Archive of Our Own

“We’re not going to make it!”

“What?” Terrin could barely hear his companion Killette as she shouted over the howling wind. She had to approach him, pulling the hood of her ur-bison parka tight around her ears, to be clearly heard. Her greatsword waggled on her back as she walked; Terrin saw the runic handle was crusted with ice.

“You said the spell of warmth would last only an hour more!” she yelled, having to nearly scream despite being only a foot away. The incessant, whooping wind of the Great Gagnar Pass made it almost impossible to hear. “The storm isn’t letting up! We’re not going to make it in one go!”

Killette was a tan-skinned human with light brown eyes, they glistened like ambers, and Terrin saw the legitimate worry in them. This told him that her warning wasn’t overdue caution, but real, for he knew Killette to be fearless. If she was concerned about the storm, it was something he should take seriously, in spite of his penchant for fooling around. Her hard-headed, hard-drinking personality had always been a contrast to his tomfoolery; it was part of the reason they had worked so well together in the prior five years as an adventuring team.

He looked down at the ball of warmth that was emanating from his palm. A simple sorcery, but it was the only thing keeping them alive. Without it, they would have frozen to death long since. But Killette was right. His supply of magical charges was waning. The glammer would soon fade, leaving them vulnerable… until he could find respite and make additional preparations. Impossible to do in a blizzard.

Still, Terrin offered a wink and a smile. “Is this your plan to seduce me? Bunking down together in the wild? Perhaps a nice geothermally-heated cave?”

She gave him a whack. “This is no time for elven jokes. We have to find shelter in the next hour.” When she wasn’t in her cups, Killette could be dead serious. She pointed up the path with one fur-lined arm. Almost nothing could be seen of either of their shapes, they were so bundled up in furs and traveling packs - though hers was larger than his. Terrin had placed much of his luggage in a bag of holding - a device that Killette refused to use.

“There!” Killette cried out, into the haze of the blizzard. “A signpost! If there’s a path to traveler’s rest, it will point the way!”

Terrion squinted. “I see nothing!”

“It’s there!” she assured him, and he trusted her enough after five years to take some things on faith. Her eyes were sharp. They trudged forward, making tracks in the deep snow, aware of the path only by the depression it followed through the surrounding rocks. They had judged they could cross Great Gagnar in one day, making quick time - but the storm was worse than even their worst estimations (and his divinations) had concluded. It had killed their progress; Terrin estimated they were only halfway down the other side, with night approaching.

Killette, taking great strides, reached the signpost first. It was no more than wooden pegs sticking out of an obelisk of haphazard rocks. She brushed the snow from the pegs, of which there were three. One read “Summit”, from whence they had come. One read “Gagnar Gate, 17 turls”, which was where they were headed. But seventeen turls was too much to cover in five hours of clear day, much less one in a blizzard.

The third read “Thicknut Lodge, 1 turl”. A path seemed to lead away from the stone and into a more heavily forested area. It was barely discernible in the snow, but Killette’s eyes sparkled all the same. 

“A lodge!” she cried out, gesturing toward the signpost. “We can put our feet up, get something to drink!”

“I’ve never heard of Thicknut Lodge,” Terrin replied. “Cylin would have mentioned it, he’s made the crossing a dozen times.”

“And I’ve never heard of an elf mage who can keep his mouth shut, but I keep hoping for it all the same!” Killette snapped back, impatiently. “Look, I don’t care if it’s no more than an abandoned shithouse - if it has walls, a roof, and a floor, it’ll be enough to keep us safe with a good fire. And you can prepare more warmth incantations.”

Terrin smiled and held up his hands in surrender. He knew better than to argue with Killette when she was agitated - and after fourteen hours hiking a snowy mountain, she was as agitated as he’d seen her in a while. He knew from experience that when she got agitated, it was best to stay out of the way, lest your face get punched in by her iron gauntlet. Thus, when she turned and began to follow the scant path toward Thicknut Lodge, he moved quickly behind her.

“It’s an odd name, that’s all I’m saying!” he yelled into the wind, lifting and dropping each foot high in the snow.

“Elven!” Killette said.

“I don’t think so!”

“Your people are always naming things after roots and bark and twigs! Why not nuts?” Killette shot back. The path quickly started to move uphill, under a canopy of thicker trees. 

“I think you’re confusing us with squirrels!” Terrin cried back, jokingly. “My people are a proud sylvan race, masters of the wood!”

“And I got the one who happened to be a master of bullshit!” came the retort. And so the conversation went as they moved; human and elf, snark and counter-snark. It was comfortable to Terrin, and though she wouldn’t admit it, comfortable to Killette as well. As the time passed and his final warmth spell started to wane, Terrin came around to Killette’s way of thinking - any place was better than none. The howling wind was beginning to cut to the bone; he couldn’t very well wield a wand or staff with frostbitten fingers.

In the next twenty minutes of walking, the wood only deepened, and the darkness of evening started to eliminate what little light was remaining under the snow-blasted tree canopies. The path had started to narrow, to the extent that the duo had to brush away snow-choked branches in order to pass through, moving steadily upward.

Killette paused and kicked at the ground. “These are steps! Cut from stone!” she yelled back. “They have to lead to whatever is ahead!” They blundered forward, nearly blind. Terrin muttered a few words and cast a light-producing spell on the tip of his wand, holding it up like a torch. His lips were trembling with cold; he almost fouled the spell. It did little good - the white sheets of snow dulled everything beyond ten feet.

“If we don’t find this place soon… I’m going to lodge a complaint with management!” Terrin complained. “I was promised a warm bearskin, wenches and ale. Instead, I’m freezing to death!”

“Shut up and keep moving!”

They did. And mercifully, just when all hope seemed lost and the night was going to swallow them, something appeared ahead - faint and flickering, but real. A light. They used what little reserves of energy they had to stumble toward it, their breath coming out in sprays of frosty white, swinging their hips, walking as if on stilts through the deep snow.

The light grew clearer and clearer, the path even more narrow. More than once, protruding pine branches scraped their faces. There was an area where the trees had grown across the path, and they had to push through to the light on the other side - which seemed to dance forever out of reach - and when they did, stumbling forward and nearly falling… they saw they had arrived.

The light was a gentle blue, an open lantern with a floating ball of energy inside. As they stepped into the radius of its soft light, Terrin and Killette felt immediate warmth… like settling next to a fire. The path in a large diameter around the strangely-carved wooden lamp post was completely clear of snow. And there were further lanterns beyond it, leading upward, each with the same ‘safe zone’ of snowless respite.

“This is glammer,” Terrin assessed, examining the post. “An enchantment.”

“I don’t care if it’s flowers by ogre courier,” Killette groused. “It’s warm.” She moved close and warmed her face. 

“The wind is gone, too,” Terrin added, realizing that their voices were coming from a place of relative quiet. The howl of the blizzard was still present, but muted, as if coming from behind a locked door. “I would be interested to find out how this was done.”

“The one who did it is likely up ahead,” Killette replied, teeth chattering. “While I’m getting hot food and a blanket, you can waste your time asking.”

Their eyes went back to the path. There was something up ahead in a clearing, but the trees were too dense to make it out. The road seemed to rise and form a sort of plateau… and the trees grew more verdant and less snow-covered as one approached the rise. They could even see fireflies flitting about the branches. After resting in the warmth of the lantern for ten minutes - long enough that the snow started to melt off of their furs - they moved forward, hustling from lantern to lantern, resting briefly in the radius of heat, and pushing on again.

As they approached the rise, the steps became more pronounced and the path more curated - it was a straight line, wide enough for perhaps two people side by side, with trees enfolding it from every angle. A wood-char sign hung was attached to one of the lamp posts along the way, reading, in Common tongue, “Welcome To Thicknut Lodge”. And ahead, at the place where the column opened up to the clearing atop the plateau, there was actual, honest-to-goodness green .

“Look at that!” Killette cried, picking up speed. “It’s a goddamn oasis in this shitstorm!” 

