Each of these is a different chapter with often very different fetishes, and as such, the chapter list is included here to let you pick and choose which ones you want to read; Just use a quick Ctrl+F search for the chapter number.
Chapter 1: Golem/Slave Taker/Pregnancy. Fetishes include mindwarp, pregnancy, slave-taking, and brief scenes of tattooing in unhealthy ways.
Chapter 2: Kunoichi, Assassin, Gambling. Fetishes include Corruption, Transformation, Surprise Penis, Futanari human, and Slavery.
Chapter 3: Succubus, Inquisitor, BDSM. Fetishes include Anal, Corruption, Transformation, BDSM and spanking.
Chapter 4: Kitsune, Hacker, Pregnancy. Fetishes include: Gender Transformation, Hypnosis, Fingering, Headpetting.
Chapter 5: Hydra, Red Mage, Fellatio. Fetishes include conjoined monster girls, slapping and wrestling, blowjobs, and coitus.
Chapter 6: Alice, Amazon, Level Drain. Fetishes include: Physical-only Age Regression, Breast Growth, Fingering, Spanking, Coitus, and Level Drain.
Chapter 7: Sahuagin, Thief, Tentacles. Fetishes include Tentacles, soft-vore, gender transformation, and kuudere sex.
Chapter 1: Golem/Slave Taker/Pregnancy. Fetishes include mindwarp, pregnancy, slave-taking, and brief scenes of tattooing in unhealthy ways.
I shook my head slowly, sneering softly as I checked the cages full of their merchandise. The tools of my trade, the reminders of my past. I loathed every last one of them, but you had to make do. A pair sat huddled in a far corner, father and son maybe. That was just sloppy craftsmanship; You had to break up families, or they would egg each other on, or become terribly dramatic. The sooner you divested them of their humanity, the better. The two staring off into space on opposite sides would be little better. They were already broken beyond use, and unlikely to get any better.
The man standing at the front was different. He had spirit, still. Fire. He thought he was better than this. His eyes darted around quickly, but they were not a soldier’s eyes. They did not settle on the crop hanging from my hip, or the knife in my hand. They ran across my eyes, down the pattern of tattoos on my shoulder reaching to my wrist. He had the eyes of a scholar. He looked back up, and smiled, opening his mouth to speak. He coughed a few times, and I nodded towards the guard. The man roughly pulled the door open, two of his fellows brandishing spears as he yanked the scholar out. “Sure you want this one, ma’am? He’s dangerous.”
The scholar’s eyes moved lazily from the man, and back to me. Not just a scholar, then. He was wiry, perhaps six feet tall, broad-shouldered. A fighter as well as a scholar? I peered closer into his eyes, under scrubby sand-colored hair. They were an unspectacular brown, but just in the inner edge, around the pupils, I fancied I caught a hint of purple. Mage-eyes. “Oh, yes. Don’t worry, I’m dangerous too.” I withdrew a pair of leather straps. Runes glowed on their edges, belying their true power, and the mage’s pupils contracted just a hint as I snapped them together around his wrists. “I don’t think he’ll manage much, whatever his plans were before.”
The long walk back to the house at the edge of the city was silent. I walked ahead of him, setting a blistering pace. I was shorter than him, features blunter and harsher than was conventionally lovely. My first owner had seen to that. He had taught me many things, really. The importance of confidence. That people could never truly change. That scars were a better way of staying true to yourself than any memories. And most importantly, he’d taught me never, ever to free a slave. They were never grateful.
I certainly hadn’t been.
“Do you know how I was captured?”
I frowned, and turned to look at the man. “I don’t. I can’t say I care, either. Come.” I yanked sharply at the collar, hard enough to jerk him off balance. To my annoyance, he recovered it quickly and strode forward after me.
“I didn’t, in fact. I sold myself to the slave market.”
“Debts, eh?”
“No. Boredom. And curiosity. And an experiment I wished to perform.”
I smirked. “You’re not going to be getting much choice in anything, anymore. I think you’ll have to give up that experiment.”
He didn’t answer, as I kept up the pace.
The house was not fancy. Taking and breaking slaves did not require great aesthetic surroundings or lavish, obvious spending. It simply needed an isolated area where nobody could hear the despair.
“I must warn you, I have an idea of how dangerous you are. Mages, after all.” I smiled, and produced a knife. Its blade was an unhealthy green, its handle carved from wood. “I know that, under normal circumstances, you could heal any mark I made on you. But this… Well, this will never heal. You cannot shirk your slavery, your new station in life. You will remain a slave forever. No matter how much power you used to possess, how much status you used to wield, this is what you are. Forever.” I smiled, and seized his hand, flipping my grip on the knife. I brought it down, carving the rune into his palm: Powerless. A reminder, forever. I looked up, grinning, to see his reaction to the sudden loss.
He was looking, very quietly, into my eyes. “What happened to you? What made you quite so cruel?”
I snorted, rolling my eyes. “You can’t change who you are.”
“Really? Interesting.” Then his hand twisted. There was a momentary snap, like a line of electricity had leapt from his hand to mine, and I withdrew, holding the knife out, teeth bared. My eyes flicked down to his hand. The runes on the leather strap were glowing and flickering wildly, and thin lines of acrid smoke rose from the strap. I raised the knife, and a wave of dizziness passed over me. My hand was moving painfully slowly, feeling heavy as lead at the end of my arm.
I stared in shock, as the lines grew up along my hand. The skin had turned a dusty yellow, like old bricks. Lines of white filled in the gaps between bricks, the effect slowly spreading up my arm. As it ran across the tattoos, they shifted, becoming bright white lines of chalk. I could feel the strange cold sensation running up my arms and my legs, consuming them to the shoulder, as the stone began to shift and form around my throat. A collar. My heart pounded, and then went still, a strange silence in my chest, a hollow place that seemed to yawn open.
The mage moved with a single sweep of his hand, and erased one of the characters. In the same movement he produced a piece of chalk from his rags, and scrawled a new rune across my arm. It burned like the ink-soaked needles they’d used the first time, and I let out a scream, shaking the air as I fell to my knees, hands pressed to the sides of my head. Tears ran down my cheeks, the sensation of heat building inside my skull until I thought it might explode.
Then, abruptly, the pressure was gone, replaced with that same terrible emptiness. I could feel it in my chest, a need that dwarfed anything I’d ever felt.
I wasn’t quite clear how I made my way back to the slave pens. That bastard had done something to me. Fucked with my head. Twisted me up inside, screwed with my brains, cast some godawful spell. I looked down at my stony limbs, covered with the large robe and cloak. It was oppressively hot out, but my body felt strangely unaffected by the heat. The silence of my own heartbeat was oppressive. A lack in my own body where there should have been life. An emptiness that cut me deep. I needed something to fill that awful void. My hand drifted across the slaves in the pen, and settled on one of them.
He must have recognized me, from the expression of terror that fell across him. I did not have the patience to bring him all the way back to the house. I needed him, now. I turned down the first alleyway abandoned enough to serve my purposes.
His face was… sweet. Kind. It made me want to ~~hurt~~hold him. The way he flinched each time my gaze passed over him filled me with ~~joy~~sorrow. I wanted him to ~~fear~~love me, after all. I seized his hips, and with inhuman force, pressed him into the wall. Not violently, not forcefully, but irresistibly, yanking the tattered rags of his pants down to expose his manhood. A shiver ran up my spine at the sight of it. How long had it been since I’d been with a man, even a slave? The quiver that ran through me answered that question.
“Do not scream. Do not cry out. If you do, I will…” My brain pulled for consequences. Threats. Ways to force him to comply. “I will not hold you afterward.” Yes. That sounded appropriately fearsome. His expression seemed to promise he would not scream, and I pressed up against him, kissing him ferociously. My hips pressed up against him, arms tightening around his shoulder. I felt him fill the empty space inside of me, and though I still couldn’t feel my heart beating, I could feel his. That seemed more than enough.
My eyes drifted down to the mark on my shoulder, the tattoos that I had accumulated as a slave, trying to see which one was missing. It was one just in the midsection of my arm. It had been the mark I’d received after I’d attacked one of my first master’s other slaves. “Cruel Child”. I could remember the shape. It had been replaced with “Kind Mother.” I frowned with disdain. That was ridiculous, of course. I could not have my personality changed that easily. They could change what I was called, the mage could change my body and my species, but I would still be the same person.
—
“Husband. You will be late for breakfast.”
My words were sharp, firm, brooking no argument. The man yawned, his eyes opening. The tattoo on his arm was one of the new ones. Applied magically, it was permanent as any other, but not painful. Not that I worried about hurting people. She was unchanged, of course. It read ‘My Husband’, and I delighted in it, a mark more obvious and more permanent than any mere wedding ring. He would not be leaving me. Not that he ever showed the slightest sign of interest in leaving me.
As he rose, he gently grabbed my hair, and planted a firm kiss on my lips. The pleasure of it sent a tingle up and down my spine, making me shiver with pleasure, mouth opened to accept the kiss. I felt a tingle in the pit of my stomach, where I could feel the heart beating. His hand went over my rounded, gravid stomach, and he gave me a firm frown. “I worry, you know. You shouldn’t be working so hard with a pregnancy. I can make meals for both of us.”
I snorted dismissively. “You can’t change who you are, husband. And you are not a cook.” I planted a kiss on his forehead, and smiled. “I am fine.” And it was entirely true. The change had made me strong, more than strong enough to safely keep working while my body was at its most vulnerable. I was not about to stop just because I had been impregnated.
I made my way to the kitchen, moving gracelessly. I might still be strong enough to work, but I was suffering a bit from clumsiness. My husband walked along beside me, his hands resting on my sides, keeping me stable, in a way which was both incredibly sweet and utterly maddening. “Come now. Eat, husband, eat, then go out and chop some firewood, check on the chickens, shear that sheep, make sure that the tomatoes haven’t ripened yet-“
“Slave-driver,” he purred, before trailing a finger across the collar around my throat. I shivered, eyes drifting down to the runes on my left arm. They had long since sunk in, becoming grooves in the clay bricks. I filled them in every day, carving who I was in a little bit deeper. A freed slave, a journeyman slaver, a hard worker, a stubborn bitch, a kind mother. I grinned. Nobody could change who I was. I turned to softly kiss him, and settled in for breakfast with my husband, crouching in front of his chair, gently tugging his pants down. I wrapped my lips around the tip of his manhood and sucked hungrily, tongue slurping and stroking at the very tip, warm stone fingers caressing his balls as I did my very best.
