Chapter Two

ELENA

I peered through the brush, the pine needles tickling my face. The morning sun cast speckled rays through the green canopy, and bathed my target in a golden aura. I supposed the man was beautiful. His face was chiseled with elegant features, his hair was a mess of blond, and his body was bronze and lean, toned to perfection. His ears came to points in the elven fashion, but his stature was more human. He lounged nakedly in the clearing, dipping his toes in the babbling stream and plucking idly at the grass. He seemed the picture of nonchalance, but I knew better. When his eyes connected with mine, he knew as well.

“I should’ve known Adarian would send you.” The incubus laughed. It was a jolly sound, rich and baritone. It might’ve made another girl weak in the knees.

“You’re not as subtle as you once were, Verto.” I said keeping my arrow notched as I exited the brush.

“I know, I got lazy.” Verto pouted his full lips.

“Where is she?” I asked, stopping ten paces away.

“Lydia!” Verto called over his shoulder. From the forest, a dawn-elf emerged. She had sun-kissed skin, red hair, sharp features, and dazzling green eyes. She was naked, and her nubile body was a feast of slender curves and supple creases. She hardly acknowledged me, and instead devoted her adoring attention to her captor. But Verto hadn’t taken his eyes off me, and smirked triumphantly when I felt the color rush to my cheeks.

“I swear Ranger Straltaira, if I but had a single breast, you’d never be able to resist me.”

“If you had but a single brain, maybe you’d be able to escape me.” I said, levelling the arrowhead at his neck. Lydia predictably leapt to the defense of her master, sprawling her teenage body over his and screaming bloody murder.

“Good god shut her up!” I hissed, my eyes dancing around the edge of the clearing. There were far greater threats than incubi this far into the Great Forest. Verto silenced his paramour with a touch of his fingers, and her body turned liquid against his. If I was being honest, I envied the power.

“You’ve always been fair with me, Ranger Straltaira.” Verto said, keeping himself shielded with his captive, “I never take from The Highlands, but I still need to feed. You understand, right?”

“I don’t begin to understand you.” I said, keeping up my cautious advance.

“Are you going to take me in this time?” Verto asked, tactfully situating himself behind the dawn-elf.

“You knew the rules.”

“Her kind and yours are hardy the same.” Verto insisted.

“She’s still an elf.”

“Your kind only make that distinction when it’s convenient.” Verto sneered, “The dawn-bloods live in these woods; they rejected your sovereignty!”

“I’m not here for a political debate, Verto. You’re coming with me.”

“I’m not going back to Castle Thorum.” Verto said darkly. Lydia plastered herself to her lover, her possessed eyes staring without fear into mine. Her legs tensed as I neared, poised to leap at me. I knew she’d fight tooth and nail for Verto; I’d seen the savagery incubi slaves were capable of when pressed by their masters. I stopped five paces away, and steadied my aim.

“Are you going to resist me?” I asked Verto. The implication wasn’t lost on him. Yes, I had been fair with the incubus, fairer than most rangers would have been, but I had my limits. Verto narrowed his eyes, the round pupils turning to their true slits. I slowly elevated my steadying hand, my fingers tensed about the drawn string. He’s a monster. I thought, He’s a mindless beast undeserving of mercy. But even in my most callous mindset, I could not convince myself of it. I took no joy in what I was about to do.

An eagle screeched overhead, cutting through the air like a knife. My eyes darted upward, catching sight of the avian as it neared. Its head was laden with a green cowl, and its talons clutched a wooden tube. It circled the three of us, then descended. I took five steps back from Verto and his guardian, and lowered my bow to raise an arm. The eagle perched on the proffered limb, and I retrieved the message from its talons. I read it. I read it again. I read it a third time, hoping vainly that my eyes were deceiving me, but no, they were keener than they’d ever been.

“Ranger?” Verto asked. I never answered his question. I turned from the incubus and his victim, and sprinted into the forest without a look back. Yavara.

YAVARA

I was in a chair. No, it was a stool, akin to a barstool. I was naked, seated demurely upon the stool with stiff royal posture. Before me was a body-length mirror, its frame wrought-iron and imposing, its glass reflecting my blue eyes, blonde hair, soft features and perfect curves. Blackness was all around me, amorphous shadows tickling my periphery, but I was not afraid. I felt… right.

I’m dreaming. I thought.

You are, a familiar voice answered, but the mind and reality are not separate. For thoughts bring pain and pleasure as assuredly as the touch of another.

There was a face behind me in the reflection. It was beautiful, angular and fierce, canvased with bronze flesh, maned with black hair, and adorned with blazing orange eyes. It seemed familiar, but I did not know why. Orange eyes? An elf with dark skin and black hair? Where had I heard of such a thing? I felt the press of her body against mine, and my mind went numb. Her flesh was supple and warm, her breasts pillowing softly against my shoulder-blades, her belly radiating into my back. My stiff posture failed, and I succumbed to the lassitude her touch compelled, falling into her with a soft cry. She laughed sweetly, threateningly, a sound that leaked into my ear and melted into my consciousness. Desire swelled with in me, hot and desperate. I mewled for her, shifting my hips in a whorish dance upon the stool, looking up at my molester with big, begging eyes.

Please! I thought.

What do you want, Yavara? The woman smiled, amusement sparkling in her eyes.

You. I hissed, arching my back to present my body, hope brimming from my face.

Me? The woman laughed. I was no longer seated upon the stool, but in her lap upon a great black throne. The mirror before us revealed my vulnerable perch; my thicker legs straddled about her slender ones, my back resting upon her torso, my head lying placidly upon her shoulder. I became aware that I was exposing myself to her, and the sight of my blushing wet womanhood caused an odd surge of shame to subdue my desire. I closed my legs. Noble women do not sit with open legs; it’s improper.

I thought you wanted me? The woman whispered teasingly in my ear.

Who are you? I managed to ask.

Me. The woman’s tongue grazed my earlobe, Us. Her hand slithered between my shut thighs, You.

What? My mind was fevered. Fear, desire, propriety, lechery, shame, lust; they mingled with the jumbled hurricane of my thoughts. There was a dichotomy to me, a splitting of myself into selves. I could feel it becoming more pronounced with every second.

You are a so confused, Yavara. The woman’s voice sounded sorrowful. Her elegant hands slid down the crease of my thighs, compelling me open them.

