Poll Driven Story: “The Tale of the Nemorvian Band”

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Kilne and Amitkoa still sit in the pool of the bathhouse, transfixed by the lion’s head statue. They stare at it, awaiting more travelers to enter the place and decide how to use their curvaceous bodies. They simply sit, mindless and waiting. They stare blankly ahead, even as heavy foot falls sound from outside.

It is a single figure that enters the bathhouse, but it is no man. The figure is a woman, a gigantic woman who has to lean down and practically crawl through the doorway to enter. Once through she rises back to her feet, standing over ten feet in height.

The giantess simply stands at first, looming so tall her head touches the ceiling of the bathhouse. She isn’t just tall, but thick with wide, her body nothing but muscle and plump curves. Her breasts are massive, but their true size seems to be constrained and suppressed by the strips of leather clothing the imposing figure wears.

Her face is unsettlingly inhuman due to its immense size, yet it is pretty and the giantess wears a happy smile on her face that is already working to clear some of the stupefying magic that hangs in the moist, steamy air of the bathhouse. Her hair is platinum and although long is pulled up into a tight bun on the back of her head.

Slung over her back is a huge stuffed pack and a massive mace nearly the size of a normal Human but the giantess does not move to draw the weapon. Instead she starts moving forward, smiling happily with her eyes focused on the two hypnotized Nemorvians.

“There you are,” she says, her voice feminine yet a deep rumble that echoes loudly through the bathhouse.

When she reaches the two women sitting naked in the water she leans down, reaching to grab each of them in one of her massive hands. She lifts them with ease as if their weight is inconsequential to her mighty muscles.

As she rises they dangle limply in her grasp, their naked bodies dripping water. She quickly turns, leaning down as she approaches the door and carrying the two women out into the open daylight. She sets them down in the road, both women standing on their feet but taking no other action.

“You just wait here,” she says to them in a manner that makes it clear she understands they won’t really hear her words.

She turns to duck back into the bathhouse and quickly returns with their clothing and weapons held in her huge hands. She drops it all at their feet then stands tall before them, crossing her arms and smiling down at them.

“Poor things. Who knows what has happened to them since they went into this vile place.” She glances back at the bathhouse, her pretty features twisting in hatred for a moment. “It would please me to tear the building down, but the Queen has commanded us to take no actions that would reveal that her forces are here.”

She turns back to the two Nemorvians. “Well, best be fixing your minds.” She reaches her arms out before her, her fingers spread and her palms pointing towards their faces. She mutters arcane words as her hands begin to glow with blue energy that quickly flows out from her hands into the women’s heads. Then, as the energy starts to fade, they both blink their eyes.

“Be at peace, little Nemorvians,” the giantess booms soothingly. “I am Zomos and I have been sent to retrieve you.”

Kilne and Amitkoa look confused and disoriented, but when they glance up at the giantess looming before them then back to the bathhouse behind them some of that confusion disappears.

“You saved us from that place,” Amitkoa says, staring up at the giantess.

“Yes,” Zomos replies, smiling kindly down at her. “The bathhouses on the road to Iphasea are not to be trusted. Some are as they seem but others are like this one. They hold a powerful enchantment designed to leave attractive women ensorcelled so that they can be more easily captured and brought to the brothels of the capital. They are a trap to enslave women and turn them into sexual toys.”

She stands tall, glaring fiercely at the building. “But such perversions shall soon be put to an end for the mighty Fey Queen Faeven is gathering an army of woman liberators in these very woods. Once gathered we shall free all the women held in sexual servitude in Iphasea City.” As Zomos mentions the Fey Queen her face lights up with joy, as if the woman’s name were a charm that chases away bad feelings and thoughts.

Zomos looks back down at the two Nemorvians. “And those captured by this foul place’s charms are left playthings for any male traveler passing by.” It is a statement but by the way she looks into each of their eyes they also feel it is a question as well.

The young Kilne quickly breaks eye contact and looks away, shame on her pretty young face. But the older Amitkoa glares angrily up at the giantess. “It has happened to us,” she says, her words making clear her anger is not for the giantess. “I can’t remember it clearly but… There were men. And they used us.”

Zomos kneels down before them so she is more at their level, reaching her huge arms out to hold them protectively. “No man shall use you in such a way again.”

Kilne seems soothed by giantess but Amitkoa pulls away from the massive woman’s embrace. “Someone else promised us the same thing,” she says, wrapping her arms around her naked breasts protectively. Then her eyes open wide and she turns back around. “Where is Novaoa?”

Zomos blinks. “It was only you two in there,” she says dumbly. Then, snarling in anger she stands, slamming the palm of one hand into her forehead. “Stupid! There were supposed to be three of you! I was so excited to have found you I forgot all about that. Do you remember what happened to her?”

“No,” they both say in unison. Then Amitkoa speaks. “She was with us when we entered. And… and I know she was there when the men arrived. But everything after that is a foggy blur…”

“Perhaps they took her,” Kilne says, looking distraught and on the verge of tears.

“Maybe,” Zomos says, looking down the road that leads to Iphasea City. “If the men did take her some of the Queen’s other agents may rescue her before they reach the city. But sometimes women who fall into this trap wander off on their own. She may be lost in these woods. They hold many threats yet the Queen’s Fey are patrolling them even as we speak. They look for you three and any other women in need. And they work to ensure our presence is not discovered.”

As she speaks both Nemorvians bend down and start dressing, both eager to have their naked bodies covered and once more have their weapons at their side. “Her gear is here with ours,” Amitkoa says, “but it looks like our horses are gone.”

“That could mean anything,” the giantess replies, looking about suddenly as if afraid they are being watched. “It is not good for me to stay here long in the open. And you two are being hunted,” she says, looking down at them with concern.

“By Minotaurs,” Amitkoa says with a nod. “We’d been running and hiding for a long time before coming here.”

“These Minotaurs are known to us,” Zomos says, looking even more concerned. “They have an evil reputation, especially when it comes to dealing with women. And they are not a band of just three or four, their numbers are far greater. To encounter them with just us three would not go well for us. That is why you must come with me, deep into the forest where the Queen gathers her forces. The camp is hidden and will take many days to get to. But once there we shall be safe and your friend may already be there when we arrive.”

“And what is expected of us once we arrive?” Amitkoa demands.

“Then you will join our army,” she declares, “and you shall help us free the women of Iphasea City.”

Kilne places a hand on Amitkoa’s shoulder. “This is exactly what Novaoa wanted for us! We were never going to be able to do it alone.”

“Yes,” Amitkoa says, fresh determination on her face. “Although she wanted only to free the other Nemorvians. This Queen, though, strives for more. And that feels right to me. Hopefully we shall meet Novaoa again, if not with this Fey Queen’s army then in Iphasea city. If that is where she is then we will save her the way she saved us.”

“If she is there we shall save her,” Zomos says eagerly. “And every other woman held in sexual slavery. But now we must be on the move, come, into the forest. I shall lead the way.”


* * *


Novaoa wakes slowly. At first she feels only pain. But slowly the pain in her body begins to lessen as if being leached away by some magic. Then, little by little, she becomes aware of the faint sound of a flute playing. The music is strange, light and drifting to her on the wind. Like a whisper the world has only for her. There is soft, powerful magic interwoven with the music and she quickly realizes that it is the music making her body less sore, that the tune is healing her.