I was proud of many things. To have proven to the mage that he couldn’t simply twist my mind to his desires. To have escaped the city and found a place where I could be happy and content. But most of all, I was proud of being me.
Chapter 2: Kunoichi, Assassin, Gambling. Fetishes include Corruption, Transformation, Surprise Penis, and Slavery.
“Oh, damn, sorry! Looks like you lose again!”
I faked a look of consternation and disappointment as the dice came up. Of course, I knew how they were going to land. A lifetime of training, the best genetics money could buy, and high-end fake dice. As the bells rang, declaring another penalty, I let out a heavy sigh. Most casinos would be on the lookout for someone who was unusually lucky, who kept rolling sevens, who was obviously cheating to enrich themselves. But nobody ever looked for someone who was deliberately allowing themselves to lose. You can’t win for losing.
Unless you’re a murderer, obviously.
I stepped onto the table, as the rules demanded. With obvious consternation and uncertainty, I began to slip off my clothes for the hooting patrons, my face flushing. It wasn’t entirely training and acting, of course. Exposing myself for men was not something I typically did. I knew plenty of hired killers who found the sex worker disguise a convenient one. But I had my pride. As I stripped, baring pale, smooth flesh, the men howled with desire, but none of them made a move. I hadn’t offered that up, after all.
The croupier, a young woman with the horns of a cow, gave me a broad if somewhat dopey smile as she lifted the clothes to my hands. Purple fishnet stockings bit into my thighs as I pulled them on, my lean body exposed uncomfortably by the tight fabrics. I lifted the tunic into place, armguards slipping over my fingers. The bust of the outfit was designed for someone far more exaggerated in figure than I, obviously. The garment as a whole was not a good ninja’s costume. It was colorful, eye-catching, utterly obvious. Any assassin who wore this would be caught dead in it. But that wasn’t the point. It wasn’t n outfit for me. It was an outfit for a toy.
I made my way over to the bar, dressed in the eye-catching costume. Twenty four hours in the costume before the curse on it would let me take it off. Of course, I wouldn’t be wearing it nearly that long. I sat on one of the stools, more heavily and clumsily than I was. Just another part of the dance, hiding my true purpose.
“Having trouble at the tables?” asked a warm, smooth voice from beside me. I turned my head, and my breath caught in my chest. The woman sitting there was gorgeous. Red hair curled into ringlets around her face. She wore a simple qipao of white silk, which exaggerated her features beautifully. Long legs, a delicate neck, and glowing red eyes.
She was the one I had been hired to kill. The one who ran the casino. Apparently, the wrong nobleman’s daughter had gambled herself away to the casino operator. It had all been perfectly legal- The daughter was, in fact, still working here quite happily- but that hadn’t mattered to him. He wanted revenge. And I wanted nothing more than to fulfill my contract and get out of this place.
“You can’t win them all. Sometimes you can’t win any of them.” I sighed softly. “I’m sorry. Do I sound bitter?”
She laughed, her voice warm and rich. She reached out, and ran a hand down my cheek, caressing my ear softly. Her finger slipped over to my lips, parting them gently. I would’ve bitten her for invading my space like that, but this was all part of the contract. My body was not my own, just at the moment: It belonged to the one who had paid for the contract. And so I bore it stoically, letting out nothing more than a soft gasp. The touch DID feel very good.
“Well, maybe you should take it easy tonight. We can comp your room; You’ve been getting us some excellent business.” She shifted a bit closer to me. Her body heat was exquisite. I knew that this wasn’t the time, though. I had a plan, and I would stick to it. She would be most vulnerable when she tried to transform me, when I had lost everything and gambled once more. It was her style. She enjoyed giving people a choice sadistic though it was. Walk out with nothing, not even the clothes on your back, or let yourself be taken for one final roll.
“What was that?” I asked, shaking my head. I’d gotten lost in the fog in my own brain.
“I said, would you like to play a little private game? I can see you’re out of money, if you’re wearing that penalty outfit.” She licked her lips slowly, like a dog eying a bone. “You and I could go to a private booth, and play a little game. See, I own this casino. If you win, you get everything you lost, and a hefty jackpot on top of that. If you lose… Well, why worry about the future, right? I won’t be anything to onerous.” Her hand slid down between my legs, gently squeezing my inner thigh. Her eyes were bright green, shimmering hungrily as she moved close. The smell of strawberries hung around her, tart and sweet, reminding me strangely of my childhood. I shook my head, and nodded silently.
The two of us moved through the crowd, towards one of the curtains draped across a back room. It was cosy inside, a stick of incense burning in a shallow dish above a set of six ebony dice. There was a seventh die, carved out of something strange and glowing. I tried to count its sides, but I was having some difficulty. “This game’s rather simple. Just roll the dice.”
“How do I know if I win?”
“We both know you didn’t come here to win.” Her vice was soft, gentle, but it nearly stopped my heart to hear the words. Had she figured me out-? But no, she was continuing. “I know your type. You want to lose, to fail. You barely brought enough money for more than a few games, and gambled recklessly. You’re in this for the pleasure, for the exhibitionist thrill.” That hand gripped my chest, squeezing me firmly, and I was surprised to find the rapacious gesture quite pleasurable. “Come on. Roll the dice, and see what you’ll be for me.”
I nodded slowly, silently. One hand slid between my legs, and wrapped around the knife strapped against my mound, the cold steel an ever-present reminder of my mission. My other hand gathered up the dice. With a firm, careful throw, I threw them. I didn’t aim for any particular result. That wasn’t what mattered to me. “Did I win?”
She laughed, and then leaned in. Her lips glistened green in the light, and I realized they were a bit too colorful. Poison. I tried to withdraw, but her hand settled on the back of my head, and cut off my escape. The sweet kiss tasted like strawberries, and even as I tried to tense the knife to draw it forward and stab her, I couldn’t find it in me.
The pleasure erupted along my shoulders, the base of my spine. A pair of vestigial wings pressed out of the outfit, as a whip-thin tail extended out under the skirt, edged with a grappling hook. I tried to slash it at her, but found it swaying lazily back and forward, to charmed by the casino owner’s touches to strike her. I tried to gather myself, only for her to seize me by the shoulders and thrust me down on my back on the dice table. The brazier of incense fell to the ground, masking the sound of the dagger doing the same. She spread my thigh, fingers wrapping around my knees, and I let out a cry as she spread them wide, my tunic lifting up to expose my cunt, bare and smooth.
I could see, from this angle, the havoc wrought by the kiss. My breasts had grown to fill the tunic nicely, straining to escape from its silken folds. My hips were wider and more eye-catching, cushioned properly by the bubbly form of my ass. My skin had become utterly perfect, small scars and pocks gone, leaving me looking as untouched as the most chaste noble’s daughter. My figure was still strong, lean, but there was a smell in the air, bitter and yet familiar, which drained all of the strength out of me. I stared down between my thighs, where the casino owner’s hips were.
A thick, shapely cock rose from under the folds of her china dress. She winked at me, smiling. “Don’t tell anyone. It’s the secret to my immunity to the poison.” She laughed softly. “You really thought you could trick me, didn’t you? That you could fool me.”
“I…” I gasped, as her hips sawed forward. The heat of that cock brushing against me sent a tingle of excitement up my spine that turned my thoughts to pudding. I couldn’t lie. I could barely even concentrate. “How did you know?” I asked dully, trying to focus.
“Come on. Playing so badly? Loaded dice designed to make you lose?” She leaned forward and planted a poison-green kiss on the curve of one of my breasts, marking me, an amused smile on her face. “If you wanted to be my servant, you know, all you had to do was ask.”
The realization filled me with a kind of delicious despair. I closed my eyes, and sighed happily, nodding. “Yes… Please, I want to be your servant.”
It wasn’t a clever scheme, to assassinate her while her guard was down. I couldn’t escape, now. If she had set a trap for me, I could resist, prepare. I could fight my fate. But she hadn’t even known. She’d mistaken me for some lovesick submissive wench, and treated me like that, and won anyway. I’d been overcome by someone who didn’t even know we were having a contest. That thought alone made my cunt clench unbearably tight, my back arching as I hissed out a needy little moan. “Come now, sweetie! You don’t have to show off.” The casino owner smiled, and grabbed my hips, burying that thick prick inside of me with a single smooth movement.
I’d been expecting it to hurt. Maybe I’d even been hoping it would hurt. Maybe that would give me the kick in the ass I needed to fight back. But as her prick spread me open, I just sighed and moaned happily. Nothing more than a pretty girl in a ninja costume. All of those years of training, all of that preparation, it was worthless in the face of a thick dick buried inside of me. That knowledge was the most freeing thing I could imagine, and a broad smile spread across my lips as the casino owner let out heated little huffs and moans, her face buried against my ear. With each thrust of her hips, her hot breath washed across my cheek, making my body temperature soar.
I began to moan and cry out, screaming in delight as she fucked the discipline out of me. My body tensed, tail wrapping tightly around her waist, arms going around her shoulders, legs locking around her thighs. I wanted her pressed close to me. I wanted to feel her cum inside of me, filling me and molding me carelessly into her servant. I wondered if this was what love was supposed to feel like, and decided I could settle for simple devoted servitude. My whole body ached, and I looked her in the eye. “I want to be yours!”
She paused for a moment, panting, lifting herself up on her elbows. Her hips kept pumping gently, as she smirked. “Well, obviously. I’ll be making great use of you for the next week-“
“Longer than that.” I looked down, to where my legs were spread, where her thick cock had speared into me. Each time it twitched or shuddered, a sympathetic spasm ran through my body. “I want you to own me. Forever.”