No! I cried, battling the part of me that coveted her touch more than anything. Her orange eyes glimmered in the mirror, assessing my splayed nudity. Shameful, so shameful to be like this. Part of me loved the shame. And as much as I detested to be so intimately weak, that same part of me delighted in my captivity. What would this woman do to me? I was so helpless to stop her. But the woman did not touch my flower, much to my combined relief and disappointment. Her hands followed the wrinkle of my thighs, passing the slit between. Her smile grew devious over my shoulder, and my eyes went wide.

Her fingers traversed my crack, spread me open, and exposed my lewd button. It was dilated and swollen, and so tender to her touch. She circled my anus with a single finger, and I couldn’t help myself. My hips circled with it, my body dancing to the touch of her, compelled like a puppet. My eyes drooped in surrender, and my teeth pressed into my lip.

So much confusion, the woman’s voice was tender now, like a mother’s whisper, so much uncertainty. But it all goes away now, doesn’t it? This feels so right to you.

Yes. I said breathily, reaching back to spread myself, praying for her penetration.

A princess of the Highlands, a prim maiden of propriety and honor. The woman chuckled, You are not that, Yavara. You’re a debased slut who wants nothing more than to be fucked hard from where you shit. You’ll let anyone have a turn, just so long as they give you what you crave.

Yes! I screamed it now, begging with my body, I’m a shameful anal whore! Please fuck my slutty asshole! Oh, my rim was twitching now, coiling and dilating with every caress of her finger. It was tortuous, unbearable, and so good. The strength vanished from my legs, and I sprawled languorously across the woman’s lap, unable to continue my needful dance, stuck paralytically in a state of unending desire. When my eyes refocused, my reflection revealed that they were orange, the same orange as the woman’s, and there was a streak of black corrupting my blonde hair, the same black as the woman’s.

This is you now, Yavara. The woman’s voice was a whisper in my head, Stuck between your two selves, teetering at the brink. One side of you is Princess Tiadoa, daughter of The Highlands; this side is a lie. It is who you think you should be.

And the other side? I didn’t care what her answer was. I just needed to be invaded.

Me. The woman pushed her entire hand inside me, Us. I screamed in abject agony and ecstasy, You. I lost my mind. When it came back to me before my waking moments, the dream had been forgotten.

The sound of songbirds woke me from my deep slumber. I sat up from the make-shift bed of elk hide Brock had prepared for me the night before, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I was still naked and covered with the evidence of the previous night’s passion, and was glad to see that Brock had thoughtfully left a wet cloth beside my bed. My dress was torn to shreds and covered in dirt and dried fluids, but Brock had left she-orc clothing next to the cloth. I put on the garb after washing myself, only to realize that these “clothes” were barely more than leather straps. They effectively hid my areolas and vaginal lips, but nothing more, and the loin strap was completely swallowed by my backside. I sighed as I hooked the belt through a punched hole.

I guess orc women don’t believe in modesty.

Brock laid next to me, his muscled torso rising and falling with deep, loud snores. I could tell he was having a good dream, because his massive gift stood in defiance of the morning. I admired the sight, fondly recounting the night before. I’d been raped; horrifically, violently violated, and I’d loved it. There was no lingering mental trauma, nor even an ounce of regret in me. There was only a small touch of shame that I’d so easily thrown my pride to the wind; I should’ve made him work harder for it. Oh, what pleasures Brock had forced into me with this very tool, and it was mine, mine if I wanted it! I’d always been adventurous, and my new lascivious nature compelled me to bold action.

I crawled over to my breakfast, my hips swaying behind me like some jungle cat stalking her prey. My hands gently moved up his inner thighs, enjoying the contours of his muscles before reaching his balls. I cradled them in both my hands, gently massaging them, and stifling a giggle when Brock moaned in his sleep. My hands worked their way to the head of his penis, where white precum frothed deliciously. I lubricated my hands with it, taking a moment to lick some from my finger, closing my eyes to savor the taste. I began stroking his cock with one hand as my other massaged his heavy orbs, taking care not to wake him just yet.

This is so much fun! I thought with glee.

You know what to do. My lecherous counterpart answered. I grinned.

My lips trembled with excitement as I lowered them to his head, my mouth watering. I carefully wrapped my lips around his crease, making sure my grip was air-tight before I began my consumption. I took him inch by inch until I reached my throat, tonguing the underside of his shaft with wriggling massages.

Time to wake up, Brock!

I forced his thick cock past the resistance of my throat, deep into my esophagus. I suppressed a gag before continuing downward until I could feel his soft balls resting on my chin. I savored the feeling of him inside of me, the smell of sex that still wafted from his loins, lingering from the night before. I looked up to see Brock’s eyes opening, their black irises staring back at me.

“Queen Yavara,” Brock murmured through a hoarse moan, “you are the born ruler of Alkandra; you do not need to suck on the lowly cock of some orc chieftain anymore.”

I knew the stories; they were children’s tales meant to scare elflings lest they wander into the Great Forest. A reincarnated dark-elf of terrible power, hell-bent on vengeance against the Highland Kingdom. It was absurd, but it didn’t surprise me that simple tribesmen held the story as prophecy, waiting for a scion to deliver them from obscurity. But we were a thousand years from the days of Alkandi the Terrible, and I had no interest in roleplaying this morning. I slowly withdrew from Brock, my lips still sealed tightly, a vulgar sucking sound accompanying a low moan that ascended from my chest. I placed Brock’s upon my face, the shaft resting on my cheek while my fingers toyed with his swollen head.

“I am no Queen, Brock. I am a princess of the Highlands, and after my fun is over here,” I smiled seductively while slowly stroking his shaft, “I will return there, and figure out what mad wizard put such a curse on me.”

I crawled up Brock’s legs, my left hand still gently grasping his cock. I straddled him, my right hand tracing the ripples of his muscled chest. I pushed the she-orc strap that covered my openings to the side, but left the “bra” that covered my nipples and held my ample breasts high on my chest. Placing his throbbing cock between my asscheeks, I grinded slowly, feeling him rub against my pussy and asshole. My body reacted instantly, oozing lust from petals which flushed with want. But I would keep my virginity (as it was), and only offer Brock what he’d already stolen. Truth be told, I doubted I could ever garner such delights from my womanhood; a debased whore such as myself was made to revel in the filthy and wrong. For that was what I was, and so I whole-heartedly accepted the woman who had blossomed from my sexual awakening. The very idea of the lows I would delve to aroused me beyond control, and I pressed his tip to my winking sphincter.

