Lilly And The Raven - Part 6

Part 6 ends chapter 3 and starts chapter 4. The story begins to move in a new direction after chapter 4, so stick around. Check out the series page for parts 1-5.

In this post: Amazoness, elves, prostitution, cock expansion, bukakke, masturbation, futa-on-girl, milking/lactation

The next day, I examined my cock in the daylight. It had most definitely grown. It was now almost a foot long, five inches at least in girth. It felt massive as I held it, but it didn't sag at all when it stood erect. My breasts had grown too, another three inches in the last week. They were now bigger than my head, and none of the close fitting dresses I owned could contain them any more. I had ordered new ones, adding another five inches to my bust measurement in anticipation of how large they would be when the dresses were completed. The tailor had sent a messenger, asking if my measurements were correct. The messenger could see quite clearly for himself. They felt heavy, but didn't bother me. As the man grows in me, so does the woman, I thought to myself. It was romantic at the time.

Every night I bought a new body to ravage. Sometimes I would be the most tender of lovers, thoughtful, deliberate, giving my lover countless orgasms before I ever penetrated her. Other times I would attack them as I had the red haired girl, ravage them violently and quickly, raping them with such abandon that it frightened even me. My moods seemed random, but I went wherever they took me. I always picked Human girls, usually small but buxom. Months went on, and I started buying two or three a night. I would go out in early evening, when the sun had just begun to turn red, find a girl with pouty lips or beautiful lipstick and buy a blowjob. Always I made them swallow my seed, no exceptions. Then I would wander the streets, visit the few open shops. In a few hours I would find a new girl, take her to some dark corner and kiss her, feel her body, get worked up until I felt that if I didn't feel hands or lips or pussy against my cock soon I would burst, and then I would leave her. I would stalk the buffet until my eye settled on one girl in particular, guided by my lust, and take her off somewhere to love her or rape her, it didn't matter. Other times I would buy two girls at the same time, or three. I would take them to little hostels and watch as they all got on their knees before me, each taking turns pleasuring me. I'd line them up on the bed like my own mini buffet, sampling this one then that one, until finally the one I liked best would feel the full force of my passion and take my cum inside of her.

Each time, my cock got a little bit bigger, a little bit harder. My breasts got a little bit bigger along side, a little fuller, more supple. But they ached. Always I had heard that large breasts were supposed to give you back problems, but it was my breast themselves that ached. Occasionally some mysterious liquid would stain the front of my clothes, leaking just a bit from my nipples. I didn't know what to do, so I just ignored it as best I could.

One cold winter night, after my fourth girl of the day had been recently ravaged, I was soaking in a hot tub in my private powder room. My cock was erect again already, the head resting on my sternum, the hot water making it ache for the hot embrace of pussy—a young one, yes, one of the child whores pimped out by those crooked-toothed men...But my breasts simply ached too much to go out again. I ran my hands over them. My bust measured two feet now. I gave them a squeeze around the nipple to see if it dulled or distracted the pain a little bit, and a white liquid shot suddenly out from them, accompanied by the immense relief felt after holding one's bladder too long. I gave a startled yelp, then squeezed them again, feeling that relief wash over me. I squeezed and pulled forward against them, and the white liquid came out even faster, fuller, turning the clear bath water a murky white. I milked my tits as fast as I could, the relief almost orgasmic after holding in this milk for so long. When no more milk came, I released them, and they glowed with pleasure and contentment as if I had just finished off another little whore. I basked in that contentment and the steam of the bath and masturbated, as I hadn't done in months and months, as if in celebration. It hardly seemed fair, that my breasts could have release but my poor cock couldn't! So I worked that giant shaft as well as I could, lifting it out of the steamy water, then dipping it back in as it began to dry, the temperature changes driving me wild.

Finally the release came, and I at last understood what I had done to hundreds of women these past months. I always I had expended my passion buried deep in their wonderful little pussies or down their welcoming throats. Now I saw what my tremendous girth could do as a huge jet of semen blasted into my face from just a few inches away. I let out a little cry in surprise, and the next blast found its way with tremendous accuracy into my mouth. Reeling, shocked, but cumming, I thrashed as if in a fit in the bathtub, filled with shock and ecstasy at the same time as another huge blast hit my face, and lost some of its energy, dribbling onto my tits. Another shot, less powerful now, dumped another load onto my tits, then a small dribble. I gave my glowing member one more stroke, pushing out the last of my spent seed onto my waiting chest, then collapsed into the tub, careful to not to let the semen be washed away. I panted for a few moments, then got out of the tub, walking over to the mirror to see myself. I could barely see my face beneath the huge swaths of semen, even as it slid down and fell onto my breasts, which were also soaked with that filmy white liquid. My cock hung enormous between my legs, nearly reaching my knees in its semi-erect state. I watched it retreat to its easily manageable size, watched gravity pull all the cum to the floor so slowly. I felt well and truly spent. Milked and then milked, I thought. I washed up, and went to bed.

Chapter 4

The Slut Within

My routine became utterly depraved, and I loved it. I'd stay out all night, come home, sleep the whole day away, and get up only to leave again and find more flesh to satisfy myself with. I would milk myself when I got up, and before I went to sleep. At first I did it out of necessity, but then I grew to take nearly orgasmic pleasure in it as my breasts became even larger. They were even bigger, now, than the raven haired whore of whom I had dreamed so long ago. They came to rest just above my navel, so full that they stuck out three feet, and maintained their perfectly formed, symmetrical shape. I could only cover them with men's dress shirts that would never button, tucked into my microscopic skirts and belted with corsets that I tied tighter each night. I found a shoemaker who made me the impossible tip-toe heels of the common streetwalker. Adding eight inches to my height made me appear like a giant. The way I was forced to walk in those unforgiving arches made my bare legs tense all the time, the powerful muscles of my thighs visible like lines of charcoal drawn onto my skin. I was constantly approached by men trying to buy me, absolutely dumbfounded by my freakishly huge breasts, and I turned them all down no matter how much they offered. Money meant absolutely nothing to me, and I had in my possession the one thing a man could possibly have to offer me. They were like insects, these men. All men. I cared only for the women whom I hadn't yet ravaged, and that number was dwindling. News of the Elf woman with colossal breasts and a special, even more gigantic surprise somehow tucked under her skirt was in the ear of every prostitute in Al Zitti. Few would submit to accepting such a giant cock, and eventually I could only find the most desperate of whores, and even they would only agree to suck on it. I longed to feel it inside a tight, hot pussy again.

And that's when she found me, the one I had never seen out here, offering her body on the buffet. I almost didn't recognize her as she stood before me, for I hadn't thought of her in months. But I caught the glimpse of those sapphire eyes and it all came flooding back. It was she, the raven haired one from my dream, the one who had shattered my last flimsy hope for a normal life! Her breasts were twice as big as I remembered them now, and seeing her for the first time standing up I saw that she was only a few inches shorter than me, but it appeared we would meet eye to eye once our punishing shoes were off.

“How much for a fuck?” She asked me, licking her lips the way she had in my dream. I was absolutely raptured by her. I stared into her eyes, and I could see something strange there. They were vacant, somehow! She was driven by absolute lust, yes, I knew this, for my eyes looked this way each evening when I looked in the mirror. Pure, carnal, instinctual, insatiable lust. The possibility of her exploded in my mind, this Human woman who was almost as big as me, whose breasts also heaved, nearly exposed, covering her whole torso. She would not be a dainty flower for me to crush or caress at a whim, she would be my equal in power and lust. What had driven her to the absolute zenith of lust and depravity that I had found, had thought I occupied alone? What did she want from me that she could not find selling herself on the streets?

She gave me a questioning look, her eyes never gaining their own sentience. Well, the time had come, hadn't it? Time for me to become what I had wanted to be all along.

“Well,” I said, my mouth dry, “Two copper and you can do whatever you want to me.” Excitement rushed through me like it hadn't since those first days. To sell myself so cheaply! The going rate was a hundred gold.

“My,” The raven hair beauty replied, “What a cheap slut you are.”

“Yes.” Was the only answer I could make, and she slipped her arm around my waist and lead me away to a nicer part of town. To her own home, I realized as we stepped in, for again I smelled her smell in that place.

Immediately she turned after closing the door and pulled off her flimsy top, her tits spilling out like an avalanche of flesh. She tossed her hair and took two big strides to crush herself against me, straining to overcome the distance created by the mass of flesh smashed between us, and locked her mouth on mine. I barely had to bend my head to meet her, and I felt her power flung against me like the crashing waves against a cliff face, flowing into me through her hands as they felt along my arms, down my back, over the sculpted contours of my ass. I kissed her back, furiously, not to be outdone. My fingers raked through her gorgeous fine hair, lingered on her shoulders, felt boldly the inside of her thighs. We were like dueling titans as we stumbled, locked together at the mouth around her home. One held another against the wall, crushing her to it, until she gained the upper hand and forced the other one against a table, trying to push the other onto her back, into submission, and the tide would turn again. She ripped off my shirt and I tore at her skirt, falling to the ground on top of her as she stumbled with it wrapped around her knees. We grappled there even as we kissed, even our tongues dueling. Neither one of us would ever give up.

My cock had become hard the second the struggle began, and it rubbed constantly against her flesh, wedged between her breasts or beating against her like a club as we struggled to overpower each other. Her body was becoming slick with my lubrication, the flawless skin rubbing against the sensitive under side felt too good, made me lose strength. She rolled on top of me, straddling over my hips and grabbed my breasts, which responded with a sudden short gush of milk. She cried in surprise as I cried in pleasure. It was late evening and I was desperately in need of a milking. The raven haired one grinned and grabbed me by the hands, pulling me up. We both stumbled along, our impossible shoes clattering loudly on the wood floor, as she pulled me to another room. It was her wash room, a gas lamp already lit inside. Before I knew what was happening she had got me to my knees, was bending me over the ivory tub. I struggled, trying to grab at her leg and throw her off balance to get on top of her again, but she had me compromised, pressing her whole weight against my collapsed pelvis so that I could only squirm and try in vain to dislodge her. My cock ached, unbearably turned on by the frantic struggle that I was losing for the first time!