Terrin hustled to follow her - he was handsome, with his sharp elven features and long blonde hair, but Killette was the athletic one. They emerged into a clearing of green grass and protrusions of curved, spell-shaped roots. At the center of the strange, fey garden, beset by flitting fireflies, was a wooden lodge of a quality and craftsmanship that neither of them had ever seen. Every beam, overhang, and surface was filigreed with intricate carvings. Strange, miniature trees seemed to grow from the very roof, and from these hung large and oversized chestnuts, each one the size of a large potato. The windows were frosted, but from within there was such a glow of warmth and welcome that an arriving traveler could be sure there was a hearth and merriment inside.

They were both wide-eyed with astonishment. They had expected a weather-beaten shack, probably abandoned - or perhaps occupied by a few other travelers making the Gargan run. “Are you seeing this?” Terrin breathed, nudging his companion with a numb elbow.

“It looks like a house of gingerbread,” Killette said, stunned. “Like… a decoration brought to life.”

They walked toward the front door in weary feet. From within, they could hear music - actual tavern music! - and even the gentle murmur of conversation. It seemed too good to be true… and that gave Terrin, who was experienced in magic and illusion, a moment of pause.

“Wait-” he said, just as Killette reached for the ornate wooden door handle. It was carved in the shape of a fey dragon’s head and tongue. 

“Wait?!” Killette replied. “I’ve been freezing my tits off all day! I’m going in!”

“It’s just-” Terrin started, then stopped. He looked around again. And to her credit, Killette trusted him enough to wait for a finish to his thought, if he had one. But concentrate as he might, he could detect no illusion that he knew of. The wooden boards and walls seemed real enough; the scent of nature and honey and mead offered an air of authenticity. 

Perhaps it was nothing at all.

“What?” Killette prompted him.

“I was just thinking,” he said, scanning the roof, with those strange, overhanging branches with oversized chestnuts.

“Thinking what?”

“Those are some pretty big nuts!” Terrin flashed her a joking grin. Killette rolled her eyes.

“I should have known you’d make that stupid joke.” She gripped the handle, and threw the door open, stepping inside with her typical unshakeable confidence. Immediately, an aura of welcome seemed to envelop them. The inside was a raucous-but-polished bar with an assortment of tables and accouterments. There were two levels, and lute was being enchantingly strummed on the upper floor. A blazing fire pit, sure to dispel any cold, was set in the wall opposite the bar.

Killette’s eyes lit up as soon as she saw the huge selection of booze, tended by a glass-polishing tiefling bartender in a smart vest and puffy shirt. His golden eyes seemed to glow with the invitation to sit and drink; he polished a mug expectantly. There were philters and bottles and canteens of all sorts, not to mention stout kegs. Terrin could identify the origin of some of the stock, but some were completely foreign to her, and featured exotic glasswork that seemed beyond the capabilities of a simple seller of spirits. Set in the wall next to this colorful display of glass was a door that, by the smell, opened to a busy kitchen. 

His eyes only wandered over these things briefly, though. They were drawn more immediately to something else - the barmaids.

Terrin had never seen such comely wenches in his life. Two of them flanked the edges of the long wooden surface, dressed in frilly maid outfits that were high-hemmed and low-cut. There was no polite way to put it - the one on the left was a petite human female who had the biggest tits Terrin had ever seen in his life. They were so massive that the underside of each wombling, heavy sphere reached all the way to her navel - which was outlined by the tightness of her dress. He didn’t know how the shoulder straps, pulled taut as they were, didn’t just snap from the weight. If she was uncomfortable, though, the barmaid didn’t show it. She waved cheerily  and beckoned him to the bar, saying “Hiiiiiii!” in a rather airheaded tone.

At the opposite end he first thought was a child, but turned out to be an elf who was quite short - her head barely rising to his mid-bicep and Killette’s shoulder. But that only meant that her figure was compacted into a smaller area… and what an area it was! Her breasts weren’t as large as the other, but her small size made them look huge all the same. She was turned sideways, in silhouette, and had such a bubbly mound of elf butt that it looked like an additional shelf to store drinks on.

“By the gods,” Terrin whispered, feeling his cock twitch at the sight. He’d never seen such a rump - he’d need two hands just to grope one cheek, and even that would probably fall short of the task. It wasn’t just the shape of the barmaids that struck him, though - the duo seemed to carry an aura of accessibility and invitation… as if they wanted his attention, his affection, and the touch of his body. Their doe eyes had a hint of dumb eagerness. Their lips were painted, bee-stung, and full of lewd oral promise. Their hair was long and luxurious, obviously diligently-kept in order to make an impression on males - the human in pink, the elf in regal drill-curls of blonde. 

Terrin found himself standing in the doorway like an idiot, gawking, but Killette had no such hesitation. “Meat and beer!” she roared, no doubt smelling the scent and hearing the sizzle from the kitchen. “Now we’re talking!”

“Please, come in!” the tiefling bartender invited. “Shia and Ellone will attend to you.” He pronounced the second name Ellow-knee , and gestured toward the short-stacked blonde elf. The tiefling’s voice was cultured and disarming - not exactly what they might have expected of a mountain man. But it was becoming clear that Thicknut Lodge was no ordinary place.

“Don’t mind if I do!” Killette said, boisterously. She didn’t consider herself a lady and didn’t have a lady’s comportment; when it came to adventuring, she could drink and fight just as well as the boys. “Pour me a drink, my man. Ale, something with some kick to it.”

The tiefling, his skin a deep red and his hair a dark black, swept away from his forehead, smiled and filled a frosty mug from one of the kegs. “I know just the thing,” he said. “A unique brew, with a special head.”

“Don’t treat her like some high-class customer,” Terrin joked, still in the doorway. He was buying time, removing his fur to reveal his robes and sash. He joked when he was nervous. “She’ll drink mare’s piss if the price is right.”

“Shut up!” she called back good-naturedly, then turned her attention back to the bartender. “Tiefling, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” In his cultured accent, it came out mum . “I inherited this place from my father, and he from his father before him.”

“Have you got one of those long-ass names?” Killette asked, doffing her own fur. As she let it fall from her shoulders, she revealed a physique that was both athletic and beautiful. She favored light and tight-fitting leathers for greater mobility in battle; thus she wore a tunic that was laced tight and without sleeves, showing off her cinnamon complexion and the gorgeous muscle tone of her arms. Her leather leggings were likewise flattering, and showed off the muscular legs and bottom that she’d honed with all of her running, jumping, and practicing of swordplay. Many had called Killette a ‘tomboy’, and Terrin supposed she was - not many of the women he’d known back in Alcara City had short hair, or calluses on their hands, or slivers of white scar tissue in places on their chest and back. But he believed these traits enhanced her beauty rather than hindering it. 

The only place she was lacking was in the breast department… and woe betide the fool rude enough to point it out. She had once, rumor said, responded to a half-orc’s breast-related disparagement by punching out his teeth and then, as Terrin’s source had informed him a wince, “jamming them one by one into his dickhole”. Luckily, it seemed in Thicknut Lodge there were breasts to spare.

“My name is Xandrithuliculcar,” the tiefling confessed. “But you may refer to me as Xander, if it is easier.” 

He had finished preparing her drink, which, in peculiar fashion, he had done by drawing from not one, but two kegs. A long draw from one, and then a second to top up the mug with a foamy head of suds. “This is a drink traditional among the zenni-shamans of the lowlands, made for female warriors to grant them calm and serenity before battle. We are always excited to greet female travelers here. As you may suspect from our hostesses… our guests are predominantly male.”

“Don’t think I can’t outdrink the males!” Killette barked, and took the mug from the tiefling’s hand. The liquid was a deep brown color, and the foam thick and slightly off-white. She brought it to her mouth and then recoiled slightly, wrinkling her nose. “Whew!” she breathed, raising an eyebrow. “Those zenni-shamans aren’t kidding around. This is pungent stuff.”

