The Tyrant's Son

A Song of Zhor

By Tamarack

Ree tried to stir up insurrection, His deeds got the town fathers’ goat. His sire had been a cruel despot, Who patriot knights had to smote. His son, just in teenage, was banished, The people agreed this should be. But what pa had claimed his scion still wanted, And trouble ahead there would be. There was a Ruk girl in the city, Whom the tyrant had transformed in sport. She’d been an agent wise in spying, And so she was summoned to court. A plan the new mayor had concocted; From town Agent Mia was sent. She posed as a wench skilled in dancing, For Ree had a lecherous bent. Stirred up by her dance, he had brolled her, She seemed but a lass of the town. In the midst of his slumber Mi jabbed him, With a Ruk dart that he hadn’t found. She called her men in and they took him. They bundled Ree off through the back. While he changed to a cute little missy, He lay confined in an old shack.

The serum Ree got was well chosen, Her shape got curvaceous and sweet. Her long locks became somewhat golden. ‘Twas time for the iron to heat. Dragged back to the city well collared, Ree displayed a brand, not a crown. In nudity she was breathtaking, With pubic curls almost like down. The council had solved its sore problem; No army would follow a mir. For Reelon they ordered slave drilling, Then some other matter they’d hear. A brash, pushy prince, he'd been lusty, A trait the blonde silk wench retained. Reelon got a taste of male fondling; They spared her nothing while she trained. The tyrant's son had been a hothead, And oftentimes flew into rage. By the switch and the feather they tamed her, And made her wise beyond her age. Ree learned to dance by slow revealing, And every which way how to brol. In slav'ry she ceased her complaining And got her life under control.