For a moment the healing falters as the memories of her ordeal at the hands (and cocks) of the Trolls returns to her. She falters, despair threatening to overtake her. She starts to sink back into unconsciousness but then the music grows louder. The memories are chased away and the healing continues.

Eventually she is able to open her eyes. Sun shines down through the trees overhead. She blinks, adjusting her vision to the brightness. Then, seeing what looms above her, she gasps. Quickly, her body still hurting, she scrambles up and away from the two Trolls looming above her. But as she moves away she realizes something is wrong, they aren’t chasing her.

She blinks again, really looking at them this time. Clearly the two beasts had returned to fuck her once more. Their huge monstrous cocks stand erect and ready. Yet the beasts are unmoving as if frozen in time.

As she thinks this the music seems to become louder. She turns her head, trying to pinpoint what direction it is coming from. But it’s impossible, it comes from every direction at once. But it is growing louder, closer.

Novaoa begins to get to her feet, feeling more refreshed with every moment that passes. As she stands she looks at the Trolls. They are motionless except for the drool pooling and then dripping out of their open mouths. The music is keeping her fear and despair at bay yet as she looks at them she knows that if they had gotten her a second time her mind would not have survived the ordeal. She shivers, ashamed she had been defeated so easily.

Think not on such things, a musical feminine voice says in her mind. Come away from this place so you can be truly safe. Follow the music to me brave Nemorvian, for I have searched long for you.

She turns, instinctively knowing which way to go. She is also aware that she would not have been able to resist the request of the voice she heard in her mind if she had wanted to, the magical music enchanting and enthralling her. But this does not fill her with dread. This is not an evil force and to surrender to it is safe, she can feel that.

Novaoa moves through the woods for some time, only vaguely aware of her surroundings. With every step the music grows louder and the more clear the music becomes the more healed she feels, in body and mind. Soon she is fully healed but the music continues to work its magic on her, leaving her feeling more powerful and brave then she’s ever felt before.

The trees around her are thick, their tangled branches and leaves making a ceiling above her that only faint light seeped through. Then, as she moves ever forward to the music filling her with might and bravery, the canopy above parts. A shaft of bright, almost blinding light shines down on her, making her halt. She is staggered by the warmth of the light and feels completely safe and protected.

A figure suddenly appears, floating down from the branches of the trees above her. It appears in the form of a naked Elven woman, small and thin with tiny perfectly round breasts and a small plump ass. She has wild, curly bright red hair. Her features are dainty and pointed, her ears elongated and tipped as like an Elf’s. But there is an other worldly air to the small woman, something more magical than even a High Elf radiates. And that power seems to flow forth from the forest around them, swirling around her with golden spasms and sparks of visible magical energy.

As Novaoa stares up in awe she realizes the small Fey woman is not floating but rather that she is hovering. Translucent, shimmering wings on her back flutter quickly, keeping her airborne. They reminded Novaoa of a butterfly’s wings, only they are more narrowed and pointed.

The Fey’s pretty eyes are filled with benevolent mischievousness and her small, narrow lips smile around the flute held up to her mouth. The flute itself seems to be made of wood but looks not as if it was carved but rather as if it had grown naturally and been plucked like a fruit from some magical tree. Glowing golden energy flows down through the wood and when it reaches the end it sparks out before it, for a moment the energy taking the form of musical notes before turning to golden vapor that flows swirling around her.

Fluttering, the woman moves the flute form her mouth yet the music seems to continue, fainter but still filling the air around her. “Novaoa the Nemorvian,” she says, her voice a soft feminine song as musical as the sounds that had come from her pipe, “we have searched long for you.”

Her wings flutter furiously as she slowly descends to the forest floor. Then, as her naked feet touch the dirt below her, her wings shudder and pull behind her, curling up into themselves and then moving flat against her back, disappearing from sight as they do so.

“I am Meadow and I come to bring you the tidings of Queen Faeven. She knows of your past, of your time of sexual servitude and how that drives you to free the other members of your race. She also desires this, but not just the Nemorvians but ALL women who are sexually enslaved by men.”

Novaoa is awed by the Fey woman’s presence and drops down onto her knees, bowing before her. She looks up, feeling nothing but warmth as they Fey smiles kindly down at her. “You have saved me,” Novaoa declares. “I owe you my life.”

“Then rise, warrior Novaoa, and come join my Queen’s war of liberation.”

“Yes,” Novaoa says, rising quickly to her feet. “I shall! I MUST. Please, just show me the way.”

“I shall,” Meadow replies, stepping closer. Novaoa notices that her feet only barely touched the earth bellow her and that small greenery sprouts from under her feet as she lifts them back up. “You are strong and the fire for revenge burns bright in your heart. Yet we cannot be too careful. Alaria is a world full of threats, many that would like nothing more than to see Queen Faeven brought low to suffer the same fate you once did. She must be careful and trust must be earned.”

“I don’t understand,” Novaoa says, furrowing her brow.

“I will take you to my Queen and at her feet you will be given a test that will make it so you can speak truth and only truth. In the past my Queen’s foes have sent agents to us disguised as allies. Till you can be tested you must be blindfolded, lest any forces working through you see where our army camps. And you shall be given no weapon till you are proved a true ally.”

“Alright,” Novaoa replies. “But these woods are dangerous. Will you protect me on our journey?”

The Fey woman laughs, the sound more music than voice. “Oh yes. Although much darkness flows through these woods the ancient power we Fey draw our strength from is very powerful here. With me by your side you need not fear anything.”

Then she steps closer, moving a hand towards Novaoa’s face and twirling it about as she works the magical forces swirling about her. A blindfold made of interwoven green leaves appears and wraps around Novaoa’s head, blinding her from the world around her.

Meadow places a hand on her shoulder, calming warmth radiating from it. “I will lead you. And before long you shall meet the Queen and be tested. The journey may take days, maybe even longer since you will be blind folded,” she tells Novaoa, “but my presence will alter your sense of time and it will seem but a few brief moments.” Then, with the Fey leading the way, they begin to march through the woods with purpose.


* * *


Jennenes Moonlight strides through the busy streets of Iphasea City, his royal guard surrounding him. Looking around he is proud of how large the city has grown during his life, although he begrudgingly admits to himself that is mostly his father’s doing. His “kingdom” had been little more than a few newly settled downs when his father had arrived in the region. But through brute force of willpower (and much magical help) he had gathered the towns together under his banner and grew Iphasea into a bustling metropolis.

Geographically Iphasea is a small kingdom. Aside from the capital there are only a handful of other towns of note under its banner and one could ride from one border to the other over a day or two. To the north is the Shadow Mountains, full of Dwarven cities built into and under the mountains. The eastern border is surrounded by a vast forest that no monarch yet lays claim to, although Jennenes has done much to prove his dominion over it. The expansion of territory is not so much about the forest itself but the thriving cities on the other side whose trade does much to enrich him.

Looking about he sees that the population of his capital city is a diverse mix of races. Many who come here that know an Elf is king are surprised to find Elves a small minority of the population. Jennenes’ father was not from here, he had simply come and claimed the land as his own.

Iphasea has a diverse population yet one race is far more numerous than any other: Humans. Their lives are so much shorter than most other races in Alaria yet it seems they are destined to populate their world with far greater numbers than any other.

