The road to Vestahl was supposed to take three weeks. By the seventh day, they had covered less than a quarter of the distance.
Stark trudged ahead of the group, his axe strapped across his back, his boots kicking up dust that had long since caked the hem of his trousers. There was this "ugh" to his steps. Anyone could see it. The sun beat down on the grasslands with indifferent cruelty. Behind him, Frieren walked in her usual dreamlike state, grimoire open, eyes scanning pages she'd probably memorized centuries ago.
And behind her…
"Mmmnn…!"
Well, the sound came from a thicket of trees just off the road. Stark's jaw tightened.
Schwanz had found another "rest stop."
Sigh.
…
…
…
The clearing was small, sheltered by ancient oaks whose branches interlocked like the fingers of old lovers. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in dappled gold, illuminating the scene in patches of light and shadow.
This gap. This small resting place. Perfect for camping.
Or, in their case, for sex.
Fern's robes lay in a crumpled heap on the forest floor. Her boots had been kicked off, one landing near a mushroom cluster, the other hanging from a branch. Her undergarments—what little she'd worn that morning—were torn. Literally torn. Schwanz had ripped them off her with his bare hands an hour ago.
"Unh! Mmmmppphhhng!"
Fern was the type that suppressed her voice as much as possible. Ideally, to suspend her pleasure all together.
Alas, that was impossible with the long pipe plunging into her pink pussylips. Schwanz stood in the center of the clearing, his tunic open to his waist, his trousers around his ankles. His olive-skinned body glistened and his muscles corded and flexed as he held Fern aloft. His arms were hooked under her knees, pinning her legs over his shoulders. Her wrists were trapped behind her back in his single, vice-like grip. Her entire weight was supported by two points: his hold on her wrists and the terrifying, deep impalement of his cock driving up into her
A standing full nelson.
"Unhhh—! Oh gods—! Oh gods, oh gods—!"
What a fucking slutty position. Wet and loud, upon the very first thrust, Fern's shriek had melted into a moan before the sound finished leaving her throat.
"Unh! Nngggh! Schwanz! Mr. Schwwwanz! Lord Schwwwaaanz!"
Honorifics felt right and wrong. This man, this cock, it deserved respect. Her scrambled brain could not choose one, however.
Fern's head lolled back against his shoulder. Her violet eyes were wide, pupils blown, seeing nothing but the canopy spinning overhead. Her mouth hung open, drool spilling in thick ropes that dangled and swayed with each brutal thrust. "Unh, unh, unnhhh~!!" Her massive breasts bounced up and down, up and down, the nipples dark pink. This dark tint, the shadows and the sweat from fucking raw.
"You feel that?" Schwanz grunted, thrusting in tone with every word. His lips brushed her ear with a grin. "That's all ten inches. Every. Single. One!"
The splatter from her cunt, her hair, and from her very complexion.
"I—I know—! I know they're—nnngh—I can feel them in my—"
"Your what?"
"My wooomb—! My fucking womb—!"
"Swearing? Not very couth of you, Fern~"
This teasing bastard…!
This hung bastard!
Yet, she couldn't DO anything about it. Fern wasn't exaggerating. Looking down, she could see it; a subtle but unmistakable bulge in her lower abdomen every time he thrust up into her. The outline of his cock. Schwanz saw it too and grinned.
"Look at that. You're so full of me you're showing."
"Sh-shut up—! Don't—don't say it like—CUMMIIING—!"
He thrust up harder, cutting off her protest. Fern's eyes rolled back so far only the whites showed. Her tongue lolled out, saliva dripping in a continuous stream onto her heaving breasts.
Schwanz brought his thick lips up to her drool drenched tongue and slurped up her excess saliva. Drinking her down like a thirsty animal on the brink of death. Fern happily letting him toy and suck and fuck her however he wanted.
"Mmmm! Schlrrp! Mleeh~!"
She moaned as their tongues ripped and swirled around the others in the open. Allowing the spoiled royal to fuck her mouth with his tongue, as his cock bullied her insides and made a mess of her cunt. They broke off their disgusting kiss with globs of spit dropping between them, letting their fucking be the only sound to fill the air.
SCHLORP—! PLAP—! SCHLORP—! PLAP—!
Wet and thunderous. Pleasuring and godly. Her pussy—that tight, pink, soaking cunt—stretched around his fat dong. Clear fluid gushed with every thrust, spraying onto the forest floor, coating his balls, dripping down his thighs. The full nelson position meant he was hitting deeper than ever before, the angle forcing his cockhead to kiss her cervix with every vicious plunge.
"Fern! Fuck yes!" Schwanz roared.
"C-CUMMING—! I'M CUMMING AGAIN—! FUUUUHHH—!"