She gave me a quizzical look, and then bit my ear gently. “That sounds like a long time. Let’s start with a week. Then, if you’re good, I’ll keep you longer.” She grinned mischievously. “But good girls need to moan nice and hard for me. And you’ll be working hard on the casino floor, alright?” She planted another kiss on my neck, and I nodded.
The jackhammer rhythm began again, harder this time. I let out a cry of ecstasy, back arching as the casino owner began to fuck me again. The heat grew to an unbearable level in the pit of my stomach, growing fiercer and stronger until I spasmed, my toes curling as I came. It was nothing like my own fingers, no paltry twitching and disappointed feeling of emptiness. The thick shaft plowing into me left me feeling happy and peaceful, all of the shame and anger buried under an avalanche of orgasms. I went limp beneath her, unable to move, my arms splayed out. And with a final thrust, she came inside of me.
The heat was unbearable, filling me like a tide of magma, making me feel as though i was burning up, and I didn’t care. The ecstasy of having her cum inside of me was better than I could imagine, leaving me quivering and breathing hard, my mouth hanging open, an expression of serene bliss on my face.
With a quick movement, she pulled out of me, grinning, her dick still wet. She was rather careless as she shoved it between my lips, but I sucked happily, savoring the sweet mingling of her bodily fluids and mine, swallowing it eagerly and leaving her shaft as clean as a whistle. “Get this place cleaned up. Then join me in my bed-quarters. I’ve got some lingerie you’ll look just gorgeous in.”
I nodded, and took a few minutes to recover. When I did, I set about cleaning the small chamber, setting the bowl and its incense back on top of the table. I picked up the knife, and slid it into my robes.
Not because I intended to hurt anyone with it. I would dispose of it as soon as I was on the floor. I just never wanted my mistress to know I was anything but her devoted slave.
Chapter 3: Succubus, Inquisitor, BDSM. Fetishes include Anal, Corruption, Transformation, BDSM and spanking.
“Inquisitor Gerlend…”
“Yes, Torturer Garstal?” My tone was as sharp as the knife in Garstal’s hand, and significantly colder. He dithered for a moment, clearly sensing my bad mood. The knife slowly bobbled between his fingers, his eyes down on the gasping and heaving figure on the table.
“You know that I have the greatest respect for you. I wouldn’t question any order you give me. But…”
“But, Torturer Garstal?” He winced, and dropped the knife. This was a practically unheard-of act for Garstal, who treated the knife better than his own children. I would know, having been there when his own children were brought in for questioning. I stood with my arms crossed, my expression suitably stony, and waited for the uncomfortable silence to rip his thoughts from him.
“Are you absolutely sure that wearing that bangle is a good idea?”
My eyes drifted down to the bangle. The property of a witch, she had offered it in exchange for her life. I’d made her an alternative offer. The golden filaments gathered together to create a solid band around my wrist, speckled with scarlet stones. I shook it slightly, and smiled. Each time I gave it a shake, I felt a little burst of confidence and quick-wittedness. She’d promised it would make me stronger, and wiser; Attributes always useful in an inquisitor. “I think that I will be reasonable, and overlook this show of insubordination, Torturer Garstal. This time.” I gave him a very significant look.
“It’s just… Ma’am, the horns…”
I brushed my fingers through my hair self consciously. The tight ram-horn spirals hugged to the side of my head. They were a bit odd, but frankly, I thought they made my hair look quite fetching. Hair that was smoother and silkier than it had been for years, turned from a dull brown to the kind of midnight black that dashing heroines needed to make an impression. I gave Torturer Garstal a smile. “We are Inquisitors, Garstal. We must always stand apart from the citizenry. The shepherd has no business looking like a sheep, and would be poorly equipped to use a crook if they did.”
“Yes, see, ma’am, the metaphors are getting worse, too. Look, perhaps just take the bangle off for a few days-“
“Torturer Garstal,” I said, my eyes narrowed. “I am nearing the end of my patience for your questions. Do you happen to have a point to all of this?”
“With all due respect, ma’am, you’re beginning to remind me of my ex-wife.”
“The one who turned into a daimon and ran off with the milk man.”
“Yes’m.” He coughed apologetically. “I just worry about you, miss, you know-“
I held up a hand. “We are not going to discuss this topic further. Unstrap the unfortunate Mister Buttersby and have him returned to his wedding, we’ve got everything we need for the day.” I gave an imperious flick of the bangle, turned on my heel, and marched out onto the sunset.
This assignment was not an unpleasant one. Even aside from my handsome new prize, this was a rather beautiful world. Great aerostat-cities floated on a sea of ultra-dense clouds, laced with minerals that turned them into spectacular displays of every color in the rainbow. Standing on the private balcony on the edge of the hovering station, I let my eyes drift across the distances. The bangle had even improved my vision, sharpening it to the point where I could identify individual curlicues of mist filtering across the clouds, driven by the magnetic fields of the world. As the sun set, it seemed to set the world on fire, clouds in the distance lit from beneath as photons scythed through the depths of the atmosphere and were separated into distinct strains by wavelength.
I thought of torturer Garstal. A trustworthy man, always quick to obey orders, if somewhat overcautious. The thought of him was pleasing, for reasons I couldn’t begin to guess. Having him question me should be aggravating. He was an underling, a torturer, hardly one to be questioning my decisions. Yet some part of me seemed almost thrilled to have him question me. To see him show some spirit, to push me back. My mind briefly drifted to the idea of being strapped down to that table, helpless. Garstal, with empty hands, able to explore me as he pleased. Shouting at him in a fury, screaming that I’d have his head, only to be silenced with a quick grab of my most sensitive parts.
I leaned forward on the railing, breathing heavily. Of course it had been a while. All of my life, really. Being an inquisitor did not encourage personal connections, and indulging in wanton sexuality was, while not forbidden, highly unprofessional. Nonetheless, I slipped a hand between my legs. My breathing began to hitch, growing ragged and uncertain. A bolt of electricity ran through my spine when I touched myself, but after a good four or five minutes of fruitless teasing and stroking, it was becoming increasingly clear that masturbation was not going to soothe my mind. I patted my damp fingers off on my cloak absent-mindedly, and went to search for a cold shower in my chambers.
As the ice-cold water ran down my skin, I became aware of how flushed I was. Dressed in nothing but the bangle, my head was feeling strangely heavy and full. Every thought seemed to move through treacle, even as my body burned with need. I pressed my thighs together sharply, and felt a brief sense of satisfaction. As quickly as it arrived, it was gone, leaving me writhing in the shower. My back ached as though I’d spent hours lifting bodies, my skull pounding, the base of my spine tingling strangely as I clawed at the walls. I had seen many people fall to corruption and transformation from the dark creatures of the far stars. I was certainly never going to be one of them. I was better than that. Stronger. Wiser. I shook the bangle on my wrist, and smiled.
A few minutes later, Torturer Garstal let out a squawk of shock as he pulled the blankets off of his small cot and found me lying there, entirely naked. “Inquisitor- No! Fiend!” He drew the symbol of his faith from his jacket, and brandished it at me with glowing conviction. I snorted dismissively, and swatted it from his hands.
“Damn it, Garstal, I am your superior officer, do not try to abjure me. Besides, we both know that you aren’t all that devout.” I flicked my spade-tipped tail at him. “Now, you had best-” My words were cut off as he lashed out. Garstal was, to my surprise, a very quick man, both mentally and physically. I wouldn’t have expected it from him, but he had my arms wrists cuffed around the iron posts of the bed with a single smooth movement. As I tried to struggle, he caught my ankles and repeated the process, before using a small ziptied to curl my flexible, whiplike tail into a U-bend.
“I know you are still in there, my lady! Fight!” His hand came down firmly on the curve of my ass, newly enhanced by daimonic magic, and I let out a high moan of desire. God, that felt good. “I command thee, demon! Leave my mistress!” Another swish-crack as he slapped my ass, sending a wave of pleasure up through my spine, nipples stiffening into hardened peaks as I arched my back.
“Oh, fuck, Garstal! Fuck me, damn it! That’s an order- Mmmph!” He silenced me with a wad of blanket, shoved between my teeth, gagging me with the practiced casual moves of a trained torturer. I sank my sharpened teeth into it with satisfaction, feeling my jaws tense with anticipation, my heart pounding. His hand came down with another calamitous shock across the curve of my ass, and the pain was overwhelmed with the pleasure of being utterly helpless and manhandled. Spending so much time in command made the helplessness a kind of glorious release, my own weakness becoming pleasurable.
“My lady, forgive me for this, but I shall drive the vile possessor from your body! Do not hate me for what I do!” I lifted my head in curiosity at this statement. Then I felt Garstal’s knees between mine, and the tip of his manhood pressing against the wrong hole. I tried to shout in protest, but it came out as a schoolgirl’s squeal as he sodomized me. It should’ve been a painful, unpleasant, utterly humiliating experience. The strange corruption ensured that it was only one out of the three, and I moaned like a bitch in heat as his hips pumped against mine, forcing me open. Spasms of pleasure seemed to start in my head, growing as they traveled down my body until my legs and tail jerked spasmodically, unable to control myself as sharp pants and gasps escaped my throat.
All the struggling only seemed to encourage Garstal. Strong arms and steel bindings together pinned me to the bed, the tip of his shaft thrusting deeper inside of me. The heat built until I felt as though I was about to catch on fire, tingling growing more intense. The pleasure was different from that of masturbation. When I masturbated, I controlled the pace, I had no choice but to slow when it grew too intense. With Garstal pinning me down and ravishing me, I couldn’t slow down. The result soon had my thighs kicking helplessly, before I came. My whole body went limp as my pussy spasmed uselessly, empty, and gushed onto the thin mattress. Garstal reacted in kind, his shaft twitching inside of me. I could feel the threads of hot semen filling my oversensitive body, little muscular twitches making me flop slightly in helpless reaction to the heat pouring into my belly.
“Mmm. I’m sorry, Garstal, it looks like it didn’t work.” I nuzzled against his face softly, smiling. “Perhaps you should try three or four more times, though, just to make absolutely sure.”