The tiefling grinned and gave a short bow. “It has a… lowland flavor,” he said, and Terrin detected a note of sarcastic indulgence in his voice. Terrin approached the bar to get a better look as Killette raised the glass to her mouth, taking a swig. There was something unspeakably lewd about her throat chugging a gulp or two, the thick, almost curd-like foam painting the outside of her mouth, and especially the way she licked all around to clean it up afterward, plunking the mug down on the table with satisfaction.

“BUURRRRRRRRRRRP!” she belched, then wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist. “Gods damned, that hit the spot.” She reached out to the foamy li of the mug and ran her finger around it, gathering some of the off-white head. “Can’t say I’ve ever tasted anything like that.” She brought her finger to her mouth and sucked on it. “Nnngh… stinky and bitter as anything!”

“It is a drink of contrasts combined, my lady,” Xander said, bowing slightly. “The bitterness of the head, the smoothness of the pour.”

If Terrin found anything strange or off-putting about the drink, his thoughts were quickly derailed as he felt soft hands gripping his elbows… and huge breasts brushing against his forearms! The girls, Shia and Ellone, had moved to his side with silent strides. They were giggling, purring, blinking and blushing - in short, doing everything to disarm him and act as the most enticing and indulgent arm candy.

“May we recommend an activity for the night?” Shia purred, leaning against his shoulder. Terrin felt her massive breasts bulging against his side; he even detected the rise of one swollen nipple pressing against his ribs. And on his other arm, Ellone was rubbing her cheek against his arm and mewling in a high voice.

“I warn you ladies… I’m expensive,” Terrin joked. He had always been quick with a word, especially under duress. Though this hardly counted as duress … more like, an overwhelming and sudden bout of too-good-to-be-true. His second one of the day.

“We accept no money for our services, sir,” Shia whispered, and then craned her neck up to plant a kiss on his earlobe. “Perhaps you’d like to start with an oil massage. We’re in need of a… decisive male, to settle a bet between us.”

“Oh? A bet?” Terrin gestured for the bartender to bring him a mug of ale as well. His attention was being pulled in many directions, but he looked long enough to see that his drink was drawn in the normal way - from one keg. The zenni-shaman special, it seemed, really was for women only. When Xander topped it and slid it over - in an ornate glass carafe that was probably worth a hundred times the ale inside - he noted that the head looked like normal foam, and not thicker, clingy curds as previous.

“Yes, a bet!” Ellone chirped, her high and infantile voice at odds with her hyper-voluptuous hips. “You see, Shia says that she can most efficiently spread oil with her chest… but I believe I can do it better with my butt!”

Terrin, who had been sipping from his carafe, spewed out a mouthful of beer as the ladies lewdly propositioned him. They were being much more direct than he expected, and he felt their hands wandering over the front of his robe and down below his beltline as they pushed in on either side. 

“What kind of food have you got in this joint?” Killette said. She had already finished her mug, and was having Xander draw another. 

“Yes!” Terrin piped up. “I believe a meal is called for before any… nightcap.” The girls snuggled in close and giggled at him, he was again struck by their almost doll-like mindlessness. It was strange… but not off-putting enough to kill his quickly-expanding elven boner, that was for sure. They’re only very well trained , he told himself. Schooled expertly in servicing the fantasies of weary traveling men. Nothing more than that.

“For the lady I would recommend the Thicknut Chowder,” Xander said.  “A sumptuous blend of smooth, locally-sourced potato and the finest seasoned and diced vegetables. Boar bacon and cheese garnish to taste. It warms the bones and fills the belly. A specialty here for over a hundred years.”

“Works for me,” Killette chirped, pounding her second mug of beer. She looked over at Terrin and rolled her eyes as he was beset by the barmaids. “And maybe you should get a bucket of cold water for my friend, here.”

Xander bowed shortly. “My apologies if Shia and Ellone are intruding on a prior relationship ,” he offered. “Hospitality is in their blood, you see.”

At that, Killette reddened, and she turned away slightly. “Terrin and I? A prior relationship? He wishes!” But her eyes said there was more to the story. Nonetheless, Xander continued on.

“For the gentleman I suggest a leg of lamb. Our chef is a wizard with meat. No offense to any actual wizards.”

“I’ll have it,” Terrin agreed. Any rumblings in his stomach were secondary to the rumbling in his loins as the two barmaids continued to run their hands over him. Shia whispered in his ear that she needed help getting her bra off, and asked if he was the sort of adventurer who could help with that. Ellone cattily squeaked that she could use a new stool to sit on, if his lap was up to the job.

Xander made a great show of clapping his hands and yelling back to the kitchen. “One Thicknut Chowder, and one leg of lamb! Hop to it, Ruzilda! Our customers are waiting.” A great bellow came back from behind the door, telling the tiefling to ‘hold his horses’ and that it would be ready soon.

Killette polished off her second mug, burped again, and wiped thick foam curds from her mouth, then looked at Terrin and rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the first time that her mage friend had been led around by his cock, she knew, and it wouldn’t be the last. Feeling the pleasant numbness of a cozy drunk roll in, she banged her fist on the bar and asked for another ale.

“Hurry up, you big galoot!” whined Zelda, flitting in the air on her miniature bat wings. Though no larger than a foot tall, her kazoo-like voice still carried enough volume to be irritating. “We’ve got two orders up!”

She was addressing her co-worker, Ruzilda, who had in size everything that the hovering mini-succubus lacked. A powerfully-built orcess with a mane of shining raven hair that cascaded down over her muscled back, Ruzilda was voluptuous in the extreme, and wore only an open-backed apron in the hot kitchen, revealing her powerful olive-green buttocks and enormous, spherical tracts of sideboob - each one of her breasts was larger than her companion’s tiny body in its entirety. Her eyes were bright and dazzling blue, and her nose was decorated with a golden ring, while her protruding, rubbery nipples were pierced through with heavy barbell piercings. 

One might have expected such a woman to have her clitoris pierced as well, but Ruzilda lacked such equipment. Rather, she had an obscenely large and unspeakably virile penis, a mix of her green skin tone with a slightly purplish fade toward the tip, where blood flow was strongest. It was of surpassing size. Ruzilda herself was nearly seven feet tall - a prime example of the physicality of her kind - and the entire vein-choked length of her meat was nearly twenty inches, with a thickness that even her large hand couldn’t encircle with closed fingers. Below the shaft, two massive, dragon-egg balls swung sweatily against her thighs, nearly to the knee… and above, her pubis was decorated by a mane of perspiration-matted pubic hair.

In spite of her imposing size, however, Ruzilda had a rather earnest personality, which was shown when she responded to Zelda’s instructions not with complaint, or by swatting the diminutive kitchen pest like a fly, but rather with renewed effort as she jerked her steaming, throbbing penis downward onto a plate. A formidable cook, she had already prepared the ancillary ingredients for Thicknut Chowder… all that remained was the main ingredient… and a dose of Zelda’s magic.

Ruzilda bent over lewdly and took up a bow-legged stance as she jerked and stroked herself over the plate. Her massive ass-globes and puffy, hairy orcish anus were on full display, for she knew little of modest. Her apron was throw up about her waist to expose her meat. She raised one arm up to twist and knead one nipple, gritting her teeth as she did so - one of her sharp canines poked cutely out over her lip.

“Come on!” Zelda prompted again, raising her chin and crossing her tiny arms over her chest, which contained a pair of breasts that were, proportional to her body, quite large… though still pint-sized as the rest of her. She wore clothing that gave away her status as a mini-succubus - a leotard with space for her tail to emerge from the back, low-cut in the front, and a black tiara that attached around her tiny horns. She also wore thigh-high boots, decorating plump legs. Despite her tiny size, she was older than Ruzilda by perhaps a thousand years. “Get that thick stuff out! Xander’s gonna be pissed if we let these souls slip away!”