Fern convulsed and thus her pussy clamped down like a vice, pulsing, milking, gushing. She actually squirted, a clear jet of fluid that arced through the air and splattered against a tree trunk three feet away. Schwanz laughed and laughed as he kept thrusting with all his light..
"That's my greedy girl. That's my good little slut."
"N-not—nnngh—not a slut—!"
Thrust, thrust, thrust!
"You just squirted on a tree. What else would you call that than slutty behavior?" He whispered, his lips grazing her ear.
Fern couldn't answer. She couldn't form words anymore. All she could do was hang there in his grip and take it. Take the cock. Take the pleasure.Take the ruin that he was making of her body and her mind and everything she'd thought she was before she met him.
He fucked her through her orgasm and into the next one. The full nelson didn't let up. Didn't slow. Didn't show mercy.
Thirty minutes into their "rest stop," Fern had lost count of how many times she'd cum. When Stark arrived, his jaw was clenched the whole time. It took a long, long while before the sex-addicted pair finally heard him and decided to walk again.
***
Like any addict, it didn't last. They walked, oh sure, for a healthy four hours. After that, they stopped again as Schwanz complained about his ankle.
"Yeah, probably from all that fucking," is what Stark would have murmured if he had the balls. Alas, lunch arrived and the second "rest stop" softly launched. Schwanz grabbed her by the arm and took her away. Five minutes later…
"Guhh! Fuuu—! Cumming, cumming, cummiiing—shiiiiit~!!!"
Birds scattered. Stark closed his eyes, sighing. Frieren eyed where they were in the distance.
When Fern and Schwanz returned, they didn't bother putting their clothes back on. Fern was this shy, reddened mess, using her arms to try and cover herself up, while Schwanz wore this cocky grin. "Sorry about all this. We, uh, had an accident in the river, right Fern?"
"Y-Yeah. Lost some of our clothes."
Stark and Frieren exchanged a glance. Both knew there was no river for miles. And nothing was missing from the clothes dangling from Schwanz's arm.
"You're lying, but okay," Frieren said bluntly.
"Heh. You got me Lady Frieren." He caved to her with zero pushback.
They sat down and shared dried meat and hard bread while sitting naked in the clearing. Schwanz's cock was still rock-hard like a fucking flagpole. Fern ate with trembling hands, her pussy and his cream still leaking onto the grass. She'd barely tasted the food though.
Frieren was thinking, 'Does that thing ever go down…?'
Stark was thinking, 'Are these two really going to fuck every four hours…?'
Meanwhile, all Fern could think about was when he'd put it back inside her. Schwanz didn't make her wait long too.
"Excuse us, we have something very important we must take care of."
"Uhh…"
Damn bastard.
It wasn't right in front of them, technically, but it might as well have been. Literally, they walked off with an excuse about "washing" and hardly went past two trees. Two! Cue the loud smooch and splashes of saliva. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Stark saw Fern lay on the forest floor. The trees were no longer hiding them. Maybe on purpose, maybe by accident.
Didn't matter.
Boobs squishing downward, that thicc, glorious body stretched out on a bed of soft moss. Schwanz lay behind her, his chest pressed against her back, his arm hooked under her top knee to lift her leg into the air. The position—sideways fucking, Schwanz called it—let him slide into her from behind at an angle that hit spots she didn't even know she had.
"Ah—! Ah—! Ah—!"
Stark had to watch it like gossip in the corner of his eye. To see the woman he had feelings for once upon a time moaning and moaning in short, breathy gasps, always timed to the thrusts of a big fat arrogant noble cock. The rhythm was slow but deep. He wasn't jackhammering into her like before. This was something else. Something more intimate. His cock slid in and out of her with great grinding strokes, the head rubbing against her inner walls in a way that made sparks dance behind her eyes.
"You're so wet," Schwanz murmured into her ear. "Listen."
SCHLICK—! SCHLICK—! SCHLICK—!
The sound was different from before, less percussive slapping. Her pussy was absolutely drenched, her juices coating his shaft, his balls, the moss beneath them. Every thrust pushed more fluid out of her, creating a growing damp spot on the forest floor.
"I—nnngh—I can't help it—! Your cock—! It's too—!"
"Too what?"
"Too big—! Too good—! Too—AHHH—!"
He'd angled his hips and hit something new. Something that made her vision go white and her leg kick involuntarily. Schwanz chuckled and did it again. And again. And again.
"That's your g-spot," he said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather. "Right there. Feel that?"
"YESSS—! YES, I FEEL IT—! I FEEL IT IN MY—IN MY—"
"In your what?"
