New Poll Driven Story: “The Revenge of Baer’theas Evenfluke the White”

Baer’theas Evenfluke the White strode through the city streets simmering with anger. “Filthy, disgusting, vile Dwarf woman,” he muttered under his breath, slamming his wizard’s staff into the ground with each step. “One of her race dare declare me sexually repulsive? ME!? A magnificently beautiful High Elf while she is nothing but a gross, fat-titted Dwarf?”

Many of the people he pushed passed looked at him as he muttered to himself as if he was a madman. He was mad, but not in that sense. Anger filled his veins from his feet to the tips of his elongated pointed ears. He passed a Dwarf and it took all his self-control not to whirl on the figure and cast a spell that would leave them a smoking husk.

But he held back. He was reserving all of his wrath for Lanven Swiftheart, the drunken slut of a bard that had so recently joined the party of adventurers he traveled with. She’d been flirting and flaunting her gross, wide, stout body and those disgustingly oversized tits of hers since she joined them. At first she’d just flirted with everyone around except Baer’theas. But by now she’d done more than flirt, she’d now slept with every member of the party except Baerth’theas, a fact she frequently pointed out.

He simmered in barely contained rage at the remembered slight. He found the sight of Lanven repulsive but knew to most eyes she was stunningly pretty, for a Dwarf at least. He had never wanted to bed the short cretin but everything she had done had made that point moot. As she’d flaunted her sexuality she’d made sure to point out her lust was pointing in every direction, every direction but towards him. She made it very clear she found the towering High Elf wizard gross and often mocked his looks and frequently mused over how shriveled and pathetic his cock must be and pointed out she’d never seen him bed a woman. She had even begun suggesting it must be because he preferred men!

“Foul fat little Dwarven bitch,” he spat.

“Watch it, Elf!” a man shouted as his spittle landed on the man’s foot.

Baer’theas turned to the man, his eyes glowing with barely contained sizzling blue magic. “You watch it, manling, or you’ll be sorry!”

The man glared and moved to reach for the sword he wore on his hip but stopped when Baer’theas’ eyes started to glow so intensely they began to steam. “Whatever you freak,” the man growled and turned to walk quickly away.

“Humans,” he snorted, the one word enough to express the derision he felt for their race. He turned and started pressing through the crowd again, intent on not being distracted again before he reached his destination.

He pushed through the crowd on the main thoroughfare and turned down a side street. It still felt busy here but that was mostly due to this side street being narrowing than the one he had left behind. There were less people here but they were pressed in tighter together. The shops he passed had darkened windows and many of their signs did not proclaim openly what wares they sold. When he started to pass buildings that had red flames lighting their upper windows he knew he was getting close.

Baer’theas didn’t stop till he came to the doors of a large temple. The emblem of the goddess the temple was dedicated to was prominently displayed on the large red banners draped over the front of the temple: a lascivious grin with a coin held between the teeth.

The temple was busy with men and women moving in and out of its large doors. It only took one look to recognize that the devoted moving in and out of the temple seemed a shady lot. The men all looked like scoundrels, an eclectic and diverse gathering of darkly clothed rouges and fat disreputable seeming nobles. The women were more uniform in their appearance: scantily clad and dressed like whores. That made perfect since most, if not all of them, were probably whores. What other woman would be visiting the temple of Baenta, goddess of prostitution?

Baenta was not a goddess Baer’theas had ever prayed too. But he was a very knowledgeable man. His party had always revered him not just for the magical powers he had at his beck and call but for the library of facts he had stored in his head. Most of them were Humans and young ones at that. He’d lived at least three times the longest-lived of them and even though they knew the amount of knowledge he had on call from his mind frequently astounded them. And he hadn’t lived the sheltered life most High Elves lived, he’d spent his long life wandered all across Alaria. There was rarely an encounter his party faced where his hundreds of years of experience and study didn’t aid them.

So even though he had never had reason to worship Baenta he knew in great detail all about the goddess and her followers. More importantly, he knew all about the blessings and relics created with their priests and priestess’ faith. There was a very specific charm he was after that day, one he knew most outside their faith was totally ignorant of. He also knew anyone, regardless of their faith, could enter the temple and purchase this charm for the right price.

He strode into the temple and chuckled at the dim red lighting. The place looked more like a brothel then a temple but he supposed the goddess of prostitution saw little difference between the two. The priests and priestesses manning the temple were all young, attractive, and barely clothed. Any man or woman could enter the temple and “pray” with one of them for the right price.