She grabbed my breasts again and squeezed, pulling downward as I had done a thousand times. Except these weren't my hands, I wasn't alone in my wash room doing what must be done and only vaguely enjoying it. This gorgeous, evil, powerful Human girl had me powerless in her home, milking me like cattle, breathing breathless questions into my hair about how it felt, calling me a whore and a slut for liking it so much. I couldn't have spoken to tell her, I had no words at all. Each pull was like an orgasm in itself. My mouth opened, my body went limp, my eyes rolled up and I could no longer struggle. For hours it seemed like she milked me, until the basin swam with a thin coat of milk and she released me. I struggled to stand up, and now she helped me, tenderly. I still felt her exuding power, but I couldn't fight it. She led me back to her bedchamber and laid me out on her bed, as I had done to her in my dream. She crawled on top of me, running her hand over the two feet of my burning hot cock. It lay nestled between my breasts, and she took one in each hand, closing them around it, and slowly pushed back and forth, massaging my cock with my own tits. I wanted to fight back, to seize her wrists and throw her over beside me, pounce on top of her and rub it between her tits, but I couldn't. It felt so good I couldn't move. She lowered herself as she slowly pleasured me of me, her breasts surrounding the other length of my member, and closed her lips around the head of my cock. They were just as supple, wet, and tight as they had felt in my dream. Her tongue felt rough but somehow smooth as she licked and probed.

I realized that, whatever had happened in her life, somehow she had seen cocks bigger than this. She knew how to handle it perfectly but more than that-- she loved it more than any normal cock she had ever known.

My desire for her flared suddenly at that moment. She could give me what I had wanted, had burned for for weeks now! My strength returned, a burst of primal, animal strength as I rolled over onto her, pinning her finally beneath me. She didn't struggle now. I had been in her power, now she would be in my power. We could go back and forth for all eternity.

I fumbled frantically to get myself into position, to guide my member to the spot between those spread legs that could give me what I wanted at long last. Her face contorted as I pushed in with a long cry of ecstasy and release, feeling the immensely tight fit of my freakish cock inside of her. It was tighter even than the little red head's ass had been when I raped her. But I could see on her face that this was what she wanted, that it reminded her of something she had known, something she had desired for a long time. Our passionate moans and screams went on almost ceaselessly, I was instantly lost in utter abandon from the pleasure, each moment itself an orgasm stretched over a hundred years, each thrust more earth shaking than the last. Her capacity to yield to my massive girth was astonishing, I could see the faint bulge beneath her skin as I ravaged her as fast and as hard as I could. Her pussy felt deeper than any I had felt, tighter, hotter, slicker, more textured, like a million tiny hands and open mouths massaged my member as it plowed into her. I watched in a trance as her enormous breasts heaved back and forth in time with my frantic plowing, nearly hitting her in the face and then nearly slapping against her thighs. My own breasts hung immensely heavy from my chest, slapping against hers in ceaseless, hypnotic rhythm. I drew myself up, my back straight, kneeling on the bed and pulling her up at an angle to penetrate her and pulled her to me as I thrust with my hips, and she ground her hips in a circular motion, jerking back and forth randomly. I couldn't count how many times she had cum, it seemed for her to be one long, endless orgasm of ever increasing intensity. Her whole body was tense with the pleasure of it, her face a mask of concentrated bliss.

I felt the end fast approaching. I felt my mind melting, my body becoming that beacon of pure energy, focusing down, down, down to one point, ready to burst forth. I tore my cock from her and she fell limply onto the bed. I collapsed to the side, and my cock pointed straight at the ceiling and began to cum so violently I nearly lost consciousness. The cum shot out of me in a huge geyser, the contractions deep inside of me so rapid and so powerful that the flow never broke. My cock swelled to twice its normal size, the orgasm going on longer and longer than anything I had experienced before. Huge gobs of cum showered me and the raven haired whore, covered our naked bodies head to toe. I was straining to hold my cock upright, to keep the shower going, but its sudden growth and weight too much for me. My arms gave out, and my cock crashed against me like a bludgeon with a loud, wet thud, and still my orgasm went on. Now just an inch from my face, my wild, uncontrollable member poured steaming hot cum into my face, filling my mouth as it opened in a gasp, matting down my hair and soaking the bed around me. Longer and longer it went on, it seemed it would never stop. For fully twenty seconds after my member had crashed down on me it dumped that liquid into my face, the whole episode lasting almost two minutes. I was exhausted, spent beyond words, completely unable to move when at last it finished. I laid there until the cum was cold against my skin, and the raven haired girl never stirred beside me. Finally I mustered the strength to reach up, to wipe the semen from my eyes and open them. My cock was still erect, but it felt content. It was bright red and the veins were thick as ropes on the mast of a ship. I shifted to my side, feeling huge globs of cum slide off of me, to look at my lover. She was laying as I had left her, legs spread, arms at her sides. She was staring up at the ceiling, but she was wide awake, basking in the glow of her hour long orgasm.  

Lilly And The Raven - Part 5

October begins...and today we reach page 17 of 49 of Lilly. New original work tomorrow or the day after~ Check out the series page for parts 1-4.


In this post: Amazoness, elves, prostitution, rape, anal

But of course I couldn't stay away from such pleasure once I had known it. My feet would not sit still come evening time, as the sun fell below the horizon, when I knew the buffet of writhing, sensuous bodies awaited me in another part of the city. Such behavior, so strictly forbidden my whole life. To even think about sex before marriage, let alone sex outside of marriage, was simply unheard of. Hardly tolerated at all, especially in the girls. Now it was mine, for marriage meant nothing, and I was too far from home for anyone there to ever know or care. The excitement I felt breaking the old taboos was almost as delightful as the physical act itself. And I had only done it once, in truth! Sucking that man's dick, when was it? Ah yes, wedding night, to prove that I was his property. It meant nothing. A thousand open mouths would swallow my cum now, and I would never have to be the one doing the swallowing ever again. I had the power and the freedom of any man in the city! The thing I rebelled against the most had become the hedonism I abandoned myself to. I hadn't even realized I had left the house until I was half way to the place I had been last night, dressed now in my shortest skirt and most revealing top, with my lips painted a deep shade of red, the rouge heavy on my cheeks, the kohl thick around my eyes. My wavy blond hair was clipped behind me but otherwise hung loose, bangs hanging in my face exotically, mysteriously. My ears had no jewels on them for the first time in years, and I loved how smooth and slender they felt without the cold catch of metal against my fingers as I stroked their wandering expanse from base to tip. I was always a bit vain about my ears, so long and slender...

I walked through the buffet even slower than before, in the shadows again to avoid being picked out by another perusing customer. I still had no idea what I would say if approached, and dimly I entertained the idea of accepting, going to some filthy alleyway and sucking off a stranger for a sum of coins so tiny I would have thrown it into the hat of a street musician though it could feed a regular family for a week. But no—that was no longer me. I was no longer the woman. I was the form of a woman, with the power of a man. The way the world should be, the aggression and power of men in the safekeeping of delicate feminine hands

.

As I said I drank in the sights even more slowly today. The bare legs, the ample bosoms barely covered, the sensual curve of the feet forced to stand nearly vertical. I wondered where I could get a pair of shoes like theirs. But now one caught my eye, another dainty Human girl, much more trashy than the innocent little country girl I had dominated the night before. She was taller than that one, her red hair was like a flame in the night. She wore only a bra of leather and a leather skirt that looked like a blindfold stretched to cover the bare minimum of her hips. Her legs looked like they were carved from marble, her eyes were heavily circled with dark paint, and her stance was utterly confident, endlessly sexual. I could already feel my pulse racing as I approached her and found her much less perturbed by me than the girl the night before. She asked no questions but came with me after naming her price, which shocked me as it was barely a fifth of what I had paid the other girl. I pulled her close to me as we walked to a hostel and rested my hand on her ass, feeling the way it shifted back and forth with each step. What a pair we must have looked! The tall Elf and the sexy, confident Human, both barely dressed, walking so close their sides touched.

Something about her demeanor and confidence woke something primal in me. I had known all possibilities with the country girl the night before, but now my focus was clear. The defiance and cavalier attitude of this one infuriated me in a very cold, dispassionate way. I wanted to break her spirit, to crush her confidence and leave her shaken. I wanted to dominate her like she had never been dominated, force her to submit to my will. As we stepped into our private room she asked for payment. I produced it, held it out to her, then snatched it away as she reached for it. She stared at me incredulously. I threw the money past her, smirking as it clattered on the hard floor.

“Pick it up.” I commanded. She narrowed her eyes but turned and bent down to retrieve it. I closed the gap between us in two long strides and swung my hand as hard as I could, slapping the exposed skin of her ass with a deafening report in the tiny room. She toppled over, unable to keep any balance in her impractical shoes. When she whipped around, fury on her face, I was already upon her, grabbing her arms and hoisting her off the floor and off her feet. She cried out, and it just filled me with even more satisfaction. I took the few steps to the bed and dropped her on it. To my surprise she started to scramble away from me, startled and frightened. I grabbed one thrashing ankle and dragged her back towards me, reaching with the other hand to pull her skirt down around her knees with one great jerk. I released her ankle and transferred both hands to her shoulders, pinning her face down on the bed. I could feel that lustful abandon coming over me again, driving my actions as if by steam power rather than conscious will. She cursed me, and I grabbed her arms again, flinging her from the bed and onto the floor like a rag doll, listening to her thud and clatter. She scrambled to her feet again and I grabbed her with one hand around the throat, lifting her just enough that her feet became useless. Still she struggled and cursed. With my free hand I pulled up my skirt and freed my raging member. It felt like a hot iron rod in my hand and I could see that it was visibly larger than I remembered it. She stared at it like it was a weapon and froze against my grip. I forced her to her knees before me, and in her terror she was beginning to submit. I held her by her fiery red hair and jerked her head back to look up at me. Kneeling just a bit because I was still so much taller than her, I began to rub my member on her face. It gushed lubrication, and her face began to shine in the lamp light, slick and sticky. I could sense her humiliation, and it just turned me on even more. Twice she asked me to stop, and both times I lifted my member and then with one violent jerk slapped it hard against her face. The sting felt unutterably wonderful. After I had my fill and wanted to move on, I released her and told her to get on the bed, on all fours. Meekly she did this, but I could still see she was only biding her time until this was over.