"EVERYTHING—! I FEEL IT EVERYWHERE—!"
Her massive tits bounced with every thrust, the nipples dark and peaked. Schwanz's free hand reached around to cup one, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh. He squeezed, thumb circling her nipple, and Fern made a sound that was halfway between a sob and a scream.
"These tits," he groaned. "Fucking perfect. I love watching them bounce."
"Th-they're too—nnngh—too big—!"
"They're exactly the right size. Just like this ass."
His hand slid down from her breast, over her stomach, to grip the ample curve of her hip. He squeezed the fat flesh, his fingers dimpling the soft skin, then gave it a sharp smack.
The sound echoed through the clearing. Stark had to be content with seeing it. He had to pretend that her G-spot wasn't out of reach, that his cock could do the same thing. He chewed on his cheek.
Fern shrieked, but the shriek turned into a moan as he thrust deep and held there, grinding his pelvis against her ass. She was losing herself. She knew it. She could feel it happening—the last threads of her dignity, her pride, her sense of self, all unraveling under the relentless pleasure of his cock.
"Schwanz—! Schwanz, I—I can't—!"
"You can. You will. You're going to cum for me again."
"B-but I've already—I've cum so many—"
"One more. Cum for me, Fern. Cum on this cock."
She did.
It hit her like a thunderclap. Her body arched, her back bowing away from his chest. Her pussy clamped down on his shaft with desperate, pulsing contractions. Clear fluid gushed from her, soaking the moss, his thighs, her own trembling legs. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, drool spilling down her chin.
"Good girl," Schwanz breathed. "Such a good, greedy girl."
He didn't stop. He kept fucking her through the orgasm, drawing it out, making it last until she was a boneless, sobbing mess in his arms. Only then did he pull out—and even then, his cock was still rock-hard, still glistening, still ready for more.
The third position came at dusk.
They should have been making camp by now. They should have been setting up bedrolls and building a fire and preparing for the night. Instead, Schwanz had Fern on her back, her legs folded up against her chest, her ankles hooked over his shoulders. The mating press. His favorite position, he'd told her. The one that let him get deepest.
"F-FUCK—! FUCK, FUCK, FUUUUHHH—!"
Fern's screams had gone hoarse hours ago. Now they came out as ragged, desperate wails. Her hands clawed at the moss above her head, her fingers digging furrows in the soft earth. Her massive tits were squished against her own knees and the saliva. Good god, the saliva that dripped and that Schwanz sucked up.
He was pounding her into the forest floor. Literally pounding. Each thrust drove her body deeper into the moss, creating an impression of her back and ass in the soft earth. The mating press let him put all his weight behind every stroke, let him bury his cock to the absolute hilt with every plunge.
Right in front of Stark.
"How deep am I?"
It almost sounded like Schwanz was asking Stark with his ferocious grunt. He was very much not as Fern was very much enthusiastic in her response.
"D-DEEP—! SO FUCKING DEEP—! I CAN FEEL YOU IN MY—IN MY WOMB—!"
The tongue. The look. The rolled-back eyes. Dear gods, Fern was an animal in heat!
"Good. That's where I'm going to cum. Again."
"YESSS—! CUM IN ME—! FILL ME UP—!"
"I've already filled you up. Three times today."
"I DON'T—NNNNGH—I DON'T CARE—! MORE—! I WANT MORE—!"
Schwanz grinned down at her. Her face was a wreck. Violet eyes unfocused, pupils blown wide. Mouth hanging open, drool pooling in the hollow of her throat. Cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Her purple hair was a tangled mess, matted with sweat and cum and forest debris.
He'd never seen anything more beautiful.
"Beg for it," he said.
"I—what—?"
"Beg for my cum. Tell me you need it."
Fern's pride flickered somewhere deep inside her, a tiny spark that hadn't yet been extinguished. But it was so small now. So fragile. And the pleasure was so much bigger.
"P-please—! Please, Schwanz—! I need your cum—! I need you to fill me—! I need it—!"
"Louder."
"I NEED IT—! I NEED YOUR CUM—! PLEASE—!"
"LOUDER!"
"I NEED IT—! I NEED YOUR BIG FAT COCK TO FILL ME WITH YOUR CUM—! PLEASE, SCHWANZ—! PLEASE, PLEASE, PL—!!!"
A cute, moaning cut off from Schwanz slamming into her one final time and nutting. His cock pulsed inside her, spurt after spurt of thick, hot seed flooding her womb. Fern's eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. Her tongue lolled out, drool spilling in thick ropes. Her body convulsed, her pussy clamping down around him, milking every last drop from his balls.
"C-CUMMING—! I'M CUMMING TOO—! IT'S SO—IT'S SO MUCH—! SO FUCKING MUCH—!"