Jennenes doesn’t mind. The Humans are easily manipulated or outright intimidated into doing what he wants them too. And their ambition is blind in a manner that often leaves them puppets of greater, more long-lived beings ambitions.

There is also the fact that their short lives hold a boon Jennenes’ father had discovered early on, one Jennenes plans to continue to take advantage of. He is a full blooded High Elf and as such his life will last entire generations of Humans. This will allow him to rule over them with an iron fist, time seemingly on his side while their short lives fluttered by him with almost no notice.

But it isn’t Humans that has brought him out into the city this day. It is Dwarves. Specifically the first shipment of Dwarven women from King Teddem that are to be sent to serve as sex slaves in the city’s brothels.

As Jennenes and his retinue of guards and attendants turn a corner and approach the open court of the slave market the banners of the new Dwarven king fly high above the crowd. He smiles seeing the simple yet elegant beauty of the new kingdom’s flag: a green background with the angry runic face of the Teddem clan’s ancestors on it. It had been their clan’s crest before the crowning of the new king, the only addition being a golden crown atop the scowling face’s head.

King Teddem’s mountain kingdom is geographically smaller even then his own, yet Jennenes knows the Dwarven cities are pressed close together leaving the two neighboring kingdom’s populations about equal. Their economies have always been heavily dependent on each other and fostering a close alliance with the new king an obvious step. Together they give each other’s royal line credibility. Before Jennenes had been a king because he said he was. But now they were two kings who said each was king of their land, they claim to their own lands supported by a foreign monarch.

Yes, it is a very beneficial alliance. Yet a thought tugs at Jennenes’ mind. They are both such small kingdoms, but if they were joined under one banner, one king, why that could be the beginning of a true empire!

Of course those are plans for later down the road. He’d need to wait and see if King Teddem is able to hold onto his crown and then see if the old Dwarf is happy with his small mountain kingdom or if he too desires expansion.

These thoughts are temporarily chased from his head as the murmuring crowd around the large carriages that are flying the new kingdom’s flag parts as his guards push past them.

The lead carriage is sturdy, imposing creation covered in thick metal armor with Dwarven guards sitting on top. Even the hearty ponies that pull it wear armored barding. The sight make Jennenes wonder if the Dwarven kingdom has as much problem with bandits as he has or if this carriage is simply meant to be a display of military might. There are certainly enough heavily armed troops manning it to cause trouble should they wish, something his royal guard quickly notices.

The armored carriage is quickly forgotten once Jennenes notices the large cart it has been pulled into the city. The cart carries a huge metal cage, the sturdy Dwarven bars keeping a horde of barely dressed Dwarven women imprisoned within. “My first shipment,” he says happily, pressing past his guards to take a closer look.

Inside the cage he can see that the women held there are filth covered and terrified. Some still wear fine Dwarven dresses, only they have clearly been ripped and torn off their bodies leaving only scraps of colorful fabric behind. Others seem to only have filthy rags tied around their plump, curvaceous bodies.

He knows the journey from the Shadow Mountains is a short one and that the King in the mountain had only claimed his crown in the last week. Yet these women all looked so scared and broken it was as if they had been held prisoner for months.

“Perhaps I’ve underestimated King Teddem’s cruelty,” he says, slowly walking around the cart and looking in at the women. They each cower and pull back from him as he passes. They must know who he is and why they have been brought here. And knowing that makes their cowering even more delicious to Jennenes.

“A good haul,” he mutters to himself. All of them are plump, wide women. He knows to many Human’s a Dwarf woman looks fat. But even with that prejudice there will be many into such bodies and even more willing to overlook their thick, wide builds if it means taking a turn with a woman with such a big fat ass or such huge, heavy breasts.

“Oh yes, you all will make me very rich,” he says, reaching in and grabbing once of the women’s plump breasts. As he squeezes her flesh she snarls and pulls back, trying to kick his hand.

Two of his armored guards step forward to punish the woman but before they can a sinister looking Dwarf with a dirty beard is beside him, jamming some kind of thick shaft in at the woman. Jennenes sees that it is tipped with a glowing, golden metal and as it slams into the slave woman magical energy sparks, making her howl in pain then fall to the floor of the cart as she curls up into a fetal position and begins to sob. The other women try to pull back away from her, obviously afraid they will be jabbed with the rod of pain next.

“They’ll need some breaking in, Your Majesty,” the Dwarf with the rod says. “King Teddem was confident you and those that run your brothels will know how. My king also wanted to show you his good will and most of these sluts have been branded with a rune that will make it so they do as they are told, although even with this most will need training to perform well in u, ‘unique’ tasks required of one working in a brothel. These were mostly noble women a couple of weeks ago and they were not accustomed to following the orders of others nor doing indecent things, especially with members of other races.”

Jennenes nods and mutters his thanks, telling the Dwarf to relay the sentiment to his king. But it is clear he has grown distracted, staring intently at one specific Dwarven woman. He points to her and she quickly averts her face, as if trying to hide it now that she has seen the king noticing her.

“Tell me what you know about that one,” he demands.

The gruff Dwarf comes to stand closer to him, looking where the Elven king is pointing. Then a wide smile spreads across his face, his thick dirty beard shifting under the drastic change in expression. “Ah, noticed her did you? My king wondered if you would. He made sure the runic power that was branded onto her flesh was strong, strong enough to break her will. Can’t see it now since she’s cowering like a mountain rat, but it’s on her lower back, just above the crack on her ass. My king had thought about branding her mighty tits with it but thought it might decrease her worth.”

Jennenes continues to stare with burning intensity at the woman as she curls up and tries to crawl deeper into the mass of filth covered Dwarven women away from the king. As she does so her massive breasts drag on the cart’s dirty floor, causing her to stop and grab her arms under them protectively. Her breasts are by far the largest of all the women in cart and would have eventually made her stand out, but it was the woman’s face that had made Jennenes notice her first. It is a familiar face.

“How did she come to be in the cart? Why has she been sent to me in this manner?” he demands. The woman looks up at him, fear and despair on her face. The expression makes a smile tug at his lips. It is exciting to see such a different expression on the woman’s face as he remembers how the last time he saw her it seemed only capable of the one single expression.

“The newly forged crown had barely been placed on King Teddem’s head for a day before it was revealed this fowl creature was plotting to kill and replace him. Her cowardly followers tried to take the king in his bed chambers as he slept. Armed only with a candelabra from his nightstand King Teddem was able to fend off the first attackers, disarming one. As soon as a weapon was in his hands he slayed the men there to kill him. But he didn’t kill her.

“Instead he called all the important clan members to court as he sat upon his throne. He had his guards rip her clothing from her as he sat and passed judgment on her. He swore oaths against her even though she was of his own flesh. The book of grudges was brought before the king and her name was written as a curse, all her standing as a member of both the new royal family and as a member of the Teddem clan removed. Outside the book of grudges her name was never to be uttered again in his kingdom. From that day forth she would be nameless, perhaps the greatest humiliation a Dwarf can face.

“But the king was far from done with her, his wrath so mighty. As she was branded with the slave rune before the full court the king declared her ingenious plotting would be rewarded. For a moment there had been hope on her face. The king revealed it was her mind that had concocted the plan to break the clans to his will by sending their women to be slaves in your brothels. All eyes turned to her, hatred burning in most of them as many in the room had relatives or wives waiting to be brought to you. He then declared since it was her genius plot that had done much to win him the throne it would only be right if she was sent to meet the same fate, to experience just how truly effective a ploy it was.”

