The Goblin's Pet

(masteraudio:"stopall")(set:$name to "Aldric")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/neutral/1.png")(set:$map_position to (a: 768, 1351))(set:$map to "img/maps/map 1.jpg")(live:1s)[(live:3s)[(stop:)($play:"song","intro music")]($play:"ambience","village morning")](chapter_title:1,"The Hero's Departure")Her teeth catch my shoulder through sweat and morning light. That's how I know ($lorebook_entry:"Elara","people")'s already awake. She always bites when she wants something. "Going somewhere, hero?" Her voice drips honey and mischief. Auburn hair spills across our sheets like wine, and those sapphire eyes would make a lesser man forget his own name. Fortune favors me. I've never been lesser.(playwhenread:"going somewhere hero") (pic:"ch01/elara.jpg","right","My darling wife!")Outside, ($lorebook_entry:"Eboncrest","places") groans awake. Cart wheels on cobblestone, the baker's daughter cursing at flour sacks, old Henrik arguing with his mule about the meaning of forward. My town. My people. But right now, my wife's got her thigh hooked over mine and her fingers tracing the scar where that wyvern nearly took my liver three summers back. "Mayor wants me at the west gate by second bell," I tell her, but my hands are already contradicting my words, tracing each knob of her spine, down to where her waist kicks out into those hips. Hips that have ruined better men than me. "Second bell." She grins, wicked as a blade. "That's ages from now." Dawn's barely cracked. The bedroom still holds night's chill, but Elara's skin burns fever-hot against mine. Always does. Like she swallowed dawn whole and keeps it burning somewhere beneath that freckled flesh. "You're thinking with your sword again," she teases, grinding against me just enough to prove her point. "Both of them, apparently." That earns me a laugh. Six years wed and she still unravels me. She rolls on top of me. The full weight of her settles across my hips. Warm thighs squeeze, tits sway heavy as she adjusts, nipples drag across my chest. Morning light catches the copper in her hair and she looks like something men start wars over. She rolls her hips in slow circles, grinding down, and every thought I've ever had turns to soup. "Focus, soldier." She pins my wrists above my head. As if she could actually hold me down. "Yes, ma'am." (simple_option:"01 Elara","Be romantic.","Take her roughly!")

($play:"song","intro music")($play:"ambience","village morning indoors")(if:$choice is "Take her roughly!")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/grin/1.png")(playwhenread:"think youre in charge")I flip her like she weighs nothing. "Think you're in charge?" My voice comes out rougher than intended. She tries to wiggle free, laughing, but I pin both her wrists with one hand. The other yanks her nightgown up, bunching white linen around her waist. That perfect peach of an ass exposed in morning light, pale as cream, soft as sin. "Someone's feeling brave this mor-" **CRACK.** My palm meets her ass, the sound echoing off our bedroom walls.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.55,"pulseMs",120,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Aldric!" But she's already pushing back, wanting more. "That's 'sir' when I've got you bent over." Another spank, harder. Her flesh jiggles, turns pink under my hand. "Or would you prefer the whole street knows what we're doing?" "Like they don't already-ah!" I grab a fistful of auburn hair, pull her up on all fours. "They're about to know exactly how Aldric the Great breeds his woman." (pic:"ch01/doggystyle.jpg") One thrust and I'm buried to the hilt. She's soaked. Ready since she woke, the greedy thing. So tight I have to lock my jaw to keep from finishing right there. We both groan.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.42,"peakTo",0.55,"baseFrom",0.04,"baseTo",0.03,"intervalFrom",520,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",50,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",20,"intensityJitter",0.09,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.08)) "Fuck! Warn a girl before you-" "Before I what?" I pull almost all the way out, slam back home. "Before I take what's mine?" The bed frame bangs against the wall. Good. Let every gossip in Eboncrest know I'm putting a baby in my wife before I go kill their monsters. "Flux take me-ngh-you're insatiable!" "You *love* being taken like a tavern wench." I reach around. Her clit's swollen and ready. "I'm your-*ah!*-your wife, you *brute*!" "My wife who's about to scream loud enough to wake the baker." I stop holding back. Each thrust drives her forward on the sheets, and her asscheeks ripple and clap against my hips. **PLAP PLAP PLAP.** The wet, meaty sound of a woman getting properly fucked. Her back arches deeper, showing me everything, and she's so wet it's running down her thighs. "Go on, love. Let them hear you." (unless:(count:$hidden_gems, "She squeals and shrieks, sweetly submitting, sublimely stretched.") > 1)[(notification:"HINT: look for text with lots of alliteration - they might hide **hidden gems** 💎, which give you extra **redo points** to try different story options. Different branches can have extra gems! **Try clicking the sentence after this!**")](hidden_gem:"She cries out in ecstasy as I claim her.","She squeals and shrieks, sweetly submitting, sublimely stretched.") (pic:"ch01/doggystyle insert.jpg","right","Perfect fit, like Whisperwind to sheath.")"You're going to-*fuck*-split me in half!" "You can take it." I pull her hair tighter, force her back to arch. The new angle makes her gasp. "Taken worse from me on our wedding night." "That was-oh gods-different!" "How?" Another spank, watching her asscheek jiggle. "Because the whole inn heard you then too?" She pushes back to meet every thrust, six years of rhythm between us. Her nightgown's completely bunched around her ribs, tits swaying freely beneath her. I lean over, grab one, squeeze just hard enough. "Aldric! I'm-I'm close!" "Already? We've barely started." But I rub her clit faster, knowing exactly the pressure she needs. "Come on then. Cum on your husband's cock like a good little wife." **SPANK!** "I'll-*ah!*-kill you for that-later!" "If you can still walk later, I haven't done my job." That does it. She screams as her pussy clamps down on me. Her whole body shakes, and I have to grip her hips hard to keep fucking her through it. The wet sounds get louder, obscene, perfect. "That's one," I growl. "Want to go for two before I breed you?" "You cocky-oh FUCK!" I've shifted angle again, hitting that spot inside her that makes her clench. She's so wet now it's running down both our thighs. "Listen to that," I tell her, punctuating with a particularly hard thrust. "That's the sound of a well-fucked wife." "Going to-ngh-put me through the mattress!" "Then you'll remember this while I'm gone." I lean down, bite her shoulder through the nightgown. "Remember who you belong to." I grab a big handful of that gorgeous ass. Flux's balls, this woman. Her pussy starts fluttering again. Close. I reach around with both hands now, one on her clit, one pulling her hair. "Cum for me, Elara. Show Eboncrest how their hero's wife takes his cock." She does. Harder than before, her whole body going rigid then exploding into shakes. The neighbors definitely heard that one. Good. "My turn," I grunt, feeling the tightness building in my balls. "Yes! Give me-give me everything!" (pic:"ch01/doggystyle creampie.jpg","left")I slam home one final time and explode.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",7,"peakFrom",0.72,"peakTo",0.12,"gapFrom",500,"gapTo",880,"attackMs",75,"holdMs",190,"releaseMs",240,"gapIntensity",0,"curve","soft","intensityJitter",0.07,"gapJitter",0.10,"aftershocks",2,"aftershockIntensity",0.08,"aftershockGap",1800,"aftershockWidth",170)) My cock pulses hard, pumping rope after rope of cum deep inside her. I hold her hips bruisingly tight, making sure she takes every drop, grinding against her ass as I empty my balls completely. "*FUCK,* Elara!" It comes out as a roar. Let them all hear. Let them know Aldric the Great is putting an heir in his wife's belly. She's still cumming, her pussy milking me for everything I've got. "That's it, that's it, fill me up!" I keep grinding into her, working my cum deeper, until we're both shaking and gasping. When I finally pull out, I watch my seed immediately start dripping from her well-fucked pussy. "Mine," I say, giving her ass one more slap. "Possessive bastard," she pants, collapsing onto the bed. But she's grinning, flushed from her hairline to her tits, my seed already leaking onto the sheets beneath her. "The whole street probably thinks you're murdering me." "I was. Slowly. With love." She throws a pillow at me, laughing so hard her whole body shakes. I flop down beside her, both of us sweaty and ruined. "And you love me." "($lorebook_entry:"Ephemerals","things") help me, I do." She cuddles into my side, nightgown still bunched around her middle. "Think that one took?" "If volume of screaming affects conception, we're having twins." We both dissolve into laughter. Gods, I love this woman. "Now get up," she says, poking my ribs. "I need to look the baker's wife in the eye later." "Tell her you were just thanking your husband for his heroic service." "I'll tell her you're a beast who can't keep his hands to himself." "Also true." She kisses me, slow and sweet. "My beast though." "Always."](if:$choice is "Be romantic.")[I let her hold my wrists for a heartbeat, two, then surge up to kiss her. The kind of kiss that makes her melt, makes her grip loosen. I taste the mint leaves on her tongue, feel her pulse quicken where my lips find her throat. "Mmm, there's my hero," she sighs, releasing my wrists to thread her fingers through my hair. Morning light paints her skin gold and cream. Every freckle stands out like constellations I've mapped a thousand times. I run my hands up her thighs, feeling muscle under silk-soft skin. She trains with me sometimes, insists on knowing how to defend herself. Makes her legs strong. "You're so perfect," I murmur against her collarbone. "Flatterer." But she's already rocking against me, slow and deliberate. "You just want what's under my nightgown." "It IS in the way," I sit up, bringing her with me so she's straddling my lap. "You must admit." (pic:"ch01/undress.jpg","right","Six years and I still forget to breathe.")She laughs, squirming away and peeling the nightgown over her head. Arms up, back arched, tits bouncing free, heavy and round, fat pink nipples already stiff from the cold. That waist I can almost span with both hands, then the flare of her hips, the soft pouch of her belly she hates and I worship. The little scar on her ribs from when she tried to rescue that cat from the Henricks' roof. Six years and the sight of her naked still makes me stupid. Like now. "What?" she asks, suddenly shy under my gaze. "Just remembering why I married you." "My sparkling personality?" "Your apple tarts." She shoves my shoulder, laughing. "Ass." "That too." I cup it, pull her closer. She's already wet against me, leaving slick heat on my stomach. "But yes, I suppose your personality's good too." "Just good?" She rises up on her knees, reaches between us to position me. "Let me remind you how GREAT it is." She sinks down slowly. So slowly I might die. Her pussy accepts me inch by inch, velvet heat that fits me like she was made for me. We both groan when she's fully seated, pressed together from chest to groin.(playwhenread:"elara orgasm")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","forever",true,"base",0.22,"amplitude",0.14,"periodMs",3200)) "Fuck, Elara..." "Every morning," she breathes, starting to move. "Every morning you act surprised." "Every morning IS a surprise with you." (pic:"ch01/cowgirl.jpg") (bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.34,"peakTo",0.48,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",650,"intervalTo",480,"attackMs",60,"sustainMs",85,"releaseMs",120,"rampBeats",22,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.10,"depthJitter",0.06))She rides me like she kneads bread: steady, purposeful, devastating. Each time she rises I see my cock gleaming wet with her, and each time she drops her ass slaps against my thighs with a sound that could wake the dead. Her tits bounce wild, heavy flesh swaying in circles that hypnotize. Her belly flexes. Her mouth falls open and she makes this breathy little "uh-uh-uh-" on every downstroke that I will hear in my grave. (unless:(count:$hidden_gems, "Her pleasure pulses and peaks, perfectly played passion painting paradise.") > 1)[(notification:"HINT: look for text with lots of alliteration - they might hide **hidden gems** 💎, which give you extra **redo points** to try different story options. Different branches can have extra gems! **Try clicking the sentence after this!**")] (hidden_gem:"Her pleasure builds steadily, beautifully.","Her pleasure pulses and peaks, perfectly played passion painting paradise.") Birds sing outside our window. A cool breeze carries the scent of her garden, rosemary and lavender and the last of the autumn roses. But all I smell is her. Honey and female musk, the faint trace of the jasmine oil she rubbed into her skin last night. "Touch me," she whispers. I know what she needs. My thumb settles on her clit, circles gentle but firm. My other hand cups her breast, rolls the nipple between my fingers. She gasps, rhythm faltering. "That's it, love. Let go." "Not yet-want to-oh gods-together-" "We've got time." I sit up straighter, changing the angle. Now I can kiss her while she rides me, can swallow her moans. "I want to feel it when you cum." She does. My name on a broken whisper as her whole body trembles. Her pussy clenches around me in waves, trying to pull me deeper. I hold her through it, kiss her temple, breathe in the scent of her hair. "Well done," I murmur. She's still shaking when she starts moving again, oversensitive but determined. "Your turn." "Elara, you don't have to-" "Shh." She pushes me back down, pins my shoulders. "My hero needs his strength today." The new angle does something incredible. Every stroke hits deep, her ass slapping against my thighs in a rhythm as old as time. I grip her hips just to hold on: the roll of them, the muscles working under all that soft skin, all of her alive against all of me. "I love watching you like this," she says, breathless. "All that control, gone. Just you and me and this." She leans down, changes the angle again. Now her breasts press against my chest, her lips against my ear. "I want you to cum inside me, Aldric. Want to feel you let go. Want to carry part of you with me all day while you're gone." "Elara-" "Maybe this time," she whispers. "Maybe this time it'll take." (bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.40,"peakTo",0.52,"baseFrom",0.05,"baseTo",0.03,"intervalFrom",560,"intervalTo",400,"attackMs",45,"sustainMs",70,"releaseMs",105,"rampBeats",18,"intensityJitter",0.07,"intervalJitter",0.12,"depthJitter",0.07))Her voice cracks on the word *take.* I roll us over. Need her closer. Need her under me. She wraps her legs around my waist, pulls me deep, and we move together like we're one creature. Slow, deep thrusts that build like thunder in the distance. (pic:"ch01/missionary.jpg","The morning sun climbs higher, painting bars of gold across our tangled bodies.") "Yes," she breathes. "Flux and Verge, you fill me so perfectly..." Her nails rake down my back, just enough to ground me in the moment. In her. The morning sun climbs higher, painting bars of gold across our tangled bodies. Sweat makes us slip against each other, adds to the breath and moans and the wet music of our joining. "Close," I warn. "Me too. Again. How do you always-oh GODS-" Her second orgasm clamps down on me like a fist. Her legs lock around my waist, heels digging into my ass, pulling me deeper. Her whole body goes rigid, belly pressed tight against mine, tits crushed between us, and I can feel her heart hammering through both our chests. I bury myself to the root and let go. Each pulse fills her and she gasps with it, fingers clawing my back, milking me with every flutter and squeeze. The sounds I make against her throat are barely human.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",8,"peakFrom",0.68,"peakTo",0.10,"gapFrom",620,"gapTo",1100,"attackMs",105,"holdMs",250,"releaseMs",290,"gapIntensity",0.02,"curve","soft","intensityJitter",0.05,"gapJitter",0.08,"buildMs",1400,"buildFrom",0.08,"buildSteps",7,"aftershocks",3,"aftershockIntensity",0.06,"aftershockGap",2200,"aftershockWidth",190)) (pic:"ch01/missionary creampie.jpg","Take it all, love. Every fucking drop.") "That's it," she murmurs, stroking my hair as I shake. "Every drop is mine." We stay joined as our breathing slows, trading lazy kisses. A breeze cools our heated skin. Somewhere outside, the baker's rooster crows late, and we both laugh. "Think that worked?" she asks, hand drifting to her stomach. "And if it didn't?" I kiss her nose. "The trying's the best part anyway." "Flirt." But she's smiling, that special smile that's just for me. "Now get off before my legs go numb." "Romantic." "You love it." "I love YOU." "Good answer, hero." She stretches beneath me, all satisfied cat. "Now come on. I'm making honey cakes and you need to eat before you go play with those goblins."] (pic:"ch01/post sex.jpg")(display:"divider") Twenty minutes later, we're in the kitchen. Elara's humming while she works at the stove, wearing nothing but my tunic from yesterday. It hangs to mid-thigh on her, loose at the collar so one freckled shoulder peeks out. Every time she reaches for a shelf, the hem rides up and I get a flash of bare asscheek, round and pale, still pink from my handprints. She knows exactly what she's doing. The hem drops. She reaches for something else. The other cheek this time. The smell of woodsmoke bacon fills our little cottage, along with something sweet. She's making honey cakes again. Thick slabs of brown bread wait on the table, alongside a pot of apple butter and fresh churned cream. Simple fare. Elara makes it a king's feast. "Stop staring at my ass and sit down," she says without turning around. "How'd you know?" "I know all your looks." She glances over her shoulder, winks. "Especially that one." I sit and watch her work: efficient, practiced, worth watching. She sets a plate in front of me: bacon crispy as autumn leaves, two honey cakes still steaming, bread thick with apple butter. My stomach growls appreciation. "So," she says, settling across from me with her own plate. "Goblins at the mine?" (simple_option:"01 Comfort","'Just pest control, love. Nothing serious.'","'Actually could be tricky. They've fortified.'","'Remember that green bastard from our wedding? His cousins showed up.'")(redos:"update")

(set:$se_to_stop to "elara orgasm")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($play:"ambience","elara cooking")(pic:"ch01/breakfast.jpg","left","She's got something running down her leg. Wonder who did that!")(if:$choice is "'Just pest control, love. Nothing serious.'")["Just weeding the stone garden, love." I tear into a honey cake, still hot enough to burn my fingers. Worth it. "Just plucking weeds before they choke the crop." She sets down a mug of bark tea with more force than necessary. "That's what you said about the cockatrice." "The cockatrice barely nicked me." "You came home with half your chest hanging open!" I catch her wrist, gentle. "That was two years ago. And I learned my lesson about checking corners." "Did you?" Worry, not anger. I can read it in how she keeps touching things: the table, her locket, the bread knife. "Because Giles offered to go with you. Said so yesterday at market." "Giles." I snort. "Good man with a sword, but ($lorebook_entry:"Goblins","beasts") don't give a thrack about swords. They care about fire. Wind. The kind of forces that make them remember why they used to fear humans." "They *used* to fear us?" "Before they learned we're soft." I pull her onto my lap. She resists for half a heartbeat, then melts against me. "That's why they're getting bold. Coming out of the eastern wastes, sniffing around our borders. Testing." "Testing for what?" I don't answer that. Don't tell her about the patterns I've been noticing. She's got enough to worry about. (hidden_gem:"The bacon breaks between my teeth, salt and smoke singing.","The bacon breaks and bursts between my teeth, bringing bright, briny bliss.") "You're doing that thing," she says against my shoulder. "What thing?" "That thing where you go quiet because you think I can't handle the truth." Six years and she reads me like one of her garden almanacs. "The *truth* is," I say carefully, "twelve goblins in a mine is nothing. The truth is I've cleared three times that many from tighter spaces. The truth is-" (vid:"img/ch01/concerned.mp4") "The truth is you're going alone." She pulls back, pins me with that drowning-deep stare. "Again." "Someone has to stay and protect the town." "From what? Mean old Mrs. Curdsworth and her attack chickens?" That makes me laugh. "Those chickens *are* vicious." She doesn't smile. "Train more knights, Aldric. Like you used to. Before you decided you had to do everything yourself." "I don't do everything-" "Name the last threat you let the guard handle." I open my mouth. Close it. She's got me there. "See?" She stands, starts clearing plates with sharp, efficient movements. "The great Aldric. Has to bear every burden. Fight every fight. Because gods forbid someone else might-" "Might die." The words come out harder than intended. "Might die because I wasn't there. Because I let them go instead." The plate in her hand stills. "Oh, love." "Goblins go for the eyes first," I tell her. "Then the throat. Then they drag you down and let the little ones practice their knife work while you're still breathing. I've seen it. I've seen what happens when good men underestimate them." She sets down the plate, comes back to me. Her hands frame my face. "And you've seen what happens when you try to carry the world alone. You come home bleeding. Every time, a little more of you doesn't come back." Her being right doesn't change what needs doing. "After the mine," I promise. "After I clear it, I'll talk to Giles about training. Maybe take on a few of the younger guards. Teach them what to watch for." "Really?" "Really." I kiss her palm. "But today, I make sure those green bastards remember why they stay in the wastes." She sighs but nods. "At least eat more first. You burned a lot of energy this morning." "Whose fault is that?" "Yours." She turns back to the stove, and yes, she's absolutely making sure I see how my tunic rides up. "You're the one who married me." "Best mistake I ever made." "Mistake?" She spins, brandishing a wooden spoon like Whisperwind. "Best decision. Best blessing. Best-" "Better." She points the spoon at my plate. "Now eat. Heroes don't fight on empty stomachs."](else-if:$choice is "'Actually could be tricky. They've fortified.'")["Actually could be tricky." I drag my thumb along the table's grain, thinking. "Scout reports say they've fortified. Barricades. Maybe even crude traps." Elara pauses mid-pour, honey dripping from the pot. "Fortified? Since when do ($lorebook_entry:"Goblins","beasts") fortify?" "Since about three months ago." I keep my voice level. No need to worry her with speculation. "Started seeing it out near the border settlements." "That's not normal goblin behavior." "No." I tear off a chunk of bread, use it to soak up the bacon grease. "It's not." She abandons the honey entirely, sits across from me. "Aldric. What aren't you telling me?" "Nothing confirmed." But I can see she won't let this go. "Someone's teaching them. Or something. The patterns are too deliberate. Too..." I search for the word. "Human." "Human?" Her voice pitches higher. "You think someone's helping them?" "I think someone's using them." Big difference. "Goblins are tools. Always have been. The question is who's wielding them now." She reaches across the table, grips my hand. "Then you definitely shouldn't go alone. If they're organized-" "If they're organized, they're still goblins." I turn her hand over, trace the calluses from her garden work. Strong hands. "Fire still makes them scatter. Wind still throws off their aim. And Whisperwind still cuts through them like parchment." "But if there's someone behind them-" "Then I'll find out who." I squeeze her fingers. "That's my purpose. I track. I hunt. I end things." "You make it sound so simple." "It is simple. Just not easy." (hidden_gem:"Morning light makes her hair look like burnished copper.","Morning light makes her mane magnificent, molten copper catching countless colors.") She pulls her hand back, stands abruptly. "Giles could help. He offered yesterday." "Giles is a good soldier. But soldiers make noise. Soldiers follow patterns." I watch her pace, nervous energy crackling off her. "I need to be smoke today. Silent. Unpredictable." (vid:"img/ch01/concerned.mp4") "You need to be careful." "I'm always-" "Don't." She whirls on me. "Don't say you're always careful. Not when you came home last month with troll poison in your veins. Not when you-" "That was different." "How?" "That was a troll. This is goblins." "Organized goblins! Fortified goblins! Goblins with a puppet master!" She's spiraling. I stand, catch her shoulders. "Elara. Look at me." Those sapphire eyes are bright with unshed tears. Shit. "I've been fighting goblins since I was fourteen," I tell her. "My first kill was a goblin. My first scar-" I guide her hand to the pale line on my ribs, "-was a goblin. I know them. Know how they think, how they move, how they smell when they're afraid." "But-" "And they know me." I let that sink in. "The ones who survive? They tell stories. About the human who brings wind and fire. Who moves through shadows. Who leaves no survivors when they threaten what's his." Her breath shudders out. "You're trying to scare me." "I'm trying to be honest. You wanted honest." "I wanted reassuring!" "Then be reassured." I pull her close, feel her heart racing against mine. "Twelve goblins in a mine, organized or not, are still just twelve goblins. I've faced worse with less. And I always, always come home to you." She makes a sound that's half laugh, half sob. "You better. We're trying for a baby, remember? Can't do that if you're dead." "Wouldn't dream of it." I kiss the top of her head. "Besides, who'd eat all your honey cakes?" "Giles, probably." "Over my dead body." "That's what I'm trying to avoid!" But she's smiling now, crisis passed. "Fine. Go. Be the hero. But if you're not back by sunset-" "You'll come looking. I know." I give her ass a quick pat as I head for the stairs. "Keep that tunic on. I want to peel it off you when I get back." "Presumptuous." "Confident." "Same thing with you!" she calls after me. She's not wrong.](else:)["Remember that green bastard from our wedding?" I wave my honey cake for emphasis. "His cousins showed up." Elara's eyes narrow. "Aldric." "He was very rude. Didn't even bring a gift." "There were no ($lorebook_entry:"Goblins","beasts") at our wedding." She's trying not to smile. Failing. "They do love parties though. All that screaming and chaos-" The wooden spoon hits my shoulder. I catch her wrist, pull her onto my lap. "I'm seriously going to kill some goblins." "You're seriously impossible." But she's melting against me, can't help it. We fit together like Whisperwind in her sheath. "Here's serious." I kiss her neck, that spot that makes her shiver. "They're dug into the Ironrock. Got there three nights ago. Probably found the old overseer's office, think they're clever." "And?" Her fingers find my hair. "And they're about to learn what happens when goblins get too close to what's mine." Another kiss, just below her ear. "The mine. The town." Kiss. "You." (hidden_gem:"Her heartbeat quickens against my chest.","Her heartbeat hammers, heavy and hot, a hummingbird's hunger against my chest.") "You can't just-mmm-distract me with-" "Watch me." I stand, lifting her with me. She squeaks, wraps her legs around my waist. "I've been killing goblins since before Eon's beard went gray." "Your confidence is going to get you killed." "My confidence got me you." She pulls back, studies my face. Those eyes, winter-lake blue and fathoms deep, see everything. The jokes. The bravado. The cold certainty underneath. "Burn them all." "Every last one." "Good." She kisses me, fierce and quick. "Now put me down. Heroes don't fight on empty stomachs, and you've barely touched your bacon." "I've been touching something better." "Eat your breakfast, you *beast!*"] (display:"divider") (playwhenread:"miss me")($lorebook_entry:"Whisperwind","other") waits on her stand like a patient lover. The morning light through our bedroom window makes her shimmer, the color of lightning frozen mid-strike. I lift her, feel her weight settle into my palm like a handshake. Always true. The enchantments hum against my skin. Something dreams inside the blade. Whisperwind's alive in her way. Waiting. Eager. (pic:"ch01/whisperwind.jpg","gif","Hello, beautiful. Ready to dance?") "Miss me?" I murmur, checking her edge. Still sharp enough to split sunlight. The wind runes along her fuller pulse faintly, responding to my touch. My armor takes longer. Elara helps with the buckles I can't reach, her fingers steady and practiced. Six years of this routine. Six years of sending me off to danger. "Too tight?" she asks, adjusting the pauldron.(playwhenread:"too tight")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.5,"pulseMs",160,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Perfect." She always asks. I always say perfect. It's our ritual, important as any prayer to the ($lorebook_entry:"Ephemerals","things"). (pic:"ch01/armor.jpg","right","From husband to hero in twenty pounds of steel.")The breastplate goes on last. Mythril-touched steel, worth more than our house. Worth it, though. How many blades it's turned that should've killed me. "There." Elara steps back, surveys her work. "My hero, ready for war." "It's just goblins, not a war." "Every fight's a war when you might not come home." I kiss her, deep and thorough. "I'll come home." "You better." (display:"divider") ($play:"ambience","village morning")Eadric the merchant's loading his cart outside the Silk & Steel. Sees me coming, straightens. "Aldric. Heard about the mine." "Rumor has legs." "So do goblins." He eyes Whisperwind. "Need anything? Got new whetstones from the capital. Some decent torch oil." "I'm good, Eadric." "Course you are." He turns back to his cart, then pauses. "My daughter wants to know if you'll teach her swordwork." "After I clear the mine, we'll talk." His relief's visible. "Appreciated." The kids find me at the fountain. Seven of them today, wooden swords and pot-lid shields, playing at heroes. "Aldric! Aldric!" Little Sara, gap-toothed and fierce. "You gonna fight monsters?" "Just goblins." "Goblins ARE monsters!" This from Tom, who's decided he's my second-in-command. "My da says they eat babies!" "Your da's trying to scare you into bed on time." "Are not!" "Are too!" I let them squabble, but I'm watching the shadows. Watching how the morning light falls. Calculating angles, distances. These kids don't know how close the darkness really is. Don't know what waits past their walls. Good. Let them play at heroes a little longer. "Aldric's gonna win," Sara declares. "He always wins. That's why he's The Great!" "Nobody always wins," I tell her, serious now. "But I always try." "That's the same thing!" If only. (simple_option:"01 mayor","Speak with the mayor.")

(set:$se_to_stop to "elara orgasm")(display:"stop sound effect")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/neutral/1.png")(set:$se_to_stop to "intro music")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(set:$se_to_stop to "ironrock theme")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(pic:"ch01/eboncrest.jpg","right","Eboncrest rises where the Pitchwater meets pine.")($play:"ambience","village morning")($lorebook_entry:"Mayor Bramble","people") finds me at the west gate, already sweating through his doublet. But the man keeps Eboncrest running smooth as dwarf-forged steel, and that counts for something. "Aldric." He's breathing hard from the walk. Probably came straight from his morning ledgers. "Thank the ($lorebook_entry:"Ephemerals","things") you're here." "Mayor." I adjust Whisperwind's weight at my side. The guards at the gate give us space, but they're listening. "The situation at Ironrock-" He mops his forehead with a silk kerchief that costs more than most miners see in a month. "We've had to halt all operations. That's three days of ore we're not pulling. The smelters sit idle. The whole supply chain to the capital is backed up behind them." (hidden_gem:"A cart rumbles past, loaded with turnips from the valley farms.","A creaking cart crawls past, crammed with cold, coarse turnips from the river-valley rows.") The driver, old Henrik's boy, tips his cap to me. I nod back. Kid lost two fingers to a wyvern last harvest. Still drives better than his father. "How many men did you lose?" I ask. "None dead, Flux be praised. But seven injured in the retreat. They say the goblins have built *something* down there. Barricades. Maybe worse." His jowls quiver with each word. "Miners are talking about structures. Old stonework they broke through last week." My spine straightens. "Stonework?" "Old things. Carvings. The kind the scholars in Thuulk pay gold for." He drops his voice. A kid kicks a leather ball past us, chasing chickens. "The goblins found it first?" "Seems so. Moved right in once our boys broke through." Bramble pulls a scroll from his vest. "The mine foreman drew this. What they could see before they ran." I study the rough sketch. Pillars. Arched doorways too tall for dwarves, too ornate for early human work. My jaw tightens. "I'll clear them out," I tell him. "Send the miners back tomorrow morning with a double guard shift." "Tomorrow? Aldric, there could be dozens-" "There aren't." I hand back the scroll. "Dozen, maybe fifteen at most. Goblins can't think past their next meal. They find a hole, they squat in it until someone makes them leave." (pic:"ch01/bramble.jpg","Bramble's built like a baker's mistake: too much dough, not enough time in the oven.") Mrs. Fletcher waddles up, her arms full of fresh bread. "Morning, Mayor. Aldric." She pushes a warm loaf into my hands. "For the road. Can't have our hero fighting on an empty stomach." "Already ate, Mrs. Fletcher. My wife-" "That lovely Elara made you breakfast, did she?" Her eyes twinkle. "Good. Girl knows how to keep a man's strength up. When are you two giving us some little warriors to run around town?" The mayor coughs. "Mrs. Fletcher, perhaps-" "We're working on it," I say, which makes her cackle and waddle off. Bramble watches her go, then turns back to me. "The iron shipments to the capital are already two days behind. The guild representatives are breathing down my neck. If this isn't resolved-" "It will be." "You're certain you don't need support? Captain Giles has volunteers-" "Giles is a good man and a good fighter." I check my pouches: sulfur, salt, the usual implements. "Goblins in a mine need fire and wind to keep things clean. It will be close quarters. Can't have a bunch of guards getting in each other's way." He nods, but his face says he's calculating lost revenue by the hour. "You'll send word about what's down there?" "After I burn out the goblins." "Of course. Of course." He's already backing away, eager to return to his numbers and ledgers. "The town's counting on you, Aldric. As always." "As always." He hurries off, probably to threaten the mining guild with penalties if they don't resume operations tomorrow. I head for the gate. The guards straighten as I pass. "Send them to the Hollow, Aldric," one mutters. (simple_option:"01 leave for ironrock","Journey to Ironrock Mine.")

(set:$se_to_stop to "intro music")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($play:"ambience","everbloom daytime ambience")(map: (a: 768, 1351),(a: 1050, 1473),(a: 1191, 1704),(a: 1230,2026),(a: 1010,2225),(a:340,2232)) The King's Road carries me west through morning mist. Pine needles crunch under my boots, that sharp green smell mixing with damp earth. The forest here grows thick, old growth that remembers when goblins were just bad dreams told to children. Three miners trudge toward me, pulling a handcart loaded with personal effects. Walking with the slow certainty of men who'd seen enough. "Morning, Aldric." The lead miner, Henrik's cousin by his jaw, doesn't quite meet my eyes. "Figured we'd see you coming." "How many?" I ask. "Can't say for certain." He spits tobacco juice into the ferns. "Enough. They came up through the new shaft we broke last sennight. The one with the old stonework." "Anyone hurt?" "Not our team. Bruises. Pride, mostly. We locked the upper galleries and got out clean." He shifts the cart handles. "They're settling in. Like they plan to stay." I nod. "Mine'll be clear by sunset. Tell Bramble to send the next shift at dawn." They continue west. I continue east. The forest knows what's coming. Birds gone quiet, even the insects holding their breath. (hidden_gem:"The cart path south is rougher, meant for ore wagons, not heroes.","The cart path south is rougher, rutted and raw, really meant for mineral movers, not mounted mercenaries.") Fresh wheel ruts cut deep in mud. Someone left in a hurry. Probably with a full load, too. Then I smell it. Goblin stench hits like a wall. Unwashed bodies layered over something worse, the musk of things that rut in darkness and eat their own dead. My gorge rises. I breathe through my mouth, but that's worse. Now I can taste it. (pic:"ch01/mine.jpg") The path opens into the mine's staging area. Abandoned equipment everywhere. Pickaxes dropped mid-swing, lunch pails still steaming, a card game interrupted, copper coins scattered across a crate. They didn't run. They just left. Orderly. Like they knew exactly what not to fight. Dark stains on the ground near the entrance. Goblin marking fluid, acrid and territorial. They're claiming territory. My jaw clenches thinking of what that means. In the frontier villages, girls disappear. Not killed. Worse. Kept. Bred. Some get rescued sennights later, hollow-eyed and babbling. Some get found years later with broods of green-skinned spawn, too far gone to even remember their own names. Not here. Not in my territory. The entrance yawns before me. Fresh goblin tracks in the mud: clawed feet, some dragging weapons, one set dragging something heavier. My hand closes on Whisperwind's grip. The blade hums, eager. Good. Because behind that stench, beneath the musk and territorial pissing, I smell stone dust. Old stone dust. Whatever the miners broke through last week, the goblins found it first. They'll have numbers, knowledge of the tunnels, maybe crude traps. They'll fight dirty: groin strikes, eye gouging, hamstring cuts. They always do. I crack my neck. Flex my fingers. The killing-calm settles over me like old armor. Heartbeat slows. Breathing deepens. Time to remind them why goblins used to hide from men. (simple_option:"01 mine","Draw your sword.","Prepare your magic.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/combat/1.png")($play:"song","ironrock theme")($play:"ambience","goblin cave")(if:$choice is "Draw your sword.")[(pic:"ch01/enter cave.jpg","right")The darkness swallows me whole. Mine air lands heavy in the chest: thick, wet, with weight behind it. My eyes adjust slow. The entrance tunnel slopes down, support beams every ten feet. Some are cracked. Some are missing. The floor's uneven where cart tracks cut grooves decades deep. Whisperwind slides from her sheath. The faint scrape of steel on leather sounds loud as thunder down here. I keep the blade low, ready for the upward cut that opens goblin throats.(playwhenread:"draw sword") Right hand on the wall. Always keep contact in the dark. The stone sweats, groundwater seeping through limestone. My fingers trace tool marks, then something else. Scratches. Fresh. Goblin claws marking territory like dogs pissing on posts. I test each plank before trusting my weight. Second rule of mine fighting: the ground lies. Goblins love pit traps, love watching men fall onto stakes smeared with their shit. The wood groans but holds. Deeper now. The stench thickens. Unwashed bodies, rotting meat, and underneath it all, that sweet-sick musk. My stomach clenches. There. A broken helmet in the muck. Not dropped. Crushed. Tooth marks punch through the iron like it's parchment. Whatever bit through this wasn't satisfied with just killing. The tunnel branches ahead. I can hear them now, that chittering speech that sounds like someone choking on their own tongue. At least three voices. Maybe five. They're not trying to hide. Why would they? This is their domain now. I drop to one knee, scoop a handful of pebbles. Whisper the word that wakes wind. <span class='wind'>"Ventusfury."</span>(playwhenread:"wind magic") Just a breath of magic, enough to carry the pebbles' rattle down the left passage. The chittering stops. Good. (pic:"ch01/goblin scratch.jpg","left")The main passage opens into a wider chamber ahead. I can make out their shapes: three goblins arranged in a loose picket line. The other two have rusty mining picks, probably pulled from dead men's hands. They're focused on the side passage where my pebbles landed. The dance begins. (hidden_gem:"My heartbeat slows to fighting rhythm: that cold, steady pulse that comes before violence.","My heartbeat hammers into heroic harmony, that cold, calculated cadence that comes before carnage.") (simple_option:"01 combat","Take them quietly, one by one.","Feint rush.","Misdirection - Split them up, divide and conquer.")](else-if:$choice is "Prepare your magic.")[Magic. Scholars view it as a conversation; I view it as a truncheon. Application trumps raw power. A wizard might level this whole hillside, certainly, and bury us all in a thousand tons of rock. I use magic the way a butcher uses a boning knife: seeking the joint, severing the connection, wasting nothing. The hedge wizard who taught me was Gannis, dying of gut-rot in a ditch outside Westmarch. He grabbed my wrist when I gave him water. "Not... charity," he'd gasped through blood-foam. "Payment." Three days I sat with him while he died. Three days he poured the Telenil battle-tongue into my skull. The war words. The cuts and thrusts of combat casting. "Shape... matters more than... than power," Gannis had wheezed, his fingers forcing mine into the proper forms. "The Telenil know... thousand years of... of killing with grace." <span class='wind'>Ventusfury.</span> Wind as weapon, scout, and voice. <span class='ice'>Glacieshold.</span> Ice-grip. But deeper: the moment water chooses sides, becomes wall or trap or death. <span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span> The difference between light and cremation.(playwhenread:"fire spell") Any fool can say the words. Hand-shapes, breath-timing, intent: that's what makes fire obey. (pic:"ch01/magic.jpg","Ventusfury in its smallest form, a mouse's breath of wind.") I pause at the first support beam. Thumb and forefinger snap, barely a sound. It tells me everything: air flows toward me along the floor (they've got fire deeper in), away from me at head height (gas pocket forming). Sweet-rot smell like overripe pears. Firedamp. One spark up there and we all cook. My left hand forms the ice-ready position: three fingers curved like holding a river stone. The mine's moisture beads on my palm, ready to become whatever I need. Two frozen coins already pressed to my belt, door seals if needed. The cold helps me think. Ahead, water drips. But the rhythm's wrong. Too regular. Drip. Drip. Drip-drip. Another micro-pulse of wind, directed left into a side passage. It comes back tasting of leather and goblin piss. They're there, waiting. I roll my shoulders, feel Whisperwind's weight shift. The blade's quiet. It knows this is spell-work first. My right hand practices the Ignisurge forms: thumb-spark for precision, two-finger lance for cutting. Gannis made me drill these until my fingers bled, to distract himself from his own pain. "The Telenil," he'd said on his last day, "they see magic as... as conversation. You're not commanding. You're... convincing. Fire wants to burn. Ice wants to still. Wind wants to move. You just... suggest directions." The tunnel splits ahead. Both passages dark, but the darkness has different qualities. Left is thick with bodies and barriers. Right is thin, open space but angled wrong. I palm one ice coin. The moisture in the air crystallizes along my knuckles, eager. Ready. Something shifts in the left passage. Metal on leather. My boot lands on a dry patch in the tunnel floor. Too dry. Everything else is seeping moisture, but this one square yard is bone-dry. I sidestep, pressing against the wet wall. Another wind-pulse, this one carrying a pebble's sound to that dry spot. *Thwick.* A sling stone cracks where I should have been standing. Behind a slotted screen twenty feet ahead, someone curses in goblin. Sounds like "Grashk." Blood-debt comes due. The rime spreads from my palm across the tunnel floor, invisible in the dark, thin as paper, cold enough to seize. If they rush, they'll hit it like a wall. My left hand maintains that while my right forms the spark position. Gannis's last words bubble up from memory: "Magic isn't... isn't strength. It's knowing. Know what burns. What freezes. What moves. Then... then you just... help it along." No risk at hand-height. The gas floats. I let it fly. The slat screen explodes in light. A goblin squeals. Night vision murdered. I taste copper and smoke, but controlled. Surgical. Something deeper in the mine drums once. They know I'm here. They know I'm hunting. Good. (simple_option:"01 combat","Freeze them into a choke point.","Carve through with fire.")]

(if:$choice is "Take them quietly, one by one.")[The cross-brace hangs low, meant for mining carts, not men. I slide beneath it, spine scraping wood, Whisperwind reversed in my grip. The first goblin never sees me coming. My pommel strikes the soft spot where skull meets spine. The crack is wet, muffled. He drops like a sack of grain. I catch him before he hits ground, lower him silent into the muck. His sling stones scatter. I palm three. The second goblin starts to turn. I'm already moving. Whisperwind knows this dance. The blade shifts in my hand, a living thing that remembers every fight we've shared. I bring her up in a reversed grip, the false edge finding the sweet spot under his jaw. The cut is clean, surgical. He tries to scream but I've already opened his windpipe. Just a wheeze and he's down, drowning in his own blood. The third one sees his partner fall. <span class='wind'>"Ventusfury,"</span> I breathe.(playwhenread:"wind magic") The slinger's raising his weapon. My wind pushes his elbow just as he releases. The stone meant for my skull cracks into the ceiling instead. He's fumbling for another stone when Whisperwind's point catches his heart. Three heartbeats. Three corpses. I wipe the blade clean on the slinger's rags. That's when I see them. Human eyes threaded on gut-string like a necklace. Still wet. Still warm. The irises are blue. (hidden_gem:"The silence that follows is worse than screaming.","The silence that settles seems sinister, suffocating, a serpent's slow squeeze.") Deeper in, I hear shuffling. Careful movement. They know something's wrong but not what. Let the wondering gnaw them hollow. The tunnel narrows ahead, then opens into what must have been the overseer's station. I can see lamplight bleeding around a doorframe. They're falling back, trying to fortify. (simple_option:"01 barricade","Advance on the barricaded office.")](else-if:$choice is "Feint rush.")[($play:"sound","fire small")The ore wedge sits loose against the wall, a triangular chunk of iron meant to split rock. My boot sends it clattering loud as thunder. All three goblins turn toward the sound. I'm already moving the opposite direction. Three long strides right, making sure my boots ring against stone. The slinger tracks the sound, arm drawing back. The two with picks start forward. Then I cut left, hard. Whisperwind sings, that sweet metallic note that means death is coming. The blade catches what little light exists down here, becomes a silver arc in the darkness. <span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell") Fire blooms from my left hand. A blinding flash, nothing more. Brilliant orange light explodes across their night-adapted eyes. They shriek, hands flying to their faces. Whisperwind takes the first goblin at the knees, parts flesh like water, skyforged edge through bone like bread. He topples. My return stroke opens his throat before he hits the ground. The second swings wild. I step inside the arc, shoulder into his chest, pommel into his nose. Spin the blade. His guts hit the floor before he understands he's dead. The slinger blinks, loads a stone. I throw the gutted corpse at him. It hits him square and I'm already lunging, Whisperwind threading his ribs, leaning on the blade until I feel it scrape against his heart. His eyes go wide, then empty. I pull the blade free. A necklace of human eyes hangs around the slinger's neck on gut-string. Still glistening. Irises blue as summer sky. The sound of my attack echoes deep into the mine. Chittering voices rise in alarm. Feet slapping on wet stone. Lots of feet, moving fast. They're retreating deeper, toward the lower galleries. (simple_option:"01 barricade","Pursue them into the depths.")](else-if:$choice is "Misdirection - Split them up, divide and conquer.")[The pebble arcs through the darkness. As it flies, I whisper: "Ventusfury." Wind carries the stone further than any throw should, bouncing it off the far wall with a crack that echoes like a whip. Two goblins immediately peel off, picks raised, chittering excitedly as they investigate. Perfect. <span class='ice'>"Glacieshold."</span>(playwhenread:"ice magic") Ice spreads from my palm, racing across the floor in a thin sheet. It pools around the ankles of the remaining goblin and the slinger, freezing their feet to the stone. They shriek, trying to pull free. The two investigating goblins hear their panic, start to turn back. Too late. Whisperwind slides free with the sound of a lover's sigh. The blade knows my intent before I do, already shifting its weight for the work ahead. I move like fever through blood, like grief through a widow's house. The first goblin rounds the corner into my thrust. Whisperwind takes him through the eye, the tip punching out the back of his skull with a wet crack. I don't even slow, just let his momentum carry him off the blade as I pivot toward his partner. This one manages to raise his pick. I let him. The pick comes down. Whisperwind rises to meet it. The weapons clash, crude iron against skyforged steel, and the pick shatters like glass. Metal fragments pepper his face. While he's screaming, I open him from groin to throat with a rising cut that parts flesh like silk. Back to the frozen ones. The slinger's managed to load a stone despite his trapped feet. He releases. I don't dodge. I *flow* around it, Whisperwind's flat redirecting the projectile into the wall. The blade continues its arc, taking his hand at the wrist. The hand hits the ground still clutching the sling. The last goblin's torn his feet free, leaving skin behind on the ice. He hobbles toward a side passage, mewling. Whisperwind's point finds his spine. He drops, paralyzed but breathing. I step over him, following his terrified gaze. A necklace of human eyes hangs between two posts like a grotesque banner, threaded on gut-string. Still wet. Still warm. The irises are blue. Behind me, the paralyzed goblin whimpers. I finish him quick. He doesn't deserve quick, but I need to move. More voices echo from below. They're retreating, but organized. Controlled. (simple_option:"01 barricade","Pursue them into the depths.")](else-if:$choice is "Freeze them into a choke point.")[The corridor ahead bends left. A cluster of goblins wait. I can smell them. Time to teach them about ice. <span class='ice'>Glacieshold.</span>(playwhenread:"ice magic") The word flows through my fingers as I shape the spell. Ice spreads from my palm across the tunnel floor, sloping into a clean V that funnels toward the doorway ahead. I leave a raised ridge down the middle. Their feet will slide sideways into the trap. I tap Whisperwind's pommel against the left wall. The sound echoes. "Grashk! There!" A goblin voice, excited. Young. Stupid. The slinger steps into view. Green skin glistening with sweat, yellow eyes wide, erection tenting his loincloth because violence always gets them hard. He draws back his sling. <span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell") My fingers snap forward. A line of pure heat cuts the air, visible for just a heartbeat, bright as lightning, thin as wire. The sling cord parts mid-swing. The stone drops. The goblin stares at his useless weapon. "KILL HIM!" Two more goblins charge around the corner, feet hitting my ice. Beautiful. They slide immediately, arms windmilling. The V-shape does its work. Both skid inward toward the center ridge. One trips. The other stumbles over him. They're tangled, cursing, trying to stand on ice that won't let them. <span class='ice'>Glacieshold.</span>(playwhenread:"ice magic") This time I'm specific. Ice forms around their ankles. Thick, instant, permanent. They're welded to my trap. "Magic!" one screams. "He's using-" <span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell") A thumb-flick sends a spark into the slinger's eyes. He shrieks, pawing at his face. Behind him, two more goblins appear. One's carrying an oil pot. (hidden_gem:"The oil-bearer's eyes go wide with fear.","The oil-bearer's orbs open in overwhelming, overt terror.") The fear hits them now: they're not fighting some lucky human. They're fighting someone who turns combat into art. The oil-carrier panics, hurls his pot. <span class='ice'>Glacieshold.</span>(playwhenread:"ice magic") Ice springs from my forearm. A shield, paper-thin but harder than steel. The oil splashes against it. <span class='wind'>Ventusfury.</span>(playwhenread:"wind magic") Wind shoves the oil back along the ice floor, under their feet. <span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell") A tiny spark. The oil ignites behind them, cutting off retreat. They're mine now. I stride forward down the center ridge, balanced while they slip and scramble. The ankle-frozen goblins try to swing at me. I'm already past them. My boot crushes the first one's knee sideways. The crack echoes. My elbow catches the second's jaw. Teeth scatter across ice like dice. The slinger's still blind, sobbing. A head-butt drops him. The remaining two goblins jam in the doorway, trying to flee the flames behind them. Perfect. (simple_option:"01 barricade","Burn them with oil backwash.","Crush them in an ice coffin.")](else-if:$choice is "Carve through with fire.")[(pic:"ch01/blind.jpg","right")The tunnel opens up. Six. No, eight goblins. Green skin glistening with mine-damp, wearing scraps of leather and stolen mail. The nearest one grins, showing teeth filed to points. They think numbers matter. <span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell") Fire blooms from my palm, a wave of orange death that rolls forward at waist height. The front two goblins shriek as their leather burns through, flesh blistering instantly. They drop their rusted blades, stumbling back into their brothers. I step through the gap I've made. A goblin lunges from my left. My shoulder, plated in steel, catches him in the teeth. Bone cracks. As he staggers, I pivot, bringing my right hand around in an arc. Fire follows the motion, a burning whip that catches three of them across their bellies. The smell of charred meat fills the tunnel. They're screaming now. At the back, one goblin clutches a clay jar. Oil, by the way he holds it like a baby. His yellow eyes are wide, measuring the killing-space between us. Another has a sling, stone already whirring. The stone clips my cheek. Too close. I drop to one knee, left palm snapping forward. A fist-sized fireball punches through a wooden shield, exploding behind it. The goblin holding it falls backward, chest smoking. The others freeze for a heartbeat, that beautiful moment when bravado becomes terror. (hidden_gem:"They see it in my eyes now. I'm not defending. I'm hunting.","They see it in my stance, my stride, my stare: I'm not defending. I'm destroying, decimating, demonstrating dominance.") The oil-carrier's hands shake. His cock has shriveled back into his loincloth. Fear does that. (simple_option:"01 barricade","Use their oil.","Chain them down.")]