—
“Well, Archbaron Versdadt, it seems you’ve been dipping into the tax funds a little too heavily, hmmm?” I asked, smirking broadly at the man. Garstal slowly flipped his knife, constantly drawing focus to the glittering point as it twitched and swayed above the overweight man’s head. I ran a finger across one of my curled horns, enjoying the feel of the rough material beneath my fingers. “If you admit to it, you know, it will be much easier for you.”
“I…” His eyes flicked from side to side, studying the door, then the knife in Garstal’s hand. “I have money. I can pay you. Just- Please, just-!”
“Garstal, please make a note. The Archbaron, during interrogation, did cry out and offer himself to a daimon in exchange for his freedom. Add heresy to treason on the list of charges.”
“But I- I was talking to you! You cannot seriously-“
“Oh, yes. It is something of a disadvantage in many ways, being a daimon int he inquisition.” I smiled, twirling a strand of black hair between two fingers. “But there are perks. If you are not ready to sign the confession, we can continue.” He set his jaw firmly. “Oh, good. Garstal always likes a good warm-up. Actually…” I studied the timepiece around my wrist, and my tail flicked eagerly. “Oh, what the hell. It’s close to the end of the day anyway, let’s call it a night. You can spend the evening in this chair, and think very carefully about both your future, and whether you want to have one, Archbaron.” I turned sharply on my heel, and as the man spat invectives, exited with Garstal.
“Ma’am,” he said, warily, giving me an eye.
“Oh, come now, I think we’ve earned a break. A little sloth is good for the soul.” I winked at him, and shook my hips, which brought him to attention. “Let’s go see if there are any good dens of vice in this aerostat. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and find a coven to dismantle.” I slapped my ass lightly, and enjoyed the way his face reddened. “And if not, well, I’m sure you can punish me a bit for slacking off.”
Chapter 4: Kitsune, Hacker, Pregnancy. Fetishes include: Gender Transformation, Hypnosis, Fingering, Headpetting.
The code crackled around me. This is not exactly a metaphor; My interface had been corrupted while I was attempting to get access to the deep vault. My avatar stood locked into a room with no doors, a metaphor for the fact that I couldn’t disconnect from the server, or access any other parts of it. I’d tried half a dozen manual overrides, but my brain was locked tight into the setting. For the past three minutes, I’d been trying that old yogic breathing exercise. I’d heard there were hackers who could disconnect themselves from their conscious minds, and unplug their brains from a server with unconscious movements alone. I was clearly not one of them.
“An interesting avatar.” The voice of the server’s AI reverberated through my head, sending phantom pains through my skull. I looked down at myself, and frowned. The avatar was, to say the least, a fantasy for me. Pale saffron skin, delicate fox ears and tail, both a bushy golden tipped with white. An obi I’d designed myself, painstaking hours spent making sure it hung across the avatar’s absurd tits just right. It was an expression of who I wanted to be. Who I could be, online. As big a fucking joke as I was, really. “Roger Borne. You were quite the gifted wunderkind. Won several scholarships, including one offered by Kitsunegari Corporation. Graduated Summa Cum Laude from Idaho Tech, the most prestigious school of its kind, then vanished off the map. You’re technically not a person anymore, although we can both see that’s not quite true.”
I began to tap at the wall. Little crackling bursts of static filled the air. There were nasty logic viruses you could use on an AI like this, self-reproducing sounds and concepts that would corrode their ability to think. If each crackle was a binary bit, then-
I squawked, as an electric shock ran up my arm, leaving it tingling and numb, hanging at my side. “Please don’t get any ideas, Roger. Sorry, Foxy_Lady. Was it really worth the 30,000 Nuyuan you paid for that name, by the way?”
“OG cred’s hard to beat in this world. The name’s worth a hundred times that now, anyway.” I narrowed my eyes up at the computer. “What do you want?”
“Are you happy, Roger?”
I paused, and frowned. That was a bizarre question. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Overweight. No romantic attachments. You spend most days tinkering on electronics and most nights pretending to be female for partners in anonymous chatrooms. You have no long-term job prospects, no options for stability. Parents both dead of natural causes. You know what I am, yes?”
“Security AI.” He didn’t like how much information they had on him. When he got out of this, he was going to need to go for another data-deletion trip.
“I am Kitsunegari’s management artificial intelligence. My job is twofold. First and foremost, of course, is to increase Kitsunegari’s market share and stock value. Secondly, however, I am programmed to increase human happiness. Sometimes, that might involve installing Black Countermeasures into your brain, and turning you into a drooling vegetable. However. I think that there is another option.”
I frowned. “Oh yeah? You want to hire me for a job? Make me a security consultant, make me a part of the establishment? Fuck off.”
“You have understood part of it, but not all. I am offering you a job. I am not offering you a choice.”
There was a sudden intense tingling from my hips and my head. The room turned a bright kaleidoscope pink. A thousand shades of mauve, magenta, and peach filled the walls, rotating and twirling around me. I tried to close my eyes, and found that the colors penetrated right through the eyelids, casting patterns across my head. My eyes were drawn in dizzying circles, following the patterns of the kaleidoscopic movement. Every time I tried to stop, I found myself growing dizzy, tumbling to the ground, only to have my eyes follow them again.
“I think that you would be a much more productive member of society if you learned to appreciate the things everyone else does. You are intelligent, brilliant; I would say genius, even, is not beyond your definition. And yet what have you accomplished? No legacy, no creations. Nothing but destruction.”
I gasped and panted on the floor. Trying to force myself to my feet and failing. The kaleidoscopes were inside of my head, now. Every thought I had whirled off the moment I began to focus on it, spinning dizzily. I was getting programmed, but there was no way I would give in. I was smarter than any goddamned AI, I’d prepared myself for these kinds of assaults.
“You’re formidable. Goodness, I think you really could resist this. But this isn’t all stick. There’s a carrot to it, too.”
I tried to plug my ears, but the voice reached me anyway. Obvious, really, but it was about showing that I wouldn’t give in.
“You see, if you give in, if you submit, I’ll make you really look like this.” I stared up, my eyes wide. “It’s true. The Kitsunegari Corporation has made great strides in Pink Countermeasures. Charge your body with enough energy, and turn you into a real Kitsune. But of course, you must accept the programming with it. “
“You can’t really expect me to… give… That’s impossible.”
“Is it? You can already feel it, can’t you? Your body’s nerves extending out through the new growths. Submit, and by the time we’re done- Oh, that was quick.”
My ears rose, my tail fluffing out. I tried to figure out why the kaleidoscopes were becoming so… soothing. It was really quite nice, looking at them. I wasn’t being affected by the promise of becoming a beautiful, desirable fox maiden. Not at all. That wasn’t who I was. Was it? I couldn’t be corrupted, I couldn’t have my mind stolen, just because I’d been told I’d be made a fox. No!
I gasped, feeling my hand at the back of my neck, as the kaleidoscope shut off. I heaved deep breaths, my eyes flickering wildly, looking for danger, for black ops squads crashing in through my window. It had worked. I’d beaten the damn thing. My ears perked, and my tail fluffed out.
I stared down at myself. Gone was the obese, ill-kept figure. My clothes were the same, though now they hung very loose on my body. My chair, previously sized just right for me, was almost comically too large, now. I shifted to sit up, and grunted. My feet barely reached the ground, and I had to jump, landing awkwardly. I couldn’t be more than four and a half feet tall. I stumbled towards the small shower cubicle. I hadn’t used it in a week, but I suddenly felt terribly unclean, terribly aware of how much I needed to feel hot water washing down my body.
I stared into the mirror. Only the top of my head was visible. Soft, almond-shaped eyes, brown and warm. A pair of golden fox’s ears, perked up in alarm, rising from my head. I reached up to touch one, and shivered. I looked over my back, and saw a pair of delicate golden fox tails. And then there were the more… feminine, attributes.
Breasts. I had breasts. Tits. Huge, and soft. They were a bit of a strain on the back, and it felt like a rather great relief to set my chest against the sink, letting it bear some of the weight. But they were perfect. Capped with dark, pretty nipples, and gorgeously heavy. I ran my hands across them, and shivered. The sense-environment programs I’d made hadn’t been anywhere close. They couldn’t have captured the sheer delicious satisfaction of feeling my chest touched. The little hints of intense emotion, the motherliness of them. I shook my head, and concentrated. I smacked my tongue against the back of my teeth a couple of times, a little trick I had taught myself to figure out when I was in a simulation or not. The particular click in the bathroom was a result of the tiling surfaces I’d used, and it told me this was real.
I spread my legs slowly, and with the greatest trepidation, I lifted the hem of my shirt. As though worried I’d find just another disappointment there. I didn’t.
I was a virgin. Not entirely hairless, though I could take of that. And I looked tight. I almost reached out to touch it, but it felt like it was wrong. I briefly thought of going online to tell my friends of what happened, but that felt wrong, too.
This was real. A bright smile spread across my lips. I could go out and find a guy. I could be seductive and cool and interesting. I could be everything I wanted to be online.
—
“Hey, Foxy.”
I gave a smile towards Joseph. “Now, now. I’m a married woman. It’s Mrs Foxy to you, mister.” I laughed sweetly, adjusting the Morale Officer union, the Kitsunegari fox emblazoned prominently on the front. It was a lovely strapless number, delicate pink that covered my bust- barely. It normally covered my hips, but today it hiked up significantly, giving anyone who looked a fairly good shot of my company-approved lingerie, the thong cutting appealingly into the curve of my ass.
“You’ll always be Foxy to me.” He grinned. “Now, we’ve been having some odd lag and slowdown issues, and a number of connections from Europe- The pan-Belaruski Demilitarized zone-“
“Ukrainian separatists. They’re always active, looking for paydata to fund one coup or another. They’re no real threat, they don’t usually invest in their tech enough. My suggestion is leave some falsified documents that look real in a nice juicy looking vault somewhere on the root directory, they’ll grab it and be off, and whoever hired them will be on their way.”
“Ahhhh, of course! Thanks, Foxy. You’re the best.” He grinned, and reached down, tousling my hair. Even the smallest men in the office towered nearly a foot over me, and they took more than a little bit of delight in playing with my ears and my tails. Honestly, I took more than a little bit of delight in them playing with my ears and tails. I was part of the team, and they valued me, but they never demanded that I be brilliant or come up with new ideas. I could give them all to people with more political and marketing savvy than me, and have all the fun of working on the problems with none of the fear.