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then Schwanz pulled out, and the floodgates opened. A thick river of white cum leaked from Fern's gaping pussy, pooling on the moss beneath her. It kept coming, more and more, until it seemed impossible that one man could produce so much.
Fern lay there, boneless and broken, her chest heaving. Her eyes were half-lidded, her expression dazed and blissful. Cum leaked from her in a steady stream, joining the growing puddle on the forest floor.
"Haah… haah… h-haah…"
Her chest rose and fell with each haggard breath. Schwanz sat back on his heels, looking down at his handiwork. His cock was still hard. Still glistening. Still ready.
Stark stopped looking ahead and focused on the fire. He sighed.
***
The fire crackled and popped, sending sparks spiraling up into the night sky. Frieren sat on a fallen log, her grimoire open in her lap. She hadn't turned a page in twenty minutes.
Behind her, maybe thirty yards away, the sounds continued.
"AHHH—! O-OH GODS—! I'M—I'M CUMMIIIING—!"
Yeaaah, it didn't stop. Go figure. Stark sat with his back against a tree, his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His axe lay beside him, the blade reflecting the firelight. He stared into the flames.
Frieren closed her grimoire.
"We're behind schedule," she said.
Stark didn't look up. "Yeah."
"We've covered approximately eighteen percent of the distance to Vestahl in seven days. At this rate, we will arrive in roughly five weeks."
"Great."
"That is two weeks behind schedule."
"..."
The little elf tilted her head, studying him. Her luminous green eyes were unreadable, but there was something in them—something almost like sympathy. Almost.
"Fern is being loud again," Frieren observed.
From the darkness beyond the firelight, Fern's voice rose in another screaming orgasm. Stark's knuckles went white where he gripped his blanket.
"Yeah. She is."
"Does it bother you?"
Stark let out a hollow laugh. "What do you think?"
"I think it bothers you a great deal." Frieren set her grimoire aside and clasped her hands in her lap. "I also think you feel inferior to him. Schwanz, I mean."
Stark's head snapped up. "I don't—"
"Your face says otherwise. Your posture. The way you flinch every time she makes that sound." Frieren's tone was maddeningly calm, as if she were discussing the migratory patterns of birds. "You compare yourself to him. His size. His stamina. His confidence with women. It's quite obvious."
Stark opened his mouth to deny it, then closed it. "Whatever," he grumbled.
"I'm not blind, Stark. I've known humans for a very long time." Frieren glanced over her shoulder toward the source of the moaning. "I've also noticed something strange about Lord Schwanz."
"What, how good he is in bed?" Stark grimaced.
"No. Not that." Frieren paused, choosing her words. "There's an aura around his penis. It's subtle, but it's there. It might explain why—"
"AHHHH—! FUUUUHHH—! SO DEEP—! SO—SO FUCKING DEEP—!"
Fern's scream cut through the night like a knife. Stark flinched. Frieren waited for the echoes to die before continuing.
"—why Fern is so... attached to him. And why I nearly lost my composure the other night."
Stark looked at her, surprised by the admission. Frieren almost never admitted weakness. "Really? You're not just…saying that?" To comfort him on his no doubt inferior skills in the sack?
"I will keep him occupied," Frieren said. "Distract him long enough for you to have a real conversation with Fern. After they're done, of course."
"After they're done." Stark's voice was flat. "That could be hours."
"Probably." Frieren stood, tucking her grimoire under her arm. "But it's the best I can offer. You need to talk to her, Stark. This situation isn't sustainable."
She walked away, disappearing into the darkness toward her own bedroll. Stark stared into the fire.
"SO GOOD—! YOUR COCK IS SO—SO FUCKING GOOD—!"
He closed his eyes.
***
Hours later, the camp fell quiet.
Frieren found Schwanz lounging against a tree near the stream, his tunic unlaced and his eyes and lips set in satisfied contentment. The short approached him with her usual unhurried gait, her face betraying nothing.
"Lord Schwanz," Frieren said.
"Lady Frieren." He opened his eyes and flashed a smile. "A pleasure, as always."
"I need your assistance with something. A magical anomaly I detected near the stream earlier."
Schwanz raised an eyebrow. "And you need my help?"
"Why not? It may do well for experience and…your family's library contained several texts on the subject. I thought you might have insights."
It was a flimsy excuse. They both knew it. But Schwanz just shrugged and got to his feet. "Lead the way."
As they disappeared into the trees, Stark watched from his spot by the fire. He took a deep breath, pushed himself up, and walked toward the tent where Fern lay. It belonged to Schwanz, he apparently had a portable tent this whole time. He decided to use it for today for obvious reasons.