(if:$choice is "Advance on the barricaded office.")[(pic:"ch01/door.jpg","The door's solid oak reinforced, meant to protect payroll from desperate miners.")I can hear them inside. Furniture scraping. Bottles clinking. They're building a barricade, but they're also preparing something else. The smell of lamp oil cuts through the usual goblin stench. The office overlooks the main shaft through a narrow window. Smart defensive position, if I hadn't fought in a hundred rat's nests just like it. They've stacked desks against the door. Through the gap beneath, I see shadows moving. Four, maybe five. Two near the back are doing something with clay jugs. Oil bombs. Typical goblin tactics. When you can't win clean, burn everything. The door won't budge. They've braced it well.(vid:"img/ch01/blast.mp4","right") <span class='wind'>"Ventusfury!"</span>(playwhenread:"door explode") I don't whisper it this time. I roar it. Wind explodes from my palms, a hammering gale that hits the door like a giant's fist. The wood splinters. Iron bands buckle. The entire frame tears free from the stone, crashing outward and bringing the desk-barricade with it. I'm through before the dust settles. The room's smaller than expected. Fifteen feet square, ceiling sagging with timber rot. An oil lamp swings from a chain, casting wild shadows. Two goblins with jugs of oil stand frozen by the back wall. Three others scramble over the destroyed furniture, reaching for weapons. Whisperwind takes the first one across the eyes. The blade moves like thought, no gap between decision and action. Blood sprays across yellowed invoices still tacked to the wall. (hidden_gem:"The second goblin raises a rusty cleaver.","The second savage swings a serrated, steel slicer skyward.") I let him swing. At the last second, I step inside his reach, catch his wrist with my free hand. My knee drives into his elbow. The joint bends backward with a crack like breaking kindling. While he screams, Whisperwind opens his throat. The oil-throwers are recovering. One's got a burning rag ready. <span class='ice'>"Glacieshold!"</span> Ice erupts across the floor, racing up their legs, freezing the oil in their jugs solid. The one with the burning rag drops it in panic. The flame hits the ice, sputters out. The remaining two goblins charge together, mining picks raised. Smart. Coordinated attacks are harder to counter. Whisperwind flows through the Seventh Form, an extension of arm, rage, and thirty years of killing. Deflect, redirect, riposte. Their picks spark against skyforged steel. One goblin's momentum carries him past me. Whisperwind's edge bites through his hamstring. He falls, screaming. The last one backs against the wall, pick trembling in his grip. I advance slow. Let him see death coming. He drops the pick, falls to his knees, chittering what might be prayers or pleas. Doesn't matter. My boot crushes his windpipe. The room goes quiet except for the hamstrung goblin's whimpering. I scan the space: mining charts, duty rosters, payroll ledgers. And there, nailed to the wall with a pick through the center: the accident report log. The page is turned to last sennight. "Breakthrough into older workings. Three injuries. Unstable ground." Below it, written in what looks like blood: "OURS NOW." I finish the hamstrung goblin. The silence feels heavy, wrong. Through the window overlooking the main shaft, I see torchlight moving far below. Lots of torches. They're massing at the bottom, near the new breakthrough.](else-if:$choice is "Pursue them into the depths.")[(pic:"ch01/sump.jpg","right","Seepwater pools in natural karst pockets; violet cave-caps fatten on bat guano and iron drip.")The goblins know these tunnels now. Every twist, every dead end. They're not running scared. They're leading me somewhere. The passage opens into a natural cavern, ceiling lost in darkness. Water drips steady, has for centuries, forming pools that swallow my torchlight and give back only my face, distorted. The air tastes wrong. Thick, sporous, makes my throat itch. White mushrooms carpet the far wall, each one the size of a dinner plate. Some pulse with internal light. The pools between me and them are still as glass, maybe ankle deep, maybe bottomless. I see them now. Five goblins crouched on the far side where the floor rises again. They're not attacking. They're waiting. One grins, showing filed teeth. I step toward the water. The instant my boot touches the pool's edge, the mushrooms explode. Spores fill the air. A white cloud that burns my eyes, my lungs. I stagger back, coughing. Through tears, I see the goblins moving, spreading out to flank. They knew exactly where I'd step, exactly when the spores would burst. <span class='wind'>"Ventusfury!"</span> Wind tears through the cavern, but careful. Too strong and I'll spread the spores everywhere. Just enough to create a clear channel of air. I pull my shirt over my mouth, breathe shallow. They're coming through the water now, picks raised. The leader's halfway across when I spot it: a miner's lamp still burning beneath the surface, its light wavering through two inches of crystal-clear water. A warning. Or bait. (hidden_gem:"The first goblin erupts from the pool.","The first fiend flies forward from the fetid, festering fen.") He's been hiding underwater, breathing through a reed. His pick swings for my knee. I pivot, bring Whisperwind down in a silver arc. The blade cleaves through his skull, splits him to the teeth. Gore splashes into the pool, turning the water pink. Two more rush from the left. My boots slip on the slick stone. Exactly what they planned. I go down on one knee, Whisperwind coming up in a desperate parry. Their picks spark against the blade. One overextends. I grab his ankle, yank him into the water. He goes under thrashing. Back on my feet. The remaining goblins circle, careful now. They've seen what Whisperwind can do. One feints left. I don't take the bait. Another throws a handful of mushroom paste. It splashes across my chest, burns through my shirt like acid. Pain sharpens everything. <span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span> Fire blooms in my palm. Not at them. At the water. Steam explodes upward, boiling the goblin I pulled under. His screams bubble up through the water. The steam also clears the spores, gives me room to breathe. The last three charge together. Whisperwind moves in the Ninth Form, the Reaping Wind. The blade becomes a silver blur, impossible to track. I take the first goblin's arm at the elbow. The second loses his head. It rolls into the pool with a splash. The third tries to run. I let Whisperwind fly. The blade spins through the air, guided by wind and will. It takes him between the shoulders, punches through his chest. He falls face-first into the shallow water, green blood spreading like oil. I retrieve my sword, scan the cavern. No more movement. But on the far wall, carved in the stone beneath the mushroom grove: arrows pointing down, and below them, that same phrase in blood: "OURS NOW." The passage continues, sloping sharper. I can hear drums now. Deep, rhythmic. They know I'm coming.](else-if:$choice is "Burn them with oil backwash.")[<span class='wind'>Ventusfury.</span> I reverse the wind. The burning oil I'd pushed away now surges forward, riding my ice like a flaming wave. It washes up their legs, soaking into their rags. <span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span> One spark at chest height. They ignite like torches. Screaming, thrashing, trying to beat out flames that won't die. The doorway clears as they stumble backward into their friends. Fire spreads through the cluster. Goblins are greasy creatures, they burn well. I keep my ice shield raised, wind pushing smoke away from me. The screaming stops after four heartbeats. The crackling continues longer. When it's done, I step through charred meat and melted fat. The smell would make a lesser man vomit. I've smelled worse. The corridor opens into the main shaft, a circular pit with wooden platforms spiraling down. More goblins below, their drums suddenly silent. They've heard their brothers die. Fear makes them stupid.](else-if:$choice is "Crush them in an ice coffin.")[<span class='ice'>Glacieshold.</span> Ice drops like a guillotine blade behind the jammed goblins, sealing them into the doorway. They're pressed between their dead brothers and my frozen wall. <span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span> I draw two fingers across the air. The heat-lance burns tiny holes through the ice at eye level. The beams punch through. One goblin loses an eye, another his throat. They can't even fall, packed too tight. <span class='wind'>Ventusfury.</span> Wind presses against the ice wall. It groans, cracks, surges forward. The goblins compress. Bones snap like kindling. The ice shatters sideways in bloody chunks, taking most of them with it. One survivor crawls from the wreckage, dragging himself by his fingernails. I step on his spine. Crunch. The corridor opens into the main shaft, a circular pit with wooden platforms spiraling down. More goblins below, watching me emerge from their dead brothers' tomb. They've gone quiet. Smart ones are already backing toward the lower levels.](else-if:$choice is "Use their oil.")[My boot scrapes the floor, deliberate. The oil-carrier flinches, jar sloshing. Perfect. "Drop it," I tell him. He doesn't. His grip tightens. Behind him, two others raise their blades, trying to find courage in fellowship. Adorable. I kick the floor. My steel boot strikes sparks. One spark is all I need. <span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span> A line of fire races across the stone toward them. Controlled, precise, beautiful. The oil-carrier panics, tries to throw the jar. Too late. I'm already moving, two long strides and a leap off the tunnel wall. My armored knee catches the jar, driving it up under his chin. The jar shatters. Oil sprays. Mid-air, I twist, both hands spreading wide. Fire erupts from my palms, down and out, away from the beams, turning the oil mist into a rolling wave of flame that washes over the clustered goblins at knee height. They scream. They burn. They fall. I land in a crouch among the dying. One still moves, crawling. A quick burst of flame to his back ends it. Another tries to run. Fire licks his ankles, dropping him. The tunnel behind me is clear. The tunnel ahead echoes with drums. They know I'm coming. Good.](else-if:$choice is "Chain them down.")[The oil-carrier clutches his jar like salvation. I'll make it his funeral pyre. <span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span> First fireball, chest-high, quick as a curse. It hammers the lead goblin's shield, heat exploding along the stone wall. The shield drops, smoking. The goblin drops, screaming. Without moving my feet, I scoop my left hand low. A second fireball rolls across the floor like a burning wheel, exploding at their shins. Two goblins dance backward, leather wrappings on fire. The oil-carrier raises his jar, either to throw or drink. Doesn't matter. Third fireball. Overhand, like skipping a stone. It cracks the jar at the neck. Oil fountains forward, away from the ceiling beams, directly into my next gesture. <span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span> Fire streams from my palm, igniting the oil spray. The flame blooms outward in a tight cone, washing over the remaining goblins without touching timber. Controlled devastation. Surgical hellfire. They're all screaming now. Some dropping, some running. One charges through the flame, blade raised, flesh already peeling. My plated fist meets his jaw. The blade clatters away as he falls. I step through them while they burn. Each footfall deliberate, unhurried. A goblin on his knees tries to grab my leg. I press my palm to his head. A brief touch of fire. He falls silent. The last two back against the far wall, weapons forgotten. One pisses himself. The other whimpers something about 'Storak.' I raise my hand. They run. I snap my fingers three times. Each snap births a small flame that flies to the tunnel lanterns, lighting them in sequence. The space blooms orange and shadow. Any goblin watching from deeper in sees my silhouette framed in fire, stepping over their burning dead.](simple_option:"01 shaft","Continue to the main shaft.")($play:"song","ironrock theme")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/combat/2.png")The main shaft opens before me like a throat. The hoist mechanism dominates the space. Massive wooden wheels and hemp ropes thick as my arm. The cage hangs halfway down, swaying slightly. Below it, lit by goblin torches, I see what the miners found. They broke through into something ancient. The stone down there is different: black, polished, carved with symbols that squirm when you stare too long. K'tarran. Has to be. A dozen goblins cluster around the breakthrough. One wears a headdress of human teeth and finger bones. Their shaman. He's drumming on a shield, the rhythm matching something deeper, older. The stones themselves seem to pulse with it. Between them and me: forty feet of vertical shaft and a half-lowered cage. Time to remind them why humans conquered this world. I grab the hoist rope, wrap it around my waist. Then I cut the brake. The cage plummets. I plummet with it, controlling my descent just enough not to die. The goblins shriek, scatter. Twenty feet. Ten feet. Five. I let go. Landing hard, I roll forward, come up with Whisperwind already moving. The blade takes the closest goblin across the belly. His guts spill onto stone older than kingdoms. (pic:"ch01/post fight.jpg","Another debt paid in the dark.") <span class='wind'>"Ventusfury!"</span>(playwhenread:"wind magic") Wind explodes outward, sending three goblins tumbling. One goes over the edge into the shaft. His scream echoes all the way down. The shaman keeps drumming, faster now. The carved stones glow brighter. Two goblins with shields block my path. They move together, trained. I feint left, they track. I go right, they're ready. Fine.{(set: $pb_form to "aldric") (set: $pb_hpMax to 100)(sethp:100) (set: $pb_magicSealed to false) (set:$portrait to "img/battle/aldric.png") (set:$battle_backdrop to "img/ch01/underground city.jpg") (set: $enemy_portrait to "img/battle/enemies/goblins/goblins.png") (sethp: 100) (battle: "01 combat minigame", "Goblins", (dm: "heroism", $heroism, "form", $pb_form, "magicSealed", $pb_magicSealed, "hpMaxVar", "$pb_hpMax" ) )}($play:"song","cave combat")

($play:"ambience","cavern evil")($play:"song","ironrock theme")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[<span class='ice'>"Glacieshold!"</span>(playwhenread:"ice magic") Ice spreads beneath their feet. They slip, shields dropping just an inch. Enough. Whisperwind threads the gap, opens the first one's throat. I shoulder-check the second, send him sliding across the ice into the wall. His skull cracks against stone. The shaman's drumming reaches crescendo. The carved archway behind him starts to hum. No more time for clean kills. <span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell") Fire erupts from both hands. A roaring wave that washes over the remaining goblins. They scatter, burning, screaming. The shaman tries to maintain his rhythm but his headdress catches fire. He drops the drum, rolling on the ground. I walk through the flames. Too fast. The ice I laid, my own ice, has melted in rivulets where the fire washed across it. The stone beneath shines wet, black, treacherous. My boot finds the slick and for one terrible instant I am not Aldric the Great, hero of Eboncrest, slayer of wyverns and trolls. I am simply a body obeying gravity. My ankle rolls, not badly. I've fought through worse, but it costs me half a heartbeat. My weight shifts wrong. Whisperwind's arc falters mid-swing, her tip catching stone instead of goblin flesh, and the impact judders up through my wrist. The goblin I meant to kill does not die. He is small. Barely three feet, green as pond-scum, eyes like diseased egg-yolks. His pick is rusted iron that wouldn't cut cheese. He smells of piss and rotting meat and that sweet-sick musk that makes my stomach clench. He does not swing at my chest or throat. A warrior would. A soldier would. He swings at my knee. The pick-point punches through the gap in my greave where the joint flexes. Barely an inch of corroded metal in the meat behind my kneecap, but the leg buckles. I go down on that knee, Whisperwind scraping sparks from stone, and the world narrows to a single point of white-hot wrongness where my body has been breached. "GRASHK!" The goblin screams it like triumph. "GRASHK-THRACK! DOWN! DOWN!" I bring Whisperwind around. The blade should take his head. Would have taken his head, if not for the second goblin I thought I'd killed against the wall. Skull cracked. Done. He's crawled through his own blood to wrap both arms around my sword-wrist. His grip is nothing. Weak as a child's. I could shake him off in an instant. But an instant is what I do not have. The pick comes down again. Same knee. Deeper. I hear the crunch of metal on bone, feel it as a sound more than a sensation, and then I am falling sideways because that leg no longer answers to my will. "Ventus-" A rock catches me across the temple, dropped by the burned goblin who has stopped rolling and started killing. The word dies in my throat. Wind magic requires breath and focus; I have neither. Stars burst behind my eyes, hot and white, and through them I see shapes converging. Three. No, four. The ones I burned are dead, truly dead, but I miscounted in my hubris. There were more in the shadows. "Humie bleeds," one rasps. They do not rush. They have learned, these goblins. Learned from watching their kind die, learned from the stories whispered around their dung-fires, learned that even a wounded hero can take lives if you give him room to swing. They circle. I try to rise. My ruined knee screams and folds. I catch myself on one hand, Whisperwind still clutched in the other, and for a moment I am simply a man on all fours in a hole in the earth, bleeding onto stone that doesn't care. "Fire-man," the shaman wheezes. He has crawled back from the archway, hand crushed, headdress gone, patches of his scalp showing pink and weeping where his hair burned away. But he is smiling. "Fire-man got no fire now." He's right. The flame-casting drained me. The ice before it drained me further. I have enough left for one spell, maybe two, but not enough to clear the room. Not enough to kill four goblins and a shaman and make it back up that shaft and ride home to Elara. Elara. The thought of her face breaks something loose in my chest. I roar, formless, animal, and lunge at the nearest goblin. Whisperwind takes his arm off at the elbow. But my lunge becomes a fall, because you cannot lunge on a knee that is more hole than joint, and I go down hard on my shoulder and the impact tears Whisperwind from my grip. She spins away across the wet stone. The skyforged blade that has drunk the blood of a hundred monsters comes to rest against the shaman's ruined hand. He picks her up. "Booyagh," he breathes, and his eyes go wide at the hum of wind-runes against his palm. "Booyagh-sparkly."(simple_option:"01 die","They take their time...")](else:)[($play:"song","dead city")<span class='ice'>"Glacieshold!"</span>(playwhenread:"ice magic") Ice spreads beneath their feet. They slip, shields dropping just an inch. That's all I need. Whisperwind threads the gap, opens the first one's throat. I shoulder-check the second, send him sliding across the ice into the wall. His skull cracks against stone. The shaman's drumming reaches crescendo. The carved archway behind him starts to hum. No more time for clean kills. <span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell") Fire erupts from both hands. A roaring wave that washes over the remaining goblins. They scatter, burning, screaming. The shaman tries to maintain his rhythm but his headdress catches fire. He drops the drum, rolling on the ground. I stride through the dying heat. Whisperwind finds each burning goblin, ends their agony quick. The shaman crawls toward the archway, reaching for a horn made from human bone. My boot comes down on his hand. Bones crack like twigs. He looks up at me, eyes wild with pain and a terror that has nothing to do with me. "Too late," he gasps in broken common tongue. "Already... waking..." Whisperwind through his eye ends his riddles. The silence after slaughter always feels wrong. Blood steams on cold stone. The shaman's drum rolls to a stop against my boot. I kick it aside and study the breach. The miners' picks punched through limestone into something else entirely. The hole is ragged on this side, but beyond it, the stone is smooth as a drowned man's eye, black as the space between stars. (simple_option:"01 ruins","Step through the breach.")]

They take their time. This is what I learn in the space between living and dying: goblins are patient when the outcome is assured. They are not berserkers drunk on violence. They are scavengers, carrion-feeders, and they have learned across a thousand generations that thrashing prey injures scavengers. So they wait and let me bleed. The shaman crouches just out of reach, Whisperwind laid across his knees like a trophy. He strokes her blade with his good hand, leaving smears of green-black blood on skyforged steel. "Pretty," he murmurs. "Pretty-sharp. Cut-cut-cut all the Grikzit boys." "Grikzit," I repeat. The word comes out wrong, bubbled through something wet in my throat. "That's your tribe." "Grikzit strongest." He shows his teeth. They are filed to points, stained yellow-brown, and several are missing. I try to wipe it away. My arms don't want to cooperate. One of the goblins has tied my wrists behind my back with a leather cord that might be human skin. I've stopped tracking which is which. The binding isn't tight. It doesn't need to be. I cannot rise. "Twelve Grikzit this morning," the shaman continues. "Twelve. Now four. Four and Grubnoz." He taps his chest. "Grubnoz. Remember name, fire-man. Grubnoz the one who kills Aldric the Great." "Grubnoz," I manage. "Let's negotiate." The goblins cackle, high-pitched and wet, slapping their thighs with hands still crusted in their brothers' blood. One of them laughs so hard he falls over. "Negotiate," Grubnoz repeats, savoring the word. "Fire-man wants to negotiate. What fire-man got to trade? Shinies?" He reaches down, fumbles at my belt, finds my purse. Empties it. The coins scatter across black stone, winking in the torchlight. "Got these already." "More," I say. "My house. Eboncrest. I'm rich." "Rich." Grubnoz tilts his head, considering. "Rich in humie-town. Town with walls. Town with guards." He shakes his head sadly. "Grubnoz not go to humie-town. Grubnoz stay here. Stay in dark. Safe in dark." "Then what do you want?" Grubnoz smiles. The expression transforms his face into something worse than hateful: genuinely pleased. "What Grubnoz want?" He gestures at the carved archway behind him, the black stone that hums with frequencies that nest behind my eyes like wasps. "Grubnoz want what sleeping here. Old god. Old power. Grikzit find it, dig it up, wake it up." He stops. Looks down at me. "Fire-man dying. Fire-man want to know-" He leans close, close enough that I can smell the rot-sweet of his breath, see the mucus glistening in his nostrils. "-what happen to fire-man before fire-man dies?" The cold is spreading up from my knee, and I realize distantly that the pick must have severed something important, some vessel that's emptying me onto the ancient stone one pulse at a time. "Grubnoz tell you." He settles back on his haunches, begins counting on his fingers. "First, Grikzit boys take fire-man's armor. Good armor. Booyagh-metal. Sell to other tribes, get many-many for it." One of the goblins is already working at my pauldron, his claws scratching against the steel. "Then, Grikzit boys take fire-man's fingers." Grubnoz waggles his own. "Fire-man make magic with fingers, yes? Make the-" He mimes my hand-gestures, the Telenil forms I use for battle-casting. "-the sparkly-shapes. No fingers, no shapes. No shapes, no magic." The cold reaches my hip. I try to move my toes and feel nothing. "Then eyes. Then tongue. Then-" He shrugs. "Then whatever Grikzit boys want. They angry, fire-man. You burn their brothers. They want to burn you back, but-" Another shrug. "-Grubnoz say no fire. Fire-man dies slow." The goblin at my shoulder finally tears the pauldron free. Cold air touches the sweat-soaked linen beneath. Another goblin starts on my other greave, the one still protecting a leg that can feel. "You talk too much," I tell Grubnoz. "You should have killed me while I was down." Grubnoz laughs. "Fire-man still think he wins? Fire-man can't move legs. Can't move arms. Can't-" <span class='fire'>"Ignisurge."</span> The word comes out as a whisper. A breath shaped around desperate intention, and my hands aren't even in position because my hands are tied behind my back. But Gannis taught me that magic isn't about the hands. Not really. The hands focus. The breath carries. The *will* ignites. Fire blooms between my shoulder blades. The leather bindings crisp and part. The goblin behind me screams as his arms catch. He was too close, greedy fingers working at my backplate, and now those fingers are burning. I roll, agony spiking through my ruined knee, and my freed hands come up with flames still licking between them. Grubnoz scrambles backward. "KILL! KILL HIM NOW!" But I'm not aiming for Grubnoz. I'm aiming for the ceiling. The mine supports. The ancient timber that holds up a thousand tons of rock and earth. The wood that has been soaking in groundwater for decades, rotting slowly, waiting for something to push it past the point of endurance. <span class='fire'>"IGNISURGE!"</span> This one comes out right. I pour training, rage, and love for a woman with autumn hair and steady hands into the word. The word becomes fire. The fire becomes a lance of pure destruction that punches through the nearest support beam and into the stone beyond. For a moment, nothing happens. Then the ceiling groans. Grubnoz's eyes go wide. He scrambles for the breach in the wall, the passage into the K'tarran ruins where something old and terrible sleeps. The other goblins scatter, shrieking, some toward the main shaft and some deeper into the tunnels and some simply running in circles because fear has eaten their minds. I can't run. Can't even crawl. The magic took everything I had left, and now I am simply meat on stone, watching the cracks spread across the ceiling like dark lightning. "Elara," I say. A chunk of limestone the size of a cart crashes down three feet from my head. Dust fills the air, thick and choking. Through it, I see Grubnoz's shape disappearing through the breach, Whisperwind still clutched in his hand. He's taking my sword into that darkness. Into whatever sleeps beneath these ruins. Another impact. Closer. The ground shakes, and somewhere in the chaos I hear the main shaft collapsing, the wooden platforms splintering, the escape route I'll never use folding in on itself. "Elara." (pic:"ch01/collapse.jpg") (hidden_gem:"The ceiling falls like the sky deciding to lie down.","The ceiling crashes and crumbles, countless crushing chunks cascading, cataclysmic, conclusive.") I close my eyes.(gameover: "ch01/collapse.jpg", "chapters", "nogallery")

(pic:"ch01/underground city.jpg","Pillars thick as ancient oaks march in rows, disappearing into darkness my torch can't pierce.")($play:"ambience","cavern evil") The temperature drops twenty degrees the moment I cross through. My breath mists. Carved blocks of stone, each one larger than a house, fitted so tight a razor couldn't find the seam. No mortar. No need. The floor slopes down into a vast chamber. The stone is the same black material, but here it's carved with shapes that shouldn't exist. Too many eyes, angles that fold back on themselves, mouths where mouths shouldn't be. The air tastes of copper and old death. Older than rot. The exhalation of tombs sealed before men scratched their first words in clay. Movement in the shadows. Three goblins crouch near a collapsed section of wall, pawing through rubble. They haven't seen me yet. One's massive. Squat, all muscle and gut, cock swinging free and slapping his thigh with each step. The thing's as long as my forearm and leaking. Goblins. (hidden_gem:"They're looting corpses. Ancient corpses, still in their stone beds.","They're looting lifeless, long-dead bodies, buried in their bleak, black beds.") The big one finds something. A tarnished amulet. He bites it, testing for gold. (pic:"ch01/looting.jpg")(simple_option:"01 pursue","Attack them.")

(pic:"ch01/hunt.jpg","left")I drop from the elevated entrance, fifteen feet straight down. The first goblin looks up just as my boots crush his ribcage. Bones snap like dry branches. His eyes bulge, blood frothing from his mouth. I roll forward off his corpse, Whisperwind already singing. The second goblin fumbles for a rusty blade. <span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span>(playwhenread:"fire spell") Fire erupts point-blank into his face. His skull goes up like a pitch-soaked rag. He runs three steps, four, then collapses. The smell of burning meat and hair fills the chamber. The big one's already moving. Not toward me. Away, surprisingly fast for something carrying that much meat between its legs. He vaults over a low wall, that obscene appendage flopping wildly. I pursue. The chamber opens into what must have been a plaza. A dry fountain dominates the center, its basin filled with bones so old they've gone to powder. Stone benches ring the space. Buildings, or what's left of them, rise on all sides, their doorways gaping like mouths. The goblin scrambles up a wide staircase carved into the chamber wall. I follow, taking the steps three at a time. <span class='wind'>"Ventusfury!"</span> Wind howls up the stairwell, meant to knock him down. He ducks into an alcove at the last second. My wind tears past, accomplishing nothing but stirring tomb-dust. "Clever little shit," I mutter. He's running again, that massive cock bouncing off his thighs with each step. How does he even move that fast? The stairs spiral up along the chamber wall. Fifty feet. Seventy. A hundred. My legs burn but I keep climbing. The stairs end at a bridge. Narrow, no rails, spanning a chasm I can't see the bottom of. The goblin's halfway across, arms out for balance. <span class='ice'>"Glacieshold!"</span> Ice races across the bridge. The goblin sees it coming, leaps for the far side. His fingers catch the edge. That ridiculous member swings like a pendulum as he dangles. I charge across the ice-slicked bridge. He's pulling himself up. My sword comes down. He lets go. The bastard lets go, dropping onto a hidden ledge ten feet below. I nearly go over the edge trying to stop. "STAND AND DIE!" I roar. His only response is that chittering laugh as he disappears into another passage. (simple_option:"01 collar","Follow him deeper.")($play:"song","ironrock theme")

(set:$name to "Aldric")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/combat/2.png")($play:"song","ironrock theme")($play:"ambience","cavern evil")The passage opens into what can only be a temple. The ceiling vanishes into darkness. Carved figures cover every surface. Things that demanded worship. Many-eyed things. Things with too many mouths. The same nightmare geometry from the pillars, but more deliberate here. More focused. An altar dominates the far end, black stone stained darker with old blood. The goblin scrambles over it, knocking aside pottery shards and rusted implements. (pic:"ch01/snib holding collar.jpg","right")Behind the altar, partially buried in rubble: a metal chest. The lock's already broken, lid hanging open. <span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span>(playwhenread:"ignisurge") My fireball explodes against the altar. Stone chips fly. The goblin yelps, dives behind the chest. I advance, Whisperwind ready. He's trapped now. Nowhere left to run. That's when I see what he's holding. It's a collar. Iron, but wrong somehow. The metal seems to drink light rather than reflect it. Symbols writhe across its surface, similar to the wall carvings but smaller, more concentrated. Just looking at it makes my teeth ache. The goblin holds it like a shield, eyes wide with terror. His cock has finally shrunk back, fear overwhelming even goblin biology. "Drop it," I command. He throws it at me. Clumsy with terror, awkward and wild. I sidestep easily. (pic:"ch01/collar.jpg") The collar hits Whisperwind. The sword screams. A sound no steel should make, a shriek from somewhere deeper than metal. The blade jerks in my hand like a living thing trying to flee. The collar bounces off, lands on the stone between us. We both stare at it. The goblin moves first, scrambling to grab it again. I lunge forward, boot coming down where his hand would be. He jerks back. I swing Whisperwind in a killing arc. The collar springs open. No one touched it. It just opens. A mouth made of hunger. Dark energy bleeds from it. Visible, black, alive. It ignores the goblin entirely and lunges for me. Whisperwind comes up. The darkness splits around the blade and reforms behind it, tightening like a noose. The collar hits my palm an inch from my throat. The metal burns so cold my fingers die instantly. Just gone, wooden stumps wrapped around iron that writhes with symbols crawling like fat black beetles across its surface. The goblin's backing away, terrified. The collar pulls harder. My arm shakes with the effort of holding it back. Whisperwind falls from my other hand. I need both hands now, fighting this thing that wants my throat.(playwhenread:"collar click") <span class='fire'>"Ignisurge!"</span> Fire washes over the collar. It doesn't even warm. <span class='ice'>"Glacieshold!"</span> Ice encases it. The collar shatters the ice from within. My knees buckle. The collar's winning. Inch by inch, it moves toward my throat. The symbols glow now, purple-black like bruises, like the space between stars. The goblin's almost at the door. He looks back once, sees me losing, and does something unexpected. He laughs. A sound like cracked pottery. All nerves, no triumph. Like he can't believe what's happening either. (hidden_gem:"The collar touches my throat.","The collar clamps, closes, claims my throat with cruel, cold certainty.") (pic:"ch01/collared.jpg") Ice races through my veins. Older than Glacieshold. Meaner. My vision fractures. I see the temple as it was: filled with worshippers in black robes, the altar wet with sacrifice, something vast and terrible accepting their offerings. Then darkness. Complete and total. The last thing I hear is the goblin's feet slapping on stone as he runs. The last thing I think is: Elara, I'm sorry. (simple_option:"02 Wake up","Everything goes black...")

(set:$map_position to (a: 348, 2232))(set:$title_image to "slave")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/unknown.png")(set:$next to "02 Wake up")(masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","nightmare")(live:2.5s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","stinger")](chapter_title:2,"The Collar")(set:$gender to "female")(set:$name to "???")The dream tears at me like wolves. Elara's in our bed, but something's wrong. Her belly swells with child, but when she turns to me, her eyes are yellow. Goblin yellow. She opens her mouth to speak and that chittering language spills out, wet and wrong. I try to scream but my voice comes out in the same foul tongue. (vid:"img/ch02/nightmare.mp4")(display:"divider") Cold stone slaps me awake. My skull throbs. Each heartbeat hammers against bone like a smith working iron. The taste of copper coats my throat. The mine. The ruins. That green bastard with the collar. I try to sit up. Weight drags at my ribs. Two masses of flesh, heavy as saddlebags, pulling me forward before I've finished moving. They swing when I stop, a sickening delay, like carrying something alive that doesn't know I've changed direction. My hand goes to check for wounds and sinks knuckle-deep into warm, yielding meat that overflows my grip. Growing from my chest. Part of me. Each gasp lifts them against my fingers and drops them again, warm dough that won't stop moving. Metal scales bite crescents into skin so tender my jaw locks. Cold air finds my stomach, my ribs, acres of bare skin where mail and leather should be. I force myself upright. The tits lurch forward with my momentum, then rebound against my ribs hard enough to make me gag. I pitch forward like a ship taking on water. My hands shoot out and I see them in the cave-moss glow. Hands like a noblewoman's: tapered fingers without a single callus, smooth as if they'd never gripped anything heavier than embroidery silk. (pic:"ch02/initial shock.jpg","No. No no no.") Hair falls across my vision, a black curtain that wasn't there this morning. I shake my head and feel the weight of it sweep past my shoulder blades, clinging to sweat-damp skin all the way to my waist. I look down. Two obscene mounds strain against metal triangles that wouldn't cover a man's palm. These hands are smaller. Everything is smaller except what hangs from my chest. The plates are connected by thin chains that dig into the soft meat, leaving red marks. Below them, my stomach is bare, pale, soft. No scars. No muscle. Just smooth skin leading down to where a metal strap barely wider than my thumb crosses my hips, diving between my thighs. (hidden_gem:"My legs slam together but there's nothing there to protect.","My legs lurch and lock together but literally nothing's there to guard.") The space between my thighs is smooth. Sealed shut. Where my cock should be there's just a cleft of yielding flesh that the air touches like a wound. My hands fly to my throat. Cold iron. A collar that grinds against my windpipe when I swallow. Something hums inside it, a vibration like pressing your ear to a wasp nest, patient and full of purpose. This isn't my body. Every nerve ending disagrees. Gooseflesh on acres of bare skin. Metal biting into places I never had. The drag of tits I can't put down, and between my legs, an emptiness that aches like a missing tooth the size of my fist. My voice catches in my throat. When I swallow, the collar constricts. (simple_option:"02 finding out","Try to stand up.")

(pic:"ch02/stand.jpg","right")I plant my palms on cold stone and push. My legs straighten and the boots pitch me onto metal spikes where heels should be. My calves seize instantly, tendons stretched to snapping, ankles wobbling on points no wider than arrow-tips. The tits launch forward before I've finished standing, dragging my whole center of gravity with them. I windmill backward but the boots won't let me plant my feet flat. They force everything into a curve: chest forward, spine arched, ass thrust back, the whole body arranged around a pair of metal stakes and the desperate wish not to fall. My thighs press together, soft as bread dough, sliding against each other with a friction that shouldn't exist. Fat thighs. Woman's thighs that kiss when I walk. The metal strap between my legs rides up, cutting into places it shouldn't reach. *Crack.* My ass hits stone hard enough to rattle my teeth. The impact keeps going, rippling through flesh that won't stop moving. My tits fly up and slam back down, my ass spreads beneath me like warm clay, and when my hands shoot back to catch myself they sink wrist-deep into asscheek. I'm sitting on my own body fat and it's still jiggling three seconds after I've stopped.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",2,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",280,"attackMs",25,"holdMs",40,"releaseMs",120,"gapIntensity",0)) "Flux's balls!" (playwhenread:"trip and fall") (pic:"ch02/fall.jpg") The voice that comes out is a soprano bell. Clear, musical, the kind of voice bards write about. From MY throat. The ancient city. I'm still in the ruins. That goblin-where is he? My hand goes to my sword but finds only bare hip, soft and yielding. No weapon belt. No weapon. Just smooth skin and that metal strap that digs in when I twist. (hidden_gem:"My legs splay awkwardly, the metal boots clattering as I try to right myself.","My legs lurch and list, the loud metal boots banging and battering as I battle to balance.") I look down at my legs properly for the first time. Black metal encases them from mid-thigh down, articulated plates that should be armor but aren't. The plates stop at the ankle, then the metal continues wrong: the foot is arched severely, forcing me onto a narrow point no wider than a spear butt. A spike of metal extends down from the heel. No wonder I can't fucking walk. (pic:"ch02/heels.jpg","These aren't soldier's boots. They're something else.") No soldier ever wore these. The arch forces my weight forward, the spike forces my ass back, and the wobble forces my hips to sway with every step. Armor for a body meant to be watched, not to fight. The collar pulses at my throat. Patient. Promising. I need to see. Need to understand what's been done to me. The bioluminescent moss casts everything in pale green shadow, but there: a puddle of water, still and dark as a scrying mirror. (simple_option:"02 reflection","Examine your chest.","Touch your face.","Check between your legs.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")(if:$choice is "Examine your chest.")[(pic:"ch02/tits.jpg","These massive, hanging things are part of my body.")My hands move to the weights hanging from my chest. Sweet merciful Eon, they're attached to me. The flesh gives under my fingers like dough left to rise too long, warm and yielding. And I can feel my own touch THROUGH it. When I press, the meat compresses and bulges sideways between my fingers, more than two hands can hold. Pressure from inside AND outside simultaneously. I'm groping myself and being groped at the same time, and my brain can't reconcile the two. I try to lift one. The weight shocks me: heavy as a full waterskin but shapeless, filling my grip and oozing between my fingers like something alive. The metal triangle covers maybe a third of it. The rest spills around the edges, angry red crescents bitten into pale skin. When I let go, it drops and SLAPS my ribs hard enough to sting. (pic:"ch02/tits closeup.jpg","The metal triangles barely cover anything. My fingers find soft flesh spilling out around the edges, warm and yielding like overripe fruit in summer heat.") My strength is gone. These arms that once hefted a zweihander now struggle with the weight of these things. I try to flex, to summon the power that should be there, but the muscle is buried under softness. My arms are slender, weak, made for needlework not swordwork. When I lean forward to stand, they swing. The momentum nearly topples me again: first the fall forward, then the flesh following a heartbeat later, then the backward pull as they settle. My hands fly up instinctively to stop their movement and I feel them overflow my palms, soft and warm and wrong. The metal triangles dig deeper with each bounce, leaving marks I can feel burning into the tender skin. Where my chest should be hard with muscle, carved from years of swordwork, there's just yielding softness. I press where my pectorals should be and find only these mounds that compress and spring back with an elasticity that makes my stomach lurch. They're sensitive too-when the cold metal shifts, I feel it like needles. When air moves across the exposed flesh, goosebumps rise. (hidden_gem:"I need to see. Need to understand the full horror of what's been done.","I need knowledge. Need to know the nightmarish, nauseating scope of what's been wrought.") The puddle. I crawl toward it on hands and knees because standing in these metal torture-boots is impossible. But crawling is worse. The weights hang free, swaying with each movement, pulling at my shoulders and upper back. They brush the ground when I lean too far forward. The sensation of cold stone against that tender flesh makes me recoil, which sets them swinging again. I reach the water's edge. My reflection wavers in the dim green light. (pic:"ch02/pov discovery new.jpg","This can't be me. This CAN'T be me.") The face looking back isn't mine. It can't be mine. Delicate features, high cheekbones, full lips. Pale skin without a single battle scar. Long black hair frames everything like mourning silk. But the eyes: My eyes. Aldric's eyes. The same green, the same shape, trapped in this stranger's face. (vid:"img/ch02/face.mp4","soundwhenvisible") (playwhenread:"this is sorcery")"No." The word comes out in that musical feminine voice. "No, this is-this is sorcery, this is-" My hand goes to my face. The reflection moves with me. Soft cheek, smooth jaw, no stubble. The hand touching that face is small, elegant, with tapered fingers meant for needlework, not swordwork. This is my face. My hand. My body. "NO!" The scream tears from my throat, high and desperate. It echoes off the cavern walls, throwing back a woman's anguish. "This isn't-I'm not-" (vid:"img/ch02/heels.mp4","right","soundwhenvisible")I try to stand, to run, to get away from the reflection. The metal boots scrape and clatter. My ankles buckle. The weights on my chest throw me off balance. I take one wobbling step, then another, the metal heel-spikes ringing against stone like a death knell. *Clop. Clop. Clop.* Each step forces my hips to sway. The soft meat of my thighs brushes together. The metal thong saws deeper between my cheeks with each step, finding nerve endings that have no business existing. Everything moves wrong-delayed, exaggerated, humiliating. That's when I hear it.](else-if:$choice is "Touch your face.")[(vid:"img/ch02/face.mp4","soundwhenvisible") My hands move to my face. My jaw tapers to a point. Cheekbones too high, too delicate, like someone filed the angles off a hero's face and left a courtesan's. The skin is smooth as fresh cream. No stubble. No scars from that bar fight in Westford. Just silk-soft flesh that yields under my fingertips like I'm touching someone else. My lips. Eon's mercy. Full and plush, the kind that part on their own when you breathe through your mouth, that feel every shift of air like a kiss. Hair keeps falling in my face. I grab a fistful. It's like holding water made of shadow, so soft it barely has substance. Black as midnight, falling past my shoulders, past my shoulder blades, almost to my waist. Maiden's hair. The kind knights write stupid songs about. (playwhenread:"this is sorcery")No. No no no no. I need to see. The puddle. There's water there, still and dark. I crawl toward it on hands and knees because standing in these metal torture-boots is impossible. The weights on my chest swing with each movement, heavy as grain sacks but soft, pulling at my ribs. Too much ass sways as I move. Each forward crawl drags the metal strip against my pussy like a cheese wire through butter. The water is black as pitch, but I can see. (pic:"ch02/pov discovery new.jpg","This can't be me. This CAN'T be me.") (hidden_gem:"My own green eyes stare back from a stranger's face.","My matching mossy-green eyes gaze back from a gorgeous stranger's graced face.") Pale. Beautiful. The kind of face that makes men kill each other in taverns. High cheekbones, full lips, eyes like moss after rain. My eyes, MY EXACT EYES, set in this stranger's body. "No!" The scream tears from my throat, high and clear and wrong. "This isn't-I'm not-" My reflection moves when I move. When I touch my cheek, she touches hers. When my mouth opens in horror, so does hers. The collar sits black at her throat-my throat-like an owner's mark on livestock. I pull back, gasping. My chest heaves and the weights bounce and sway. Breasts. They're breasts, massive ones barely contained by triangular metal plates. Each breath makes them rise and fall. I can't stop staring at them, at these obscene fleshy mountains jutting from my chest. (pic:"ch02/tits.jpg","These massive, hanging things are part of my body.") My hands move without thinking, grabbing them. They overflow my grip, soft and warm and wrong wrong WRONG. When I squeeze, trying to prove they're false, pain shoots through them. They're real. They're part of me. "Magic," I whisper, voice breaking. "That goblin did this. Some kind of curse, an illusion-" But I can feel everything. The cold air on my exposed stomach. The way my thighs rub together. The horrifying absence between my legs where my cock should be. This isn't an illusion. This is my body now. (vid:"img/ch02/heels.mp4","right","soundwhenvisible")I try to stand again, hands braced on the cave wall. The metal boots force me up on the points of my toes, calves screaming. My hips sway wrong, my balance is fucked, these things on my chest throw off every movement. *Clack. Clack. Clack.* Each step is agony. The boots scrape and ring against stone as I wobble forward like a newborn colt. My ass juts out, my back arches to compensate for the weight up front. I take three steps and nearly fall again. That's when I hear it.](else:)[(pic:"ch02/pussy closeup.jpg") My hand moves down past the soft belly that shouldn't exist. Past hips that flare out like a breeding mare's haunches. Eon's mercy, the metal strap is barely wider than a sword belt, cutting between flesh that's too abundant, too soft. My fingers find where it dives between my thighs. Nothing. Smooth skin and a cleft of yielding flesh where my cock should be. Like reaching for a sword that was never forged. The hand closes on empty air and the brain screams wrong. NO. My hand jerks back like I've touched molten iron. But the sensation remains. The air on places that should never feel air. The way my thighs press together with nothing between them but that cursed metal strap riding up where it shouldn't. "Flux take this nightmare!" (vid:"img/ch02/heels.mp4","right","soundwhenvisible")I need to see. Need to prove this is some spell, some illusion. I try to stand again, hands braced on the stone. The metal boots scrape and shriek. My ankles wobble on their torture-points. One step. The weights on my chest swing left. Another step. They swing right, pulling me off balance. Verge's teeth, my ass shifts and bounces with each movement like saddlebags overpacked with grain. *Clop. Scrape. Clop.* The pool is only ten paces but it might as well be ten leagues. Each step is a battle against this body that moves wrong, weighs wrong, *is* wrong. My thighs brush together, skin already chafing. The metal triangle covering what *should* be there shifts with each step, a constant reminder of the void. (hidden_gem:"I drop to my knees at the water's edge, unable to stand another moment on these torture-spikes.","I drop, defeated, to damaged knees at the dark water's edge, unable to endure another instant on these terrible torture-spikes.") The black water holds secrets I don't want to know. But I lean forward. My hair falls around my face like a funeral shroud. Black silk, longer than my arm, pooling on the wet stone. It smells of lavender and something darker, earthier. Not my hair. Not my smell. In the water's mirror, a woman looks back. (pic:"ch02/pov discovery new.jpg","This can't be me. This CAN'T be me.") The same green eyes-MY eyes-set in a face carved from moonlight and sin. High cheekbones that could cut glass. Lips like split fruit, too full, too soft. The face men kill for and over. The kind of face that belongs in a whorehouse painting, not on a hero's shoulders. But those are my eyes. Frightened. Horrified. *Mine*. "No no no NO-"(playwhenread:"this is sorcery") (pic:"ch02/tits closeup.jpg","The metal triangles barely cover anything.") My hands fly to my face, and the reflection's hands mirror the motion. Small, delicate, fingers meant for harps not swords. The skin is soft as fresh cream. No beard-shadow. No scars from a hundred battles. Just pale perfection that makes me want to vomit. I pull back and see more. The metal triangles barely contain flesh that spills out from all sides. Breasts like ripe melons, heavy enough to crack a man's skull. Below them, that narrow waist, those obscene hips, and between the thighs, nothing. (vid:"img/ch02/face.mp4","soundwhenvisible") I scream. It comes out high and clear and beautiful, a woman's terror from a woman's throat. The ancient city throws it back at me, mocking echoes of feminine anguish. That's when I hear it. Laughter.](simple_option:"02 snib","Laughter.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png")(playwhenread:"snib laugh")(pic:"ch02/snib.jpg","right","What a HORRIBLE little creature.")($play:"ambience","goblin cave music")(if:(get_choice:"02 finding out","Examine your chest."))[The laughter rolls out of the shadows like pus from a wound. Wet. Amused. The sound of something that's stopped being afraid. The goblin steps into the bioluminescent glow, and my stomach drops. He's appraising me. Those yellow eyes are narrow with something worse than fear. They travel up my body the way a butcher looks at a hanging carcass: starting at the spike-heels, climbing my bare thighs, stopping at my chest long enough to make my skin crawl. "Heh." Just that. One sound. His gaze locks onto my chest, his head tilting like he's trying to understand what he's seeing. (hidden_gem:"My hands fly up to cover myself, but there's too much flesh, spilling around my fingers.","My hands hurry up to hide myself, but the huge heaving flesh flows freely around my failing fingers.") "Big," he says, voice rougher than I remember. Lower. He takes a step closer, and I take one back. The metal heels shriek against stone. My balance fails. The weights on my chest swing violently, and his eyes track the movement like a cat watching a bird.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1800,"cycles",2)) Another step. He's barely taller than my waist in these torture-boots, but the way he's looking at me turns my stomach. "Bigger than me mum's." His tongue, black and too long, runs across his lips. "Bigger than any cow's." *Cow.* The word hits like a slap. (playwhenread:"cowtits")"Cow-tits." He grins, showing teeth like broken glass. "That's what ye are now. Look at 'em bounce." Heat floods my face, my neck, my chest: something worse than rage, something I don't have a name for until it's already consuming me. Being LOOKED AT. Evaluated. Found useful. "Get AWAY from me!" The scream tears from my throat, high and desperate. "I'll burn you to ASH! I'll-" But he's not backing away. He's circling now, that disgusting chuckle bubbling up from his throat. His loincloth tents obscenely as he moves, something massive shifting beneath the ratty fabric. "Burn me?" Another laugh. "With them tits floppin' about? Can ye even see past 'em?" Rage. White-hot, pure rage floods my veins. How DARE this creature, this THING that I've killed hundreds of, speak to me like- "I am ALDRIC THE GREAT!" I roar, but it comes out as a woman's shriek. "I've slaughtered your kind by the score! I'll turn you to cinders!" "All I see is cow-tits with a pretty hole," he says simply, eyes dropping to the gap between my thighs where the metal strap barely covers anything. The humiliation burns hotter than any fire I've ever conjured. My skin feels like it's being flayed by his gaze alone. Every inch he looks at becomes hyperaware: the soft flesh of my belly, the curve of my hips, the way my thighs press together. This is what it's like to be meat. "Gonna be fun," he mutters, adjusting the massive bulge in his loincloth. "Real fun." No. NO. I'm still a battlemage. I still have power. I'll show this revolting little beast what happens when you corner Aldric-when you corner ANY mage. My hands rise, fingers already forming the gestures.](else-if:(get_choice:"02 finding out","Touch your face."))[The laughter starts low-a wet, phlegmy sound like someone drowning in their own spit. A shadow moves in the green phosphorescence. The goblin. That same stunted piece of shit I was chasing, but... different. He's standing there, three and a half feet of warty green flesh, studying me like a butcher evaluating meat. His yellow eyes track down from my face, slow and deliberate. They linger on my chest where these obscene weights strain against their metal triangles. Then lower. Then back up. The fear that was in those eyes when I was Aldric? Gone. Replaced by something that makes my skin crawl. I try to stand taller, to summon some authority despite wobbling on these torture-spikes. "Stay back, you diseased little-" My voice. Flux's balls, my VOICE. High and clear like temple bells. The goblin's lips peel back, revealing teeth like cemetery stones. He takes a step closer. Just one. His head tilts, studying. I can smell him from here: onions left to rot in piss. But it's the way he's LOOKING at me that makes bile rise in my throat. Not like prey looks at a predator. Not even like an enemy. Like a man looks at a whore. (hidden_gem:"No one's ever looked at me like this. Like I'm meat. Like I'm something to be used.","Nobody's ever eyed me like this. Like I'm edible. Like I'm an entree to be enjoyed.") My hand reaches for Whisperwind. Finds soft hip. Nothing. The goblin sees the empty grab. His fear dies right there-I watch it leave his yellow eyes like smoke through a crack. What replaces it is worse. He starts circling. Roach-quick, making me pivot on these metal stakes, my balance ruined, every adjustment setting the flesh on my chest swinging. His breathing thickens. A line of drool forms at his lip. His eyes track my tits like a cat watching a wounded bird. "Get BACK." My voice comes out pleading. I meant it as a command. He still hasn't spoken. Just that wet mouth-breathing, closer now. Close enough to see the boils on his neck. Close enough to smell him: onions rotting in piss. His loincloth tents with something massive shifting underneath. Then he speaks. "Bigger than me mum's." His tongue, black and too long, runs across his lips. "Bigger than any cow's." The word hits like a slap. "Cow-tits." He grins, showing teeth like broken glass. "That's what ye are now. Look at 'em bounce." Something tears loose inside me like a sail in storm-wind. "You THRACKING-" The rage is volcanic. So many of his kind I've exterminated. And this diseased little cum-stain is looking at these things on my chest like he's shopping for melons at market. This thing that should be DEAD, that should be AFRAID, is calling me- "I'LL BURN YOU TO ASH!" The scream tears from my throat. "I'll turn you into CHAR! I'll-" He laughs. A wet, choking sound like he's gargling phlegm. "Go on then, cow-tits. Show us what ye got." My hands are already moving, the words of power rising in my throat. This little green shit doesn't know who he's fucking with. Collar or no collar, body or no body, I'm still Aldric the Great. I still have the gift. I'll cook him from the inside out, make him SCREAM, make him BEG. The incantation builds on my tongue, sweet as wine, hot as forge-fire. I can feel it gathering in my chest-no, BETWEEN these awful weights, but gathering nonetheless. One word. One gesture. And this goblin becomes a memory and a smell.](else:)[The laughter comes from behind a fallen pillar. Wet, chittering, like rats drowning in oil. He emerges slowly, watching. The same goblin from before, but everything's different now. His yellow eyes aren't looking at me like I'm Aldric the Great, slayer of his kind. They're looking at me. Like I'm *meat*. (hidden_gem:"My stance widens instinctively, but the metal heel-spikes scrape and slip on ancient stone.","My stance stretches and strains, but the steel spike-shoes scrape and skitter on sacred stone.") He's three and a half feet of green spite, pot-bellied and bow-legged, but he's not cowering. Not anymore. His gaze travels down from my face, slow, deliberate, savoring, and stops at chest level. A strand of drool actually forms at the corner of his mouth. "Heh." Just that. One sound. Like he's discovered something amusing. I try to assume a combat stance. The boots make it impossible. I'm pitched forward on these torture-spikes, calves screaming, my back arched in a way that thrusts my chest forward. The weights there bounce with even the smallest movement. When I shift my feet, trying to find balance, they swing left, then right, the metal triangles biting deeper into tender flesh. His eyes track the movement like a cat watching a bird. "Big." "Get-" My voice cracks. That feminine sound again. I clear my throat, try to make it commanding. "Get back, you diseased little-" "Bigger than me mum's." His tongue, black and too long, runs across his lips. "Bigger than any cow's."(playwhenread:"cowtits") "Cow-tits." He grins, showing teeth like broken glass. "That's what ye are now. Look at 'em bounce." The word brands itself into my skull. Rage fills my skull like smoke in a sealed room. No one-NO ONE-has ever looked at me like this. Like I'm something to be leered at. To be *enjoyed*. My skin crawls with a sensation I've never felt before: being undressed by someone's eyes, evaluated like livestock at market. The space between my legs, that horrifying absence, suddenly feels more exposed than if I were naked. Like he can smell the vulnerability on me. He takes a step closer. Just one. His head barely reaches my waist but somehow he seems larger. The way he's looking up at me, tongue playing at the corner of his mouth, makes my stomach turn. "Soft little thing now, ain't ye?" Another step. His breathing is audible-wet, excited. "All them muscles gone. Just *jiggle*."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2200,"cycles",2)) I try to back away but the heels betray me. My ankle rolls. I have to grab the wall to steady myself, and the motion sets everything swaying. Tits, ass, all of it. His yellow eyes go wide with delight. "Pretty little bitch," he whispers, and the word *bitch* lands like a physical blow. "That's what the magic made ye. From hero to *bitch*." My hands are shaking. Not from fear-from pure, molten rage. I've been called many things. Murderer. Villain. Monster, by his kind. But never this. Never reduced to body parts and holes. Never looked at like something to be *used*. The metal between my legs feels cold. Vulnerable. I'm sickeningly aware that there's nothing protecting me there. Just soft flesh where my cock used to be. "Stop looking at me." The words come out pleading when I meant them as a command. He laughs again, that wet chittering. Takes another step. He's ten feet away now, close enough that I can smell him. Onions and piss and something else, something thick and musky that makes my nostrils flare. "Can't kill me now, can ye?" He's almost dancing, his excitement palpable. "Not with them little hands. Not wobbling on them pretty stabby shoes. Just a pair of cow-tits on legs, waiting to be-" That's when I remember. Magic. I still have my magic. The words of power surge through me like wine, like fire, like vengeance. My hands begin to glow with inner flame. The cave fills with the smell of ozone and fury. "You want to see what these 'little hands' can do?" My voice drops to a snarl.] (pic:"ch02/determination.jpg") (simple_option:"02 magic attempt","Cast Ignisurge!","Cast Glacieshold!","Cast Ventusfury!")