The Dwarf looks in at the cowering woman holding her breasts protectively. “The former Lady Teddem no longer holds any claim to the Teddem clan name nor the royal lineage. She has been made nameless, a nearly worthless sack of flesh that’s only real value are her huge tits. They are a gift to you from my king, to do with as you please.”

“Tell King Teddem,” Jennenes says slowly, grinning happily at the terrified Dwarven woman, “that this pleases me greatly. Any favor he requires he need only ask.”

He turns then, snapping his fingers and calling forth one of the attendant’s that has accompanied him. “Auction off all the Dwarven women to the highest bidders. Begin at once, it is clear the brothel owners knew of their forthcoming arrival and that they are already gathered here in anticipation. The coin earned from their sale is to be split evenly between my coffers and King Teddem.”

Jennenes turns to the Dwarf slave driver. “Wait till the auction is over, you’ll have chests of coin to place in that armored carriage of yours and bring back to your king.” The Dwarf bows and backs away.

“Sell them all,” Jennenes repeats, “except THAT one.” He points to the former Lady Teddem and stares directly into her fear filled eyes. “It is to be brought to the palace and cleaned up. After that take it to my chambers, but keep it naked. It will be my personal fuck-toy.” He takes a step closer to the cart, staring at her hungrily. “It will be my new fuck-toy till I grow bored of it or, more likely, till it breaks.”


* * *


“Are we getting close?” Kilne asks as she moves a log closer to the fire and sits on it to warm herself.

Night has fallen and with it comes not just darkness, but cold as well. The two Nemorvians had regained their clothing and weapons but the rest of their gear had been on their horses. Thankfully the giantess wore a pack on her back with more gear than a pack mule would have been able to carry, so the three women had warm, soft bedding to spare.

“No,” Zomos replies, squatting down by the fire. “We’ve at least one more night ahead of us. But we are making good time.”

Amitkoa pokes at the fire with a stick, frowning. “Doesn’t feel like,” she grumbles. “Feels almost like we have been frequently doubling back and going in circles. Like you don’t want us to know where we are going.”

Zomos blushes and looks embarrassed. “Well… you might be onto something. I trust you two but we can’t be too careful. If you turn out to be infiltrators planted by the Queen’s enemies we wouldn’t want you escaping and leading the rest of them to the camp. There is also the chance we could be being followed. Traveling this way will make that harder.”

“Perhaps your mighty Queen is just paranoid,” Amitkoa says sulkily.

“No,” Zomos replies firmly. “She is not. I’ve served her for many years now. She fights against men, and some women, possessed by a strange force that only in this age has begun to corrupt Alaria. In fact that is what she calls it. ‘The Corruption’, as if it is something that has a will of its own. She says even the gods are not to be trusted as many have fallen under this perverse power’s influence.”

Kilne looks up at her with wide eyes. “You know this to be true?”

“Yes,” Zomos says, averting her eyes.

“How do you know this thing,” Amitkoa demands.

Zomos stares at the ground. “I do not like to talk about it. Speaking of the thing brings it to the surface. If I let it enter my… my…” her voice trails off, her expression falling and going blank. For an awkwardly long time she sits, staring at the ground. Then, slowly, her large eyes wander up and she starts to stare into the fire.

Both of the Nemorvians shift uncomfortably. The powerful giantess looks as if she’s suddenly been entranced. The way she stares at the fire reminds them too much of the way they had stared at the lion’s head in the bathhouse. With this on their mind they both nervously avert their eyes from the flickering flames.

“Zomos,” Kilne says, starting to stand up to approach her.

“No,” Amitkoa hisses, throwing her arm out to hold her friend back. “Something is not right here.” Her other hand falls to her hip where her sword rests in its scabbard. She grabs hold of the handle, pulling it out slightly.

Zomos shifts, looking up at them. They both flinch when they see her face. The expression she wears is one of utter stupidity and her eyes look as if all the intelligence behind them has gone. The giantess opens her mouth to speak but no words come out. Instead she simple begins to moan stupidly. “Duuuuuuuuh,” she says, drool starting to run out one side of her large mouth.

“Zomos, what is wrong with you?” Kilne demands, pulling free of Amitkoa’s arm and getting all the way up on her feet.

As she approaches the giantess looks at her, furrowing her brow as if she is struggling to understand what she sees. “P-r-e-t-t-y c-o-w,” she says slowly, sounding like a child who has only recently learned to speak. “Big cow tits,” she says, pointing to Kilne’s breasts. Then she smiles and starts laughing, sounding like a woman born an idiot.

Kilne looks back at Amitkoa, concern on her face. “What has happened to her?”

“Zomos get dumb,” the giantess booms. Then she slowly rises to her feet. “Get dumb cause of curse. Get dumb and pussy get hot. Needy pussy now.” She grabs her pants and pulls them down, stepping out of them as they fall to around her ankles.

She then falls back onto her ass. “Pussy,” she booms stupidly as she spreads her massive legs. Her thick meaty thighs part to reveal the largest cunt either of the Nemorvians has ever seen, larger than they had even imagined possible. They also see that the giantess is hairless like an Elf, something that makes her pink pussy look even larger.

“Pussy tingle,” Zomos booms louder, starting to sloppily finger herself. It is like her motor control has been left diminished to the point of uselessness and her brain sapped of nearly all intelligence. She jabs her fingers at her cunt as if trying to masturbate but only pokes herself making her blurt out loud groans of pain.

“Pussy tingle. Need cummy-cum!” She turns to the two Nemorvians, her big intelligence-less eyes sparkling as she looks at them. “Pretty big tit cow women come eat Zomos pussy,” she says, spreading her legs wider open. “Use hands, mouths, give her cummy-cum!”

She then rips her top open, her mammoth breasts spilling out into view. The Nemorvians have breasts that, if on a Human, would have seemed unnatural and comically sized. But this giantess’ breasts, they are titanic in size and it is now apparent that her clothing has been tightly squeezing and suppressing their truly staggering size. And they aren’t just large but wide and sag heavily down her front so they rest in her lap as she sits poking at cunt.

Zomos has started masturbating although she does so with so little skill there is no chance the huge woman will ever be able to get off on her own. She looks at them with stupid, pleading eyes. “Help Zomos. Too dumb to make cummy-cum! Need pretty cow girls’ help. Need cummy-cum for brain work right.”

“What do we do,” Kilne asks, alarmed and confused.

Amitkoa is by her side, her hand no longer on her sword. “I think this is what she didn’t want to talk about. She must be suffering from some kind of bimbofication curse!” she grabs Kilne’s arm and turns her friend towards her. “Gods! WE did this to her by making her talk about it. We have to help her!”

“How,” Kilne asks, despondent as she looks at the giantess drooling on her own tits as she pokes at her giant hairless pussy.

“She told us. She has to cum. WE have to make her cum.”

Both Nemorvians take a deep breath then begin to undress. This is something they know how to do and do well. Yes, most of the customers they served in the brothels were men, but they had served many women as well. And often what a man wanted was to watch two or more women together.