Fern was lying on her bedroll, a thin blanket draped over her body. Her purple hair was still damp with sweat, spread out around her head like a halo. Her eyes were half-closed, her breathing slow and heavy. She looked exhausted. Wrecked.
"Hey." Stark stood in the entrance of the tent, unsure whether to come in or stay out. "Can we... talk?"
"Mm." Fern pushed herself up onto her elbows. The blanket slipped, revealing the curve of her bare shoulder, the swell of her breast. She didn't bother to pull it back up. "Yeah. I guess we should."
Stark stepped inside and sat down cross-legged near the entrance. He didn't look at her directly. His eyes fixed on a spot on the tent wall just to her left.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?"
"For... everything. For calling you plump. For making you feel bad about yourself. You, uh…yeah."
"You don't have to do this anymore," was the tempting line to say. However, Stark wasn't bold enough for that. He wasn't even a hundred percent sure she liked him. Maybe he was delusional.
Fern was quiet for a moment until she let out a long, shaky breath. "It's not your fault."
"It, uh, feels like it is."
"It's not." She sat up fully, wrapping the blanket around herself. Her legs were trembling. She could barely feel them. "I... I need a break, honestly. I can barely walk."
Stark's jaw tightened. "Yeah, I noticed."
"It's just..." Fern looked down at her hands. "I can't resist him, Stark. I don't know what's wrong with me. His cock, it's just so... and he says all these things, and he convinced me that it's okay to—to want this. To want more. More men, more sex, more..." She trailed off, her cheeks flushing. "More cocks. Gods."
Yeah, even Stark couldn't believe she said that. Cocks? The old Fern would have never.
"Y-you…want more men?"
"I-I think so." Fern's voice cracked. "I thought I knew. I thought I was someone who... who had principles. Who didn't just fall into bed with the first arrogant noble who showed interest. But then he touched me, and I just... I want more of this. More penises to see and more sex to have. To live life properly…!"
Stark watched her. The firelight from outside cast flickering shadows across her face. Fern looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful. But there was something different now. Something that hadn't been there before.
"Do you love him?" Stark asked.
Fern looked up, startled. "What? No. No, I don't love him. It's not... it's not like that."
"Then what is it like?"
"It's just his cock! A-and his body! His... his cock is just..." She said the word without flinching now, without the embarrassment that had colored her speech a week ago. "It's like a drug. I know it's bad for me. I know I'm losing myself. But I can't stop."
"Why not?" Stark pressed.
"It's…not that simple."
"It could be. If you wanted it to be."
Fern's eyes met his. There was conflict there, a war between the person she'd been and the person she was becoming. "He said... Schwanz told me that I shouldn't confine myself to one man. That life is too short to limit pleasure. That exploring my body, my desires... that it's healthy. Natural."
"And you believed him?"
"I mean…I've never been so…smiley before."
True that, Stark admitted to himself.
"Part of me thinks he's right. Another part of me..." She looked away. "Another part of me thinks I'm just making excuses because I want to keep fucking him."
Stark wiped a hand down his face. He struggled to comfort her. The woman he had feelings for wanted to fuck other guys. Great. Wonderful. "I, uh…I just want you to be happy, Fern. That's all I've ever wanted."
"I…know."
"But this... watching you with him, hearing you... it's killing me. Every night. Every day. The sounds you make, the things you say... I've never heard you like that."
"Stark..."
"I know I'm not as big as him. I know I don't have his stamina or his confidence or his... whatever it is that makes women lose their minds around him. I know I'm just... me. But still."
Fern reached out and took his hand. Her fingers were cold. "It's not about size."
"Isn't it?"
"No. I mean... okay, yes, his size is... it's a lot. It's overwhelming. But that's not why I..." She struggled to find the words. "It's the way he makes me feel. Like I'm desirable. Like my body isn't something to be ashamed of. Like these—" she gestured at her breasts, her hips "—are assets instead of flaws."
"H-hey, I've always thought they were assets."
That earned a glare. "You called me plump."
"H-hey!" Stark threw one hand up. "I-I apologized for that. And I meant it. Fern, I think your body is incredible. I've always thought that. I just... I'm bad at saying things. I'm bad at..." He squeezed her hand, the one that was still holding. "I'm bad at a lot of things."
Fern looked at their joined hands. His fingers were calloused from years of wielding his axe. Scars crisscrossed his knuckles. This was a hand that had protected her, fought beside her, held her when she was scared.
"Maybe I was wrong," she said quietly. "About some things."
Stark's heart leaped. "Yeah?"