(pic:"ch02/cast attempt.jpg")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png") (if:$choice is "Cast Ignisurge!")["IGNISURGE!"(playwhenread:"ignisurge fail") The word tears from my throat with the force of seventeen years' practice. I feel it building-that sweet familiar rush, like molten gold flooding my veins. The fire answers my call as it always has, rising from that place deep in my chest where rage and righteousness meet. My palms tingle with the promise of destruction, the air around my fingers shimmering with heat-haze, the smell of a forge about to birth a blade. Power surges through my arms, cresting, about to bloom into annihilation. A puff. A sad wheeze of smoke that wouldn't light a candle. It dribbles from my palm and dies in the dark. (hidden_gem:"The magic dies in my hands like a lover's promise broken at dawn.","The magic melts in my mitts like a maiden's promise mangled at morning.") "Was that it?" The goblin's laughter sounds like someone choking on their own spit. "Was that yer big fire show?" I stare at my hands. These soft, small hands that should be wreathed in flames. The magic is THERE-roiling in my chest, pressure behind my ribs, heat climbing my throat. It reaches the collar and goes out like a candle dunked in water. Just cold iron doing nothing visible, and that's enough. My fire breaks against it and vanishes. "Try again!" Snib circles me, that obscene bulge in his loincloth bouncing with each scuttle-step. "Go on, cow-tits! Give us another puff!" "IGNISURGE!" I scream it louder, as if volume could break through. The magic builds again-that gorgeous pressure, that divine heat-only to extinguish at the moment of release. Another pathetic wisp of smoke. "IGNISURGE! IGNISURGE! IGN-" Each attempt is weaker. Like trying to cum with a hand around your cock, squeezing closed. The magic builds and builds with nowhere to go, backing up inside me until I'm shaking with it, until I feel like I might explode from the inside out. (playwhenread:"collar explain")"The collar," Snib says, and he's close now, so close I can smell the rot on his breath. "It talks to me. Whispers things." His head tilts, those yellow eyes narrowing. "Says yer mine now. Says yer magic only works if I lets it." "That's not-" My voice cracks. "That's IMPOSSIBLE-" "Says yer name was Aldric." He's grinning now, black tongue playing at the corner of his mouth. "Aldric the Great. Killed three hundred and seventeen of me kind." Another step closer. "Now look at ye. Tits bigger than yer head and no fire to back up all that yellin'." The rage is a white sun behind my eyes, fury enough to crack the world's spine, that should turn this entire cavern to glass. But when I raise my hands, when I speak the words that have never failed me- Smoke. Pathetic, gray smoke. "If ye want yer magic," Snib says, voice dropping to something almost thoughtful, "ye gotta ask. Real nice-like." His eyes travel down my body again, lingering on the heaving of my chest as I pant with fury and exhaustion. "Maybe do somethin' for me first." "I'll NEVER-" "Never's a long time, cow-tits." He scratches his balls through his loincloth, the motion deliberate, disgusting. "Specially when yer wobbling on them silly shoes with no magic to save ye." My entire life, magic has flowed through me like blood through veins. Natural as breathing. The fire lived in my chest, the ice in my bones, the wind in my lungs. To have it there but trapped, like trying to scream with a hand over your mouth, like trying to piss with your cock tied shut- No. Not my cock. I don't have one anymore. There. Behind him, fallen among the rubble. Whisperwind's pommel catches the phosphorescent light. My sword. My beautiful, faithful sword. If magic won't serve me, steel will. Steel has never failed me. One good thrust and this nightmare ends. I just need to reach it.](else-if:$choice is "Cast Glacieshold!")[The words of power rise in my throat like winter storms gathering above the Ironspikes. "*Glacieshold!*" I taste the spell. Crisp as mountain air, sharp as the moment before an avalanche. In my mind's eye, I see it perfectly: ice racing up his disgusting green legs, crystallizing his putrid blood, turning that leering grin into frozen horror. One kick from these torture-boots and he'll shatter into a thousand pieces, each one melting away with this nightmare, returning me to myself, to *Aldric*. The magic builds in my chest, that familiar cold fire that's ended a hundred monsters. It spirals down my arms, through my fingers, ready to birth winter itself. And dies. Like a candle snuffed by a giant's fist. (hidden_gem:"Three pathetic ice crystals form on my palm, melting immediately in my own heat.","Three tiny, trifling ice crystals take shape on my trembling palm, perishing promptly in my own pathetic heat.") "Wha-" The goblin's laughter explodes like pus from a lanced boil. "That it?" He slaps his knee like this is the funniest thing he's ever seen. "That yer big magic, cow-tits?" No. No no no. "*GLACIESHOLD!*" I scream it this time, pouring everything into the word. The magic rises, crests. Dies. Two crystals this time. They fall to the stone with tiny *plinks*. "*IGNISURGE!*" Nothing. Not even smoke. "*VENTUSFURY!*" The air doesn't even stir. "*IGNISURGE! GLACIESHOLD! VENTUSFURY!*" I'm shrieking now, my feminine voice cracking, spittle flying. My hands shake through the same gestures that have channeled lightning. Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING. The goblin circles me like a wolf around a lamed deer, his bare feet slapping wetly on stone. I pivot on these fucking heels trying to track him, wobbling, my tits swaying obscenely with each adjustment. "Funny thing," he says, scratching his balls through his loincloth. "This pretty collar ye got on-" My hand flies to my throat. The iron is warm now, almost alive. "-it talks to me. Whispers things." He grins wider. "Says ye belong to me now." "I don't belong to-" "Says yer magic?" He stops directly in front of me, has to crane his neck back to look up at my face. "Ye only get it when I says so."(playwhenread:"collar explain") The world tilts. My knees actually buckle. The concept is so obscene, so fundamentally WRONG that my mind rejects it. My magic, the gift that made me more than just another sellsword, that lifted me from the mud-quarter to the Tower, is locked away by this thing. "So if ye EVER want to throw yer little sparkles again," he continues, his voice dropping to something oily, "ye gonna have to ask. Real nice." His yellow eyes drop to my chest. "Maybe do something for me first." "I'll NEVER-" "*IGNISURGE!*" I scream it with thirty years of rage. "*BURN, YOU FUCKING PARASITE!*" Not even warmth. "*GLACIESHOLD! FREEZE AND SHATTER!*" The goblin yawns. "*VENTUSFURY! TEAR HIM APART!*" A cave-moth lands on my shoulder, undisturbed by any wind. I'm sobbing now. Actual tears streaming down this soft face as I scream every battle spell, every cantrip, every hedge-magic trick I know. The words pour out in a torrent of desperate, impotent fury while the goblin counts on his fingers, keeping track. "That's seventeen," he notes casually. "Ye done?" My throat is raw. My legs shake from standing on these spike-heels. The weights on my chest heave with each gasping breath. I've never felt this absolute helplessness. Not when the basilisk had me cornered. Not when the Thuulk Tower masters expelled me. Never. Magic is what I AM. Without it, what am I? Just a pair of tits on legs in slutty armor. "I'LL KILL YOU!" The scream tears from my throat. "I'LL RIP YOUR FUCKING HEAD OFF!" That's when I see it. Whisperwind. My blade, lying against a fallen pillar not twenty feet away, still gleaming despite the ancient dust.](else:)[Ventusfury. The word forms in my mind like a lover's name, like salvation itself. Wind-my oldest friend, my first mastery. I can already see it: this diseased little shit flying backward, bones snapping like kindling against the ancient stone, his skull cracking open like an egg, brains painting the walls in a satisfying splatter of green and gray. The collar's magic will die with him. I'll be myself again. I'll walk out of here Aldric the Great, and this nightmare will become just another tavern tale. My hands rise in the Seventh Position: thumb and forefinger forming the eye of the storm, other fingers spread like gale-tracks. The power builds in my chest, that familiar gathering like breathing in a thunderstorm. It starts at the root of my spine, rises through my belly. (hidden_gem:"The magic coils through me like a living thing, ancient and eager.","The magic meanders through me like a mighty, moving thing, ancient and anxious.") The air should be changing now: pressure dropping, dust beginning to spiral. I've done this a thousand times. Felt the wind answer my call like a war-dog to its master's whistle. The power builds and builds, cresting toward release. "*VENTUSFURY!*" I thrust my palms forward, channeling everything, EVERYTHING into this moment of glorious violence. *Poof.* A breeze. Less than a breeze. A whisper of air that wouldn't disturb a candle flame. It touches Snib's face with all the force of a maiden's sigh, barely ruffling his greasy hair. Silence floods the space where my storm should have raged. Snib blinks, then his face splits into that broken-glass grin. "Was that it?" No. No no no NO. "*IGNISURGE!*" I scream, hands already forming the fire-cage gesture. Nothing. Not even warmth. "*GLACIESHOLD!*" The ice that should freeze him solid, that should turn his blood to slush. Nothing. "*VENTUSFURY! IGNISURGE! GLACIESHOLD!*" I'm shrieking now, cycling through every form, every word of power, my hands a blur of desperate gestures. But it's like screaming into the void. The magic is THERE, I can feel it inside me, but it hits something at my throat and just stops. Like trying to pour wine through a closed cork. Snib's laughing so hard he's wheezing, doubled over, slapping his knee. "Oh... oh that's..." He gasps for air between cackles. "That's fuckin' BEAUTIFUL! The great hero, flappin' her hands like a broke-wing bird!" "WORK!" I scream at my hands. "THRACKING WORK!" "It's telling me things," Snib says, tapping his temple, his laughter dying to wet chuckles. "The collar. Don't know what it is exactly, but it's whisperin' real sweet about you." He starts circling me again, and I have to wobble on these torture-heels to track him. "Says yer mine now. Says that magic ye're so proud of?" (playwhenread:"collar explain") He stops directly in front of me, looking up with those yellow eyes full of malicious glee. "Ye can't use it without me permission." The words hit like a physical blow. My magic-the thing that makes me more than just another sellsword, the power I earned through pain and study and sacrifice-is now locked behind this creature's approval? My voice comes out strangled. "That's not possible." "Oh, it's possible, cow-tits. Ye want to cast yer little spells? Gonna have to ask real nice." His tongue plays at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe do somethin' for me first." "NEVER!" The scream tears from my throat. "I'll die first! I'll-*IGNISURGE!*" Nothing. "*GLACIESHOLD!*" Nothing. I'm screaming the words now, over and over, my throat going raw. Each failed spell is another humiliation, another confirmation that I'm trapped, that this THING owns my power. Snib's laughing so hard he's crying, pointing at me as I flail and shriek like a madwoman. "Look at ye! Flappin' and screamin'! Like a chicken with them fat tits!" My vision blurs with tears of pure rage. Through the film of fury, I see it: a glint of metal among the rubble. Whisperwind. My sword, transformed like everything else but still MINE. Still sharp. I don't need magic to run three feet of steel through his diseased heart.] (simple_option:"02 sword","Dive for your sword!","Try to circle around to it.","Charge through him to get it!")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/shocked/1.png")(if:$choice is "Dive for your sword!")[The Harrow Guard Ninth Position: a diving roll that becomes a rising thrust, catching the enemy through the soft palate as they pursue. I've done it a hundred times. Muscle memory older than half the men I've trained. Twenty feet. Whisperwind gleams against ancient stone like salvation itself. I launch forward. Except. These aren't my muscles. The legs that should coil and spring like siege engines are soft, weak. The center of gravity that should be in my chest is in these obscene sacks of flesh hanging from my ribs. Flux's balls, they swing forward with my momentum like twin grain sacks, pulling me off balance before I've taken a single step. The metal heel-spikes shriek against stone. My ankle rolls. The weights on my chest swing violently left and I try to compensate but they're already swinging back right. I go down like a pole-axed cow.(playwhenread:"fall")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",3,"peakFrom",0.32,"peakTo",0.20,"gapFrom",200,"gapTo",300,"attackMs",20,"holdMs",35,"releaseMs",100,"gapIntensity",0)) (pic:"ch02/fall forward.jpg") My knees hit first-a crack that sends lightning up my thighs. Then my palms slap stone, and the momentum carries those massive flesh-bags forward with a sound like wet meat hitting a butcher's block. They CLAP together between my arms, compressed and bulging sideways, the metal triangles biting so deep I see stars.(playwhenread:"plap 1") (hidden_gem:"My ass is in the air, presented like a feast day ham.","My ass aims airward, arranged like an appetizing anniversary ham.") "HAAAAAHAHAHA!" (playwhenread:"haha 1") The goblin's laughter could strip paint. But worse than the laughter is the sound of his bare feet slapping stone as he scuttles up behind me. I try to scramble forward, to crawl if I have to, but these thrakking tits are pinned between my arms and the floor, dragging like anchors. My palms slip on ancient dust. The metal barely covering my ass rides up between the cheeks like a cheese wire. That's when his hand connects. (pic:"ch02/ugh.jpg","left")*CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.40,"pulseMs",110,"count",1,"rest",0)) The sound echoes through the cavern like a whip-crack. Pain blooms across my right ass cheek-not the deep pain of a wound but something worse. Something... humiliating. The flesh jiggles from the impact, a ripple of movement I can FEEL, like disturbed water. "Look at that wobble!" He spanks me again, harder. *CRACK!* "Like hittin' a sack of pudding!"(playwhenread:"spank haha")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.45,"pulseMs",120,"count",1,"rest",0)) I try to roll sideways but he plants his foot on my lower back, pinning me. I'm trapped on all fours like a dog, these horrible udders swaying beneath me, ass presented to this diseased creature who- *CRACK!* Left cheek this time.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.42,"pulseMs",110,"count",1,"rest",0)) "This what heroes are made of now?" *CRACK!* "All this soft meat?" *CRACK!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",2,"peakFrom",0.44,"peakTo",0.40,"gapFrom",800,"gapTo",800,"attackMs",25,"holdMs",50,"releaseMs",100,"gapIntensity",0)) The words cut deeper than the pain. For some reason, I think of Elara. This morning I had her bent over our bed, my hand on her beautiful ass as we tried for a child, and now- *CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!* He's found a rhythm, alternating cheeks. The flesh bounces and jiggles with each impact, a motion I can't control, can't stop. Tears stream down my face-not from pain but from pure, distilled humiliation. (playwhenread:"snib introduction")"Name's Snib, by the way." *CRACK!* "Figured ye should know who owns ye." *CRACK!* "Who's turnin' the great hero into a mewling cow."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",2,"peakFrom",0.42,"peakTo",0.38,"gapFrom",900,"gapTo",900,"attackMs",25,"holdMs",50,"releaseMs",100,"gapIntensity",0)) "I'll-" *CRACK!* "-kill-" *CRACK!* "-you-" *CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank ill kill you")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",3,"peakFrom",0.44,"peakTo",0.36,"gapFrom",600,"gapTo",600,"attackMs",20,"holdMs",45,"releaseMs",90,"gapIntensity",0)) Each word is followed by his palm on my ass, the sound wet now from sweat. My own sweat. These cheeks are so massive they're actually sweating from being spanked, the moisture making each impact sound like wet meat being tenderized. "With what?" He stops spanking just to SQUEEZE, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh like dough. "These little hands? These floppy udders? This fat ass I'm playing like a drum?"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",1,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.30,"gapFrom",200,"gapTo",200,"attackMs",200,"holdMs",400,"releaseMs",300,"gapIntensity",0)) I sob. The sound that comes out is high, broken, nothing like Aldric's voice. It's a woman's defeat leaking from a woman's throat. "Please just-" The words tear out before I can stop them. "Just fucking DIE! PLEASE! Just die and let this END!" "Aww," Snib coos, his hand rubbing circles on my burning ass cheek like he's soothing a child. "The big hero's beggin' now. Music to me ears." Something in me snaps. Not breaks-SNAPS back like a drawn bowstring. If I can just-if I can get my hands on him-](else-if:$choice is "Try to circle around to it.")["You know what you are?" I start circling left, keeping my voice steady despite the wobble in these torture-spikes. "You're nothing. Pest. Vermin that-" The weights on my chest swing left. I have to correct right. The metal heels scrape stone. "-that infests decent people's-" Swing right. Correct left. My ass shifts like saddlebags overpacked with grain. Too much ASS on me now. "-decent people's lands." Whisperwind is five steps behind him now. I just need to keep him focused on my face while I work my way around. The insults come easy. Seventeen years of killing his kind provides material. "Your mother fucked pigs to make something as ugly as-" My ankle rolls. The metal spike slips on something wet-moss? Goblin piss? My arms windmill. The meat on my chest flies up toward my face, then crashes down. I stumble backward, trying to catch myself, but these legs don't move right, these hips are too wide, everything's wrong. (pic:"ch02/fall again.jpg","Not AGAIN!")(playwhenread:"fall") My ass hits stone like a sack of flour dropped from a height. The impact sends everything jiggling: tits bouncing up and actually SLAPPING together with a meaty *CLAP*, ass spreading and compressing, thighs wobbling like custard. My teeth click together. My tailbone screams. (hidden_gem:"Before I can even process the humiliation, his hands are on me.","Before I begin brooding on the burning humiliation, his horrible hands have hold of me.") "Hehehehe-LOOK at 'em!"(playwhenread:"squish squish squish") His fingers sink into my left tit like he's testing bread dough. Small, warty fingers that barely cover a quarter of the flesh, squeezing and lifting. The sensation-Eon's mercy, I can FEEL it. Different from being grabbed by the arm or shoulder. Soft flesh compressing between his fingers, nerve endings I didn't know existed firing all at once.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",1,"peakFrom",0.28,"peakTo",0.28,"gapFrom",200,"gapTo",200,"attackMs",180,"holdMs",300,"releaseMs",250,"gapIntensity",0)) (pic:"ch02/grope tits.jpg") "No no no NO-" His other hand grabs the right one. Lifts it. Lets it drop. It falls like a water-filled pig's bladder, bouncing twice before settling. "Like bags of pudding!" He's giggling-actually GIGGLING like a child with a new toy. "Lookitlookitlookit-"(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 2") SLAP. His palm connects with the side of my right tit, sending it flying into the left one. They collide with another of those horrible meat-claps.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.35,"pulseMs",100,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Stop-fucking STOP-" SLAP. The left one this time. The flesh ripples in waves.(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.32,"pulseMs",100,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Squish squish squish!" He's got both now, one in each hand, squeezing rhythmically like he's milking a cow.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","rhythm","peakFrom",0.22,"peakTo",0.22,"baseFrom",0.04,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",500,"pulseMs",200,"forever",false,"beats",6)) The position is impossible. I'm on my ass, legs splayed to keep from falling backward, these metal triangles doing nothing to protect me from his groping. He pushes them together, making them bulge up toward my face. Pulls them apart. Pushes them together again.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","rhythm","peakFrom",0.20,"peakTo",0.20,"baseFrom",0.03,"baseTo",0.03,"intervalFrom",700,"intervalTo",700,"pulseMs",250,"forever",false,"beats",4)) "Heavier than me head!" He actually tries to lift one to test, the weight pulling at my chest. "How'd ye even walk with these?" "Get your fucking hands-" He pinches something. A peak that's gone hard in the cold air, visible through the metal triangle.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.38,"pulseMs",60,"count",1,"rest",0)) "I'm going to kill you." The words come out breathless. "I'm going to tear your-" "With what?" He jiggles them again, watching them move with fascination. "These floppy things? Gonna tit-slap me to death?" The rage is beyond anything I've ever felt. Not the clean rage of battle, but something deeper, more poisonous. The rage of being made into a joke. Of having parts of me that shouldn't exist being grabbed by hands that should be dead. "Name's Snib, by the way." He grins up at me, still kneading like he's making bread. "Figured ye should know who owns these now."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",1,"peakFrom",0.25,"peakTo",0.25,"gapFrom",200,"gapTo",200,"attackMs",250,"holdMs",500,"releaseMs",200,"gapIntensity",0)) *Owns.* The word breaks something in me.](else:)[I've charged enemies a hundred times. Low shoulder, explosive forward drive, come up swinging in the Reaper's Arc after plowing through. Fighting techniques are carved into my bones. This stunted little shit won't expect the speed, the violence of it. I'll go through him like he's made of parchment. I drop my shoulder and drive forward. The first step in these metal torture-spikes nearly ends it. My ankle rolls, the heel catching on nothing. But I compensate, muscle memory adjusting-except the muscle memory is for a body that weighed two hundred pounds of trained sinew, not... this. The weights on my chest swing violently left with my momentum. The physics are all wrong. Like carrying two sacks of grain that aren't tied down, that move on their own time. They pull me off-line. I correct right but they're still swinging left and now I'm stumbling, the metal boots scraping and catching, my soft, doughy thighs rubbing together, throwing off my gait. Snib sidesteps. Just sidesteps. Like avoiding a drunk. (hidden_gem:"My shoulder hits empty air where goblin should be.","My shoulder strikes sweet, empty atmosphere where awful goblin should've been.") My balance, already fucked, goes completely. The floor comes up fast. Instinct makes me throw my hands out, and I hit stone on all fours with a meaty SLAP that echoes through the ancient chamber.(playwhenread:"fall") (pic:"ch02/fall forward.jpg") The impact-Flux's balls, the IMPACT. These things hanging from my chest swing down and CLAP together like wet meat in a butcher's shop, the sound obscene in the cavern's silence. Pain shoots through them from the collision. They bounce back up, then down again, smaller claps following the first like thunder after lightning.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",3,"peakFrom",0.34,"peakTo",0.15,"gapFrom",250,"gapTo",400,"attackMs",20,"holdMs",40,"releaseMs",100,"gapIntensity",0)) My ass is up in the air, the position forcing too much of it high while my face is nearly on the stone. The metal triangle that's supposed to be armor has ridden up into the crack, leaving the cheeks completely exposed. Cold air on skin that shouldn't exist. That's when his hand connects. (pic:"ch02/ugh.jpg","left")*CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.42,"pulseMs",110,"count",1,"rest",0)) The sound is tremendous. My whole body lurches forward from the impact, these obscene meat-sacks under me swinging wild. The sting spreads across my right cheek like fire, but worse-so much worse-is the way the flesh JIGGLES. Ripples running through meat that should be hard muscle, wobbling like a kicked pudding. "HAH!" His laugh is right behind me. Close. Too close. "Look at that arse dance!" *CRACK!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.44,"pulseMs",115,"count",1,"rest",0)) The left cheek this time. I try to drop flat, to deny him the target, but he grabs the metal strap between my cheeks and PULLS, keeping my ass elevated. "Nah nah, keep it up there, cow-tits. Ye were chargin' so brave-like!" *CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!* Each impact sends waves through this soft flesh. I can FEEL it jiggling, can hear the meat slapping against itself. My face burns with shame hotter than the stinging in my ass. This morning I was inside Elara, powerful, dominant. Now I'm on all fours getting my ass beaten by something I should be able to step on.(playwhenread:"bet ya didnt have this much arse before") "Big jiggly hero!" *CRACK!* "Look at them cheeks bounce!" *CRACK!* "Bet ye didn't have this much arse before!" *CRACK!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",3,"peakFrom",0.44,"peakTo",0.38,"gapFrom",700,"gapTo",700,"attackMs",22,"holdMs",45,"releaseMs",95,"gapIntensity",0))(playwhenread:"bet ya didnt have this much arse before") Tears are streaming down my face. Not from pain-I've been stabbed, burned, had bones broken. This is nothing. It's the HUMILIATION. The complete inversion of everything I am. Warriors don't get spanked. Heroes don't get their asses played with by goblins. MEN don't. His fingers suddenly DIG into the soft flesh, kneading it like dough.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",1,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.30,"gapFrom",200,"gapTo",200,"attackMs",200,"holdMs",400,"releaseMs",300,"gapIntensity",0)) "Soft as butter," he mutters, almost amazed. I thrash, trying to shake him off, but the movement just makes everything worse. My tits swing and collide beneath me. My ass jiggles in his grip. The metal boots scrape uselessly on stone. "LET GO!" I shriek. That feminine voice again, high and desperate. "Name's Snib," he says conversationally, still groping, fingers sinking into flesh that yields like warm bread. "Figured ye should know who owns ye now." "You don't own-" *CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 2") This one's harder. Hard enough that I collapse forward, my soft tits compressed against cold stone. He keeps his grip on my ass, keeping it elevated, on display.(playwhenread:"snib introduction") "Oh, I owns ye alright. The collar says so. Says ye're mine to do whatever with." Another squeeze of my tit, casual as breathing.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",1,"peakFrom",0.22,"peakTo",0.22,"gapFrom",200,"gapTo",200,"attackMs",150,"holdMs",250,"releaseMs",200,"gapIntensity",0)) "And I wants to play slow. Real slow." My mind is fracturing. This can't be happening. I'm Aldric the Great. I've slain dragons. I've saved kingdoms. I don't get spanked by goblins. I don't have an ass that jiggles. I don't have TITS that clap together when I fall. But I do. The evidence is overwhelming: the weight pulling at my chest, the sting across my cheeks, the soft flesh currently being kneaded by diseased green fingers. "KILL YOU!" I scream into the stone. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" "With what?" Another CRACK across my ass. "Them little hands? That high squeaky voice? Gonna bounce me to death with them tits?"(playwhenread:"spank 3")] (simple_option:"02 final attack","Grab his ankle and pull him down!","Swing around and claw at his eyes!","Try to headbutt him in the crotch!")

(pic:"ch02/swing fist.jpg") (if:$choice is "Grab his ankle and pull him down!")[The Seventh Legion teaches you to use whatever's at hand. Right now, what's at hand is rage and this soft, heavy body. My fingers wrap around his scrawny ankle. Thin as a child's wrist, all knobby bone and warty skin. One good YANK and he goes down hard, his head cracking against stone with a sound like a dropped melon. "GAAAH!" He's on his back, dazed. I'm on him before he can recover, using the only advantage I have: weight. These obscene sacks of flesh on my chest actually help for once, pinning his scrawny frame as I straddle him. My hands find his throat. It's like gripping a plucked chicken neck, all gristle and loose skin. "Die." The word comes out as a hiss. "Die die DIE-" My thumbs press into his windpipe. His yellow eyes bulge. His hands scrabble at my wrists but I've got leverage now, got position. The metal boots actually help, the heel-spikes digging into stone for purchase. I lean forward, putting everything into it. (hidden_gem:"His face is turning beautiful colors-purple, then blue, then-","His face is flooding with fabulous, festive colors-purple, then periwinkle, then-") The collar BITES.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","ramp","from",0.15,"to",0.50,"steps",12,"duration",2800,"curve","sharp")) (pic:"ch02/collar.jpg","right","The collar explodes into ice around my throat.")Iron teeth punch inward and my windpipe crushes flat. My hands abandon his throat for my own, clawing at smooth metal. No gap, no seam, just cold iron eating into my neck while my lungs burn empty. I fall sideways, gasping. Black spots dance in my vision. My throat makes horrible clicking sounds as I try to breathe through a windpipe being crushed flat. Snib coughs, rolls away, then starts laughing. Wet, wheezing laughter as he watches me writhe. "Stupid cow!" He's on his feet now, rubbing his throat. "Thought ye could kill me? The collar won't let ye!" The pressure eases just enough for me to gasp. Sweet air floods my lungs. But the collar stays tight, a warning, a promise. "See, that's the thing." He plants his foot on my face, pressing my cheek into the stone. The humiliation of it: his dirty, warty foot on my face while I lie here gasping like a landed fish. "The collar says I own ye. Means ye can't hurt me. Try it and..." He makes a choking gesture. "Look at me." His foot grinds against my cheek. "LOOK AT ME, CUNT!"](else-if:$choice is "Swing around and claw at his eyes!")[Fingernails. These soft hands might be useless for holding a sword, but fingernails are fingernails. And eyes are always vulnerable. I swing around on my knees. The motion sends these fucking udders flying in an arc, but I use it, use the momentum. My hand comes up, fingers hooked into claws, aimed right at those yellow goblin eyes. Just need to hook them out, blind the little shit, then find a rock to cave his skull in. My nails rake across his face. Three red lines appear from forehead to chin, just missing his left eye by a hair. Green blood wells up immediately. "YAAAAH!" He staggers back, hand to his face. I surge forward on my knees. Can't risk standing in these metal spikes. Both hands this time, going for the throat, the eyes, anything soft. (hidden_gem:"I'm on him like a wildcat, all fury and flailing flesh.","I'm on him like a lunatic lioness, all lashing and lurching, loosely-swinging lady-flesh.") He goes down with me on top. My weight advantage is finally useful: these tits and ass might be humiliating but they're HEAVY. I pin his arms with my knees, hands going for his throat, his eyes, switching between targets as he thrashes. Green blood under my nails. His squealing filling the cavern. "DIE! Fucking DIE-" One thumb finds his eye socket, starts to press. The collar becomes a band of frozen hell around my throat.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","ramp","from",0.15,"to",0.50,"steps",12,"duration",2800,"curve","sharp")) (pic:"ch02/collar.jpg","right","The collar explodes into ice around my throat.")Iron teeth punch inward and my windpipe crushes flat. My hands abandon his throat for my own, clawing at smooth metal. No gap, no seam, just cold iron eating into my neck while my lungs burn empty. I topple sideways, these massive tits flopping as I hit stone. My legs kick uselessly, the metal boots clanging and scraping. Vision going gray at the edges. Mouth opening and closing like a fish drowning in air. Snib scrambles away, then starts laughing through his bloody face. "HAHA! Stupid bitch! Thought ye could claw me eyes out?" He wipes green blood from his cheek. "The collar won't let ye hurt me proper! It owns ye! I own ye!" The pressure eases just enough to let a whistle of air through. I gasp, sob, cough all at once. Snot runs from my nose. Tears stream down my face. "See how it works?" He kicks me in the stomach-not hard, just enough to make his point. "Ye can't kill me. Can't even hurt me bad. Try it and..." He makes a strangling gesture. "Look at me." He grabs my hair, yanks my head back. "LOOK AT ME, CUNT! Want ye to see who owns ye now!"](else:)[The rage is beyond thought now. Pure animal fury. He's close, standing over me laughing. His loincloth is tented, that massive thing underneath bouncing with his mirth. Target acquired. I rear back and drive my head forward at his crotch with every ounce of strength left in this soft body. The crown of my skull aimed right at that obscene bulge. Even goblins have to feel THAT. My forehead connects with something that feels like a leather-wrapped club. The impact reverberates through my skull, makes my teeth click.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.35,"pulseMs",140,"count",1,"rest",0)) But more importantly. "GRAAAAAAHHH!" Snib doubles over, hands flying to his crotch. His massive cock and balls might be his pride but they're also a weakness. He staggers backward, wheezing. I surge up-or try to. These fucking tits throw me off balance, but I manage to get to my knees. Then I lunge, wrapping my arms around his waist, using my weight to drive him down. We hit stone hard, him on bottom, me on top. The position is absurd. My tits are literally in his face, these metal triangles probably cutting into him. But I've got leverage. My hands find his throat while my knees pin his arms. One of the metal heel-spikes is inches from his temple. I raise my foot, ready to drive it through his skull. (hidden_gem:"This diseased creature dies NOW.","This disgusting, decrepit creature definitely dies NOW.") The collar remembers what it is.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","ramp","from",0.15,"to",0.50,"steps",12,"duration",2800,"curve","sharp")) (pic:"ch02/collar.jpg","right","The collar explodes into ice around my throat.")Iron teeth punch inward and my windpipe crushes flat. My hands abandon his throat for my own, clawing at smooth metal. No gap, no seam, just cold iron eating into my neck while my lungs burn empty. Can't breathe. Can't even gag. Just silent, airless thrashing as my windpipe closes completely. I fall off him, landing on my side. These fucking weights on my chest heave uselessly, trying to draw air that won't come. My legs kick, the metal boots scraping and clanging. Black flowers bloom across my vision. Snib coughs, sits up, then starts laughing even while holding his bruised balls. (playwhenread:"headbutted me cock")"Fuck... ye actually... hahaha... ye headbutted me cock!" He's wiping tears from his eyes. "But see? See what happens? The collar won't let ye kill me! It knows I own ye!" The pressure eases a fraction. A whistle of air gets through. I gasp like I'm drowning, strings of drool connecting my lips to the stone floor. "That's how it works, cow-tits." He stands over me, still rubbing his crotch but grinning. "The collar says yer mine. Means ye can't hurt me bad. Can't kill me. Try it and it'll strangle ye dead." He squats down, grabs my hair, yanks my head up. "Look at me." His voice drops to something almost serious. "LOOK AT ME, CUNT! Want ye to understand exactly who owns ye now!"](playwhenread:"look at me cunt") (simple_option:"02 look","Look into his eyes with pure hatred.","Look away in defeat.")

($play:"ambience","goblin cave")(if:$choice is "Look away in defeat.")[(pic:"ch02/broken.jpg") My eyes find the stone floor. The rage is still there, burning white-hot, but something else has crept in. Something I've never felt before. Defeat. "I said LOOK AT ME!" His fingers dig into my hair, yanking harder. I can't. Won't. My gaze stays fixed on the ancient stones, on the dust of civilizations that died before mine was born. Tears-actual fucking tears-blur my vision from the crushing realization that I'm trapped. That this diseased little creature has me on a leash I can't break. (change_stat:"heroism",-1)"Aww." He releases my hair, lets my head drop. "The big hero's given up already?" (pic:"ch02/leer.jpg") His bare feet slap stone as he circles behind me. I tense, expecting another spanking, but instead, fingers trace the curve where my ass meets my thigh. Small, warty fingers. That place that shouldn't exist, that junction of soft flesh I've never had before. His touch follows the crease with disturbing precision, like a butcher evaluating meat.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",2400,"cycles",1)) "So much woman now," he mutters, almost to himself. "All this soft flesh." His hand SINKS into my left ass cheek, fingers disappearing into flesh that yields like risen dough. *Assessing* it the way you'd test a horse's haunches before buying.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",1,"peakFrom",0.28,"peakTo",0.28,"gapFrom",200,"gapTo",200,"attackMs",250,"holdMs",500,"releaseMs",350,"gapIntensity",0)) (pic:"ch02/inspect butt.jpg") "The collar's tellin' me things," he says conversationally, kneading the meat like he owns it. Which he does. "Says yer Aldric. Big hero. Dragon slayer." I flinch. My name in his mouth feels like defilement. His other hand slides around my hip, finding the soft spot where belly meets pelvis. "Killed lots of me cousins." No anger in it. Just fact. "The collar says I should break ye slow. More fun that way." His face appears suddenly between my spread thighs, looking up at me from below. This angle. Flux's balls, from this angle these tits must look massive, blocking half his view. His nose is inches from where the metal triangle barely covers me. (pic:"ch02/back there.jpg","He takes a deep breath. SNIFF.") He takes a deep breath. SNIFF.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",1,"peakFrom",0.20,"peakTo",0.20,"gapFrom",200,"gapTo",200,"attackMs",300,"holdMs",600,"releaseMs",400,"gapIntensity",0)) "Mmmmm." The sound vibrates against my inner thigh. "Smell like a proper cunt now." The shudder that runs through me is pure revulsion. The space between my legs clenches involuntarily, a muscular response I don't understand, don't WANT to understand. This body has reflexes, responses, that aren't mine. He doesn't know what the collar is. I can see it in his yellow eyes-confusion mixed with glee. Something's whispering to him through it, guiding him, but he doesn't understand it any more than I do. "It says yer mine now," he says, tapping the iron at my throat. "But Says I get to play with ye however I want." Another squeeze of my tit, casual as breathing. "And I wants to play slow. Real slow." He steps back, hands on his hips, surveying me like a merchant examining goods. (pic:"ch02/leash.jpg","right")Something materializes in his hand-a leather strap extending from the collar. A leash. Like I'm a fucking DOG. His loincloth has shifted. What's underneath is the size of my forearm. Flux's bleeding balls. Purple-headed, visibly throbbing even through the ratty fabric. A wet spot spreading where the tip presses against the cloth. The smell hits me-concentrated piss mixed with something fungal, something that makes my nostrils burn and my head swim. I realize with crystal clarity what that thing is for. What it does. What goblins DO with captured women. The stories, the survivors found months later, swollen with goblin spawn...](else:)[(pic:"ch02/unbroken.jpg","The hatred in my eyes could melt iron.") The hatred in my eyes could melt iron. I stare up at this diseased piece of shit, this walking infection, this MISTAKE of nature that dares to stand over me. "You're a fucking plague." The words tear from my throat, raw with fury. "A disease that spreads through rape because you're too pathetic to breed your own women. You have to STEAL ours because even your own females would rather die than-" "HAHA!" His laughter is wet, phlegmy. "Mad that gobbo cock works better than human? Mad that yer women come back with green babies?" "You're parasites! Vermin! We burn your warrens for SPORT!" I try to surge up but the collar keeps me pinned, a warning pressure. "Every goblin I've killed-and I've killed DOZENS-died squealing like the pigs they-" (change_stat:"snib",-1)(hidden_gem:"He yanks my hair, forcing my head back at an angle that makes my neck scream.","He yanks my yielding hair, yanking my head at a hellish angle that has my hurting neck howling.") "Ye killed me cousins. Me brothers." He's grinning but there's something else in those yellow eyes now. Anticipation, not quite anger. "The collar tells me things. Says ye were a big hero. Says ye have a wife-" "DON'T-" (pic:"ch02/grab neck.jpg","right")"Says ye were tryin' to make babies." His grin widens. Horror floods through me like ice water. "See, I know how to break things proper." He releases my hair, stands up, adjusts that massive bulge in his loincloth. "Slow-like. Could just mount ye right now, pump ye full of gobbo babies. But where's the fun?" Something materializes in his hand-a leather strap extending from the collar. A leash. Like I'm a fucking DOG. "The collar says it's old magic. Older than yer kingdom. Turns enemies into whatever we want." He licks his lips. "And it says the best part is watchin' ye fight it while yer body learns what it's for." "I'll find a way to kill you." My voice is breaking but the rage keeps building. "You can't keep me on a leash forever, you diseased little-" *YANK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.30,"pulseMs",90,"count",1,"rest",0)) The leash pulls taut. The collar digs into my throat, not choking but commanding. I have to lean forward or fall over. "Up." One word. Not a request. I try to stand. Get halfway up, wobble, catch the wall. My tits swing forward and nearly spill free, and the heels won't let me plant my feet flat. This armor was forged for one purpose: to make the wearer kneel. "Walk." *YANK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.32,"pulseMs",90,"count",1,"rest",0)) (pic:"ch02/leash.jpg","right")I stumble forward. The metal spikes catch on stone-*CLACK CLACK CLACK*. Each step forces my hips to sway. My ass bounces. My tits jiggle. I'm a walking obscenity, and he's leading me like livestock. We pass goblin corpses. My kills from today, or yesterday, whenever this nightmare started. He pauses at one, a big brute with his skull caved in. "That's Gorthak. Had six kids." He spits on the corpse. "Ye probably don't even remember killin' him." They all look the same dead. "Ye think we're nothing but animals." He starts walking again, forcing me to follow on these torture-spikes. "Think we just rape and breed and die." "You DO-" "We got culture. Gods. Stories." Another corpse. "That's Snaggle. Best drummer in three tribes." "I don't CARE-" "Course ye don't." We're heading toward daylight now. "Humans never do. Just kill kill kill. Well, now ye get to see the other side." The rage is eating me alive. I need to think. Can't attack him directly-the collar will kill me. But if someone else does it? If he has an accident? If- That's when I see it. His loincloth shifts as he walks, and in profile- Eon's mercy. The thing swinging between his legs is the size of my forearm. Purple-headed, veiny, already half-hard from Flux knows what. The smell hits me a second later-concentrated musk, like a stable that's never been mucked. My stomach turns but something else happens too. Something worse.] (simple_option:"02 cock intimidation","He notices you looking...")

(set:$is_bad_end to false)($play:"song",0)($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","everbloom daytime ambience")(pic:"ch02/cock glimpse.jpg","left")The massive purple head throbs visibly through the stained fabric. A bead of something thick and white forms at the tip, soaking through, making the cloth transparent in that spot. My throat closes. Not from the collar this time-from memory. Three summers ago. The Westfort raids. We found the missing maidens in a goblin warren, their bellies swollen. No. But the thought won't leave. Those hollow eyes. The way they didn't want to be rescued. The way they begged to go back. "Our babies," they'd said. "Our masters need-" Veteran soldiers would go quiet when someone jokes about goblin raids. Not because of the killing. Because of what comes after. They breed our women. "Hehehe." Snib scratches himself, the motion making that monster shift. "Ye keep starin', jiggly-meat. Like what ye see?"(playwhenread:"ye keep staring jiggly") "I'm not-" "Gonna be yer new favorite thing," He grins, showing those broken teeth. "But not yet. Collar says slow. Says heroes need time to... marinate." He's proud of himself for using such a long word. He reaches past me, grabs Whisperwind from the rubble. My sword in his filthy hands-he can barely lift it properly, has to use both arms, but he manages. Swings it experimentally like a child with a stick. "Light for such a big sword." CLANG. He hits it against stone, giggling at the sound. "This killed lots of goblins, eh? Now it's mine. Like you. Now, let's get home." He tugs the leash. I'm forced to stand again, wobbling on these metal stakes. "Gonna be yer Master now. Teach ye proper." Another tug. Forward. *CLOP.* The first step in the metal heels echoes through the cavern like a bell tolling. My ankle immediately rolls. The leash goes taut, keeping me from falling. "Heh. Swing them hips, hero." *CLOP. CLOP.* Each step forces my hips to sway like a whore working a room. The heels demand it-there's no other way to balance. And everything follows a heartbeat late: tits hitting their peak after my footfall, ass rolling a half-second behind that, the whole body a cascade of flesh I can't control and can't stop watching. "Better!" He's delighted, swinging Whisperwind at cobwebs as we walk. "Look at that arse move! Like two pigs fighting in a sack!" The mine tunnels seem endless. Every twenty feet he yanks the leash to "correct" my walk. More hip. More bounce. "Soon ye'll be calling me Master and likin' it," he says conversationally, using MY sword to knock a loose stone. "Gonna have so much fun, you and me. Me hut needs cleaning. Me balls need draining. And ye've got all the right parts now." By the time we see daylight, my legs are shaking. Late afternoon sun streams through the mine entrance. How long was I unconscious? How long has Elara been- "Get down." His voice changes. Sharp. Serious. I follow his gaze. Three figures approach on the road-miners by their gear, probably coming for afternoon shift after what I told Mayor Bramble. They haven't seen us yet, but they will in moments. (pic:"ch02/miners approach.jpg") "Behind them rocks. NOW." He yanks me behind a cluster of boulders. We crouch-or I try to. These tits make it awkward, pressing against my thighs. The metal barely covering me digs in everywhere. "Listen good, hero-cunt." His breath is hot on my ear, reeking of rot. "They see us, it's over. No more slow breaking. I'll mount ye right here in the dirt like the cow ye are. Breed ye while they watch. That what ye want?" The miners are closer. I can hear their voices now. "-told us it would be clear by now-" "-Aldric never fails-" Aldric. They're talking about me. About how I promised the mine would be safe. Every fiber of my being screams to call out. These are my people. Humans. They could help, could kill this creature, could- But Snib's threat isn't empty. I can see it in his yellow eyes. The miners are twenty feet away. Fifteen. I can see their faces now-Hedric, Bors, young Timothy who just started last month. (simple_option:"02 miners","Call for help!","Stay silent.","doom")

(if:$is_bad_end)[(set:$choice to "Call for help!")]($play:"ambience","everbloom daytime ambience")(if:$choice is "Call for help!")[(badendsave:"Broodmare")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/shocked/1.png")($play:"song","ridden music")The words claw up my throat before I can stop them. "HELP ME!"(playwhenread:"help me") The voice that tears from me isn't Aldric's commanding bellow. It's high, desperate, cracking with tears I didn't know were falling. A woman's plea. A victim's cry. The miners freeze. Their hands go to their picks. (pic:"ch02/miners see.jpg","The miners freeze. Their hands go to their picks.") Snib snarls and YANKS the leash so hard I'm pulled backward, tits flying up into my face before I crash onto my ass. The metal spikes scrape stone as I scramble. "*Grashk! Mortuk! Kregga nas velim!*" Snib shouts in that chittering tongue, his voice carrying. "*Humies! Kill! Kill!*" The miners' faces go white. They think-of course they think there are more. "Please!" I sob, reaching toward them even as Snib's foot plants on my back. "Please, I'm-there's just one! Just him! PLEASE!" But they're already backing away. Hedric's got his pick raised. Bors is pulling young Timothy back. "Timothy!" The name tears from my throat. He trained under me last summer. Learned the Third Guard position. "Timothy, it's-" The collar CONSTRICTS. Instantly, my words become a strangled wheeze. Black spots dance across my vision as Snib's hand comes down on my ass with a ringing CRACK that echoes off the mine entrance. "Bad cow!" He spanks me again, harder, making a show of it.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.42,"pulseMs",110,"count",1,"rest",0)) The miners can see everything-this tiny goblin dominating what looks like a captive woman. "Trying to trick nice humans! Bad!" (hidden_gem:"Through my oxygen-starved vision, I see Timothy's face twist in horror.","Through my throttled, throbbing vision, I view Timothy's terrified face twist in horror.") He recognizes something. Not me-he could never recognize me like this. But the humanity. The desperation. "We should-" he starts. "It's a trap, boy!" Hedric grabs his arm. "You know what they do! Use the women as bait after they've-after they're broken!" "But what if-" "You heard him call for others! There's probably dozens in there!" Snib grins at them, gives my ass another theatrical CRACK. "This one's trained good! Watch!" He tugs the leash and I'm forced to my knees, gasping as the collar loosens just enough to let me breathe. "See? Broken proper!" "Aldric said he'd clear them out," Bors mutters, already backing toward the road. "Must've failed. Or died." "No." The word comes out as a whisper. They can't hear it. "No. I'm right here." But Timothy's already being dragged away. Our eyes meet for one horrible moment-his full of pity for what he thinks is some ruined woman, mine full of desperate recognition he'll never understand. (pic:"ch02/miners flee.jpg","They run.") They run. Actually run. Three grown men with picks, running from one goblin. Their boots thunder on the road, getting quieter, quieter, gone. Hedric's lantern abandoned in the dirt. Bors's mining helmet rolled into the ditch. (simple_option:"02 continue","Silence...")](else:)[($play:"song","snib hut theme")My mouth opens. The scream builds in my chest, pressing against my ribs like a caged beast. *Help me. HELP ME. I'M RIGHT HERE.* But nothing comes out. Not even a whisper. Because I can feel the collar waiting. Cold iron pressed against my throat like a blade's edge, ready to crush my windpipe the moment I disobey. And worse-I can see the promise in Snib's yellow eyes. The miners trudge past, boots crunching gravel. So close I can smell the coal dust on them, the honest sweat of working men. Hedric's discussing overtime pay. Bors mentions his wife's stew. Timothy-sweet, eager Timothy who just learned to hold a blade two months ago-is humming some tavern song off-key. Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 2") Snib's warty hand slides over the swell of my ass, fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh, *owning* it. His thumb traces the line where cheek meets thigh, that crease that shouldn't exist on Aldric's body but does on mine. I can feel him grinning behind me as his fingers explore, marking his territory while my people walk by, oblivious.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",1,"peakFrom",0.25,"peakTo",0.25,"gapFrom",200,"gapTo",200,"attackMs",300,"holdMs",800,"releaseMs",400,"gapIntensity",0.03)) (pic:"ch02/good girl.jpg","'Good girl. Keeping quiet like a proper cow.'") "Good girl," he whispers, breath hot and rotten against my ear. "Keeping quiet like a proper cow."(playwhenread:"quiet like a proper cow") Eight feet. I can see Timothy's profile. There's dirt under his fingernails. A new scar on his jaw from practice. He's grown since summer. My heart hammers so hard I'm sure they'll hear it. These massive tits heave with each desperate breath, threatening to spill from their metal triangles. Sweat pools between them, runs down my stomach. Five feet. (hidden_gem:"Snib's hand squeezes harder, fingers dimpling the meat of my ass.","Snib's slimy, sinister hand sinks deeper, digits dimpling my doughy ass.") They pass. (pic:"ch02/deal with it.jpg") Their voices fade down the tunnel, echoing off stone until even that dies. The last sound is Timothy's humming, growing distant, gone. "See?" Snib releases my ass with a wet pat that makes the flesh jiggle.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.18,"pulseMs",80,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Ye can be trained. Thought maybe I'd have to break ye fast, all at once. Boring." He stands, yanking the leash to make me follow. "But ye showed ye can obey. Makes things more fun." My legs shake as I rise on these torture-spikes. The collar hasn't tightened, but I can still feel its threat. Like a hand hovering over my throat, ready to squeeze. "Collar knows ye're learning," he says, leading me away from the mine entrance. "Says the slow way is best. Heroes always think they'll find a way out. Makes it sweeter when they realize they won't." We don't take the main road. Of course not. Snib tugs me toward a gap in the treeline-barely a deer trail, choked with undergrowth. "Can't have more humans seein' us," he explains, using Whisperwind to hack at low branches. My sword, reduced to a machete. "Not yet. Not till ye're proper broke." The first step into the forest loam is disaster. My heel-spike punches straight through the soft earth, sinking three inches deep. When I try to pull it free, the mud sucks at it with an obscene *SCHLOOORP*. My weight shifts forward, tits swinging like grain sacks, throwing me off balance. The other heel sinks. "HAHA!" Snib's laughter could strip bark from trees. "Look at ye! Like a cow stuck in mud!" I wrench one foot free, stumble forward, sink again. Each step is a battle-the heels punching through leaf litter and soft soil, my ankles rolling, these weights on my chest swaying violently. The metal thong rides up with each high step, cutting between my cheeks like cheese wire.(playwhenread:"forest walk") *SQUELCH-CLOP.* Pull foot free. *WOBBLE.* Tits swing left. *SQUELCH-CLOP.* Other foot sinks. *WOBBLE.* Tits swing right.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",1600,"cycles",4)) "Ye walked through here this morning, didn't ye?" Snib calls back, still giggling. "Bet it was easier with a cock and proper boots!" A root catches my heel. I go down hard, my tits literally slapping together with a meaty CLAP that echoes through the trees.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",2,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",250,"gapTo",250,"attackMs",22,"holdMs",35,"releaseMs",110,"gapIntensity",0)) Wet leaves stick to my skin. The position-on my knees in the dirt while this creature laughs at me-makes bile rise in my throat.(playwhenread:"fall sand") (pic:"ch02/bad end/fallen.jpg","'Up, cow! We got distance to cover.'") "Up, cow! We got distance to cover." I struggle upright, now covered in forest filth. My hair-this long, silky hair that isn't mine-has twigs in it. There's mud on my thighs. These metal cups are full of dead leaves. (simple_option:"02 forest","Continue through the forest...")]