They peel their clothing off then move towards the giantess, cautiously at first. She looks down at them, grinning dumbly. “Cows come make Zomos cummy-cum?”

“Yes,” Amitkoa says soothingly.

Both Nemorvians move up to her, firmly pressing her onto her back. They are thankful that the giantess follows their lead, for they doubt even together they would have had the strength to push her down had she resisted.

Zomos lies back onto the ground with a heavy thud, her mammoth breasts bouncing and jiggling as her body impacts the ground. Even as they shift to flown down the sides of her torso the majority of their mass remains on top of her chest, two giant fleshy mountains of tit meat. Amitkoa climbs the giantess’ belly and wraps her body around one of the massive breasts, taking the huge nipple into her mouth and starting to suck on it.

Meanwhile Kilne crawls between her legs and starts working the woman’s giant pussy. She places her open mouth around her large, swollen clit and starts sucking on it while she uses her hands to rub at her huge, moist labia. As she grows more comfortable she ends up fisting the huge cunt hole that is leaking a steady flow of pungent giant pussy juice. She ends up fisting the giantess, her arm easily sliding into the woman up to the elbow.

Zomos lies on the ground thrashing about under the two smaller women, moaning in pleasure. She grabs Amitkoa and pulls her up off her breast so that she can kiss her. Perhaps if she had retained her intelligence and motor skills kissing would have been possible between their drastically different sized mouths. But because she is so dumb all the giantess does is open her maw and drag her large wet tongue across the Nemorvians face.

Ten minutes later the three women are still busy, their naked bodies thrashing and interwoven in the slowly dying light of the fire. The air is cold around them but the combined warmth of their naked bodies is enough to keep them heated. It is clear that Zomos is a woman who does not cum easily but as the minutes pass the two Nemorvians are learning what it is her body craves as well as adjusting to the giantess’ size. They are confident they can make her cum, they just know it could take some time.

They are still working her body as the flames of the fire die to become faintly glowing embers. But the small clearing they are in allows the moon light in the night sky to illuminate the world around them and what their eyes cannot find their hands can.

Zomos had saved them and now they will save her, even if it takes all night…


* * *


“The Dwarf that brought you to my city explained that you are no longer Lady Teddem. You have been cast out of your clan, made nameless,” Jennenes says to the naked Dwarf kneeling before him. He too is naked aside from his crown, yet he moves confidently as if wrapped in magical armor and the glowing tattoos that cover much of his body suggest such a thing DOES protect him.

Her body is hunched over, her huge breasts pressing into her bent knees as she bows before the king of Iphasea. On her lower back, just above the crack of her ass, a Dwarven rune is burnt into her skin and it glows dimly. He’d seen that when he gave the woman a command the rune burnt more intensely, working its Dwarven magic on her and ensuring she followed the order.

“So what shall I call you?” he asks. Silence is her only answer, that and a soft, almost imperceptible sob. “When you last were before me you proclaimed loudly that your huge tits were the marvel of the Shadow Mountains. But the Shadow Mountains have cast you out, your name never to be uttered again except as a curse. You are mine now, my property. My toy. And as such I suppose I have the right to rename you.”

He pauses, staring down at her with lustful fire in his eyes. “For now you shall be ‘Fuck-Meat’ and nothing more. But perhaps you will prove you can serve as more than a night’s fleshy diversion. Often when I take a comely woman slave as a toy she fails to last more than a night. But you are a Dwarf and everyone says Dwarves are made of stronger stuff than most any other race.”

Slowly the King walks around the naked Dwarf. He holds a riding crop in one hand and is slapping it into his palm in a slow, steady, repetitive pattern. “What say you, Fuck-Meat, does your temporary name please you?”

Suddenly the woman gets up on her knees, turning to face Jennenes with rage and hatred in her eyes. “It does NOT,” she snarls, punctuating the reply with a hate filled, “Your Majesty.”

“Defiance. Disrespect. I had hoped for no less,” he says calmly as he steps behind her. He then places a bare foot on her back and forces her back over, leaving her large wide fat ass sticking up at him. He takes his foot away then strikes her ass with the riding crop, the fleshy slap echoing through his bed chamber along with the woman’s howl of pain.

“Disobedience shall be rewarded with punishment,” he says coolly, walking around to her front and reaching down with the riding crop. He places it under her face and lifts it up, forcing her to look at him.

There are tears in her eyes but the defiance still burns brightly. “Why do you not just order me to answer you?” she asks. “The rune on my backside will force me to comply.”

He smiles and cocks his head to the side. “Where is the fun in that? If you are to be controlled I prefer it to be with my own magic, although I do enjoy that you have been made a slave with your own people’s magic. It is a delicious, perverse irony I very much appreciate.”

“I do have a command for you, though,” he says, pausing for a moment before continuing. “The Dwarf that delivered you said the rune was not the only magical punishment your father placed on you, but he did not elaborate. What else did King Teddem do to punish his traitorous daughter?”

She grinds her teeth and glares up at him, obviously not wanting to answer. But a moment later the rune on her backside begins to glow. She moans and falls forward as if having been struck on the back of the head.

Bent over, her face pressed into the ground, she answers him. “He had the runic priests enchant my breasts,” she says, her voice muffled as she speaks into the floor. “I had promised the men who were to kill my father that they would be able to use my breasts the way you I had allowed you to. To punish me for using my breasts to incite rebellion my father had the runic priests put a powerful curse on them. Part of the curse makes it so should I ever have any children they will all be female, as will any of their children on and on down my bloodline for as long as it lasts. Any children I have will have the same curse I have.”

“My breasts…” she falters, sobbing slightly before continuing. “My breasts sensitivity has been increased by magnitudes that would make Ynara, goddess of fat tits blush. Even now as I am bent over with my breasts pressed between my chest and knees I feel pleasure that makes my pussy leak. No one has yet to really grope me but I fear it would force my body to climax instantly. And the pleasure from my cursed breasts… It is pleasure, yes, but it feels forced and comes with a tinge of pain.”

She then starts sobbing, her whole body quaking. “I am ruined, utterly brought low.”

“Indeed,” Jennenes says, grinning madly. “I’m going to have so much fun with you. But first, I wish to test something. Up on your feet, Fuck-Meat. Then bend over so your back is flat and your huge cursed tits hang down below you.”

Still sobbing the woman now known as Fuck-Meat gets to her feet. She places her hands behind her back then bends over till her body is at a nearly perfect ninety-degree angle, leaving her huge tits dangling below her. They sway slightly as she struggles to stop crying. “Now what,” she asks, staring at the floor. It is clear that being made to reveal the curse has done much to smash her defiance, at least for the time.

“Now,” Jennenes says, placing the tip of his riding crop on the back of her head, “I want you to start swinging them from side to side. I want them swinging back and forth like the pendulum of one of those curious windup timepieces your people make.”

She starts to move her body, almost imperceptibly so. But the results are immediate and pronounced. Her huge, heavy, dangling breasts begin to sway from side to side. Each time they swing back from one side they swing further in the other direction, then back further the other way.

“Now I want you to watch them,” he tells her firmly. “Watch them swing from side to side. Your eyes are to follow them and you are to think of nothing but your tits and how you are my property and how you will do everything I tell you without argument. Stare at your swinging breasts, feel the magical flowing through them. For the curse upon them was created with powerful magic that can be used not just to fuel that curse. Let it seep up from your breasts and into that pathetic mind of yours, washing away all independent thought. Watch your tits swing and become a servant to them, and through them me.”

