Poll Driven Story: “The Freeing of Otyx”

A new entry! If you’re looking for the story in its current entirety go HERE.

After lying on the ground for a while she started to stir, slowly rising. Her mind was still heavily muddled and she felt as though she was in a fog-filled dream as she began putting her clothes back on.

When it came time to put her top on she found it no longer fit, for her breasts were FAR too big now. With a shrug she tossed the top to the side, abandoning it as she continued to dress and gather her gear. She still had her traveling cloak and that could be wrapped over her top, although it hung open with her huge blue tits hanging out.

Finally, she was ready to move on. She started pressing further into the dungeon, whistling happily and not at all realizing how strange it was that her breasts had not only been so enlarged but that she was happily facing the dangers of the dungeon with them hanging out and bouncing all about as she walked forward.

After traveling forward for another ten minutes through the seemingly never-ending central passage her mind was beginning to clear, but only a bit. She still was not able to recognize how strange her current physical state was, but she WAS able to actually pay attention to her surroundings once again.

She had to stop to investigate a large section of wall covered in beautifully carved lettering. The letters were large and drawn with flashy curves as they glowed and sparkled with pretty magical light. But the thing that had made Ryvlull stop to investigate the section of wall was neither how pretty the writing was nor how magical it seemed. No, what had caused her to stop was that she could read the lettering.

When she had first glanced at the lettering it seemed to be written in the same ancient language all the other writing in this place was written in. But when she looked again the letters seemed to have shifted, becoming the clear letters of the common language most in Alaria now spoke.

It was clear to her, even in her muddled mental state, that this section of wall had a powerful enchantment on it to make it so the writing could be read by anyone who viewed it. She felt drawn to the writing, wondering what the creators of this place had found so much more important than anything else written on the dungeon walls. She knew an enchantment like this took great skill but it wouldn’t be particularly draining to create if one knew how to do it. There shouldn’t have been any reason the creators would not have been able to make ALL of the writing in this place like this, readable by all who viewed it.

Holding her staff tightly in one hand she stepped up to the wall, staring at the writing before her. The letters glowed with red sparking energy and they seemed to shift and dance slightly as if the magic making them readable was only barely held in place.

She placed a finger of her free hand onto the first line and slowly began to read the words aloud. “I am a slut,” she said slowly, moving her finger along the line of text, “and I deserve to cum.”

Pausing, she furrowed her brow. “What a strange thing to leave here, written so anyone can read it,” she said to herself. “I wonder if this is the words of an important priest that ran this temple? Or maybe if this place was dedicated to some perverse sexual god these were their words?”

The answers were not apparent so she moved her finger to the next line of text and kept reading. “I am a whore and I deserve to cum. I am a fucktoy and I deserve to cum.”

She stopped, blushing at the perverse words. Yet she had to keep reading, she had to know who had transcribed these words and why. It never occurred to her that the words were not some record of someone who lived ages ago. If her brain had not been so addled she might have stopped reading, fearing the words were actually a trap that was activated by being read.

“I am a cunt and I deserve to cum,” she said, continuing to read the writing on the wall. “I am a bimbo and I deserve to cum. I am a slave to my cunt and I deserve to cum. I am a cock addict and I deserve to cum. I am a cock-sleeve and I deserve to cum. I am a cum bucket and I deserve to cum.”

She paused then, seeing that the words simply repeated after this. She still had her finger under the last line she had read. As she tried to ponder what the words meant the wall where her finger touched started to heat and she felt magical energy building up.

 

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