“I’m trying!” Ruzilda complained, squirting her eyes shut with concentration. Her hand made wet, greasy fapping noises on her monster penis as she continued to pleasure herself. “Check the lamb!” She looked completely undignified, biting her lip, huffing and puffing, bent over and exposed, but Ruzilda was absolutely committed to her job, and didn’t mind if she looked strange in the performance of her duties. Still, in this particular instance, she was having trouble reaching orgasm… without any prior stimulation or lead-up time, it was harder to bring her big, green cock across the goal line. The new arrivals had come in suddenly.

Zelda huffed and dutifully checked the lamb, which was finishing up with a slight char and would no doubt be fall-off-the-bone delicious. After squeezing a bladder of juiced onto the rotisserie-skewered meat, she took a large wooden ladle and smacked Ruzilda in the butt with it, causing what seemed like acres of bubbly, thick ass-meat to jiggle. “Come on!” she prompted again.

“If you… want me to… go faster…” Ruzilda gasped, still stroking, “you should lend a hand!”

Zelda’s eyes widened as she looked at Ruzilda’s sweaty, puffy dickgirl asshole, which was ringed with a corona of thick black hair. “I’m not going anywhere near that stinkbox!” she whined. 

“Please?”

“No!” Zelda reiterated. “I’m a royal succubus, not some concubine!” She took on a haughty expression, then retrieved a wooden-handled ladle from a rack next to the char-pit. Wincing with dismay, as if the imposition of such an act was beneath her, she poked the handle out and buried it six inches deep in Ruzilda’s wet, commodious, penetration hungry shitter. There was a wet squelching noise as she did so, and the response from the orcess was immediate.

“Yesshhh!” Ruzilda moaned, and her fat balls twitched and sloshed between her legs with the shifting of accumulated, backed-up semen. “That feels… good!”

“I can’t believe I’m reduced to this!” Zelda pouted. “If I hadn’t lost that bet to Xander, I would own this place!”

“Shove it in more!” Ruzilda begged, and again Zelda exhaled an impatient breath, hovering behind Ruzilda’s mighty rump. Unable to gather much leverage in mid-air, she was forced to flap her tiny batwings mightily in order to shove the ladle in as far as it would go.

Ruzilda threw her head back and let her tongue lol out of her mouth. There hadn’t been many visitors to the lodge in recent months… and for that reason, she was extremely backed up. She poised her twitching, dilating dickhole just above the plate as she grunted and sweated her way to orgasm, groping her own huge tits. “Fuuuuuuck!” she growled. “Here it… comes!”

BLRRRP-PPBBBBBTHTHTHT!

Zelda flew around front just in time to hear the obscene, bubbly sound of chowdery sperm pouring out of Ruzilda’s dickhole and onto the plate. The orcess grunted each time a lumpy burst of the stuff emerged, as if it were so nasty and thick it was difficult to pass it. “Fuuuck, it’s… scraping my dick tube on the way out!” she groaned.

Zelda held her nose as an overwhelming smell of cum immediately filled the kitchen, overpowering even the scent of the cooking lamb. “Ugh!” she complained. “This is the stinkiest load yet! How am I supposed to mask that smell?”

“It’s… not my fault!” Ruzilda groaned. “I can’t… help it… uwwaaaagh!” BLRRRPPPPPPPP! A huge cum worm, thick as one of her large fingers, poured out of her cock and splattered down onto the plate, barely losing any of its near-solid shape as it did so. 

“It smells like the cunts of ten whores who just fucked a hill giant!” Zelda gagged. Once the deed was done, it would be her job to at least partially mask the head-dizzying taste and brutal sex stench of Ruzilda’s mega-loads, and turn them into something palatable. Though she was skilled in illusion, and also in the secret introduction of hypnotic, addictive properties, hiding the taste was becoming harder and harder. “I can’t believe some customer out there is going to eat all this nut sauce! It looks more like paste than cum!”

“S-stop making fun of my cum!” Ruzilda growled, panting heavily and milking more sperm out of her cock with long, deliberate strokes. “There’s still… more to go! It’s stuck down in there!”

“Thicker than this?” Zelda gaped. “How am I supposed to hide that? This is going to be the thickest and stinkiest chowder ever served, you big oaf!”

Ruzilda, having lost her patience, reached out with one arm and grabbed Zelda by her tiny waist. Her good nature had its limits, and Zelda had been complaining for weeks. “If you’re not going to help me get it out… I’ll make you!” she growled, and then lifted Zelda over the top of huge penis, poising the fairy-sized succubus at her tip.

“W-wait!” Zelda cried out, wiggling her stubby arms and legs. Her bottom was the largest part of her mini-voluptuous body, but still tiny compared to Ruzilda. “Let’s talk about this! I didn’t mean to make fun of you- nnnnghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhkk”!

Her eyes went wide and then rolled back instantly as Ruzilda used one powerful finger to rip her leotard open, and then simply shoved her tiny body down on her cock, using the fairy as if she were nothing more than a pocket pussy. “Ah, this feels good!” she breathed, stroking her fist up and down and enjoying the feeling of her rampaging prick stretching out Zelda’s guts. It was an old pattern with them - Zelda would complain and boss and kvetch about her role, and Ruzilda would put up with it to a point… until the succubus went too far and awakened her latent orcish dickgirl sexual rage. A sudden and violent use as a dick sleeve would follow… and then they would make up and continue working together again.

In this case, Ruzilda was especially agitated, and she stroked Zelda up and down her cock with exceptional force, enjoying the gut-rearranging tightness and the lewd belly-bulging of her co-worker. Zelda’s ancient body, held together by demonic power, could take the punishment… and much as the tiny, flitting succubus denied it, it was obvious she was getting pleasure out of the encounter herself. More importantly to the task at hand, Ruzilda could feel a great, backed-up churning in her balls… as if mountains of dick-mud were being moved, propelled up from her heavy balls, into her urethra… and then, eventually, onto her customers plates.

“F-fuck! Ah, it’s coming! The thickest load ever!” Ruzilda growled, and then pulled Zelda off of her cock with an audible popping noise, setting her aside on the countertop to twitch and squeak her way through her orgasm’s aftermath. Ruzilda leaned forward over the chowder plate, which was wide but with raised sides to keep the contents in, and cried out mightily as she unloaded what felt like her most virile load in years.

BRPPPPTHTHTHT! The was a liquid, churning, sputtering noise as a gooey, unbroken white worm sprayed out of the tip of her cock, a single unbroken rope of pure sperm that continued for nearly four or five seconds, forming a roughly pyramidal pile on the plate, thicker even that the previous emissions. When it finally ceased, Ruzilda collapsed against the counter, looking down at her work with satisfaction. A veritable feast! Xander would be most pleased. 

Zelda, also on the counter, dragged herself over to the lip of the bowl and looked at what her partner had produced. For a second, she thought she saw strange little white hairs stuck in the mess… but then it dawned on her that these were actually huge, fat-tailed spermatozoa, so loaded with virile, feminizing power that they were visible to the naked eye. “F-fuck,” she groaned. “What a huge, nasty ball-load! You’ve outdone yourself this time.”

“Thanks!” Ruzilda said, and put her hands on her hips, beaming down with pride. “You better put a powerful spell on it… even after I stir it, it might not seem like chowder.” She looked over to the wall, then blinked, and looked around. “Where’s the ladle?”

She paused, then remembered where it had been ‘stored’. And as she retrieved it, she saw the lamb was thoroughly cooked - too thoroughly. It was nearly hanging off the bone… and about to fall into the fire pit!

“Gods damn it!” she yelled, and rushed toward the vulnerable meat, her massive cock bobbing and half-hard between her muscled legs. 

If something about the order was fouled up, Xander would be most displeased.

Terrin raised an eyebrow at the kitchen door as he heard a husky female voice yell ‘gods damn it’ rather loudly. “Problems in the kitchen?” he asked Xander, with his usual joking good humor. It was easy to be in a good mood… with Shia and Ellone’s hands wandering beneath his robe, now directly stroking his cock and cupping his balls. He was tall for an elf, and had a nice piece of equipment for his normally modestly-endowed race. Bigger than the average human, anyway. The girls were referring to this fact with clumsy, airheaded innuendo.