"But..." Fern pulled her hand away and hugged the blanket tighter around herself. "I still want to keep fucking him. At least while we're escorting him to Vestahl. He's... I can't explain it. I need it. I need his cock. I need what he does to me. Just for a little while longer."
"And after?"
Fern pouted. Actually pouted. "After, I'll... consider it. Being a one-man gal. With you." She looked at him, her violet eyes searching his face. "Maybe."
That "maybe" hung in the air between them like a blade. Stark felt it lodge in his chest. But he nodded anyway.
"Okay."
"Really?"
"Really. If that's what you need. If that's what it takes. Then... okay." He let out a breath that was half relief, half resignation. "I'll wait."
Fern looked like she appreciated it immensely. Stark just felt like a cuck. Some part of him, in order to gain control, wanted to kiss her. He wanted to take her in his arms and show her that he could make her feel good too. That his body, inadequate as it might be compared to Schwanz's, still wanted her. Still loved her.
"Would you..." He hesitated. "Would you want to... with me? Right now?"
Fern looked at him. For a moment, something flickered in her eyes—desire, maybe, or guilt, or a complicated mixture of both. She shook her head.
"I'm tired, Stark. I'm so tired I can barely feel my legs. I'm sorry."
"Right. Yeah. Of course." He pulled back, trying to hide the hurt. "Another time."
"Another time," she echoed. But there was no conviction in her voice. Only exhaustion.
Stark stood up and walked to the tent entrance. He paused there, looking back at her. She had already lain back down, her eyes closing, her body curling into the fetal position under the thin blanket.
"Goodnight, Fern."
"Goodnight, Stark."
He stepped out into the cool night air. The fire had burned down to embers. In the distance, an owl hooted. And somewhere deeper in the forest, two figures had disappeared into the darkness.
***
FRIEREN POV
The stream gurgled softly, moonlight dancing on its surface. Frieren led Schwanz to a small clearing where the trees opened up to reveal a sky full of stars. Beautiful, indeed. The world never stopped being beautiful.
Now, as for men…
That was a different conversation.
"This is far enough," Frieren said, turning to face the arrogant noble.
Schwanz stood with his hands in his pockets, that insufferable smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His tunic hung open, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest. Moonlight caught the angles of his face.
"So what's the real reason you dragged me out here?" Schwanz asked. "Because I know it's not river magic."
Frieren's expression didn't change. "You're perceptive."
"I have my moments." Schwanz took a step closer. "What's on your mind, Lady Frieren?"
"Your cock."
Schwanz blinked and promptly laughed. "Direct. I like it."
It was not natural. The size, the stamina, the way it seemed fuck. That pull. That voice in her head telling Frieren to worship it. "I've lived for over a thousand years. I've known hundreds of men. I've never encountered anything like it."
"And?"
"And I suspect there's more to you than you're letting on."
Schwanz's smirk didn't waver. "You think I've enchanted Fern?"
"I think you've enchanted more than Fern. But yes."
"And what if I have? What are you going to do about it?"
Frieren met his gaze. Her green eyes were hard and unafraid. "I'm going to find out the truth. And then I'm going to decide whether you're a threat that needs to be eliminated."
"Is that so?" Schwanz stepped closer. And closer. Until he was standing right in front of her, looking down at the small elf with an expression that was equal parts amusement and hunger. "You think you can resist me? You think your thousand years of experience makes you immune?"
"I'm not Fern. I won't be so easily—"
"You already almost lost yourself once. The other night. I saw it in your eyes." He reached out and tucked a strand of white hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her skin, and Frieren felt a shiver run down her spine. "You wanted to stay on your knees. You wanted to worship it. You barely pulled yourself back."
"I won't make that mistake again."
"We'll see."
Something shifted in the air between them. A tension, electric and primal. Frieren's breath caught in her throat. Her nipples tightened under her tunic. The ancient voice in her mind—the one that had whispered to her that night—stirred again.
'Kneel. Worship him. Worship his cock. You know you want to...'
She pushed it down. "I won't lose control."
Schwanz just smiled.
—then her hands were on his chest, pushing him back, pushing him down onto the soft grass, and his tunic was gone somehow, when had that happened?
Then his cock was in her hand, thick and hot and pulsing, and Frieren's mind was screaming at her to stop but her body wasn't listening—
"Already?" Schwanz laughed. "Even using magic? This is new! I haven't even done anything yet."
"Shut up. Just—just shut up."
Frieren straddled him, her small body hovering over his massive frame. Her tunic was gone. Her bodice. Her tights. Moonlight silvered her pale skin, her small breasts, her peaked pink nipples.
Who was Frieren?
A great wonderful woman that was short. Her tits were quite flat, though her ass was quite pronounced under her skirt.