“The gods can do as they please,” he muttered, looking about for someone who looked like they would have access to the relic he needed. “If Baenta wants her place of worship to be a shrine and a whore house at the same time that is up to her.”

A middle-aged Human priest walked up to Baer’theas, smiling pleasantly. He wore only a loincloth and it barely covered his manhood. The wizard looked away from the sight, not happy to have to see another man’s privates. He was as straight as a man could be and that was part of why the foul Dwarf’s jabs had angered him so.

“How may I help you?” the priest asked. “Have you come to worship? I’m afraid we have no High Elf attendants in this temple but I can find many who will be more than happy to pray with one of your kind.”

“I have no doubt,” the wizard said haughtily. High Elves were the pinnacle of physical beauty, to pass up the chance to be with one sexually was madness!

The thought made the rage filling his heart start to bubble up but he quickly pushed it down, not wanting to let the priest see his real feelings. It was madness that a stout foul Dwarfling would turn her nose up at one of his kind!

He forced himself to smile before continuing to speak. “I actually come looking to purchase a certain item I know the faithful of Baenta creates. I have a female companion I wish to… pray to your goddess with.”

“I suspect I know what item you are looking for,” the priest said, giving the wizard a knowing wink. “Tell me, this companion, she is unwilling to ‘pray’ with you of her own free will?”

“Yes,” he replied simply.

“Come with me,” the priest said, waving for the High Elf to follow him as he turned and began to stride away. Baer’theas quickly followed after him, his heavy white robes dragging on the ground under him. “You understand such a potion costs a great deal of coin?” the man asked without turning around.

“I do,” Baer’theas answered. He reached into his robes and pulled out a heavy coin purse and jingled its contents. The party’s last adventure had been very financially rewarding and he drank and feasted less than the rest of his party did when in towns like this. As such he had more than enough coin and then some.

The priest looked back over his shoulder, beaming. “That sound is in its self a prayer to the goddess,” he said happily.

They turned down a hall then stopped at a locked door. The priest lifted his hand in the air and muttered a short prayer. A moment later his hand began to glow and a key took from there. Once it was solid he used it to open the door, leading Baer’theas into a small room, its walls lined with bubbling potions and glowing relics.

“This is the one you are looking for,” the priest said, grabbing a small disk-shaped item that fits in the palm of his hand. He showed it to Baer’theas and the wizard saw that the goddess’ symbol was inset in it. The etched lines glowed faintly with sparking red energy, a kind of magic that Baer’theas recognized as being sexual in nature. “You understand what it will do?” the priest asked him before closing his hand around the item.

“Oh yes,” Baer’theas said with an eager nod. “I know exactly what it does.” He lifted the coin purse up and started spilling its contents into his hand. “How much?”

The priest stared at the gold coins and licked his lips hungrily. He reached out and grabbed nearly all of them and demanded even more. Baer’theas was left with a nearly empty pouch but he didn’t care. “This should suffice,” the priest said. “May Baenta bless you.”

He started to hand the wizard the small relic but stopped. “You know what it will do when you activate it but do you know what is required for its powers to continue working after each use? Should you not do what the goddess requires then its magic will fail.”

“I knew some ritual was required when using it but know not the details. Please, priest, tell me what I must do,” Baer’theas said, sounding impatient but knowing this was important.

“Before you will the item’s power to stop you must place a single coin somewhere on the person you are using it on. The given coin is in return for the sexual services the relic has ensured that person has given you. Baenta expects this. Should you fail to do this the goddess will strip the magic from the charm and curse you.”

“I’d not like the curse of any goddess or god upon me,” Baer’theas replied with a nod. “Thank you for explaining. Now that I understand may I have what I’ve paid for?”

The priest grinned with pride as he handed the item over. “In the temple of Baenta one ALWAYS gets what they pay for.”

 

* * *

 

“Where have you been, Elf?” Lanven Swiftheart asked derisively as Baer’theas sat down and rejoined the party. They were taking up a corner of the busy tavern on the first floor of the inn they were all staying in, comfortable chairs pulled around a roaring fire.

“I had an errand to run,” he said, hating the tone the young Dwarf took with him. “I had potions and spell components I used on our last adventure that needed to be replaced,” he lied.

She lowered her brow and laughed. She had a Dwarven xylophone in her lap and wore metal tips on her pointer fingers. She started playing the instrument and singing a song. “Oh, grumpy old Baer’theas Evenfluke the White, unable to feast and revel! He cares only for his spells and potions, has not an eye for the attractive women that surround him. He keeps his robes closed tight and his legs closed even tighter. A cold icy beauty none find comely and all women shun. Yet they whisper it is young boys that flare his carnal Eleven desires!”