I was too tall to take her standing from behind, so I knelt on the edge of the bed behind her and quickly found her orifice and forced my way inside, heedless of the inadequate lubrication. Ah, the squeezing, hot ecstasy of that delicate canal! This one was was so different from my dainty blond beauty. I pounded her as hard as I could, forcing her to give into me, daring her with each stroke to attempt to escape me. Soon enough my member became slick enough to glide even faster through her insides. The slapping sound of my hips against her ass filled the room until it was louder than her cries and my moans. I eyed the tiny slit of her anus the whole time, wondering, wondering...

She finally cried out for me to stop, a fatal mistake. I was enraged that she would dare, that she would dare! To question me, to attempt to exact anything from me but the cruel thrust of my member into her. She should be glad to have only that! And so I did pull out of her, and her relief was evident in her sudden sigh. But I grabbed the cheeks of her ample little ass and pulled them apart, resetting myself. No! She cried out again, but I spit onto her tiny, winking anus and then drove my cock as hard as I could against its unyielding push. I pulled back and tried again, and it opened just a little bit. She was struggling to get away, but it was hopeless, I was too big, too strong. I held her there like a pin in the body of a butterfly. After much coaxing that most stubborn orifice yielded to me and she screamed in real pain. Part of me lost its nerve, but the other part redoubled its passion in compensation, and I pushed and pushed until I could truly go no deeper. I could see her bleeding, but I didn't care. I held her down and thrust, each one coming a little easier than the last. I was absolutely entranced by the tightness of it. So tight! I couldn't thrust more than half an inch back and forth it held me so tight, but each thrust was five times more pleasurable for it.

I wanted to feel her body and spirit break beneath me, so I went slow. I pumped her ass non stop for half an hour, until her trembling arms finally gave out and she collapsed against the bed, her hips held in the air by the strength of the cock ravaging it. She went limp and no longer struggled. I worked her ass faster, building up that complete abandonment of thought, feeling the torrent of pleasure approaching faster and faster, alarmingly fast. As soon as I felt my body tense up and get ready to release its pent up ecstasy, I pulled out of her, jerked around to lay on her back, scrambled on top of her, stroking the head of my cock as fast as I could as I positioned it over her face. And again it came, as wonderful and earth-shattering as ever, and I watched as each rapid contraction spilled another great torrent of sticky white cum onto her pretty, defeated little face. Her defeat, her violation, her humiliation made everything about this moment all the stronger. It fed off of her submission, like a hungry beast it devoured her dignity and washed it away in a torrent of hot white semen. I stared down at her for a long while, panting, feeling the contentment of release and the satisfaction of orgasm, of defeating her defiant spirit. I watched the cum slide slowly down the sides of her face to drip into her hair, to drag her makeup in filthy streaks behind it until she looked a horror. Her eyes were open, but she looked away from me and never attempted to meet my eyes. She didn't move, even after I had dressed, picked up my money from the floor, and left her there, broken on the rented bed.  

Lilly And The Raven - Part 4

Part 4 kicks off chapter 3 of part 1. Now things start getting interesting~ New work coming soon as I work out a commission.


In this post: Amazoness, elves, prostitution, futa-on-girl

Chapter 3

My Whores

I set off for the city with my pockets stuffed with gold that very night. I had the presence of mind not to go out decked with jewelery and fine fabrics as I would have at any other time. These things would show my status just as sure as wearing the livery of my husband's house. The only women on the streets of Al Zitti after sundown were prostitutes, so I would have to look like one in order to avoid being discovered. Accordingly, I put on the skimpiest outfit in my wardrobe. It was so offensive to me when I was presented with it that I refused to ever wear it, but now I slipped it on with mounting excitement. It was a garb of pure leather lined on the inside with silk, metal rods carefully stitched inside the hide gave it a permanent shape. Like a corset it squeezed my flesh into submission, forming my body into some impossible shape. I pulled it down a little further to ensure that the small bulge between my legs would go unnoticed, but this meant my breasts were all but fully exposed. The tight, constricting fit was uncomfortable, the highest of high heels that I owned even more so, but I did it all to look the part, or so I told myself. I slipped out of the house and hoped that no one would stop me and try to acquire my 'services'.

I headed straight out of the imperial district, into Al Zitti itself, to the open air bazaars that were now closed up as the moon slowly crept across the sky. At first I saw no one but the far off figures of watchmen patrolling. I walked into seedier, more dilapidated parts of town, my feet aching and the rub of the too-tight dress maddeningly sensual. I could almost see myself walking down the empty street, the outline of my ass working beneath the leather, visible as if I wore nothing at all. The flesh of my breasts jiggling like gelatin, the spill off my light blond hair over my face like a mask. Those I passed only glimpsed at me, and I wondered what they thought of the elegant looking Elf woman in such depraved attire. Finally, I came along the intersection of the bazaar street with the main travel artery of the city, and I saw them at last.

My heart pounded as I looked at them. They wandered the streets in every direction, dainty little female forms squeezed into as little clothing as possible, faces painted elaborately, some of them looking horrifying, and others absolutely stunning. It was a veritable buffet of flesh, something to satisfy anyone in the world in this city where anything desire could conjure could be bought and sold. The women all ranged in age from those who had just barely sprouted breasts to gray haired crones, ugly to beautiful, fat to thin, dark skinned or light skinned. Human, cat-woman, Elf, all intermingled in small groups along the street or stood solitary beneath a lamp post, scanning the area for available men. Even as I watched, I saw them negotiate with their clientèle, gesturing furiously or pulling close to him as his arm slithered around her waist and they walked off together in random directions. Despite all the people here, it was very quiet. The sounds of the night were louder than the mutterings of living beings. Occasionally a crack of laughter would burst through the silence, or a muffled cry, but mostly those in groups talked in low voices to each other, and those alone stared impassively at those around them. I was ignored as I walked along the street, just another body in the buffet to them. I looked at each face, appraised each nearly naked body.

Finally I found a blond haired Human girl who couldn't have been older than sixteen standing by herself in the shadows. She wore a white sun dress that was so unlike the tight leathers and see-through fabrics of all the others that I thought she might not be a prostitute. It hung loose around her, and she looked like a carefree country girl except for the devious white high heels she wore, so steep she stood on her tip toes. These shoes seemed to be the mark of a prostitute, for they all wore something similar. But she looked so young, so innocent and frail in spite of it all. When the evening summer wind blew I could see the outline of her body as the thin dress pressed against her, and it was exquisite. I had made my choice, and I fought to keep my member from swelling up and escaping its prison to thrust itself immediately at this girl and dominate her the way it had dominated the other one, the black haired one, in my dream. I licked my lips and approached her, my Elf stature in high heels towering over her so that her eyes stared into my breasts.

She looked up at me, wide-eyed, but scowled.

“I told you I don't want a pimp, I'm just doing this for a little while.” She spat at me with such an acrid tone that was so out of place with her angelic face that I was taken aback and couldn't respond for a moment.

“No,” I stammered finally, “You misunderstand. I have no wish to own you, except to bring you to my bed.” I realized suddenly that I was talking like a noblewoman, that no one on the street, certainly no one who had to sell herself, would talk like this. But the girl didn't seem to notice, or care.

“Oh,” Her face changed now, became neutral and impassive. “You want me to entertain your husband, do you? So many do. It's strange.”

I shook my head, “No, no. I merely want you for myself.” My heart was pounding as I spoke the words and heard the truth of them ringing in my ears. Speaking so candidly was not something I had known in my life of careful deceit and scripted obedience. The girl stared at me. I suddenly got the impression that she hadn't been a prostitute very long, didn't know how to handle this situation. But she nodded dumbly.

“All right.” She said, but I could see in her eyes that she added, but I've never been with a woman before. I grinned inwardly to think that soon she wouldn't find it all that unfamiliar.

I left with her guiding us to a “private place”. I slipped my arm around her waist and held her against me as we walked as I had seen the men do, taking an even greater excitement in feeling her against me, knowing that for the time being this body belonged to me and I could do anything to it that I wished.

We stepped into a tiny house that was little more than a kitchen with a bed in the corner, and I could tell it was hers, for the fragrance of her skin and her hair that I found so intoxicating was in this place. She lit a few candles and turned, her mouth open to explain her prices and her rules to me, but I was holding out a fist full of gold coins to her. She stared at them dumbly, utterly shocked to see so much money in one place. I could discern this, but it made no sense to me. This much money had been a paltry sum for my whole life, I had found myself wishing I had brought more as I perused the streets, taking in the buffet of breasts and lips and thighs. She took it, whatever rules she was about to recite to me in a cold, reprimanding tone erased from her mouth. For this much money, she would do anything at all. I felt a flash of the noblewoman's contempt for such debauchery. That she would degrade herself so much for a petty handful of coins! Rather than filling me with disgust as it would have any time before drinking that strange elixir, now it filled me with lust, and I could scarcely contain it. Was this how men felt about this depraved exchange of cash?