“But until then, I’m going to enjoy every second of this lowly, orc cock.” I said, smiling devilishly, and squatted. A moan leaked from my lips as I took him, enjoying the pain of my splitting insides. I let him stretch my asshole to capacity, sliding into my taut filth until my legs turned to jelly with the pleasure of it, and gave out. Brock’s cock plunged into me. I gasped in pain and pleasure, delighting in the depths of his penetration, the girth of his tortuous reaming. He gripped my asscheeks and spread them wide, stretching my anus even more, sending a lightning bolt of pain up my spine. I let out a cry as I savored the roughness of it, grinding my hips while I pressed myself to him, trying to take every inch. He gripped me by the neck and pushed me upright, his thick hand squeezing the air out of me. I squeaked about my constriction, my face darkening, but my expression wrought with slutty gratitude. His free hand gripped one of my breasts, the thumb pushing onto my erect nipple. I choked out a cry of pleasure from my closed windpipe, then grabbed his hand and guided it downward toward my crotch, my eyes pleading with him to play with me. Brock stopped short of my unoccupied slit, then brought his hand around to my backside. I cried out as Brock slipped one finger alongside his cock, stretching my rim even more. Brock didn’t heed my exclamation, but drove his other three fingers in, pulling on my fleshy walls. Oh god, how I loved it! The pain and pleasure, the way he ignored my protests and raped of me what was left to be raped. Tears streaked down my cheeks, and I undulated my hips in ardent reaction, nodding obediently and whimpering my delight.

“Getting her loosened up for me, Brock?”

Brock released my throat just as my head snapped around. Behind me stood a man, adorned with a cloak made of bear fur, the head of the beast acting as a hood. He was at least six and a half feet tall, a thick black beard wrapping his face, his eyes baring white irises. In his hand was a staff, a crooked piece of wood with a crowned skull at its peak.

“Princess Yavara Tiadoa,” he spoke, “we have much to discuss.”

ZANDER

I stared at the Dark Queen, her eyes blazing orange, her skin pale, a section of black hair streaking through a mess of blonde. She was in good shape for a high-elf, her arms and back toned and muscled. I couldn’t help but linger on her ass; it was full and thick, the only imperfection being the giant orc dick stuck inside of it.

“What the fuck took you so long?” Brock growled.

“The high-elves have been systematically destroying Alkandran ruins for centuries. I don’t have many portals left.” I responded.

Yavara looked at me, then at Brock. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Brock? Or is he just going to join in?”

Brock looked at me with an irritated expression. “Queen Yavara, this is Zander, wizard of the land-of-shit-timing, and if you wish, I’m sure he would join us.”

I smirked at Brock’s angry face before returning my attention to Yavara. “As much as I would love to, Your Highness, I did not travel a hundred miles in the dead of night to cross swords with an orc.”

Yavara swiveled around on Brock, anchoring her feet outside of the orc’s knees, everything spread out for the world to see. She was panting heavily, moaning as she adjusted herself on Brock, her body a marvel of jiggling motion. My god she is beautiful. The most beautiful incarnation since Alkandi herself. And such power… She is the one. She has to be.

“Zander?” Yavara inquired through her moans, “As in ‘Zander Fredeon?’ My father named you as one of the Highland’s closest allies.”

“And indeed, I am.” I replied, “And will remain so, if it is your wish.”

Yavara didn’t seem to hear me, but instead ogled the erection I could not conceal in my robes. “And what is your wish, Zander?”

“Whatever your wish is, Your Highness.”

Yavara grinned hungrily up at me. “Well Zander, why don’t you come over here? Your “queen” wishes to know what wizard tastes like.”

Though every inch of my primal being demanded that I comply with the young queen’s request, I willed myself to stay on task. Time was of the absolute essence. I had missed all the signs for this incarnation, though now that her identity was revealed, it didn’t surprise me that they’d eluded me. Who would have thought that the good and pure Queen Trenaria Tiadoa had sullied her womb? It was an interesting question, but the answer was useless. The years I would’ve had grooming young Yavara were lost. She was already a woman, almost past the point of pliability. Almost too late.

“My queen, I came here to help you take your rightful place on the Black Throne. Time is of the essence; your reappearance will be noticed before long, and you have more enemies than can be counted.” I said.

Yavara let out a sigh. “I’m getting bored of all these claims of my royalty. I am a princess of the Highlands, but I am no queen. Now Zander-” Yavara interrupted herself with a moan as Brock began gently thrusting into her, “…if you’ve traveled for a hundred miles in a night to see-” Yavara gasped as Brock’s strokes became longer. “If uuuh… you traveled this far-oh god don’t stop Brock!- to see me, then talk, because -oooohhhh fuck-because, if it’s so urgent-hhhnnnnnnggggg-that it can’t wait a bit, then you might as well…”

Yavara’s attention drifted from me, her eyes rolling back into her head as the orc increased his speed. She fell backwards onto Brock, who pulled her thighs up and spread them, giving me a front-row seat to her defilement. Her rim clung to the orc every time he retreated, a thin layer of flesh out-turning like an anal condom. She moaned delectably with every thrust, her mouth hanging open in bliss, a string of drool slowly descending from her lips.

From virgin to whore in a few hours; you really are the Dark Queen. I thought with a rueful smile. All of Alkandi’s carnations were ultimately the same. That ancient succubus heritage unfurled itself like a debauched late-blooming flower. I placed my hands behind by back and paced the tent until I found myself next to Yavara’s head. Her eyes stared upward, though I got the impression they were looking at nothing at all. I placed my index finger on her forehead and recited the verse I’d spoken many times before. It was uncouth, but I did not have the luxury of waiting for this orc chieftain to finish his deed.

Of blood and light is astral sight, to see the mind in the world behind, a shadow in the bright.

I closed my eyes and let the world around me fall away. I witnessed the tent the turn to a spot on the horizon, the Great Forest turn to a splash of green in a haze of blue. I ascended upward, the curvature of the earth growing more pronounced, the blackness of the void enveloping me. I waited in absolute darkness to hear her voice. I waited, and waited. An orange light finally illuminated the void, silhouetting a shapely female figure.

Yavara? I asked telepathically.

Yes? She answered, unafraid and curious. She was not alone. The orange glow became more pronounced, and more silhouetted figures followed behind her. There were thirty of them, all female, all walking in step with the elf as if they were a single being. They walked toward me until they were just a few yards away. I could make out some of the features of Yavara and her host, but they were still shrouded in the astral wind, their outlines wavering from the unfelt breeze. Yavara did not acknowledge her company; she did not seem to be aware they were there. She just looked at me, her head tilted in an inquisitive manner. The figures behind her did the same, synchronized with her movements.