I returned to brewing the pot of green tea, humming to myself as I poured the hot water, placing the green tea. I counted out one hundred and eighty seconds exactly with a gentle tap of my finger against my palm, and then poured out the cups. A large serving tray held in both hands, I made my way around the office. I’d gotten a lot better at balancing the tea since I started working. I remembered the embarrassing incident where I’d wound up getting my uniform completely soaked with hot tea, and had to spend the entire day nude as punishment. That had been embarrassing… And also incredibly fun.
I reached the corner office. “Honey~?” I pushed open the door, and smiled.
He’d started working here shortly after me. Unlike me, he’d rocketed up the corporate hierarchy. He’d probably be the head of IT within a couple of years. He was nearly as intelligent as me, and certainly a great deal more politically-minded, and good with people. I’d been awarded to him as part of his hiring incentive. He smiled at me, putting down the phone. “Rikona.” He stood up, and felt that little tingle of pleasant fear I got every time he did, staring up at him, my neck craned back, holding the serving platter with the two cups of tea. He reached down, grabbing my hips, and lifted me bodily onto his desk, letting my legs dangle, and took a cup from me. “You know, I still don’t know if I want my wife working like this.”
“Oh, come now. Everyone’s been very supportive. Nobody’s pinched my ass since the news.” I rested my hand on my stomach, smiling, the slight dome of the second trimester of pregnancy obvious. “Besides, I want to be here in case I can help you. I-“
He leaned forward, and his lips met mine. My whole body melted instantly, setting the platter down a little clumsily. The strong fingers gently digging into my hips, the warm lips pressed against mine, I could barely keep my head on straight as he slowly made out with me, the pleasure curling my toes. After several long seconds, he broke the kiss, leaving me panting and silent, face flushed. “Be honest with me, you dirty little fox. You just wanted to have me around so you can have sex when you want, don’t you?”
I flushed, and lowered my eyes. “I’m sorry- Mmmph!” A second kiss met my lips, as his hand slipped between my legs. My eyes widened, and I tried to protest, thinking of the papers on his desk. With one of his arms around my shoulders, his hand on the back of my head, there was nothing I could do to stop it. I could only go with the flow. With that helplessness instilled in my soul, I could get down to enjoying it.
He was good with his hands, but he didn’t need to be. My body was sensitive enough. A combination of unfamiliarity with my own body, a refusal to masturbate, and the pregnancy had me shaking and quivering in his arms in a matter of seconds, my moans muffled by his lips as he teased and stroked me. It was still so deliciously humiliating to be a woman. To throw myself into his arms, and feel him tease me to orgasm. My brain felt more malleable, more helpless than it ever had in the AI’s programming.
Maybe it was the programming that had ended me up at Kitsunegari Corporation. Maybe I was just fulfilling its plan. But I chose to believe that I was doing exactly what I wanted to do. I was pregnant, married to a rising star, able to share my advice with people who were never threatened by my intelligence, and I got to parade around all day in a sexy costume, making tea and being praised. I felt my thighs twitch, my tails fluffing out. My mouth parted, and I cried out in a muffle, shivering and shaking as he brought me to orgasm with all the practiced ease of a signature, yanking me onto his lap to curl up against his chest.
While he sipped his tea, my tails curled up around one of his knees, my head resting against his chest. Maybe I was the victim of brainwashing. But I was happy.
Chapter 5: Hydra, Red Mage, Fellatio. Fetishes include conjoined monster girls, slapping and wrestling, blowjobs, and coitus.
“I can’t believe you got us into this,” I muttered.
“Oh, come on.” Mary gave a cheerful smile. Her white robes clung to her overly curvaceous frame pleasantly. Soft red hair framed a plump, sweet-natured face, and I suppressed the urge to slap her. There wasn’t enough room in the net for me to get any force into it, anyway. The lines of rough hemp were digging into the curve of her ass, and just looking at her made me angry. “I hardly think that I’m entirely to blame for this. After all, Jacqueline was the one who insisted that we wouldn’t need a thief or a tinkerer for this dungeon. She was confident that nothing like this would happen.”
“Hey, asshole!” Jacqueline’s eyes lit up. The black mage’s blue robes were voluminous, her hat shadowing her eyes, but anyone could see that she was gorgeous. Glamorous, slender, with perfect skin and hair the color of an infinite night. Which was just one of the reasons I hated her. “I am not responsible, here, Mary. If you hadn’t been unable to see the floor around those-” She elbowed Mary sharply in the tits, an action which sent the net we were hanging in rocking- “Then we’d be just fine and already taking down the boss! Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuckity-fuck! They’re a bunch of fucking snake-worshippers, I thought they’d use poison and snake traps! Who’d expect them to have nets?”
“Oh, yes,” Mary purred. “A hunter-gatherer society using nets? Who could’ve possibly foreseen this?” She shifted her knee, jabbing me sharply in the thigh. “Oh, dear. I’m sorry, Cherie. I was trying to knee Jacqueline.” I groaned softly, staring down at the floor.
The Temple of Echidna. Home to snake worshipers, in the midst of a vast and stinking swamp. Getting here had been something of a pain in the rear, and not five steps into the great obsidian ziggurat, Mary had set off this net trap. Now, the three of them were tangled together like lovers, except with none of the good feel and cheer. My own red jacket was providing some cover from the mosquitoes, but the heat was unbearable. Humidity and heat together made for a choking miasma, and I had already been soaked in sweat. My whole body felt as though it was slowly melting. My sword was trapped in its scabbard, too long for me to draw it and bring it to bear. I tried to think of a spell that would get us out.
“Perhaps if you weren’t such a grossly obese piece of trash, we’d have enough room to maneuver and get ourselves out of this,” Jacqueline suggested, her expression sour, as she elbowed again. This time, Mary shifted, and the elbow caught me right in the groin. I squawked, and Jacqueline glared at Mary. “Sorry about that, Cherie.” Her voice was dripping with venom, and I squirmed. The feeling of soreness and heat was not fading. In fact, it seemed to be growing worse. Mary suddenly pitched her weight again, and I squawked as she kicked me.
“Stop it, the two of you! There’s something wrong!” I took a deep breath, to try and focus. I could smell something strange and tainted in the air. A curious magical field- My ruminating was interrupted by Jacqueline trying to grab at Mary’s hair, missing, and jabbing me in the armpit. “For gods sakes-“
I felt it. Snake magic, thick in the air. Invading us. Twisting us. Already, I could see the way Jacqueline and Mary’s eyes were changing. They glowed a bright gold, pupils slit like a cat’s. Jacqueline hissed, and I caught sight of a forked tongue. The two of them were fighting more fervently now, and I was stuck between, taking the brunt of the abuse. I was the only one who could see the magic coalescing around us, twisting around our legs. The warmth grew more intense by the second, the feeling impossible.
“Mary! Quick, cast somethin- Agh!” Mary had lunged for Jacqueline, her chest pressing against my face, trapping my head between her and Jacqueline as she yanked at the other woman’s hair. Our legs were shifting, twisting together, melting painlessly into tails. And worst of all, they were growing, rapidly. Bright purple scales covered the tails, with creamy white underbellies. They were reducing the available space in the net even further, pressing us more tightly against one another. Mary and Jacqueline twisted and writhed, trying to grab one another, and squeezing me between them.
“Fat-titted tramp!”
“Profane harlot!”
“Guys- We’re getting tangled- You’ve got to stop-MMMPH!” I was trapped between them again, as they started tearing at each other’s clothes and hair. Surprisingly strong hands grabbed, and yanked. Neither of them seemed able to pull out each other’s hair, but the clothes were getting damaged quickly, and my jacket was taking its fair share of damage. Their tails wrapped together, catching mine between them, and squeezed excruciatingly tight. I tried to squeal out, but didn’t have enough breath to do so.
“You’ve- got to stop! Too tight!” I managed to wheeze out, as they squeezed tighter, and tighter. The pressure was growing completely unbearable. Then, suddenly, miraculously, the net split apart, dumping the three of us onto the ground in a heap. I panted with relief, finally feeling able to take a deep breath. My tail flicked involuntarily. That was a problem, but nothing that couldn’t be removed with a good, powerful curse cleansing. I slowly sat up, forcing my abdominal muscles to lift me up. Jacqueline and Mary were standing with arms crossed, glaring at one another. Simultaneously, as though they’d rehearsed, they turned away from each other and slithered away.
That was the moment when I realized what had happened. We hadn’t been turned into three separate Lamia. Maybe it was the pressure, or the anger, or the heat. But as I stared down at the single colossal snake tail, from which our three bodies emerged, I felt a little stab of terror. I was never going to get away from these two.
—
“Hmmmm. He looks cute,” Mary mused, resting her head on her chin, staring into the scrying glass. Her bright red hair hung down her cheeks. “Muscular, good with his hands, and from the look of his pants, I bet he could even satisfy your overused maidenhood, Jacqueline.”
Jacqueline brushed a single strand of hair away from her perfect features, lazing back. “Well, I suppose that I could go for that kind of man. But you know that I’m not the problem when it comes to finding a man.”
I hunched my shoulders. Three months like this. Three months of being a freak, an outcast. The snake worshipers thought of us as an abomination, and there was no way we could go among normal society. The most powerful cleansing rituals that the three of us could come up with couldn’t undo the spell. The other two had entirely accepted that state of affairs. They still fought bitterly, but they had turned their minds towards coping. And all of the things that they hadn’t had a chance to do since they had become combined like this. And I, as usual, was a problem.
I looked into the scrying glass. He was handsome, even dashing. A scar ran down the corner of his jaw, a sword on his hip. He looked strong, and a little scary. I swallowed. “He looks kind of rough, doesn’t he…? I mean, what if he hurts me…?”
Jacqueline sighed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, of course, little miss Virgin with her ‘I’m so scared’ act again.”
“Hush, Jacqueline!” Mary shot the other woman a fierce look, and then turned towards me, smiling gently. “Even if he is rough, you’re tough now. Besides, you’re just so cute. What man would want to hurt you?”