I walked over to the bed and she followed after stashing the gold away somewhere. She stood before me, visibly unsure of what to do next. I was long past my cultured subservience to indecision now; I positively burned to make her mine. I reached out, bending down slightly to grab hold of her flimsy little dress and pull it up over her head. She was naked underneath it, and the audacity of that sent another wave of desire through me. With my superior size and strength I picked her up, set her on the bed, a trembling doll made of flesh for me to play with. I got on my knees in front of the bed, and now I could see her delicate flesh up close for the first time. Her skin was soft, flecked with tiny imperfections and nearly invisible little hairs that made it even more alluring, totally unlike the flawless alabaster of the other one, the dark haired one. There was a birthmark on her right breast, her abdomen was smooth but not muscular like mine or the other one's. Her thighs were delicate but firm, and I could have stared for hours at the dainty beauty of her little pink pussy glowing in the candle light. I ran my hands all over her body, the constricting leather wrapped around my body making it hard to breathe as I needed to breathe faster to keep pace with my racing heart. My movements felt sluggish, my head was light, I felt drugged, but I still moved over her, cupping her arched back with my hand, closing my mouth around one small, perfect little breast. I drank in the feel of her, her scent, her voice, like a bottle of wine against my lips, growing rapidly intoxicated by her heady aroma and the salty taste of her nubile flesh, the strange taste of her mouth against mine.

At last I could stand the leather and metal rods no longer, I stood and pulled the thing off of me impatiently and as an after thought I pulled off my undergarments as well. I heard her gasp as I she saw the raging python slip out from between my legs, roaring for pleasure, demanding her utter submission. I brushed aside her questions, ignoring them. She resisted me for a brief moment, then yielded again as I pushed her further onto the bed and climbed on top of her. So what? It was just another penis, and the pay was astronomically higher than what she usually got for this same service.

She came after me now, her small hands groping at my breasts, which seemed even larger now though I didn't stop to examine them. She tweaked my nipples and ran her hands over my back as we kissed and pressed my member against me with her body where it lay sandwiched between us. Our blond hair tangled together and we rolled on the bed once, where she squirmed on top of me for a moment before we rolled again and I crushed her to the mattress with my superior size. I thought incessantly of that pretty pink pussy I had looked at, had run my fingers over. I probed it again now and found it wet and sticky as the fluid that came from my own member. I shifted now, drew myself up. She sensed this at once and shifted as well, spreading her legs open as much as she could in the small space. I gripped my member and probed between her legs, seeking some purchase there, now panting like an animal in heat. It seemed like forever that I prodded and caressed, but soon enough I felt something give and I pushed against it, guiding my thick member into that tiny orifice until at last I felt it yield to me completely, felt my member enveloped in a wet, burning hot, incredibly tight mass of flesh. A sound of pure delight escaped me against my will, and I pushed harder, deeper until I was in as far as I could go. I drew myself down against my squirming prize, my petite blond beauty who seemed so innocent. I would rend the innocence from her flesh!

I pressed her against me, my strength finding no task in of controlling her body completely. Slowly I backed out of her squeezing orifice, then thrust back in, feeling the ecstasy of that first push all over again. A low cry escaped the dainty thing in my arms, but I thrust again, feeling the blast of pleasure all the way at the top of my skull so that my eyes rolled into the back of my head and my mouth hung open dumbly. I thrust over and over, mechanically, with zealous mania, memorizing the feel of her delicate insides as they yielded to my power. I hated her and I loved her, I wanted to shower her with kisses and low murmurs of affection as I gently pumped pleasure through both of our bodies, and I wanted to hold her face against the bed and slam against her hips so hard and fast her spine would snap like a twig. But I kept holding her against me, working my hips in that hypnotic fashion, my thoughts nothing but currents of vague, primal feeling that surged and retreated in time with each thrust. I could see our shadows against the wall. I now sat back on my legs, holding her up with my hands against her arched back as she went limp with pleasure or submission I don't know. I saw my arms lift her body like a doll, saw the powerful shaft of my member in shadow, connected to her, then watched it disappear inside of her as I pulled her back into me. My thighs looked like the trunks of great, ancient trees compared to her tiny sticks. My breasts were mountains heaving upwards from the earth compared to her tiny rolling hills. My arms holding her up were things of iron, and her shadow was enveloped in mine, indistinct, the post script scrawled at the end of a massive treatise on raw feminine power.

Her brown eyes watched me beneath nearly closed lids, her face was serene, her body was responding to my assault with hard nipples, slick pussy, deep moans. I could feel my mind slipping into that dreamlike state that came before climax, that utter stillness in which all lust and all thought seemed to grow still and then culminate in a great rushing river of joy and delight, where all things were possible and nothing mattered. I felt that river rush through me, felt my throbbing cock swell and grow even more sensitive, feeling every tiny cell of her pussy as I drove against it faster than ever. I felt that river rush from me, my body tense, eyes flung wide open, mouth agape, guttural sounds being pushed out of it by the contractions deep within me. I felt my cum rush through my shaft and into her limp, flexing body, harder than I had ever cum before. I felt it leaving me like a gunshot, pouring into her in great, gushing streams. She cried out at the heat of it, the volume of it. I couldn't move. I was utterly stunned, completely lost in the wilderness of my empty mind, everything that had been there washed away in that torrent of ecstasy and now coursed through her body. I lowered myself on top of her again, my legs aching from the strange position I had held her in. Slowly, very slowly I returned to myself, looked down at her serene face, finding her eyes mercifully closed as I stared at her. I realized she had gained some sort of release as well, and basked in the afterglow of it as I now did. I shifted to pull my member out of her, finding it impossibly sensitive now, gasping at the sensation so close to pain but so kin to pleasure that I continued pulling it out, letting out another sound of pleasure and delight as it pulled free of her with a little sucking sound. Immediately a small stream of cum came pouring out of her. I had definitely spent my passion! I caught my breath there, straddled on all fours over her. 

Without a word I got up, still pulsating with that light and that feeling of being inside of her, of pouring myself into her. I squeezed back into my hooker's disguise and found that I didn't mind the exposure so much. As I walked home I experimented walking as the prostitutes did, one foot in front of the other, swaying my hips hypnotically, and I felt truly alive.

As I laid in bed that night, trying to will myself to sleep, my body was still a riot of remembered pleasure. I felt her against me, felt the incessant grip of her pussy against my member as if I had only pulled out seconds earlier. My erection throbbed again already, feeling bigger and more powerful than ever, but eventually I fell asleep purely out of exhaustion.

Chemistry Katie

A short story inspired by a 'bimbofication' thread on 4chan. May become a recurring character.


This post contains: Straight sex, prostitution, mind control, transformation, bimbofication, gang-bang

Chemistry Katie

By Writefag34

 Katie sighed, stripping off her plain shoes and pulling the band out of her soft brunette hair keeping it in a rather sedated ponytail. Another friday night wasted at the bar, watching all the guys mill around her like she wasn't even there. She tried hiking her skirt up this week, still looking like a librarian with her heavy khaki skirt and white blouse (buttoned to the neck), but still feeling almost naked with a few more inches of leg showing it, but no one even seemed to notice. She looked at herself in the mirror, feeling ready to cry again at the image of herself. Stringy brown hair that always laid flat and slightly unkempt, a rather large, bulbous nose, thin lips, big dorky pink glasses, unnoticeable A cup breasts, a shapeless waist, flat butt, and stick legs with chicken knees. She could see with horror the slight band of shapeless fat around her gut that she could never get rid of, but at least she wasn't fat...yet. She could already feel her depression pulling her in the direction of the freezer section at the 7-11 at the end of the block.

“I look like a cross-dressing boy,” she moaned to the mirror. She turned to the side, putting her hands over her non-existent breasts, looking at the profile of her flat ass. Her high-heel pumps were the only feminine looking part of her. She sighed again, “At least I have girly feet.”

Stripping off her blouse and skirt, she stood there for a few moments, looking at her shapeless body in the mirror, standing there in nothing but her cotton grannie-panties for a few minutes. She felt an unaccountable anger at herself welling up inside of her—anger at the world, too, for being so unfair to her. Smart girls needed love too! She had to be down in the lab while all the other girls were at the gym...not that working out would do much to salvage what genetics had given her.

At the mere thought of genetics, her mind raced off again, thinking about amino acids, punnet squares, inheritance...She walked away from the mirror, forgetting her sadness for a while as she pondered her future profession with a sense of dread. It was all she had, really—she could never be like her mother.

Katie slipped into a hot bath, thinking about her mother. She was the polar opposite of Kaite—tall, blond, buxom, and a little slow. She had been a dancer in several major Vegas shows that toured around the country, and Katie also suspected that she had been a stripper when she was younger. Her parents always curiously avoided the subject of how they met, saying only that they met at one of her mother's “shows”. Katie wondered to herself why she couldn't have been given her mother's genes—at least for her body. Even just a little bit, enough to curve her waist a bit and give her some B-cups at least. Then she wouldn't be a twenty year old virgin and the good looking guys would be too busy admiring her to be intimidated by her intelligence. For the hundredth time recently, she thought, fitfully, that so much energy had been expended on her brains that there was nothing left to find her a mate to pass on her genes. Darwin had failed her. Or perhaps she had failed him...or just proved him right. She sighed and slipped beneath the surface of the water.

Katie woke up the next morning with a strange but familiar feeling at the back of her head. She had an idea. She had no idea what it was, or even what it could be, so she ignored it. She had learned how to handle her ideas decades ago, they often came to someone as smart as her. Every brilliant person she knew described some similar feeling and an accompanying ritual designed to appease whatever muse had taken a liking to them. Hers was to simply ignore it, and in time it would either go away or pop up fully formed in her head in a classic Eureka! situation. She went about her day accordingly, putting on a long khaki skirt and a black button-up blouse with long sleeves, skin tone pantyhose, and some flat shoes, and heading straight to the lab to put in some weekend work.