Where am I? She inquired.

The astral plane, a place where only the mind exists.

And why am I here?

So that I can tell you why you’re changing.

Yavara let out a laugh. Is it because I’m the reincarnation of the Dark Queen? Ha! I don’t pay credence to myths. Any fool could tell this transformation is a curse, some attempt by a disgruntled subject to get at my father. I’m sorry that Brock sent you all this way for nothing, but he is mistaken.

No, I don’t think he is. Turn around.

Yavara’s astral body turned around, and with it, the thirty other figures. Yavara puzzled over the women behind her, then cautiously reached for one of them, only to have that figure reach in the exact same manner she did. She withdrew her hand in shock, and so did the others. Yavara turned back toward me, an expression of horror written across her astral face.

What are they?

They are you, Yavara. Thirty versions of you, their lifespans crossing millennia. The first version of you is over there, the succubus at the very end. When you were her, you seduced the dwarf high king, but you also fell in love with him. Knowing that his jealous wife would soon discover you, you placed your spirit in a soul gem. When the queen’s guards bashed through your chamber doors and murdered you, your spirit remained intact, waiting for a vessel to fill, and live again.

The second version of you is over there, the she-orc. She wasn’t always you, but a scavenger looking for pay dirt in the ruins of a fallen dwarf kingdom. She came across a brilliant orange gem that seemed to glow in the darkness. When she picked it up, it leapt from her hand and burned a hole into her heart. She died, but you rose from the ashes. When you were her, you rode a mammoth into battle against the human horde. You sacked the capital of Ardeni Dreus and raped the queen herself. Legends tell of your fearsome glowing eyes, how it seemed like the flame of hell resided behind them. You died falling off your mammoth in a drunken state.

I walked among the vestiges of Yavara’s past, looking for the first Dark Queen. I found her at the very end, her pointed ears and bronze skin radiating in the orange light.

And this, Yavara, is the first Dark Queen; the first complete incarnation of you. She was born a high-elf of low standing. She toiled in the fields until her sixteenth birthday, when she was banished from her home for loving a human. Her villagers killed her lover and sent her into exile with no food, clothes or provisions, damning her to walk the earth naked and alone. Her name was Alkandi.

Alkandi was no high-elf! Yavara objected.

No? I smiled back at her, Where do the dark-elves come from then? Did they spawn from the pits of hell, or did they tear themselves from the wombs of she-orcs?

Um… yes?

History is written by the victors, and the victors are often such poor liars. I chuckled, But I remember the truth, for I was there. During her banishment, Alkandi found herself in an ogre’s cave. She thought the cave abandoned, and she happened upon the skeleton of a she-orc, a gem buried in its ribs. Alkandi took the gem, and it burned its way into her chest. Unlike the she-orc, the gem did not kill Alkandi, but instead merged with her. Her hair grew black, her skin bronze, her eyes went from blue to orange.

When the ogre came back to its layer, it found Alkandi resting on the bones of his kill. The ogre tried to rape Alkandi, but Alkandi did not resist. An ogre’s passion would kill most high-elves, but Alkandi was no longer a high-elf, but the first dark elf; a creature with the body of an elf, but the lust of a succubus and the strength of a she-orc. Alkandi mated with the beast, and bore the ogre’s children, who were to become the second generation of dark-elves. She met with the ogre leaders and organized them, often times trading her body for favors. She did the same with the orc chieftains, and the goblins and centaurs, until she stood at the head of an army greater than any the world had ever seen.

She exacted her revenge upon the high-elves, cutting their kingdom in two, and establishing Alkandra, the realm of beasts, where she ruled for five-hundred years.

I paused to gaze upon the astral figure of Alkandi, her naked body still as beautiful as the day I met her, her face fierce and defiant, her eyes ablaze with orange fury. Yavara stared confusedly, her eyes narrowing, the hint of recognition dawning across her features.

When I was a young boy, I continued, my temple was sacked by a band of orcs. I hid behind a bookshelf as my brothers were massacred, praying that the orcs’ illiteracy would keep them from searching my hiding place. While I peeked between the spines of two dusty volumes, my eyes were met with two blazing orange eyes. The orcs dragged me out and wanted to kill me, but Alkandi said she had uses for a young mage with a knack for survival. In a few years’ time I became headmaster of the temple of Alkandra, and found myself in Alkandi’s bed many nights. I loved her, Yavara, though she never loved me the same way. Alkandi didn’t believe in monogamy, and I grew jealous.

One night I was contacted by the headmaster of the grand temple of the Highlands. He offered me amnesty for information, and in a jealous rage, I gave them what they wanted. Alkandi was assassinated in her chambers, and with her death, the kingdom of Alkandra tore itself apart. In my grief, I hung myself from the rafters of my temple. As I dangled from my noose, I looked up to find the ethereal figure of Alkandi, looking down at me from the astral plane. She told me that she would rise again, and that I needed to be there for her when she did. She gave me her gift of agelessness, so that I could remain youthful for as long as I needed until she once against sat upon the Black Throne.

Alkandi’s astral face turned sharply toward me. And what a fine job you’ve done so far, Zander.

Yavara gasped at the breaking of uniformity, but my attention was divested elsewhere. It was so good to hear Alkandi speak to me, even if her voice was seeped in venom. I smiled at her, then turned to Yavara, her face twisted in confusion.

Do you recognize that voice, Yavara? A voice that is your own, but somehow foreign?

Yavara flinched with realization, and twenty-nine of the other astral bodies flinched with her, but not Alkandi. Alkandi stepped from the row of her incarnates, and walked to the newest one, her hands outstretched.

Hello Yavara, I’m glad we could finally meet as more than dreams and carnal thoughts.

Yavara stepped backward, her hands held up defensively.

I’m-I’m you? The Dark Queen of Alkandra? That’s impossible! I would have known, I would have felt something!

But you always knew, Yavara, I was always there. I was there when you fell off your horse hunting for deer. You were so afraid that your father would never let you ride again. I was the part of you that blamed the wash boy for leaving the stairs too slick. When you were twelve and your sister tormented you with insults at your lanky figure, I was the part of you that sabotaged her wedding dress so that it would fall for the whole kingdom to see. And when your father and his banner men were attacked by a platoon of orcs, I was the part of you that took up the bow and laid waste to the raiders. But I was only ever an instinct to you, a feeling of daring, a call to the wild. It was only last night when Brock captured you, when he had his way with you, that I became a true voice in this head of ours. I turned your fear to joy, your pain to pleasure. The succubus soul that dwells with in us loved the defilement, the she-orc in us could take the punishment. And when you climaxed from your sodomy, my spiritual manifestation began to take physical form in our body. But the transformation cannot be completed until our two souls have mated as one. There is a duality to us now, a dangerous, instable being composed of two different halves of a whole. You are not a person without me, and I am not alive without you. If you reject me, Yavara, your high-elf form will return, but you will be a soulless husk, wandering the world behind empty eyes.