(set:$name to "Elise")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/2.png")(set:$map_position to (a: 772,2341))(map: (a: 348, 2232),(a:506,2337),(a: 772,2341))($play:"sex loop","forest walk")($play:"song","snib hut theme") ($play:"ambience","everbloom forest day")The Everbloom stretches before us, ancient pines so thick their canopy blocks the late afternoon sun. Shafts of golden light pierce through like temple windows, illuminating clouds of pollen that drift like fairy dust. Beautiful. Serene. Everything I'm not. *SQUELCH-CLOP.* My heel tears free from mud with the sound of a wet kiss. The other sinks immediately. My tits-Flux's balls, these things weigh like millstones-swing forward with such momentum I nearly topple. Have to throw my arms out for balance, which makes them swing again, which makes me stumble. "Hurry up, tit-slave!" Snib yanks the leash.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:60,0.08),(a:280,0.14),(a:450,0.06),(a:600,0.09),(a:750,0.04),(a:900,0.06),(a:1050,0.02),(a:1200,0)))) "We got ground to cover before dark!" Something shifts in the boots. The spikes flatten? Not completely, but enough that I'm not punching holes in the earth with each step. My calves still scream from the angle, tendons stretched like bowstrings, but at least I can walk. Sort of. The armor obeys him. Of course it does. "That's better!" He scampers ahead, then circles back around me, literally dancing in circles while I trudge. "Look at ye go! Swing them hips! Make them udders bounce!" (pic:"ch02/lead out.jpg","He's back to using the leash...") A woodpecker hammers somewhere above. The normal forest sounds-birds, insects, the whisper of wind through pine needles-all continue like nothing's wrong. Like the world hasn't ended. Like I'm not being led through my homeland on a leash by something I've killed hundreds of. "Humans love to step on goblins," Snib chatters, skipping backward in front of me so he can watch my tits bounce with each step. "Squish us like bugs. Call us vermin. Monsters." His grin widens. "But I got meself a HERO! Wait till the Gobboree! They'll shit themselves!" I stare straight ahead. Don't engage. Don't react. Just walk. One foot. Other foot. Ignore how my thighs rub together, how this metal strap saws between my ass cheeks, how my hair-so much thrashing hair-sticks to the sweat on my back. "The collar's tellin' me things," Snib continues, now walking sideways like a crab to keep watching me. "About you. Aldric. AL-DRIC." He sounds it out like he's tasting something exotic. "Stupid name. Hero name. Not yer name anymore." (hidden_gem:"The rage builds in my chest like forge-fire, but I keep walking.","The rage rises in my ribs like roaring red forge-fire, but I keep walking.") (pic:"ch02/stream.jpg","The river runs dark as its name suggests, stained by tannins leached from pine roots, the water like weak tea.") We reach the Pitchwater an hour in. The river runs dark as its name suggests, stained by tannins leached from pine roots, the water like weak tea. Kingfishers dive for silver fish that flash in the amber depths. An otter watches us from a fallen log, whiskers twitching, before sliding silently away. I know this spot. Elara and I picnicked here last spring. She wore that yellow dress that made her skin glow. We made love in the ferns while dragonflies danced overhead. (if:(get_choice:"01 Begin","Be romantic."))[(pic:"ch02/memory gentle.jpg","We made love in the ferns while dragonflies danced overhead.")](else:)[(pic:"ch02/memory rough.jpg","We made love in the ferns while dragonflies danced overhead.")] Now I'm being led past it in chains and slutwear.(playwhenread:"yer elise") "Collar says yer name is Elise now." Snib splashes through the shallows while I have to pick my way across stepping stones, each wobbling step threatening to spill me into the water. "EL-EEE-SEE. Pretty name for a pretty thing." "That's not my name." First words I've spoken in an hour. They come out in this musical feminine voice that makes me want to scream. "Is now!" He cackles. "Collar picked it special. Says it means something in the old tongue." He frowns, concentrating. "Don't matter. Point is, ye're Elise. My Elise. My bouncy, jiggly, tit-heavy Elise!" The forest gives way to wetland as we follow the river. Cypress trees rise from standing water, their knees poking up like ancient bones. Moss drapes everything in green curtains. A heron watches us pass with one golden eye, neck coiled to strike at fish. My heels sink into the spongy ground with each step. The sucking sounds-SCHLORP, SCHLORP-are obscene in the marsh quiet. Mud splatters up my legs. The weight on my chest never rests-each step launches a chain reaction of bounce and sway, the flesh colliding with soft meaty claps that make Snib giggle like a child watching puppets. "Learned magic, didn't ye?" He's walking on a fallen log like it's a balance beam while I struggle through the muck below. "Smart humie. Fire and ice and wind." He jumps down, lands in front of me. "But ye can't use 'em without my say-so now. Need Master Snib's permission to do yer little tricks!" "You're not my master." The words come out flat. Dead. "Oh but I am!" He reaches up-has to really stretch-and flicks one of my nipples through the metal triangle. The sensation shoots through me like lightning.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.40,"pulseMs",50,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Own every bit of ye. From them fat tits to that virgin pussy. Gonna make ye work for me. Clean me hut. Wash me balls. Maybe even let ye fight for me, earn some gold!" (pic:"ch02/swampland.jpg","The marshland gives way to scrub, then sand.") The sun drops lower. The marshland gives way to scrub, then sand. The desert spreads before us, still radiating heat from the day. My feet are raw inside the metal boots. My calves cramp with every step. My back aches from the weight on my chest. Everything hurts. And still Snib talks. "Never been the luckiest goblin," he admits, leading me up a dune. "Tribe kicked me out. Said I was too small, even for a gob. But look at me now! Got the mighty Aldric on a leash! Gonna be rich! RICH!" I stumble. Fall to my knees in the sand. My tits swing forward and actually hit the ground, sending up little puffs of dust.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.20),(a:80,0.08),(a:350,0.26),(a:500,0.16),(a:650,0.10),(a:800,0.05),(a:950,0)))) Kneeling in sand while this creature holds my leash, my tits dragging in the dirt. I want to die. "Up, cow! Almost home!" I could have called to the miners. Should have. They would have helped. Three men with picks against one goblin. But I was a coward. Let them walk by because I was scared of the collar, scared of his threat. What kind of hero does that? (pic:"ch02/hut.jpg") (simple_option:"02 hut","Arrive at the hut.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/1.png")(set:$map_position to (a:2504,2924))(map: (a: 1670,2430),(a:1931,2499),(a: 2271,2864),(a:2504,2924)) ($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")The hut squats against a dead olive tree like a boil on diseased flesh. Mud-brick walls lean drunkenly, patched with dung and what might be bones. The thatched roof sags in the middle, held up by stolen planks that still have Eboncrest mill-marks on them. This is where I'm supposed to live now. This shit-heap. (pic:"ch02/not thrilled.jpg","right")"Home sweet home!" Snib announces, yanking me through the doorway that's so low I have to duck, making my tits swing and slap together.(playwhenread:"home sweet home",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.24),(a:120,0.10),(a:320,0.16),(a:480,0.07),(a:620,0.10),(a:760,0.04),(a:900,0)))) ($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","snib hut theme")The stench hits like a physical blow. This nose is better than Aldric's. MUCH better. I can pick apart the layers - dried cum on the furs, sennights of it. Piss soaked into the mud-brick. Rotting meat from that pot in the corner. And underneath, something musky and alive that bypasses my brain entirely and goes straight to my cunt.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:400,0.06),(a:900,0.12),(a:1400,0.08),(a:1900,0.04),(a:2400,0)))) My skin crawls. My thighs press tighter together. "That's Jarkrond!" Snib points to a desert horse tied outside-massive grey beast with yellow eyes and scars covering its flanks. The thing's cock is half-dropped from its sheath, pink and mottled. "Watch out, he's randy! Tries to mount anything with a cunt! HAHA!" Inside is worse than I imagined. One room, maybe twenty feet across. A pile of stained furs in one corner that must be his bed-they're crusty with Flux knows what. A smaller pile of straw that's brown with age. One wooden plate, cracked. One cup. A pot with something growing inside it. And trophies. Women's smallclothes nailed to the walls. A lock of red hair tied in a knot. A broken doll that's been used for... I can't look at it. (pic:"ch02/hut interior.jpg","Inside is worse than I imagined.") (hidden_gem:"Snib props Whisperwind against the wall like a walking stick, MY sword in HIS hovel.","Snib stations my steel, my Whisperwind, against the wall like a worthless walking stick, MY weapon in HIS wretched warren.") My sword. Whisperwind. The blade that's tasted dragon blood now leans against mud brick, already gathering dust. My chest tightens seeing it there. That sword is MINE. Forged for my hand. Blessed by the ($lorebook_entry:"Ephemerals","things"). Now it's just another trophy in this cesspit. "Hungry!" Snib announces, pulling something from a clay pot. It's meat, maybe. Grey-green, with maggots writhing through it. He tears off a chunk with his teeth, juice running down his chin. "Aged rabbit! Three sennights old! Want some?" I gag. "No? More fer me!" He talks while chewing, showing the rotting meat mulching between his broken teeth. "So here's how it works, tit-slave. Yer gonna clean this place up nice. See that broom? That's yer new best friend. Well outside fer water-old thing, been here forever. Some kind of ancient stone well. Works though!" He points to the straw pile. "That's where ye sleep. Right there where I can see ye. Keep an eye on me property." (pic:"ch02/hay.jpg","'That's where ye sleep. Right there where I can see ye. Keep an eye on me property.'") Property. The word makes my hands clench into fists. "Tomorrow ye start earnin' yer keep proper. But tonight." He grins, those yellow eyes traveling down my body with ownership. "Tonight I just wanna look at what I got. Turn around. Slow." "No." "Turn." The collar tightens slightly. A warning. I turn, burning with shame, my heels scraping the dirt floor. Can feel his eyes on every inch-the way my ass cheeks swallow the metal thong, how my tits sway with the motion, the red marks where the armor cuts into soft flesh. "Got meself a woman," he mutters, almost amazed. "A proper breeding-age human woman. Been so long since..." He trails off, adjusting the massive bulge in his loincloth. "Tribe always said I was too small to get a proper humie mate. But look now! Got the best one! A HERO-CUNT!" "I'm not your woman." The words come out strangled with rage. (pic:"ch02/lighting fire.jpg","right")"Sure ye are! Gonna make me rich, ye are." He scratches his balls thoughtfully as he starts a fire. "Might keep ye longer. Yer gonna clean, cook once I teach ye how. Maybe even let ye use that sword again, fight for me! Earn gold that way too!" My heart leaps at the mention of using Whisperwind again, then crashes when I realize it would be in HIS service.(playwhenread:"two cunts for the price of one") "And that wife of yers..." He grins wider. "Elara. Pretty name. Red hair, the collar says. Nice round arse, though the tits aren't as big as yers now. Bet she's wondering where her big strong husband went." No. No no no. "Maybe we visit sometime! They won't kill me if ye protect me. Maybe I'll convince her to join us. Two cunts for the price of one! If ye just explain real nice how good I treat ye-" "You fucking PARASITE!" The rage explodes out of me. "You disgusting, shit-eating, worthless-" He laughs at my fury. "Listen to that voice! All high and pretty! Even when yer angry ye sound like a songbird!" He walks closer, having to crane his neck to look up at my face. "Here's the thing, cow-tits. Ye're gonna make my life good. Real good. To make up for all them goblins ye killed. And soon enough..." He reaches out and cups my pussy through the metal thong. Just cups it, like he's weighing fruit at market.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:80,0.10),(a:250,0.22),(a:500,0.28),(a:900,0.30),(a:1300,0.28),(a:1700,0.30),(a:2100,0.26),(a:2500,0.18),(a:2800,0.08),(a:3000,0)))) "Soon ye'll be servicin' me proper. Suckin' this-" He grabs his bulge with his other hand. "Drainin' these balls daily. Maybe hourly once ye get a taste for it." I jerk back, shaking. Every muscle coiled to strike. To grab Whisperwind and run him through, collar be damned. Maybe it won't kill me. Maybe it's a bluff. Maybe. "But I'm patient," Snib continues, settling onto his pile of furs with a contented sigh. "Won't force nothin'. Long as yer a good slave, make my life better, the entertainment of havin' ye around is enough. For now." He pulls his loincloth aside to "adjust" himself, giving me a full view of that purple monstrosity. The head is the size of my fist, already weeping clear fluid. The smell of it fills the hut-rotten fish and cheese and something that makes my head swim. "Look at ye shakin'!" He's delighted. "The great Aldric, scared of goblin cock! Don't worry, ye'll learn to love it. They all do. Eventually." Tears prick at my eyes. Actual tears. I haven't cried since my mother died, and now I'm about to sob in front of this creature. This is my life now. This stinking hut. This disgusting creature pawing at me. My sword just out of reach. My wife miles away, probably crying herself to sleep wondering where I am. I'm going to kill him. Collar or no collar. (simple_option:"02 attack final","Grab Whisperwind and attack!")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png")(pic:"ch02/about to strike.jpg","left","My hand closes around Whisperwind's grip and the world shifts into clarity.")($play:"ambience","fireplace")($play:"song",0)(playwhenread:"sword pickup")The rage becomes motion before thought. My hand closes around Whisperwind's grip and the world shifts into clarity. The leather remembers my palm. The weight settles into my bones like coming home. Thirty inches of skyforged steel sings as I lift it-a smooth draw that flows like water finding its course. The blade catches the dirty lamplight and throws it back clean, pure, *hungry*. Whisperwind knows me. Through the soft flesh. Through these wrong curves. The star-sapphires in the crossguard pulse once, twice, like a heartbeat resuming. The sword recognizes the hand that has fed it blood for seventeen years. And it knows what needs doing. The collar tightens, ice-cold iron crushing my throat, but I don't care. Black spots dance at my vision's edge but my grip stays true. These heels dig into the dirt floor, finding purchase. My stance widens to compensate for the weight on my chest, these massive tits that pull me forward. My thighs burn as I coil for the strike. (hidden_gem:"The blade rises like dawn breaking over a battlefield.","The blade blooms upward like brutal, blood-hungry dawn breaking over a battlefield.") Snib's yellow eyes go wide. Real fear now. Not the calculating wariness from before but the pure animal terror of prey recognizing death's arrival. He scrambles backward, trips over his own cooking pot, lands on his warty ass. "Wait-" Whisperwind describes the perfect arc. The Ninth Guard transitioning to Reaper's Fall. Muscle memory older than thought. The sword whispers through air that seems to thicken with anticipation. This is the strike that split the basilisk's skull. That opened the throat of the Thuulk Strangler. That has ended a hundred monsters and will end one more. The blade stops. Hangs frozen in treasonous air. Two feet from Snib's head, Whisperwind hangs frozen in space like it's struck an invisible wall. My arms shake with the effort of trying to complete the strike. Veins stand out on my forearms. These tits heave with each desperate breath. But the sword won't move. Can't move. The collar's command is absolute. "AHAHAHA!" Snib's laughter explodes out of him as he realizes he's not about to die. "Oh, that was good! Real good! Ye almost had me!" My arms give out. Whisperwind falls from nerveless fingers, hitting the dirt with a sound like my heart breaking. The beautiful blade lies there, still gleaming with righteous fury, wanting so badly to complete its purpose. To do what it was made for. To protect the innocent by ending the guilty. But I can't pick it up again. My hands won't obey. Snib stands, brushing dirt off his ass. Then, grinning that broken-glass grin, he reaches down and loosens his loincloth completely. His cock springs free. (pic:"ch02/defile pick up.jpg") "Ye know what?" He wraps his warty fingers around the shaft. "That deserves punishment."(playwhenread:"handjob") "Don't-" The word comes out as a whisper. He starts stroking. Slow. Deliberate. His cock hardens with each pump, going from its already-massive flaccid state to something truly monstrous. Twelve inches of purple-headed breeding meat, thick as my wrist, my old wrist, with veins like rope running along its length. *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK* The sound fills the hut. Wet. Obscene. His precum starts flowing immediately, drooling from the slit in thick strings that stretch toward the floor. "Look at me," he commands, still stroking. "LOOK AT ME, hero."(playwhenread:"yer nothing now") I can't look away. This tiny creature, barely reaching my waist, is standing here jerking his massive cock while I kneel helpless. The smell of it-rotted fish and cheese-makes my eyes water. "Yer whole legacy," *SCHLICK-SCHLICK* "All them monsters ye killed," *SCHLICK-SCHLICK* "Don't mean shit now." (pic:"ch02/horrified.jpg","Tears run down my face. Ugly, humiliating tears...") Tears run down my face. Ugly, humiliating tears that drip off my chin onto these massive tits. He circles me, cock in hand, precum leaving a trail on the floor. The head is purple-dark, flared like a mushroom, angry-looking. His balls swing heavy between his legs, covered in wiry black hair, each one the size of a large apple. "Ye're nothing now. Just tits and holes." He stops in front of Whisperwind, propping it up, still pumping. "And this sword? Yer precious blade?" "No." Horror floods through me as I understand. "No, don't-please-" (pic:"ch02/defile pre.jpg","'No, don't-please-'") (simple_option:"02 cum on sword","Look away.","Watch, horrified.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/1.png")(playwhenread:"cum 1")($play:"ambience","cry")($play:"song","snib hut theme")(if:$choice is "Look away.")[(pic:"ch02/cant watch.jpg","I can't watch this...") His balls draw up tight against his body, the wrinkled sack contracting. I hear his breathing change-deeper, more guttural. Animal. "Here it comes," he grunts. "Here comes yer new reality!" I squeeze my eyes shut. Turn my head away. I can't watch this. I won't. The sound is worse than watching would be. That wet SPLAT of something heavy and viscous hitting metal. Whisperwind actually RINGS from the impact-a pure note corrupted into something sick. The smell hits immediately-rotten cheese mixed with dead fish mixed with something sweet-sick that makes my stomach clench. "LOOK AT IT!" Snib roars. "LOOK AT YER-UNGH!" (pic:"ch02/defile cum dark.jpg","Not... looking...") (sperm:"SPLOOOOOORT!",4,"splurt 2")Another wet impact. Heavier. I can hear it splashing, dripping. The sound of thick liquid hitting metal and stone. My whole body shudders. This can't be happening. This three-foot creature can't be- (sperm:"SPLURT-GLOOOOORP!",6,"splurt 3")This one sounds different. Pressurized at first, then a horrible wet GLOP like porridge being poured from height. The stench intensifies-now I understand what that smell in the hut was. Old cum. Everywhere. And now fresh cum, hot enough I can feel the warmth of it from here. "This is-UNGH-what heroes-FUCK-are worth!" (hidden_gem:"Each word punctuated by another wet splatter I refuse to see.","Each evil word escorted by another wet, wretched splatter I won't witness.") (sperm:"GLORP-SPLAT-SPLAT!",3,"splurt 4")Multiple impacts now. Different directions. I hear cum hitting the wall, the floor, but mostly-mostly my sword. That beautiful blade that's saved my life a hundred times, now being defiled by- I whimper like a frightened girl. The sound escapes before I can stop it. "Yeah, that's right! Whimper for me, cow-tits! Yer sword's getting BAPTIZED!" (sperm:"SPLOOOOOOOGE!",5,"splurt 5")This goes on forever. Three seconds, maybe four, of continuous wet sound. Like someone pouring thick stew but wrong, so wrong. I can hear it pooling, dripping, the obscene weight of it. Snib's grunting like a rutting boar, his breath coming in sharp gasps. "Cock-snot for the hero's sword! Goblin nut-butter! Ball-sludge! This is what yer worth now!" (sperm:"BLORT... BLORT... BLOOOOORT!",4,"splurt 6")The final spurts. Each one accompanied by a grunt of satisfaction. Then silence except for dripping. Constant dripping. Plop. Plop. Plop. "Open yer eyes, cow. Look what I done." I don't want to. But the collar tightens slightly-a warning-and I open them. Whisperwind is unrecognizable. (change_stat:"heroism",-1)(pic:"ch02/defile pre tg.jpg","Thick ropes of cum crisscross the blade like spider silk made of custard.") Yellow-white sludge covers it from pommel to point. Thick ropes of cum crisscross the blade like spider silk made of custard. Chunks of something white float in the yellow-grey slime. The crossguard is completely obscured by a thick glob that hangs down in obscene stalactites. The leather grip is soaked, stained. Snib shakes his cock, still semi-hard, droplets flying. One hits my bare thigh and burns like acid.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.18,"pulseMs",45,"count",1,"rest",0)) "There we go," he pants, satisfied. "Now it's mine. Like you." I'm sobbing. Ugly, body-shaking sobs that make these massive tits heave and bounce. Whisperwind lies there, drowning in goblin cum that fills the entire hut with its presence-that rotten fish and cheese stench that makes me gag. "See that?" Snib tucks his still-dripping cock back into his loincloth where it makes an obscene tent. "That's yer future, cow-tits. Whatever I want to cum on, I cum on. Whatever I want to own, I own. And right now?"](else:)[His balls draw up tight against his body, the wrinkled sack contracting like a fist. His cock flexes-actually FLEXES like a muscle-and the head flares even wider, purple-dark like a bruised plum about to burst. "Here it comes," he grunts, eyes rolling back. "Here comes yer new reality!" (sperm:"BLURRRRRT!",5,"splurt 1")The first rope erupts with the force of a crossbow bolt. It's not liquid-it's almost solid, a thumb-thick cable of yellow-white sludge that arcs through the air and SLAPS across Whisperwind's blade with an audible splat. The sword actually rings from the impact, a pure note corrupted. (pic:"ch02/defile cum.jpg","I can't look away.") I can't look away. I'm transfixed by the sheer wrongness of it-this three-foot creature producing more cum than should be physically possible, his cock jumping with each pulse like it's trying to escape his body. (sperm:"SPLOOOOOORT!",4,"splurt 2")The second rope is even thicker. Custard-dense, with visible chunks of something white floating in the yellow-grey slime. It coils around the crossguard like a living thing, dripping down in obscene stalactites. The smell hits me-rotten cheese mixed with dead fish mixed with something sweet and wrong that makes my head swim. "LOOK AT IT!" Snib roars, his whole body convulsing. "LOOK AT YER PRECIOUS BLADE!" (sperm:"SPLURT-GLOOOOORP!",6,"splurt 3")This one comes out in stages-first a pressurized jet, then a thick glob that hangs from his cockhead on a two-foot string before splattering onto the fuller. The cum is HOT. I can see steam rising from it in the cool desert night. It's chunky like porridge that's been left out, with a skin forming on top that breaks when the next rope hits. (hidden_gem:"His cock is a fountain of corruption, each pulse sending more thick ropes of goblin seed onto my blade.","His cock becomes a creator of corruption, each cruel contraction catapulting chunky cables of clotted cream onto my cherished blade.") "This is-UNGH-what heroes-FUCK-are worth!" Each word punctuated by another disgusting ejaculation. His cock VOMITS cum, retching up impossible amounts. (sperm:"GLORP-SPLAT-SPLAT!",3,"splurt 4")Multiple streams now, spraying in different directions but all finding Whisperwind. One rope hits the pommel, another coats the leather grip, a third draws a line down the entire length of the blade. The cum is so thick it doesn't run off-it CLINGS, like melted cheese, forming bridges between different parts of the sword. The goblin's face is pure ecstasy. This tiny, warty creature with a cock that belongs on a breeding bull, his yellow eyes locked on mine as he defiles everything I am. His mouth hangs open, black tongue lolling out, drool mixing with snot as he grunts like a rutting animal. (sperm:"SPLOOOOOOOGE!",5,"splurt 5")The biggest yet. A continuous stream that lasts three full seconds, hosing down the blade like he's pissing but thicker, chunkier. I can hear it hitting the metal-SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT-each impact another nail in the coffin of my dignity. "Cock-snot for the hero's sword!" He's laughing and cumming at the same time. "Goblin nut-butter! Ball-sludge! This is what yer worth now!" (sperm:"BLORT... BLORT... BLOOOOORT!",4,"splurt 6")(change_stat:"heroism",-2)The final spurts come in waves, each one punctuated by his whole body jerking. His cock flexes so hard it slaps against his belly between shots, leaving snail-trails of cum on his own warty skin. The last rope is almost pure white, thick as custard, and it lands directly on the star-sapphires in the crossguard. They go dark. Snib shakes his cock, sending droplets flying. One hits my cheek-hot and thick, burning like acid.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.20,"pulseMs",45,"count",1,"rest",0)) He's still semi-hard, the head still drooling cum in a continuous stream that forms a puddle on the dirt floor. "There we go," he pants, satisfied. "Now it's mine. Like you." I'm sobbing. Ugly, body-shaking sobs that make these massive tits bounce. Whisperwind lies there, drowning in goblin cum that steams in the lamplight, the stench filling the entire hut with its presence. (pic:"ch02/defile pre tg.jpg","Thick ropes of cum crisscross the blade like spider silk made of custard.") "See that?" Snib tucks his still-dripping cock back into his loincloth where it makes an obscene bulge. "That's yer future, cow-tits. Whatever I want to cum on, I cum on. Whatever I want to own, I own. And right now?" ] He grins, showing all those broken teeth. "I own YOU." (simple_option:"02 sword tg","Your sword begins to change...")

(set:$whisperwind to "defiled")($play:"song","sword transform")($play:"ambience","cry")The silence after his orgasm is worse than his laughter. Whisperwind lies there in the dirt, drowning under layers of goblin seed that steam like fresh horse shit in winter. The blade that has sung through a thousand battles, that has tasted dragon blood and demon ichor, now wears a shroud of chunky yellow-white sludge that reeks of rotted fish and sour milk. I watch, unable to look away, as something impossible happens. The cum *moves*. *Infiltrating*. Where each rope of seed touches the skyforged steel, the metal darkens like infection spreading through a wound. The blade's natural iridescence, that shift from blue to silver to violet, dims and dies, replaced by the flat black of burned iron. The corruption spreads outward from each point of contact, veins of darkness racing along the fuller. "No." The word comes out broken. The star-sapphires in the crossguard, which have pulsed with inner light since before memory, crack with sounds like breaking teeth. Their celestial blue leaks out like blood, replaced by the dull red of dried scabs, before disappearing entirely. The runes of wind along the blade-those promises and threats carved by storm-smiths-writhe and reshape themselves into the same twisted script that marks my collar. (pic:"ch02/defile tg.png","Whisperwind is dying, and I'm watching it happen.") (hidden_gem:"Whisperwind is dying, and I'm watching it happen.","Whisperwind is withering, waning, and I'm witnessing its woeful wake.") The leather grip, worn smooth by my palm over seventeen years, darks to black and cracks like dried skin. The pommel's eye, that mysterious mark that never looked where you thought, fills with pus-yellow cataracts and goes blind. But the worst is yet to come. The blade *shrinks*. Thirty inches compresses to twenty-four. The perfect balance destroyed. The weight wrong in my palm for the first time in seventeen years. Too light, too short, sized for the hands I have now. And then, across the crossguard in blocky, mocking script, letters burn themselves into the metal: **ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO** (pic:"ch02/defile end.jpg") "AHAHAHA!" Snib's laughter could strip paint. "Look at that! Even yer sword knows the truth now! Says it right there-GOBLIN-OWNED!" I'm sobbing. Ugly, body-shaking sobs that make these obscene tits bounce and jiggle. Seventeen years. Seventeen years that blade has been part of me. My identity. My purpose. The extension of my will made steel. (notification:"Whisperwind's power has decreased.")Now it's just another thing Snib has taken from me. "Here's the deal, cow-tits." He stretches out on his pile of crusty furs, hands behind his head, cock still making an obscene tent in his loincloth. "Ten thousand gold. That's yer price." I look up through tears, snot running from my nose. "Make me rich-ten thousand gold-and I'll let ye go. Easy as that." "You're lying." My voice comes out small, broken. "Can't lie to ye direct, actually. Collar won't let me. No point anyway." He yawns, showing all those broken teeth. "Ten thousand gold and yer free. That's the deal." Ten thousand. I have that. It's in the bank at Eboncrest. Every copper I've saved over seventeen years of monster-slaying. Meant to provide for Elara and our children. The children we were trying for. "But first," Snib continues, already drowsing, "ye clean up me hut. Tomorrow. Make it nice for once. Then maybe we visit that wife of yers." "No." The word tears from my throat. "Oh yes. She needs to see what her big strong husband's become. Maybe she'll want to join ye. Two wives better than one, eh?" He's drifting off, not even worried about me attacking him in his sleep. Why would he be? The collar won't let me hurt him. Won't let me run. Won't let me do anything but obey. "Sleep on the straw there," he mumbles, half-asleep. "Where I can see ye. Guard me property." Then he's snoring, a wet, rattling sound like someone drowning in phlegm. I look around the disgusting hut that's now my prison. The pile of brown, rotting straw that's supposed to be my bed. It probably has fleas. Or worse. The stench of cum and piss and rotting meat so thick I can taste it. The women's smallclothes nailed to the walls like trophies. The broken doll with its hollow eyes. And Whisperwind. My beautiful blade, reduced to a cum-stained parody of itself, the metal still steaming where goblin seed eats into its soul. The inscription mocking me in the lamplight: ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO. I crawl to the straw on hands and knees because I don't trust myself to walk in these heels. My tits drag along the dirt floor, the metal triangles collecting filth. The pile is worse up close-stained with Eon knows what, crawling with small things that scatter when I approach. But I'm too broken to care. I collapse onto it, these massive tits making it impossible to lie on my stomach, forcing me onto my side where they stack on top of each other like obscene pillows. The straw pokes through the gaps in my armor, scratching at soft skin that shouldn't exist. (pic:"ch02/sleep/snib.jpg") From here I can see everything. Snib sleeping without a care, his massive cock still half-hard and tenting his loincloth. Whisperwind dying in its pool of cum. The door that I can't walk through. The life I can't get back. (notification:"You're on the verge of a mental breakdown... steel your mind!")(minigame:"02 break down",5,"You're on the verge of a mental breakdown... steel your mind!")

($play:"song","sadness")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(pic:"ch02/sob.jpg","The sobs are ugly, desperate sounds that I can't control.") (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/1.png")($play:"ambience","cry")The sobs are ugly, desperate sounds that I can't control. This high voice wailing grief that belongs to someone else-except it's mine now. Mine forever. The tears run hot down soft cheeks, drip off this weak chin onto tits that heave with each gasping breath. (change_stat:"heroism",-3)I'm never getting out of this. The thought spreads like poison. Ten thousand gold? Even if I get that for him, he won't let me go. Why would he? I'm everything he's ever wanted-a hero brought low, a killer made slave. This is entertainment that will last him years. Elara will never see her husband if I return to Eboncrest. She'll see this... thing. This walking pair of tits with her husband's eyes. How could she love this? How could anyone? My mother told me I'd die heroically. Saving innocents. Making the world better. Instead I'll die on my back with a goblin between my legs, belly swollen with monster spawn, just another cautionary tale whispered in taverns. The armor digs into my flesh like it's trying to cut me in half. Everything hurts. These tits are too heavy. These heels have ruined my feet. This collar chokes every breath. I'm so tired. So fucking tired.](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(pic:"ch02/resolute.jpg","I close my eyes and find the cold place inside.") ($play:"ambience","fireplace")I close my eyes and find the cold place inside. The same place I found when Mother died. When I held the line at Bitter Creek with three arrows in my gut. When the basilisk's venom was burning through my veins. My tits shift as I breathe and I ignore them. My thighs press together over nothing and I ignore that too. (change_stat:"heroism",1)I am Aldric. The meat is wrong. The curves are lies. But the mind inside this skull is still mine. Still sharp as Whisperwind once was. This goblin thinks he's won? He's shown me his weakness: greed. Ten thousand gold and I'm free. A problem with a solution. A battle with victory conditions. I've crawled through the Underworks beneath Thuulk, where the air was poison. Through the Blood Marshes, where every step could mean death. This is just another dungeon. Just another monster to outwit. The collar can't reach the tactical mind that's won a hundred impossible fights. Let him think I'm broken. Let him believe his victory is complete. I've played dead for basilisks. I can play slave for a goblin. Tomorrow begins the campaign. Patience instead of swords. Endurance instead of magic. Every hero's tale has its darkest hour. This is mine. Dawn always comes.](playwhenread:"hay") (pic:"ch02/hay.jpg","The hay reeks of horse piss and mold.") The hay reeks of horse piss and mold. I scoop out the worst of it, black with rot and crawling with beetles, and drag over fresher stuff from the half-bale in the corner. Still straw. Still disgusting. But dry, at least. I stare at it, then down at myself. The armor cuts into me everywhere. Metal triangles bisect nipples gone hard in the desert cold, the thong so far up my ass it might be exploring my spine. Every breath makes the scales dig deeper. But taking it off means being naked. In front of him. Giving in. (pic:"ch02/hay bed.jpg","Still straw. Still disgusting. But dry, at least.") (simple_option:"02 sleep armor","Keep the armor on.","Take it off.")

($play:"song","sadness")($play:"ambience","fireplace")(playwhenread:"hay")(if:$choice is "Keep the armor on.")[(pic:"ch02/sleep/uncomfortable.jpg") I lower myself onto the straw still encased in metal. (change_stat:"heroism",1)The moment my back hits the ground, I know this was a mistake. The armor doesn't bend. It just digs deeper. The triangular cups shift, crushing one nipple while the other pops free. I try to adjust but that makes the thong saw deeper between my cheeks. These tits are too heavy. On my back, they fall sideways into my armpits, the metal edges cutting into the soft flesh beneath. I try my side. They stack on top of each other, the bottom one going numb immediately while the top one tries to escape its prison. The boots are the worst. My feet scream inside them, toes crushed into points, calves locked in permanent spasm. But they won't come off. When I reach for the buckles, they're not where they should be. The metal has sealed itself. Fine. FINE. I curl into a ball, knees up, these massive udders compressed between my thighs and chest. The hay pokes through every gap in the armor: my sides, my back, the exposed curves of my ass. Something with too many legs crawls across my thigh. Sleep. Just sleep. Tomorrow I'll figure out the rest.](else:)[(change_stat:"heroism",-1)Fuck it. I can't sleep like this. My fingers find the clasps. Except they're not where they were before. The bikini top has hidden its releases under the flesh of my breasts. I have to lift each heavy tit to find the tiny mechanisms underneath, my fingers slipping on sweat. *Click.*(playwhenread:"jingle") The metal springs away and my tits DROP. Free fall. They hit my ribs with an actual slap, then spread outward like dough on a baker's table. For the first time, I see them without the armor's constraint. (pic:"ch02/sleep/remove bra.jpg","Pale. Massive. Capped with nipples the size of gold coins.")(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:150,0.18),(a:350,0.22),(a:520,0.12),(a:680,0.15),(a:830,0.08),(a:980,0.10),(a:1120,0.05),(a:1300,0)))) (hidden_gem:"Pale. Massive. Capped with nipples the size of gold coins.","Pale. Plump. Peaked with nipples pink as gold-coin profiles.") The aureoles, those darker circles I remember from whores' tits, are wider than my palm. Everything bounces when I breathe. When I shift to pull off the thong, they roll and resettle like water finding its level.(playwhenread:"remove thong") (pic:"ch02/sleep/remove thong.jpg","When I finally work it free and peel the metal away from my pussy, strings of clear liquid stretch between the metal and my flesh.")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:300,0.04),(a:700,0.08),(a:1100,0.12),(a:1500,0.10),(a:1900,0.06),(a:2300,0)))) The thong's clasp hides at the base of my spine. When I finally work it free and peel the metal away from my pussy, strings of clear liquid stretch between the metal and my flesh. They snap with tiny wet sounds. I don't think about what that means. I won't. The boots come off last. My fingers shake as I find the hidden catches behind my calves. When the metal finally releases- "Unhhhh..." The moan escapes before I can stop it. My feet uncurl for the first time in hours. Blood rushes back. The relief is so intense my eyes water. My toes spread in the dirty air, tendons popping, muscles unknotting. (playwhenread:"jingle")(pic:"ch02/sleep/remove boots.jpg","My feet uncurl for the first time in hours.") Naked now except for the collar. I curl on my side in the straw, these absurd tits stacked like obscene pillows. The bottom one goes numb. The top one's nipple grazes the hay, sending unwanted shivers through me.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:150,0.14),(a:250,0.08),(a:400,0.16),(a:500,0.06),(a:650,0.12),(a:800,0.04),(a:950,0)))) My thighs press together, hiding that soft nothing between them. My ass spreads behind me. There's so much of it. Snib snores on, oblivious. At least there's that.] The straw scratches everywhere it touches. My skin, soft and thin now, feels every piece. Something crawls across my hip. The desert cold seeps in without the metal to trap my body heat. Time to pray. The Ephemerals have to be listening. They have to. (simple_option:"02 pray","Pray to the Ephemerals.")

($play:"ambience","fireplace")($play:"song","sadness")(if:(get_choice:"02 sword tg","Fail Check") and (get_choice:"02 break down","Take it off."))[(pic:"ch02/sleep/pray sad naked.jpg","The prayer dissolves into wordless sobbing.")(playwhenread:"cry") My hands fold over these obscene tits, trying to find the prayer position. Everything's wrong. The weight on my chest, the soft fingers, the tears that won't stop falling. "Eon who holds yesterday-" My voice cracks, high and broken. "You remember Aldric. You REMEMBER him. You have to. The oaths sworn. The blood spilled for-for-" A sob wracks through me, making everything jiggle. "I can't-Flux, you who turns all things-turn this back. Please. This isn't transformation, this is-this is mockery. This is-" I hiccup. Snot runs from my nose onto these massive tits. "I was supposed to father children. Not-not birth goblins. Flux, you know the natural from the profane. This body is profane. These udders, this hole, this-" The words dissolve into blubbering. I try again. "Verge-" Another sob. "Through your door lies-lies what? What threshold is this? What doorway leads from hero to-to THIS?" My voice rises to a wail I muffle in the straw. "The path. Where's my thrakking PATH? Eon's yesterday is gone, Flux's change is nightmare, Verge's door leads nowhere but-but spreading my legs for that THING-" Blasphemy. But I can't stop. "You were, you are, you will be-but I'm NOT. I'm not anything now. Not man, not woman, just-just meat. Tits and holes. Is this the journey? IS THIS THE THRACKING JOURNEY YOU-" (hidden_gem:"My prayer breaks into wordless sobs.","My prayer becomes pitiful, pathetic sobs.") "Please," I whisper into the straw, voice raw. "By the three roads. By time's arc. Show me the way back. Or forward. Or through. Just... somewhere that isn't here." The Ephemerals don't answer. They never do. Sleep takes me still crying, still naked, still trapped in flesh that tomorrow I'll have to learn to live in.](else-if: (get_choice:"02 sword tg","Fail Check") and (get_choice:"02 break down","Keep the armor on."))[(pic:"ch02/sleep/pray sad clothed.jpg","The prayer dissolves into wordless sobbing.")(playwhenread:"cry") I clasp my hands together, these soft fingers that aren't mine. The metal triangles dig deeper into my tits as I try to form the proper mudras. Tears and snot run down my face, dripping onto the hay. "Eon who... who keeps the ledger..." My voice breaks into a sob. "You remember Aldric. You remember who I-who I was. Before this morning. Before the collar. You have to remember because I'm starting to-to-" I can't even finish. The prayer form is wrong. You're supposed to state what was, acknowledge what is, accept what comes. But I can't. I fucking can't. "Flux, you turn all things and... and..." The words scramble. "This change is wrong. This isn't your river, this is... this is drowning. Turn it back. Please. Turn the wheel backward just once. Just this once." My voice rises to a wail. Snib snorts in his sleep but doesn't wake. "V-Verge..." I'm blubbering now, the formal words completely gone. "The door. Show me the door out. Any door. I'll walk through anything. Cut off these tits myself if I have to. Just show me which threshold leads back to... to..." The prayer dissolves into wordless sobbing. The Triad requires recognition of reality-past, present, future. But I can't recognize this. Can't acknowledge that Aldric was, that Elise is, that something worse will be. "Please," I whisper to whoever might be listening. "I know I've killed. I know I've been proud. But not this. Anything but this. Let me die clean. Let Elara remember me as I was. Please. Please. Please." (hidden_gem:"The gods give no answer except Snib's wet snoring.","The gods grant no gesture except goblin's guttural, gurgling snoring.") My eyes close on their own, exhaustion finally winning. The last thing I feel is the collar, cold against my throat, heavy as the silence of heaven. Sleep takes me, and I dream I still have a cock.](else-if:(get_choice:"02 break down","Keep the armor on."))[(pic:"ch02/sleep/pray clothed.jpg") The straw scratches through every gap in the armor. I close my eyes and try to find the gods in this darkness. "Eon, Keeper of Was-" My voice cracks. This feminine sound coming from my throat. I swallow, the collar cold against my neck, and try again. "Eon. You who holds all oaths. Remember that I am Aldric. Remember my mother's grave where I swore to protect the innocent. Remember Elara's hand in mine before your altar. Remember who I WAS before this-" A sob breaks through. "Before this meat. Before these... these things hanging from me." The metal triangles dig deeper as my breathing quickens. "Flux-" The tears come now, hot and shameful. "Turner of What Is. You're already turning me, aren't you? Already making me into-into HER. Into this. But you turn all things twice. The tide goes out and comes back. The sword that enters also withdraws. Turn me BACK. Please. I'll give anything-I'll forge a hundred blades in your name, I'll-" My voice breaks completely. Snot runs from my nose. "V-Verge..." I'm whispering now, afraid to wake Snib. "Threshold-Keeper. Guardian of desperate voyages. This is the threshold, isn't it? This is the door you're making me walk through. But I can't see the stars on the other side. I can only see-only see goblin spawn and shame and-" (hidden_gem:"The armor cuts into me with each shuddering breath.","The armor carves into me with each crushing, choking breath.") "Show me the door out. Any door. Even if it's death. Even if it's the Forgetting. Just... please. Don't let this be how Aldric ends. Not as a goblin's toy. Not with these-these udders and this empty space where I should be whole." Silence answers. The gods, if they're listening, offer nothing. "You were," I whisper, remembering the catechism. "You are. You will be." What I was: a hero. What I am: meat in metal. What I will be... I can't finish the thought. Sleep takes me, still armored, still crying, while somewhere in the dark, the Ephemerals keep their silence.](else:)[(pic:"ch02/sleep/pray naked.jpg") I close my eyes and picture them as the priests taught. Eon with his hourglass, ancient and patient. Flux, neither and both, eternal change. Verge's door of stars, always opening to the unknown. "Eon, Keeper of Was," I whisper into the straw. "You remember Aldric's oaths. The promises to Elara. The vows at our wedding. You keep the ledger-you know who I really am beneath this... this flesh." My voice cracks. These massive tits rise and fall with each shuddering breath. "Flux, Turner of Is." The words come harder now. "This change-this wrong transformation-you allowed it. You who births babies and quenches swords, you let me become... this. Turn the wheel again. Please. Turn it *back*." Tears run sideways across my soft cheek, pooling in my ear. "Verge, Guardian of Will-Be." My voice breaks completely. "I stand at your threshold. Naked. Humiliated. Less than I was. Show me the door. Any door. Even the hard one. Even the one that hurts. Just... show me *through*." I curl tighter, these obscene breasts compressed between my thighs and chest, my body shaking with silent sobs. "You were," I whisper, remembering the catechism. "You are. You will be." What I was: a hero. What I am: soft flesh and shame. What I will be... I fall asleep before I can finish the thought, tears still wet on this face that isn't mine.] (simple_option:"03 next morning","The next morning...")

($play:"song","ridden music")($play:"ambience","everbloom daytime ambience")The silence stretches between us like a held breath. The miners are gone. My last hope, running down the path into the Everbloom. Snib scratches his balls through his loincloth, studying me with those yellow eyes. I'm still on my knees in the dirt, tears cutting tracks through dust on this soft face that isn't mine. "Well." He draws the word out, tasting it. "That was real stupid, weren't it?" (change_stat:"snib",-5) He starts circling me. Slow. Deliberate. Like a wolf that's already eaten and is just deciding what to do with leftovers. Whisperwind drags behind him, tip scarring the earth. "Thought they'd save ye?" He stops directly behind me. I feel his gaze on my ass, on the way the metal strap disappears between cheeks that are too large, too soft. "Three humans against a big scary goblin horde?" "There IS no horde-" *CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:100,0.28),(a:250,0.18),(a:400,0.10),(a:580,0.06),(a:750,0)))) His palm connects with my right asscheek hard enough to knock me forward. My hands shoot out to catch myself, and suddenly I'm on all fours. The position. Flux's balls, the POSITION. These udders hang straight down, swaying like overripe fruit. The metal triangles dig deeper, barely containing the flesh that wants to spill free. "See, that's the funny part." Another spank, lighter, almost thoughtful. "They think there's dozens of us. Think Aldric the Great got himself killed." He laughs, that wet chittering. "And here ye are, the great hero himself, on hands and knees with yer arse in the air." (hidden_gem:"The shame burns hotter than his handprint on my ass.","The shame scalds and sears, surpassing his scarlet handprint on my ass.") I try to push up, to stand, but he plants his foot between my shoulder blades. A reminder. "Stay."(playwhenread:"ye called for help") One word. Like I'm a dog. "I'm not-" "Ye called for help after I told ye not to." His foot grinds down slightly, forcing my chest lower. The position makes my ass rise higher, makes these tits hang even more obscenely. "That's real disobedient, cow-tits. Real ungrateful." "Ungrateful?! You fucking-" "Could've just killed ye." He removes his foot, walks around to face me. Has to crouch to meet my eyes since I'm on all fours. "Could've bent ye over right there, showed them miners what heroes become. But I didn't. I'm being nice. Slow-like." His loincloth shifts. The outline is massive. The *tip* of that accursed thing presses against the fabric, leaving a wet spot that grows as I watch. The smell of it makes my nostrils flare. (pic:"ch02/bad end/wedgie.jpg") "But ye had to go yellin'." He stands, scratches his chin like he's thinking deep thoughts. "Now I gotta teach ye proper. Make sure ye understand the rules." "Rules?" I spit the word. "I don't follow your-" He tugs the leash. Not hard, just a reminder it's there. The collar doesn't tighten, but I feel its weight. Its promise. "See, here's what yer gonna do." He walks behind me again, and I hear him adjusting himself. The wet sound of his cock sliding against his belly. "Gonna be me transport now. Me pretty pony." "What?" "Ye heard me." He's standing directly behind me now. I can feel the heat of him, smell that concentrated reek. "Heroes used to ride horses, yeah? Well, now yer the horse. Poetic justice, the collar calls it." "I won't-" "Won't ye?" His voice drops, becomes almost conversational. "Ye can say no. Can try to stand up. And I'll just..." He trails off, but his hand finds my ass again, holding. Possessing. "Well, I'll make ye do it anyway. Collar'll squeeze that pretty throat. Ye'll pass out. Wake up with me balls on yer face. Or..." His thumb traces the line where the metal thong disappears between my cheeks. The touch is light but devastating.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.04),(a:300,0.08),(a:600,0.13),(a:900,0.17),(a:1200,0.20),(a:1500,0.17),(a:1800,0.12),(a:2100,0.06),(a:2400,0)))) No one should be touching me there. Not there. "Or ye can be smart. Crawl nice-like. Play pony for a bit. I bet those boots are hurtin' ya anyway." The humiliation of it crashes over me in waves. Being given a choice that isn't a choice. Submit willingly or be forced. "Tick tock," he says cheerfully. "Sun's gettin' low. Long walk to me hut. Prettier ye'll look crawlin' in the dark, but I'd rather see them tits swing in daylight." I think of Elara. Of what she'd say seeing her husband, her HUSBAND, on all fours with a goblin on my back. The image makes me want to vomit.(playwhenread:"oh were begging now") "Please." The word escapes before I can stop it. "Please just walk. I'll follow. I won't run. Just-" "Oh, we're beggin' now?" He sounds delighted. "Big strong hero's beggin' not to be a pony?" He leans down, his breath hot on my ear. "Tell ye what. Ye ask real nice-real, REAL nice-to be me mount, and I won't make ye trot. Just a walk. Nice and slow." "I... I can't..." "Sure ye can! Just say..." He puts on a high, mocking voice. "'Please, Master Snib, let me be yer pretty pony. I promise to crawl real good with me tits swingin'.'" Rage fills my skull like smoke in a sealed room. But under it, drowning in it, is something worse. Fear. (pic:"ch02/bad end/fallen.jpg") Because I know, I KNOW, he'll make good on his threats. The collar will force me. And it will be worse than if I just... No. I'm Aldric the Great. I don't crawl for goblins. I don't become anyone's mount. I'd rather die than- (simple_option:"02 pony","Submit and crawl.","Refuse.")(set:$name to "???")

($play:"song","ridden music")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/2.png")($play:"ambience","everbloom dusk ambience")(if:$choice is "Submit and crawl.")[The words that leave my mouth taste like ash and defeat. "Please... just... I'll crawl."(playwhenread:"ill crawl") (change_stat:"heroism",-10)Not the full degradation he wanted. Not 'Master.' Not 'pretty pony.' But enough surrender that his yellow eyes light up with glee. (change_stat:"snib",1)"Smart cow!" He claps his hands like I've performed a trick. "See? Already learnin'." He circles behind me, and I hear him spit in his palms, rubbing them together. Then his fingers sink into my hair. Not gentle, not cruel, just *functional*. Like gripping reins. "Let's go then. Into the trees. Can't use the main road-yer too pretty now, might cause trouble." He tugs left, toward the forest line. My palms press into dirt and pine needles as I start to move. The first crawl-step forward and- (hidden_gem:"My tits swing down like grain sacks on loose rope, pulling at my shoulders with their momentum.","My tits tumble down like two tremendous sacks on stressed rope, yanking at my yielding shoulders with their momentum.") They PULL. Each crawl-step launches them into a figure-eight swing: left forward while right swings back, then reversing. I can't predict which way they'll drag me next. The metal triangles gave up containing them miles ago; flesh spills around every edge, pink crescents bitten deep. When I lean too far forward my nipples rake through pine needles and I gasp like I've been stabbed.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:100,0.22),(a:200,0.15),(a:350,0.25),(a:450,0.12),(a:600,0.18),(a:700,0.06),(a:850,0)))) "Hehehehe! Look at 'em go!" Snib bounces on my back, his weight negligible but his presence enormous. "Like two piglets fighting in a sack!" My hands sink into loam. The forest floor is soft here, centuries of pine needles making a carpet. But humans aren't meant to crawl like this. My spine wants to arch up but his weight keeps it pressed down. My hips are too wide, making my knees splay outward. And these fucking boots- Wait. They've... changed? The metal extends higher now, past my knees, with ridged padding on the caps. Like they're *designed* for crawling. The armor WANTS me to crawl. It's helping me crawl. The realization makes bile rise in my throat. "Not the road. Forest path. That way." He steers me toward a barely visible track between the pines. Goblin trail. Where his dead kin came from. I crawl. Pine needles stick to my palms. My tits drag through dirt and dead leaves with each forward motion, collecting forest debris. The weight of them pulls my spine into an arch that makes my ass rise higher, presenting it. Whisperwind drags behind us on its leash from my collar, my legendary blade scraping through mud. (pic:"ch02/bad end/dragging sword.jpg","Whisperwind drags behind us on its leash from my collar, my legendary blade scraping through mud.") "Ye know what yer new name is?" Snib asks conversationally, like we're having tea. "The collar told me. Real pretty name for a pretty thing."(playwhenread:"yer names elise") I don't answer. Can't. Just focus on moving forward. Right hand. Left knee. Tits swing left. Right knee. Right hand. Tits swing right. The rhythm is hypnotic in its humiliation. "Elise." He draws it out. "Eee-leese. El-EESE." Each pronunciation more mocking than the last. "The collar knows all about ye, Elise. Knows ye were Aldric. Knows about yer wife-" "Don't-" He yanks my hair hard enough that my back arches, tits swinging backward to slap against my ribs. "Knows ye were trying to put a baby in her. Bet she's wondering where her big strong husband went. Aldric's dead. Been dead since the collar clicked." Tears blur my vision. I crawl forward, deeper into the Everbloom. The sun is getting low, casting long shadows through the pines. My knees are already raw, even through the weird metal padding. My palms sting. But worse is the weight. Always the weight. Every movement sets them swinging, and I can't predict it, can't control it. Sometimes they swing together, sometimes opposite, sometimes one gets caught on something and pulls me sideways.(playwhenread:"horsey") Twenty minutes. Thirty. My arms shake. Sweat runs down my face, down my back, pooling where Snib sits. The forest is thick here, untraveled. Branches catch my hair. Thorns scrape the exposed sides of my tits. I'm panting like a dog, each breath making them sway more. "Getting tired already?" Snib shifts on my back. "We got miles to go." That's when I feel him moving, adjusting. Something drops onto my lower back. Fabric. His loincloth. He's... "Just airin' out," he says cheerfully. "Gets sweaty under there." The smell intensifies tenfold. Concentrated goblin musk, like rotted cheese mixed with battlefield latrines. But worse is what comes next. I feel him shift, skin against my hair, and then- Weight. On my skull. Heavy, warm, *alive*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:200,0.04),(a:600,0.08),(a:1000,0.12),(a:1500,0.14),(a:2000,0.14),(a:3000,0.14),(a:4000,0.12),(a:5000,0.10)))) It can't be. He didn't. He wouldn't- "Ahhhhh." He sighs with satisfaction. "Much better. Nothin' like fresh air on the boys." I feel his weight shift forward. His hands grip my hair tighter, using it for balance. Then something else touches the back of my neck. Weight. Warm, living weight. Like two overripe plums in a leather sack, pressed against where my neck meets my skull. They're hot, almost fever-hot, and I can feel them... churning? Moving? The skin is wrinkled, rough, dragging against my neck as he adjusts. The smell hits me a second later. Concentrated musk, like a stable that's never been mucked out, mixed with something fungal.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",2400,"forever",true)) (pic:"ch02/bad end/ride.jpg","His balls. His fucking balls are resting on my neck.") "Keep going," he says, voice lazy now. "Long way yet." I sob. But I crawl forward, and that's when I feel something else. A weight on top of my head. Heavy, warm, draped from his groin over my skull like a sleeping snake. It shifts when he moves, sliding against my hair. The weight of it is obscene. How can something attached to a creature so small be so heavy? It pulls at my scalp, making my head tilt forward. "Yer hair's real soft," he notes, using it to steady himself. "Good for holdin'." His cock. That's his cock on my head. That massive, purple thing I glimpsed is just resting on me. Using me like a shelf. The forest path gets rougher. I have to navigate roots, rocks. Each obstacle makes me shift, which makes my tits swing wildly, which makes him bounce, which makes that thing on my head flex. Just a small movement. A twitch. But I feel it pulse, feel it grow slightly heavier. Warmer. "Ye were so proud," he says dreamily. "Big hero. Dragon slayer. Now look at ye. Crawlin' through dirt with yer udders draggin', gobbococked." He made that word up but I understand it perfectly. Another flex. Stronger. The weight shifts forward slightly, sliding down toward my forehead. I can feel the shape of it now through my hair. Thick as my wrist (my old wrist), with a ridge that catches as it moves. "Elise the Great," he giggles. "Elise the Crawler. Elise the Tit-Wagon." It's growing. I can feel it extending, getting heavier, sliding further forward. The head of it must be past my hairline now because I feel something wet drip onto my scalp. Just a drop. Warm and thick.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.14,"pulseMs",50,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Oops," Snib says, not sounding sorry at all. "Gettin' excited. Can't help it with all this bouncin'." Another drop. This one runs down through my hair, following my part. I want to shake my head, to dislodge him, but the collar is there, always there, promising consequences. We crest a small hill and I see it. Miles of forest ahead. The Everbloom stretches into the distance, and somewhere beyond that, the desert where he lives. This is impossible. I'll collapse. My arms are already shaking, my knees bleeding through the metal guards.](else:)[I plant my palms harder into the dirt, trying to lock my elbows. "No." The word comes out stronger than I feel. My whole body is shaking-rage, fear, humiliation all mixing into something toxic. "I'm not your fucking mount. I'm not your ANYTHING. I'll die before I-" The collar remembers what it is. Ice-cold iron becomes a closing fist. Instantly, my hands fly to my throat, abandoning their support. I topple forward. My tits swing down like two overfilled grain sacks dropped from height. Flux's balls, the WEIGHT of them. They hit the earth with dual thuds that knock the wind from me, compressed between my ribcage and cold dirt, flesh bulging sideways like dough pressed flat. Can't breathe. Can't even gag. Just silent thrashing as the collar squeezes tighter, tighter- "Stubborn cow," Snib observes, like commenting on weather. His foot connects with my ass. Not a kick, just a push. But with no air, no balance, I sprawl forward. My face hits dirt. My ass goes up, the metal thong riding so deep between the cheeks it feels like being split. The position, face down, ass up, would be humiliating if I weren't dying. Black flowers bloom across my vision. My mouth opens and closes like a landed fish. The weight on my chest makes it worse. Can't expand my lungs even if air could enter. Then, just as darkness creeps in from the edges, the collar loosens. A thread of air. Then more. I gasp, cough, retch all at once. Spit and snot string from my face to the ground. "See?" Snib's already climbing onto my back while I'm still choking on air. "Could've just said yes. I just want a ride." (hidden_gem:"His weight settles between my shoulder blades like a sack of wet grain.","His weight worms between my wilting shoulder blades like waterlogged, wriggling grain.") I try to buck him off but my arms are jelly. His legs wrap around my ribs, heels digging into the soft flesh of my sides just below these obscene sacks of meat. His hands find my hair, gathering it like reins. "Now then." He shifts, getting comfortable. My spine screams from the awkward angle. "Let's try again. Crawl." "Get... off..." He yanks my hair. Hard. My head snaps back, neck arching painfully. From this angle I can see the canopy above, the late afternoon sun filtering through pine needles. "I said CRAWL." The collar pulses. A warning. My arms shake as I push up. The movement makes everything swing. These massive bags of flesh hanging from my chest have their own momentum, pulling me forward then back as they find their pendulum rhythm. Each motion tugs at muscles that weren't designed for this weight. "There we go!" Snib sounds delighted. "Now forward. Into the woods." I take one "step" forward. Hand, then knee. The metal boots scrape and catch on everything. That's when I notice they've changed. The metal extends higher now, past my knees, articulated to bend the right way. Padded on the inside where my shins press the ground. They're made for this. Made for crawling. "Good pony!" He steers me with my hair toward a barely-visible trail between the pines. Goblin tracks. I recognize the gait pattern from years of hunting them. "Follow me mates' trail. They came through here to get to the mine." Each crawl forward is its own humiliation. The tits swing in figure-eights, colliding with my arms, nipples dragging through dirt and pine needles when I lean too low. The metal triangles might as well not exist for all they cover. My ass is so high that the thong has vanished entirely between the cheeks, leaving them completely bare to the cooling air. "Ye know what the collar told me?" Snib chatters as he rides me like I'm a fucking mule. "Says yer name's not Aldric anymore."(playwhenread:"yer names elise") My hands clench in the dirt. "Says yer Elise now." He tests it out, rolling it around his mouth like wine. "Eeeee-lise. El-EESE. Elise the pony. Elise the cow. Elise the three-holes." Each variation of my name, NOT MY NAME, sends fresh rage through me. But rage is useless when you're on all fours with a goblin's weight on your back. "Collar knows everything about ye, El-eese." He pronounces it different each time, like he's savoring the destruction of my identity. "Knows about yer wife. Pretty thing, brown hair? Elara?" I stop crawling. My whole body goes rigid. "It's fucking RED." "Keep moving." Yank on my hair.(playwhenread:"horsey") My knees are already raw through the metal padding. Whisperwind drags behind us from a strap on the collar, my legendary blade scarring the earth like a child's toy. "Knows how ye were tryin' to make babies with her." He's getting excited. I can feel his weight shifting, something hardening against my back through his loincloth. "Bet she's wondering where her big strong hero went." Tears blur my vision from pure, distilled humiliation. The great Aldric, crawling through the forest with tits swinging like cow udders. That's when he shifts again. Reaches back. I hear rustling. Then weight on my ass. He's put something there. "Me loincloth," he explains. "Balls need air after all that excitement." I don't understand what he means until- Weight. On top of my head.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:300,0.05),(a:800,0.10),(a:1400,0.14),(a:2000,0.14),(a:3000,0.14),(a:4000,0.12)))) Heavy. Warm. Like someone draped a leather-wrapped club across my skull from back to front. It extends from my crown down toward my forehead, thick as my wrist, thicker maybe. The shape of it through my hair... No. His balls settle against the nape of my neck. I can FEEL them through my hair. Heavy as ripe plums, fever-hot, shifting with each breath he takes. The skin textured with coarse hair that scratches. They're... they're massive. How does something his size have...(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",2400,"forever",true)) "Keep crawling, Elise." (pic:"ch02/bad end/ride.jpg","His balls. His fucking balls are resting on my neck.") The thing on my head shifts. Flexes. Like a snake stirring. "Just airin' out," he says conversationally. "Gets sweaty under that loincloth. Yer hair's nice and cool." A sound comes out of me that I've never made in any body. High, broken, wet. It keeps coming. "Aww, ye cryin' already? We're just gettin' started!" He yanks my hair to steer me around a fallen log. The motion makes his equipment slide forward. The weight redistributes, the tip now hanging over my forehead. I can feel it pulsing with his heartbeat. Each throb makes it twitch against my skull.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.14),(a:800,0.17),(a:1600,0.14),(a:2400,0.18),(a:3200,0.14),(a:4000,0.19),(a:4800,0.14)))) "Ye know what's funny?" He's getting more excited. The thing on my head is definitely swelling, extending. "That fancy armor ye got? Made for crawlin'. Boots shaped for it and everything. Like the collar knew ye'd end up on all fours." My hair frames my face like a funeral shroud. Through the black strands I can see my tits swinging below, hypnotic in their motion. Left-forward-down-back-right. Right-forward-down-back-left. Pine needles stick to the sweaty flesh. "Smell that?" He takes a deep breath. "That's you. Smell like... like flowers and pussy and somethin' else. Sweet-like." He leans forward, pressing his chest against my back, and SNIFFS my hair. Long and loud, like sampling wine. "Mmmmm. No wonder the collar picked ye. Smell like ye were made for-" The thing on my head throbs. Extends another inch. The tip is past my forehead now, its shadow visible in my peripheral vision.] "Pretty sunset," Snib observes. "Gonna be dark soon. Hope ye can crawl blind." That's when I feel it. The first string. Something warm and thick touches my forehead: a strand.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:400,0.10),(a:800,0.13),(a:1200,0.15),(a:1600,0.13),(a:2000,0.16),(a:2400,0.14),(a:2800,0.17),(a:3200,0.15),(a:3600,0.18),(a:4000,0.15)))) It dangles from the tip of that monster resting on my head, swaying with each crawl forward. I cross my eyes trying to see it and catch a glimpse-cloudy white, thick as honey, stretching down, and down. It touches the bridge of my nose. The strand swings like a grotesque pendulum between my eyes. Left with each right-hand-forward. Right with each left-knee. The smell of it, concentrated rot mixed with something chemical, makes my nostrils burn. It's so thick it doesn't break, just stretches longer, another inch of vile fluid descending from whatever hellish gland produces this filth. "Hehe," Snib giggles, feeling his cock twitch again. "Look at that. Ye got a little decoration." (simple_option:"02 forest crawl","Try to shake it off!")(set:$name to "Elise")