Her idea hit her almost as soon as she walked into the lab and saw an open journal on the page that she had left there the previous evening. A study had been published detailing the theoretical basis of a procedure that might allow organisms to alter their genetic code in order to activate recessive or latent genes. The idea popped up in her head at once, perfectly formed, perhaps the most genius breakthrough in science since the Einstein field equations. Not only did she know that it could be done—she knew exactly how to do it! A procedure was already fully formed in her head, one that would activate and accentuate the waiting genes of her mother, and do it rapidly! She stood in the middle of the lab, marveling, her whole body tense, as if she'd received an electric shock. The possibility of side-effects never crossed her mind as she set instantly to work, though the possibility of her death through total failure did. Accordingly, she first typed up her theory, equations, and proofs on the computer with rigorous detail, her normally halting an incomplete thoughts flying out of her as fast as she could type them, fully formed and crystal clear to anyone with a passing knowledge of genetics and chemistry. She wrote down every single step so that anyone could replicate what she had done, or even reverse engineer it. She refused to wait for peer review, analysis, animal testing, ethics committees, FDA approval...she'd be an old maid by the time anyone was willing to try this on humans. She set to work at once, her heart racing as she broke every single rule in the book.

It took Kaite nearly 28 straight hours of sleepless work to finally get it right. Her luck was supreme in that no one else showed up at the lab while she labored away on her highly illegal self-experiment, the details of her breakthrough sitting open and unsaved on the computer screen. She was left with a small vial of blue liquid, looking like little more than dyed tap water. She held it up to the light after taking it out of the centrifuge. The purity looked perfect. After rigorous double-checking that took a few more hours, she decided that she had done everything correctly, and the best method of introduction into her system would be transdermal. She agonized for a bit, then decided that a soaked garment would be the best bet. She packed up her concoction and shut down the lab, her unsaved document disappearing with the picture on the monitor.

When she got home again, Katie went straight to bed and slept for sixteen hours, waking up just in time to go to class Monday morning. Groggy but still giddy with anticipation, she showered eagerly, being unashamed of her body for the first time in her life, knowing that if she was even close to being right it would all be different very soon. She sat through her classes without hearing a word any of her professors said and only just barely managing to respond when people she knew from the lab spoke to her. All she could think about was testing her brilliant theory, seeing herself up on the stage the next major conference, delivering the most ground-breaking discovery in the field of genetics in history, looking gorgeous as she did so. I might even win a Nobel prize...

She decided that evening, arriving home again, to carry out her test on thursday night. If it worked, she could finally get what she had been wanting the next day. If not, she could use the lab over the weekend to find out where she had gone wrong. She got online and started shopping around at clothing boutiques with evocative names, sites so unabashedly lurid and featuring such revealing and obscene clothes that it bordered on pornographic. She felt intensely embarrassed to be looking at such sites, but at last she finally forced herself to buy a skimpy looking strapless tube dress made of some shiny metallic looking material to use as her testing bed. It looked like it would soak well and be tight enough that the formula would be sufficiently flush against her skin for administration. The price tag was bogglingly high for such a tiny piece of flimsy fabric, but she entered her credit card number thinking of the Nobel money and research fellowships to come. On an impulse, she also bought a pair of tall high-heel platform sandals like she had seen in her mother's closet as a girl.

The rest of Katie's week was interminable, the days seeming longer than any she could remember, dragging on and on at a snail's pace. She got home every night and took sleeping pills while the sun was out just to sleep away the time until thursday. She had a bit of a scare thursday morning when her mail came just as usual through the slot in her front door. She had skipped class for the first time in her life to await the arrival of her delivery mechanism. She agnoized for hours, checking the tracking information online over and over again, seeing “Out for delivery” posted at 4am, but yet it hadn't come! Finally, late in the afternoon, her doorbell rang. She rushed to the door and flung it open, seeing the UPS man still getting into his truck. A small, soft package lay nonchalantly on her doorstep. She snatched it up, no longer willing to wait, and slammed the door behind her. She tore open the package as she ran down the stairs to the basement where she was keeping her elixir. She unfolded the tiny, thin dress and held it up to herself. It was baby pink and made of some kind of cotton polyester blend that shined metallic. It barely covered from her chest to her thighs, and was barely wider than her arms held side by side. She marveled, wondering how tight something so small could possibly feel. Like being naked, she supposed. She would know soon enough.

Placing the dress down on a piece of plastic, she very carefully uncorked the small beaker. She had no more than half a cup of this liquid gold, and she wanted to save some of it for analysis. As carefully as she could with her shaking hands, she poured the liquid over the dress, up and down, side to side, tracing a careful coil pattern to make sure to cover maximum surface area in one application. She used half of her supply, resisting the urge to use more. She took a careful measurement of how much she had used and logged it in her journal. She let the liquid settle and soak into the dress until the blue stains disappeared just as she had suspected they would. Trembling immensely, she stripped down naked right there in the basement and gingerly lifted the dress off the plastic, making sure it wasn't going to leak. With great effort, she pulled the dress on over her shapeless, boyish body, so excited she felt the absolutely overwhelming urge to pee and dance at the same time. The dress was even tighter than she had imagined, gripping her like a second skin. It felt damp and she started shivering at once, her small nipples stiffening up, clearly visible through the bubble-thin fabric. After a few moments she felt her body start to tingle where the dress pressed the elixir against her skin. She waited a long time, standing there shivering in her basement, but nothing happened. She had hypothesized that permanent change would happen in roughly one hour or not occur at all. She stood there for over two. The tingle spread over her body a little bit, but nothing happened.

Katie hadn't cried since she was a little girl. Not tears of sadness anyway. She had cried at a movie or two, and she had cried when she got into the college she wanted, from joy, but never out of pure, soul crushing devastation. She sullenly climbed the stairs and headed into her room, not bothering to take off the dress. She wanted, irrationally, desperately angry at herself, to punish herself for failing. She laid down on her bed and broke her streak of not crying until she fell asleep from exhaustion.

When Katie woke up her head felt light and sore from her marathon sobbing session. It felt hard to think, the usual buzz of her thoughts subdued. It felt a little more peaceful this way, and she bitterly made a note to herself that she should cry more often. She crawled out of her bed and pushed the tight dress off of her body in disgust, not even wanting to look at herself. She headed straight for the shower, avoiding the few mirrors in her house, and stepped in without waiting for the water to warm up. She gasped at the cold, but let the freezing water soothe her aching face and body until it warmed up. Resigning herself to a life of being the ugly bookworm, she grabbed the soap and prepared to face down her fate. Looking down, she was surprised and confused to not see her stomach...just the tips of her feet poking out from underneath two huge mounds of milky white flesh. It took her a moment to realize that whatever it was was attached to her...and they were her breasts. She raced out of the shower, nearly tangling herself in the curtain, a spill that would have cracked her skull open on the toilet, and ran to the full length mirror in her bedroom, still sopping wet.

A stranger stared back at her from the mirror. A stranger with huge, pouty lips, just like her mother's, ample breasts (at least a C cup!), and an elegantly curved waist with the slight hint of soft abdominal muscles on either side of the soft valley running up her midsection, stretching her navel out. The woman in the mirror spun around just as Katie did, showing off her thin waist and rather plump booty. It slowly dawned on Katie that it was really her that she was looking at in the mirror. She stared for several minutes, then rushed off to dry herself and brush her hair. She took out her blow dryer for the first time in years and attempted to put a little volume in her hair. It took to the treatment tolerably well—looking just like her mother's hair. Katie nearly squealed with delight as she dressed, learning that her old blouses could barely contain her new breasts. She was forced to leave a few buttons undone, showing a little cleavage that she had never had before. Impulsively, she took a pair of scissors to her one black skirt, cutting it back so that the hem would fall midway down her thighs. The skirt hugged her new hips tightly, and Katie's jaw dropped seeing the tight outline of her new ass revealed underneath the fabric. For the first time she noticed that even her nose was nice and slender now, and, together with her new lips, her face was almost completely transformed.

Katie's first thought as she started heading to class (wearing a low pair of pumps that she usually saved for nights out), was that she was going to need to buy some bras. She couldn't believe how wildly her unrestrained breasts shook and bounced about with each step. For the first time in her life she saw people looking at her rather than through her, even a few appreciative looks from guys who had never even noticed her before. All at once her confidence was soaring.

Something else had changed too, however. Katie blamed the excitement, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. She couldn't concentrate in class at all—the words seemed unintelligible to her, foreign, even confusing. She found herself wishing that the professor would speak a little more plainly and slowly.

In her third class she sat down next to a young man she knew from the lab, Ben. Ben was a typically nerdy looking young freshman with bushy brown hair and thick glasses that distorted his face they were so powerful. He wore t-shirts and jeans and never took much care with his appearance and always treated Katie just like any other guy in the lab, not seeming to notice that she was a woman at all, as many academic young men often did. Today he did a double take, the only person to recognize her.

“Katie?” he gawked, “Katie Brewer, is that you?” Katie smiled, but smirked devilishly on the inside.

“Of course it is, Ben,” she said, startling herself. Her voice sounded higher, more confident, but also more feminine. Before she had had the typical low mumble of a mousy bookworm.

“Wow,” Ben marveled, “I hardly recognized you.” His eyes flicked back and forth from her face to her newly swollen chest, no doubt drawing his own conclusions about how her breasts had changed overnight. “You look um...you look nice.”

Katie blinked, realizing no one had ever said that to her before. “Thanks Ben,” she said, blushing in spite of herself, and rushed to change the topic. “How's your research coming?”

Ben beamed. He had been working on a drug to enhance intelligence and willpower and had recently begun animal testing. He was a prodigy much like Katie. “The group A sample is showing an improvement on all cognitive and memory recall tasks 80% higher than the control. They're the ones who got the full dose. Just for fun last week I made a different formula to have the opposite effect and I started testing it, you know, on the side...it's not strictly approved, but it's just as effective as my smart-drug.”

Katie smiled, for some reason her mind felt a little hazy listening to him talk about rather elementary experimental concepts, but she understood eventually. “An 80% drop in intelligence? Wow. I think people will want the increase more, though,” she giggled even though it wasn't funny. Ben looked at her considerately, as if he was trying to figure something out.

“I can tell you've been doing a bit of testing on the side too,” he said slyly. Katie blanched a little bit. The kid was definitely sharp.

“No, nothing out of the ordinary,” she insisted. Ben rolled his eyes.