Alkandi’s astral body stepped toward Yavara’s, her slender bronze form contrasting the alabaster voluptuousness of her counterpart. She put her hands on Yavara’s hips and brought her to herself, pressing her pelvis to Yavara’s, their breasts squishing together. Alkandi’s hands wandered down Yavara’s thighs and up her supple backside. She squeezed with both hands and spread Yavara, exposing her openings to the void. Yavara let out a whimper in response, her astral body involuntarily pressing closer to Alkandi, her hands hanging uselessly at her side, unsure and terrified.

My god, Yavara, Alkandi muttered, running her eyes covetously down Yavara’s body, I’ve lived in thirty different bodies, but I’ve never had an ass like this before.

Alkandi’s gaze lingered on Yavara’s bosom, still pressed against her own, their erect nipples toying with each other. She released her left hand from Yavara’s ass, and filled it with one of Yavara’s breasts, prompting another whimper from the high-elf.

And these tits, Yavara! The royal tailor must have used half the fabric in the kingdom to try and cover them.

She kept her eyes locked with Yavara as she brought the nipple into her mouth. Yavara tried to stifle a moan, but Alkandi’s lips curved in acknowledgement of it. She nursed from Yavara, her cheeks stretching gaunt with suction, highlighting her angular cheekbones. Her left hand worked its way down Yavara’s torso while her right slid down Yavara’s crack, parting the pliant domes with elegant fingers. Yavara could do nothing but let it happen, her eyes wide, her lips trembling. Alkandi gazed upon those lips, admiring their glistening fullness, the pouting center of Yavara’s innocent face.

I just realized that you’ve never been kissed before.

Alkandi pressed her lips to Yavara’s, opened them with her own, then slid her tongue into Yavara’s gaping mouth. Yavara’s eyes went wide with the shock of it, her jaw unhinged to dumbly accept the kiss. Alkandi savored the taste of her younger incarnation, her gently-consuming mouth rotating hedonistically, delivering the caress of her invading tongue. Yavara’s eyes began to relax, the lids growing heavy with unwanted lust, the lenses glazing in the heat of it. Her lips locked instinctively, her tongue sliding alongside her molester’s, her mouth devouring in kind. She moved her arms from her sides, her hands tracing the outer portion of Alkandi’s thighs before resting at the base of Alkandi’s glutes. She filled her hands, squeezing tightly and spreading them apart, exposing the lewd options that hid in Alkandi’s shadowed crevasse. Alkandi responded by driving her middle finger into Yavara’s asshole, eliciting a muffled squeal of pure delight.

My, my, my… what a little anal slut you are, Yavara. Alkandi’s amused voice echoed, One finger in the ass and I can already feel your pussy dripping down my leg.

Well if we’re really just two halves of a whole, then I’m guessing the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.

Yavara reached between Alkandi’s legs and greased her hand. Alkandi grinned encouragingly against Yavara’s lips, pressing her body invitingly. Yavara didn’t bother with the customary first finger, but elected to stick all four into Alkandi’s tight sphincter instead. Alkandi violently arched her back, her legs buckling with the intensity of the feeling. Yavara gracefully supported her past self, the two elves descending to the ground with Yavara on top, their lips still locked in a passionate kiss.

You little bitch.

Guess I was right.

Alkandi kept her finger inside Yavara while her other hand stroked her platinum hair, then grasped the head that bore it to deepen the kiss. She entwined her legs with Yavara’s, and slowly rotated them both until she was atop, Yavara accepting the submissive role.

Mmmmm, you taste good. Alkandi moaned, parting from the kiss. She grinned mischievously at Yavara, I wonder how your other lips taste.

She licked her way down Yavara’s neck, stopping at her breasts to tease her nipples, then continuing down her torso until she reached her destination. As she sated Yavara’s perverse anal lust with her rotating finger, she awakened the princess’s bisexuality with a single flick of her tongue, drawing it through the leaking folds of Yavara’s blushing slit. Yavara’s body became languorous, the change rippling through her visibly. Without pretense, she grabbed Alkandi’s head and pushed it to her, her back arching from the ground in response to Alkandi’s practiced movements. Alkandi grinned around her consumption, her lips strung with her prey’s wanting nectar. She changed the patterns of her tongue, and was rewarded with the sweet call of Yavara’s cry. She opened Yavara’s petals with her free hand, and slid her tongue inside, her lower lip sucking sensually upon the hooded clit. It was immediately obvious when Alkandi found the secret spot within Yavara, for the high-elf went rigid as a board. Alkandi lingered there for a while, drawing out the torture while Yavara squirmed delightedly beneath her. When Yavara was begging with a hoarse cry, Alkandi forced three more fingers into her anus. Yavara screamed, her back wrenching into a concave bow, her toes curling. In a motion too quick to discern, she wrapped her legs around Alkandi’s head and spun her on her back. Yavara now straddled Alkandi’s face, her thighs locked around her head as she grinded her pussy downward, her sapphire gaze possessed and wild. Alkandi took a moment to gasp for air, then plunged back into Yavara, her nose wetting with the moist folds that encased it. Yavara’s blonde hair hung in front of her face, sweat glistened off her pale skin, her panting was heavy and uneven. I could see the muscles in her torso contracting with the pleasure Alkandi’s tongue bore into her, her squeezing thighs spasming around the black mess of hair between them.

I stood a few feet back, enjoying the spectacle, my penis at full attention. I looked around at the other twenty-nine astral bodies. They were no longer mirroring Yavara’s movements, but were instead staring at the two elves entangled in lust, baring witness to the debauched ceremony. Most of them had not undergone this transformation ceremony, for most had been born dark-elf. Those that had been born high-elf watched knowingly, remembering when they fell. I had known most of them personally, and had loved a few. But I had failed them all, for they were in this place of impermanence. I would not fail again. I could not.

Yavara’s astral voice rang out through the void, a melody of ecstasy rising from her throat. I knew Alkandi was getting close. Yavara had held out longer than any of the other high-elf incarnations had, but Alkandi always got them in the end.