(set:$map_position to (a: 772,2341))(map: (a: 348, 2232),(a:506,2337),(a: 772,2341)) ($play:"song","ridden music")($play:"sex loop","horsey")($play:"ambience","everbloom river ambience")The strand swings between my eyes with each crawl forward. Left. Right. Left. The weight of it. How can something so thin have weight? But it does, pulling at the tip of his cock where it rests on my skull like a grotesque crown. I know about goblin pheromones. Every soldier does. The warnings whispered in barracks about captured women found in warrens, their minds gone, begging for more goblin seed. "Don't let them get their filth on you," the veterans would say. "Once it's in you, you're done." A *rope* of goblin precum dangles inches from my mouth. (hidden_gem:"I try to blow it away but my breath just makes it swing wider.","I blow breathlessly but my breath barely budges it, just broadens its swing.") The heat of his cock on my head increases. I feel it extending, sliding forward through my hair. The weight shifts from the crown of my skull toward my forehead. Another flex. I feel the veins pulse against my scalp, and the strand gets thicker. No longer thread-thin, now rope-thick, cloudy white with yellow streaks. "Down the hill now," Snib says lazily, steering me with my hair. "Watch yer footin'." The slope makes everything worse. My tits swing forward with gravity, pulling my shoulders down until my neck screams. The weight of them stretches the metal triangles until I hear tiny pings of stressed metal. Snib has to lean back to compensate, which presses his balls harder against my neck. They're so hot they feel like they're burning my skin. And the weight, like two stones in a leather pouch, grinds against my vertebrae. His hips start moving. Small circles. Just enjoying the ride. "Dame Jiggles," he muses. "Nah. Lady Sway-a-lot. Better." Another hip circle. His cock slides further forward. "Or maybe just Elise the Glazed." I don't understand until another drop falls. This one lands on my forehead, immediately running down toward my nose. It's thick as porridge, warm as fresh milk. The smell. Eon's mercy, the smell. Like cheese left in the sun mixed with something fungal, something wrong. "Please-" The word comes out as a whimper. "Please stop-" "Stop what?" He sounds genuinely curious. "Can't help it if ye make me cock happy. All that crawlin' and swayin'. That's on you." I try to shake my head, to fling the strand away. It stretches but doesn't break, just swings wider, slapping against my cheeks before returning to center. The motion makes his cock flex again, a strong pulse that sends another glob sliding down the strand. It descends slowly, thickening the rope until it's heavy enough that I feel it pulling at my nose. The strand finally breaks. Not cleanly, but in a stringy mess that drapes across the bridge of my nose. Some lands on my upper lip. The stench is immediate, overwhelming. I stop crawling, reach up to wipe it away- "Did I say stop?" His voice turns sharp. "Bad pony stops without permission." "There's-you're LEAKING on me-" (pic:"ch02/bad end/dangle.jpg") "That's yer fault for being so bouncy." He laughs, grinding his balls against my neck. "This is yer medicine for yellin' earlier. Heroes need to learn their place."(playwhenread:"yer fault for yellin earlier") I try to wipe it with the back of my hand but I'm shaking, exhausted, and I just smear it across my face. Some gets on my fingers. The consistency is vile-sticky and thick, with occasional chunks that might be clotted sperm. The smell coats the inside of my nostrils. "Keep goin'. Sun's almost down." I crawl forward. Down the hill, through the thick pine needles. My tits drag through everything-dirt, leaves, thorns. The metal triangles are so stressed they've shifted, and my nipples are exposed, scraping against debris. Every few feet, Snib's cock flexes and more precum drools down. It's getting worse. What started as drops is now a steady leak. "Sir Swings-a-lot," he giggles, watching my tits. "Knight of the Sloppy Teats. Champion of Crawlin'."(playwhenread:"sir swings a lot") I'm sobbing now as I crawl through the forest with a goblin's cock draped over my head like a hat, his precum running down my face. This morning I was inside my wife. This morning I was Aldric the Great. Now I'm- The purple head of his cock slides into my peripheral vision. (pic:"ch02/bad end/hopeless.jpg","left")It's grown so much it now extends past my hairline, the swollen head visible above my eyes when I look up. Purple-black like a bruised plum, with the hole at the tip constantly weeping. I watch in horror as it flexes and a thick rope of precum spurts out, arcing down to splatter across my nose and cheek.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:80,0.18),(a:200,0.12),(a:400,0.08),(a:600,0.04),(a:800,0)))) "STOP!" I shriek, stopping again. "Please, just-" I reach up to wipe it away, desperate to get it off, but my hand is shaking and I'm panting and- I inhale at the wrong moment. The precum goes straight up my nostril, a thick, chunky rope of it. It BURNS, like inhaling liquid fire.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:150,0.28),(a:400,0.32),(a:700,0.38),(a:1000,0.42),(a:1400,0.38),(a:1800,0.30),(a:2200,0.22),(a:2800,0.16),(a:3500,0.10),(a:4500,0.06),(a:6000,0)))) I snort, trying to expel it, but that just pulls it deeper. The burn spreads through my sinuses, behind my eyes, into my brain- (change_stat:"heroism",-10)Everything smells like goblin semen now. The forest. The dirt. My own sweat. It all reeks of that concentrated musk. My vision shimmers at the edges like heat mirages. I shake my head, trying to clear it, but that just makes his cock bounce and leak more. "Hehe, snorted it did ye?" Snib sounds delighted. "That'll teach ye." (pic:"ch02/stream.jpg","The Pitchwater River, black with pine tannins.") We finally reach water. The Pitchwater River, black with pine tannins. I'm beyond exhausted. My arms shake uncontrollably. My knees are bloody even through the padding. My tits are covered in dirt and scratches. Goblin precum is drying on my face in crusty yellowed streaks. "Please," I gasp. "Please, I need to rest. Please-" "Yeah, alright. Good spot for the night." He stretches on my back, his cock sliding back slightly but still very much present. "Get us set up then." He climbs off, finally, FINALLY, and I collapse immediately. My arms give out and I face-plant into the pine needles, ass in the air, too exhausted to care about the position. Everything hurts. Everything stinks of his precum. I can still feel the phantom weight of his balls on my neck. "Up up!" He kicks my ass lightly. "Horses don't just lay down. Go drink first. Horsey needs water." I try to stand. The boots won't let me. The metal is locked at that extreme angle, forcing me to stay on all fours. He's standing there naked, his massive cock still semi-hard, swinging between his legs as he laughs. "Crawl to the water then, Sir Swings-a-lot. Lap it up like the animal ye are." The humiliation burns but I'm so thirsty. I crawl to the river's edge on trembling limbs, lower my head to the black water. Have to lap at it like a dog, my tits dragging in the mud. The water tastes of pine and earth but it's cold, clean- I hear splashing. Look up. Snib is standing upstream, maybe twenty feet away. Pissing into the river. His stream arcs through the air, thick as my thumb, splashing into the water that's flowing directly toward me. He's grinning, making eye contact as he does it. I pull back, sputtering, wiping my mouth. He laughs so hard he nearly falls over. "Should've seen yer face!" He shakes the last drops off, his cock bouncing. "Now. Shelter. Chop chop." "Let me stand. Please. I need to stand to-" He considers, scratching his balls. "Yeah, alright. Stand." The boots unlock with an audible CLICK. I push myself up on shaking legs, having to lean against a tree. Everything spins. The smell of his precum is still coating my sinuses, making me lightheaded. My tits feel like they weigh fifty pounds each, pulling at my shoulders. He tosses me Whisperwind. "Make us something nice. Heroes know how to make camp, yeah?" I catch my sword. In his hands all day, defiled. And I sob. (simple_option:"02 build shelter","Go to work.")

(set:$map_position to (a: 1518,2288))(map:) ($play:"song",0)($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","night prayer")($play:"ambience","everbloom night ambience")I cut branches. Lean them against a fallen log. Cover with pine boughs. The kind of shelter I've made a hundred times, but never like this. (pic:"ch02/bad end/stream night.jpg","Just the moon through pine branches and the sound of the Pitchwater running black and cold.") The forest is dark now. Just the moon through pine branches and the sound of the Pitchwater running black and cold. I've built my own small shelter twenty feet from his-as far as the leash allows. Just branches and pine boughs, but it's mine. Snib is already asleep in his, snoring wetly. Using his own filthy loincloth as a pillow. His cock draped over his thigh like a sleeping snake, still semi-hard, occasionally twitching in his dreams. Completely relaxed. Completely unafraid. Of me. Of Aldric the Great. (hidden_gem:"The hero who made goblins check under their beds is now nothing to fear.","The hero who had whole hordes hiding under beds is now nothing he needs to fear.") And the cruelest cut: he sleeps without guard because I am no longer worth guarding against. If I tried to smother him with pine boughs, the collar would strangle me first. If I tried to run, it would probably just kill me. I'm trapped more thoroughly than any prison cell. I sob. The sound is high, broken, nothing like my voice should be. These tits heave with each breath, the metal triangles cutting into flesh that's already raw from a day of crawling. My knees are scabbed through the padding. My palms are blistered. My shoulders have carved grooves where the breast-weight hangs from the same two tendons all day. Muscles a man's body doesn't even HAVE are screaming in this one. But the worst is the smell that won't leave. It's coating the inside of my nose like oil. That rope of precum I snorted-it burns still, hours later. The scent is complex in the worst way: rotted fish guts mixed with cheese rind, undercut with something chemical like the tanner's vats, but also something alive, something fertile. It makes my stomach turn. But also something else. Something I refuse to acknowledge. Every breath I take carries that reek into my lungs, like I'm breathing him, breathing his essence. (pic:"ch02/bad end/shelters.jpg") And under that, almost worse-my own scent. I smell nothing like Aldric anymore. The river water revealed it when I washed. My sweat smells like honey mixed with flowers I can't name. My hair, even wet, carries lavender and something darker. My skin itself seems to emit this perfume. Cloying, feminine, designed to appeal. When the wind shifts, I catch it full force and want to gag. (playwhenread:"keeper of what was")I kneel by the tallest pine tree hands clasped, and try to pray. (pic:"ch02/bad end/pray 1.jpg","right")"Eon, Keeper of What Was," my voice cracks, these musical tones nothing like the gravel I used to pray with, "remember Aldric. His strength, his sword, his service. The man who saved Eboncrest. The husband who loved Elara with everything he had. You have to remember because this body is making me forget. Keep me in your ledgers. Keep me real. Don't let me dissolve into this." The wind through pines is my only answer. "Flux, Turner of All Things," tears stream down this soft face, "you who dance in change-change me BACK. This isn't transformation, it's desecration. This isn't your dance, it's rape. I'll give anything-my magic, my reputation, years of my life. Just turn the wheel backward. Just this once. I know you flow forward but please, PLEASE, make an exception. Let me hold Elara with my own hands again. Let me stand to piss. Let me exist without these things hanging from my chest. Please." Nothing. Just Snib's snoring. "Verge, Keeper of the Threshold," I'm sobbing harder now, "I stand at your door. I'm at the precipice of something terrible. Show me through. Show me the path that leads home. Open a door that doesn't lead to degradation. I'm at the edge of becoming something else, something horrible, and I need your guidance. Don't let me cross into what he wants me to be. Keep me on this side of humanity. Please. PLEASE." The forest swallows my third prayer. (pic:"ch02/bad end/pray 2.jpg","left")"Please..." I whisper to nothing. "I saved cities. I killed monsters. I was...I was good. Wasn't I good? Why would you let this happen? Why would you make me..." My hands move to these breasts without thinking, holding their weight to relieve my shoulders. The flesh is soft, warm, yielding. Real. Too real. The metal triangles barely cover my nipples, which have hardened in the cold night air into peaks that scrape against the scales with each breath. Everything about this body is hypersensitive, responsive in ways that horrify me. "Is this punishment?" I ask the stars. "For the goblins I killed? They were monsters! They raid, they rape, they-" The irony chokes me. Here I am, owned by one. Ridden like a horse by one. The gods don't answer. They never do, but tonight their silence feels personal. Elara. Oh, Elara. What did she do today? Did she cook dinner for two, waiting for me? Is she in our bed now, wondering why it's cold? Does she think I'm dead? That might be better. Cleaner than the truth. "Your husband got turned into a goblin's pet with tits like ripe melons" isn't something she should ever have to hear. I try to find a position to sleep. Everything hurts. Lying on my back makes the metal triangles dig deeper and these weights pull sideways into my armpits. On my side, the bottom tit goes numb while the top one flops over, the nipple touching the ground through gaps in the pine boughs. On my stomach is impossible-they're too big, pushing me up like I'm lying on grain sacks. The metal armor is cutting into me everywhere. The triangles leave red crescents in breast flesh. The thong between my legs has rubbed me raw from all that crawling. The collar is constant cold pressure. But taking it off... Can I even? Will it let me? I reach for the clasp of the top and find nothing. No clasp. The metal seems fused. But when I think about removing it-really think-I feel it loosen slightly. It wants me to choose. The armor wants me to CHOOSE to be naked. (simple_option:"02 sleep choice","Remove the armor.","Keep it on.")

($play:"song","night prayer")($play:"ambience","everbloom night ambience")(if:$choice is "Remove the armor.")[(pic:"ch02/bad end/remove bra.jpg") The metal triangles fall away with a soft *clink*. (change_stat:"heroism",-2)(hidden_gem:"My breasts drop free with a weight that makes me gasp.","My breasts break free with a bouncing weight that brings a gasp.") They're heavier. Without even the minimal support of those triangles, they hang like overripe melons from my chest, pulling at skin that's never carried such weight. The aureolae are huge, wide as my palm, dusky pink circles that darken toward the centers where my nipples sit like nail-heads. The cold air makes them tighten further, puckering into peaks that ache with sensitivity. (pic:"ch02/bad end/pussy.jpg","right","I look down for the first time. Really look.")(playwhenread:"jingle")My hands shake as I reach for the lower clasps. The metal thong peels away from my hips with a wet sound. I've been sweating there too, the metal trap creating its own humid climate. But when I pull it from between my legs... Strings. Clear, viscous strings stretch from the metal to my-to what's between my legs. They catch moonlight like spider silk, refusing to break, stretching longer until finally snapping back. I look down for the first time. Really look. Eon's mercy. The lips are plump, swollen-looking even though nothing's touched them. They glisten in the moonlight, coated with moisture that has nothing to do with sweat. The whole area is flushed pink, almost fever-hot, and as I watch, as I fucking WATCH, a bead of clear fluid wells up and drips onto my thigh. My pussy. I have a pussy. And it's... Soaking. The insides of my thighs are glazed with it, making them slip against each other. The scent hits me. Salt-sweet ocean tang mixed with something fertile, something female. My body's been producing this all day, this shame-syrup, this traitor's nectar. Getting wet from being spanked, from being ridden, from having goblin cock on my head. "No," I whisper, but my fingers move without permission, needing to understand this violation. The flesh is soft, yielding, frighteningly sensitive. Just the brush of my fingertip makes something inside clench, a hollow ache I've never felt before.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:100,0.08),(a:250,0.20),(a:400,0.28),(a:550,0.22),(a:750,0.15),(a:1000,0.10),(a:1300,0.06),(a:1700,0.03),(a:2200,0)))) When I pull my finger away, it's coated with clear fluid that strings between my fingers. I'm aroused. This body is aroused. By HIM. The armor lies in the pine needles-black scales gleaming with moisture from my body. My sweat. My... other fluids. It looks almost alive in the moonlight, waiting to crawl back onto me tomorrow. I curl into the smallest ball I can, but there's no escaping this body. My tits are so large I have to hold them against my chest or they pull painfully to the side. My ass is so plump that lying on my side makes one cheek go numb while the other spreads out behind me. The space between my legs throbs with each heartbeat, empty and aching in a way that makes me want to scream. Everything smells like sex. My pussy leaking its shame. My sweat carrying that honeyed perfume. Snib's precum still coating my sinuses. I'm drowning in the scent of fucking without having fucked. Sleep is impossible. Every position hurts. Every breath makes my nipples scrape against pine needles. Every shift makes me aware of the wetness between my legs that won't stop, won't dry, just keeps weeping like my body is crying for something I refuse to give it. Elara. I think of Elara and sob, my tears mixing with all the other fluids this body won't stop producing. (simple_option:"02 dream","Tomorrow will be worse.")](else:)[Taking it off feels like surrender. Like admitting this is my body now, that I need to get *comfortable* in it. The metal might be cutting into me, but at least it's something between my skin and the world. Some pathetic shred of armor that says I'm still a warrior, not just meat. I curl on my side in the pine needles. The metal triangle digs deeper into my left breast, the flesh bulging around it. The thong has ridden so far up between my ass cheeks it feels like it's splitting me in half. My pussy-that wet, traitorous thing-pushes against the metal, and I can feel moisture seeping around the edges. (pic:"ch02/bad end/sleep in armor.jpg") (hidden_gem:"Every position is its own specific torture.","Every position presents its own particular, personalized torture.") On my back: the triangles cut into the sides of my breasts while the weight pulls them toward my armpits. The collar digs into my spine. On my stomach: impossible, these things are too large, I'd suffocate. Other side: the bottom breast goes numb immediately while the top one flops over, pulling at my ribs. I settle for a half-curl, one arm under my head, the other holding these weights against my chest so they don't pull so much. The metal is cold against my skin, warming slowly from my body heat. My own heat. My pussy won't stop leaking around the thong's edges, making sounds when I shift. At least he can't see me naked. At least there's that. (simple_option:"02 dream","Your eyes finally close from exhaustion.")]

($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","nightmare")(if:$choice is "Your eyes finally close from exhaustion.")[*I'm running through something warm and wet. A cavern? No, softer. Pink walls that pulse with heartbeat. My heartbeat? The fog is thick, salty-sweet, coating my throat with each breath.* *Behind me, I hear them. Chittering. Millions of tiny voices speaking Goblish in unison. I look back and see them. Not goblins. Pieces of goblins. Tadpoles with goblin faces. Sperm with yellow eyes and tiny green arms, swimming through the pink air, their tails whipping frantically as they chase me.* *"Gonna get in," they chitter in Snib's voice. "Gonna get deep inside."* *I run but the passage narrows. The pink walls close in, slick with mucus that smells like-like HIS precum. I slip, fall, and they're on me. Tiny hands grabbing my hair, my face. One finds my nostril, the one that snorted his precum, and starts pushing inside.* *"This is the way in," it squeaks. "The hero's brain-pussy."* *More follow. They're swimming up my nose, through my sinuses. I feel them behind my eyes, wriggling. The pink cavern isn't a cavern. It's the inside of my own skull. They're inside my brain, swimming through the folds, looking for something.* *"Where's the egg?" they chitter. "Where's the thought-egg to make babies with?"* *I try to scream but my mouth opens and more pour in. Thousands of them, each one a tiny piece of Snib, flooding my brain-womb. They're looking for the part of me that's still Aldric, to fertilize it, to change it.* *One of them finds something deep in my brain. A glowing memory of Elara. It starts humping it, its tiny green body thrusting. The memory changes, corrupts. Now Elara has yellow eyes. Now she's begging for goblin cock.* *"NO!" I scream, but it comes out as a moan.* (pic:"ch02/bad end/dream sperm.jpg","right","More memories. They're fucking all my memories.")*More memories. They're fucking all my memories. My first sword lesson, now I'm learning to suck cock. My wedding night, now Snib is the groom. Each thrust rewrites something, plants something wrong.* *The chittering gets louder. "Pregnant! Brain-pregnant! Thought-babies!"* *My skull is swelling. I can feel it expanding as they plant their seed in every neuron. My thoughts are getting fat, gravid with wrongness. Something's going to birth from my head, something terrible-* I wake screaming. A woman's shriek sends night birds scattering. I'm drenched in sweat that reeks of fear and that honeyed perfume. The metal thong is soaked through. My pussy actually *aches* like something was trying to get in. Snib snores on, undisturbed. My head pounds. Behind my eyes where the dream-sperm swam. The smell of his precum is stronger now, like it's seeping deeper into my sinuses, into my brain tissue itself. When I blink, I swear I see pink at the edges of my vision. Just a dream. Just a dream. But my thoughts feel violated. Like something crawled through them leaving slime trails. Dawn bleeds through the pines like a wound. Real dawn, not dream light. The Pitchwater runs black as ever, its tannin-dark waters catching the first rays. Morning birds call in the Everbloom: thrushes, jays, the distant cry of a wood-hawk. Normal sounds that feel obscene after what my sleeping mind conjured. Snib stretches outside his shelter, his morning wood pointing at the sky like a purple accusation. He's still naked, balls hanging heavy between his legs. "Sleep well, cow-tits?" He grins, then looks me over. "Heh. Kept the metal on? Like a turtle scared to leave its shell." The armor has left its mark. Red crescents where the triangles bit into breast-flesh all night. The thong has carved a valley between my ass cheeks that throbs with each movement. But when I look down, expecting blood, expecting real damage, the marks are already fading. The skin pink but unbroken. Like this body heals faster than it should. "Modest little thing now, ain't ye?" He scratches his balls, the sound wet and specific. "Big hero sleepin' in her armor like a virgin at market." I try to stand. Everything aches. Deeper than the clean ache of training. My spine feels compressed from holding those weights all night. The metal boots still force me on my toes, calves cramping immediately.(simple_option:"02 wake up","Ask to take the boots off.")](else:)[(playwhenread:"elara fuck 1")(if:(get_choice:"01 Comfort","Take her roughly!"))[Elara's on all fours on our marriage bed, auburn hair gripped in a green fist. Her nightgown, the white one with little flowers she wore this morning, is bunched around her waist. That perfect peach ass I spanked hours ago is presented, but not to me. Snib. Three and a half feet of warty green spite, mounting my wife like she's livestock. "Think yer in charge?" His voice mimics mine from this morning, but wet, chittering. "Think yer husband's comin' back?" I try to move but I'm chained to a post by the collar, forced to watch. Close enough to see everything. The way her flesh jiggles when he spanks her. The way his cock, that purple monster, stretches her pussy lips obscenely wide. "Someone's feeling brave this-AHHH!" **CRACK.** His palm meets her ass harder than I ever dared. (pic:"ch02/bad end/dream rough.jpg") "That's 'Master' when I got ye bent over." Another spank. Her flesh ripples, turns angry red under green fingers. "Or would ye prefer the whole street knows what we're doin'?" "They already-oh GODS!" He grabs her hair harder, yanks her head back at an angle that makes her spine arch. His cock. It's TOO BIG, splitting her open, her pussy lips stretched white around the purple shaft as thick as her forearm. One thrust and he's buried to the hilt. The wet SQUELCH echoes off our bedroom walls. She SCREAMS. Not the playful shriek from this morning. Something primal, broken. "Aldric! ALDRIC HELP ME!" But I can't move. Can't speak. Just watch. "Yer hero's dead," Snib grunts, starting to thrust. "Just me fat gobbo cock now." The bed frame BREAKS. Wood splinters as he pounds into her with inhuman force. Each thrust drives so deep I can see her belly bulge. **PLAP PLAP PLAP**, but wet, meaty, wrong.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.14,"peakTo",0.22,"baseFrom",0.03,"baseTo",0.03,"intervalFrom",600,"intervalTo",440,"attackMs",50,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.20)) His massive balls, hairy and heavy as melons, swing forward to slap against her clit with each stroke. (hidden_gem:"She cries and cums, catastrophically conquered, continuously climaxing.","She shrieks and spasms, savagely stretched, ceaselessly cumming, catastrophically conquered.") "You're going to-*FUCK*-you're DESTROYING me!" "Ye can take it," He pulls her hair tighter, forces her back to arch more. The new angle makes her howl. "Taken worse from gobbo cock before. All human cunts do." She's trying to crawl away but he's got her pinned, his weight somehow immense despite his size. Her nightgown tears. Her breasts swing free, but they're wrong, they're growing, swelling with each thrust like his cock is inflating them. "Please! I'm-I'm cumming! I can't stop CUMMING!" "Already? We just started." His finger finds her asshole, pushes in roughly. "Come on then. Cum on yer Master's cock like a good little broodmare." **SPANK!** "I'll-*ah*-I'm sorry Aldric-I can't-it's too BIG!" "If ye can still talk, I ain't doin' me job." She's cumming. Constantly. A rolling wave of orgasms that makes her whole body convulse. Clear fluid gushes from where they're joined, soaking our marriage bed. The wet sounds get louder, obscene, her pussy churning like butter around his massive shaft. "That's seven," he growls. "Want to go for twenty before I breed ye?" "You cocky-oh FUCK! YES! MORE!" The words hit like physical blows. She's starting to push back. Meeting his thrusts. "Listen to that," Snib grunts, his cock making obscene sucking sounds as her pussy grips it. "That's the sound of a properly fucked wife. Not like yer husband's little prick." "Going to-ngh-forget he ever-ever touched me!" "Then ye'll remember this while he rots." He leans down, bites her shoulder hard enough to draw blood. "Remember who owns this cunt now." She cums again, harder, her tits slapping together as she thrashes. Then again. And again. A rolling wave of orgasms that I could never give her. "Please!" she sobs. "Please breed me! Give me goblin babies!" "Bout to," he grunts, his thrusts getting erratic. His massive balls draw up tight. "Gonna pump ye so full-" "No," I try to scream. "NO, ELARA, REMEMBER-"](else:)[Our bedroom. Morning light through familiar windows. But everything's wrong.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.05,"periodMs",4000,"forever",true)) Elara's straddling someone on our marriage bed. She's naked, glowing with sweat, moving with that same steady rhythm she used this morning. But beneath her... Snib. His massive cock disappearing into her again and again. (pic:"ch02/bad end/dream gentle 1.jpg") "There's my hero," she sighs, running her fingers through his patchy scalp. "My REAL hero." I'm chained to a post by the collar, forced to watch. Close enough to see the way her pussy lips grip his shaft, how they stretch obscenely around his girth, how wet she is, wetter than she's ever been with me. "So perfect," Snib murmurs against her collarbone, his warty hands exploring her body with disturbing tenderness. "Every freckle. Every curve. Made for gobbo cock." Morning light paints their joined bodies gold and green. He runs his clawed fingers up her thighs with reverence, like she's something holy he's defiling. "You're finally the right size," she breathes, rocking against him. "Not like my husband's little-mmmmm-" "His IS in the way now," Snib agrees, then sits up, bringing her with him so she's fully impaled. "Dead heroes can't touch ye anymore." She laughs, that bright sound I love, while grinding on monster cock. "Was just thinking of you. Even when he was inside me this morning." "What?" The word tears from my throat but they don't hear. She rises up slowly, so slowly, his purple shaft glistening with her arousal. The veins on it pulse visibly, each ridge catching on her pussy lips as she moves. (pic:"ch02/bad end/dream gentle 2.jpg") "Just remembering why I chose you," she tells him, looking into yellow eyes with adoration. "My sparklin' personality?" "Your perfect cock." She sinks down in one smooth motion, taking all twelve inches. They both groan-her with satisfaction, him with possession. She starts to ride him with that same devastating rhythm, but now her face shows true pleasure, not the performance she gave me.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.12,"amplitude",0.07,"periodMs",2800,"forever",true)) (hidden_gem:"Her passion peaks perpetually, pussy pulsing around putrid purple pole.","Her passion peaks and persists, pussy perpetually pulsing, greedily gripping that putrid purple pole.") "Every morning," she breathes. "Every morning I'll wake up to this instead of his fumbling." "Every morning IS a gift with ye," he replies, watching her breasts bounce. She's so WET. I can hear it-the obscene squelching as she rides him, the splash of fluids. Her pussy is creaming around his cock, white foam building where they join. His massive balls, heavy and hairy, rest on our marriage bed like overripe fruit. "Touch me," she whispers to him. His thumb finds her clit with surprising gentleness. His other hand cups her breast, rolls the nipple just how she likes. She gasps with genuine pleasure, not the sounds she made for me. "That's it, love. Let go for yer true mate." "Not yet-want to-oh gods-want to feel you claim me properly-" "We got forever now." He sits up straighter, changing the angle. Now they're kissing. Deep, passionate, her tongue exploring his diseased mouth eagerly. She moans into the kiss as he swallows her pleasure. She cums. Not the controlled shudder from this morning. Something wild, primal. Her whole body convulses around him, pussy clenching visibly around his shaft. He holds her through it, kisses her temple with mock tenderness. "Well done, me perfect girl." She's still shaking when she starts moving again, oversensitive but desperate. "Your turn. Want to feel it. Want your seed instead of his weak dribbles." "Elara, you loved me-" I sob, but I'm invisible. "Shh." She pushes him back down, pins his shoulders. "My REAL hero needs his reward." She leans down, changes the angle. Now her breasts press against his warty chest, her lips against his pointed ear. "I want you to cum inside me, Master. Want to feel goblin seed replace his. Want to carry your babies, only yours, forever." "Elara-" "Maybe this time," she whispers to him lovingly. "Maybe this time I'll give you triplets." The tenderness in her voice, the same tone she used with me, breaks something inside me. Snib rolls them over, needs to be deeper. She wraps her legs around his small body, pulls him close, and they move together like they've been lovers for years. His thrusts are slow but impossibly deep. Each one makes her whole body shudder. She's cumming again-or still-a constant rolling orgasm that has her speaking in tongues. "Yes," she breathes. "Ephemerals, you fill me so much better than-than-who was I married to?" Her nails rake down his back with genuine passion. Sweat makes their bodies slide together. The wet music of their joining fills our bedroom, the place where we made love this morning now defiled forever. "Close," he warns. "Me too! Again! How do you always-oh!" She arches above him, a perfect bow of pleasure, and I can see his massive balls drawing up tight-] I wake screaming. Actually screaming, high and feminine, my throat raw. I'm covered in cold sweat that makes these tits slide against each other. My pussy- No. NO. It's soaking. Drenched. I can feel it pulsing, clenching around nothing, exactly like Elara did in the dream when she...(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:600,0.10),(a:1200,0.18),(a:1800,0.08),(a:2400,0.14),(a:3000,0.06),(a:3600,0.10),(a:4200,0.04),(a:4800,0.06),(a:5400,0.02),(a:6000,0)))) The shame crashes over me so hard I vomit. Just bile and spit, but I retch into the pine needles while my cunt drools onto my thighs. Dawn is breaking through the trees. Real dawn, not dream light. Snib is stretching outside his shelter, his morning wood tenting upward, casual as anything. "Sleep well, cow-tits?" He grins, scratching his balls. (simple_option:"02 wake up","You're naked!")]

(pic:"ch02/bad end/shelters morning.jpg") ($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","everbloom river ambience")(if:$choice is "You're naked!")[The realization hits like ice water as his yellow eyes travel down my body with the slow appreciation of a merchant evaluating goods. From my sweat-damp hair to my bare feet, taking special time at the places that matter: the heavy swing of exposed breasts, the wet gleam between my thighs. (hidden_gem:"My hands move to cover myself but there's too much flesh to hide.","My hands hurry to hide myself but there's too much hanging, heaving flesh to conceal.") One arm crosses over my chest, trying to contain tits that overflow around it. The other hand drops to cover my pussy, fingers immediately becoming slick with the moisture there. The position just makes everything worse, pushing my breasts up and together, making me hunch forward in a way that presents my ass. "Hehe. Shy now?" Snib scratches his morning wood through his loincloth, the motion making it bounce. "Bit late for modesty." The armor. Where did I leave it? There, in the pine needles, black scales gleaming with dew. I scramble for it on hands and knees, giving him a full view of everything swinging and jiggling. My fingers shake as I grab the metal triangles. Putting it on is worse than taking it off. The clasps hide beneath breast-flesh, requiring me to lift each tit and fumble blind while Snib provides commentary. "Left one's bigger," he observes. "Didja know that? Left tit's got more heft." The metal is cold and wet with morning dew. When I finally manage to connect the chains behind my back, the triangles immediately dig into tender flesh, barely containing anything. My nipples are still hard from cold and whatever else, pressing visibly through the scales. The bottom piece is worse. I have to step into it, pull it up my thighs that are still slick with shame. The metal thong immediately disappears between my ass cheeks with a wet *squelch*. When I adjust the front triangle over my mound, strings of moisture connect metal to flesh before breaking. "Missed a spot," Snib notes, pointing. A strand of my own wetness hangs from the edge of the metal, catching morning light like spider silk. I wipe it with shaking fingers but that just spreads the moisture. The boots. Flux's balls, the boots. They've definitely changed overnight-now rising to mid-thigh with dozens of buckles and laces. I sit on a log to pull them on, having to point my toes like some Thuulk silkhouse whore to get my feet into the extreme arch. The metal is articulated, form-fitting, molding to my calves as I begin the endless process of lacing. Why didn't I need to do this when I took them off? First the ankle buckles-three of them, each requiring me to lean forward, making my tits pool in my lap. Then the shin laces, crisscrossing up my legs in a pattern that takes forever to figure out. My fingers feel strange, clumsy but also patient? Like I have all the time in the world to dress myself pretty. "Twenty-seven on each boot," Snib counts helpfully. By the time I reach my thighs, I'm panting. Not from exertion but from the process itself. The ritual of it, the way each lace pulled tight makes the metal grip my legs like hands. The final buckles at the top squeeze my thighs, making the flesh bulge slightly over the edges. When I finally stand, the spike heels forcing me into that humiliating posture, Snib nods approval. "Better. Can see everythin' but also nothin'. That's the point of armor like that." "It's not armor," I mutter, but the words come out without heat. "Feelin' generous today," he announces, adjusting his morning wood again. "No crawlin'. We walk like people. Well, I walk. You..." He gestures at my forced mince. "You do whatever that is." Relief floods through me so powerfully I almost say thank you. Almost. I catch myself, but the fact that the words nearly escaped... "Just gotta make it to me hut by dark. Stay off the road, follow the river." He stretches, his cock bouncing obscenely in his loincloth. "Oh, and I'm hungry. You're catchin' breakfast."(playwhenread:"catch fish for breakfast") "I don't know how to fish without-" "Sure ye do. Big hero like you?" He grins. "River's right there. Fish in it. Easy." "Let me use magic. I could freeze them, make it quick-" For a moment his eyes narrow, calculating. I see him consider it, weigh the options. Then he shakes his head. "Nah. Magic's for special occasions. Use a stick or somethin'. Make a spear." "Please." The word slips out easier today. "It would be faster. More efficient. I promise I'll only-" "Said no." But he's still thinking, I can see it. Like he's measuring something about me, testing. "Maybe later. When ye've been good longer." Good. Like I'm a dog learning tricks. "There's some good spots upstream," he continues. "Past where I pissed last night. Should be bitin' this early." I want to argue. Want to refuse. But my stomach growls and there's this strange fog in my head, like thoughts are taking longer to form. The anger is still there but muffled, wrapped in cotton. Must be exhaustion. Must be hunger. "Fine," I hear myself say. "Fish."](else:)[(hidden_gem:"My thoughts feel sluggish, honey-slow, like swimming through warm syrup.","My thoughts feel thick, thrumming through honey-heat, like swimming through summer syrup.") "Please." The word comes out before I mean it to. Softer than yesterday. "Can I... the boots. Can I take them off? Just for-" "Nah." He pisses against a tree, the stream thick and yellow. "But I'm feelin' nice today. No more crawlin'. We walk upright like people. Well, I walk. You mince." The relief that floods through me is too much. Too grateful. Some part of my mind notes this, flags it as wrong, but the thought slips away like oil on water. Everything feels slightly sideways. Like the world tilted three degrees while I slept. "Long way to me hut still," he says, shaking the last drops off. They splatter on pine needles. "Through the Bleakwood, past the Bonebridges. Need strength for walkin'." "Everbloom." "Nah, it's the Bleakwood." He looks at the river, then at me. "Hungry. Want fish."(playwhenread:"catch fish for breakfast") "I don't-" "River's full of 'em. Shadowtrout, the black ones. Sweet meat." He plops down on a rock, cock swaying. "You catch." "With what?" My voice has lost some of its edge. "Find a stick. Sharpen it. Heroes know woodcraft, yeah?" The casual assumption that I'll obey. That I'll just... fish for him. Like a servant. Like a wife. The rage should be volcanic but it comes out tired, worn smooth like river stones. I find myself looking for a suitable branch before I've decided to comply. I'm hungry as well, and that's overriding everything. My hands, these small, soft hands, still remember some things. I find a straight piece of ash, use a river rock to sharpen one end to a point. The work is harder with these weak arms. My breasts keep getting in the way when I lean forward. Sweat runs between them, carrying that honeyed scent that isn't mine. "Wait." The idea surfaces through the fog. "I could... Glacieshold. I could freeze a section of river. The fish would be stunned, easy to-" "No magic." He says it quick. Sharp. "But it would be faster-" "Said no." Something flickers in his yellow eyes. Calculation? Fear? "Not yet. Maybe later. When ye've been good longer." *When I've been good.* The phrase should enrage me. Instead, I just feel disappointed. Like a child denied a treat. What's wrong with my thoughts? They keep sliding sideways, finding the path of least resistance.] (pic:"ch02/bad end/stream sunrise.jpg") (simple_option:"02 fish","Go spear-fishing.")

(pic:"ch02/bad end/spear.jpg","right")($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","everbloom river ambience")I wade into the Pitchwater. The cold makes my nipples harden instantly, visible through the metal triangles. The water is knee-deep here, running fast over smooth stones. Shadowtrout dart in the dark water-long, black fish with silver bellies. (playwhenread:"wading water") Standing still. Waiting. The spear raised. This is meditation, almost. The kind of focus I learned killing time on campaign. But different in this body. My weight distribution is wrong. These hips. These breasts. The current pushes against my thighs and I feel everything shift and sway. "Yer tits are gonna scare the fish," Snib calls from the bank. A flash of silver. I thrust down-too slow. These arms have no strength, no speed. The fish darts away. Again. Wait. Watch. The water is cold enough that my feet go numb. My pussy, that warm, wet traitor, clenches with each shift of current against my thighs. Like it's trying to grip something that isn't there.(playwhenread:"caught fish") Another flash. This time I compensate, lead the target- The spear pierces scales. The fish thrashes, spraying dark water. I lift it, triumphant for a heartbeat before remembering this isn't triumph. This is servitude. "Good cow!" Snib claps like I've performed a trick. "Now three more. Big ones." Three more. He wants three more fish. And I'm going to catch them. Because what else can I do? The collar won't let me hurt him. Won't let me run. So I fish. Like a good- No. I'm buying time. Planning. Waiting for the moment when- I spear another fish before I finish the thought. My hands are already obeying him. The rest of me is catching up.(simple_option:"02 journey","Later...")

(pic:"ch02/lead out.jpg","He's back to using the leash...") ($play:"song","snib hut theme")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")The Pitchwater leads us northwest through the Everbloom's depths. My spike-heels catch on every root, every stone, forcing this obscene hip-sway that makes my ass clap softly with each step. *Click-clop-click-clop* against ancient stones. Snib leads me at his leisure, occasionally correcting my path with a tug on the leash. "So," he says after an hour of silence, "ye know we got our own language, right?" (unlock_lore:"Goblish","other",4)I don't respond. Just focus on not falling. "Bet ye think we just grunt and point." Another tug, steering me around a fallen oak. "But we got words for everything. Specially fuckin'." The casual vulgarity makes my face burn. This morning it would have been rage. Now my hips shift on their own and the metal thong grinds against swollen flesh I'm trying to pretend isn't there. "Forty-three words just for cummin'," he continues, pride creeping into his voice. "Humans got what, two? Three? We got *splurtik* for weak dribbles-insultin', that one. *Grok-splash* for proper breeding shots. *Thrack-gush* for when ye empty everything at once." (hidden_gem:"My mind catalogues this information despite myself.","My mind mysteriously memorizes this morbid information despite myself.") "Why are you telling me this?" The question escapes before I can stop it. "Ye're gonna need to know 'em soon enough." He laughs, that wet chittering. "When yer beggin' in Goblish." (pic:"ch02/swampland.jpg") We cross a shallow ford. The cold water makes my nipples harden instantly, visible through the metal triangles. Snib watches them bounce with each step, then continues his lecture. "*Thrack* is basic fuckin'. Everyone knows that one. Even humans say it now." He sounds genuinely pleased by this linguistic contamination. "But we got specifics. *Skull-thrack* for mouth. *Womb-thrack* for deep breeding. *Rut-thrack* when it's violent." The path narrows. I have to duck under low branches, making my tits swing and collide. Snib finds this hilarious. "See, that's *swing-udder* in Goblish. The way they move. We notice everything about tits. Got twelve words just for different bounces." (set:$map_position to (a: 1944,2583))(map: (a:1518,2288),(a: 1944,2583),(a:2284,2767)) Hours pass like this. Him talking, me walking, trying not to listen. But the words seep in anyway. *Breeding-hole. Cum-tank. Face-cunt.* Each one makes my pussy clench involuntarily, that horrible empty ache getting worse. "Know what's funny?" We're climbing now, the Pitchwater falls growing louder. "Humans think we're stupid 'cause our language got simple. But it got simple 'cause we only talk about what matters. Fuckin' and fightin'. What else is there?" "Love," I say without thinking. "Art. Honor-" "HAH!" He actually falls over laughing, has to use Whisperwind to stand back up. "Honor! From the woman with her tits out! Walkin' on a leash!" The shame burns but there's truth in it. What honor do I have left? Walking through the forest in this obscene armor, my pussy leaving a snail-trail of moisture down my thighs. (pic:"ch02/distant hut.jpg") By afternoon we break from the treeline. The Shifting Sands stretch before us. Endless dunes under a brass sky. "Home sweet home," he says, pointing to a structure that barely deserves the name. The hut leans against a dead tree like a drunk against a wall. Patches of hide and salvaged wood make walls that don't quite meet. The roof is partially collapsed. Through gaps I can see piles of bones, rags, things I don't want to identify. (pic:"ch02/hut.jpg") "Built it meself," he says proudly. "After me tribe kicked me out." Past a cluster of worn stone: an ancient well with a pump half-buried in sand, probably K'Tarran. A goblin could never build anything like that. "'Course, who's laughin' now? Got me own human cow." We stop outside the entrance, just a hide flap that reeks of piss and rot. Snib turns to face me, has to crane his neck to meet my eyes. His expression shifts to something calculating. "Listen good, cow-tits. Here's the thing." He scratches his balls through his loincloth, thinking. "Could just mount ye right now. Collar says ye're mine to use however. Could spend all night pumpin' goblin babies into that wet cunt." My whole body goes rigid. The terror must show on my face because he laughs. "But that's borin'. Too fast. Heroes need to marinate, ye know? Let all them proud thoughts dissolve slow-like." He walks around me, appraising. I feel his gaze on my ass, my tits, the wet spot on the metal triangle between my legs. "So here's me generous offer." He stops in front of me again. "Ye do chores-cleanin', cookin', whatever. And ye drain me balls each mornin'. Just with yer mouth." (hidden_gem:"The words sink through me like stones through still water, settling in depths I cannot reach to retrieve them.","The words wash like winter water through my weakening veins.") "Just suckin'," he continues, seeing my horror. "Five minutes. Maybe ten if I'm really backed up. Ye can spit it all out after if ye want. Don't have to swallow a drop." "Never." The word comes out as a whisper. "Never?" He tilts his head. "Think about it. Seven days of cock-polishin', then ye're free. I'll remove the collar, ye go home to that pretty wife. Tell her ye were captured but escaped. Hero returns!" He's lying. Has to be lying. But... "Why?" My voice cracks. "Why would you-" "'Cause it's funnier this way." He grins wider. "Watchin' ye choose it. Watchin' ye tell yerself it's just seven days, just suckin', not real whoring. The slow breakdown's always better than the quick break." "The collar-" "Collar won't come off unless I want it to. But I give me word-seven days, ye drain me balls each mornin' like a good cow, then ye're free. If ye want to be." *If I want to be.* The addition makes my skin crawl. "Me balls get full. Painful full. Need drainin' every morning or I get... aggressive." He grins. "So ye drain 'em. Just with yer mouth. Five minutes, maybe ten. Every morning for seven days." "You're insane if you think-" "Let me finish." He holds up a warty finger. "Seven days of morning service. Ye can spit it all out after-don't got to swallow a drop. Just milk me cock with that pretty throat, let me pump out the night's buildup. Do that without missin' a day, and on the eighth morning..." He pauses for effect. "I take off the collar. Let ye go. Free." The words hang in the stinking air. Freedom. In just a week. It's too good to be true. It has to be. "You're lying." "Collar won't let me lie to ye direct." He taps his temple. "It tells me when I'm being too sneaky. This is straight truth. Seven days of cock-sucking, then freedom." "Why?" My voice is smaller than it should be. "Why would you-" "Because watchin' Aldric the Great *choose* to suck me cock every morning? That's worth more than gold. And maybe..." He grins wider. "Maybe ye won't make it seven days. Maybe ye'll decide ye like it. Maybe ye'll beg to stay." "Never." "Then ye got nothing to lose." He spreads his legs wider. His cock is fully hard now, twelve inches of purple horror. "Starting tonight, then six more mornings. Dawn service, like prayers. Then whatever chores need doing-cleaning, cooking, normal woman stuff. End of seven days, ye walk away." My mind races through possibilities. His precum. I know it's dangerous. But just in my mouth? I can spit it out. Rinse with water. Not let it get inside me properly. Seven days of humiliation versus a lifetime of slavery. "If ye say no," he adds casually, "then we do this the hard way. I mount ye tonight. Tomorrow. Every day until yer belly swells with gobbo spawn. Yer choice." (simple_option:"02 choose","Accept deal.","Reject it.")