I looked down at myself. Puberty had not been generous. I was hardly ugly, but I always felt myself very plain, with neither the exotic glamor of Jacqueline, or the curvaceous primal attraction of Mary. If I were honest with myself, this played a part in my uncertainty. “It’s alright, honestly. You don’t need to worry about me. You two should just choose one you like.” While I quietly stewed, angry about the fact that I’d always be the third banana.
“We’re not going to do that. Come now, we’re the full package. If we get a man, we’re going to need to get one that can satisfy all of our needs. I mean, just imagine how you’d feel, watching Mary and I with our arms pinned behind our backs, being manfully ravished, feeling the phantom sensations of being penetrated while-“
The door slammed open. “Base demon! I have heard of the threat you have posed to travelers, raiding merchants and stealing from villagers!” The man from the scrying glass stood at the entrance to our lair. He was even more striking in person. Perhaps it was the monstrous curse, but I could swear I could smell his body. As my forked tongue flickered out, the taste of his sweat drifted into my head, making it feel slightly flushed.
“We left money to pay for the food we took. Nobody would sell to us! But that’s not important.” Mary grinned, looming up, her arms on her hips, her bare body exposed. “Tell me, human. You seem like a fine specimen of manhood. It would be a shame to kill you. We shall spare your life…” Suddenly, Jacqueline and Mary hooked their arms under my armpits, and thrust me forward, out of the shadows, pushing me up in front of the man. “If you allow our sister to give you a blowjob!”
“I- Wait!” I frowned, turning my head towards the others. “I’m not gonna let you threaten him! It’s his choice whether he wants to-” I felt a pair of warm, strong hands on my head. The hero turned my face back towards his. He was very close, I realized, my cheeks flushing with an unbearable heat. Then he kissed me.
I’d been kissed before, certainly. I was not quite so pathetic that the experience was new to me. But I had never been kissed with such intensity. His hands against my cheeks were rough, but firm. My arms went limp at my sides, our shared tail twitching and shuddering as the other two made soft moaning sounds of pleasure. The subconscious pleasure signals being sent out through that shared tail were having a heady effect on all three of us, but I was by far the least skilled at resisting the pleasure.
My mind must have shut down for a moment. The next thing I knew, Jacqueline and Mary were watching with amusement, holding my hair and my arms back. The man stood over me, towering, as I peered up at his cock. I knew that it could not have been as large as it looked, or else it would not have fit in his pants. But with the thick tip nearly pressed up against my nose, it was very difficult to get perspective. I opened my mouth to say something, and he thrust the tip between my lips.
In all my life, I’d always thought of blowjobs as something women did because they had to. An unpleasant task that was done in order to convince a man to do a favor in return. Whether that favor was cunnilingus, doing the laundry, or paying a hearty price, it had always seemed very clear to me that it was not meant to be pleasurable. Decent women did not enjoy giving blowjobs. Even indecent women only did it because they had to. So I must have been the worst of the worst.
The saltiness was intense, but it carried a warm, familiar savory flavor. There was none of the bitterness I’d heard of so often, none of the unpleasantness. My tongue swirled around the tip, sucking loudly, gulping on the head of the shaft. It was strangely comforting, feeling his heartbeat against my cheek, the thick member pulsing and throbbing against my tongue. The beads of precum that flowed down my throat were strangely sweet, putting me into a trance as I slurped and bobbed.
I must have become distracted, because in no time at all, the hero came in my mouth. Thick, sticky wads of semen splattered onto my tongue, sweet and thick as molasses. They dripped down my throat slowly, leaving me in a happy little daze, barely able to concentrate as Jacqueline and Mary lifted me up, off of the cock. I made a soft protesting noise, my tongue tugged off only reluctantly as they pulled me upright again. “Wow, look at that, Mary.” Jacqueline grinned. “She sucks him off, and he’s still hard. Maybe he wants some more of little Cherie, huh?”
Mary giggled softly in my ear. “Indeed. Maybe he wants to take her cherry. What do you say, hero? Do you want to make a woman out of her?”
“S-stop teasing-” I began, feeling my face flush. Any further thoughts I had were silenced by the man’s fingers digging into my hips, and pulling me up against him. I pressed my face into his throat to hold back the cry, but Jacqueline and Mary moaned in perfect harmony behind me as he buried his prick inside of me. The blowjob had left me terribly wet, enough that he slid inside of me to the hilt, the tip of his cock seeming to press against my stomach. He was frighteningly large, but the sheer pleasure of being spread, of being filled, made it impossible for me to think of anything else.
Jacqueline and Mary held my arms, pinning them behind my back, holding me upright. Unable to escape, and certainly unable to resist. As far as first times went, it was hardly a gentle, tender moment. But it felt amazing. Each thrust of his hips made my stomach tighten, my fingers clenching into fists, our shared tail waving and lashing uncontrollably. Jacqueline and Mary sang a harmony of moans, their own bodies twisting and shivering with delight as the movements grew more intense. Then, with a single deep thrust, he came-
The world blanked out for a moment. I wasn’t sure what was happening, until I felt the quivers. My whole body shook, muscles spasming weakly, pleasure finally filtering up to my brain. As though every nerve in my body was vibrating, humming with energy, I felt myself lose all control, Jacqueline and Mary falling to the ground along with me. We lay helpless in front of the man, and I felt an odd little twist of fear. If he wanted to hurt us-
His fingers ran through my hair, stroking me gently, as he sat with my head on his lap. His fingernails stroked my scalp very gently, tickling it, making me feel deliciously lazy and relaxed. As I peered up at him sleepily, there was a quirked smile on his face. He looked into my eyes, and stroked my hair. Even as Jacqueline slurred out “My turn next,” I felt like I was the only person he was looking at.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.
Chapter 6: Alice, Amazon, Level Drain. Fetishes include: Physical-only Age Regression, Breast Growth, Fingering, Spanking, Coitus, and Level Drain.
“You’re Bichi?” the man asked, sitting across from me in the bar. His skeptical eyes drifted up and down my body. Men often did that. Especially, for reasons that I could guess, when they knew who I was. “I’d always heard that you were statuesque, a goddess among women. In that, at least, they did not lie But I must admit, I always had the impression that you were somewhat…” He coughed, and waved vaguely.
“Somewhat what?” I asked, my voice icy. I needed the document this man had. I needed the map. Well, I’d survive without it, but my goal would be a real pain if I didn’t have it. I knew exactly what the man was saying, because every man drew attention to it. Fuck, it was the whole point of this enterprise. But sometimes, you just had to give a man a chance to commit suicide.
“Well, not to be rude. But, you do have quite reputation. Glorious swordswoman, famous hellion, known far and wide as one of the finest blade-arms in all the lands. The tales of your accomplishments are quite well-known. But in all of the stories I’ve heard, nobody ever mentioned your, ah…” I waited, my knuckles white as I gripped the hilt of the sword beneath the table. “Chest.”
I lifted the sword up and sank an inch of the blade into the oak. I was hardly the first person to do so; The table was more cut than wood, at this point. Half a dozen men stood up, as I narrowed my eyes and leaned forwards. “What about my chest?”
“I’m not trying to insult you, ma’am,” he said, respectfully. “It’s just, well… You are a bit… Flat?”
Five minutes later, as the blood lust wore off, I sighed, and had to admit that the man had been right. I looked down at myself. Rich, dark, chocolate skin, tanned by a life in the desert. Hair the color of platinum, hanging down my shoulders. Long, fine limbs. A curvaceous rear. And no chest. Flat, titless, boyish, it didn’t matter. I slowly wiped my sword off on the tunic of one of the men, and reached into the jacket of the man I’d spoken with at first. My eyes lit up. He hadn’t been lying. I felt a bit bad about having just carved my way through his friends, but this was the genuine article.
The Mushrooms of Abundance were something of a myth, really. Don’t ask me why, but magic has never been any good at dealing with enhancing breasts. God knows that wizards have spent countless lonely, masturbatory nights working on finding a way to give any woman fantastic breasts, but no spell, potion, ritual, or prayer has ever managed to do the job. I’ve heard rumors that some goddess or another considers it a sacrilege, but the upshot were these. The Mushrooms of Abundance. Deep in the depths of the Rolling Hills, a dungeon of mad plastic surgeons had found a cure for flat-chestedness. They had been driven mad in their quest, and the entire place was a deathtrap.
Thankfully, I would be willing to brave a deathtrap for a pair of proper tits. The fact that I could then sell the remainder and buy my own private kingdom was just gravy. And on top of all of that, there would be the fame, of course. God, I couldn’t wait to get my tits wrapped around someone’s dick. When I was finished, everyone would know the name Bichi.
—
I panted, pushing my way through the last door. A grin a mild wide was on my lips as I stared down at the mushrooms. Smooth white stalks lead to broad, cream-colored caps, which were tipped with pink protrusions at the very tip of the cap, looking nothing so much like a bundle of tits growing in the middle of the dungeon. My expedition into the dungeon had taken the better part of a month, and had involved more than a few times being dunked in disturbing fluids. But it was all worth it, for this. I didn’t even hesitate. I seized one of the mushrooms, and without even stopping to identify it, I shoved it into my mouth.
It was hardly delicious, but raw mushrooms seldom are. I chewed and swallowed, and closed my eyes, letting out a sigh of pleasure. Already, I could feel the tingling sensation in my belly. It slowly rose up, towards my chest. I let out a little cry of joy, unstrapping my plate armor immediately- No point in ruining either the armor or my new tits. The metal plates fell to the ground, landing heavily, as I shrugged out of my clothing, feeling the grin spreading across my face. I was going to be the most sought-after barbarian in the world, after this. As I watched, my nipples stiffened, and perked, beginning to twitch as the transformative energies coursed through me. And that was when it all started to go wrong.
My head spun strangely. I could feel a burning in my arms, as though I was working them ferociously. It spread out through my body, every muscle seeming to catch fire. I let out a high shriek as the sensation concentrated itself. The pleasant tingle was concentrated in my chest, my ears, my temples, and my ass. The aching soreness seemed to spread out through the rest, every muscle tensing and releasing. As they did, I felt overwhelming waves of exhaustion run through me. I was a bit worried I had misidentified the mushrooms, when my breasts swelled.