Give in, Yavara. Become one with me. Alkandi’s astral voice oozed with seduction.

Yavara panted in tense ecstasy, staring at the woman between her legs. Fuck you.

Yavara suddenly released Alkandi’s head from her leg lock, swiveled on her face, and draped her body across Alkandi’s abdomen, her eyes locked on the leaking prize between Alkandi’s legs. She experimented with Alkandi’s clit, her finger curiously rubbing the organ, unsure and unpracticed. Alkandi humored her counterpart, spreading her legs wide in challenge. Yavara’s coyness melted from her almost instantly, and she sunk two fingers into Alkandi and forked them, opening the enticing pink depths of the woman. Alkandi’s legs tremored with excitement, her toes curling with pleasure. She resumed her meal as Yavara started hers, drawing her tongue through Alkandi’s folds, then wrapping her lips about Alkandi’s clit, and sucking it. Alkandi retaliated by adding three more fingers into Yavara’s asshole, both of her hands burying digits into the princess’s taut filth. Yavara squealed muffled delight, but she did not cease her meal. The Dark Queen pulled her hands apart, stretching Yavara’s rim and exposing her ruby insides to the spectators. Though Yavara’s shoulders pinched and her eyes rolled back, she did not relent, but continued her consumption with determination written across her pleasure-wrought features. She slid her arms beneath Alkandi’s legs, grabbed her cheeks, and spread. She withdrew from her meal only to release a glob of drool upon Alkandi’s taint, and watched it drip into her awaiting asshole. Alkandi, unknowing of the danger she was in, only planted her heels into the astral earth to present her filthy asset. Yavara drove her fist inside. Alkandi let out a shriek, her face wide with shock, her meal temporarily forgotten. Yavara smiled fondly at the sight of the dark-elf’s tight sphincter gripping her knuckles, then pushed to the wrist, closed her hand, and began thrusting. She giggled in lustful megalomania as Alkandi thrashed and squirmed in ecstasy, the Dark Queen’s equanimity thrown to the wind as she screamed obscenities into the void.

Alkandi’s voice rang into my head, her tone startling me. We may have a problem here!

What?

I’m… I’m losing control! She’s taking me!

Well, this is a first. Perhaps this updated version of you is better than the original?

I think she is the one. This is the version of me that will finally sit on the Black Throne. But first I need to merge with her, and that’s not going to happen if I’m panting like a bitch in heat with her draped over my face!

How can I help? I asked, probably too eagerly.

Don’t get too excited Zander, my proposition could be fatal.

I’ve been waiting for death for a thousand years.

Well you might get your wish then. I need you to empty your mind and let me in. I can’t finish the job in the astral plane, but I might be able to in the mortal world.

You want to use my body? How long could you stay in control before I have an aneurism?

I’ll only need a few minutes. The orc has been pounding the girl’s shithole for a while now; she should be close. I’ll take over your body and push her over the edge.

If I die before you can finish, Yavara won’t be able to merge with you, and any future incarnations of you will never be able to find you again without me. You’re taking an enormous risk here, Alkandi.

She is the one, Zander. She is the most powerful incarnation I’ve ever had. I will risk everything to become one with her.

As you wish.

I walked over to Alkandi, who throughout our telepathic conversation had been moaning and screaming like a whore. She no longer fought Yavara, but blissfully sucked her own fingers, her eyes half-closed and staring into Yavara’s exposed openings, her body simply reacting. Alkandi had been completely conquered, and seemed to be enjoying every second of it. I placed a finger on her forehead, and emptied my mind. There was a flash of blinding light, then I stood alone in blackness, the sounds of sex that had filled the air drifting away on the astral wind. Yavara, Alkandi and the twenty-nine incarnations of her had disappeared. I sat upon the ground, and waited.

ALKANDI

The first thing I noticed about my new body was a great pressure in my loins. I looked down to see a massive erection standing between my legs. I always had a healthy sex drive as a female but this… this was something else. My cock needed -no- demanded that I shove it into someone.

This explains a lot about men.

I looked over at Yavara. Her blonde hair was a complete mess, the thin streak of black entangled with the yellow. Her large breasts bounced with the orc’s rhythm, her torso contorting to expose the muscle beneath her glistening belly fat. Her feet were pulled past her pointed ears, the orc gripping and spreading her cheeks, exposing her stretched anus, and the grotesque meat that plunged relentlessly into it. God, what a body. It would be mine!

Yavara looked at who she thought was Zander, and stared in admiration at the bulge pressing against my robe. I smiled at her, and she smiled seductively back, beckoning me to her with lustful eyes. I threw off my cloak, exposing when she wanted.

“Brock, move your legs. I’m coming in through the front.” I was startled when Zander’s deep voice growled from my chest.

“Oh, fuck off Zander, you can wait until I’m done.”

Yavara gazed at me, biting her lower lip and rubbing her pussy. “I’m saving myself for marriage, Zander. Brock won’t get his ransom if I lose my chastity. Come over here and let me taste you.”

A thin smile curled across my lips. “I’m not Zander.”

I couldn’t trick my way back into Yavara’s soul. I looked through the pages of Zander’s mind for a spell I could use, and came across a shape-shifting incantation that would do the trick. I murmured the words in my mind, aware that a pressure was starting to build in my left temple. Zander didn’t have much time. The spell wrapped my body in a golden aura, and my masculine build morphed into the feminine body I possessed a thousand years ago. My rounded ears grew points, my chest grew breasts, my pale skin turned to bronze, and my white irises turned orange. I stood before Yavara and Brock as the Dark Queen Alkandi, as beautiful and terrible as I was in my prime, the only difference being Zander’s cock standing in place of my pussy.

I smiled at Yavara and Brock’s shocked expressions. Brock’s motions slowed as he pondered how to react to this situation. I placed a gentle hand upon the base of his thick cock, and gingerly guided it upward into Yavara, savoring the feel of a man against my fingertips. It had been so long. Brock recommenced his thrusts, though he did not take his eyes off me, watching me with suspicion. He couldn’t know what had transpired in the realm above. I turned my attention to Yavara, whose face was a conflict of pleasure and fear, her mouth moving, but not forming words. I positioned myself at her entrance, her oozing slit beckoning me to enter her. I began to tease her lips with my tip, sliding it between her folds, relishing the soft sensation of her petals gently giving way to me. Oh, how the softness of a woman stirred the masculine hunger in me. My muscles were tensed, my heartbeat heavy and fast, my new instincts urging me to drive, to bury myself into her tender depths and ruin the softness within. I began to push forward when Yavara’s voice cut into my ears.