($play:"song","snib hut theme")(if:$choice is "Accept deal.")[(pic:"ch02/submit.jpg") Choice. That word again. Everything with him is about making me choose my own degradation. "And if I bite?" The threat comes out weak. "Then the collar kills ye and I fuck yer corpse." He says it simply. "But ye won't bite. Heroes don't go out like that." He's right. Flux burn him, he's right. I'd rather suck his cock than die with it in my mouth. "Just... just sucking?" My voice is barely a whisper. "Nothing else?" "Just sucking. Like a good little cock-maid. Though..." He pretends to think. "Ye gotta do it proper. No half-assed licks. Real throat-work. The kind that makes me balls empty proper. And ye gotta thank me after." "Thank you?!" "For the opportunity. For not mounting ye like I could." He's fully erect now, the head purple-dark and already leaking. "So what's it gonna be, cow-tits? Seven days of morning worship, or a lifetime of gobbo babies?" His cock drools precum onto the dirt floor. The stench fills the hut and my thoughts go honey-slow, like trying to read underwater. "Ye're strong, yeah? Big hero like you can handle some cock-snot. Spit it out." *Cock-snot.* The vulgarity makes me gag. But it also makes my pussy clench. Why does my pussy clench? "Tonight after dinner," I hear myself say. "Then mornings. Seven days. Then I'm free." "If ye want to be," he adds again, that knowing grin spreading. "Shake on it?" I look at his extended hand. Warty. Dirty. Probably covered in cock-sweat from all that scratching. I take it. His grip is firm, warm. "Welcome home, Elise. Let's get ye settled in yer new life." The hide flap of his hut beckons like a mouth. Beyond it, shadows and stench and seven days of degradation I'm choosing. CHOOSING. But what choice do I really have? "Oh," he adds casually, "first suck is after dinner. Give ye time to prepare yerself mentally. Maybe practice openin' yer throat." (simple_option:"02 bj 1","That evening...")](else:)[(pic:"ch02/determined.jpg") Seven days. Seven mornings of putting that purple-headed monster in my mouth. My gorge rises just from the arithmetic. "I need to..." My voice sounds strange, distant. "I need to think about-" "Think?" Snib scratches his balls through his loincloth, the wet sound filling the silence. "What's to think? Either ye want freedom or ye want gobbo babies. Simple math, even for a woman-brain like yers." *Woman-brain.* The insult should ignite rage but it just slides off. Like water on oiled leather. Everything feels slippery in my thoughts, hard to grip. Must be exhaustion. Must be hunger. Must be anything except- That smell. His cock-stench is everywhere in this hut, concentrated from months of him sleeping here, rutting here, spurting his seed on these very furs. It coats the inside of my nostrils like lamp oil, seeping deeper with each breath. Making my thoughts move through honey. "Seven days," I hear myself whisper. Testing the words. They taste like copper and surrender. "Just mornings. Just... sucking." "That's right, cow-tits." He's fully hard now, his cock pushing his loincloth out like a tent pole. A wet spot spreads where the tip presses against the fabric. "Just drainin' these heavy balls so they don't ache. That's practically a kindness yer doing." (hidden_gem:"My mind tries to form the word 'no' but it keeps dissolving.","My mind attempts making the word 'no' but it keeps melting, dispersing like mist.") I watch a bead of precum soak through his loincloth. Watch it grow from coin-sized to palm-sized. The rational part of me, Aldric's part, screams warnings about pheromones, about corruption, about what happens to women exposed to goblin seed. But that voice sounds so far away now. Like someone shouting from another room while I'm underwater. "I won't..." The words are thick, slow. "I'm not going to..." But even as I speak, my knees are bending. Just slightly. My body tilting forward like a flower toward sick sunlight. The metal boots scrape against his floor, dirt and old bones and things I don't want to identify, as I take a tiny step closer. "See?" His grin widens. "Yer body knows what's best. Smart body on a silly hero." (minigame:"02 resist",6)]

($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","snib hut theme")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(pic:"ch02/submit.jpg") "Seven days," I hear myself say. The words come out breathy, defeated. "Then I'm free." The words taste like ash and surrender. My voice-this musical, feminine voice-cracks on 'free.' Because some part of me already knows it's a lie. But the alternative: mounting me like livestock, pumping me full of his spawn. "Smart cow." He extends his warty hand. "Shake on it?" I stare at his palm. Green skin mottled with warts, dirt under his nails, probably sticky with cock-sweat from all that scratching. This is what I've become-making deals with something I used to exterminate for sport. (hidden_gem:"My hand moves forward like it's swimming through treacle.","My hand advances like it's pushing through thick, viscous treacle.") Our palms meet. His grip is firm, too warm, slightly damp. The contact makes my skin crawl. But also something else. A flutter in my belly that might be revulsion or might be my womb recognizing its new master's touch. "If ye want to be," he adds with that knowing grin, pumping my hand up and down. "Free, that is." The handshake goes on too long. His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist, finding my pulse. Feeling how fast my heart is racing. When he finally lets go, my palm is slick with his sweat. I resist the urge to wipe it on my thighs. "Welcome home, Elise." He gestures to his squalid hut. "Let's get ye settled in yer new life." *New life.* The words echo in my skull. This morning I was Aldric, trying to put a baby in my wife. Now I'm negotiating blowjob schedules with a creature that barely comes up to my tits. "Oh," he adds casually, already turning away, "first suck is after dinner. Give ye time to prepare yerself mentally. Maybe practice openin' yer throat. Wouldn't want ye to choke on the first night." The casualness of it, like we're discussing laundry, makes my pussy clench. That empty ache between my legs that's been building all day suddenly intensifies. My thighs are so wet they slip against each other when I walk. "I'll... I'll cook the fish," I whisper, needing to focus on something, anything else. "Good girl. Already learnin' yer place." The praise, PRAISE from this thing, shouldn't make warmth bloom in my chest. But it does. Flux help me, it does. (simple_option:"02 bj 1","That evening...")](else:)[(pic:"ch02/no.jpg")(playwhenread:"im not going to suck") "NO!" The word tears from my throat with more force than I knew I had left. It echoes off the crude walls, seems to push back the fog that's been creeping through my thoughts like morning mist. "No. I won't-I'm not going to suck your disgusting cock. Not tonight. Not for seven mornings. Not EVER." The silence stretches between us like a held breath. Snib's yellow eyes narrow to slits, his head tilting like a confused dog hearing a new sound. "No?" He tests the word, rolling it around his mouth like spoiled wine. "Did the great hero just say... no?" "You heard me." My whole body trembles-rage or fear, I can't tell anymore. "I'm Aldric the Great. I've killed hundreds of your kind. I don't negotiate with vermin. I don't make deals with parasites. And I certainly don't put goblin cock in my-" His laughter cuts me off. Not angry. Delighted. Like a child discovering his birthday came early. "Oh, this is BETTER!" He claps his warty hands, actually bounces on his toes. "The hero's still got fight! Thought that pretty head was already mush, but look at ye! Standin' there with them udders heavin', tellin' me no!" (hidden_gem:"Each word feels like wading through honey-thick air.","Each word weighs like wading through warm, wicked honey.") "Find another toy." The spit flies from my lips. "Kill me if you want. I'd rather die than-" "Than suck cock, yeah yeah." He waves dismissively, already moving. "But would ye rather be mounted?" The word 'mounted' sends ice through my veins. Like I'm livestock. Like I'm a- He's circling now, that roach-quick scuttle that makes my skin crawl. His loincloth tents obscenely, the fabric dark with moisture where the tip presses. "See, I wanted to go slow." His voice drops, becomes conversational. "Let ye marinate in yer own shame. But if ye're gonna be difficult..." He stops behind me. I try to turn but the collar pulls taut. When did the leash appear in his hand? "Then we do this the old way. The goblin way." *YANK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:70,0.12),(a:250,0.18),(a:420,0.08),(a:580,0.12),(a:730,0.05),(a:880,0)))) The leash jerks me forward so hard I stumble. My tits swing like temple bells, nearly escaping the metal triangles. My hands shoot out to catch myself and I end up bent at the waist, ass presented- *CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.48),(a:120,0.30),(a:280,0.20),(a:440,0.12),(a:620,0.06),(a:800,0)))) (pic:"ch02/bad end/eyes.jpg") His palm connects with my right cheek hard enough to make the flesh ripple in waves. The sound echoes off the hut's walls like thunder. "THAT'S for sayin' no." *CRACK!* Left cheek. "That's for thinkin' ye got choices." *CRACK!* "And that's just 'cause I like watchin' it jiggle."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.46),(a:100,0.30),(a:1200,0.44),(a:1300,0.28),(a:2400,0.42),(a:2500,0.26),(a:2650,0.16,(a:2800,0.08),(a:3000,0))))) My knees buckle. The metal boots scrape against packed dirt as I try to stay upright, but he yanks the leash DOWN, hard, and suddenly I'm on all fours. The position. Flux's balls, the POSITION. These obscene sacks of flesh hang straight down, dragging in the dirt, nipples scraping earth through the gaps in the scales. "There we go." He sounds pleased. "Proper position for a hero." His feet shift on my ass, toes digging into the soft meat for purchase. I feel him pull back, dragging that massive green shaft through my crack. The bulbous purple head catches on my asshole for one terrifying heartbeat before sliding past.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:300,0.12),(a:600,0.20),(a:800,0.32),(a:900,0.25),(a:1100,0.15),(a:1400,0.10),(a:1800,0.06),(a:2200,0)))) The weight of it drops down, hanging like a warm club between my spread thighs. "Please-" The word tears out before I can stop it. "Please, I'll do the deal, I'll suck-" "Nah." He bounces slightly, making my ass jiggle under his weight. "Changed me mind. Gonna plant me flag in hero-cunt instead." His cock swings forward, the fat mushroom head kissing my pussy lips with a wet *smooch* sound. Not pushing. Just resting there. I feel my lips part slightly around the tip, like they're trying to give it a kiss back. The heat of him burns against my entrance.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:150,0.15),(a:400,0.22),(a:700,0.25),(a:1000,0.28),(a:1300,0.30),(a:1600,0.28),(a:1900,0.30),(a:2200,0.32),(a:2500,0.30),(a:2800,0.28),(a:3200,0.25)))) A rope of his precum drools down, mixing with the shameful wetness already glazing my thighs. "Feel that?" He grinds the head in small circles, spreading his slime around my entrance. "Me cock knockin' on yer door." I try to crawl forward but the boots have locked my shins to the dirt. Metal fused to earth like I'm in breeding stocks. My tits drag through pine needles as I struggle, the metal triangles catching and pulling. "No no NO-" He grabs my hair with both hands, yanking my head back so hard my spine curves. The angle forces my ass even higher, pussy tilted up like an offering plate. I feel him notch himself properly now. The head nestled between my lips, spreading them obscenely wide just from the girth. My entrance stretches around just the tip and already it feels impossible. "Fer Grotch." He pushes forward an inch. My pussy lips stretch white around purple-green meat. "Fer Scab." Another inch. The flared ridge of his cockhead pops past my entrance with a wet *SCHLORP*. "And this-"(playwhenread:"insert rough") He SLAMS home.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.70),(a:60,0.55),(a:120,0.60),(a:180,0.50),(a:220,0.42),(a:420,0.35),(a:600,0.28),(a:800,0.22),(a:1000,0.18),(a:1300,0.12),(a:1600,0.06),(a:2000,0)))) (hidden_gem:"My pussy splits open around him like a sword through a peach.","My pussy parts and splits, plundered like a sword savaging a summer peach.") (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/mount.jpg","My pussy splits open around him like a sword through a peach.") (change_stat:"heroism",-15)The entire length spears into me in one brutal thrust. Every ridge, every wart, every throbbing vein carves through my walls as he hilts himself balls-deep. His hairy sack SMACKS against something between my legs that sends lightning through my spine. Some button of flesh where my own cock used to be. The impact makes a wet *SPLAT* as his balls stick to my soaked lips before dropping away. "FUUUUCK YEAH!" He howls, grinding his hips in circles. "TIGHT AS A VIRGIN! GRIPPIN' ME LIKE A FIST!" (simple_option:"02 violated","Bite down on your hair to muffle any sound.","Let out the moan building in your throat.")]

(if:$choice is "Let out the moan building in your throat.")[($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.45,"peakTo",0.55,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",45,"releaseMs",75,"rampBeats",24,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.18,"depthJitter",0.09))My mouth opens to scream but what comes out is worse- (change_stat:"heroism",-10)"Ahhhhhhhhnnnn!" (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/moan.jpg","The moan erupts from somewhere deeper than my throat.") The moan erupts from somewhere deeper than my throat. My whole chest vibrates with it, this feminine keen that I've never made, never COULD make before. It's surrender translated to sound. It's my body singing its violation. The noise fills the hut, high and breaking, nothing like Aldric's battle roars. "THERE it is!" Snib crows, grinding deeper. "There's the bitch-noise! Knew ye had it in ye!" The moan keeps coming. I try to stop it but my throat has mutinied. Each tiny movement of his cock inside me pulls another whimper out. Little "nnh, nnh, nnh" sounds with each pulse of his shaft. My voice has become an instrument he's playing with his cock. He pulls back slowly, dragging every inch through my clutching walls. I feel myself trying to hold him, muscles I never had before squeezing around his retreat. The wet *SCHLOOOOORP* sound as he withdraws makes my face burn. When just his head remains inside, stretching my entrance, he pauses. "Listen to that hungry cunt." He flexes, making his cock jump inside me. "Suckin' at me like a toothless granny on candy." Then he RAMS forward again. *PLAP!*(playwhenread:"plap 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.52),(a:200,0.35),(a:350,0.12),(a:500,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) His balls swing forward like wrecking balls, slapping my clit with a meaty crack. The impact sends something electric through my entire body-not pain but something worse. Something that makes my pussy clench around him, milking his shaft. "HAH! Pussy's beggin' for it already!" He starts fucking in earnest now, short brutal thrusts that make my whole body jolt. "One thrust and the hero's moanin'! Two thrusts and she's milkin' me cock!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.48,"peakTo",0.58,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",550,"intervalTo",400,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",50,"releaseMs",85,"rampBeats",22,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.25,"depthJitter",0.10)) *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* Each impact of his hips against my ass makes the meat ripple outward in waves. My cheeks clap around his skinny hips, the sound obscene in the small hut. His balls maintain their own rhythm-swinging forward to spank my clit a half-second after each thrust. The dual percussion makes me sound like a drum being beaten. My tits have their own physics. Each thrust sends them swinging forward, heavy and inevitable as millstones. They collide under me with meaty THWAPs before swinging back, nipples dragging through dirt. The metal triangles have shifted completely, doing nothing but cutting into the sides while my nipples scrape earth. "Look at them udders swing!" He leans forward, his pot belly pressing against my lower back. "Gonna milk ye from both ends! Breed ye while ye feed me babies!" His weight forces me lower. My face presses into the dirt while my ass stays high, speared on his cock. He's so small he can barely reach my shoulders, but somehow he's completely in control. His clawed feet grip my ass cheeks, using them like handholds as he hammers into me. *SQUELCH-PLAP-SQUELCH-PLAP* The sounds get wetter. My pussy is GUSHING around him, each thrust pushing out clear fluid that runs down my thighs. I've never been this wet in my life-as a man OR this violation of a body. It's like my insides are melting, turning to slick heat that eases his passage. "Wet as a marsh!" He spits-I feel the glob land between my shoulder blades and slide down my spine. "Soakin' me balls! This is what hero-cunts are for!" His cock feels like it's reshaping me from the inside. Each thrust carves deeper, the bulbous head punching into something at my deepest point that makes stars explode behind my eyes. It's like being hollowed out and filled simultaneously. My pussy has become a sheath and his cock is the only sword that fits. "*Grulkaz-thrack! Womb-thrack! Breed-pound!*" He starts chanting in Goblish, each word timed to a thrust. "*Cum-tank! Rape-sleeve! Hero-hole!*" The words blur together but I understand them all. My pussy clenches with each degrading name, responding to the rhythm. He notices. "Oh ho! Cunt knows Goblish better than ye do!" He reaches under, grabs one swinging tit, SQUEEZES.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:200,0.42),(a:500,0.40),(a:800,0.35),(a:1100,0.28),(a:1400,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) "This udder knows what '*milk-sack*' means! This arse knows '*breed-mount*'!" His other hand yanks my hair back harder, forcing me to arch like a bow. The angle changes everything. Now his cock curves up inside me, dragging against something that makes my whole body seize. Every nerve ending lights up at once. "NO!" I try to scream but it comes out as another moan. "Ahhhh-haaaahn!" "That's the spot!" He rabbit-fucks that angle, quick shallow thrusts that make obscene *pliplipliplip* sounds.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.52,"peakTo",0.62,"baseFrom",0.18,"baseTo",0.18,"intervalFrom",260,"intervalTo",210,"attackMs",20,"sustainMs",28,"releaseMs",45,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.22)) "That's what makes hero-cunts cream! Right... THERE!" Something's building inside me. I knew pleasure as a man. Quick lightning, then silence. This is no lightning. This is a tide with teeth, rising from my toes, unhurried, knowing it has already won.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","ramp","from",0.55,"to",0.72,"steps",16,"duration",4000,"curve","soft")) My thighs shake uncontrollably. My pussy spasms around him in waves. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK-" The words pour out in a feminine whimper. "Something's-I can't-" "Bout to pop, ain't ye?" He SLAMS deep and grinds, stirring his cock inside me. "Bout to cum on the cock of something ye stepped on! How's that for honor?" I think of the wives we rescued from goblin dens. Their hollow eyes. Their swollen bellies. The way they begged to go back. Now I understand. Now I'm becoming one of them, moaning like livestock while this disease of a creature ruins me. "Please-" I don't even know what I'm begging for anymore. "Please please please-" "Bet ye never made yer wife sound like this." He pounds harder, his breathing getting ragged. "Bet she never moaned like a bitch in heat. But one thrust of gobbo cock and ye're HOWLIN'!" He's right. The sounds coming from my throat aren't human. They're animal. Desperate. Each thrust pulls out another piece of my dignity and replaces it with need. My pussy has become a creature separate from me, sucking at him, trying to milk out what it wants. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 fight.jpg","left","My ass ripples and claps, the meat bouncing independently of my will.")His sweat drips onto my back-thick and oily, stinking of onions and unwashed flesh. It mingles with mine, our scents mixing into something feral. His tongue suddenly drags up my neck, rough as tree bark, leaving a trail of thick saliva that makes my skin crawl and tighten simultaneously. "Gonna make ye cum." He bites my ear, teeth like broken glass. "Gonna make the great Aldric cum on gobbo cock. Then gonna pump ye full of babies. Green babies. Dozens of 'em." The mental image-my body swollen with goblin spawn-should disgust me. Instead, my pussy clenches so hard he groans. "FUCK! Grippin' like ye want it!" He speeds up, balls slapping a frantic rhythm against my clit. *PLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPPLAP* "Want them babies, don't ye? Want to be a gobbo incubator!" "No!" But even as I deny it, that terrifying pressure builds higher. My vision edges with white. My whole body draws tight as a bowstring. "I won't-I can't-I'm not going to-" "Yes ye are." He reaches around, finds my clit with uncanny accuracy, PINCHES. "Cum for me, hero. Show me what ye really are." The pressure crests. I'm standing on the edge of something vast and terrible. My pussy spasms around his cock in pre-orgasmic flutters. Everything in me screams to let go, to fall into it, to surrender. But I can't. I WON'T. I'm Aldric the Great. I've resisted torture. I've endured dragonfire. I can resist this base animal response. I HAVE to. "Come on, cow-tits!" He's fucking me like he's trying to split me in half. Each thrust bottoms out with a wet SMACK, his cock battering something deep inside that sends shockwaves through my whole body. "Let it go! Cream on me cock! Show me what human cunts are for!" My eyes roll back. My mouth hangs open, drool running onto the ground. Every muscle in my body is locked in that horrible space right before release. My pussy is a vice around his cock, rippling and squeezing, trying to milk out his cum. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/moaning.jpg") (minigame:"02 1st orgasm check",12)](else:)[($play:"sex loop",0)(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.40,"peakTo",0.52,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",650,"intervalTo",440,"attackMs",32,"sustainMs",55,"releaseMs",100,"rampBeats",24,"intensityJitter",0.09,"intervalJitter",0.26,"depthJitter",0.10))I bite down on my own hair to muffle the sound trying to escape. Black strands between my teeth, tasting of lavender and shame. My mouth floods with spit I can't swallow. The fullness. Eon's bones, the FULLNESS. Like someone shoved a wine bottle up inside me. Like being stuffed with a LOG of hot meat. My walls stretch and reshape around him, every ridge of his cock carved into my channel like a mold. He pulls back slowly, dragging every bump and ridge through my stretched entrance. The suction makes an obscene *SHHHHLLLLUUUURP* like pulling a boot from mud. My pussy tries to hold him, gripping and releasing in waves I can't control. Just the head remains inside, my lips wrapped around his glans like they're trying to polish it. Then he SLAMS forward again. *PLAP!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.68),(a:55,0.52),(a:110,0.58),(a:170,0.48),(a:220,0.38),(a:400,0.28),(a:600,0.22),(a:800,0.16),(a:1000,0.10),(a:1200,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/insert.jpg") His balls swing up and slap that spot again. My whole body lurches forward from the impact, tits swinging like temple bells, clapping together with meaty *WHAP-WHAP* sounds. The metal triangles cut deeper into my flesh with each swing. "Listen to that!" He starts a rhythm now, pulling out slow, slamming in hard. *SHLORP... PLAP! SHLORP... PLAP!* "Yer cunt's singin' for me!"($play:"sex loop","sex no moan")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.45,"peakTo",0.56,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",720,"intervalTo",480,"attackMs",32,"sustainMs",55,"releaseMs",140,"rampBeats",20,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10)) Each thrust makes different sounds. When he pulls out, my pussy makes these embarrassing sucking noises, like it doesn't want to let go. When he slams in, the wet SQUELCH echoes through the forest. His balls create their own percussion-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP against my clit, each impact making that strange button throb harder. "Look at them cheeks dance!" He spreads his toes wider on my ass, and I feel every detail-the rough skin, the sharp nails, the way he uses my ass like handles. My cheeks clap together with each thrust, the sound mixing with everything else into a display of meat-on-meat violence. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-SQUELCH-PLAP* I try to drop my hips, to deny him the angle, but his grip on my hair keeps me bent like a bow. Tears stream down my face, dripping onto my swinging tits. Hay needles stick to the sweaty flesh. My armor jingles frantically-*ching-ching-ching*-as everything bounces and swings. "Gonna cum already?" He leans forward, and I feel his pot belly rest on my lower back, his weight pressing me down while his cock presses up. "Can feel ye squeezin'. Pussy's milkin' me like a cow's teat!" He's right. I can feel my walls clenching and releasing around him in waves. Each time he bottoms out, hitting something deep inside that makes stars explode behind my eyes, the clenching gets stronger. My pussy is trying to eat him, to swallow him whole, to keep him inside where he's stirring up sensations I don't have words for. His spit lands between my shoulder blades-a hot glob that runs down my spine like a snail. He follows it with his tongue, dragging the rough muscle from my neck to my ear. It feels like wet sandpaper, leaves a trail of onion-stink saliva that mixes with my honeyed sweat. "Bet ye never made yer wife's cunt this wet," he grunts in my ear. "Listen-" He stops thrusting for a moment, just grinding deep. The wet sounds are obscene, *squish-squish-squish*, as his cock stirs my pussy like a mortar and pestle. I can feel myself dripping around him, running down my thighs in shameful rivers. "Please-" The word comes out muffled around my hair. "Please stop-" "Stop? When yer pussy's suckin' me this good?" He starts thrusting again, harder. "When ye're drippin' like a broken fountain?" *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* The rhythm builds. His tiny hands grip my hips now, fingers barely reaching around to my belly, using them like handles to pull me back onto his cock. Each thrust drives deeper, harder. The wet sounds get louder, nastier. My pussy makes these horrible churning noises, like butter being violently mixed. "All them human women," he pants, his breath hot on my neck, "they all cum on goblin cock. Every one. It's what yer holes are for. Goblin sheaths. Cock-polishers." I shake my head violently, hair whipping. But the pressure is building. Something deep in my belly, behind where his cock keeps punching. A heat that spreads outward with each thrust, makes my thighs shake, my fingers dig into the dirt. "Here's the deal," he says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. "If ye don't cum, we go back to the suckin' deal. Seven days, then freedom." Hope flares through the building pressure. "But WHEN ye cum-" He emphasizes it with a particularly brutal thrust that makes my eyes roll back. "When ye cum on me cock like the cock-sleeve ye are, then I breed ye. Fill that hero-womb with goblin babies. Make ye forget ye were ever anything but a cum-toilet." His thrusts get erratic now, but somehow more devastating. The angle changes slightly and suddenly he's hitting something that makes my whole body seize. That button of flesh his balls keep slapping swells, throbs, sends waves of unwanted pleasure through my core. "Feel it buildin'?" He's gleeful now, his cock swelling even thicker inside me. "Feel that hero pussy gettin' ready to surrender? To admit what it's for?" I do feel it. This pressure like I need to piss but different, deeper. My pussy clenches around him in rhythms I don't control. The wet sounds get even louder as I flood around his cock, my body preparing for something, begging for something. Images flash through my mind as I fight the building sensation: goblin raids I've stopped, villages burning, women found months later with swollen bellies and empty eyes. That's what he wants me to become. "NO!" I scream around my hair, biting down harder. (change_stat:"heroism",-3)"YES!" He howls back, jackhammering now. His cock pistons in and out so fast the sounds blur together-*PLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPPLAP*-his balls beating against my clit like a drum. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 fight.jpg","left","My ass ripples and claps, the meat bouncing independently of my will.")My tits swing so violently they actually hurt, slapping against my ribs, against each other, against the ground. The metal triangles have shifted completely, my nipples dragging through dirt with each swing. My ass ripples and claps, the meat bouncing independently of my will. "GOBBO COCK WINS!" He shouts in Goblish, then Common, then Goblish again. "HERO CUNT LOSES! ALWAYS! ALWAYS!" The pressure crests. Right at the edge. My pussy spasms around him, trying to pull him deeper, to keep him inside, to- No. NO. I'm Aldric. I'm a hero. I don't cum on goblin cock. I DON'T- But my body doesn't care what I am. It only knows what it needs. (minigame:"02 1st orgasm check",10)]

(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[($play:"sex loop",0)(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.54,"peakTo",0.60,"baseFrom",0.05,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",450,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",48,"releaseMs",75,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.26,"depthJitter",0.10))(playwhenread:"elise doggy orgasm",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.60),(a:400,0.72),(a:800,0.80),(a:1200,0.85),(a:1600,0.78),(a:2000,0.88),(a:2400,0.82),(a:2800,0.92),(a:3200,0.85),(a:3600,0.95),(a:4000,0.88),(a:4400,1.0),(a:4800,0.90),(a:5200,0.95),(a:5600,0.85),(a:6000,0.90),(a:6400,0.78),(a:6800,0.82),(a:7200,0.70),(a:7600,0.72),(a:8000,0.60),(a:8400,0.55),(a:8800,0.45),(a:9200,0.35),(a:9800,0.25),(a:10400,0.15),(a:11200,0.08),(a:12000,0))))I try to resist. Every muscle in my body locks against it. But his cock FLEXES inside me-that massive green shaft jumping like a living thing-and my pussy SUCKS at it in response. The muscles I never had before ripple down his length, milking from base to tip like a throat swallowing. "There it is!" Snib squeals, grinding deeper. "Feel that cunt beggin'! SQUEEZIN' me like she's thirsty!" The sensation blooms first in my toes. They curl like burning parchment. Then it climbs my legs like sap rising toward hungry sun, slow and inevitable, and my thighs shake with the weight of its coming. My pussy starts doing something I can't control, *clenching* in waves, each squeeze tighter than the last, like my body's trying to crack his cock like a walnut. "No no no NO-" But the warmth is already flooding my belly. Not the quick spike I remember from being male. This is like drowning from the inside out. Heat pools heavy in my guts, spreading outward in thick honey-waves. My whole pelvis feels like it's melting, turning to hot wax around his shaft. Then my pussy CLAMPS. "AAAAAHHHHHHHNNNNNNN!" (vid:"img/ch02/bad end/early fuck/orgasm.mp4") The sound tears from my throat. Not a scream. Something worse. A SQUEAL. High and breaking, the kind of noise sows make when mounted. My voice cracks into nonsense. "NGHHHAAAAA-HAAAAAHN!" My pussy goes absolutely fucking INSANE around his cock. (playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 1")"FUCK YEAH! MILK IT, COW!" Snib yanks my hair back so hard I see the ceiling. "SQUEEZE THAT GOBBO COCK!" (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 orgasm.jpg","right","The sound tears from my throat. Not a scream. Something worse. A SQUEAL. ")The orgasm ROLLS through me in waves. My pussy becomes a fist, crushing down on him so hard I feel every wart, every vein imprinting inside me. Each clench sends lightning through my spine, making my back arch until I'm bent like a bow. My tits swing up and SLAP back down, the metal triangles jangling like dinner bells. "Look at ye GRIP!" He's laughing, delighted. "Cunt's suckin' me like a baby on a tit!" Then something else happens. Pressure in my belly, different from the orgasm. Like I need to piss but DEEPER. The feeling builds as my pussy spasms, and suddenly- *SPLOOOOOORRRRT!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.75),(a:300,0.30),(a:600,0.68),(a:900,0.25),(a:1200,0.62),(a:1500,0.22),(a:1800,0.55),(a:2100,0.18),(a:2500,0.45),(a:2900,0.14),(a:3300,0.35),(a:3700,0.10),(a:4200,0)))) Hot liquid JETS out around his cock, spraying backward in a pressurized stream. It splashes against his balls, his thighs, runs down my legs in rivers. The shame should kill me but my body doesn't care. It keeps GUSHING. "PISSING YERSELF?" Snib cackles, pounding through my orgasm. *SQUIRRRT-SPLASH-SQUIRRRT!* Each thrust pushes out another jet. I can hear it hitting the floor behind us-wet splashes like someone's dumping buckets. My pussy won't stop clamping, won't stop gushing. It's like my body's trying to push him out and pull him deeper simultaneously. "PLEASE-" I don't even know what I'm begging for. "PLEASE-HNNNGH-FUCK-" (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 squirt.jpg","Each thrust pushes out another jet.") "Listen to them noises!" He grinds his hips, stirring his cock inside my spasming walls. "Moanin' like a bitch! Squealin' like a sow! Where's the hero now?" My eyes roll back. My tongue lolls out. The orgasm keeps GOING, rolling into another peak before the first one dies, stacking, compounding. Every clench squeezes out more fluid with obscene *SPLORT-SPLASH* sounds. I'm emptying from both ends: tears from my eyes, shame from my cunt. "Twenty seconds!" Snib counts gleefully. "Still cummin'! Still squirtin'! Bet ye never came like THIS with a cock!" He's right. As a man, orgasm was a quick release. This is complete body possession. Every nerve is firing. My nipples feel like they're being electrocuted by a spell. That new little bundle of flesh his balls keep spanking, the thing that used to be my cock, throbs like a second heartbeat. Even my TEETH feel the pleasure somehow. "Gonna go deeper," he grunts, pulling my hair until my spine screams. "Gonna put it where no human cock can reach." He pulls back slightly, then RAMS forward with his entire weight. Something inside me, some barrier I didn't know existed, stretches. I feel it resist for one terrifying moment, then- (playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.85),(a:100,0.92),(a:250,0.88),(a:500,0.75),(a:800,0.68),(a:1200,0.72),(a:1600,0.65),(a:2000,0.70),(a:2400,0.62),(a:2800,0.58),(a:3500,0.55),(a:4200,0.52),(a:5000,0.50))))*POP!* His cockhead punches through into someplace DEEPER. The sensation is instant. Like being stabbed with hot iron, but also like scratching an itch I never knew I had. My whole body seizes. This orgasm on top of orgasm makes my vision go black at the edges. "GAAAAAAHHHHHHTHRAAACCK!" The word-scream that comes out doesn't sound human. My pussy CLAMPS so hard on his base that he groans. But the head. The fat purple head is somewhere else now. Somewhere that makes my whole belly feel FULL in a way that's completely wrong. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","left","I can feel it flexing in there, that mushroom head flaring wider, LOCKING itself in place.")"IN YER BABY-CHAMBER NOW!" He announces triumphantly. The words don't make sense but the FEELING does. He's deeper than deep. His cockhead is lodged somewhere that evolution never meant to be touched. I can feel it flexing in there, that mushroom head flaring wider, LOCKING itself in place.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.58,"amplitude",0.12,"periodMs",1800,"forever",true)) "Please-" I sob, still cumming, still squirting. "Please, it's too deep-" "This is where babies get made!" He grinds, stirring his cockhead in that forbidden space. "Where gobbo babies get planted in humie-wombs!" Each tiny movement in there sends fresh waves through me. My orgasm has become something else. Something continuous, broken. My pussy just keeps squeezing, keeps gushing. The puddle under us is spreading. My thighs are soaked. His balls are dripping with my shame. My tits hang like dead weight, nipples dragging in the dirt I've turned to mud with my own fluids. The metal triangles jangle with each spasm. My ass jiggles constantly from my shaking thighs. Everything about my body is in full surrender-moaning, squirting, clenching, CUMMING endlessly on the cock of something I killed dozens of. "What would yer wife think?" He yanks my hair, making me arch more. "Seein' her husband-NGHH-squirtin' like a whore? Moanin' like livestock?" The image of Elara burns through my orgasm-fried brain. This morning I was trying to put a baby in her. Now I'm- *SPLOOOOORT!* Another massive gush as my pussy clenches. The shame makes it WORSE, makes me cum HARDER. My body is betraying everything I was with each spasm, each squirt, each pathetic moan. "Ye LOST," Snib declares, his cock throbbing in my womb. He starts fucking that deep place. Short, brutal thrusts that don't pull out of my womb, just stir it. The sensation is indescribable. Like being fucked in my stomach, in my soul. My orgasm finally starts to ebb but leaves me shaking, aftershocks making my pussy clench weakly around him. "Now fer my turn," he grunts, speeding up. (simple_option:"02 1st breeding","Moan desperately.","Squeal in defeat.")](else:)[(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.52,"peakTo",0.58,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",400,"intervalTo",340,"attackMs",26,"sustainMs",42,"releaseMs",70,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.18,"depthJitter",0.09))My whole body screams for release. Every nerve begs to let go, to tumble into that vast warm ocean of sensation building in my guts. My pussy ripples around his cock in pre-orgasmic flutters, trying to milk him without my permission. But I'm Aldric the Great. I've held my breath underwater for five minutes. I've stayed conscious through torture. I've walked on broken legs. I can resist THIS. "HNNNGH-NO!" I grit my teeth so hard my jaw cracks. "I won't-FUCK-won't cum for you!" (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 resist.jpg","right","I think of Elara. Her auburn hair. Her laugh. The way she looked at me this morning with such love.")I think of Elara. Her auburn hair. Her laugh. The way she looked at me this morning with such love. That's who I am. Her HUSBAND. Not this meat-puppet with a goblin's cock splitting me open. The image anchors me, pulls me back from the edge. "Stubborn cunt!" Snib pounds harder, his balls creating a violent rhythm against my clit. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* "Ye're gonna cum! All humie women cum on gobbo cock!" The pressure builds higher. My thighs shake so hard they cramp. My pussy clenches and releases, clenches and releases, right on that knife's edge. One more thrust, one more grind, and I'll tip over. But I hold it back through pure will, the same iron discipline that let me stand vigil for three days straight. "I'm-ALDRIC-" I force the words through clenched teeth. "Not-your-WHORE!" (hidden_gem:"My pussy squeezes him like a vice but I refuse to let it push me over.","My pussy presses and pinches like a vise but I prevent it pushing me past the precipice.") "HAH! Still fightin'?" He yanks my hair back harder, forcing my spine to arch until it screams. "Let's see how long that lasts!" Suddenly he pulls out completely. The wet *SCHLOOOORP* of his exit makes my empty pussy clench on nothing. Before I can process the relief, his hands grab my hips. "Up! Legs straight! Keep that arse HIGH!" He pushes and pulls, maneuvering me like a doll. My face stays pressed to the dirt but my legs straighten, locking at the knees. My ass points straight at the ceiling, so high my spine curves down at an obscene angle. The position makes my pussy gape open, drooling clear strands of shame onto the floor. "There we go!" He climbs back onto my ass, his feet finding purchase on my cheeks like they're stirrups. "Proper breedin' position!" His cock, that massive green log, points straight down at my exposed hole. I feel the fat purple head kiss my entrance. Then he just DROPS. *SPLORTCH!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:80,0.58),(a:160,0.62),(a:240,0.48),(a:350,0.38),(a:500,0.28),(a:700,0.20),(a:900,0.12),(a:1100,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) His entire weight drives his cock down into me like a spear from heaven. Every inch rams through my pussy in one brutal gravity-assisted thrust. His balls SMACK against my mound with the sound of wet leather hitting stone. "GAAAHHH!" The scream tears from my throat. This angle. Flux's balls, this ANGLE. His cock curves differently, dragging against places that make my vision white out. My legs shake, trying to hold the position while this creature uses my ass like a trampoline. *PLAP!* Up. *PLAP!* Down. *PLAP!* Up. *PLAP!* Down. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/dominate.jpg","He's not even thrusting, just using his weight, bouncing on my ass while his cock pistons in and out.","left")He's not even thrusting, just using his weight, bouncing on my ass while his cock pistons in and out.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.50,"peakTo",0.62,"baseFrom",0.05,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",360,"attackMs",38,"sustainMs",35,"releaseMs",70,"rampBeats",18,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.30,"depthJitter",0.14)) Each drop drives him balls-deep, the head punching my deepest parts. Each rise drags him almost completely out, my pussy lips clinging to his shaft like they don't want to let go. "Look at them cheeks RIPPLE!" He grabs handfuls of my ass, sinking his clawed fingers deep into the soft meat. "Fat fuckin' arse made fer gobbos to ride!" My tits swing like wrecking balls with each impact. They collide under me-*WHAP-WHAP*-sending the metal triangles jangling. My nipples drag through dirt I've turned to mud with my own drool. The collar around my neck clinks with each bounce. "Still not cummin'?" He increases his pace, really SLAMMING down now. "Let's fix that!" He spreads my ass cheeks wider with his hands, and I feel cool air hit my asshole. Then, horror, his thumb presses against it. "NO! Not there-" "Just a little poke!" His thumb pushes inside to the first knuckle.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.15),(a:150,0.30),(a:350,0.35),(a:600,0.32),(a:900,0.28),(a:1200,0.22),(a:1600,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) The dual sensation, his cock destroying my pussy while his thumb violates my ass, sends fresh waves through me. That pressure builds again, twice as fast, twice as strong. My pussy starts that terrible clenching, that rolling squeeze that signals defeat. "There it is!" He crows, feeling me tighten. "There's that hungry cunt wakin' up!" "I won't-HNNGH-won't cum-" "Ye will." He DROPS down particularly hard, bottoming out with a wet SPLAT. "Know how I know?" He leans forward, his pot belly pressing against my lower back, his breath hot on my ear. "'Cause yer already drippin'. Been drippin' since I stuck it in. Yer cunt LOVES gobbo cock, even if yer brain don't." He's right. I can hear it-the wet SQUELCH-SQUELCH-SQUELCH with each bounce. My pussy is sopping, making obscene sounds as he pile-drives into me. Each impact sends little sprays of my wetness flying. "Elara!" I gasp her name like a prayer. "Elara, I'm sorry, I'm trying-" "Gonna count ye down!" He announces gleefully. "Ten thrusts till ye cream!" "NO!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.52),(a:180,0.15),(a:900,0.54),(a:1080,0.18),(a:1800,0.56),(a:1980,0.20),(a:2700,0.58),(a:2880,0.24),(a:3600,0.60),(a:3780,0.28),(a:4500,0.63),(a:4680,0.32),(a:5400,0.66),(a:5580,0.36),(a:6300,0.70),(a:6480,0.40),(a:7200,0.74),(a:7380,0.45),(a:8100,0.78),(a:8280,0.50),(a:8600,0.72),(a:9000,0.68),(a:9500,0.65),(a:10000,0.60)))) "TEN!" *SLAM* His cock drives so deep I taste it in my throat somehow. "NINE!" *SLAM* My pussy clenches involuntarily. "EIGHT!" *SLAM* My clit throbs with its own heartbeat. "SEVEN!" *SLAM* My vision starts going white at the edges. "SIX!" *SLAM* My legs shake so hard the heel-spikes scrape against the floor. "FIVE!" *SLAM* A moan escapes despite my clenched teeth. "Nnnnnghh!" "FOUR!" *SLAM* My pussy starts that rolling clench that signals the edge. "THREE!" *SLAM* My whole body draws tight as a bowstring. "TWO!" *SLAM* The pressure becomes unbearable, unstoppable. "ONE!" *SLAM* He hilts and GRINDS, stirring his cock inside me. (minigame:"02 2nd orgasm check",10)($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")]

(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/precum.jpg","right","Even goblin precum can get you pregnant.")($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")(if:$choice is "Moan desperately.")["Please-" The word comes out as a broken whine, my voice cracking like a boy's. "Please don't-not inside-" But I can FEEL it starting. His balls, those hairy, sweaty sacks that have been spanking my clit, suddenly draw up TIGHT against his body. They pulse against that sensitive nub, sending aftershock sparks through my still-spasming pussy. "HERE IT COMES!" Snib SQUEALS, his voice going shrill with pleasure. "GONNA PAINT YER BABY-ROOM WHITE!" His whole body goes rigid on top of me. His pot belly presses harder into my lower back, his clawed toes digging into my ass cheeks for purchase. I feel his cock SWELL inside me, actually expanding, stretching my already-abused walls wider. Then the first pulse. I don't see it but Eon's bones, I FEEL it. His cock lurches like a kicked snake, the shaft rippling from base to tip. Something HOT, hotter than blood, hotter than fever, jets into that deep place he's lodged himself. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 cum.jpg","right","Even goblin precum can get you pregnant.")"NNNNGHHHHHAAAAAAHHHHH!" The noise he makes is pure animal pleasure. Not human at all. A chittering, squealing celebration of conquest. His whole weight-all sixty pounds of warty green flesh-shudders on my back. The second pulse is STRONGER. I feel the cum traveling up his shaft like watching a snake swallow an egg, that bulge of fluid racing through the underside of his cock before- It fires into my womb with actual FORCE. Like someone turned on a hose inside me. The heat is immediate, spreading through my belly like drinking mulled wine but WRONG, so wrong, because it's inside parts that should never feel warmth from outside. (sperm:"SPLOOOOORT",3,"splurt 1")"TAKE IT!" He's babbling now, lost in his pleasure. "TAKE ME GOBBO-BATTER! DRINK IT WITH YER WOMB!" (sperm:"SPLURT-GLOOOOORP-SPLORT",3,"splurt 4")Third pulse. Fourth. Fifth. Each one pumps what feels like a ladleful of thick, clotted heat into me. I can feel my belly starting to extend-just slightly-as he fills that sacred space with his putrid seed. The texture. Flux's balls, the TEXTURE. It's not liquid. It's more like hot porridge. Lumpy. I can feel chunks of something swimming in the thinner fluid. It CLINGS to my insides, coating everything, too thick to run back out around his cock-seal. "So much," I whimper, my head hanging between my arms. "Too much-" "SEVENTEEN MORE SPURTS!" He announces gleefully, his cock lurching again. (sperm:"SPLURT-GLOP-SPLURT",3)My womb is FULL. Beyond full. I feel the pressure building as he keeps pumping, keeps filling. The overflow has nowhere to go but BACK, squeezing around his shaft in vulgar bubbles. I hear it-wet BLORP-BLORP sounds as cum forces its way out around his seal. Then I feel it on my thighs. THICK. Like custard left in the sun. It doesn't run so much as OOZE down my legs in hot, chunky rivers. The smell hits next. Concentrated rot, like cheese mixed with dead fish mixed with something medicinal. It makes my eyes water. "FIFTEEN! SIXTEEN!" He's counting his spurts like victory drumbeats. "SEVENTEEN! EIGHTEEN!" Each pulse makes my pussy clench involuntarily, milking him. My body is HELPING him breed me. The muscles I never asked for ripple along his length, coaxing out every drop of his nasty goblin sludge. The heat is unbearable. It feels like he's filling me with boiling gravy. My whole belly radiates warmth from the inside out. Something WRITHES in there. His sperm are already swimming, already hunting, and I can feel every one of them like maggots in warm meat. "TWENTY-THREE! TWENTY-GAAAHHHHH!" His final spurt is different. THICKER. It comes out in one long, continuous stream like he's pissing inside me. *GLOOOOOOOOOOOOORP*. The pressure is too much. My pussy lips make obscene farting sounds as air and cum bubble out around his shaft. He pulls back slowly, his cockhead dragging through my womb's entrance with a wet *POP*. The moment he's out, it's like pulling a cork from a wine bottle. (sperm:"SPLOOOOOOOSH",5,"splurt 2")Cum GUSHES from my gaped pussy. Not drips. FLOODS. It pours out in thick, chunky waves, splattering on the floor with heavy SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT sounds. I feel it running down both thighs, pooling around my knees. The smell is overwhelming. Concentrated goblin musk mixed with my own shameful wetness. But he's not done. Still standing on my ass, he aims his still-spurting cock at my back. One final rope of cum, impossibly long, like a white snake, shoots up my spine. It lands with a heavy SPLAT across my shoulder blades, up my neck, and- The hot glob hits my forehead and runs down. Some gets in my hair. Some drips onto my lips. The taste- I gag, spitting, but it's too late. That rancid thickness coats my tongue. Salty-sour-rotten, with chunks that pop between my teeth like fish eggs. My stomach heaves. Finally, FINALLY, he climbs off. My arms give out immediately. I collapse face-first into the puddle of our mixed fluids, my ass still up, pussy gaping and drooling his seed. I can feel it inside me still. So much of it, so DEEP. My womb feels like a water balloon filled with spoiled porridge. "HAHAHA!" Snib dances around to face me, his cock still dripping. "LOOK AT YE! BRED PROPER!" He grabs my hair, yanks my head up. My face is a mess-tears, snot, drool, his cum. He WIPES his cock clean on my cheek, the smell making me gag again. "That's GALLONS of baby-batter in ye now." He grins. "Gobbo sperm swim fer DAYS. Probably already chewin' through whatever egg ye got in there." The horror hits like cold water. The stories. The warnings. Goblin cum is hypervirile. One load can cause multiple pregnancies. And he just pumped enough inside me to breed a whole village. "No," I whisper, feeling more glob out of my pussy. "No, I can't be-" "Oh, ye're DEFINITELY knocked up." He scratches his deflating balls casually. "Probably with twins. Maybe triplets. Gobbo seed doesn't miss." My pussy is still gaping, still drooling. I can feel his cum MOVING inside me, seeking, hunting. My womb aches with fullness that won't drain-too thick, too deep, too clingy. It's not coming out. It's staying in there, doing what it's meant to do. "Gonna be funny," Snib muses, "watching yer belly swell with me spawn. The great Aldric, waddlin' around with gobbo babies kickin' inside." He walks over to the corner, and I hear liquid splashing. He's PISSING. The stream hits the floor, steaming in the cool air. Then he turns- The hot stream hits my back. He's pissing ON me. The stream hits the small of my back like warm rain and I flinch. Not from pain but from the sheer DOMESTICITY of it. Like watering a plant. Like he's done this a hundred times. It pools in the hollow of my spine, overflows down my ribs, mixes with cooling cum into a slurry that smells like a stable after a hot week. His piss is thicker than a man's, yellower, and it STAINS. I can feel it dyeing my skin. "Welcome to yer new life, breed-mare," he says cheerfully, shaking off the last drops on my ass. "We got LOTS more fun ahead."](else:)[I can't form real words anymore, just these pathetic mewling sounds. My pussy is still twitching from the aftershocks, little clenches that make wet squelching noises around his shaft. "Here it comes, cow!" I feel his whole body go rigid on top of me. His clawed toes dig deeper into my ass cheeks. His breathing catches-one sharp inhale through his nose that whistles. Then his balls-those hairy, sweat-slick sacks that have been spanking my clit-draw up TIGHT against my soaked lips. "GRAAAAAAHHHHK!" The squeal he makes isn't human. It's pure animal pleasure, high and chittering. His cock inside me starts doing something-a rhythmic FLEX I can feel all the way in my guts. The head flares wider in that deep forbidden place, swelling like a fist opening. Then I feel warmth. Not like precum. This is different. THICKER. A heavy, liquid heat that blooms in my deepest parts. The sensation is so alien. I've never had anything IN me before, let alone- "BREEDING YE!" He squeals, grinding his hips. "PUMPIN' YE FULL!" Another flex. Another bloom of heat. This time I feel the FORCE of it-like he's pissing inside me but thicker, nastier. The warmth spreads through my belly in waves. My womb, that's what he called it, starts to feel FULL. Not stretched but OCCUPIED. Like something heavy and warm is pooling in there. I can HEAR it. The wet sounds of his release echoing inside me. Each pulse makes a nauseating *GLORP* as it floods that deep chamber. The heat keeps building-so much hotter than my own body temperature that it feels like molten porridge being poured into my guts. "Take it all!" He's grinding in circles, stirring his cocktip in my womb while he empties. "Every-NGHH-fuckin'-DROP!" (sperm:"SPLURT GLOP-SPLURT",5,"splurt 4")(hidden_gem:"The stuff flooding me is thick as custard gone bad.","The sludge swamping me is sick-thick as curdled, clotted custard.") (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/1 cum.jpg","right","Even goblin precum can get you pregnant.")I feel it starting to back up. That deep space can only hold so much before it overflows back into my pussy. The first backwash is nauseating, chunky and hot, with a texture like spoiled milk mixed with mucus. It oozes around his still-pulsing shaft, trying to find a way out. "So much," I whimper, my voice broken. "Too much-" "Gobbo balls make LOTS!" Another pulse. Another impossible amount flooding in. "Gonna give ye triplets at LEAST!" The backup gets worse. I feel pressure building as my womb fills beyond capacity. Then it happens. The seal breaks. Hot, thick SLOP starts pushing out around his cock with obscene *SPLORRRT* sounds. It's nothing like the clear fluid I squirted. This is WHITE-YELLOW, clumpy, moving like library paste heated over a fire. The smell hits me as it splashes on my thighs. Concentrated ROT mixed with yeast, like bread dough left in the sun for days. It's so thick it doesn't run-it GLOPS down in heavy strings that steam in the cool air. "Nine spurts!" He counts gleefully. "Ten! ELEVEN! Feel them swimmers!" Swimmers. I can actually FEEL something in the sludge. Movement that isn't just liquid flow. Like tiny things wriggling, burrowing, seeking. The thought makes me gag but my womb keeps taking it, some primitive part of my body ACCEPTING this violation. (sperm:"SPLURT-GLOP-GLORRRP",3,"splurt 3")The sounds get wetter as overflow increases. I feel hot ropes splashing down my inner thighs, pooling under me where I'm collapsed. Each pulse pushes out more of what's already inside, but he keeps adding to it. My whole lower body feels STUFFED with the nasty paste. "Gonna pull out," he warns, grinding one last time. "Watch this!" The withdrawal is obscene. As his cockhead pops free from my womb, there's a moment of resistance. Then a FLOOD. All that backed-up sludge comes pouring out in one massive *SPLOOOOOOSH*. It's like someone turned over a bucket of warm, chunky yogurt between my legs. But he's not done. As he pulls fully out, his cock, still spurting, paints a line up my back. I feel the hot splash travel up my spine, over my neck- (sperm:"SPLAT",3,"splat 1")A massive rope of cum lands across my face. It's so heavy it makes an actual SMACK sound when it hits. The texture. Flux's balls, the TEXTURE. Like warm jelly with chunks of something harder mixed in. It bisects my forehead, crosses my nose, and the tail end lands on my lips. I try to spit but my mouth opens at the wrong moment. The taste- Acid mixed with rotted milk mixed with something FUNGAL. It coats my tongue instantly, thick as paste. I gag, cough, but that just makes me inhale and the smell goes straight to my brain. My eyes water. My sinuses burn. "HAHA! Glazed like a sweet roll!" He's still standing on my ass, his cock drooling the last few spurts onto my hair. "Proper cum-frosted!" My arms give out. I collapse face-first into the puddle of our mixed fluids. The impact makes everything SQUELCH. Hot goblin sludge BURPS out of my pussy in bubbles. I can feel it deep inside, coating everything, marking me from the inside out. "Knocked up fer sure," Snib declares, finally climbing off my ass. "No human cunt survives that much gobbo-seed without gettin' stuffed with babies." The words hit like ice water. Pregnant. The stories. The women found in goblin dens, bellies swollen with green spawn. That's going to be me. There's no way that much SLUDGE inside me won't take root. My pussy is still occasionally spurting out thick glops with wet *PLOP* sounds. I can feel it bubbling inside me, fermenting, doing its work. The smell is everywhere: in my hair, on my face, leaking from between my legs. I'll never be clean again. "This is yer life now," Snib says conversationally, wiping his still-drooling cock on my hair. "Gobbo cum-dump. Gonna fill ye every day until ye pop out greenlings." I try to form words but all that comes out is a broken sob. My body won't stop shaking. Won't stop occasionally clenching and pushing out another glob of his seed with humiliating *SPLORT* sounds. Then I hear him position himself differently. A new sound. Steady splashing. He's PISSING on me. The stream is hot, ammonia-sharp, hitting the small of my back and running down to mix with all the other fluids. He aims it between my ass cheeks, the pressure washing some of his cum out of my still-gaping pussy. "Markin' me property," he explains cheerfully. "So everyone knows ye're owned." The piss seems endless. It pools around me, mixing with cum and my own shameful squirt into a puddle of total degradation. When he finally finishes, he gives his cock a few shakes, the drops hitting my ass. "Welcome to yer new life, Elise," he says. "Bet ye wish ye'd just sucked it now, eh?" I lie there in the filth, feeling his seed working inside me, knowing with absolute certainty that Aldric the Great is dead. All that's left is this cum-stuffed body that's about to grow goblin babies.] (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/big creampie.jpg") (simple_option:"02 bad end","Three months later...")