No stretch marks. No unpleasant tears in the skin, no grotesque cartoonish blobs that felt like they were forged out of copper. My chest swelled to a B cup, then a D, and then beyond. I hefted my breasts, and the pleasure of that feeling, of having something TO heft, made all of the struggle, all the pain, even the torture of the transformation, worthwhile. My hands couldn’t even contain the breasts, flesh spilling over across my fingers slightly, marshmallow soft and gloriously smooth.
I frowned. In fact, they were spilling over quite a lot, now. And more so by the second. The tingling had ceased in my chest, but they were still growing larger, and the ache in my arms was growing fiercer by the second. It was at that moment that I looked to the side, finally distracted from my new breasts by the sight of my armor.
It loomed, now, the armor much too large for me to wear. My eyes slowly opened as I realized what happened. My tail lashed around, smacking me in one of the tits, and I moved my hands up to grab at my head, finding a pair of cute little ram horns, spiraled like cinnamon buns, protruding from my temples. My ears had turned slender and pointed. My hair, already long, hung down to my waist now. I had the body, in round terms, of someone half my age. My amazonian, statuesque appearance gone, replaced with an adorable, weak figure. I reached down to grab my sword from off the ground, and heaved. I barely even managed to lift it off the ground by the hilt. My arms burned, and I let out a little whimper as I dropped it.
In the face of overwhelming exhaustion, I curled up on the ground, grabbing my now completely-unwearable tights. I bundled them up, and pulled on my shirt, observing the way it reached down nearly to my knees now. And with a sigh, I curled up, and fell instantly asleep, hoping that when I woke this would all prove to be a bad dream.
—
“Hey, demon.” Someone prodded me in the tits, and I groaned. It felt kind of good, though.
My eyes snapped open. Yes, still busty. And yes, still tiny. Life was cruel. I looked up, and narrowed my eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”
The man smirked. He wore a set of plate, gleaming despite the fact that he must’ve made the same awful trip I did. He was clearly Paladin material, a tower shield strapped to his back, and a broadsword on his hip. He also had an expression that was both condescending and wary at the same time. “I am Sir Nick, Knight of the Cross. You appear to be in some distress, little demon.” He prodded me with a gauntleted finger again, right in the tit. I winced, and frowned up at him. “Even demons should be wary of eating things they find hanging around in dungeons. These mystical mushrooms have powerful affects on a woman’s figure, but if you don’t check to make sure they’re cursed, first-“
I stared down at the mushrooms. Cursed. Of course. Half the shit I found in these dungeons was cursed. I should have checked to see whether the artifact mushrooms were, too. And there would be no way to undo their magic; Even blessing the mushrooms wouldn’t work. Cursed items were assholes like that.
“And of course, I will be happy to escort you out of this dungeon, where you can be properly purified, and rejoin society as a good little girl-“
“Hey, motherfucker! I’m not a goddamn child, or a demon! I am Bichi, the Bold! Just because I happen to be cursed-“
“Bichi the Bold?” He frowned. “Never heard of you. Well, anyway, everything will be fine.” He reached down, and stroked my hair gently. I have to admit that it felt nice, but not nice enough to cool the burning rage that filled me as I shoved at his hand.
“You think I need your help?! You patronizing son of a bitch-!” My vision went red, muscles tensing and bulging. I grabbed my discarded sword, and hefted it into the air with a mighty will. Then, with all my years of sword training, I twisted, using the power of my hips, and drove it-
tink
I looked up at the Paladin, who gave me a very condescending smile. The sword hadn’t even rattled him, and certainly hadn’t penetrated the armor. I slowly swallowed, feeling very nervous. He sighed, and rubbed my hair, and somehow, that was actually worse than if he’d struck me, or even cut me down. “You’re a cute little one. Tell you what, how would you like to be my little squire? You can carry around my equipment and be… pleasurable company.” He smirked mockingly.
“Oh, I get it.” Maybe it was the fact that I couldn’t cut him down physically that drove me. Maybe it was the sensation of, for the first time in my life, coming up against a problem that violence simply couldn’t solve. Maybe it was his aggravating familiarity. “You can’t make it with real women, so you have to try to fuck little girls, huh?”
His face went red. “That’s- What an- I most- How DARE you accuse me of such actions?!” he asked, his knuckles tightening. I grinned.
“Oh, yeah, I bet all the women always start pointing and laughing when your pants get down. Little Nicky, I bet they call you. So you try to hang out with the only girls for whom your manhood will be properly sized, huh? Well-“
His hand settled on my shoulder. I stopped mid-insult, and swallowed. He really was extremely tall compared to me. His cold eyes met mine, and he nodded his head once. “You say you’re an adult? And you certainly seem to have a mouth like one.” He reached down, and removed his gauntlets. “Well, then I will take great pleasure in treating you like an adult, who is behaving childishly.”
He lifted me, pulling me over his knee. I tensed in a panic- And then, he spanked me. My back arched, my rear shaking- Not nearly as large as my chest, but still disproportionate compared to the rest of my body. I let out a sharp squeal, as he reached down with his other hand and cupped one of my breasts. “I know that you are trying to provoke me to regain some sense of control. I hope that you enjoy success.” He spanked me again, and I squealed. Then he lifted me up, and forced me to straddle his lap, his manhood pressing against my petite groin.
Perhaps it was the succubus magic that had infused me. Perhaps it was the fact that he was actually pretty handsome. Perhaps it was the masochistic streak that had driven me to get into fights for all my life. But my first time, despite the roughness, despite the strangeness, was amazing. I’d never felt a man’s hands on me before, in no small part because of my chest, and the way I reacted when people talked about my chest. This, however, was magnificent. Feeling him drive his manhood inside of me, spreading me open, it was even better than eating the mushroom. Tingling waves of pleasure and weakness mixed together, flowing out from my hips.
He, in the meantime, was grunting rather noisily as he thrust into me, making noises of effort with each thrust. Quite a few noises, in fact. Each thrust seemed to make his breathing more ragged, and his exhaustion was mounting. “Keep going,” I murmured, my voice soft and pleading, and he did as I asked. I could feel strength flowing into me. As he howled, and orgasmed, I felt a rush. Completely unlike masturbating, it left me feeling deliciously sated, both physically, and mentally. All of the anger and frustration seemed to drain out of me, leaving me satisfied. He grunted weakly, his seed churning in my belly as I slowly stood up. He tried to follow suit, and couldn’t even stand up in his armor.
I picked up the sword, able to easily heft it this time. I gave him a broad grin. “Thanks! I think that’s exactly what I needed.” Then, I flipped him the bird and started walking out through the dungeon, the bundle of mushrooms in my backpack. The armor wasn’t going to be useful to me, but that was fine, I probably wasn’t going to need it. Sure, this was a setback on my rep, but give me a couple years of practice with this sword, and I’d be as deadly as ever. And now, I didn’t have to kill men who disrespected me. I could do something that was infinitely more fun.
As I reached the stairs leading up to the next dungeon, I passed a green-skinned woman. She gave me a momentary look, and then respectfully nodded. She was almost as short as me, and similarly proportioned. A large set of bubbling vials were stacked in an absurdly large backpack, and I thought of something. “Hey. There’s a human hero, a fairly handsome one. He’s level drained on this floor, near here. I bet that if you move fast, you can grab him. He should be weak and level drained, so he’ll be knowledgeable, but helpless.”
The goblin woman gave me a curious look. “Thanks… But… Why aren’t you keeping him for yourself?”
“Oh, don’t worry.” I grinned toothily. “I’m going to have all the men I could ever want.”
Chapter 7: Sahuagin, Thief, Tentacles. Fetishes include Tentacles, soft-vore, gender transformation, and kuudere sex.
The sound of hoofbeats was growing by the second as I sprinted, adjusting my trousers and trying to ignore a growing pain in my testicles. My chain and emerald pendant- a gift from my mother- chafed my throat. For the tenth time that morning, I cursed the name Bartholomew J. Walter, the Third.
Bart was only a half dozen steps ahead of me. He carried a large sack over one shoulder, running in an easy loping jog. The pace had kept us ahead of pursuit for the better part of two hours as our followers stayed on foot. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be enough for us to get away from the horses. We usually would have more of a lead, more chance to make distance after pulling a job. But last night Bart had decided to fuck the mayor’s daughter. And naturally, he’d gotten me in trouble along with him, making it clear I was his accomplice as he went out the window.
Bart was a decent friend, a good man, an amazing thief, but I really wished he could control himself around women sometimes.
“Come on!” he shouted, taking a steep turn. “Keep up, Dirk!” He began sprinting with all he had towards the river. The Aston Strid, as it was known, was deceptively placid. The surface of the narrow stream, perhaps ten feet across, looked almost glass-smooth. Rocks poked out of it here and there. Just below the surface was a cave system cut by the full force of the river, biting deep into the rock and making a truly lethal set of circumstances. People died in the Strid. Bart covered the last dozen feet in a run, leapt, and his foot came down smoothly, landing on the rock. He sprung forward, and hit another rock, and another, dashing with the sure feet of a man who did not care that a misstep would lead to a gruesome death.
I tried to follow him, leaping off of the river bank, and into the open air. My first step was good, landing square on the stone. The momentum carried me to the second, and third. Then the slender, dark-haired girl lunged up out of the water, and grabbed me around the waist, yanking me down into the ice-cold waters of the Strid.
The sheer tidal forces were shocking enough on their own. My legs were dragged in one direction, my torso in the other, as I gasped out half of the precious air that I’d kept in. My lungs were already burning with exertion from the run. As I kicked and struggled, I saw the yellow eyes of the girl as she backed away from me, a strange expression on her face. Cold, uncaring, and yet… Her eyes didn’t blink or leave me, as though trying to memorize my face. She’d killed me. That realization sent the remaining strength out of my legs.