The rest of the party erupted into raucous laughter, toasting their mugs of ale to the end of the song. They clapped and laughed asking him if he found the song amusing. They were all so used to her taunts by now that they barely noticed the insult in their intent. On top of that, they were all so drunk any jape would make them laugh till they broke into tears.

Lanven was drunk too but not so drunk that she didn’t know exactly what she was doing. She sat back in her chair, spreading her legs as she rested her hands on the instrument in her laps. The short skirt she wore parted, revealing she wore no clothing underneath. Baer’theas snarled in disgust at the sight of her hairy snatch.

“See,” she said triumphantly. “One whiff of pussy he pulls back. I bet his shriveled little hairless Elf cock has never even been inside of a woman.” She leaned her head forward and smirked contemptibly at him.

He had reached into his robes, grabbing the newly purchased item and touching it as he willed its magic to activate. As she sat with her legs spread and that foul, infuriating smirk on her face he felt the thing burn with powerful magic.

A moment later the world around Baer’theas came to a halt. All sound ceased aside from that of his own breathing and even that sound seemed to be muffled as if it couldn’t properly travel through the air around him. All around him the people filling the busy tavern had become frozen in place as if time had stopped. Even the flickering of the fire and torchlight all through the room was frozen, the light emanating from their flames steady and no longer flickering.

He looked around, awed by the strange magic. “Baenta be praised,” he muttered. As the words left his lips he felt a ripple run through the stagnant air. It was a blast of divine energy that was easy to understand: the goddess who powered the item he had used was pleased to be offered his praise.

With that out of the way, Baer’theas turned back to Lanven. She was frozen perfectly still, leaning back in her chair with her legs spread open and the infuriating smirk locked on her unmoving on her face.

The High Elf wizard pushed himself up from his chair and flew towards her. He wanted to slap the smirk off her face and even raised his hand to strike her but stopped, containing his rage. “No,” he muttered, “I can’t use this item for that.” He lowered his hand and took a few deep calming breaths. “I have to use it for its intended purpose of I’ll anger Baenta.”

He was standing looking down at the mean-spirited Dwarven bard. He glared at her, hating her with every fiber of his body. As he stared at her he knew her features should please him. Her face WAS pretty, although the spiteful look frozen on it erased nearly all of the beauty to his eyes.

Slowly he forced himself to look down from her face. Her body was very Dwarven: squat and wide. On her feet she stood just under five feet tall, tall for one of her kind but not exceptionally so. She looked fat to his eyes but he knew she really wasn’t, that was just how Dwarves were built. Her width was as much muscle as it was fat and the skimpy, revealing outfit she wore left much of her skin revealed. She was thick and wide but he knew to most eyes her curves would be very pleasing. Compared to his lean tall body he knew hers would be grossly soft to his touch but there was something repulsively erotic about that to him.

Most revolting yet enthralling to him were her breasts. They were huge sacks of fat flesh that sagged down her front, barely contained by her top and so big they practically rested in her lap. He took a step closer, grabbing the tight shirt she wore and yanking it up. Her huge breasts spilled out, falling even further down her body. He sneered at the sight of them, sagging heavily from their own massive weight.

Her nipples were disgusting to his eyes and their true form revealed was a shock to him. Not small and perky like proper Elf nipples but instead huge as if the sheer size of her fat breasts had stretched them out. The buds were thick fleshy little lumps, swollen cherry sized beads of flesh. He could see that they were hardened and he knew not if this was from the cold air on her bare skin or if the drunken slut had been aroused as she tormented him. Her areolas were even grosser to him. Huge orbs of dark skin stretched out over her tit-flesh, their surface larger than the palm of his hand and pebbled into little firm lumps from her arousal.

“Gross, fat tits,” he sneered, staring at them as his cock hardened in his pants. As he stared in disgust he reached down and started opening the front of his robes. A moment later he shrugged the thick, heavy, pristinely white garment off, leaving himself standing only in his boots. Normally he wore some clothing underneath but knowing what he had planned for this evening he’d gone without.  His cock was rock hard and throbbed painfully. He had to grab hold of it, squeezing it to alleviate some of the pain of the intense erection.

“You’re so proud of these huge gross Dwarven tits,” he said to the bard, knowing she couldn’t hear him but not caring. “You flaunt their gross sagging bulk and use them to entice men to bed you wherever the party goes. You brag about how much men love them, how they are a marvel to behold and feel. And during all your boasting you always make sure to mention I’ll never be able to touch them, not even be given a glance of them.