“You know you can't put that over on me, Ms. Brewer,” his eyes went to her chest, suggesting she knew exactly what he was talking about, “You've been working on some kind of targeted growth hormone or something. You HAVE to tell me about it. It might help my research if I can use it somehow to improve mylination of neurons in certain parts of the brain.”

Katie chewed her lip, wondering if she should try to keep the lid on what she was doing. Inexplicably, she felt like she should do what he was telling her to. She leaned close to him and whispered.

“All right...I've made a formula that can alter your living genetic code to bring out recessive physical traits, or, um...stuff like that.” Her brain started to feel fuzzy as she talked again. She shook her head to clear it. Ben looked at her with wide eyes.

“Holy shit, Katie,” he said in amazement, “That's incredibly dangerous to be testing on yourself...but it certainly seems to be working.” He hesitated, then continued, “I should come over so you can show me how it works.”

To her amazement, Katie found herself agreeing to this without really questioning it. Before she could change her mind, class began, and she forgot about it.

Katie was a bit surprised when Ben showed up at her door that evening with a bottle of wine. He uncorked it and poured her a glass. She briefly wondered if he was going to drink any, but decided she needed some confidence for that night. As soon as she was rid of Ben, she planned to put on her new dress and heels and go out.

Katie led Ben down to the basement, explaining as she went.

“I took the uh, the stuff, and I poured it on one of my dresses and put it on. It tingled for a while but nothing really happened, but when I woke up I was different.”

“Can you make more of this stuff?” Ben asked.

“Oh um, I, like, wrote all the sciencey stuff down at the lab, but I have the, um, what do you call it? The form-oo-la? Written down in my journal here.” She shook her head. Why was she talking like this? She sounded like a valley girl. Her voice had been going up in pitch all day, and now she sounded positively girlish. She took another sip of wine, blaming the alcohol for making her head all strange. She watched Ben looking over the little bit of blue liquid left in the beaker and paging through her journal. He smiled and was very friendly with her the whole time. He seemed to understand something about what he was reading in the journal, even though all the symbols and equations were starting to look like greek to Katie. She took another sip.

“This is very impressive work, Katie. You're the smartest girl I know.” Ben turned around with a smile. Katie giggled, high and girlish, blushing a little bit. Ben motioned smilingly to her glass and poured a little more wine in it. “Drink up,” he suggested. She did.

“You know, Katie,” Ben went on, turning back to her journal, “I think you're actually in some danger. Such a low dose of that chemical you made might be toxic.”

“Oh no!” Katie shifted nervously on her feet, “That's, like, awful!”

“The good news is I think you can fix it if you just drink the rest of it,” he said in very authoritative tones. Katie marveled at how smart Ben was to figure that out so fast. She took the beaker and gulped the rest of the concoction down without another thought.

“Ah. Thanks, Ben, you, like, really helped me out!” She giggled again and bounded forward jauntily to give him a peck on the cheek. Within moments her stomach started to hurt, and her whole body felt too hot to be healthy. She groaned painfully and took Ben's suggestion that she needed more wine, draining half the bottle. It didn't help much, so she dragged herself up to her bed and laid down. Ben helped her get undressed, feeding her wine the whole time, until the bottle was empty. Her head swimming and her body feeling completely wiped out, she quickly fell into a strange unconsciousness.

Katie woke up only a few hours later, her eyes opening to see Ben standing in front of her with something strange in his hand. But she felt great!

“Ah, you're awake,” said Ben, stepping back. She finally recognized the thing in his hand as a tube of lip gloss. “Good timing, we were just about to go out.” Katie blinked.

“We were? Oh! That's right, we were!” she giggled, then stood up. She caught a look at herself in the mirror and walked closer to inspect. Her hair was suddenly blond, which confused her for a moment, and she had on more eyeshadow than she had ever used in her life. Her eyelashes were long and curled, thick with mascara, and she had on copious amounts of eyeliner. Her lips looked even bigger now, and artfully puckered as if for a kiss, painted heavily with pink lipstick made shiny by liberal amounts of gloss. She licked her lips. Cherry flavored, her favorite! Something in the back of her head called her a whore, but she ignored it because that was a mean word. Looking down, she suddenly exclaimed, grabbing her chest.

“Ohmygod! Look at my boobies! They're huge!” She laughed mirthfully, jiggling her fresh F-cup breasts. At some point she had put on the tiny pink dress she had bought online and her platform heels. The dress was scandalously tiny, and she thought it looked very sexy. Her breasts were barely contained by it, her ass threatened to pop out of it at the slightest movement, and her long, slender, newly thickened legs were totally bare and smooth straight down to her tall shoes. “I'm like a whole new Katie!”

“You're name's Candi, silly, not Katie.”

“Huh? Noooooo,” she giggled again, “It's, um...I'm pretty sure it's Katie...no, no, you're right, it IS Candi! What was I thinking?” Her whole body shook with another giggle fit. Ben smirked.

“Come on, Candi, we're going to be late for the party.”

Candi smiled and took Ben's hand, click-clacking after him on her tall heels, not bothering to ask any questions because it was too hard. She turned on a pop station in Ben's car and bopped around in her seat, her huge breasts slipping free of her dress's tenuous hold on her heaving bosom. Each time she'd simply laugh and pull the dress back up.

The two of them arrived back at the University, and Ben led candy down some stairs that she thought looked familiar, but she didn't think about it too hard because they were going to a party so why bother thinking? Soon they emerged in the very lab Candi had made her concoction in, though she didn't recognize it now.

“Boys, meet Candi!” Ben called out to the group of young men waiting in a circle in the middle of the lab. At once they all stood up, and Candi vaguely remembered that she had done stuff with them in the past, back when she was always reading books and stuff. The boys crowded around her, looking her scantily clad form up and down, a few of them reaching out to touch her waist or her shoulder. She smiled at them vacantly, just enjoying the attention.

“There's no way this is Katie Brewer,” said one of the boys.

“You really gave her your intelligence-inhibiting drug?”

“Are those tits real?”

Ben laughed and nudged Candi. “Take out your purse,” he said, “Show them your ID cards.”

Candi was confused for a second about why she should do that, but she just shrugged and did as she was told. The boys marveled at her student ID and driver's license, which made her giggle. What a silly thing to get so excited about!

“Candi, what do you want to do tonight?” Ben asked her.

“Ummm, I guess I, like, want to party? This is, like, a party, right?”

“Are you feeling horny right now?” Ben's question sounded more like a statement. Candi hadn't thought about it until just now, but when he mentioned it, she did find that she felt pretty horny.

“Um, yeah, I guess I am!” she giggled, putting her hands behind her back and puffing her chest out, watching all the boys' eyes fall to drink in her new cleavage. She started swaying side to side, smiling dumbly.

“Do you want to have sex right now? With one of these guys? Or all of them?”

Candi thought for a moment, then giggled. “Yeah! I wanna have sex with, like, all of them!” she grinned.

Ben pushed her forward, the circle of men closing around her. “Well, you heard her boys! Twenty from each of you before you leave.”

Candi briefly wondered what he meant by 'twenty', but soon forgot when all the boys started groping her new body at once. She giggled playfully, feeling hands all over her breasts, hips, ass, thighs, and waist. They quickly stripped off her dress, revealing her perfect body with its hourglass figure, heaving breasts, bubble-butt, and flawless complexion. A small fight broke out over who got to go first, which Candi didn't pay much attention to, just enjoying the attention. Once it was worked out she found herself pulled roughly into one of the men, a short and slightly portly twenty something who had a rather bad odor and a crooked nose. She smiled up at him, pressing her naked body shamelessly against him. He put his hand on the top of her head and pushed, so she obediently got down on her knees in front of him, watching him undo his belt and take out a somewhat small un-cut cock. The others watched as he shoved it in her face, poking her lips. Candi unblinkingly slid her ample lips over the offered member, squinting a little bit at the strong taste, but feeling like she was finally doing something she was good at. All the talking just made her head hurt.

On her knees in the lab, the others watched her head bob up and down between the portly nerd's legs, the man groaning, holding the back of her head. Candi rocked back and forth on her knees, taking as much of the cock into her mouth as she could and sucking hard, rubbing her tongue against the underside of his shaft. She obediently spread her legs a bit farther apart when she felt someone kneel down behind her and slide his hands over her ass to grab on to her hips. She moaned and giggled with delight, even with the cock in her mouth, when she felt the stranger behind her sliding his member into her soft, slightly moist pussy. She listened, fascinated, to the sound of his hips slapping against her taut bubble-butt, and imagined herself on her knees, taking dicks from both ends without a care in the world. It made her feel happy.

Before long someone stepped up beside the man she was blowing, his cock also shoved in her face, already rock hard as he stroked it. She obligingly switched, sliding her mouth over the new cock while keeping the original hard with her hand, the stranger behind her still pounding away at her cunt.

“Holy shit, she's such a slut,” the newcomer muttered. Candi looked at him in surprise, then laughed.

“Yeah! I'm, like, the best slut in the world!” she agreed, then went back to sucking him eagerly.

“You're the biggest slut in the world,” the man behind her corrected. Another walked up on the other side of her original suitor and she switched to service him, working the other two wet cocks with her hand. With grace and precision, she switched between the three cocks on offer, alternately sucking and stroking each one. It went on for a few minutes until her original suitor finally announced that he was going to cum. She immediately switched to suck him over the edge, then turned her head up with mouth open and eyes closed, obligingly taking a few spurts of hot semen over her face, a little bit of the bitter stuff getting in her mouth. Something in the back of her mind said something about 'condoms', but she ignored it because she knew guys hated it. At the sight of her, the boy to her left also suddenly gave loose, splashing her face with a little more cum. She grinned and laughed, loving every second of it. Not long after, the man behind her also tensed up, his cock buried balls deep inside of her, and she could feel his member twitching and jerking as he dumped his load into her. She thought nothing of it. As soon as he pulled out, another anonymous man stepped up and took his place, two more appearing in front of her, and she got back to work servicing them.