(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[($play:"sex loop",0)(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.55,"peakTo",0.62,"baseFrom",0.05,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",440,"intervalTo",360,"attackMs",26,"sustainMs",44,"releaseMs",70,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.30,"depthJitter",0.12))(playwhenread:"elise doggy orgasm",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.65),(a:350,0.78),(a:700,0.72),(a:1050,0.85),(a:1400,0.78),(a:1750,0.90),(a:2100,0.82),(a:2450,0.95),(a:2800,0.88),(a:3150,1.0),(a:3500,0.92),(a:3850,0.98),(a:4200,0.90),(a:4550,0.95),(a:4900,0.85),(a:5250,0.90),(a:5600,0.80),(a:5950,0.85),(a:6300,0.72),(a:6650,0.75),(a:7000,0.65),(a:7400,0.58),(a:7800,0.48),(a:8200,0.38),(a:8700,0.28),(a:9200,0.20),(a:9800,0.12),(a:10500,0.06),(a:11200,0))))"ONE!" He hilts and GRINDS, stirring his cock inside me like he's churning butter. The dam breaks. (vid:"img/ch02/bad end/early fuck/orgasm.mp4") Not like cresting a wave. Like someone reached inside and YANKED my guts out through my pussy. My whole body seizes, every muscle locking at once. Then the first clench hits. Every muscle from my asshole to my belly button SEIZES at once, a rolling crush that starts at my stretched entrance and ripples inward, each ring of muscle firing a half-second after the last like a throat swallowing. The sensation of my own insides squeezing is almost worse than the cock they're squeezing AROUND. I can feel the ridges of my own pussy walls, feel them gripping warts and veins I've memorized against my will. "AHHHHHHHHHHH!" The scream tears from my throat, high, breaking, nothing like any sound I've made in thirty-two years of life. My hair whips across my face and STICKS to the tears and drool, black strands glued to my open mouth, caught between my teeth. I sound like the whores in Eboncrest's cheaper brothels, the ones who moan for coin. But they were faking. But I'm not faking. My pussy is WRINGING his cock in waves. Each clench stronger than the last, like my body is trying to crush this invader even as it worships it. The sensation radiates out from where we're joined-hot pulses shooting down my thighs, up my spine, making my toes curl in the metal boots until they cramp. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/2 orgasm.jpg","right","The scream tears from my throat, high, breaking, nothing like any sound I've made in thirty-two years of life.")"THERE IT IS!" Snib crows, feeling me spasm around him. "HERO-CUNT CUMMIN' ON GOBBO COCK!" He keeps bouncing, using my orgasming pussy like a toy. Each drop drives another wave through me. My vision goes white, then sparkles with stars. Every nerve ending fires at once-not pain, not pleasure, but something that transcends both. Like being turned inside out through my cunt. Then pressure BREAKS somewhere deep, like a blister popping inside me. Something hot and urgent gushes out around his cock with a force I can't control, can't even clench against. *SPLURRRRRT!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.80),(a:250,0.32),(a:500,0.72),(a:750,0.28),(a:1000,0.65),(a:1250,0.24),(a:1500,0.58),(a:1750,0.20),(a:2000,0.50),(a:2250,0.16),(a:2500,0.40),(a:2750,0.12),(a:3000,0.30),(a:3250,0.08),(a:3500,0.18),(a:3750,0.05),(a:4000,0)))) "FUCK YEAH! SQUIRTIN' LIKE A FOUNTAIN!" It's not piss. It comes from deeper, from where his cock has rearranged my insides. Each orgasmic clench SQUEEZES it out like wringing a rag, a hot jet that sprays against his swinging balls and spatters back onto my own thighs. I can feel every drop leaving me. I can feel myself EMPTYING. And the emptier I get, the harder my pussy clenches trying to fill the void with HIM. *SPLURT-SQUIRT-SPLURRRT!* "Listen to that!" He spreads my ass cheeks wider, making the sounds echo. "Pissin' yerself from cummin'! Aldric the Great, pissin' like a bitch!" (hidden_gem:"My pussy sprays defeat across his floor in humiliating streams.","My pussy pisses pure, pathetic defeat in pulsing, pressurized streams across his putrid floor.") My mouth hangs open, drool running freely. My eyes roll back until I see only white. My pussy is LEARNING him. Each clench prints his shape deeper into my walls: the curved ridge below his cockhead, the cluster of warts halfway down that scrape like cobblestones, the fat vein on the underside that pulses against my g-spot. This body is making a mold of him, a negative-space cast of goblin cock that nothing else could ever fill properly again. "HNNNNGH! AHHH! AHHHHH!"(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 1") The moans pour out uncontrolled. Each one higher, more desperate than the last. My tits have been bouncing for so long that the ligaments connecting them to my chest BURN, a deep, hot ache like I've been punched repeatedly in the sternum. Each slam against the ground drives the pain deeper. The metal triangles shifted aside ages ago, and now my bare nipples, swollen, oversensitive, scraping through mud made from my own drool and tears, send jolts of something that isn't quite pain and isn't quite pleasure straight to my clenching cunt. "THAT'S IT! MILK ME COCK! SQUEEZE IT!" (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/2 squirt.jpg","Aldric the Great, pissing like a bitch.") He DROPS particularly hard and something inside me gives. *POP!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.88),(a:80,0.95),(a:200,0.90),(a:400,0.80),(a:700,0.72),(a:1000,0.68),(a:1400,0.72),(a:1800,0.65),(a:2200,0.70),(a:2600,0.62),(a:3000,0.58),(a:3500,0.55),(a:4000,0.52),(a:5000,0.50)))) "AAAAIIIIEEEEE!" The scream is inhuman. He's pushed through something, some barrier deep inside. The head of his cock is somewhere it shouldn't be. Somewhere NOTHING should be. It feels like he's in my stomach but lower, like he's invaded some sacred space that's never been touched. "HAH! POPPED YER CHERRY PROPER!" He grinds, stirring his cockhead in this new violated space. "That's yer baby-room! That's where me spawn gonna grow!" My womb. He's in my womb. The organ I never had until today is wrapped around his cockhead like a glove. I can feel it. This hollow ache filled with goblin meat, this violation so complete it rewrites what I am. "Please-" I sob, but my pussy keeps cumming, keeps squirting around him. "Please, it's too deep-" "Never too deep for breeding!" He starts short, brutal thrusts that keep his head lodged in my womb while his shaft pistons through my canal. "Feel that? That's yer womb learnin' its purpose! Gonna flush it with gobbo cum!" The orgasm won't stop. It rolls through me in waves, each one making me squirt more. The floor beneath us is soaked, puddles of my shame spreading outward. My pussy makes obscene SQUELCH-SQUIRT-SQUELCH sounds as he fucks me through it. "Count 'em!" He commands, yanking my hair. "Count yer squirts!" "I-I can't-AHHHHH!" *SPLURRRT!* "That's one!" "Stop-please-" *SQUIRT-SQUIRT!* "Two and three! Keep goin'!" (playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 2")(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","left","My womb. He's in my womb.")My pussy clenches again, another wave of fluid gushing out. I've never felt anything like this. Like my insides are melting and pouring out around his cock. Each squirt feels like pissing but FROM INSIDE, like my pussy is sobbing its defeat in liquid form. "Four! Five! SIX!" He counts gleefully as I spray. "Aldric the Great, squirtin' like a virgin on her first cock!" My legs shake so hard the metal heels scrape grooves in the floor. My ass jiggles with each impact, the meat clapping around his tiny hips. He weighs nothing but he's completely in control, riding my ass like a captain steering a ship. "Gonna pump ye full now," he grunts, his thrusts getting erratic. "Gonna flood that virgin womb with gobbo babies. All because ye came on me cock like a whore." "No-" But even as I protest, my pussy clenches around him, trying to milk out exactly what he's promising. My body has betrayed me completely. Aldric would never cum from being fucked. But this body, this terrible, hypersexual body, was MADE for this. "Yes," he corrects, grinding deep. "Ye lost the bet. Ye came. Now ye get bred." His cock flexes inside my womb and I feel it-the first pulse of what's coming. His balls draw up tight against my soaked pussy. His breathing gets ragged. "Here it comes, cow-tits. Here comes yer first batch of gobbo babies!" (simple_option:"02 2nd breeding","Try to pull away!","Beg him not to cum inside!","Stay silent in defeat.")](else:)[($play:"sex loop",0)(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.50,"peakTo",0.58,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",420,"intervalTo",340,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",44,"releaseMs",72,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.08))(playwhenread:"insert rough")(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/2 fight.jpg","left","My pussy drips and clenches and BEGS to cum, but my mind holds it back like a fist around a throat.")"ONE!" He hilts and GRINDS, stirring his cock inside me like he's churning butter. The pressure builds to impossible levels. My pussy starts that terrible clenching, that rolling squeeze that means defeat. Every muscle draws tight. My vision whites out at the edges. I'm about to- No. NO. I slam my consciousness down like a portcullis dropping. The same iron will that let me hold position while dragonfire scorched the air above. The same discipline that kept me silent under torture. I build walls in my mind-stone by stone, thought by thought. Elara's face. My sword hand. The oath I swore. Each memory a brick against the pleasure trying to drown me. My pussy spasms AROUND the edge but doesn't tip over. I hover there, one heartbeat, two, three, right on that knife's edge of orgasm but NOT FALLING. "What-" Snib feels it, the way I clench but don't cream. "What're ye-NO! Ye can't-" "I'm-ALDRIC-THE-GREAT!" Each word forced through gritted teeth as I hold back the wave by pure fucking will. He SLAMS down harder, trying to force it. His cock pounds that deep spot that makes stars explode. But I've found something deeper. Some core of resistance that even this body can't override. My pussy drips and clenches and BEGS to cum, but my mind holds it back like a fist around a throat. "What-" Snib sounds genuinely confused. "Why ain't ye-ye were RIGHT THERE!" "Because-" I gasp through gritted teeth. "I'm not-your-WHORE!" "Stubborn CUNT!" He yanks out suddenly. The wet *SCHLOOOORP* of his exit makes my empty pussy clench on nothing. Before I can process the relief, he's shoving me, rolling me over like a sack of grain. I land on my back with a meaty THUD, tits bouncing up into my face before settling into pools of flesh spreading toward my armpits. "Let's try somethin' else then!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:200,0.30),(a:500,0.18),(a:800,0.10),(a:1200,0)))) His clawed hands grab the metal triangles barely containing my tits. With a casual gesture, they fall away, the armor responding to him, not me. My breasts spill completely free, pale mountains topped with pink peaks already hard from the cold and everything else. "Look at these udders!" He grabs one in each hand, fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh. "Bigger than me head!" Then he leans down and LATCHES onto my left nipple. "AHHHHH!"(playwhenread:"tit sucking",(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.22,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",1400,"forever",true)) (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/boob suck.jpg","My back arches involuntarily, pushing more tit into his face.") The sensation. Eon's mercy, I've never felt anything like it. His mouth is hot, wet, his tongue rough as tree bark as it swirls around the sensitive peak. He SUCKS, hard, like he's trying to pull something out of me. My back arches involuntarily, pushing more tit into his face. *SLURP-SUCK-SLURP* "Mmmm," he hums against my breast, the vibration traveling straight to my empty pussy. "Taste like ye're ready to make milk." He releases that nipple with a wet POP and attacks the other one, sucking so hard it borders on pain. His teeth scrape the sensitive flesh, making me gasp. Meanwhile his hands SQUEEZE and KNEAD, treating my tits like dough he's working. "Know what these are for?" He asks between sucks, looking up at me with those yellow eyes. "These ain't for lookin' pretty. These are MILK-SACKS." *SLAP!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:120,0.25),(a:280,0.16),(a:440,0.08),(a:600,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) His palm connects with my right tit, making it bounce and collide with the left. The impact sends shockwaves through the soft tissue. "Soon gonna have six, seven splurtlings hangin' off these." He grins, pinching both nipples and PULLING until my back arches off the ground. "Little green pups with their teeth sinkin' into these fat nipples, suckin' ye dry." "No-please-" "Oh yes." He goes back to sucking, alternating between violent suction and gentle licks that make my pussy clench. "But here's the thing-ye won't be eatin' normal food no more." I try to focus on anything else-the dirt floor, the smell of rot, the collar's cold weight-but his mouth on my nipples sends lightning straight to my cunt. The sensation is overwhelming, like being attacked by pleasure at a point I can't defend. "Gonna put ye on a special diet." He talks between sucks, spittle flying. "Just one thing. Can ye guess what?" (hidden_gem:"My mind recoils even as my nipples harden further under his assault.","My mind mutinies and migrates away even as my nipples numb and needle harder under his horrible, hungry assault.") "Every mornin', noon, and night-" *SUCK* "-ye'll be drainin' me balls-" *SLURP* "-right down that pretty throat." "I won't-" "Ye will." He bites down on my nipple, not hard enough to break skin but enough to make me cry out.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:80,0.35),(a:200,0.28),(a:400,0.18),(a:600,0.10),(a:800,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) "See, gobbo cum's got everythin' a breedin' bitch needs. Proteins for the pups growin' in yer belly. Fats to make these tits swell with milk." He demonstrates by grabbing both breasts and SHAKING them, watching them jiggle. My face burns with humiliation. "Three meals a day of thick, hot nut-sludge." He grins at my expression. "Down yer throat, fillin' yer belly. Ye'll forget what real food tastes like. Just the taste of me balls drainin' into ye." My pussy CLENCHES at the mental image. I hate it, hate how my body responds, but it's like these new parts have their own will. "And the best part?" He sucks my nipple so hard I see stars. "The more gobbo cum ye drink, the more milk these udders make." He paints the picture with horrifying clarity: "Ye'll wake up with these milk-tanks so full they hurt, beggin' me to bring the pups to drain 'em. Six little mouths with sharp teeth, chompin' down while ye cry. And while they're suckin' one batch of milk out yer tits, I'll be pumpin' the next batch of babies into yer cunt." "Stop-stop talking-" "Couple months and ye won't even remember bein' human." He moves to my right breast, sucking so hard my heel-boots scrape against the floor. "Just a milk-cow for gobbos. These tits hangin' to yer belly, swingin' when ye crawl. Yer ass gettin' even fatter from all that cum." His hands are everywhere-squeezing, slapping, pinching. My tits feel like they're on fire, every nerve ending singing. Despite my horror, my back arches, pushing them up toward his mouth. My pussy drools steadily, making wet spots on the dirt. "Please-" I don't even know what I'm begging for anymore. "Ye'll WANT it." He grins up at me, my nipple between his teeth. "Week of drinkin' nothin' but gobbo cum and yer brain starts changin'. Ye'll wake up CRAVIN' the taste. Crawl to me beggin' for breakfast. 'Please Master Snib, me belly's empty, need yer thick cum to fill it.'" I'm panting now, my chest heaving, making my tits bounce with each breath. He takes advantage, motorboating between them, his face disappearing into my cleavage while making disgusting BRRRRR sounds. "Ye'll measure time by feedings." His voice is muffled by tit-flesh. "Morning skull-fuck. Noon cockmilking. Evening gulp-session. Maybe midnight snack if ye're good." He emerges, face flushed, and starts SLAPPING my tits in rhythm. Left-right-left-right, watching them bounce and collide.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","rhythm","peakFrom",0.35,"peakTo",0.35,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",600,"intervalTo",600,"pulseMs",100,"forever",false,"beats",8)) "Month from now, ye won't remember the taste of bread. Just cum. Thick, chunky gobbo cum slidin' down yer throat. Yer tits'll learn too-start leakin' just from the smell of me cock." My nipples are so hard they hurt. The mental image he's painting horrifies me. But my body responds like it's receiving instructions. "And the pups..." He grins wider. "Twenty, thirty of 'em within a year. All suckin' these tits while their brothers grow in yer belly. Ye'll forget ye ever had a name. Just 'Milk-cow' or 'Cum-tank' or whatever we call ye." He sits back, admiring his work. My tits are covered in his spit, shining in the dim light, marked with teeth impressions. My nipples throb with each heartbeat. I'm gasping, writhing, my pussy so wet I can feel it pooling beneath me. That's when he positions himself between my spread legs. I'm on my back now, completely naked except for these ridiculous heel-boots pointing at the ceiling. I can see everything-his warty green body, his pot belly, that massive cock pointing at my entrance like a weapon. He notches the purple head against my pussy lips. Just resting there. Waiting. "Ready for round two, cow-tits?" (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary insert.jpg") (simple_option:"02 missionary","'Please... no more...'","Stay silent and glare.","'I... I won't cum. I won't!'")]

(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/precum.jpg","right","Even goblin precum can get you pregnant.")($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")(if:$choice is "Try to pull away!")[I try to pull away but my body won't obey. His cockhead lodged in my womb acts like an anchor. When I try to crawl forward, it tugs at something so deep inside that my vision sparkles. My pussy is still clenching in aftershocks, each spasm making me aware of how thoroughly he's hilted in me. "Where ye goin'?" He laughs, grabbing my hips. "Can't run with gobbo cock in yer baby-room!" I manage to waddle forward maybe an inch, my spread thighs shaking, but the angle, face pressed to dirt, ass pointed at the ceiling, means his cock just slides deeper when I move. It's like I'm impaled on a spit, unable to dismount. That's when I feel it. His breathing changes. Quick little grunts, "*hungh-hungh-hungh*", like a dog about to vomit. His fingers dig into my ass cheeks so hard I'll have bruises. Through the haze of my own orgasm, reality crashes down: He's about to cum. Inside me. In my womb. "No no no NO-" His balls, those heavy, hairy sacks that have been slapping against me, suddenly draw up tight. They press against that sensitive button between my legs, the thing that used to be the root of my cock, sending another unwanted jolt through me. But worse is what I feel through them. A churning, like something thick being pumped through tubes. "HERE IT COMES!" He squeals. Actually SQUEALS like a pig finding slop.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:1500,0.47),(a:3000,0.52),(a:4500,0.57),(a:6000,0.60),(a:7500,0.62),(a:9000,0.60),(a:10500,0.57),(a:12000,0.52),(a:14000,0.44),(a:16000,0.36),(a:18000,0.28),(a:20000,0.20),(a:22000,0.12),(a:24000,0.06),(a:26000,0)))) The first pulse. I feel his cock swell inside me, stretching my already-abused walls. Then- (sperm:"GLOOOOORP",3)Something hot. Hotter than blood. It jets into that deep place where his cockhead sits, splashing against walls that have never felt anything before. The sensation is so alien my brain can't process it. Just registers WRONG, INVASION, TOO DEEP. "TAKE IT! FUCKING TAKE IT!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:1500,0.45),(a:3000,0.50),(a:4500,0.55),(a:6000,0.58),(a:7500,0.60),(a:9000,0.58),(a:10500,0.55),(a:12000,0.50),(a:14000,0.42),(a:16000,0.35),(a:18000,0.28),(a:20000,0.20),(a:22000,0.12),(a:24000,0.06),(a:26000,0)))) (sperm:"SPLOOORT-GLOOOORP",2,"splurt 2")The second rope is thicker. I can feel the texture of it through my insides-not liquid but something between porridge and curdled milk, chunky and viscous. It floods that hollow space, and I feel my womb expand, like a waterskin being filled, but inside me. "All fer you!" He grunts, grinding deeper. (sperm:"SPLURT-GLORP-SPLOOOOORT",5,"splurt 8")More. So much more. Each pulse is accompanied by his high-pitched squealing, like he's in religious ecstasy. I feel the cum pooling in my womb, hot and heavy, churning with each flex of his cock. Some of it backflows into my pussy, and that's when I realize- It's MOVING. Not just flowing. Writhing. Like thick soup with chunks that swim on their own. The heat of it makes my insides cramp. My pussy clenches involuntarily, milking him for more of this vile seed. "Feel that?" He pants between spurts. "That's gobbo baby-batter! Gonna knock ye up fer sure!" (sperm:"GLOOOORP-SPLURT-GLUG-GLUG",3)My womb is full. Beyond full. I feel the pressure building as he keeps cumming, nowhere for it to go. Then, overflow. Hot, thick ropes squirt out around his cock with obscene *SPLORTCH* sounds, running down my thighs in chunky streams. The smell hits me. Concentrated rot mixed with cheese that's gone liquid in summer sun, underlaid with something chemical, something ALIVE. It coats my nostrils, makes my eyes water. This isn't human seed. It's some kind of biological weapon. "Still cummin'!" He announces gleefully. "Gobbo balls hold more than human heads!" (sperm:"SPLOOOOOOOGE",3)A particularly thick rope. I feel chunks push through his cockhole, spreading me from inside as they travel into my womb. Like cottage cheese being piped through a pastry bag. Some of it immediately backflows, and I feel the texture as it oozes out-stringy, sticky, forming bridges between my thighs that refuse to break. My face is pressed into dirt but I can see between my legs: white-yellow slime pooling beneath me, still steaming in the cool air. Actual steam, like fresh bread but wrong, diseased. The puddle grows with each pulse. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/creampie internal.jpg","The puddle grows with each pulse.") "Nine... ten... ELEVEN!" He counts his spurts. Finally, FINALLY, I feel him pulling out. The wet SCHLOOOOOORP as his cock exits makes me gag. Without his cockhead corking me, the cum FLOODS out. (sperm:"BLOOOOOORT",5)It pours from my gaped pussy in a thick, chunky stream. I feel every lump, every string as it exits. My womb contracts, pushing more out, but there's so much. SO MUCH. It keeps coming, bubbling out like a broken sewer pipe. But he's not done. Still standing on my ass, he aims his still-spurting cock at my back. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/2 cum.jpg","left") *SPLAT* A rope as thick as ship rope lands between my shoulder blades, hot enough to burn. It oozes down my spine, pooling in the small of my back. Another rope, *SPLAT*, across the back of my head, tangling in my hair. The weight of it, the heat, the STENCH- The final spurt arcs over my head and- *GLOP* Lands directly on my face. Across my forehead, over my nose. I try to close my mouth but I'm panting, and it lands on my tongue. The taste. Like licking a latrine. Like cheese aged in a corpse. I gag, spit, but it's too thick, too sticky. It clings to my tongue, coats my throat. "HAH! Glazed like a festival cake!" He hops down. Without his weight pinning me, I collapse forward into the puddle of our combined fluids. My tits splash into the cooling cum. My face lands in dirt turned to mud by various fluids. I feel his seed still bubbling out of me, my pussy making obscene *BLORP-BLORP* sounds as it empties. "Look at that cream-pie!" He walks around to face me, his softening cock still drooling. "Proper bred now!" He grabs my hair, lifts my cum-covered face, and uses my black locks to wipe his cock clean. The casual degradation of it, using me like a rag, breaks something inside me. When he lets go, I collapse completely. Cum still oozing from my gaped pussy. His seed swimming in my womb. The knowledge crushing me: I'm pregnant. No way I'm not, from that. "Gonna love carrying me babies," he says cheerfully, already pulling his loincloth back on. "Gobbo spawn are proper active in the womb. Gonna feel 'em swimming around in there within a sennight!" He whistles as he walks to his pile of furs, leaving me face-down in a puddle of cum, pussy still occasionally spurting out another glob with obscene *BLORT* sounds. "Oh!" He turns back. "Almost forgot!" I hear him walk back over. Then warmth-different warmth-splashing on my back. He's pissing on me. The stream is heavy, ammonia-strong, marking me like territory. It mixes with the cum, creating a vile slurry that pools around my collapsed form. The final humiliation. Not even worth proper acknowledgment, just something to piss on after use. "There we go," he sighs with relief. "Properly marked now. Sweet dreams, cow-tits. Tomorrow we start yer new life proper." I lie there, cum bubbling from my pussy, piss cooling on my back, the absolute certainty crushing me: Aldric the Great is pregnant with goblin spawn.](else-if:$choice is "Beg him not to cum inside!")["No! No no NO! Don't cum inside! Please, I'm begging-" "Too late, cow-tits!" His claws dig into my ass cheeks, anchoring himself. I try to pull forward but I CAN'T. His cockhead lodged in my womb acts like a fishhook, keeping me speared. My legs are spread wide in these fucking heels, thighs burning from the position, pussy stretched around his base like a too-small glove around a fist. Then I feel it. His balls, those hairy, sweaty sacks that have been slapping against me, draw up tight. They press against my soaked pussy lips, against that sensitive nub where my cock used to be. The pressure makes me gasp, a stupid little aftershock of pleasure even as terror floods through me. "Hnnnnggghhhh-" That's his sound. This wet, guttural grunt of pleasure that vibrates through his whole body. I feel it through his cock. The first pulse, like a heartbeat but wrong. The shaft swells thicker inside me, stretching my already-abused walls. Something hot blooms deep in my belly. Not on my belly. IN it. In that violated space where his cockhead sits. The first spurt is just warmth, spreading like spilled soup inside me. But thick soup. Porridge left too long on the fire. "TAKE IT!" He squeals, his voice cracking with pleasure. "TAKE ME GOBBO-SLOP!" The second pulse. Stronger. I feel the cum traveling up his shaft. Actually FEEL it moving through the tube of his cock like pudding through a baker's pipe. Then it SPURTS against my inner walls with enough force that I gasp. (sperm:"SPLORCH",7,"splurt 1")That's the sound it makes inside me. Wet and thick and wrong. "Please stop-" But my protest is cut off by the third pulse. This one's different. Chunkier. Like he's pumping custard with lumps in it. I feel the solid bits hitting my womb walls, sticking, spreading. The heat is overwhelming-like someone poured fresh-boiled porridge straight into my guts. "BREEDIN' YE!" He's losing his mind with pleasure, his whole tiny body shaking on top of my ass. "PLANTIN' ME FLAG IN HERO-CUNT!" (sperm:"GLORP-SPLURT-GLORP",3)The sounds get wetter, nastier. Each pulse pumps more of his vile seed into me. I can't see it but I can FEEL it-the way it doesn't flow like liquid should. It's stringy, connected, pulling at itself as it fills me. Like the way honey pours but thicker, hotter, more alive. My womb is full. Beyond full. But he keeps cumming. "So much-" I whimper. "Too much-" The pressure builds until I feel it backflow into my pussy, oozing around his shaft. Then, horror, it starts dripping out. *SPLAT* (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/creampie internal.jpg")The first glob hits the floor between my spread legs. I catch a glimpse of it. Yellowish-white like pus, thick as pudding, with darker chunks swimming in it. The smell hits immediately: sour milk mixed with something bleachy, something that burns my nostrils. "Look at it leak!" He grunts, still pumping. "Yer cunt can't hold it all!" (hidden_gem:"His seed overflows from my stuffed womb like porridge from an overfilled pot.","His seed spills and streams from my stuffed, stretched womb like spoiled porridge spurting from a splitting pot.") More pulses. Five. Six. Seven. Each one weaker but still substantial. The cum gets thicker toward the end. The last spurts are almost solid, like curdled cream being forced through a sieve. I feel them stick inside me, coating my walls, refusing to flow back out. "There we go," he sighs with satisfaction. "Proper bred now." He pulls back slowly. His cockhead POPS free from my womb with a wet sucking sound that makes me sob. Then the rest of his shaft drags out, each inch making obscene squelching noises as my pussy tries to close behind it. The moment he's out, it's like pulling a cork from a wine bottle. (sperm:"GLORP-SPLURT-GLORP",)His cum GUSHES from my gaped pussy, pouring out in thick ropes. It hits the floor with heavy splats, pooling between my legs. The consistency is horrifying: some parts liquid, some parts cottage cheese chunks, some parts long strings that won't break. It's HOT, steaming in the cool air of the hut. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/2 cum.jpg","left")But he's not done. Still standing on my ass, he aims his still-hard cock at my back. *SPLURT* A final rope of cum shoots out, traveling the length of my spine. It lands with a heavy SPLAT from my lower back all the way up to- *PLAP* Right across my face. The hot string of goblin cum bisects my forehead, crosses my nose, and the end lands on my lips. I taste it immediately-sour and thick and WRONG, like spoiled milk mixed with salt and something fungal. "PFFFFT-" I spit, gag, try to get it off my tongue, but it CLINGS. Sticky like tree sap but alive somehow. My arms give out. I collapse face-first into the dirt, my ass still raised, cum pouring from my pussy in obscene gushes. Each pulse of my traitorous cunt pushes out more-*BLORP... BLORP... BLORP*-like my womb is vomiting up his seed. But I can feel what stayed inside. The thick stuff. The chunky stuff. The stuff that's already swimming deeper, looking for- "Knocked up fer sure," Snib announces cheerfully, hopping off my ass. "That was prime breeding shot. Backed up fer days, that was." He walks around to my face, his cock still dripping. Without warning, he wipes it on my hair-long strokes, cleaning off the cum and pussy juice. "This is yer life now," he says conversationally. "Gettin' bred daily. Maybe twice daily once yer belly starts showin'." I know the stories. Every woman taken by goblins. The rescue parties finding them months later, bellies swollen with- No. But I felt it. The sheer VOLUME of what he pumped into me. The thickness of it, designed to stick, to stay, to take root. My womb is FLOODED with goblin seed. There's no way, absolutely no way, I'm not... Pregnant. The word hits like a physical blow. I'm going to have a goblin baby. Maybe multiple. Those chunky, swimming things are already hunting for eggs, and this body, this horrible, hypersexual body, probably has plenty. "Give it a few months," Snib says, already pulling his loincloth back on. "Ye'll be beggin' fer more. They always do." Then, as final insult, he stands over me and I hear his stream start. *PSSSSSSSSS* Hot piss splashes across my back, mixing with the cum already coating me. The stream is heavy, steady, marking me like territory. It pools in the small of my back before running down my sides. "There we go," he sighs with relief. "Properly marked inside and out." The combined stench-cum and piss and my own shameful wetness-makes me retch. But I can't move. Can't do anything but lie here in the puddle of our mixed fluids, feeling his seed swimming inside me, looking for purchase. "Welcome to yer new life, Elise," he says, giving my ass a final slap. "Hero to bred bitch in one day. Must be a record."](else:)[My mind floats in orgasm aftershocks, pussy still clenching weakly around the log of green meat speared through me. Can't think. Can't move. Face pressed to dirt, ass pointed at the ceiling like a breeding mare, this massive cock lodged somewhere past where cocks should go. Then I feel it. His breathing changes. Quick little huffs against my lower back where his pot belly rests. His clawed toes dig deeper into my ass cheeks, finding purchase in the soft meat. The cock buried in my guts flexes. Just once. A strong pulse that makes my oversensitive walls squeeze back involuntarily. "Hehehehe..." His giggle is wet, excited. "Here it comes, hero. Here comes yer first taste of gobbo baby-batter." His balls, those hairy sacks that have been slapping my clit, draw up tight. I feel them contract against my soaked pussy lips, the coarse hair scratching my oversensitive flesh. They pull up so hard they actually lift slightly, and that pressure against what used to be where my cock attached sends a stupid aftershock through me. "Nnngh-wait-" But he's already started making this sound. This squealing. High-pitched and victorious, like a pig finding truffles. His whole little body shudders on top of mine. "HNNNNNGGGGHHHHH!" The first sensation is just warmth. Deep warmth, spreading somewhere behind my belly button. His cock swells thicker. I feel my pussy walls stretch to accommodate. And then- (sperm:"GLOOOOORP",5,"splurt 1")Something hot and thick shoots into that violated space inside me. Not a spray but a heavy, sluggish rope that I feel the weight of. Like someone pouring warm porridge directly into my guts, except it's moving. Writhing. "TAKE IT!" He squeals, grinding deeper. "TAKE ME FUCKIN' NUT!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:1500,0.45),(a:3000,0.50),(a:4500,0.55),(a:6000,0.58),(a:7500,0.60),(a:9000,0.58),(a:10500,0.55),(a:12000,0.50),(a:14000,0.42),(a:16000,0.35),(a:18000,0.28),(a:20000,0.20),(a:22000,0.12),(a:24000,0.06),(a:26000,0)))) (sperm:"SPLOOORT-GLORP",4)Another rope. This one I feel more clearly-the journey of it through his cock, the pulse traveling up the shaft buried in me, the moment it erupts from his tip. It's so thick I can feel it coiling inside my womb like rope being fed into a sack. "First rope for Grotch!" He grunts, yanking my hair. "Second for Pustule!" My eyes go wide. He's... he's actually doing it. Cumming inside me. A goblin is ejaculating in my womb. The thought hits like ice water but my pussy responds with another traitorous squeeze, milking him. (sperm:"GLORP-GLORP-GLOOOOOORRRRRP",2,"splurt 5")The sound comes from inside me-wet, thick, like stirring day-old porridge. Each rope lands heavy and hot, and now I'm starting to feel the texture through my walls. It's not liquid. It's chunky. Clotted. Like cottage cheese being squeezed from a bag, complete with lumps that I feel depositing inside me. "Fuck yeah, milk it! Squeeze out every drop!" His pleasure-sounds are obscene. Grunting and squealing and chittering in Goblish. His cock throbs so hard I feel it in my spine, each pulse delivering another serving of that thick, nasty soup. The smell hits next, seeping out around his shaft, a bleachy, yeasty stench like bread dough mixed with rotted fish. "So much," I whimper, feeling my womb starting to bloat. "Too much-" "Never enough for breedin'!" He grinds his hips, stirring the mess inside me. "Gonna pack ye so full of cum ye'll taste it!" (sperm:"SPLURT-GLOOOOORP-SPLORT",3,"splurt 4")He's not stopping. The spurts blend together into one continuous flow, like he's pissing cum into my womb. I feel it filling every space, backing up into my tubes, the pressure building. My lower belly starts to pooch out slightly from the sheer volume. Then I feel it bubbling back. *BLORT* The first overflow squeezes out around his shaft, and the sensation makes me gag. It's so THICK. Like warm glue mixed with snot, clinging to my pussy walls as it's forced out by the pressure of more cum flooding in. It doesn't drip. It GLOOPS down my thigh in a chunky strand. "Look at that!" He cackles, still cumming. "Overflowin' already! Packed to the brim with gobbo cream!" (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/creampie internal.jpg") His cock gives a particularly strong throb and I feel something else. Harder chunks shooting through. Like tapioca pearls but warm and alive, wriggling as they travel up his shaft and deposit in my womb. Some kind of concentrated sperm-sacs that will dissolve later, ensuring pregnancy. "Those are me special swimmers," he explains gleefully, feeling me tense. "Gonna burrow right into yer eggs. Probably got twins cookin' already!" The horror of it, pregnant, with GOBLIN spawn, makes me try to pull forward, but his cock is lodged in my womb like a cork. I can't move. Can only stay there as he floods my insides with his nasty, backed-up nut. The spurts finally start slowing, but now they're even thicker. Pure jelly-worms of concentrated sperm, so dense I feel each one land like a dollop of warm pudding. My womb is so full it aches, stretched with goblin semen, definitely fertilized, definitely conquered. "One more," he grunts, and gives a final thrust. (sperm:"GLOOOOOOOOOOOOORP",2,"splurt 1")This last rope is pure sludge. I feel it squeeze through his cock like toothpaste, depositing directly against what must be my cervix. It's so thick it doesn't flow, just sits there like a plug, sealing everything inside. "There we go," he sighs with satisfaction. "Properly bred." He pulls out slowly, and the wet *SSSSCHLOOOOOOORP* of exit makes me want to die. My pussy, gaped and ruined, immediately starts belching out overflow. Not dripping. GUSHING. Thick ropes of yellowed cum splurt from my hole in rhythm with my heartbeat. *BLORT... BLORT... BLORT...* (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/2 cum.jpg","left")But most of it stays inside. I can feel it, dense and warm and strong, packed into my womb like caulk in a crack. Already doing its work. Already rewriting what I am. "Hmm," Snib says thoughtfully, still standing on my ass. "Missed a spot." I hear him grunt, then feel something hot and wet splatter across my back. Another rope of cum, this one painting a line from my ass up my spine. It lands with a heavy SPLAT, then another across my shoulders, and then- *SPLAT* Right across my face. The rope hits my forehead with actual WEIGHT, a warm, heavy line that sags into my eyebrow, slides down the bridge of my nose, and the tail end swings into my open mouth like a pendulum finding rest. It sits on my tongue, thick as rendered fat, and I feel individual LUMPS in it before the taste registers. Like licking a fish market floor mixed with cheese that's gone liquid in the sun. Something pops between my teeth, a clot, firm as a pea, bursting sour. I spit and spit but it coats my tongue like oil. "Perfect," he says, finally climbing down. My legs give out immediately. I collapse into the puddle of cum and squirt I've made, feeling more goblin semen burble out of my pussy as I fall. It pools around my hips, thick and warm and stinking. "Ye know what this means, right?" Snib walks around to face me, his cock still dripping. "That much gobbo cum, straight in yer womb? Yer definitely pregnant. Probably with triplets, way I flooded ye." He grabs my hair, lifts my cum-covered face, and wipes his cock clean on my cheek. The casual dominance of it, using my face as a rag, breaks something in me. "Welcome to yer new life, cow-tits. Gonna be squirtin' out green babies in a few month-gobbo babies grow fast." He stretches, balls swinging freely, then walks behind me. I hear him grunt again, and then- *PSSSSSSSSSSSSS* Hot piss splashes across my ass, washing away the external cum but doing nothing about the gallons packed inside me. The stream is thick and yellow, steaming in the cool air, marking me like an animal marks territory. "Mine now," he says simply, shaking the last drops onto my back. "Bred and marked. Proper gobbo property." He leaves me there, face down in mud made from dirt and cum and piss, womb packed with goblin semen, pussy still weakly gushing overflow. My mind can't process it. Aldric the Great, hero of Eboncrest, just got bred by a three-foot goblin. (hidden_gem:"The cum inside me settles with finality, like cement setting in a mold.","The cum inside congeals with cruel finality, like cement meticulously setting in my molded, manufactured womb.") Pregnant. I'm going to be pregnant with goblin babies. The thought makes me retch. But my pussy clenches, squeezing out another glob of cum with a wet *BLORT*.] (simple_option:"02 bad end","Months later...")

(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/3 resist.jpg") (if:$choice is "Stay silent and glare.")[($play:"sex loop","sex no moan")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.48,"peakTo",0.58,"baseFrom",0.07,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",600,"intervalTo",420,"attackMs",34,"sustainMs",58,"releaseMs",90,"rampBeats",26,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.24,"depthJitter",0.10))I stay silent and glare up at him, jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache. "Ooh, scary face from me cock-cushion!" He grins wider, that massive green shaft with its bruised-purple head still notched between my pussy lips. "Let's see how long that lasts." He pushes forward-not hard, just steady pressure. The head spreads my entrance like a fist forcing through a coinpurse. I feel every ridge, every wart, every throbbing vein as he feeds that log of meat back into me, inch by terrible inch. (hidden_gem:"My glare wavers as my pussy stretches around him like dough around a rolling pin.","My glare gutters and goes glassy as my gripping pussy stretches like dough around his dominant, driving pin.") "There it goes!" He cackles, watching my face. "The hero's mask crackin' already!" He's only halfway in but I already feel split open, reorganized around his thickness. My pussy clings to every bump and ridge like it's trying to memorize the shape. The fullness. Flux's balls, the FULLNESS. Like being stuffed with hot iron that pulses with its own heartbeat. Then he drops his full weight and SLAMS the rest home. *SPLORTCH!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:60,0.55),(a:130,0.62),(a:200,0.50),(a:280,0.40),(a:450,0.30),(a:650,0.22),(a:850,0.16),(a:1100,0.10),(a:1400,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) His hairy balls SMACK against my ass with a wet crack that echoes off the hut walls. The impact forces all the air from my lungs in a pathetic "HUNNH!" "Better!" He grabs my ankles-his hands barely wrap around them-and spreads my legs WIDE, forcing my knees toward my shoulders. The position makes my pussy gape even more around his base. "Now I can see everything jiggling!" He pulls back slowly, and I feel my insides trying to follow, clinging to his shaft like they don't want to let go. When just the head remains, stretching my entrance, he pauses. "Watch yer tits." Before I can process the warning, WHAM! He pile-drives down with his full weight.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.50,"peakTo",0.60,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",520,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",32,"sustainMs",50,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",22,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.08)) My spit-slick tits, still glazed with his drool, still bearing purple tooth-marks, fly up and the left one SMACKS me full in the face. The weight of it against my cheek, the wet heat of my own breast-flesh pressed over my mouth and nose, the goblin spit transferring to my skin. I taste it. Onion-rot and my own honeyed sweat. They drop back, then fly up again as he finds his rhythm, and now BOTH hit me, one across each eye, warm dough slapping my face like I'm being smothered by my own body. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* "HAH! Gettin' slapped by yer own udders!" He leans forward, and suddenly his face is buried between them, his pot belly pressing against my mound. "Gonna use these as handles!" His hands grab the sides of my tits, fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh. He uses them for leverage, pulling himself deeper with each thrust. The angle changes everything-now his cock curves up inside me, dragging against something that makes stars explode behind my eyes. I try to maintain the glare but my eyes keep rolling back. Try to keep my mouth closed but gasps keep escaping. The fullness is everything. Like he's rearranging my guts to make room. Like my body is just a sheath he's breaking in. "Look at me." His voice drops to something darker. "LOOK at who owns ye." I force my eyes to focus on his face. Those yellow eyes boring into mine, pupils dilated with lust. His mouth hangs open, black tongue lolling out, dripping spit onto my tits. His expression is pure animal satisfaction-a predator that's caught its prey and is savoring every moment of consumption. "That's it. Watch while I ruin ye." He changes rhythm. Three quick rabbit-thrusts then one DEEP grind. "Watch while gobbo cock rewrites yer insides." *plipplipplip-GRIIIND* The grinding is worse than the thrusting. I can feel him stirring inside me like a spoon in honey, his cock head mashing against my deepest parts. My legs shake in his grip. That pressure is building again, that terrible warm weight in my belly. Suddenly he hawks back and SPITS. The glob of yellow-green phlegm lands directly in my open mouth. Thick, warm, tasting of rot and onions. I try to spit it out but he clamps his hand over my mouth. "Swallow." The collar pulses. A warning. I swallow his spit. Feel it slide down my throat like a slug.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:200,0.16),(a:500,0.12),(a:800,0.06),(a:1100,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) "Good cow! Yer learnin'!" He goes back to pounding, each thrust making wet SQUELCH-PLAP sounds. "Know what yer pussy feels like? Cock-polisher. All them ridges inside, scrubbin' me clean!" He's right. I can feel every fold of my insides gripping him, massaging his shaft whether I want to or not. My body has become a tool for his pleasure. "Gonna tell ye a secret." He leans close, his breath hot on my face. "Yer pussy? It's changin'. Adaptin'. Learnin' the shape of gobbo cock." He demonstrates with a particularly brutal thrust that makes my whole body jolt. "Soon it won't fit nothin' else. Just gobbo. Just mine." "You're-HNNH-lying-" "Collar won't let me lie direct." He grins wider. "Yer cunt's already feelin' different'. Tighter here-" thrust "-looser here-" grind "-perfect gobbo-sleeve." He releases my legs and they fall to either side, spread wide. Now he can lean fully forward, his whole weight on me. His face disappears into my cleavage again but this time he BITES down on the soft flesh between my tits, not hard enough to break skin but enough to leave marks. "MMMMPH!" He motorboats between them while still pounding, making disgusting BRRRRRR sounds mixed with the PLAP-PLAP-PLAP of his balls on my ass. When he emerges, his face is flushed green-dark, eyes wild. "Here, let me help!" He grabs my tits and pushes them together around his face, using them like pillows while he fucks me. His tongue drags across whatever flesh he can reach-long, rough licks that leave trails of thick spit. The position means his pubic bone grinds against my clit with each thrust. That bundle of nerves I didn't know existed as a man, now sending lightning through my whole body. The pressure builds faster, hotter. "No no no-" I pant, but it comes out muffled by my own tits pressed against my face by his grip. "Yes yes YES!" He mocks. "The hero's hungry fuck-hole wants to cum!" He pulls my tits apart and they SLAP back together with a wet clap. Then he does something worse-he starts varying his rhythm. Two slow, one fast. Then five fast, one slow. Then grinding circles. My body can't predict it, can't prepare, just has to take whatever he gives. "This is what ye are now." He punctuates each word with a thrust. "Gobbo. Cock. Holster." *SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.* "Yer throat?" *THRUST* "Cock-sheath." "Yer tits?" *SLAM* "Fuck-handles." "Yer whole body?" He grinds deep, stirring. "Breeding furniture." The mental image-me reduced to an object, a thing with convenient holes-somehow makes my pussy clench harder around him. "OH! She likes that!" He feels the squeeze. "The hero wants to be furniture!" "I don't-FUCK-want-" He cuts me off by leaning down and dragging his tongue from my chin to my forehead in one long, slow lick. His spit is thick, viscous, cooling immediately in the air. I can feel it on my face like a snail trail of ownership. "Liar." He grins down at me, tongue still hanging out, dripping. "Yer cunt's tellin' the truth even if yer mouth won't." He's right. My pussy is GUSHING around him, each thrust accompanied by obscene wet sounds. SQUELCH-SQUISH-SQUELCH. Like someone stomping through a marsh. "Listen to it!" He slows down just to emphasize the sounds. "That's yer hungry hero-hole beggin' for gobbo babies!" The slow pace is torture. I can feel every inch sliding in and out, my walls clinging desperately. The fullness, then the emptiness, then the fullness again. My hips start moving without permission, trying to match his rhythm. "There she goes!" He crows. "Pussy's takin' over! It knows what it needs!" He speeds up again, really HAMMERING now. His balls swing forward with such force they make drumbeat sounds against my ass. THWACK-THWACK-THWACK. The impact sends little shockwaves through my whole body. "Gonna mark ye," he pants, getting winded from the effort. "Gonna pump ye so full of cum ye'll taste it!" The threat should terrify me. Instead, that pressure in my belly coils tighter. My legs wrap around his small body without my permission, heels locking above his ass. The metal boots CLANG together. "Look at that! Leggin' me like a proper whore!" He reaches back and SLAPS my thigh. "The hero wants her breedin'!" My tits have found their own rhythm now-figure-eights when he thrusts straight, circular when he grinds, flying up to hit my face when he SLAMS deep. They're like separate creatures, responding to his movements. "Bet yer wife would cry if she saw ye like this," he pants, sweat dripping from his warty forehead onto my chest. "Legs spread, pussy drippin', eyes rolled back like a breeding mare." "Don't-mention-her-" "Why? Worried she'd be disgusted?" He leans close, his breath hot on my ear. "Or worried she'd be jealous ye never made her feel like this?" The words hit like physical blows because there's truth in them. I never made Elara feel anything like this. This overwhelmed. This completely owned. But that's because we were, we ARE, in a loving- "There it is!" He must see something in my face. "The realization! Ye LIKE being the one gettin' fucked!" "NO!" "Yes! The great Aldric likes havin' his cunt stuffed!" He reaches between us and finds my clit again. Just a brush of his thumb but it's like lightning. "AHHHHH!" "There's the button!" He presses harder, rubbing circles while still pounding. "The hero's cum-button!" My whole body draws tight, muscles locking, back arching off the ground. "That's it!" He speeds up everything-thrusts, circles, degradation. "Cum for me, hero! Show me what ye really are! Cream on the cock of something ye stepped on!" I'm right there. Right on the edge. My pussy is clenching in waves, trying to milk him. My mouth opens to scream and- He leans down and LICKS my entire face again, from chin to hairline, his tongue rough and wet and disgusting.](else-if:$choice is "Please... no more...")[($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.48,"peakTo",0.60,"baseFrom",0.07,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",580,"intervalTo",400,"attackMs",34,"sustainMs",55,"releaseMs",88,"rampBeats",24,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.24,"depthJitter",0.10))"Please... no more..." The words barely escape my lips before he RAMS forward, spearing me completely in one brutal thrust that punches the air from my lungs. "GAAAHHH!" My back arches off the dirt floor as he hilts himself, his hairy sack SMACKING against my ass with a wet *THWAP*. The impact sends my tits-still glazed with his thick spit-flying up into my face. They hit with enough force to make my teeth click, leaving trails of goblin saliva across my cheeks before dropping back down. "There we go!" He grabs my thighs, forcing them wider, spreading me like a wishbone about to snap.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.50,"peakTo",0.62,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",360,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",48,"releaseMs",78,"rampBeats",20,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.08)) "Now I can watch yer face while I breed ye proper!" (hidden_gem:"His yellow eyes bore into mine like rusty nails.","His yellow eyes yank and yoke into mine like yellowed, yawning nails.") From this angle I can see everything-his warty green face twisted in a broken-glass grin, that nasty tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, dripping thick ropes of spit onto my bouncing tits. His pot belly presses against my mound with each thrust, the coarse hair on it scratching my sensitive skin. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* He starts a steady rhythm, pulling almost completely out before SLAMMING back down. Each impact makes my whole body jolt upward, tits flying in chaotic patterns-sometimes circling like stirred porridge, sometimes colliding in the middle with meaty CLAPs, sometimes shooting straight up to slap me in the face again. "Look at me." His voice drops to a growl. "LOOK AT ME while I rut ye!" I can't help it. My eyes lock with his-those piss-yellow orbs that have probably watched other human women get bred. There's intelligence there now, the collar's gift, but underneath is pure animal instinct. The need to breed. To conquer. To plant his seed in the conquered hero's womb. "That's it." He grins wider, showing all those broken teeth. "Watch while a gobbo makes ye his bitch. Watch while somethin' ye used to step on OWNS yer cunt." He shifts angle, pushing my knees back toward my chest. The position makes me even more helpless, completely open, my pussy lips stretched obscenely around his green shaft. I can see it disappearing into me with each thrust-that massive thing that shouldn't fit, that's reshaping my insides to accommodate it. "Ye feel that?" He grinds his hips in circles, stirring his cock inside me like he's churning butter. "That's yer womb kissin' my cockhead. Beggin' for gobbo babies." I try to look away but he grabs my chin with one warty hand, forcing me to maintain eye contact. His thumb hooks into my mouth, pressing down on my tongue. The taste-onions and cock-sweat-makes me gag. "Nah nah, keep watchin'. Want ye to see who's breeding ye." He pulls his thumb out and SPITS. A thick yellow glob lands directly on my face, sliding down my cheek. Before I can react, he's grabbed both my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. His grip is iron-how is something so small so strong? "Know what we do in the wild?" He leans down, his breath hot and fetid on my face. "When we catch a female?" *SLAM-SLAM-SLAM* His thrusts get harder, more violent. My tits are completely out of control now, swinging in wild figure-eights, the spit making them glisten in the dim light. The bite marks he left are turning purple, throbbing with each impact. "We mark 'em." He bites down on my neck, HARD. His teeth break skin and I scream. "We fuck 'em till they can't walk." Another bite, lower, on my collarbone. "Then we breed 'em till they forget they were ever anything else." His free hand grabs my left tit, SQUEEZING so hard I see stars. He's not gentle-he's mauling it, twisting the nipple, using it like a handle to pull himself deeper. "Feel that, hero?" He's panting now, his tongue hanging out, dripping spit onto my face with each word. "Feel yer body learning what it's for? Not for swingin' swords. For takin' cock. For making babies." The pressure is building again. That terrible, wonderful pressure that starts in my toes and climbs like rising flood water. My pussy is clenching around him in waves, trying to milk him even as my mind screams resistance. "Yer cunt's suckin' me." He laughs, that wet phlegmy sound. "Like a mouth tryin' to swallow. Hungry little hero-hole wants its meal." He releases my wrists and grabs both my ankles, pushing them back until my knees are by my ears. The position is impossible-I'm completely folded in half, my pussy pointed straight up like an offering to dark gods. He's standing now, using gravity to drive down into me. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* His balls swing forward and SMACK into the crease where my ass meets my thighs, so much ass that it cushions the impact, the cheeks spread wide by my position, soft flesh rippling outward in waves from each collision. I can feel my own ass jiggling against the dirt floor, hear the wet slap of sweat-soaked cheek-meat, feel the way gravity pools it around me like warm dough. The sound fills the hut: ball-slap layered over ass-clap layered over the obscene SQUELCH of my pussy being reshaped. "This is how we breed difficult ones." He's grunting with effort now, sweat dripping from his warty nose onto my stomach. I look down and see my stomach bulging slightly with each thrust. His cock is so deep it's visible through my skin, a moving lump that appears and disappears. The sight makes something in my brain short-circuit. "No no no NO-" But he just grins wider, his yellow eyes gleaming with triumph. He SPITS again, this time directly into my open mouth. I try to spit it back but he covers my mouth with his hand, forcing me to swallow his thick, sour saliva. "Get used to gobbo flavors. Gonna be tastin' nothin' but gobbo from now on." He's fucking me like he's trying to split me in half. My vision is going white at the edges. That pressure is at critical mass, about to explode. My legs shake uncontrollably. My pussy spasms around his cock in pre-orgasmic warnings. He must feel it because he leans down again, his face inches from mine. I can see every wart, every boil, smell every bit of his rotten breath. "Go on then." His voice drops to a whisper. "Cum on the cock of somethin' ye wanted ta kill. Show me what Aldric the Great really is-just another cunt that creams for gobbo dick." The words hit like physical blows. Every goblin I've killed. Every raid I've stopped. Every woman I've rescued from exactly this fate. And here I am, about to- His tongue suddenly drags across my face, from chin to forehead, leaving a trail of thick saliva. The sensation, the degradation, the sheer wrongness of this tiny creature OWNING me-](else:)[($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.46,"peakTo",0.58,"baseFrom",0.07,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",600,"intervalTo",400,"attackMs",34,"sustainMs",55,"releaseMs",88,"rampBeats",24,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.24,"depthJitter",0.10))"I... I won't cum. I WON'T!" The words tear from my throat, raw with fury. I glare up at this diseased creature perched between my spread thighs, his purple-headed breeding pole notched against my entrance like a battering ram at castle gates. "HAHA! Still barkin' like ye got teeth!" He SLAMS forward. (hidden_gem:"My pussy parts around him like soft butter around a hot knife.","My pussy parts and pools around him like butter beneath a blazing blade.") The invasion punches air from my lungs.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.70),(a:60,0.54),(a:120,0.60),(a:180,0.48),(a:250,0.38),(a:420,0.28),(a:600,0.20),(a:800,0.14),(a:1000,0.08),(a:1200,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) Every ridge, every wart, every throbbing vein carves through my walls as he hilts himself with one brutal drop of his hips. His hairy sack SMACKS against my ass with enough force to leave marks. "There's me favorite sheath!" He grins down at me, yellow eyes gleaming with malice. "Feel how yer cunt sucks me in? Like it was molded for gobbo cock!" I try to maintain my glare, but his weight presses against my mound, grinding with each thrust. Flux's balls, that POT BELLY. His face is level with my tits, these spit-slick mountains that still bear his teeth marks. As he pulls back and RAMS home again, they swing up like wrecking balls. *WHAP!* My own tit slaps me in the face. The impact leaves a wet streak of his saliva across my cheek-onion-rot mixed with the sweet perfume of my own betraying flesh. "HAH! Smacked by yer own udder!" He grabs both tits, using them as handholds while he ruts.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.48,"peakTo",0.60,"baseFrom",0.07,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",520,"intervalTo",360,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",48,"releaseMs",78,"rampBeats",22,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.08)) "Milk-handles for proper breedin'!" His rhythm changes-three quick rabbit-thrusts then one DEEP grind that makes me see stars. My legs are splayed wide, heel-boots pointing at the ceiling while this creature that barely reaches my chest cavity raids my insides. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-GRIIIIIND* "Feel that?" He looks up at me from between my tits, his face twisted in a leer that shows every broken tooth. "That's me cock kissin' yer baby-door. Knockin' to plant green seed in hero-dirt." I try to respond but he suddenly LUNGES forward, his face burying between my breasts while his hips piston. His tongue-rough as tree bark-drags across my cleavage, gathering the pooled sweat there. "Tastes like..." *SLAM* "...flowers and..." *SLAM* "...fear-sweat!" *SLAM* Each thrust makes my whole body jolt upward, tits bouncing in different directions-sometimes figure-eights, sometimes opposing circles, sometimes both flying up to frame his leering face. He watches them move with the fascination of a child with a new toy. "Gonna make these feed a whole generation," he grunts, biting down on my left nipple hard enough to make me cry out. "Dozen pups hangin' off while I pump another dozen into this greedy goblin-socket!" The angle-Eon help me, the angle. His cock curves up inside me, dragging against something that makes lightning shoot through my spine. My pussy CLENCHES around him involuntarily, trying to milk him like my body knows its purpose better than my mind. "There it is!" He releases my nipple with a wet POP. "Feel that hungry squeeze? That's yer cunt beggin' for gobbo babies!" He suddenly HAWKS and SPITS, a thick yellow glob that lands on my lower lip and slides into my open mouth, catching on a strand of black hair stuck to my cheek on its way down. The taste, rotted onions mixed with infection, hits my tongue at the same time the hair does, and I gag on both, his phlegm and my own beauty tangled together in my throat. "Swallow." I shake my head violently but his cock GRINDS deeper, stirring my insides like a mortar and pestle. "Swallow me gift or I visit yer wife tomorrow." I swallow. I don't know why. That threat didn't make ANY sense. But for some reason, for a split-second, I bought it. The thick phlegm slides down my throat like a slug. "Good cow!" He rewards me by changing his angle, making his cock drag against that spot that-NO. I won't. I WON'T. But my body is already responding. That terrible pressure building again, twice as fast as before. My thighs shake. My pussy ripples around him in waves. "Look at me." His voice drops to something predatory. "LOOK at who's breedin' ye." I force my eyes open. His face is inches from mine now, having crawled up my body while staying buried inside me. Yellow eyes with pupils like goat slits. Skin like pond scum, glistening with sweat. That broken-glass grin spreading wider as he watches my face contort. "This is what's gonna father yer children." He emphasizes each word with a thrust. "This. Ugly. Gobbo. Face." His tongue suddenly extends-longer than should be possible-and drags from my chin to my forehead in one wet stripe. The smell of his breath, battlefield latrines mixed with rotted meat, fills my nostrils. "Yer cock-polishers are perfect," he says, grinding in circles. "These pussy lips? Made to shine gobbo meat. This whole body? Just a fuck-glove for me to wear." He demonstrates by pulling almost completely out, just the fat purple head spreading my entrance, then SLAMMING home with his full weight. *SPLORTCH* The sound my pussy makes, wet, eager, obscene, echoes in the hut. I'm so wet that each thrust sends little sprays of my shame splashing against his thighs. "Listen to that sloppy hero-hole singin'!" He starts a brutal pace, his balls creating a steady drumbeat against my ass. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* "Know what that sound is? That's nature sayin' ye belong under goblins!" My vision is going white at the edges. That pressure has become unbearable, a dam about to burst. My pussy is clenching so hard around him I can feel every ridge, every wart, every pulse of his veins. "Gonna-gonna cum, ain't ye?" He grins wider, his hips becoming a blur. "Can't fight it. Can't fight what ye ARE. Just another breedin'-hole that needed green cock to teach it!" "I-I won't-FUCK-" He suddenly grabs my throat with one hand, my hair with the other, forcing me to maintain eye contact as he RAILS into me. His face is pure animal triumph, tongue lolling out, drooling onto my cheek. "Cum for yer master. Show me what Aldric becomes with real cock inside!" The pressure CRESTS- He LICKS me. His whole tongue across my face, from jaw to temple, leaving a trail of thick saliva that reeks of decay.] (simple_option:"02 orgasm","Freeze in shock.","Bite his tongue.")