He steps back, smiling as he watches the Dwarf swing her massive breasts from side to side. Jennenes can see her head moving from side to side as she watches them. He stares intensely at her body, noticing the slight change in her muscles. They were clenched tight but slowly they begin to relax.

Inhaling deeply he can smell and taste the powerful magic emanating from the curse on her breasts. He reaches out to that energy, bends its power to his well to stupefy her mind. His smile grows as he feels the Dwarf being hypnotized by her own cursed breasts.

“Now stand up straight,” he commands as he returns to stand behind her. The rune above her ass glows as she follows the order but not as brightly as in the past. Its magic doesn’t need to work as strong to control her actions now that her mind has been enchanted a second time to follow his orders. And knowing she is being magically enthralled to him in two ways brings him great pleasure that makes his cock begin to swell.

“Now to my bed. Climb up on it and lay on your back, with your ass on the very edge. Good! Now spread your stubby legs open and grab them, pulling them back so your formally royal cunt is exposed to me.”

He stands, staring at her. She is on her back, her huge breasts sagging heavily down the side of her body and looking impressively, cock hardeningly large. Her thick thighs are spread apart, her legs pulled back. This leaves her pussy pointing up in the air. It’s covered in thick hair, although the pink fleshy folds of her inner labia stick free from the mass of wiry pubic hair.

There are times when the fur that covers some of the other race’s cunts pleases him, but this is not one of those times. She had denied him her pussy during their last meeting and he had thought he’d wish to make ample use of it given the chance. But seeing it he realizes he has no interest in it.

“What a pathetic, smelly, hairy cunt you have. Had you been a loyal daughter it might have been used by a man of great standing to bring royal babies into the world. Your father is old and might not have sired any children after you. Had you just been patient that crown would have been yours and the mewling brats you pushed out of your body destined to become kings or queens in time. Instead you lacked the patience a true monarch requires and now that cunt is useless. At the very least I know I’ll never use the thing. Your tits are what interest me. And your mouth-pussy. And MAYBE one day your asshole. But your cunt? No, it shall never know the pleasure of my royal cock inside of it.”

She lay with her head turned to the side, her expression blank. It seems as if she doesn’t hear his words but he knows better. The REAL her is still in there, fully conscious and hearing every word he says. He has no doubt the former noble, who had probably never had a harsh word said to her because of her standing, would be in tears where her mind not so addled and thoroughly controlled at the moment.

“But those tits, they truly are a marvel,” he says, dropping the crop to the floor and climbing up onto the bed. He presses her legs down and pushes her hands aside, climbing on top of her and sitting on her plump body so that his impressively sized cock rests between her huge breasts. She simply lies motionless under him, waiting for him to use her in any way he pleases. In that moment she doesn’t even seem a person, she seems more a living sex toy, a thought that brings him great pleasure.

With a roll of his hand through the air magical energy gathers in his palm and turns to a thick slathering of lube as he uses that hand to grab his hard cock. He also slathers much of it between her breasts until most of the slippery stuff is gone from his hand. Then, moving up into her breasts, he grabs her tits and presses them up and around his cock.

He moans in delight as they envelope his royal manhood, utterly hiding it from sight. As he presses them in further around his hard shaft she shudders under him, moaning. It’s a sound that says she is experiencing great and sudden pleasure but discomfort as well. He presses her tits in harder and she sucks in, gasping in pleasure then moaning in pain.

“My, they really have been cursed,” he says happily as he starts to slowly move his hips. As his cock slides smoothly up through her pressed breast-flesh she moans louder, closing her eyes tight and thrashing her head from side to side.

“The pleasure!” she moans as he picks up speed, fucking her tits a little faster. “It’s so intense! I’m— I’m already cumming!

He feels her back arch slightly under his weight and feels her grinding her thick thighs together behind him. It only fills him with more cruel-spirited lust and soon he is pounding her tits hard and fast.

“By all the gods,” she screams, convulsing under him. “Cumming so hard!” She gasps, wincing in extreme discomfort. “Each orgasm starting before the last starts to fade. Not a moment of rest from my body! My tits are already sore, my pussy already aches!”

His only response is to lean forward and press his body into her huge tits, pounding them more vigorously.

“Cumming! Cumming so hard! The pain! The pleasure! So much! I can’t endure it! I can’t… passing out…”

“Oh no you don’t,” he says, letting go of one of her tits and holding his hand up. It instantly starts to steam with glowing red energy. He presses the hand down on her face and she gasps, inhaling the red magic. Her eyes shoot open as her body is forced back into total wakefulness. “You will have no rest till I am done with you,” he declares, removing his hand from her face.

She looks up at him, the fear and despair in her eyes so extreme it pushes him over the edge and he cums in her tits. For just a moment there is relief on her face then she realizes he hasn’t slowed and is still pounding her tits, only now his cock is lubricated with a thick load of cum.

“Scream for me, Fuck-Meat,” he growls as he savagely pounds her tits. “Scream and maybe this won’t last all night.”

She screams. She screams loud and long as orgasm after orgasm is titfucked from her body. She screams till she is horse and no sound leaves her lips. She cums till she is drenched in sweat and so sore she can barely move, a wet patch on the bed from the ample juices forced from her cunt after every orgasm. Only then, only after Jennenes has cum in her tits multiple times, does he pull away.

His cock is a cum covered mess but it’s nothing compared to the mess in his Fuck-Meat’s tits. He stands at the end of the bed admiring his handy work. She is limp, breathing heavily. If not for the enchantment keeping her awake she’d have long ago passed out. Even with its magic flowing through her the woman’s eyes are barely open. She is exhausted near to the breaking point, just where Jennenes wants her.

“Up, Fuck-Meat,” he commands. “Off the bed and down onto your knees before your one true King.”

Slowly, shaking from weakness, she rises. Her huge cum covered breasts shift as she sits up, their shifting weight almost sending her tumbling to the side. But her master has given her a command and two powerful magics work through her mind and body ensuring she follows the order.

She rises from the bed and is on her feet for only a brief moment. Then she collapses down onto her knees, her huge cum covered tits bouncing heavily as she lands, their shifting weight almost enough to knock her all the way over.

Jennenes steps close to her, grabbing her hair and jerking her head back. Then he grabs his cum covered cock and slaps it down onto her face. It looks long and fat on her stout Dwarven features, the shaft easily longer then the height of her face. He lets go of his cock and starts moving his hips slightly from side to side, dragging it slowly across her face and over her nose then back the other direction.

“Smell it,” he tells her. “Open your stupid mouth-cunt and lick it. Taste my cum. Taste my cock. This is your god now, your meaning for existence. You and your tits will serve my cock and give it any pleasure it wants from you.”

She licks at his shaft and inhales the scent of it. He presses his cock against her face, smashing her nose up so that she snorts as she inhales the odor of his cum covered cock.

Then, without warning, he pulls back, grabbing his cock and pressing it down into her mouth. As soon as it slips between her lips her grabs the back of her head and thrusts hard into her. He angles her head so that his cock can slam down into her throat. She chokes and gags while weakly pressing against his legs to try and pull free. But she is too weak and he too strong. He holds her there, making her choke on his cock.