The tiefling’s mouth tightened and he offered a short bow. “Our chef is… a boisterous sort,” he explained. “But I assure you, there is no finer gourmet in either side of the Gargan pass… or in all the Four Kingdoms.”

“She was… doing a lot of grunting and moaning… in there,” Killette piped up, slurring her words slightly. She was on her third large tankard of ale, and was slumped slightly forward against the counter. She giggled slightly. “Sure she ain’t fucking in the kitchen?” Her giggle turned into a guffaw as she laughed at her own joke.

Xander only shook his head, looking scandalized at the idea. “Heavens no, ma’am. Ruzilda would never do something so unseemly. Not in a food preparation area-”

Killette laughed again, belched, and slapped Xander on the shoulder, making the tiefling waver. She was in full tomboy mode, the same relentless and bawdy braggadocio that had served her well in contending with her seven brothers.

“You better get some food in her before she gets too wild,” Terrin quipped, then nibbled his lip as Shia kneaded his nuts and kissed his earlobe. They’re so big , she whispered. Then Ellone from the other side: I bet you could fill us right to the brim . Suffice it to say, after eating - he was absolutely starving after their trek - he would see that his other needs of the body were met.

“Let me just see what the hold up is, hmm?” Xander said. He approached the kitchen door, and just as he opened it, a large, green arm emerged with a steaming bowl of chowder. There were intense whispers, and the tiefling took the bowl with what seemed to be irritation, returning to the bar and placing it in front of Killette.

“My apologies to the gentleman,” she said. “The lamb will be just a few minutes longer.” He looked genuinely stressed about the delay, and Terrin assumed that was just the fastidious perfectionism of a lodge owner. Killette leaned forward and poised her face right above the bowl, inhaling deeply. Terrin could actually see her nostrils dilate. Then, she let out a great sigh of satisfaction.

“This smells amazing!” Killette exclaimed. “And it’s so thick and hearty!” Terrin felt his stomach growl, and the two girls giggled. He watched as Killette took the accompanying spoon and shoveled a brimming, lumpy mass of chowder into her mouth, chewing and savoring with gusto. Instantly, he face was transformed to one of utter satisfaction. Her eyes did everything but turn into heart shapes as she enjoyed the bite, then swallowed thickly.

“Holy halfling shit,” Killette gasped. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted! The bacon, the spices… and there’s some flavor I can’t quite place that just ties it all together!” She shoveled another spoonful into her mouth. Some of the thick chowder clung to the corner of her shapely lips as she dined with a drunkard's imprecision. Terrin was just registering a strange and almost sexual flush to her cheeks when she turned to address him. “Terrin! You have to try this!”

That sounded just fine, and Terrin approached her side. It felt like his stomach would begin eating itself if he didn’t fill it soon, and his lamb had been delayed. As she arrived and took the spoon, however, Xander held out a cautioning hand.

“I’m sorry, this food has been specially formulated for the lady. Similar to the traditional brew of the zenni-shamans, it contains a flavor profile engineered for the taste buds of-”

Terrin waved him off. “It’ll be fine, my friend. I only want to see what the fuss is about.” He dipped his spoon into the thick, off-white chowder, and Xander seemed almost on the verge of panic.

“I have to insist that the gentleman refrain!” he said, forcefully. “The lamb will be out shortly-”

But Terrin had never been one to heed advice from barkeeps and servers, or anyone really - even since his days at the magical college he’d ever been the mischief-maker and contrarian. And so he raised the steaming spoon to his mouth and joked ‘whoops!’ before he popped it inside.

The tiefling cried out “No!” and extended his hand, but it was too slow. Terrin found himself masticating on the most savory, delicious mouthful of chowder he’d ever had. It danced on his taste buds and seemed to coat his mouth; it was so rich and satisfying it instantly dispelled all cold from his head and brought a wonderful warmth to his throat and sinuses. He swallowed, and that feeling of satisfaction followed the food down to his belly. It made his toes curl. It made his heart palpitate. He even felt a tingling deep in his loins!

Terrin made all the sounds you’d expect one to make when savoring something utterly delicious. He made mmmmmmmms . He muttered under his breath. He smacked his lips. And when he looked up from licking the spoon clean, he saw that Xander was looking at him with a sort of wide-eyed apprehension.

“It’s not fair that only women should get to eat this,” Terrin said. “That’s got to be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Xander only looked at him; for some reason the tiefling seemed speechless. Indeed, he was wringing his neat, agile hands.

Killette snatched the spoon away and took her next mouthful, and they passed it back and forth like an opium pipe, alternating spoonfuls. There was still no sign of the lamb, but Terrin didn’t care - the chowder was so delicious, all thought of another meal had been forgotten. It was only minutes before they’d polished off the bowl. And when they both rose, wiping their mouths with satisfaction (Terrin had even forgotten about Shia and Ellone in his single-minded need to fill his belly), Xander was still in his contemplative, hand-wringing pose.

Terrin raised an eyebrow at him. “What with that look?” the elf asked. “Did I violate some custom, or something? Desperate times call for desperate measures, my friend.”

“N-no,” Xander managed. “I’m just… contemplating what the result might be.”

“The result of what?”

If there was an answer, it was interrupted by the kitchen door bursting open, and the emergence of an enormous female orc with long black hair, holding a large, lamb-laden platter with difficulty. It was difficult because her apron-clad breasts were so enormous, they threatened to topple the meat skewer right off of the tray. Wild black hair dazzled in the lantern light as she blundered to the counter.

“Hot stuff, comin’ through!” Ruzilda barked. “Lamb comin’ right up!” Terrin was taken aback. He hadn’t imagined a person could jam so much tits and ass onto a female frame - even a seven-foot one like Ruzilda’s. She was also sweating profusely… and a heavy scent of sweat and sex followed her to the bar. 

“Is this the chef?” Terrin asked. “My compliments - the Thicknut Chowder was superb!”

“You got that right!” Killette slurred, tapping Xander to pour her a fourth drink. 

Ruzilda actually blushed at the compliment, demurely putting her hands behind her back for a moment. “Aw, shucks! It was no big deal! I had a bunch saved up!” Then, she opened her piercing blue eyes and blinked, looking from Killette to Terrin, before addressing the elf. “Wait… you didn’t eat the chowder, did you?”

Terrin chuckled. “I did. I’m not one for following rules.”

“But it’s filled with- huh?” Ruzilda was cut off as Xander cleared his throat and gestured that she should return to the kitchen. 

“The finest ingredients,” Xander clarified. 

Terrin shrugged and leaned against the counter. The warmth of the meal was still radiating inside him. Delicious! “Well, whatever is in it - I’ll have another bowl, and a room!” He plunked a fistful of gold pieces down on the counter.  “I need to fortify myself before I take these two lovely ladies to my room and get to know them better.”

Shia giggled. Elonne giggled. And Xander, hesitating for a moment, shrugged and pocketed the coin. “Ruzilda!” he called after his cook. “Another bowl!”

“Are you sure, boss?” came the muffled retort.

“Yes,” Xander called back. “If nothing else… it will be interesting.”

Something strange happened to Terrin that night - something he would have never expected. It was no secret that back in Alcara City he’d been a legendary flirt and pussy-hound; he’d used his chiseled, fair-skinned elven features and flowing blonde locks to charm a good number of maidens, taking more than a few of them to bed. And at such times, his penis had been as reliable as the sun rising over the belfry at Alcara Abbey.

He’d had no reason to expect different when he’d fortified himself with a double-helping of chowder and then made his way upstairs with Shia and Ellone on his arm, leaving Killette to drink herself silly at the bar. The large and rectangular massage table in the second floor room was padded and comfortable, and the purring, doting, giggling girls didn’t waste any time in putting it to use. Shia oiled up her massive breasts, kneading her hanging, heavy tits with two hands until they were reflecting the lantern light, and Ellone did the same to the wide, round bottom that was her short, compact body’s most distinguishing feature.