“Don’t do it! My father will never take me back! You’ll ruin me!” Yavara cried through short breaths, her voice shaking. I realized too late that I was dealing with the half of Yavara that desired a castle, servants and a well-connected husband. Her sense of adventure, mischievousness, and passion had all departed from her when we split from the astral plane. We were effectively two different people now, though neither of us was whole. I needed to tread lightly here; this was not the strong woman who could take down a band of orcs, but a frail princess afraid for her life.

I placed a loving hand on her cheek, my fingers caressing her maternally. “Yavara, if you truly desire to live on without me, I will not force this upon you. We can only be one if you accept me with your heart and soul. But you will miss me with each passing second, spending the rest of your days trying to fill an emptiness within you.”

Yavara stared back with contempt. “I don’t accept you! I’ve already denied you in the astral plane, I am denying you here! Go back to the void and find some other victim to possess, I never want to hear your voice again!”

Her words were cruel and cutting, the rejection striking me to the core. I felt tears welling in my eyes as I watched Yavara’s orange irises fade to blue, her black streak of hair growing lighter by the second. I failed, and my own failure would doom us both. My mind drifted to a corner of Zander’s brain, where his fate was throbbing against my skull. The pain in my temple was no longer a mild annoyance; it was becoming excruciating.

I’m so sorry, Zander.

Brock’s gruff voice broke through my misery-induced trance. “Just shove it in her, my queen. You remember how she was last night; Yavara doesn’t want you to ask for consent, this little slut wants to be taken.” Brock punctuated his statement by reaching between Yavara’s legs and spreading her frothing pussy with his fingers, eliciting a cry of protest from the elf.

A devilish grin curled from the corners of my lips. My feminine sentimentality faded as my new masculine urges took hold of me, and I grabbed Yavara by the hips, and violently thrusted, not stopping until my balls slapped against her taint. Yavara let out a shrill scream, her hands curling to fists, her neck striating with pain; but was I moaning. Yavara was tight and wet around me, her tender sheath sucking on my shaft as if trying to milk my loins. I could feel Brock moving on the other side of her vaginal floor, his motions brutally repetitive, each drive causing Yavara’s cunt to flex around me, pulling me deeper. I looked up into her eyes, their blue depths wrought with pain and horror.

“W-w-why did you do that?!” She blubbered, “I told you not to! Now I will never get to return home!”

I leaned forward until my eyes were inches from her own. I could smell her sweet aroma wafting from her, the hormones secreting from her flesh in response to my penetration. The scent was intoxicating to the male part of me, beckoning me to push deeper into her, my hips pressing forward, my cock breaking her in.

“You fucking bitch! I hate you! I HATE YOU!” Yavara screamed, her eyes wide and trembling. Her weakness stoked a masculine rage within me, a desire to dominate and ravage. My hands shot to her throat and squeezed, and I savored the fear rising in her eyes, the vessels showing as breathing became a luxury.

“I’m done pretending to give a shit about your problems.” I growled, “I’m done trying to explain things to you. Right now, you’re not even a person; you’re just a half-empty vessel waiting to be filled.”

Yavara let out a pathetic whimper in response, her face contorted in hatred, but her hips grinding instinctively against me, betraying her true desires, the perversions she could not control.

“That’s right, you little slut.” I said, squeezing tighter, “Pretend all you want; you love this, don’t you?”

The pain in my head was getting worse by the minute, pounding, pounding, pounding against my skull. My vision blurred with it, my lids heavy. Yavara’s face remained stoic, her eyes staring daggers into me. Why did she resist me?!

“My queen, if you were one of my men, I would have kicked you out of the gangbang by now.” Brock’s voice cut through the fog. He placed his hands on my hips, “I can’t believe I have to teach Alkandi how to fuck.” Brock guided me to thrust, our cocks sliding together, pressing Yavara’s nerve-swathed division between us. I marveled at the sight of her pelvis deforming and reforming, the bulge evident from the outside. She could hardly hide it now, the pleasure she wrought. I could feel her insides fluttering with contractions, welcoming every drive and lamenting every retreat. Brock and I lifted her off his lap with every thrust, strings of her nectar thinning from her stretched taint. Her face contorted, twisting to hold the scream she wanted to sound, her eyes filming with ecstasy.

“You like me fucking your virgin cunt, you royal whore?” I growled as I drove into her. I knew too well how she liked being degraded, but she persevered admirably, her lips sealed, but quivering. I withdrew one hand from her throat, and slapped her across the face, turning her pale cheek bright red. Yavara let out a cry as her head snapped to the side. She faced away from me, recovering from the blow before whipping her head back, her hand placed upon the spot of contact, her mouth agape in arousal, her eyes pleading for what she would not ask for.

“You like having both your slutty holes filled with cock?” I screamed as I slapped her other cheek. Yavara let out a cry in response, her hips grinding ardently about her dual penetration, her ass deforming with the press of her shifting weight. Brock withdrew his hands from my hips to play with Yavara’s breasts, his thick fingers pinching her nipples. Yavara moaned as the orc twisted and pulled, her nipples stretching conically from her jiggling breasts. She looked at me from the tops of her eyes, possessed and demanding, not having to ask for what she wanted. I slapped her again and again, each blow deepening the blush of her cheeks, each blow rewarded with the clenches of her internal muscles. Yavara’s hands suddenly shot from her sides, filling with my chest, my nipples excreting milk as she squeezed. I let out a sobbing moan, my docile femininity surrendering to the feeling. I forgot myself for a moment, and looked upon Yavara’s face with sexual gratitude. I was met with an imperious, hate-filled stare.

“Is that all you got?” Yavara sneered, “The infamous Dark Queen can’t even seduce a freshly-broken maiden?”

I grabbed Yavara’s face and pushed her head against Brock’s chest, her muffled squeal of excitement radiating from between my fingers. I pulled out of her dripping cunt and pressed the head of my cock to the base of Brock’s. I took a moment to savor the widening of Yavara’s eyes once she realized how badly she fucked up.

“Stop, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

I laughed cruelly, then bit my lip, and began to push, looking into her eyes with a stare full of control You’re mine. A small moan of pain came from her, then escalated to an ear-splitting shriek. Brock’s cock pressed to mine, his pulsing rigidity a contrast to Yavara’s tender depths, constricting around the both of us in a vice-hold, her rim stretching to an ovoid ruin. I thought she might pass out from the pain, but her body adapted beautifully, her taut exit welcoming me deeper, until my balls rested upon Brocks. Oh, the way she felt… I could’ve lost myself there, staring into her pain-riddled eyes, watching the realization dawn upon her as ecstasy brimmed to the surface. I needed this body of hers, this temple made for the perverse, this debauched mind that only wanted more.