“This is the natural and most beautiful relationship a woman can have with a cock,” he purrs, enjoying the feel of all the thick saliva she’s half vomiting up running down his shaft and dripping coolly from his balls.

After a long time he pulls his cock out of her mouth. He keeps hold of her hair so that she can’t double over. A normal woman would have still been choking, gasping for air as her sore throat revolts from such abuse. But she does not. Her body is limp and only remains upright because he holds her hair.

Jennenes moves back in so his cock is once more places on her face, his balls by her chin and his shafting running up the length of her face beside her nose and resting on her forehead. His dick glows slightly, faint sparking red magical energy that seems to be emanating out and flowing up into her eyes. After a few seconds they begin to glow red too as the magic gathers inside of her.

“Here you are, Fuck-Meat. Blank. Mindless. Everything that makes you ‘you’ beaten down and ground to nothing by my cock. You are completely cocknotized. A blank slate to be made into what I want. But what shall I make you into?”

The question hangs in the air as her face remains expressionless, her eyes glowing as energy flows from the Elven king’s cock into her mind. He has to decide, not this moment but before he pulls away from her and breaks the magical bond between his cock and her mind.

“But what shall I make you into?” he repeats, pondering the question.


* * *


Zomos leads the way through the forest, at times having to press trees aside to fit between them, Kilne and Amitkoa following close behind her.

“Are we going to talk about what happened last night?” Amitkoa asks.

CAN we do that without making you fall into that spell again?” Kilne quickly asks.

The giantess takes a slow, deep breath. “Yes, we can talk openly now. Thanks to you two.” She doesn’t look back and they can sense the shame the huge woman feels at what happened. “Orgasms keep the curse at bay. It was reckless of me to go so long without. But… I’ve been alone in the woods for days, searching for you. And pleasuring myself only does so much.”

Kilne dashes forward to keep pace beside the giantess, looking up at her. “Are you saying if we help you get off regularly your… uh, ‘affliction’ will be held at bay?”

Blushing slightly the Zomos looks down at her. “Yes. Tonight when we make camp I’d appreciate…” she trailed off, looking away again.

“You saved us,” Amitkoa replies, “you need only ask.”

“The thing is,” the giantess says, “when I am not bimbofied I like to watch rather than take part, at least when you little folk are involved.”

Kilne and Amitkoa look at each other and smile. “Everyone has a kink,” the owner of the last brothel they had both worked at was fond of saying. “Discover it and you will have a servant, not a client.”

“We know how to put on a show,” Amitkoa says. There is a hint of pride in the statement, but also shame and regret.

“I am sure you do. But I have very, uh, specific tastes.” Again she looks away from the two women doing their best to keep pace beside her huge strides.

“Tell us,” Kilne says soothingly.

“I have a device,” Zomos says, blushing once more. “It’s a kind of faux cock. It’s made so it can strap onto one of you small women.”

“We know how to use that kind of item,” Amitkoa says, memories of her former life flooding back into her mind. “And we have experience putting on a show together using one.”

“Then tonight when we make camp you will… help me keep my ailment at bay? I can watch you two as you use the item, one of you pretending to be a man. You understand I will need to pleasure myself to the sight?”

“Oh yes, we understand,” Amitkoa says. “It will be our pleasure to help you get off that way.”

Zomos breaths a deep sigh of relief. “Come, let us continue on our way. If we make good time before making camp tonight we will be to the Queen’s hidden camp not long after starting out tomorrow. And I will not have to fear that my curse will overcome me.”

“No,” Amitkoa says, “you will not.”

She looks over at Kilne and sees that the younger Nemorvian is glowing with pride that they will be able to help their savior. But Amitkoa is worried. The curse on Zomos is powerful, debilitating, and perversely humiliating. If there really is some powerful dark force that this Fey Queen works against surely this is only a hint at what it is capable of. The thought makes her shiver. Perhaps joining these women is not the smartest move, perhaps doing so will leave them in even greater danger then they were before.

“If only Novaoa was here,” she mumbles. “She’d know what to do.” Hopefully, though, they will arrive at the Queen’s hidden camp and find her already there.


* * *


Since her eyes are covered Novaoa has to imagine the world around her. Everywhere there is happy voices and feminine laughter filling the air. Much of it is the lyrical, magical laughter of Fey women but interspersed through it all is far more normal laughter. Humans and Elves and Dwarves, at least so she imagines so. It is hard to tell from just the sound of laughter and happy speech. One thing, though, is certain: every voice is female. There is no men in this camp, at least not out in the open.

“We are almost to the Queen,” Meadow says, leading Novaoa. “The moment of truth approaches.”

The air around her slowly changes. The cool breeze blowing through the forest feels cooler, yet she is left feeling as warm as if she was lying naked in the sun. There is a thrumming energy as well. She feels it swirling around her, drifting towards something… A great power, something more than mortal but not quit a god. It grows stronger with every step and the energy lifts her spirits, making her feel as if there is only joy and kindness in the world. It seems to be washing away the harsh memories of her life, even the vibrant recent memories of the Trolls.

“We are here,” Meadow says, making Novaoa stop.

She is still blindfolded yet she knows the queen of the Fey sits before her. She can feel her so intensely that she almost sees her.

Then she feels Meadow’s small fingers untying her blind fold before stepping away from her. Novaoa keeps her eyes closed as the thing falls from her face. A gust of wind picks up and she sensed the leaves blowing apart, drifting up into the air and dissipating back into nothingness. She opens her eyes and looks up, seeing the moment their green shapes lose form, melting in to wisps of magical energy that floats away.

They are standing in a clearing, the sun shining down more brightly then she has ever seen, yet it does not blind her. Her eyes don’t even need to adjust to the light. Looking to her left she sees a perfectly clear pond, its surface glistening as the light reflects off its surface. Fish swim and dance just below the surface and the water that swirls around them glows with magical energy.

This is a magic place, an ancient place untouched by few since its birth. Yet the power here is nothing compared to what flows off the woman sitting before her.

Slowly Novaoa turns to face Queen Faeven. As she does the power emanating off of her hits her in cascading waves that makes her feel weak in the knees. She drops down, bowing before the Fey Queen, awed by her power and beauty. She has to avert her eyes, unable to look up again till permitted to.

“You may see me, child,” Queen Faeven says. Her voice is a song of feminine perfection and holds more power than the most powerful bardic song.

Novaoa looks up, awed even further as she fully takes in the sight of the Queen. She is a Fey creature, yet she is more than the small wispy winged women that flutter around them. Her body is more human and far more curvaceous. She has pleasingly thick limbs and wide, alluring hips.

All of this is clearly on display as the woman is naked, wearing only a translucent golden crown that shines radiantly as if it is made of refined sunlight. Novaoa blinks, struggling to keep looking at the woman. She glistens and glows as if she is more magic than physical being. Her face is the most beautiful thing Novaoa has ever seen, so perfect that it is beyond comparison to mortal beauty. And when she smiles down at Novaoa the Nemorvian feels all anger, hate, and fear inside of her dissolve.

“I sense greatness in you,” Queen Faeven says, rising with elegant smoothness from the large rectangular rock that serves as her throne. As she had sat on it the rock’s surface had been smooth and bare, but as soon as she lifts up form it winding vines grow up from the earth and covered it in fresh greenery.