They removed his robe, ignoring his jokes, single-minded in their purpose. Their boss, Xander, was insistent that male travelers be shown the finest hospitality. And thus, Terrin of Alcara City, mage extraordinaire, found himself flat on his back, with Shia between his legs, using her massive, hanging tits to oil his pelvis and thighs… and Ellone, swinging a leg over his head, rubbing her bulging, clapping ass-globes on his chest.

It was heaven - a sight unequaled by any other. Even his occasional glimpses of Killette’s fit, taut body rising from a hot spring - glimpses for which he was taking his life into his hands to get - couldn’t compare to the overflowing sexuality of the two girls. They didn’t stop at using their breasts and buttocks, either. They licked up and down his body with their mouths, lounging atop him and straddling him. Ellone planted her massive ass in his face while she licked and sucked his nipples; Shia licked submissively between his toes. They nuzzled against his sides and rubbed their faces in his underarms like affectionate cats. They nibbled his earlobes, sucked his fingers, and took turns smothering his face - Shia with her breasts, Ellone with her steaming hot, sky-darkening ass and completely hairless, wet pussy!

It all should have resulted in the biggest hardon in the history of elf-human relations. But when it came time for the main course, Terrin found himself only half-hard, and maybe not even that. Flanking him on either side of his hips, the girls seemed confused by his state, and they took turns pulling and milking his prick and balls with exquisite handjobs… to no good effect! Much to Terrin’s embarrassment, he was limp as a noodle… and indeed, the testicles that the girls had so breathily complimented at the bar seemed, for some reason, to be experiencing shrinkage, as one might after emerging from a cold pool of water. 

“What’s wrong?” Shia said, pouting. Her puffy, inflated lips - no doubt treated with some sort of magic to make them plump - made her look like even more the sex doll. “Don’t you like us?”

“O-of course!” Terrin explained. “It’s the long day of travel, and the ale!” But he hadn’t had much ale with dinner. Just that strangely addicting chowder. 

“I think I know what to do,” Shia said, winking. She nodded at Ellone, and together, they gripped his thighs and lifted, tilting him back onto his head and neck in a rather embarrassing pose - his penis hanging against his pubis, pointed directly at his face… while his anus was totally exposed!

“W-wait!” Terrin objected, but the girls clearly had no intention of waiting. Ellone spit on his asshole and the two of them used their fingers to rub around the rim. And as they did so, Terrin did feel something, something much stronger than he’d felt from the handjob or all their other teasing. A bolt of pleasure shot through him and his eyes went wide.

The girls giggled again. “Ooh, he likes it!” Ellone said. Her voice was so high and childlike, it was like being in the room with a songbird. “I guess he’s that sort of guy!” And before Terrin could object to that characterization - she’d leaned forward and started licking around his anus with her tongue, intensifying the pleasure tenfold! Terrin could only moan as a tiny, young elf-maiden, who was barely a stripling at a hundred-eighty years old but looked perhaps a hundred-forty, licked, kissed, and sucked his ass.

“Suck a pretty, pink asshole,” Ellone purred. “Like a girl!” She planted another probing, wet kiss… and then, amazingly, they went cheek to cheek and buried both of their tongue-tips in his hole. Terrin flailed like an overturned turtle as he was serviced. On one hand, he didn’t know what to make of it. Did his asshole look like a girl’s? He had no idea - he had never seen his own asshole after all. But there was no doubt it felt… it felt…

“It’s working!” Shia giggled, wiping her mouth. “He’s getting all hard!”

And so he was - though to his eye, his erection looked somehow less sturdy than others he remembered. In any case, the girls had identified his weak point - one that, prior to that day, Terrin would have sworn he didn’t have. Thus, his asshole became the focus of the ‘massage’. They kissed it. They licked it. Eventually, they moved on to sliding their slender fingers into his hole and giggling at his reactions as they poked around. And most of all, they buried their tongues as deep as they could in his ass and wiggled them around, making him moan again and again.

Terrin ended up having many orgasms that night, just as he’d planned, but they were vexing in the way they came. Indeed, the first climax he reached, with Shia jerking his cock and sucking his smooth balls, and Elonne licking deep in his ass, he ended up shooting off all over his own face! And it was not the typical burst of semen that he might have expected, either, but rather a long stream of thin cum, that as the orgasms progressed grew less and less substantial.

A dozen times he tried to object, and a dozen times he was halted by the increasingly pleasurable sensations in his asshole, which the girls had broken in enough to use two fingers. They seemed to find endless amusement in his moans and seething breaths, and chuckled at his expense as each new act of anal adventure drew a greater and greater response. “Ooh!” Shia purred after one light, watery orgasm leaked down her wrist. “He’s squirting like a girl!”

That wasn’t the only reference to such things, either. Throughout the encounter, they mentioned that his bottom was round and soft, like a girl (was it?) and that his moans were rather effeminate (were they?). Halfway through, they noticed his nipples were sensitive, and added that to the list, taking pleasure in sucking and pinching and rubbing them.

Terrin could not precisely say he didn’t enjoy it… he came five or six times in the slow, two-hour session… but it was definitely not what he expected, and when he disembarked the massage table and rolled into bed in one of the provided rooms, it was with a throbbing, pleasurable ache in his ass, and consternation on his mind. 

His last thought before falling asleep was that he wouldn’t admit to Killette how the encounter had gone - after their departure, he would claim, of course, that he had plowed both of the wenches silly with his turgid elf-member. That… and how he could go for another bowl of that delicious chowder.

Terrin woke up the next morning unaware that anything had changed. He had slept in his robe, and scarcely gave himself a glance as he rose and wiped the sleep from his eyes. His long blonde hair was an explosive tangle. He would brush it… but first, breakfast. And maybe a little hair of the dog. 

Bleary-eyed, he stumbled out into the hall, and ran directly into Killette, who was clutching a blanket over herself and staring at him fiercely. He didn’t even have time to greet her before she reached out one arm fiercely and grabbed his lapel, taking care to hold up her blanket. He sensed she was half-dressed under it.

“What did you do ?” she seethed, her amber eyes as intent as he had ever seen them. “Do you think this is funny?” She shook him with one arm and his feet caught on the bottom of his robe, which was dragging on the ground for some reason. Terrin realized that Killette was looking him directly in the eye as she made her accusation. But that should have been impossible. He was nearly a foot taller than her.

“This is no time for your stupid jokes!” she went on. “I told you I’d kill you if you ever cast a spell on me-”

But then her voice trailed off mid-rant. She looked him up and down, incredulous, her eyes widening with a dawning realization.

“Terrin… you’ve…”

“What?” Terrin peered at Killette’s face. She’d always been beautiful, but something had changed. Her eyelashes were longer, he saw, and her mouth more pert, the lips much more full. “Wait, your lips-”

“ My lips? What about you?”

Terrin blinked. “What about me?” he echoed. His ears registered something wrong with his voice, as if it were from another person’s mouth.

“Have you looked at yourself, you idiot?!” Killette blurted, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t hard at work holding up her blanket. “Have you heard yourself? Your voice? Your skin? The line of your jaw-”

Terrin pawed over his own face to confirm the report, and felt not only a perfectly smooth complexion but a less pronounced jaw that felt totally alien! He rubbed his fingers around his eyes and felt long lashes. He looked at his hands and saw they were smaller, the fingers were dainty, and the nails long. This naturally led him to look straight down. He could not see his feet. Only the swell of… of…

Terrin’s mouth fell open. His hands scrambled for his robe and pulled it off over his head, revealing what the shape beneath had suggested: 

Where once had been the gracefully-muscled chest of an elven male… now hung a pair of absolutely massive tits! They were huge and indecent as anything - the sort of jugs that would cause one man to elbow his fellow and snicker out a bawdy joke. Each one was far larger than his head, and would require two hands to begin to lift. The nipples were pink and raised and fat, and covered in bumpy pores.

Terrin let out a high-pitched peep. Not the enraged cry of a man, looking to avenge an indignity… but the warbling cry of a whore who had just taken an unexpected dick in the ass. Looking down through his newfound cleavage, he saw that the bad news was only getting started. How many mornings had he rolled from his bed with his cock sticking stiffly up, the morning after-effect of a night of debauchery? And hadn’t that sensation been strangely absent on this day?