Not twenty minutes after she started, Candi lay naked on the floor of the lab, panting and looking totally at ease. Her face was covered in a thick coat of sticky white cum turning quite cold against her skin as it sat there. She could also feel a little trickle coming out of her pussy and running down her thigh. She watched the boys shuffling out of the lab, sticking green pieces of paper into Ben's hand. When they were all gone, Ben walked towards her again. She smiled at him.

“Hey Ben! Guess what? Guess what I am?” she giggled at him.

“What are you, Candi?” he smiled back.

“I'm, like, the biggest slut in the world!” She laughed, holding her hands apart to demonstrate just how big. Ben chuckled.

“That you are Candi. Are you ready to go to the next party?”

Candi sat up, bouncing excitedly, taking the napkins Ben offered her and wiping her face.

“Yay! Party! I, like, totally love parties!”

Lilly And The Raven - Part 1

Here is part 1 of a story I wrote back in about 2008, an autobiograpby of sorts, written by an Elven noblewoman living in a strange fantasy world of magic, perpetual war, and constant danger. She lives in a patriarchal society that despises powerful women like her. The story is very long and will be posted over time in dozens of parts and covers a huge range of fetishes and situations. This first post is longer than what will be posted in the future since it introduces the world and the character of Lilly, setting up everything that happens after.


This post contains: Straight sex, amazoness, elves, prostitution, death?

Lilly And the Raven

By Writefag34

Part 1: The Powerful

Chapter 1

The Change

If you were to look at me now, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't believe I used to be a noblewoman of Al Zitti, one of those exotic wives of severe military diplomats, eating daintily from delicate china in the Empresses' grand dining hall so that my corset wouldn't feel tighter from the food. Rarely seen in public, for they are rarely let out of the house, and always to be revered and respected and admired from afar. Every little girl should have dreamed of being me. I was born of nobility in Eel'Dora, married off to an even more noble figure in the military off across the ocean in the east, a hapless sacrifice on the altar of international commerce. But that was my life. I was bred to be the head of the household, but always subservient to men. I hated the life, but knowing there was no escape, turned that hatred into productivity in my wifely duties. I really was the model noblewoman, proud, aloof, beautiful, and submissive. All of this made my downfall all the more spectacular, the humiliation and disgrace on my husband and my family all the more complete.

My husband was a powerful sorcerer in the employ of the Empress herself. Though the generals had higher rank, my husband's work was more important than theirs. It consumed his life, and always threatened to encroach on mine. When I was married off to him, the papers that made me his legal property arriving the day before my ship, I had never seen him before. He was not an ugly man, but he was thirty-five years older than me, myself being seventeen at the time. I was a rebellious and hateful girl, always shunning my domestic education, but learning it nonetheless at the threat of the whip. My friends and my cousins, all of them completely without my rebellious air, perfect subservient whores as they were meant to be, were all horribly envious of my marriage. My cousin had been married the year before to some awful landowner, so I was not the first, but mine was the most lucrative and potentially profitable marriage in Eel'Dora in decades. My mother, father, brothers, and aunts spend months pounding it into my skull that I must be absolutely the best wife to ever grace the upper crust of imperial nobility. I knew nothing of culture in the east, and nor did anyone else I knew. I was going blind and unwillingly into a new life thousands of miles from anything I knew, but I was resigned to it. What choice did I have? What choice, indeed...

When I arrived in Al Zitti, my husband was still an apprentice of the head sorcerer, but still had vast wealth and connections that my family sold me off to attain. “Ah, my beautiful daughter knows the Serpent Generals personally, has dined with them, surely you can accept these terms...” The people I loved had sold me off for bragging rights. Bitterness cannot describe what I felt. For the time being, my husband lived in a huge, opulent estate deep within the imperial city, miles upon miles of elite guards armed to the teeth with swords, bows, pikes, and powerful magic of my husband's design between us and the encroaching beastmen hordes. I threw myself into my new duties with zeal as I had nothing else to do in this beautiful, empty, boring place. My first duty, of course, was to consummate my marriage the very night I arrived, blinking wide-eyed under the harsh sun of an alien world. Ah, what a vision I was that night! Among my belongings that I carried with me was the traditional evening garb that a woman was to wear to consummate her marriage and again on each anniversary. Mine my mother had made herself from delicate pink silk so soft it made my skin coarse as stone. It wrapped around my chest—I was very buxom for a girl my age and the bubble-thin fabric clung so tight my nipples could be easily seen pushing against it in protest, the fabric of the insubstantial garb slipping lower and lower, exposing more of the soft flesh of my breasts as I walked-- and clung to my narrow waist, my wide hips, and hung loose just below my high buttocks. What little of the fabric existed was held on by two straps so thin they were almost impossible to see against my creamy white skin. My lips were full and looked moist with the delicate red paint I had put over them, the pink of my tight, tiny robe made my green eyes light like emerald fire as I stared at myself in the mirror. My long, pointed ears were adorned with jewels and the rest of me was completely naked. I had never been so under dressed in my life, even when sleeping. I was nervous beyond measure, mostly because I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I could only get subtle, embarrassed hints in incomprehensible language from my prudish mother, and of course my cousins and friends would never admit to premarital sex if they had it, even to me, the rebellious girl who would more likely encourage them than oust them. It seems so silly now, looking back on it.

My anxiety was heightened by the fact that my husband was a Human, and I was an Elf. What disturbed me more than being forced to break the strongest of taboos in Elf culture, interracial sex, was the pure mechanics of it. I was taller than my husband by a head, even though at seventeen I hadn't finished my growth spurt. Among his people, he was considered moderately tall and in excellent shape, but my limbs were larger than his, though soft, smooth, and supple things in contrast to his chiseled, bulging muscles.

His body fascinated me, even long before we retired to our shared bedroom that night. I had always been a very horny girl, from the very moment something in my mind clicked into place and I became interested in boys and learned the words that described what I could do with them in private. I had wanted to do it, had longed for it. But immured in a mansion prison, the chance never came. Despite considering myself such a rebel, I still found I was too arrogant and full of high status to lower myself enough to have sex with a servant or the stable boy. But I certainly thought of it. On those interminable, boring days where I sat in my beautiful room and stared out of my window at the city below I would think about going down to the stables, laying naked in the hay, the beautiful young stable boy (though he was at least ten years my senior my pomp still demanded I refer to him as boy) climbing on top of me and showing me all the ways in which I could be a good wife. Once or twice I found myself walking shakily down the stairs in the direction of the stables, my whole body quivering with excitement, guilt, horror, and lust, but would always turn and run back up the stairs, and my fantasies would become darker each time. Eventually, I no longer seduced the stable boy but he seduced me, coming to my chambers with some false excuse and wooing me into my bed in such a way that I didn't even realize I was giving in to him. Eventually, he dispensed with the excuses and came barging into my room as I slept. As the years wore on, I would find myself staring at soldiers in the streets and wondering if all the tales of them raping noblewomen for sport were true, and hoping that they were. But I only pined, and hoped, and lusted uselessly. I had to wait until I was married to finally get what I wanted. I had to wait until...today.

It was rather disappointing, all in all. Nervous and embarrassed, I blundered from one thing to the next, totally unable to negotiate the size difference between us. He kissed me and I didn't know how to react, he groped my breasts roughly and massaged my behind, and I felt only mild curiosity and wonder. I tried to do what he directed me to, wondering when I would feel something other than nerves and stupidity. Of course, I had only a faint idea of the pleasure contained between my legs, and that night I only sucked dumbly on his member, waiting for something to happen. Within minutes I tasted the salty, acidic paste of his seed in my mouth and summoning all my strength, will, and training I swallowed it as he told me to. He seemed pleased, and that, my mother's voice told me, was all that should matter to me. I lay beside him awake for hours in my gorgeous pink slip with my face painted (but no doubt smeared around my lips) and my ears bejeweled and tried to suppress the overwhelming hatred I felt for him. All the hopes I had for all the tantalizing rumors, all the naughty, forbidden words so full of promise were lost to me forever because of him.

For a long time, I hated all men, and I made no effort to hide it. But Al Zitti is a city of men, by men, and for men. The only women ever seen in public for more than a glimpse were prostitutes, who were barely tolerated only because the soldiers required their services and soldiers outnumbered the nobility who despised the whores one thousand to one. A rebellious noble wife simply didn't exist. Those who appeared from time to time promptly disappeared as mysteriously as they came, and if they ever reappeared again they hid their face and spoke not a word, terrified eyes peering sharply out from under black veils they never removed. I scowled at my husband's friends, his colleagues, the other noblemen we entertained. I resented the way they fondled their wives, dressed them up like the whores they purported to despise, with such zeal that I frightened myself. But I did not feel pity for these frail figures, grafted to the sides of their husbands. I did not wish to see them released, or to even have their conditions improved. I hated them, too, because I saw myself in them. For all the resentment I poured out with my face, the acid on my tongue and the haughtiness in my gestures, I was one of them. I trailed behind my husband like a dog on a leash to the houses of other lords. Gone were the elegant taffetas, corsets and gloves of lace, full, flowing skirts and elegant slippers of Eel'Dora. What few I had brought with me sat unused in my armoire, my husband insisting that I looked like a matron in them, that I must wear the latest fashions of his people, now that I was one of them. These fashions resembled what I had worn for him that first night and felt naked in quite closely. Close fitting tubes of fabric that hung loose about the chest, always threatening to slip off as they had no straps. I wore the skirts as long as my husband would allow, down to my knees, as long as they were skin tight. On my feet were shoes made of wood and wrapped in leather with heels that rose five inches and hurt my feet terribly. I wore as much jewelery as I could to cover up, but I still felt exposed. I could only take comfort in the fact that the wives of the other lords wore even less than I did.