Novaoa feels herself pushed back as the Queen of the Fey rises and takes a step towards her. There is so much power… And her body! It is… perfect. Every curve radiates a powerful sexual perfection. From the curve of her hips to the swelling of her breasts, breasts that Novaoa now realizes were almost as big as her own. The Queen has a body that is indecent in its proportions like that of a fertility goddess, yet it sparkles with pure innocence.

“Yes,” the Queen says, moving closer to Novaoa, flowers sprouting up as her feet leave the ground as she takes each step forward. “My body is divinely perfect, desired by all that see it.”

Novaoa blushes. The Queen has read her mind somehow and her own thoughts shame her.

“Do not be ashamed. Sexual attraction is a natural, wondrous thing. It brings pleasure and emotional bonding and can bring new life into the world.”

She steps ever closer to Novaoa, who suddenly feels the need to stand. She rises to her feet and is left standing eye to eye with the Fey Queen yet she feels as though the woman towers above her.

Queen Faeven reaches out and places a hand on Novaoa’s naked shoulder. Warmth flows from her hand making Novaoa feel light headed and giddy with peaceful delight. “I can see into your past, see that the sexual things that have swirled around you have not been pure and loving. They have been full of greedy selfishness and above all the perverse taint of The Corruption. I gladdens my heart to know you had already taken up the battle against such perversion. I feel the uncorrupted gods work their will through you, that you have been brought to us for a reason.”

Novaoa starts to nod, transfixed by the Queen’s eyes.

“She must still be tested,” a deep, distrusting voice calls out firmly beside them.

The sound breaks some of the Queen’s enthralling magic. She takes her hand from Novaoa’s shoulder and seems to glide back to her stone throne, the green vines on it receding back into the earth as she sits down. “Yes,” the Queen says as she sits, sadness pulling at her features, “she must be tested. We cannot be too careful.”

Looking to the side Novaoa sees who the distrusting voice belongs to.

Beside her stands a massive, hulking Human woman covered in the bulging muscles. Her bulk is inhumanly large and Novaoa knows at once what she was: someone able to tap into the barbarian’s rage. It has swollen her body and made her larger, stronger. The power has also increased the size of the woman’s breasts but they are firmly held in place by the imposing woman’s outfit.

She is covered in cascading layers of furs and leathers, large teeth and horns interwoven in them. She has on a small skirt, fangs of some massive monster sewn all around its edges. Belts of dark leather wrap around her waist and more furs fall from them down her back, part of the strange half dress made of the red scales of some huge lizard the other half well worn leather.

Fabric is wrapped tightly around her prominent bust, pressing her breasts in and keeping their substantial bulk in check. The garment looks as though it could be closed over her muscular abs when she is not bulked up, but now the garment hangs stretched open below her breasts, large teeth and fang like tusks sewn into their form making it look as if her stomach is a mighty maw open and roaring.

A massive dire bear’s pelt hangs from her back serving as a cape. It is tucked into to large two masses of bone on each shoulder, a jumble of huge interwoven jumble of bone, tusks and jaws and half of a skull.

The woman’s size would have been enough to make her an imposing sight but the outfit makes her absolutely terrifying. Even her hair style adds the fierceness of the woman, the hair cut shorter than most men’s hair, all but one long tangled, dreaded braid hanging down one side of her head. The woman clearly has a pretty face, but it is masked by bright red tribal artwork painted onto it.

But there was more. She holds a weapon in each hand and they are bound to where hands with tightly woven strips of red cloth, making it look like she couldn’t release her hold on them even if she wanted to. One of the weapons is a long, slender sword with a slightly curved blade. Looking at the handle Novaoa sees that the blade is carved from bone and had once been a tusked jaw.

The other weapon is even more imposing. It is massive, so large that she doubted it could be picked up when the woman wasn’t bulked up with the muscles of the barbarian rage. Angular, sharpened ebony stone forms a curved blade and the spiked bones of some unimaginable demon creature is fused with the stone.

The woman glares at Novaoa and flexes her muscles, lifting her weapons up. “I am The Blade of the Queen,” she declares. “I am the rage she cannot express, for she is too pure. Since entering her service I have been like this, the barbarian’s rage not subsiding even for a moment. My weapons are magically bound to my hands and they cannot be released till my Queen’s war is won.”

Novaoa isn’t sure how to reply. The hulking woman steps closer, looming over the Nemorvian. “You must be tested. The enemy has sent agents disguised as allies before. If you prove to be one your death shall be swift and painless, more mercy than you would deserve but it is what my Queen desires.”

“Do not be afraid,” Queen Faeven says with a musical laugh. “The Blade is my fury and my caution, but I have faith you will pass the test.”

“What is this test,” Novaoa says, looking away from The Blade and feeling light headed. This is all too much. She feels as though she is walking amongst gods and legends. And the numerous Fey that flutter about in the air, singing and laughing, don’t help her feel any more grounded.

Queen Faeven leans back on her stone throne, bracing both her hands beside herself on its surface as she spreads her legs open and pulls her feet up. She is left with her womanhood spread and revealed. It is hairless and so perfectly shaped it doesn’t seem to be real.

“You must come and kneel before me and taste the moisture of my arousal. Once on your lips you will be able to speak only truth for a time. Come now, Novaoa the Nemorvian, come taste me so you can be tested.”

Novaoa feels she was moving in a dream, like she is watching herself as she stumbles forward and kneels before the powerful Fey Queen. As she leans in the fragrance of the woman’s pussy makes her head swim. It is so real and strong, yet the scent of flowers and green living things is magically intermingled with its pungent mortal scents.

“Taste me,” the Queen whispers, placing a hand on her head and pulling Novaoa’s head into her pussy.

The Nemorvian closes her eyes and opens her mouth, letting her tongue dart out and lick the Fey Queen’s cunt. The taste of her womanhood can only be described as divine, every perfect taste imaginable all in one yet distinctly the strong taste of pussy. She takes one lick then feels herself magically forced back and up onto her feet.

“Now tell us, Novaoa,” the Queen asks firmly, “are you a willing servant of The Corruption? Are you a spy or agent sent to do us harm?”

Novaoa opens her mouth to answer and feels that she can only speak truth. “No,” she says, sighing in relief. “I wish only to serve you, to serve in your army.”

The air around her shifts, a tenseness that had building but had gone unnoticed by Novaoa till then dissolving.

Queen Faeven sits up and closes her legs. “Novaoa is a true ally,” she declares loudly. “We shall welcome you as one of our own. You will be given clothing and armor and our Fey smiths shall arm you with potent magical weapons should you want them. You are a member of my army now, pledged not to me but to the battle against The Corruption.”

She pauses, the smile disappearing from her face. “I protect my army with power that can challenge the gods themselves. Yet you must know one thing: as mighty as my power is it could all be lost in an instant. Should a man’s penis ever touch my form my power would end, as would all the boons I have bestowed upon my gathered forces. This is why we hide our camp, why we prepare for the liberation of those held in sexual servitude in Iphasea City in secret. Do you understand Novaoa?”

“I think so, yes,” she replies, not at all meaning her words.

The Queen then laughs and waves her off. “Go now, Novaoa. Meadow shall tend to your needs. And soon you shall be informed of our first actions in this war of liberation.”


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