The explanation was plain to see. Instead of the trustypenis that had served him in so many brothels… his pubis was dominated with a phat pussy mound and a tuft of soft, blonde pubic hair! He moved a hand to verify that it was no illusion, and found that brushing against his newfound lady-parts created an intense sensation of pleasure… which in turn led to more high-pitched, unfamiliar moans.

“I didn’t do this!” Terrin objected. To say he objected would not properly describe it, for it was rather that she objected, in a high-pitched and melodic voice that was similar to the airheaded tones of Shia and Ellone. Terrin looked on each side, trying to get a full understanding of the scope of the changes. The newly-transformed elf turned, craned his neck, and whirled about in a state of gasping denial. In doing so, he felt something clap lewdly behind him.

Terrin slid his hands down his side and to his rear, and gasped at what he found there. The cheeks poured through his fingers. His ass was bigger than Ellone’s! It was massive. It was the sort of lewd, cock-erecting, dick-devouring dumper that bards played lewd ballads about after midnight. He could literally feel it wobble and bounce with his every movement. 

“Hounds of the Abyss!” Killette exclaimed, wide-eyed, as Terrin spun around. “Does mine look like that?”

Feeling impotent and frustrated, Terrin reached out and snatched Killette's blanket. Sure enough, as he yanked the fur-lined coverlet to the floor, his suspicions were confirmed - Killette’s body had changed during the night as well - so thoroughly, in fact, that she hadn’t even been able to put her leggings and armor on! Killette was still cinnamon-skinned and dark-haired, but otherwise transformed just as Terrin had been… though she had, of course, had much of the equipment to begin with. 

“Alcara save me,” Terrin breathed. It was a sight to behold. Killette was trying in vain to cover herself, but never before had a gesture seemed so useless. As recently as the prior evening, she’d had a flat chest befitting her tomboy status - small enough that her pectoral muscles were more prominent than her breasts, anyway - and she’d worn this lack of bosom with something close to pride, bragging that it would only get in the way of her swinging her broadsword.

Now… well, there was no decorous way to put it. The formerly athletic Killette had a pair of enormous, hanging, fat-pored, rubbery-nipped, caramel-skinned tit tanks hanging from her chest. Just as large as Terrin’s. And like Terrin’s, they were too indecent to be referred to simply as breasts. They were fuck udders . Suck jugs . Massive, milk-sloshing balloons . The nipples were the size of tea saucers. The underside of each mammoth endowment hung weightily beneath her breastbone, all the way down to her navel. It was absurd to see her trying to cover them with her arms - the tanned flesh of her wrists did little but sink into the bulging volume of her titflesh, allowing it to spill out, over and under.

“They’re huge!” Terrin gasped. It was all he could think to say. Killette flushed and barred her teeth at him. 

“Yours are just as big, you fool!” she growled, which would have normally been intimidating. But now… it was impossible to take her seriously. Her breasts weren’t the only change. Her hips were wider. Her lips were plumper, her eyelashes longer. Her muscle tone was softer. Terrin saw with amazement that even her hair had grown slightly overnight, as if it were sprouting out in frank rebellion against her tomboyish nature, and reclaiming her as a bimbo concubine.

We’re just like Shia and Ellone , he thought. And there was something else, something he didn’t dare give voice to. Looking at Killette’s indecent body, as much of a cooze-hound as he had been in every other day of his long elven life, he’d felt attraction not as a male… but in imagining the thick and virile penises that might be stuffed into every one of her orifices… and his own!

“Stop staring at me!” Killette wailed, and slapped Terrin on one of his thick, heavy tits. The elf expected a sting, and got it… but also a surprising feeling of pleasure… as if getting his bimbo tits slapped was now his body’s main purpose!

This embarrassed him and he lashed out. “It’s not my fault, you… overgrown boob dragon!” Terrin replied, and poked his hand out into one of her nipples. He felt his finger sink into the bouncy, porous flesh, and Killette’s eyes crossed with pleasure as she dropped to her knees, crying out.

“Oh… gods…” she gasped, breathing hard, her whole body quivering. One look at her sex revealed she was leaking down her thighs with arousal… a state that Terrin had never expected to see her in. “W-what’s… happened to us?”

Terrin’s had an idea, but it was lost in the strange stupor of pleasure and desire that seemed to come with his new body. The truth seemed to dance in between cravings that he could barely articulate… and would never mention out loud. Before he could answer the question of his longtime companion… a cultured voice came from down the stairs.

“Excuse me, young masters - but breakfast is being served at the bar, if you would care to come down. I believe your situation will become quite clear.” Xander’s voice. Whatever their lot, it seemed likely he was the architect. He paused, and added: “There is no need to dress first.”

Terrin met Killette’s gaze, and saw a hunger in it he barely recognized. There was something alluring about Xander’s invitation, and the idea of breakfast. He knew she was feeling it as strongly as he.

Together, in bare feet, totally nude, they walked down the stairs with their fat tits wobbling in unison and their bubbly, thick butt-cheeks clapping with each step. What they saw did nothing to dispel the strangeness of the morning. Xander was at the bar - flanked by Shia and Ellone, who were on their knees. He still wore his foppish dress above the waist, but below it he was bare - and Ellone was sucking rhythmically and dutifully on his long, fat, devilishly red penis. Shia sucked the fingers of his right hand.

Next to him at the bar was an enormous orcish female… or at least, she looked female in all ways except for the absolutely gargantuan penis hanging down past her knee. Terrin estimated it had to be nearly two feet long, and thick around as his calf muscle. Just seeing it caused such an explosion of hunger and need in his belly and newly cheeked-up ass that at first it felt like the desires belonged to some other person… as if he was possessed. He glanced at Killette and saw that she was feeling it too… she was nearly drooling, staring at that cock.

Beside the orc flittered a strange, bat-winged mini-succubus, who was quite voluptuous… for being only one-foot tall. It was this strange newcomer that floated out to where ‘breakfast’ was being served… not at the bar… but on the floor. An ornate bowl, like a fancy dog-dish, was placed approximately five paces in front of the bar, and Terrin had a good idea who it was for. There was plenty of space to prostrate oneself before it… and consume whatever was inside.

“Thank you for joining us, our most honored guests,” Xander announced, grandly. “By now, you must have realized that Thicknut Lodge is a very special place, and by partaking in our food, you have burdened yourself with the great honor and responsibility of becoming Soul Collectors.”

“S-Soul Collectors?” Terrin said, numbly. His voice sounded so high and alien! The words spilled out through lips that felt moist and plump and suck-ready. He watched as Xander grunted slightly, gripped Ellone’s head with two hands, and unloaded his cum deep in her throat. The volume was so great that some splattered down her chin. After she swallowed four or five times, he pulled out and blasted several fan ropes across her eyes, nose, and cheeks - though he was dignified even in that act. Ellone purred and obediently took it all, swallowing as much as she could.

Terrin swallowed. He couldn’t take his eyes away from it.

“Yes, Soul Collectors,” Xander verified, gesturing to Shia. “Shia, a cleanup blowjob if you please, while I explain the rules of this establishment to our guests.” Shia went right to work. The prior day, Terrin would have been dazzled and envious of a man with such an obedient harem… and eager to partake himself. But now he, and Killette too, couldn’t help looking at Xander’s cock. Big, thick, long, and astonishingly virile.

His taut, graceful belly rumbled. He felt an ache inside - the awakening of a womb that hadn’t been present until that morning. He had never in his life been interested in men… despite all the jokes about elven male proclivities. But now… now…

“It will be your duty to see to the male travelers who find this place in their time of need, and provide them any sexual favor they wish… drawing them all-unknowing into a bargain for their very essence.” He shook his head and chuckled. “This was to be your fate, Mister Terrin… if I should still call you ‘Mister’. However, as you now must realize, certain of our menu items are used to recruit female travelers into the ranks of our staff… and by partaking in those, you now find yourself a concubine.” He drew in a breath and shook his head again. “I must admit, I had no idea what would happen. But the results seem satisfactory.”