She looked down at his cock—ten inches of dark, veined meat, the head already glistening with precum—and for a moment, she hesitated.
'This is a mistake. This is exactly what he wants. You're playing into his—'
Frieren dropped.
Frieren lost.
…
…
…
"Cumming, cumming, oh gooddd, CUMMIIING~!!!"
Schwanz's cock had speared into her in one brutal plunge. Her elven pussy—tight, untouched for decades, impossibly sensitive—stretched wide to accommodate him. The fit was obscene. She was so small, so slender, and he was so impossibly big.
Frieren couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but sit there impaled on ten inches of thick, pulsing cock.
How long ago had such an event transpired?
"Unhhhh! Nghgggh! Oh god, oh gods, oh Himmel—!"
Frieren cried out to all that was greater than her. All the great powers and none responded…except Schwanz's cock.
"Holy—fuck—! You're so tight! Tighter than Fern! Tighter than anyone!"
Frieren couldn't respond. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open. Her small breasts heaved. She could feel every inch of him inside her, filling her, stretching her in ways she hadn't been stretched in centuries.
His hands gripped her hips—so narrow compared to Fern's lush curves. Frieren showed him what a thousand years of experience gets a woman.
Sort of.
Her hips rose, dragging her inner walls along his shaft, then dropped again. This cock was truly unlike anything she'd ever felt. Himmel's cock had been average. The other men she'd been with over the centuries—none of them had been like this. None of them had filled her so completely, stretched her so perfectly, reached so impossibly deep.
The experience helped her. Oh yes, it was what aided in her moving and grinding and all that good stuff. Schwanz deemed her a worthy foe to conquer.
"Oh gods—! Oh gods, it's—it's so—"
"Big?" Schwanz thrust up into her, and Frieren's head snapped back. "Say it."
Yet, all the same, she was easily conquerable. Easily breakable. Yes, at long last, Frieren was not just experiencing defeat but being pushed to the breaking point.
"BIG—! IT'S SO BIG—! BIGGER THAN—NNNNGH—BIGGER THAN ANY COCK I'VE EVER—"
"Bigger than Himmel's?"
"YESSS—! YES, BIGGER THAN HIMMEL'S—! SO MUCH BIGGER—!"
Schwanz grinned and began to fuck her in earnest. His hips drove up into her with brutal, piston-like strokes. Frieren's small body bounced on top of him, her white hair flying wildly, her tiny tits jiggling. Heh, there wasn't much of a jiggle, really. Not like with Fern. Wet, squelching schlorps and the percussive plap of flesh against flesh.
"Look at you," Schwanz taunted. "The almighty Frieren. The legendary mage. Reduced to a screaming mess on my cock."
"I—I'm not—nnngh—I'm not a—AHHH—!"
"You're not what? Not just another slut who can't resist a big dick?" Schwanz grabbed her hips and flipped them, pinning her beneath him on the grass. Her legs were pushed up over his shoulders, her small, perky ass pressed against the earth. "News flash, Lady Frieren: that's exactly what you are."
"NO—! I'M NOT—! I'M—"
He thrust into her.
"FUUUUUUHHH—! FUCK—! FUCK, FUCK, FUUUUCK—!"
Frieren's eyes rolled back. Her tongue lolled out, drool spilling in thick ropes down her chin. Her ahegao face was a work of art: all composure gone, all dignity shattered, replaced by the vacant, cross-eyed expression of a woman being fucked senseless. This was the legendary mage who had defeated demons, who had stood beside the hero Himmel, who had lived for over a thousand years. And she looked like a common whore drooling on a cock.
"That's it," Schwanz grunted, pounding into her with relentless rhythm. "Take it. Take all of it. You thought you were better than Fern? You thought your centuries of experience would protect you?"
"C-CAN'T—! I CAN'T—!"
"You can't what? Can't resist? Can't fight it? Can't stop yourself from loving this cock?"
"YESSS—! I CAN'T—! I CAN'T RESIST—! IT'S TOO—NNNNGH—IT'S TOO GOOD—! IT'S RUINING ME—!"
"Louder."
"IT'S RUINING MY ELF PUSSY—! YOUR COCK IS RUINING ME—!"
Schwanz flipped her onto her stomach. Her face pressed into the grass, her small, perky ass raised in the air. He mounted her from behind, his hands gripping her narrow hips, and began to fuck her with brutal, jackhammer thrusts.
PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—!
"BACKSHOTS—! FUCK—! YOU'RE GIVING ME BACKSHOTS—!"
"That's right. How's it feel, Frieren? How's it feel to get railed like a common whore?"
"AMAZING—! IT FEELS AMAZING—! DON'T STOP—! DON'T EVER STOP—!"