I knew from my training that being a wife was essentially being a showpiece, but I had never been prepared for this. My hate burned in me, the flames fanned every day as some new annoyance or some new indignity was visited upon me. I took to seeing to it that the house was absolutely immaculate all of the time. I drove the servants like cattle. All of them were women, and older than me, but I didn't let that stop me. I shouted at them, and occasionally slapped or whipped them, releasing all my pent up rage but finding that there was more rage than I could ever slough off. Anything could set me off, from a misplaced vase to a spot of dust on a counter top. I would rage and rage, and the servants would complain to my husband that I was a mad woman, but my husband didn't care. He was too busy. His superior had been killed six months ago, we had been married for a year by this time, and his life had been utterly consumed by performing both his own duties and those vacated by his master. He worked all hours of the day, sleeping as little as possible and paying as little attention to me as he did to the pleas of the servants. He had not so much as run a hand over my breast since that first night. He began to bring his projects home with him, working on them in the cellars or spare rooms. As time went on his work spread to more and more of the house. Potions, alchemical devices, scrolls written in a language I couldn't even begin to comprehend, artifacts, weapons glowing faintly green or red, as if the metal was alive. These things terrified me, but more than that, they were an absolute mess. In my madness I desired complete order, complete control of my environment, and he was destroying it. Destroying it as he had destroyed my previous life, destroying it as he had destroyed my hopes and dreams of carnal pleasure, destroying it like my dignity, my upbringing, my shame. He expected of me what every man of the Empire expects of his wife, what any Elf man would have expected of me if I had married one of my own people instead—to yield to him. To allow him to do as he would, do be another beautiful thing in his house full of beauties. Well, I was the rebellious one! I would not yield, not this time. I had always raged, but in the end done as was expected of me, but no more!

I should say that up to this point he had not yet destroyed marriage for me completely. Part of me still believed that it could all change, once he wasn't so busy. I still entertained my fantasies of the stable boy, and occasionally I would look up into that face from my youth in my imaginary moment of climax and it would be the face of my husband. But of course, a man who descended from an entire race of destroyers could do nothing but destroy. I came home one night from the home of one of the few noblewomen in this city whose presence I could endure, her name was Estelle and she was an Elf like me, though not transplanted. Her mother was from Eel'Dora but Estelle was born and raised in Al Zitti. So I was feeling somewhat amiable, warmed by wine and decent company, and ready to go to bed. As I approached my bedchamber I heard voices, one of them was my husband's and another one was a woman. I knew the voices of the servants and it was not one of them, and they were speaking in low, sensual tones to each other. The man's questioning, the woman's meek and supplicating. I was filled with terror and fear as my hand closed on the door latch and I slowly opened the wooden door, still half expecting to see my husband engaged in polite conversation with a colleague. But of course he wasn't. It took me a moment to grasp what I was seeing, for I was at once struck by the absolute beauty of the woman sitting in my husband's lap. She had turned her body to look over her shoulder at me as the door opened, and her blue eyes looked like huge sapphires set in her face. Her huge lips were painted a deep purple that made her face utterly irresistible. Gigantic, perfectly formed, flawless breasts hung heavy from her chest, themselves looking like exquisite jewelery as they glistened with moisture in the low lamplight. Her waist was so narrow she looked like she wore a corset, even though she did not, her hips were even wider than mine, her bare buttocks so ample they looked stuffed like a feather pillow. As my eyes drifted this low I saw that they had already begun their passion, even though the girl still wore her skin tight black dress, now crumpled around her waist, and the heeled shoes so steep I couldn't fathom how she walked in them. My husband's throbbing member pulsated inside of this girl, looking so perfectly formed in that orifice it was as if the girl was just another piece of jewelery, designed to fit him perfectly and be yet another beautiful thing adorning his luxurious lifestyle. All of this I saw in an instant, the image of that absolutely flawless girl, barely older than me, sitting in my husband's lap, being pierced by his manhood. As my husband fumbled for words and tried to push the girl off of him I saw the money on the night stand, next to the girl's handbag. So—his exotic bride was so undesirable that he put aside his principles as a nobleman and went about when she wasn't home, fucking whores in the bed they shared. I was shocked to find that I was utterly wounded by this, even though if you had asked me an hour before I said I would not care. I merely closed the door on his excuses and left to lay on the couch in the drawing room. Not long after, I heard the girl moaning louder and louder, until she was shouting obscenity in her ecstasy. She was mocking me. She hadn't cared that her client's wife had come home, she had stared at me defiantly and kept herself rooted in place as my husband pushed at her. Now he had destroyed everything. Marriage was in utter tatters, and the ecstasy I knew must exist in sex was confirmed, and closed off to me forever.

But what could I do? Despite all my rage, I could not bring myself to scream at him, smash his instruments, rip his parchments—besides, that was just yet more chaos, and I feared the repercussions. I remembered the half-whispered rumors of the noblewomen explaining another woman's utterly cowed behavior after such recent wild behavior, remembered the low threats of the men to their wives, which the trembling women seemed to have no doubt would come true. I did not want to risk the barbaric sort of justice that could exist in a place ruled by its military and men. In less than a week, my anger had been completely replaced by an absolutely hopeless despair. I longed for death, for release. The world held absolutely nothing for me now. I would never go home, marriage was a sham, and I had nothing to do all day but write longing letters to my cousins, shout uselessly at the servants, and be paraded before strange men in states of dress that ever approached nudity, to have them gawk at the rare sight of an Elf woman's body, but would never touch it or violate it the way I wanted them to.

The day at last came when I would do it. I would kill myself, and I would give it as poetic an end as I could. I went into the cellar, where my husband worked his alchemical experiments, hunched over manuals beside beakers and tubes of glass for hours, mixing this and that. I had no doubt that his work was for the military. I knew that he worked on poisons, and on potions to make soldiers even more fearsome. I had no way of knowing which was which, so I told myself I would merely pick the most vile looking one and if I did not die I would choose another until I guessed correctly.

The cellar was a ghastly place now. Before it had been a damp, cool place that smelled strongly of the cedar barrels of liquor stored here, and the torchlight reflected off the endless rows of vintage wines in the walls was beautiful. Now it was a swirling chaos of glass, books, strange liquids, glowing stones, and puddles of wax that had once been candles. The air was rank, putrid, difficult to breathe, and I could see by the light of my torch on the ceiling that the whole space was being filled with a faintly green fog that clung to the rafters. I walked to the table arrayed with potions and looked down at it, reading the labels but finding them unintelligible, written in technical language I could never have understood with my lady's education. I turned the pages of the single book that lay on the table next to the rows of vials, only a few of which contained liquids. I recognized my husband's handwriting in this volume, and though the language was again incomprehensible to me I could see that they were notes, probably about the things arrayed on this table. One page caught my eye because the language seemed plain, rather than mired in symbols and diagrams.

- The female soldiers are capable, but not enough...there simply are not enough men in Al Zitti to keep back the hordes. Gen. R. wants some way to make the females stronger. Magnus was working on this.

- Found Magnus' notes. The elixir was nearly complete, but there are side effects. Attempting my own concoction.

- Didn't work. Perhaps the essence of Dvergr's blood was too much for her? Try remixing.

- Better. The side effects are still unacceptable. What could cause a growth like that? Must abandon this for now to make a batch of salve to aid the soldiers wounded in the most recent attack.

I was mystified and highly intrigued by these notes, but I looked away after reading this. What did it matter now, anyway? I had come here to die.

And so, my hands trembling, I reached out and picked up one of the vials that contained a ghastly looking green liquid. It had the consistency of oil and smelled, I can put it no other way, like death. This had to be it, the poison I had heard him talk about, strong enough to fell a full grown troll with one arrow dipped in his miraculous water of death. I was about to drink a hundred arrows worth. I licked my lips and briefly wondered how he would react when he found me dead on the floor in his lair. I imagined him stripping the clothes off of my limp body and sliding his member into my mouth and down my cold throat...I shook my head to throw off the image and with one burst of willpower, before I had a chance to reconsider, I put the vial to my lips and threw my head back. I cried out with my mouth closed, trying desperately not to spit the evil concoction out. It burned my mouth just as surely as if I had put my tongue to the torch, and as the liquid raced down my throat that heat spread to my whole body. I clutched my throat and coughed, stumbling backwards into a table of glass, knocking over empty beakers. The sound brought racing steps on the stairs behind me, and my husband appeared, his sword naked in his hand. I was shocked, for I thought he was not at home. His face changed from rage to bewilderment when he saw me, bent over double, coughing so violently I though I should soon see blood on the ground before me.

“Stupid girl, what have you done?” He cried, rushing over to me and snatching the vial from my hand. A faint green residue clung to the sides of the vial still, and he made some sound of surprise and rage as he looked at it, to the table where I had taken it from, and at the vial again. He wanted to say something more, to curse me again I could tell, but he raced to some other random table and began to blunder through its contents. Meanwhile, my whole body was on fire, pain like I had never experienced before coursed through my veins with every ragged, thunderous beat of my heart. The heat began to gather in my crotch, leaving the rest of me tingling. When feeling returned to my face I could feel that tears were pouring out of me in rivers, fire clung to my lips where I had gripped the vial, my arms trembled uncontrollably, my stomach and my breasts ached like I had been mercilessly beaten, but always the heat continued to intensify between my legs until I realized the deafening sound in my ears were my own ragged, desperate screams.

Just when I thought I would pass out from pain, my husband reappeared at my side and held a cup to my mouth. I was grateful, thinking it would be water to extinguish the flames inside of me, but as the liquid flowed in and I began to swallow it, I saw that it was orange and seemed to glow as if he held a light beneath the cup. I felt a brief spasm of terror to be drinking another potion from his tables, but then I realized that it must be the poison. He was killing me, putting me out of my misery, or punishing me for transgression. I didn't care. I drank deep, and the pain didn't seem to matter any more. Soon I would be dead, and my husband was good for something after all.

But I didn't die. I sunk to the floor and cried, feeling suddenly cold after the fire that had raged through me. My husband was shouting at me, cursing me, condemning me, but I could barely hear him. I fell into darkness, and had unsettling dreams.