“My god you are an anal whore.” I panted through a gaping smile, my chest heaving, “That bitchy little attitude disappeared real fast once you had two cocks in your ass.” I glanced at the slit I’d vacated, my smile broadening, “But look at this lonely hole here. A slut like you probably can’t stand not having it filled.”

I pinched my thumb and fingers together, and forced my fist into Yavara’s wet cunt. Her soft lips gave way to me, then sucked me about the wrist, hungry for my invasion, enveloping me. Yavara’s cries sung rapturously from her, her head flinging back to yield them. I took the opportunity to grip my cock through her moist floor, sending off a spasm that traveled from Yavara’s nethers to her navel. My knuckles pressed into the ribbed spot on her ceiling, prompting her thick thighs to clamp tightly against my forearm, quivering as I massaged her insides. I pulled my cock from her asshole, her exhausted sphincter slowly constricting around Brock’s member. Leaving my hand in place, I guided myself back into Yavara’s slit, her overflowing juices allowing me to slide in easily. Yavara sustained a whine as I entered her with my filthy cock, stretching her past her limit. A shot of pain blasted against the inside of skull. Tendrils of red snaked across my blurring vision, pulsing, beating, sounding off the ticks of my mortality. The throbbing subsided, but the interruption shook me back to reality.

“…oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” Yavara was babbling, her eyes glazed, completely unaware of how dire the situation was.

I pulled my hand from her pussy and grabbed her throat, bringing her face to mine. “Do you accept me back into your heart? Will we reunite together as one?!” I asked fiercely, frantically searching her piercing blue eyes for a response. She turned away from me. The pressure in my temple was growing unbearable, beating, beating, beating with my heart, the blood surging behind my eyes.

“Yavara,” my voice was gravel, “you will never know such pleasure as this without me. The succubus that dwells within us will be gone from you. This joy, this immeasurable lust, you will live the rest of your life chasing its echo.”

She didn’t respond, but continued her moaning, her dance of defilement. Panic took me. I fucked Yavara with a fervency, Brock driving to match my pace, Yavara’s moans turning to cries, turning to breathless gasps as we bore into her. Please, Yavara! Please break! I released her throat to rub her clit, her juices frothing from her sucking pussy, webbing my fingers with her lust. I pushed deeper, hollowing her tender reaches until I could feel the tip of my cock pressing against her cervix. Yavara’s tongue lolled from her mouth, her eyes rolled back into her head, primal, guttural moans rising from her chest. I slapped her ferociously, tearing her from her sexual trance.

“Answer me!” My voice rang out through the tent, desperation clinging to the words.

Yavara’s lip quivered, her blue eyes staring back into mine, giving me a glimpse of the internal conflict that raged behind them. I knew this was the critical moment, the knife’s edge that balanced our fates. I withdrew from Yavara until my head was barely inside of her, and then drove forward with all my might. Her legs spread wide to accept me, her insides coiling about my advance to compel me deeper, deeper, deeper. I pushed until my head met her final resistance. It was dilated and ready, her body made to be defiled, even the very sanctity of her womanhood. I growled through the fog of my agony, smelling iron, tasting it. I pushed through. Yavara’s face opened wide, and she threw back her head to scream hoarsely to the sky.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh god, yes! Yes, Alkandi, I accept you! Make us whole again!”

A wave of relief washed over me, and I gazed lovingly into Yavara’s beautiful blue depths. She gazed back at me with equal affection, a tear running down her cheek. I grabbed a chunk of her hair and pulled her head backward, pushing my mouth to hers. Our tongues entangled in passionate combat, our faces wet with our joy. I molded myself hard against her body, our breasts deforming against each other, the sweat glistening on our skin, oiling our movements as I slid back and forth on top of her. A blast of pain, a horrendous burst that shot stars into my vision. I pitched forward, blinded in red, tasting salt and iron.

“Alkandi…” Yavara’s sweet voice rang in my ears.

I looked up to see fear etched across Yavara’s face. Drops of blood were dripping from my nose and onto her cheek. My mind was a mess, a torrent of fleeting thought punctuated by pain. I collapsed atop her, a smear of blood wiping across one of her soft breasts. The world began to blur, the darkness surrounding me, my heartbeat slowing to a dwindling cadence while the ground fell beneath me.

A shot of pain brought me back to the realm of the living. Brock’s hands had come down violently on my backside, and the fingers of each had invaded my anus. “Ha! I can’t believe that worked!” Brock laughed, “Nobody on earth is lucky enough to die fucking a hot blonde, not even you!”

I cried in weak pleasure as his fingers explored my rectum. I’d always enjoyed anal sex, but having a prostate added a whole new element to the exercise. I feebly reached backward and guided his hands to invade me deeper, the kneading tips exploring my taut filth. Brock hooked his digits about my rim, and pulled them apart, sending electric pain and pleasure up my spine. Yavara pulled my face to hers and kissed me deeply, my neck no longer strong enough to support my head. Brock’s probing fingers found my prostate, and it encouraged me to thrust forward into Yavara, the motions that of a puppet being played by the orc puppeteer.

“Keep going my queen, we’re almost there!” Brock encouraged, fingers twisting. I could feel a great pressure building up in my loins. It started in my prostate and traveled to my balls, nearly causing my legs to buckle. My cock twitched and throbbed, coerced by the sucking pull of Yavara’s insides. I could feel Brock’s member undergoing a similar sensation from the other side, his escalating growls giving voice to it. Yavara let out a sudden scream, and sprayed my crotch and belly, announcing the beginning of her ascension. Her body contracted and convulsed as I drove inside of her with my last bit of strength, her inner muscles pulsating and gripping me tighter than ever before. I heaved with sapped legs, sheathed myself to the hilt, and erupted. The pleasure lanced through my loins like a bolt, driving relentlessly to the tip of my cock, spurting my milk into the wanting receptacle within. But the pleasure was lost on me, for I was naught but the pain; the horrible, unrelenting pain! Beating, beating, beating, and exploding. Stars, blooded tendrils, the smell of something burning. Someone was screaming. Hoarse and high, it sounded so familiar. Who was that? Whose beautiful blue eyes were those? No… no wait; they’re orange.

---