There was not tot the fat, rippling bounce of Fern's massive cheeks, but a smaller, tighter tremor that Schwanz found equally satisfying. He spanked her. The sharp crack of his palm against her pale flesh echoed through the clearing.
"Not as much to grab as Fern," he taunted. "Her ass is a masterpiece. Yours is, hah, adequate."
"S-SHUT UP—! SHUT UP ABOUT—ABOUT FERN—!"
"Her tits are better too. Massive, perfect melons. Yours are barely a mouthful."
"MY TITS ARE—NNNNGGGH—THEY'RE FINE—!"
"Sure they are. For an elf. But compared to a real woman like Fern?" He thrust deeper, harder. "You don't even come close."
Frieren's response was lost in a guttural shriek. Her small hands clawed at the grass, ripping up clumps of earth. Drool poured from her slack mouth, soaking the ground beneath her. She had never—never—been fucked like this. Not by Himmel. Not by any of the dozens of lovers she'd taken over the centuries. This was something else. Something that bypassed her mind entirely and spoke directly to her body.
"I'M—! I'M GOING TO—!"
"Cum for me, Frieren. Cum on this cock."
"CUUUUMIIIIIING—!"
Frieren lost. She lost. She lost, she lost, she lost. Her orgasm proved it. Her orgasm was the fucking stamp. She convulsed, her back arching so violently that Schwanz had to hold her hips to keep her from throwing him off. Oh yes, elf orgasms were faaar more reactionary than human's. "Haha, good to see! Good to learn!"
Thrust! He kept thrusting. Her ultra-tight pussy clamped down on his shaft with desperate, rhythmic contractions, milking him, gushing around him. Clear fluid sprayed from her, soaking his thighs, the grass, her own trembling legs.
Frieren became boneless and gasping. But Schwanz wasn't done.
He flipped her onto her back, pushed her legs up, and buried himself inside her again. Frieren's eyes flew wide.
"S-S-S-Schwwwaaaanz~!!"
"You can. You will. I'm going to cum inside you, Frieren. I'm going to fill this ancient elven pussy with so much cum you'll be leaking for days."
PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—!
Those fucking ass jiggles. Pale and not larger than Fern's yet much more jiggley. Schwanz thought it was pert and firm. He was wrong. This was a fucking jello of an ass and the hole he was fucking was taut as could be. Two extremes inside one woman.
He loved it.
PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—! PLAP—!
"I love this cunt! I'm gonna fucking bust!"
"NNNNGH—! YES—! YES, DO IT—! FILL ME—! FILL YOUR ELF SLUT—!"
That grin on his face was victory itself. "Who's the slut now?"
"I AM—! I'M THE SLUT—! I'M YOUR SLUT—! NOW CUM IN ME—! CUM IN MY RUINED ELF PUSSY—!"
"There it is! Good girl!" With that lovely grin, Schwanz slammed into her one final time he gave her spurt after spurt of thick. It was so much. It was always so much. Frieren felt it filling her, felt it leaking out around his shaft, felt it dripping down onto the grass beneath her.
Frieren didn't sound like Frieren. Frieren didn't look like Frieren. All that badass macho stuff was gone. "C-CUMMING—! I'M CUMMING AGAIN—! IT'S SO—IT'S SO MUCH—! SO FUCKING MUCH—!" There was this whore with rolled back eyes and a mouth that was the total opposite of flat.
Spurt, spurt, spurt!
It was a long, long creampie. An even longer minute went by when Schwanz pulled out.
"Haah…! This was fun!"
There echoed thick schlorp in the quiet clearing. His cock emerged nearly white, coated in a mixture of her juices and his cum. A thick strand of white connected the tip of his cock to her gaping, cream-filled pussy, stretching, stretching—
Snap!
The strand broke.
Frieren lay on the grass, her small chest heaving, her eyes half-lidded and unfocused. Cum leaked from her used cunt in a steady stream, pooling on the ground beneath her. She was a mess. Sweat coated her pale skin. Drool still dripped from her chin. Her white hair was tangled with grass and dirt.
She had never looked less like a legendary mage.
Schwanz sat back on his heels, looking down at her. His cock was still hard. Still glistening. Still ready. Balls still hanging. He did this a lot. It was a habit. He did this to say, "I can still go and you can't." He smirked.
"Not so immune after all, Lady Frieren."
Frieren didn't respond.
She had passed out.
The great elven mage, defeated, fucked, and utterly conquered, lay unconscious on the forest floor. Above her, the stars wheeled in their ancient patterns. The stream burbled on, indifferent. And somewhere in the distance, a campfire burned low, where a young warrior sat alone, waiting for a dawn that would change nothing.