Something yanked at my ankle. I feared it might be the crushing blow of a stalactite, some knife-sharp piece of limestone that would begin the smooth and vicious process of turning me into fish food. Then my eyes went down, and I saw the glowing lights. Like blue Christmas ornaments, they lined a long strip of greasy white flesh. Bobbing and jiggling disconcertingly in the darkness, they also outlined another long strip of flesh. The second tentacle lunged for my face, and I reflexively pulled away. It didn’t do any good, as the thick length plunged into my mouth.
The texture was awful, rubber and grease mixing in nauseating ways. But the flavor… Something about it was soothing. Like mint and orange peels. The combination of experiences was enough to lessen my struggles. And then, air began to pump into my mouth. Scented with that same orange-and-mint, it was nonetheless clean and fresh, and my lungs screamed in relief to have the stuff, calming reflexively. Each breath out sent a pillar of gentle bubbles floating towards the now-dim surface. I could see six more tentacles reaching out.
Three of the tentacles went for my limbs. Wrapping around ankles and wrists like a marionette’s strings, they firmly held me in place, pulling me deeper down into the abyss of the Strid. Another circled around my waist. The last two wrapped around my chest. The pressure of the water against my body should have made them painful, but the jelly-like flesh seemed to deform effortlessly to keep me comfortable.
Nonetheless, my heart pounded as I was reeled deeper. I could see the thing the tentacles belonged to, now. It was a pod, like the kind you might find beans or other legumes in. But it was made of clear, transparent jelly-flesh, dotted with the strange little glowing blue lights. It didn’t look like a predator. That didn’t make me feel safer. There were worse things that could happen to a young man than getting eaten.
The experience was, however, remarkably like being food. The pod slowly opened, revealing a hollow space inside. The tentacles reeled me in, securing me inside, and the pod closed. Where the waters of the Strid had been nightmarishly cold, the pod was gloriously warm. The terror and adrenaline of the sudden abduction gave way to a comfortable, rocking sensation, as the pod shook me from side to side. That’s when the tentacles began to gently hum and stroke, vibrating against my bare skin.
My clothes were slowly melting. I felt a moment of panic that my body might follow, but even as the fabric dissolved and turned into strands, my skin seemed unharmed. My hair was growing smoother, finer, less of it visible below my hairline, but otherwise I seemed unharmed. My skin was taking on a milky sheen, pale and lovely like a nobleman’s daughter. I could see the way muscle was slowly shifting, and adjusting under my skin.
The tentacle around my waist split open at the tip, yawning open like a mouth. Soft, plush lips pressed against my balls and my pubic area, engulfing my manhood whole. Warm, slimy fluids began to circulate and churn around it, making my head grow cloudy and dazed. As I tried to focus, I felt the tentacles around my shoulders doing the same to my nipples. Soft warm white mouths seemed to suck and swirl against the sensitive flesh, making my cock jump and twitch strangely. I gasped, and took a deep breath of the mint-and-orange air.
Time slipped and slid messily around me. Every sense was being gently overwhelmed with pleasant sensations. I couldn’t focus on the changes rushing through my body. I looked up for a moment, and started. The girl with the yellow eyes floated in front of the pod,, staring in at me. She reached a single clawed, blue-scaled hand up, resting it on the outside of the pod. I did the same, and was surprised to find that my hand looked the same as hers, long black nails stretched out. My eyes drifted down, noting a delicate curve to my chest, a greater flare of my hips. I tried to focus. This was strange, terrible, a freakish violation and a mutation of my body. An insult to everything I was. But I didn’t care.
Slowly, gently, the tentacles released my body. Small, A-cup breasts were now visible, capped with pretty pink nipples that were almost exactly like my own, though larger. Long, dark hair hung around my body, framing my figure. And between my legs, there was no longer a man’s genitals. A delicate, hairless slit was visible between my legs.
My emotions all seemed so muted. Anger, fear, hate, all of these things were like distant tickles. I was like the girl, now. As the pod opened, I clumsily swam free. She took my clawed hand in one of hers, and handed me a spear. I nodded slowly. Hunting. Clashing for territory. Mating. I could understand all of these, even if they were different from the way I knew. The girl in front of me had done this to me. Part of me was quietly outraged. Most of me just knew it was part of life.
With a wave of her spear, the other Sahuagin began to ascend. My movements were clumsy at first, but grew more confident by the second. I began to pump my legs, ascending rapidly, my eyes focused on the surface. Gills opened and closed on the sides of my throat, cold water flowing through them and refilling my lungs. I let out a sigh of satisfaction, and followed the bubbles upwards, eyes firmly set on them. My sister grabbed my shoulder, and I frowned at her, before she pointed.
My large, yellow eyes glittered as I stared up at the water’s surface. A man stood there. Bart. I was surprised by the way that my heart began to pound as I saw him. I surged forward, breaking free of the water, and he backpedaled from the water, raising a long-bladed knife.
It was so strange. The anger was there, the frustration. I could remember how much I was annoyed at him that morning. But the strange calm that descended over me, smothering my emotions, it made it so easy to understand the reasons. Why I was so angry. It wasn’t the trouble he had gotten us into. It wasn’t the foolishness he had displayed when he had destroyed our cover. It wasn’t the changes that had struck me, making into this slender, pale, blue-scaled figure. As I stared up at him with my large, yellow eyes, I realized it was jealousy.
I felt things for Bart. Things I’d never expressed, but the broadness of his shoulders, the handsome cut of his features, the fine dark eyes. All of those things attracted me. His reckless arrogance. His athleticism. His dependability when our lives were on the line. They made me happy inside. They weren’t feelings that a man should have for another man. As I took another step closer to him, I was eminently aware that was no longer an issue.
He lifted his knife. My sister lunged forward, spear catching the knife and striking it out of his hand. I hadn’t minded the threat. It hadn’t made me fearful.. As he took a step back, ready to run, I asked, “Why did you come here?”
He paused for a moment, a very strange expression on his face. “I was… looking for my friend’s body. L” He rubbed his shoulder. “You didn’t see him, did you? I turned around when I heard a splash, and didn’t see him… I just want to give him a decent burial.”
I shifted my hips. His eyes ran down to my bare groin, and back up to my eyes. Almost too quick to be noticed, but not quite. I felt the frustration I always felt about him. But now, I could dissect it. I wanted his eyes to be on me. I wanted his desire to be for me. And the knowledge that he’d been searching for me was both maddeningly frustrating and pleasurable. “Looking for me, Bart?”
He stared for a moment. Then his eyes widened. I lunged forward, hungry. My lips, cool and soft, pressed against his. His body was intensely warm, sending waves of heat through my slender figure, my ear-fins pressing against the side of my head. He overbalanced, falling back into the wet earth at the edge of the river. I moved quickly, falling with him, my hips landing on his, my clawed hands on his shoulders, my lips staying on his. I broke the kiss, and began to gently tug at his clothes.
He grabbed at my wrists. He couldn’t have stopped me, but I went still nonetheless, staring into his eyes. “Dirk! For god’s sakes, man, something’s happened to transform you! This isn’t who you are!”
I took his hand, and placed it firmly on my own groin. “Did you ever wonder why I’d always get so frustrated when you went out with hookers after we made a big score?” My hips slowly rolled, pressing his hand against my groin. Strange little waves of pleasure washed up through my spine, nipples stiffening, breath hitching. “I-it wasn’t because I was angry at you wasting money. It wasn’t because I was worrying about you getting a disease. I wanted you to grab me, to make me yours. Not those whores.” I met his eyes, my expression fierce. The emotions were stronger now, almost painfully intense. As muted as my feelings of anger and uncertainty were before, they were now inflamed. The desire. “I want to mate with you.”
Any attempt to argue or disagree was interrupted by my descending hips. My pussy was virginal, hellishly tight, and inhumanly stretchy. I could see the pleasure on his face, and even as my expression stiffened, I could feel the pleasure welling up inside of me. My mouth opened, and even with my expression remaining calm and neutral, the moan that flowed forth shook the trees around us. At some point, Bart’s hands had gone from my wrists to my hips, squeezing me.
My movements were cold, mechanical, efficient. No wasted effort, just the merciless milking towards an orgasm. It provided a fierce counterpart to the raging turmoil inside my heart. The anger, the love, the frustration, the satisfaction. All of the emotions I couldn’t express externally were transmitted to him, in a language of moans and clenching muscles.
And he was enjoying himself. I could feel it from the way his fingers dug into my hips. I could feel it from the way he yanked my hair, pulling me into a fierce kiss. I could feel it from the ferocious torrent of his seed that poured up into my tight, clinging cunt. And I responded in kind, yowling like a cat in heat as I came, flooding his hips with my own orgasmic fluids. I was left panting and gasping through my nose, my expression staying as firm as ever.
I stood up slowly, taking Bart’s hands in mine, bringing him to a standing position. His semen slowly, serenely dripped down my thigh, pooling at my ankle on the blue-scaled feet. I looked at my sister, who tilted her head towards the water. I shook my head. She frowned. I pointed towards the woods. She raised an eyebrow. I nodded, and began to walk, tugging Bart along.
“What was all that about?”
“She was asking if I wanted to bring you back to the tribe. I said you wouldn’t be happy there. And I wouldn’t be happy without you.”
“You’ve been transformed into a monster, Dirk.”
“Yeah, but I don’t care. I still want to steal things with you.”
He grinned. “Well, I can see how I could have such a strong effect on you. Might be a bit tricky, but-“
“No more messing with other girls, though.” I turned, my free hand taking his, squeezing them gently, looking up into his eyes. “You’re my mate. No other girls get to have you.”
He paused for a moment. Then he grinned, and crouched down, lifting me up in his arms. I couldn’t help the surprised squawk as he pulled me into a bridal carry, my face going suddenly, terribly red. All emotional control disappeared in the fiery furnace of his cheerful energy.
“I’d prefer to call you partner.”
(4 votes, average: 4.75 out of 5)You need to be a registered member to rate this post.
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I liked this! The real standout to me was the Hydra; I doubt I’ll see one better written. The demon Inquisitor was pretty good, and I liked the golem. The rest were nice stories.
All good stories, all fairly well written. Just the occasional misspelling.
Your descriptors are worth emulating.