“She looks great, boss!” chirped the mini-succubus. “Look at those massive tits and that big fat dumper! I bet she can take all sorts of cock - probably even more than Ellone and Shia! And you know how all the rough and rugged types love those soft, elfish sorts.”

Terrin blinked numbly. She. The term seemed to fit, and mentally, the elf couldn’t help but slide into it, as one is drawn inexorably to something that is unwanted, but destined all the same.

She.  

She felt a sort of bimbo haze falling over her. Killette was beside her, wearing the same slack expression. Terrin had been a man, and Killette tomboyish enough to count as one. But now- 

“Don’t worry about acclimating to your new jobs, even if you are inexperienced in servicing men. Your changing bodies will have properties in this regard, which will only deepen and grow as you continue to dine.” He gestured toward the bowls. “Now, Ruzilda will provide you with this morning’s meal… if you’ll take up your positions.

The towering orcess vaulted the bar with ease and walked over to the bowl with a smile that showed off her pointy canines - in spite of the strange situation, she seemed affable and good-natured. Terrin and Killete walked forward as if in a dream, then lowered themselves until they were crawling on their hands and knees.

What am I doing? Why am I doing this?

The thought was growing distant, fading away. Terrin felt his round, bubbly ass-cheeks wobble as she swung his hips and squirmed his way up to the bowl. His tits were so massive, they dragged on the floor. Killete flanked him, and they found themselves cheek-to-cheek, staring up at Ruzilda’s hanging, cum-leaking, sweaty she-dick. It was an intimacy Terrin had secretly longed for with his companion… in another life. 

“Here you go,” Ruzilda grunted, and started to milk her pipe in slow, squeezing strokes, taking up a lewd and bow-legged stance. Her mighty, perspiration-soaked balls drew up as wad started to blow out of her dickhole as if poured from a pitcher… in fat, chunky dollops. Terrin, drawn close to the bowl, groaned as the stench of cum wafted upward. 

SPLOOOORRRT. SPLUUURRRRP. SPLLRRRRCH . Ruzilda was pumping out a massive load, totally filling their bowl. The chunky ropes of sperm were so virile,, they barely lost any shape as they piled atop each other. 

“Gods… what a thick, disgusting load,” Killette moaned… but her eyes were fixated on it, and her tongue dancing on her lips. “It’s… so foul. No… if we… if we do this, I’ll forever be-” Her voice broke off, and she looked to Terrin. Each saw the naked hunger in the eyes of the other. They had long been partners, doing everything together. 

“I guess… it’s okay,” Killette moaned. “If… we both do it. Right, Terrin?” She giggled in un-Killette fashion, a brainless bimbo.

Terrin giggled back.

She giggled back.
She fluttered her eyelashes.
She licked her lips.
She felt the heat in her pussy and the ache in her womb at the sight of such a virile, impregnating cum-load.

Together, they lowered their faces into the steaming, cum-choked bowl like hogs at a trough, slurping up jizz. Chewing and swallowing with mindless, pleasure-addled faces, their thick, round asses in the air, backs arched, holes exposed. Taking great mouthfuls of hot, spunky ball-sauce down to their stomachs. Using it to nourish their newfound concubinage.

Soon, swallowing sperm was all they cared about. And so when Xander moved behind Killette and buried his deep red cock into her soaking cunt, she came instantly - even though she had never been with a man before. 

As for Terrin, her puffy, newly-formed pussy was given a baptism by fire - the fat labia stretched wide by Ruzilda’s brutal, womb-flattening she-dick. The blowhard who had once bragged about bedding wenches to anyone who would listen, would henceforth spend her wind on enthusiastically begging for cock, for thick loads of cum, to be permitted to suck balls and lick ass and have her mouth, pussy, tits, and ass fucked. 

Terin and Killette, new concubines of Thicknut Lodge, orgasmed over and over again, lost in pleasure. And in the days of initiation and training that followed, not one lamentation was heard for their adventures of days past. 

EPILOGUE

Whop. Whop. Whop.

Terrin’s thick ass clapped down on the bandit leader’s thighs as she rode him, planting her feet on either side of the burly warrior’s thighs and dropping down to let nearly a foot of meat dig into her pink, puffy, inviting asshole. The elf, now looking every bit the sex toy bitch, was dressed in crotchless dancer’s silks and a veil, and her thick, porous, rubbery nipples pierced with heavy-gauge gold rings.

“Your big dick feels so good in my ass,” she tittered to the bearded giant, giggling and licking his ear. “Please give me a lot of cum, okay?”

“By the gods, your slut hole is good,” the leader growled vulgarly, then gripped Terrin around the waist and started to thrust upward. “I’ll use you as my personal toilet!” The blonde elfmaiden threw back her head and started to moan. Brutal men with big cocks were her favorite, and when new visitors arrived, she competed fiercely for their attention.

Thicknut Lodge was boisterous with activity with the arrival of Argal’s Warband, fresh out of a blizzard and into their saving grace. Shia and Ellone were working their magic with the leader’s lieutenants, and workmanlike Killette was handling the rank and file. Having grown out her hair in a long, brown ponytail, Terrin’s former running mate was sprawled back over a table, with one man fucking her throat, one in her cunt, and two men gripping her absurdly massive tits with two hands, angling their cocks into at the nipple and stabbing their flesh inside - obviously to her great pleasure.

“Take my load in your tit-pussy, whore!” growled one of the men, and he came in unison with his counterpart. Terrin watched, panting and bouncing, as they flooded her milk ducts with seed, then vacated their positions. After taking the third man’s load in her throat, Killette brought her huge breast to her mouth, licking and sucking out the cum that had been pumped inside.

That was how it had gone for them in the prior year, and Terrin felt a sense of deja vu as the bandit leader gripped her tight and hilted his brutal, ass-wrecking prick as deep as he could. It was no problem to take it after practicing with Ruzilda, and Terrin orgasmed as well, squirting all over the leader’s sweaty, virile balls, moaning out as she felt her asshole get flooded with hot cream. Through half-lidded eyes, she watched the bandits fuck and degrade and violate Killette as they wished.

We were like them once, right? Visitors?

Who could remember. She felt herself shift as the bandit leader, still with his cock in her ass, hoisted her up like a child and carried her over to Killette. He saw Xander, at the bar, casually polishing a glass. The souls of the bandits would no doubt be of great value to him. He saw Ruzilda and Zelda, peeking out of the kitchen at the orgy. As the bandits had no female members, they were not needed.

“Let’s give this whore another drink!” the bandit leader roared, and a great cheer went up. He pulled his cock from Terrin’s asshole with the admonishment that the elf should hold the load inside him… and then placed him up on the table, on the balls of his feet… squatting her thick, well-fucked dumper over Killette’s weary face.

“Have your dinner out of your friend’s fat ass, bitch!” was the next bellow, and Terrin looked down at Killette, seeing the same expression of addled cock-addiction that was on her own face. Killette reached up and spread his cheeks, sinking her fingers into the bubbly flesh, exposing her asshole.

“Do it,” she moaned. “I want cum. I love cum!”

A memory flooded back to Terrin then, from somewhere deep. The two of them, in different bodies, in a different time. Joking, laughing… sharing a short flirtatious glance that Killette would later deny. And then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and Terrin’s eyes rolled back into a lewd expression of pleasure.

PBTHTHTHTHTHHHTHTT!

The blonde elf-whore moaned as she unloaded straight into Killette’s hungry mouth with a thick, nasty load of sperm, straight from her asshole. The feeling of the rugged, thick flow pouring out made her cum, as did the chugging, swallowing sound of her former partner consuming every drop. 

She gasped, and a half-lidded, brainless bimbo smile crawled over her face as she voided her cum-stuffed bowels into Killette. 

Whatever they’d had, she thought, it could have felt as good as working at Thicknut Lodge.