“Well Lanven, you are wrong. I am looking at them now. They are gross. Fat, gross mounds of flesh. Repulsive yet how hard they make my cock. If time wasn’t frozen what would you think? What would you say to see me holding my cock staring at your tits? Something mocking, a cruel jape at my expense no doubt. And surely you’d tell me I’d never have them even as you sit there exposed and helpless.”

He squeezed his cock again, moaning slightly. His eyes were filled with anger and insane lust. “I’m going to fuck you huge, fat, gross tits. I’m going to fuck them and cum all over them knowing it’s the last thing you’d want me to do to them.”

Baer’theas moved closer, practically sitting down on the exposed Dwarven bard. Even as he pressed his body down onto her’s she remained perfectly still and unmoving, the same mocking smirk on her face.

He grabbed her tits, shuddering at just how big they felt in his hands. They were so large he couldn’t properly grab either of them, he had to simply push and shift their huge heavy weight around his shaft. He leaned in, pressing his throbbing cock down between them and onto her chest then pressed her mounds of tit-meat in tightly around himself.

“Dry,” he muttered. He knew a spell that could summon an oil that would act as a pleasurable lubricant but he decided against using it. Instead, knowing it would anger and repulse her, he leaned forward and let his mouth fill with saliva then pulled her breasts open and let the slimy fluid fall down out of his open mouth onto his cock. He pressed her tits back in around himself, smothering his dick with the slimy spit.

Then, holding her breasts even more tightly around himself and glaring at her, he started to fuck her tits. He moaned in delight, letting loose months of built up hatred and anger as he savagely pounded her breasts.

He’d been fantasizing about this moment for weeks. Had plotted and planned what he’d do as soon as they were in a town with a temple of Baenta. There was so much anticipation built up that he instantly started rocketing towards orgasm.

Baer’theas slammed his body into her huge breasts with one final grunt of pleasure then moaned deep and long, his whole body shuddering as he came. For a time he simply sat, pressed down into her body, his knees resting on the edge of the chair she sat on. He kept her huge thick breasts pressed in tightly around his cock, reveling in the feel of his cum oozing down around his member. He’d been quite backed up and had unloaded a huge load, the idea of so much cum in her tits and how repulsed she’d surely be made him smile.

He knew that when he let go of her tits and pulled away the cum would be messily smeared all over her tits and his cock. He closed his eyes, imagining the sight. Imagining her looking down when time unfroze to discover her shirt pulled open, her tits hanging out, cum all over them. He could picture her snarl of rage and confusion so clearly in his mind and the image brought him such joy.

Finally, his cock now uncomfortably soft, he pulled away. He stood, admiring the sight of her messy cum covered tits. “You are a truly repulsive individual,” he said to the frozen Dwarf. “And your huge gross sagging udders disgust me even more yet it was a great joy to ejaculate in them. I have a feeling we’ll be doing this again, although YOU won’t be aware of it.”

With that in mind, he quickly dressed then went and found the nearest barmaid, grabbing a rag from out of her apron then going back to Lanven and wiping all the oozing cum off her tits. He did so with great sadness, wishing he could leave the cum there. But that was too risky.

Once her chest was cleared off he fixed her clothing so it was exactly as it had been when he had frozen time. He also went and returned the rag to the maid’s apron. Looking about he nodded, seeing that everything other than him was just the way it had been when he froze time. He was just preparing to return to his seat when he stopped, remembering he had to hide a coin on her.

He pulled a single copper coin from his pocket and stood before the smirking woman, trying to decide where to put it. He wanted to place it in her mouth, closing her teeth around it or maybe tucked into her cleavage. But he had no idea if she, or any of the others sitting with them, knew of the item he was using or were familiar with the goddess of prostitution. For now he’d play it safe. He simply tucked the coin into her pocket.

Then he sat back down in his seat, trying to position himself in the same position he had been when he had frozen time. Then, willing the power of the charm to end, time came unfrozen.

Time began moving. Lanven was staring into his eyes, smirking derisively. But as she saw the happy, gloating look now on his face her expression broke. “What are you so happy about?” she demanded drunkenly.

“Oh, nothing,” he said, rising to his feet and stretching as he yawned sleepily. “I’m just… happy. The happiest I’ve been in some time. And I’m ready for bed. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

With that he excused himself, heading to his rented room upstairs. He left Lanven behind, looking confused. “Crazy Elf,” she muttered, turning to the others and brightening up. “Well, now that his stuffy ass is gone how about we really get this party started?”

She had no idea what had happened.

 

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