($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$choice is "Freeze in shock.")[(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.52,"peakTo",0.58,"baseFrom",0.05,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",460,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",48,"releaseMs",75,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.26,"depthJitter",0.10))(playwhenread:"elise doggy orgasm",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.58),(a:400,0.70),(a:800,0.65),(a:1200,0.78),(a:1600,0.72),(a:2000,0.82),(a:2400,0.75),(a:2800,0.88),(a:3200,0.80),(a:3600,0.92),(a:4000,0.85),(a:4400,0.98),(a:4800,0.90),(a:5200,1.0),(a:5600,0.92),(a:6000,0.95),(a:6400,0.85),(a:6800,0.88),(a:7200,0.78),(a:7600,0.80),(a:8000,0.68),(a:8400,0.62),(a:8800,0.52),(a:9200,0.42),(a:9800,0.32),(a:10400,0.22),(a:11200,0.12),(a:12000,0))))His tongue, that wet slug of decay across my face, freezes me completely. The violation of it, the STENCH of rotted meat painting my cheek, makes every muscle lock. My guard drops for one heartbeat. That's all he needs. His cock FLEXES inside me, swelling thicker, and something deep in my guts just gives up. "AAAAAHHHHHNNNNNGGGHHHH!" The sound tears from my throat. Not a scream, not a moan, but something animal and broken. My pussy CLAMPS around him like a fist, rippling from entrance to depths in waves that feel like my insides are trying to swallow him whole. "THERE IT IS!" Snib howls, grinding his hips in victory circles. "HERO-CUNT CUMMIN' ON GOBBO MEAT!" (change_stat:"heroism",-15)(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/3 orgasm.jpg") My back arches so hard I lift us both off the ground. My vision goes white-hot-bright as every nerve from scalp to toes fires at once. It's like being struck by lightning from inside, starting in my pussy and EXPLODING outward through my whole body. *SQUIRRRRRT-SPLURRRT-SQUIRRRRRT*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:280,0.28),(a:560,0.65),(a:840,0.24),(a:1120,0.58),(a:1400,0.20),(a:1680,0.50),(a:1960,0.16),(a:2240,0.42),(a:2520,0.12),(a:2800,0.32),(a:3080,0.08),(a:3400,0)))) (hidden_gem:"Streams of clear defeat arc through the air like shameful fountains.","Streams of shimmering shame spray skyward in surrender's sloppy salute.") The first jet shoots out around his cock, painting a line up my own stomach, between my tits, across my face. Hot and thick like I'm pissing my dignity away. I can SEE it arcing through the air, crystal streams of pure humiliation splashing back down on my bouncing tits.(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 1") "LOOK AT YE PISSIN' YERSELF!" Snib cackles, SLAMMING deeper. "SQUIRTIN' LIKE A BROKE FOUNTAIN!" My pussy won't stop clenching, milking, SUCKING at his cock like it's trying to pull him deeper. Each squeeze sends another jet shooting out, *SPLURRRT-GUSH-SPLURRRT*, painting his belly, my thighs, the floor. The metal bikini top CLANGS as my tits bounce so hard they escape the triangles completely, nipples dragging across my own face. "GNNNAAAHHHH! HAAAHHHHNNN!" The sounds coming from me aren't human. High-pitched squeals mixed with guttural groans as my body convulses. My heels scrape against the floor, metal SHRIEKING as my legs try to close but can't because he's BURIED between them, his pot belly grinding against my clit with each thrust. "Aldric the Great!" He yanks my hair, forcing me to look at him through my orgasm. "CUMMIN' ON MY COCK!" My pussy responds with another violent squeeze, another arc of squirt that hits me in the face. I taste myself-salt-sweet defeat on my lips. My ass lifts completely off the floor, SLAPPING back down with a meaty THUD that makes everything jiggle. The orgasm won't END. It keeps rolling through me in waves, each one making my pussy grip him tighter. I feel every ridge, every wart, every throbbing vein as my walls memorize his shape. My womb. Something deep inside is ACHING, pulsing, trying to open- (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","left","My womb. He's in my womb.")*POP*(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.88),(a:80,0.95),(a:200,0.90),(a:400,0.78),(a:700,0.70),(a:1000,0.66),(a:1400,0.70),(a:1800,0.64),(a:2200,0.68),(a:2600,0.62),(a:3000,0.58),(a:3500,0.55),(a:4000,0.52),(a:5000,0.50)))) "AAAIIIIIEEEEEE!" A ring of muscle I didn't know I had STRETCHES around his flared cockhead. I feel it opening, resisting, then surrendering with a wet *POP* that I hear through my own bones. He's THROUGH. Past the last gate. The head swells on the other side like a fist clenching inside a glove, and suddenly every sensation triples because the walls in there are paper-thin and screaming with nerves that have never been touched. "HAHA! IN YER BABY-ROOM NOW!" Snib grunts, grinding against walls so sensitive I feel his HEARTBEAT through them. The sensation. Flux's balls, it's like he's INSIDE my stomach but lower, deeper. My pussy is still cumming, still squeezing, but now there's this deeper ache, this hollow NEED where his cockhead has lodged somewhere it shouldn't be. "Feel that?" He grins down at me, my squirt still dripping from his chest. "That's me cock in yer womb. Where Aldric's GOBBO BABIES will grow!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.56,"amplitude",0.12,"periodMs",1800,"forever",true))](else-if:$choice is "Bite his tongue.")[(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.50,"peakTo",0.58,"baseFrom",0.05,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",480,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",48,"releaseMs",78,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.26,"depthJitter",0.10))I BITE down on his tongue-HARD. He doesn't pull back. His yellow goat-eyes GLEAM with triumph as I sink my teeth into the rough muscle. Copper fills my mouth-his blood, green and bitter-but he just grins wider and pushes his tongue DEEPER, licking the inside of my mouth while I bite him. "Mmmph-that's it, hero-taste yer master-" The violation of it, his tongue exploring my mouth while I'm trying to hurt him, breaks something. That dam I've been holding back with pure will just gives. My pussy CLAMPS around his cock like a fist. Not the controlled squeeze from before. This is my body SEIZING, every muscle from my toes to my scalp locking up as liquid lightning shoots through my spine.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.62),(a:350,0.72),(a:700,0.68),(a:1050,0.80),(a:1400,0.75),(a:1750,0.86),(a:2100,0.80),(a:2450,0.92),(a:2800,0.85),(a:3150,0.96),(a:3500,0.90),(a:3850,1.0),(a:4200,0.92),(a:4550,0.96),(a:4900,0.85),(a:5250,0.88),(a:5600,0.78),(a:5950,0.80),(a:6300,0.68),(a:6650,0.70),(a:7000,0.58),(a:7400,0.48),(a:7800,0.38),(a:8200,0.28),(a:8700,0.18),(a:9200,0.10),(a:9800,0)))) "HNNNNGAAAAAAHHHHH!" (change_stat:"heroism",-15)(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/3 orgasm.jpg") The sound tears from my throat. Not a scream, not a moan, but something animal. My mouth falls open, releasing his bloodied tongue as my eyes roll back. I can feel them rolling, showing whites, my face contorting into that slack-jawed expression I've seen on breeding mares. My cunt starts MILKING him, rippling from entrance to deepest point in waves that I can't control. Each squeeze makes wet SQUELCH-SQUELCH sounds as I grip his cock like I'm trying to wring it dry. "THERE'S the cum-face!" Snib crows, grinding deeper. "Look at them eyes rollin'! Just like a cow gettin' bred!" (hidden_gem:"My whole body convulses in surrender, every muscle spasming.","My whole body breaks and bucks in brutal, blissful surrender, muscles mashing and spasming.")(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 1") Then I feel it. Pressure building in my belly, but wrong, like I need to piss but MORE. Before I can process it- *SPLOOOOOOORT*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.70),(a:280,0.26),(a:560,0.62),(a:840,0.22),(a:1120,0.55),(a:1400,0.18),(a:1680,0.48),(a:1960,0.14),(a:2240,0.40),(a:2520,0.10),(a:2800,0.30),(a:3080,0.06),(a:3400,0)))) A hot jet of clear fluid ERUPTS from around his cock, arcing up between us. It splashes across my own tits, my face, dripping into my open mouth. I taste myself. Salt-sweet shame, woman-brine, the flavor of defeat. "Look at that hero-juice fly!" Snib laughs, continuing to pound. *SPLURT-SPLURT-SPLURT* More jets with each thrust. They spray everywhere-painting his green belly, soaking the dirt floor, making obscene puddles. My pussy won't stop GUSHING, like he's pumping it out of me with his cock. My ass lifts completely off the ground with each orgasmic spasm, then SLAPS back down into the puddle I'm creating. *THUD-SQUIRT-THUD-SQUIRT* "Been holdin' that in all day, eh?" He grabs my hair at the roots, YANKING my head up to face him. "All that fight just made more juice to squeeze out!" The orgasm won't stop. It keeps rolling through me in waves, each one making me squirt again. My thighs shake so hard they SLAP together around his hips. My pussy clenches and releases, clenches and releases, like it's trying to suck him deeper- And then- (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","left","My womb. He's in my womb.")*POP*(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.88),(a:80,0.95),(a:200,0.90),(a:400,0.78),(a:700,0.70),(a:1000,0.66),(a:1400,0.70),(a:1800,0.64),(a:2200,0.68),(a:2600,0.62),(a:3000,0.58),(a:3500,0.55),(a:4000,0.52),(a:5000,0.50)))) Something gives way inside me. His cock suddenly drops an inch deeper, through some barrier I didn't know existed. The sensation is WRONG. Too deep, too invasive, like he's pushed through into my guts. "AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!" This scream is different. Higher. Broken. The feeling of him THAT DEEP makes every nerve ending fire at once. My squirting becomes violent. SPLOOOOOSH. "Feel that?" Snib grinds his hips, stirring his cock in this new depth. "That's me cockhead in yer baby-room! Pushed right through!" Baby room? He means-oh Flux, oh no- "Womb-deep now!" He pulls my hair harder, forcing me to look at where we're joined.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.56,"amplitude",0.12,"periodMs",1800,"forever",true)) "See how yer belly bulges? That's me cock in yer egg-basket!" I can SEE it. A slight rise in my lower belly that moves when he does. He's so deep inside me that he's making my skin tent outward. The sight of it. This goblin's cock visibly distorting my body from within. Another orgasm crashes through me. This one's different. Deeper, starting from where his cockhead presses against what must be the back wall of my womb. It feels like drowning from the inside out. "Gonna paint yer eggs green," he grunts, his rhythm getting erratic. "Gonna flood this hero-womb with gobbo cream!"] (simple_option:"02 final breeding","'No! Not inside! Please!'","Moan incoherently.","Try to push him off.")

(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/precum.jpg","right","Even goblin precum can get you pregnant.")($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")(if:$choice is "'No! Not inside! Please!'")[(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.52,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",2000,"forever",true))"No! Not inside! Please!" The words tear from my throat but they're pathetic, breathy, the aftershocks of my orgasm still making my pussy ripple around him. "Heh... squirted like a broke water barrel." His yellow eyes gleam down at me, his weight pressing my tits flat against my ribs. "Now MY turn to squirt." Something changes in his face. His broken-glass grin stretches wider, tongue lolling out. A strand of drool lands on my cheek. His breathing gets deeper, rougher. Like a boar about to rut. "Ngh-" A grunt. Low. From his chest. Then I feel it. His cock, buried so deep in my womb it's making my belly bulge, starts to flex. No, SWELL. Like it's getting even thicker inside me. "HRRNGH!" Another grunt, louder. His clawed fingers dig into my thighs, spreading them wider. My heel-boots dangle uselessly in the air, metal scraping against nothing. A pulse. Through his cock. I FEEL it travel from base to tip, a bulge moving through the shaft that's splitting me open. Then- Warmth. Deep inside. Deeper than should be possible. A spreading heat in my belly, behind my navel, where his cockhead is lodged in my womb. "GAAAHHH-TAKE IT-" He's squealing now, high-pitched goblin pleasure. "TAKE ME FIRST BATCH!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:1500,0.47),(a:3000,0.52),(a:4500,0.57),(a:6000,0.60),(a:7500,0.62),(a:9000,0.60),(a:10500,0.57),(a:12000,0.52),(a:14000,0.44),(a:16000,0.36),(a:18000,0.28),(a:20000,0.20),(a:22000,0.12),(a:24000,0.06),(a:26000,0)))) Another pulse. Stronger. The warmth becomes a flood. Something thick, viscous, is being pumped directly into-oh Flux. Oh no. He's- (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary creampie.jpg") (sperm:"GLORRRRP",6,"splurt 1")I hear the sound of something thick forcing its way into me. Feel it spreading, filling space that shouldn't exist. My lower belly starts to feel... tight? Full? "Look down, cow!" He grabs my hair, forces my head up. "Watch yer belly grow!" I can see it. Where his cock enters me, my lower stomach is starting to round. Just slightly. A small dome forming as he pumps- *SPLURRRRRT* "SQUEEEEE!" His pleasure-squeal is inhuman. "Breeding the hero! BREEDING ALDRIC'S CUNT!" The stuff inside me-it's HOT. Hotter than blood. And thick, so thick I can feel its weight settling in my womb like molten lead. With each pulse of his cock, more floods in. (sperm:"GLORP-GLORP-GLORP",4,"splurt 8")"Can't-" I try to close my legs but physically CAN'T. The pressure in my womb, the way it's expanding, has spread my hips from the inside. "Too full-" "Never too full for gobbo cream!" He grinds deeper, stirring the mess inside me. "Gonna pack ye tight as a festival sausage!" The smell hits me as the first overflow happens. His cum-because that's what this is, goblin cum pumping directly into my womb-has a reek like spoiled milk mixed with the tannery vats. It's backing up, having nowhere else to go, starting to leak out around his cock. (sperm:"SPLOOOOORCH",4,"splurt 2")A wet explosion as pressure gives. Suddenly thick, chunky fluid is spurting out around where we're joined, painting my inner thighs with heat. It's not liquid. It's more like porridge. Custard. But CHUNKY, with clots that stick to my skin. "Seven..." He's counting. Counting his spurts. "Eight... NINE..." Each number comes with another injection. I can feel individual ropes of it traveling through his cock, bulging the shaft, before splashing into my already-stuffed womb. My belly is visibly distended now, a small pregnancy already. "Please-" I don't know what I'm begging for. It's too late. I'm being bred. "Ten... eleven... TWELVE! GRAAAHHH!" (hidden_gem:"His final spurts feel endless, drowning my insides.","His final spurts flood forever, filling and flooding my feverish, fertile insides.") He collapses on top of me, his full weight pressing down, his warty cheek nestled between my tits. My hair is everywhere: fanned across the dirt like a black funeral shroud, tangled around his clawed fingers, stuck to my sweaty breasts in wet strands that cross my nipples like dark ribbons. His cock still pulses inside me, each twitch depositing more heat into my stuffed womb. The weight of what he's pumped into me settles like hot gravy in my guts, and when I breathe, I feel it SLOSH. Then he pulls out.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:300,0.42),(a:600,0.30),(a:1000,0.20),(a:1500,0.12),(a:2000,0.06),(a:2500,0)))) (sperm:"SCHLOOOOOOOOOORP",5)The sound is obscene. His cock emerges glazed with white-yellow sludge, strings of it connecting us that stretch three feet before snapping. The moment he's out, my pussy-that violated, gaped hole-starts vomiting his load. (sperm:"BLORT-BLORT-BLORT",3,"splurt 4")Chunky waves of goblin cum pour from me, but my womb stays full. Sealed somehow. The overflow runs down my ass crack, pools under me, glues my cheeks to the floor with sticky heat. The smell is overwhelming-like cheese left in summer sun mixed with something chemical, something bleachy. "One more for good luck!" He's still cumming. His cock, free in the air, flexes one final time- (sperm:"SPLURRRRRRRRRT",2)A rope as thick as my thumb arcs through the air, spiraling across both my tits before overshooting, splattering the floor behind my head. It lands with enough force to make a sound-SPLAT-steaming in the cool air. I try to close my legs. My knees come together but my thighs WON'T. There's a ball of heat in my pelvis forcing them apart from inside, like someone wedged a melon between my hip bones. The cum has WEIGHT. It shifts when I move, sloshing audibly, pressing outward against muscles that have never held anything before. My pussy keeps trying to seal itself shut but it can't, too stretched, too used, and each weak clench pushes out another chunky glob that goes *PLOP* onto the puddle between my thighs. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary wrecked.jpg") "There we go." He wipes his cock on my face, the head leaving a snail-trail of cum from jaw to forehead. "Properly bred. Gobbo-owned inside and out." The stories. Oh Eon, the stories about women taken by goblin raiders. Always pregnant. ALWAYS. Their seed is too strong, too virile. One load is enough for triplets. And I just took... how much? It feels like a full ale-skin sloshing in my womb. "Know what the best part is?" He stands over me, his cock finally softening but still dripping. "Usually I take a nice victory piss on a freshly-bred cunt. Mark me territory proper." I tense. "But ye lasted so long..." He scratches his balls thoughtfully. "Maybe ye really were a hero once. So I'll piss in the bucket instead." He waddles to the corner, and I hear the splash of him relieving himself, the satisfied grunt as he "clears the tube" after breeding. Something shifts inside me. Not the cum settling. Something else. A warmth that's different from the heat of his seed. Deeper. More focused. Like a match being struck in a dark room, a single point of fire behind my navel that wasn't there a moment ago. My hand goes to my belly without permission. Under the cum-slick skin, under the slight swell of his deposit, something is already HAPPENING. I can feel it the way you feel a storm coming: pressure change, electrical charge, the certainty that what comes next cannot be stopped. I'm pregnant. Not maybe. Not probably. My womb knows. This body built for breeding has caught on the first try, and the spark of new life, green, wrong, HIS, is already dividing in my depths. My life as Aldric is over.](else-if:$choice is "Moan incoherently.")[(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.52,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",2000,"forever",true))I try to speak, to curse him, to beg, to say SOMETHING, but with his cock pushed through into my womb, my mouth won't work right. "Nnnngh-gahhhh-hahhhn-" The sounds pour out of me, wet and broken. Not words. Just noise. Animal noise. "Listen to that!" Snib grins down at me, his yellow eyes gleaming. "The great hero's forgot how to talk! Just moanin' like a proper breeding-sow now!" His weight settles on me, pot belly pressing my mound, pinning me completely. I can see his face above mine-green, warty, gleaming with sweat that drips onto my cheeks. His cock flexes inside my womb and I feel it EVERYWHERE. A pulse that runs from my cervix to my teeth. "My turn to squirt," he says lazily, like we're having a conversation. "Gonna be a big one. Been savin' up all day watchin' them tits bounce." I feel it before I understand it-his balls lifting off the floor where they'd been resting against my ass. They pull up tight against his body with a wet *schlup* sound, the wrinkled skin drawing taut. His breathing changes, becomes deeper, more guttural. "Here it comes, cow..." The first pulse. His cock swells inside me-I feel it expand in my womb like a fist opening. Then- Warmth. Just warmth at first, spreading somewhere behind my belly button. Not painful, just wrong. Like soup being poured into a place food should never go. "Hnnngh-YEAH-" His voice cracks with pleasure. His hips grind against mine, stirring his cock in that too-deep place. I feel the second pulse. Stronger. More warmth, but now with weight to it. Something thick and heavy pooling in my core. "Breeding ye proper-FUCK-filling that hero-womb with gobbo-batter-"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:1500,0.47),(a:3000,0.52),(a:4500,0.57),(a:6000,0.60),(a:7500,0.62),(a:9000,0.60),(a:10500,0.57),(a:12000,0.52),(a:14000,0.44),(a:16000,0.36),(a:18000,0.28),(a:20000,0.20),(a:22000,0.12),(a:24000,0.06),(a:26000,0)))) My mouth falls open. "Gah-gahhh-nnnnooo-" Still can't make words. My brain knows I'm being inseminated but my mouth just makes these pathetic mewling sounds. My legs dangle uselessly in the air, the metal boots clanking softly as they sway. Third pulse. Fourth. Fifth. (sperm:"GLORP-GLORP-GLORP",7,"splurt 8")(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary creampie.jpg") Now I understand what's happening. He's not cumming like a man would, quick spurts and done. This is like he's slowly pissing inside me, but thicker. Each pulse is a lazy, heavy rope of something that feels like warm porridge being squeezed from a bag. "Feel that?" He's panting now, drooling onto my face. "That's me seed plantin' in yer egg-garden. Gonna grow a whole litter of-HNNGH-green babies in this belly-" (hidden_gem:"The stuff filling me is moving, writhing like it's alive.","The sludge stuffing me squirms and seethes, swimming like something sinisterly alive.") I can feel it now. Not just warmth but texture. Lumpy. Stringy. Like someone mixed cottage cheese with tree sap and heated it to fever-temperature. It's filling spaces I didn't know existed, backing up from my womb into places that burn. "So much-" He's gasping, his whole body shaking. "Been backed up for-FUCK-gonna give ye twins at least-maybe triplets-" My belly. I can SEE my belly starting to round. Just slightly, a soft curve where flat muscle used to be. He's pumping so much inside that I'm swelling with it. "Nnnghh-stuh-stop-" "Can't stop now!" He laughs, grinding deeper. "Balls ain't empty yet! Still got-HNNGH-still got more-" The tenth pulse. Fifteenth. I've lost count. Each one sends more of that vile warmth spreading through my core. It's so thick I can feel individual clumps sliding through my cervix, each one making my womb stretch a little more. Then, overflow. It has nowhere else to go. I feel it backing up, squirting out around his cock with wet SPLORCH sounds. Hot goblin seed running out of my pussy, down the crack of my ass, pooling under me in a spreading puddle. "Too much for ye?" He grins, still pulsing. "Little human womb can't hold all of Snib's nut? SHAMEFUL!" The smell hits me-like rotted fish mixed with the bleach they use to clean temple floors, underlaid with something fungal, alive. My eyes water. My stomach turns. But my pussy-that traitor hole-clenches around him, milking out more. "Look at that-" He grabs my hair, forces me to look down at where we're joined. "See yer belly? That's ME in there. My babies growin' already." I can see it. The slight bulge, the way my skin moves when he shifts. But worse, I can see the cum. Thick yellowish-white sludge oozing out around his still-buried cock, so viscous it stretches in ropes before breaking. Some of it has chunks, actual CHUNKS, like curdled milk. "And NOW-" He suddenly pulls out with a wet SCHLOOOORP. My cervix tries to close but it's too slow. I feel-and SEE-a huge glob of cum bubble out of my pussy and splatter onto the floor. "The finish!" (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary wrecked.jpg") His cock, still spurting, swings up. A massive rope of cum, thick as my finger, arcs through the air and SPLATS across both my tits. Then another, painting a line from my neck to my navel. The last few spurts are even thicker, landing on my face with weight like someone dropped warm pudding on me. I lie there, legs still spread, unable to close them. There's so much cum packed in my womb that my legs physically can't come together-like there's a ball of heated jelly in my core forcing them apart. "Hehehehe..." He's standing over me now, his cock finally softening, dripping the last drops onto my belly. "Look at ye. Bred proper. Can see me seed through yer skin almost." In the dim light, I can see my lower belly trembling. It moves when I breathe, sloshing. "Know what's happenin' right now?" He squats next to me, poking my cum-swollen belly. "Million little swimmers racin' for yer eggs. Probably already found 'em. Yer gonna be a mother, hero. A mother to GOBLINS." The horror of it crashes over me. The stories. The warnings. No woman filled with this much goblin seed has ever NOT gotten pregnant. Usually with multiples. My womb is literally STUFFED with hypervirile monster cum. "Ye know..." He stands, walks to the corner. I hear him pissing into a bucket, the stream heavy and satisfied. "Usually I take a nice victory piss on a freshly bred bitch. Mark me territory proper. But ye lasted so long..." He looks back at me over his shoulder. "Maybe ye really were a hero once. So I'll give ye that-no piss. Just cum." He shakes off the last drops, his cock making wet slapping sounds against his thigh. "Welcome to yer new life, Elise. Gobbo breeding-stock." I try to close my legs again. Can't. The cum inside has formed a solid mass, pressing outward. I'm going to be pregnant. I know it with horrible certainty. Aldric the Great is going to birth goblins.](else:)[(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.52,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",2000,"forever",true))My hands fly to his chest, trying to push him back, but the moment I strain against him- "AAAHHH!" Pain shoots through my core. His cockhead. It's STUCK. Lodged deep in that forbidden space, swollen like a fist that won't release. When I try to push him away, it PULLS at something inside that makes white spots dance across my vision. "HAHA! Stupid cow!" He grins down at me, yellow eyes gleaming. "Don't ye know? When gobbo cock goes womb-deep, it LOCKS! Like dogs knottin'! Try to pull me out now and ye'll rip yer baby-bag right out with it!" Terror floods through me. I'm TRAPPED. Pinned beneath this diseased creature with his breeding pole locked inside my deepest parts. My heels scrape uselessly against the floor, *SCREEE-CLACK-SCREEE*, trying to find purchase to escape, but every movement just makes his cock shift inside my womb, sending wrong-wrong-WRONG sensations through my guts. "Now it's MY turn to squirt," he grunts, his face twisting with pleasure. "Gonna fill this hero-hole with gobbo-goop. Gonna drown them eggs in green baby-batter!" I feel it before I understand it. His balls drawing up tight against my ass, lifting slightly off the floor as they contract. The shaft inside me starts to pulse, actually PULSE, like a second heartbeat buried in my guts. "Here it comes-HNNNGH!" His first grunt is guttural, animal. His whole body goes rigid on top of me, pot belly pressing down on my mound, his weight pinning me completely. Then I feel- Warmth. Deep inside. Deeper than anything should be. A spreading heat in that violated space behind my belly button. Not much at first, just warmth. (hidden_gem:"His cock flexes inside me and suddenly there's MORE warmth.","His cock convulses and contracts inside me, creating cascading, climbing warmth.") "GRAHHHH! Take it! TAKE ME SEED!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:1500,0.47),(a:3000,0.52),(a:4500,0.57),(a:6000,0.60),(a:7500,0.62),(a:9000,0.60),(a:10500,0.57),(a:12000,0.52),(a:14000,0.44),(a:16000,0.36),(a:18000,0.28),(a:20000,0.20),(a:22000,0.12),(a:24000,0.06),(a:26000,0)))) (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary creampie.jpg") The second pulse is stronger. I can actually FEEL the cum traveling up his shaft. A bulge that moves through my stretched pussy walls before- (sperm:"SPLORTCH",2)It erupts inside my womb. Not a spray but a GUSH. Thick, viscous, HOT. Hotter than blood. It coats my insides with slime that immediately starts to congeal, like porridge cooling in a pot. "Feel that?" He's panting, drooling on my face. "That's gobbo-cream! Thick as butter! Swimmin' with babies!" Another pulse. This one I can SEE. His cock visibly throbs where it enters me, the veins bulging. The warmth spreads, fills, begins to create pressure. My womb is small-never meant for this-and already it feels FULL. (sperm:"GLORP-GLORP-GLORP",3)"Listen to it!" He squeals with glee. "Hear me balls emptyin'? That's the sound of yer future! Green babies! Dozens of 'em!" The pressure builds. I can feel my womb stretching, accommodating. There's nowhere for it to go-his cockhead is corked inside like a bottle stopper, keeping every drop trapped. The fullness becomes pain becomes something else. A horrible awareness of being STUFFED. "STOP! It's too much-I can't-" "Can't what? Can't hold all me nut?" He grinds his hips, stirring the cum inside me. "Yer womb's gonna learn. Gonna stretch nice and wide for gobbo-loads!" I look down. There's a dome forming in my lower belly, small but VISIBLE, and I can feel it from inside like a water balloon being filled in my guts. The skin is taut over it, shiny with sweat, and when he pumps another rope in I watch it GROW. My womb stretches to hold what it's being given, and the stretch sends this deep, dull ache through my pelvis, like period cramps described to me by my wife. Now I understand. Now I'm living it, watching my own belly swell with monster seed. (sperm:"SPLORTCH-GLORP-SPLORTCH",2)The sounds are obscene. Wet. Chunky. Like someone pouring thick stew into a too-small pot. I can feel individual CLOTS of thicker cum pushing through his cockhead, plopping into my womb like pearls of congealed cream. "Packed tight as a sausage!" He crows, watching my belly. "Look at that little bump! That's me batter! That's gobbo-juice makin' ye a mommy!" The smell hits me as some begins to leak around his shaft-bleach mixed with rotted fish mixed with something fungal, something ALIVE. It's so strong my eyes water. The heat of it burns without burning, like holding snow too long. His claws dig into my thighs, spreading them wider as he GRUNTS again. Another massive pulse. This one forces cum to leak around his shaft-not much, just droplets, but I feel them running down the crack of my ass, thick and stringy like molten cheese. "Can't even close yer legs now!" He laughs, and he's RIGHT. The fullness in my womb makes my thighs naturally splay outward. If I try to bring them together, it presses on that cum-bloated organ and sends wrong signals through my body. "Gonna waddle bow-legged from now on! Full of gobbo-spunk!" My pussy makes horrible sounds around his cock-SQUELCH-GLORP-SPLUTTER-as it tries to accommodate both his girth and the backup of cum. Some spurts out with each pulse, painting my inner thighs with ropes of off-white sludge that immediately starts to cool and congeal. "All those years killin' goblins," he grunts, still cumming, still filling. "Now yer gonna BIRTH 'em! Ain't that perfect? Hero becomes brood-sow!" (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/missionary wrecked.jpg") I try to respond but another pulse-the biggest yet-makes me arch off the ground. It's like someone injecting porridge directly into my organs. The pressure is immense. My lower belly visibly shifts as the cum finds every space, fills every fold of my womb. "Almost done," he pants, his whole body shaking. "Just... HNNGH... few more... SPURTS!" The final ejaculations are different. Thicker, chunkier. I can feel solid CLOTS pushing through, like cottage cheese forced through a tube. They plop into my already-full womb with sounds I can somehow HEAR from inside-PLOP-PLOP-GLOP. Then, finally, he stops. We lay there panting. Him on top of me, still locked inside. Me spread beneath him, womb stuffed with what feels like a gallon of goblin cum. I can feel it MOVING inside me. Not flowing, but writhing. Like it's alive. Like it's seeking. "Feel 'em swimmin'?" He grins down at me. "Gobbo-sperm don't just swim-they HUNT. Right now they're racin' for yer eggs. Fightin' each other to knock ye up proper." He starts to pull out. The sensation is horrifying-his cockhead deflating, changing shape as it releases its lock on my womb. There's a wet SHHHHHLORP as the seal breaks, and suddenly- (sperm:"SPLOOOOOSH",4)Cum GUSHES from my pussy. Not all of it, most stays trapped deep inside, but enough pours out to make obscene puddles between my legs. It's thick, ropey, CHUNKY with those cottage cheese clots. The smell intensifies. Concentrated bleach-rot that makes me gag. "Perfect cream-pie," Snib observes, standing over me. My legs are still splayed, unable to close. Cum continues to leak in thick globs-PLOP... PLOP... PLOP. "Usually I take a nice victory piss on a freshly bred bitch, but..." He scratches his balls thoughtfully. "Ye lasted longer than most. Maybe ye really were a hero once." He waddles to a bucket in the corner, his cock still dripping. The sound of his piss hitting tin echoes through the hut-SPLASSSSSSHHHHH-as he sighs with satisfaction. "Ahhh, always gotta clear the tube after a good breeding!" I lay there, defeated. Cum cooling on my thighs, in my ass crack, pooling beneath me. But worse is what's still inside-that hot, writhing mass of goblin seed that even now is seeking, hunting, CLAIMING. I know the stories. Every woman taken by goblins. Always pregnant. Always. There's no way I'm not carrying his spawn now. The thought makes me want to scream, but all that comes out is a broken whimper as more cum GLOPS from my destroyed pussy.] (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/impregnated.jpg","I know the stories. Every woman taken by goblins. Always pregnant. Always.") (change_stat:"heroism",-15)(simple_option:"02 bad end","The months pass by...")

The fish bones lie scattered across his filthy floor, the remnants of the meal I cooked on his dented pot over a fire that filled this hovel with smoke. My hands. These soft, small hands that once wielded Whisperwind gutted fish and fed them to this creature. He ate with his mouth open, belching, grease running down his chin, while I sat in the corner trying not to gag from the stench of his home: old cum, rotting meat, and something fungal growing in the corners. Now he's sprawled on his pile of furs, patting his distended belly. The loincloth barely contains what's beneath, the outline obscene in the flickering firelight. "Time for dessert," he says, then laughs at his own wit. "Strip. Want somethin' nice to look at while ye work." (hidden_gem:"My hands freeze on the metal clasps.","My fingers freeze, faltering on the freezing metal clasps.") "I don't-we agreed just-" "Just suckin', yeah. But I want them udders free. Want to see 'em hang while ye polish me knob." He scratches lazily at the bulge. "Consider it part of the deal." I'm Aldric. I've stood before kings. Commanded armies. Saved villages. My hands shouldn't shake as they reach behind my back for the clasps. Shouldn't fumble with metal designed to humiliate. But they do. (pic:"ch02/bad end/undress.jpg","I'm Aldric. I've stood before kings. Commanded armies. Saved villages.") The triangles fall away with a soft *clink*.(playwhenread:"jingle") My breasts drop free like sacks of grain cut loose from rafters. The weight makes me gasp-without even that pathetic support, they hang so heavy my shoulders immediately ache. In the firelight, the red marks from the metal are visible: angry crescents bitten into flesh that's pale as fresh cream. My nipples, freed from their prison, are already puckering in the cool air. "Look at them things," Snib breathes. I cover myself instinctively but he tsks. "Hands down. Let 'em swing." My arms drop. The tits follow gravity, hanging like overripe fruit. I can feel his yellow eyes tracking every sway. "Now the bottom." The thong peels away from my hips with a wet sound that makes me want to die. Strings of moisture stretch and snap. The air hits my pussy and I feel it contract, that hollow ache suddenly acute. I'm bare. Completely naked before this thing that should be crushed under my boot. (pic:"ch02/bad end/thong off.jpg","The air hits my pussy and I feel it contract, that hollow ache suddenly acute.") "On yer knees, Lady Udders." The nickname hits like a slap. But I drop. The packed dirt floor is hard under my knees. From here, his cock is eye level where it tents his loincloth. The smell. Eon preserve me, the smell. He shifts, spreading his legs wider. The loincloth falls aside. It's not all purple like I'd glimpsed before. The shaft is green, darker than his skin, mottled with veins thick as quill-stems that pulse visibly with his heartbeat. But the head. The head is purple-black like a bruise, swollen huge, the hole at the tip already weeping thick white tears that gather but don't fall, building into a growing pearl of concentrated filth. "Never seen one up close?" He grips the base, making it bob. It's the size of my forearm. My old forearm. The foreskin is partially pulled back, revealing the ridge where green meets purple, crusty with something I don't want to know. White-yellow buildup that reeks even from here. "Come closer, Throatsy." Another name. I shuffle forward on my knees and my tits swing with the motion, slapping together softly. From barely a foot away, the heat radiating from his cock is palpable. Like it has its own climate. The precum pearl finally breaks its own surface tension and begins a slow slide down the purple head, leaving a snail-trail that glistens. "Open." One word. My mouth opens. Like it was waiting for permission. The fog in my head thickens. "Good cow. Now stick out yer tongue." My tongue extends. Pink, soft, trembling. He laughs and guides his cock forward with one hand, the other tangling in my hair. The first contact- (pic:"ch02/bad end/first taste.jpg","gif","Bitter. Salt. Rot. Cheese. Metal. All at once, coating my tongue with oil-thick fluid that burns like acid.")(playwhenread:"let your mouth learn",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:400,0.15),(a:800,0.22),(a:1200,0.18),(a:1600,0.24),(a:2000,0.20),(a:2400,0.15),(a:2800,0.10),(a:3200,0)))) "That's it," he grunts. "Taste it first. Let yer mouth learn what it's for." The precum floods my tongue immediately. Not drips. A steady weeping like the cock is crying onto my tastebuds. Each pulse of his heartbeat produces more. It's thick as porridge but somehow also liquid, running down my tongue toward my throat despite my efforts to keep it pooled at the front. "Now the head. Lips around it. Like kissin' a baby." I want to pull back. Want to run. But the collar is there, always there, and beyond that my thoughts keep scattering. What was I angry about? The taste is so strong it whites out everything else. My lips part wider and then- The head pushes past them. Purple-black cock-head the size of a small apple spreading my lips obscenely wide. The ridge catches on them, too thick, and he has to push harder. Something tears. Not badly, just a little split in my lower lip that immediately stings from his precum. "There we go! Look at them hero-lips stretched around gobbo cock!"(playwhenread:"look at them hero lips",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:200,0.22),(a:400,0.30),(a:600,0.35),(a:800,0.32),(a:1000,0.28),(a:1300,0.25),(a:1600,0.22),(a:2000,0.20)))) Tears stream from my eyes immediately. Not from emotion. From the sheer effort of accommodating something this thick. My jaw aches already. But worse is the flood. The second the head passes my lips, it's like a dam breaks. Precum doesn't drip or leak. It SPURTS. Rope after rope coats my mouth, pooling under my tongue, filling my cheeks. I try not to swallow. Try to breathe through my nose but that's worse. The concentrated stench makes my head spin, makes my pussy clench. No. Ignore that. Ignore the wetness running down my thighs.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:300,0.06),(a:700,0.10),(a:1100,0.14),(a:1500,0.10),(a:1900,0.06),(a:2300,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) "Use yer tongue, Sucky-tits. Polish the head." My tongue moves. I don't tell it to, it just does. Swirling around the massive head, finding the hole that keeps pumping fluid. The taste changes. Still vile but now with undertones. Something yeasty. Something alive. My throat makes a sound. Not quite a gag, not quite a moan. "That's it," he grunts, gripping my hair tighter. "Now take more." He pulls my head forward. Another inch of green shaft disappears. The veins drag against my lips, each ridge distinct. Two inches. Three. The head hits the back of my mouth and my throat closes instinctively. "Swallow," he commands. "Open that hero-throat." I try to pull back but his grip is iron. My tits hang below me, swaying with my struggles, nipples dragging in the dirt. Four inches. Five. The head presses against my throat entrance and then- I swallow. Not voluntarily. My throat just opens. Accepts. The head pushes through and suddenly I can't breathe at all. Six inches. Seven. My nose is getting closer to his pelvis where the smell is concentrated hell. "Look up at me. Want to see them pretty eyes." (hidden_gem:"My green eyes meet his yellow ones.","My matching moss-green eyes meet his mean yellow ones.") (pic:"ch02/bad end/stretch throat.jpg","right","gif","I look up. Past the expanse of green cock disappearing into my face.")I look up. Past the expanse of green cock disappearing into my face. Past his pot belly. To those yellow eyes bright with malicious joy.(playwhenread:"deepthroat bj",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.25),(a:500,0.30),(a:1000,0.35),(a:1500,0.38),(a:2000,0.42),(a:2500,0.44),(a:3000,0.42),(a:3500,0.40),(a:4000,0.38),(a:5000,0.35)))) "There she is," he coos. "Aldric the Great with eight inches of gobbo cock down her throat. How's it feel, hero?" I can't answer. Can't breathe. Can only make wet sounds as my throat tries to accommodate something never meant to fit. Precum pours directly into my stomach now, hot and thick, and I can feel it doing something. "Let's make it nine." He pulls my head forward again. My lips touch his pelvis. Wiry pubic hair scratches my nose. The smell, concentrated piss and fungus and male, floods my brain. Nine inches. Ten. How is this possible? My throat is bulging visibly. I can feel the outline through my neck when my hand goes there instinctively. "All the way, Gullet-slut. Show me what them hero-throats can do." (playwhenread:"deepthroat bj") The last two inches are impossible. But he pulls harder and my throat... stretches? Opens? I feel the head push past my collarbone, into my chest. Twelve inches of goblin cock buried in my face. My lips pressed against his pelvis. His massive balls resting on my chin, hot and heavy and churning with horrible life. "Now the milkin' motion," he instructs. "Squeeze with yer throat. Like swallowin' over and over." My throat convulses around him. Each swallow makes him grunt, makes more precum flood directly into my stomach. I'm drowning. Suffocating. But also the fog in my head is getting thicker. Warmer. Almost pleasant. What was I upset about? Something about... "Twenty swallows," he grunts. "Count 'em." One. My throat squeezes. He groans. Two. More precum floods me. Three. My pussy clenches in rhythm.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","rhythm","peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.30,"baseFrom",0.22,"baseTo",0.22,"intervalFrom",1200,"intervalTo",1200,"pulseMs",400,"forever",false,"beats",8)) Four. Tears and snot run down my face. Five. His balls tighten against my chin. By ten, black spots dance in my vision. By fifteen, I'm making sounds. Wet, desperate, animal sounds around his cock. By twenty, I'm barely conscious. He pulls out slow. Each inch reveals itself wet with throat-slime and precum. The head pops free from my lips with an obscene SLURP and I gasp, air flooding my burning lungs. Ropes of throat-slime mixed with precum connect my lips to his cock, refusing to break even when I pull back. "Good start," he says, guiding my head back down. "Now the proper suckin'."(playwhenread:"now the proper suckin",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.28,"peakTo",0.38,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",800,"intervalTo",550,"attackMs",60,"sustainMs",120,"releaseMs",100,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.10)) This time I know what's coming but it doesn't help. The head pushes past my lips easier-they're already swollen, already shaped to him. The rhythm establishes itself. Down to take eight inches, up to breathe, down to take ten, up to gasp. My tits swing beneath me with each motion, slapping together wetly. "Look at them udders dance," he laughs. "Swingin' while ye suck. This is what ye were made for, Throatsy. Not swords. Just succin' gobbo cock while them tits bounce." The humiliation should burn but something is making everything fuzzy. Distant. Like I'm watching someone else debase themselves. Some other woman with massive tits slobbering on goblin cock while tears stream down her face. His breathing gets heavier. The cock swells impossibly larger in my mouth. His balls draw up tight against my chin. (pic:"ch02/bad end/about to cum.jpg","The cock pulses. Swells. The head flares wider and then-") "Here it comes," he grunts. "Yer first taste of gobbo cream. Remember, cow-ye can spit it all out after. That was the deal." The cock pulses. Swells. The head flares wider and then- *Wait!* (simple_option:"02 bj 1 cum","Pull back!")

The first pulse makes his entire cock go rigid as iron. The head flares wider in my mouth. I can feel the pisshole dilating, opening like a tiny mouth about to scream.(playwhenread:"cum in mouth") I jerk back in panic but I'm not fast enough. The first rope. It starts in my mouth, hot as boiled porridge, thick as cake batter, then follows my retreat, extending from his cock like some horrible umbilical. The rope doesn't break, just keeps coming, pumping from that purple head in one continuous stream that drapes across my face as I fall backward. Heavy. So fucking heavy it actually PULLS as it lands, like someone poured hot pudding across my features. "GRAAAHHHHH! YELLAH-YELLAH-YELLAH!" (sperm:"SPLOORT",4,"splurt 2")(pic:"ch02/bad end/mouthful.jpg","right","It starts in my mouth, hot as boiled porridge, thick as cake batter...")He's screaming in Goblish, hips bucking off the furs. His balls-I can see them contracting, pumping, churning out their poison. The second rope comes while the first is still connected. This one catches me across both eyes, sealing them shut with weight and heat that burns like acid but doesn't damage, just marks. Claims. "HERO-CUNT PAINTED! PAINTED PROPER!" (hidden_gem:"The third rope arcs through firelight like a diseased comet.","The third rope rises through roaring firelight like a rancid, revolting comet.") It lands across my tits with an audible SPLAT-not liquid, almost solid, maintaining its rope-shape even as it drapes over my nipples. The weight of it makes my tits drop another inch. The smell, rotted fish guts mixed with cheese left in summer sun mixed with that chemical burn of concentrated masculinity, floods every sense. "Look at ye! LOOK AT YE! Aldric the Great with gobbo-glaze! HAH! HAH! HAH!"(playwhenread:"look at ye gobbo glaze") (change_stat:"heroism",-10)More ropes. They come lazy but heavy, each one a full second of continuous flow from that purple nightmare. Four across my nose and mouth-I can't breathe without tasting it. Five pools in the hollow of my throat. Six and seven create a crosshatch pattern across my tits, the weight making them pull and ache. His cock never stops moving, conducting his orgasm like a maestro's baton. Painting deliberate stripes across his masterpiece. My hair gets a full rope that immediately makes it stick to my skull. My belly receives two more that pool in my navel like a warm, cursed lake. "Grashk-na-THRAKKKK!" (pic:"ch02/bad end/faceful.jpg") (sperm:"SPLOOOOORT-SPLT SPLUURT!",4,"splurt 2")Pure Goblish now, no more Common tongue. Just chittering, grunting, squealing triumph as rope after rope of custard-thick seed decorates the fallen hero. Some shots have chunks in them-actual clotted pieces that land with heavier splats. Others are pure cream, yellow-white and reeking of concentrated corruption. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. (change_stat:"heroism",-10)(sperm:"SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT",2,"splurt 4")I lose count. My eyes are sealed shut by the sheer weight of it. When I try to breathe through my mouth, ropes slide in-salt and battery acid and yeast and something else, something that makes my brain feel like it's dissolving. Not thoughts but the STRUCTURE of thoughts, the architecture that holds Aldric together. The final rope, it has to be the twentieth at least, drops directly between my spread knees. A pool of it, steaming in the dirt, enough to fill a tankard. My pussy is RIGHT THERE, inches away, and I feel the heat radiating up, making that traitor hole clench and drool its own shame onto the puddle. Then silence except for his panting. "Open them eyes, cow." I try. The cum has formed a seal, gumming my lashes together. I have to use my fingers to peel them apart, and when I do- He's grinning down at me. His cock still hard, still drooling, a final strand connecting the tip to the pool between my legs. "That's what defeat looks like," he says simply. "That's Aldric the Great, ended. Just a cum-glazed cunt now." I stumble to my feet. Everything slides but doesn't fall. His seed is too thick, adhering like warm glue. My tits wear it like a necklace of pearls. My face feels like a mask of shame. When I try to speak, to curse him, a rope slides into my mouth and I taste concentrated goblin essence. Outside. The well I saw. I need water. (simple_option:"02 dream again","Stumble outside.")

(pic:"ch02/bad end/stumble to well.jpg") ($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert crickets")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",3000,"forever",true))The hide flap slaps my cum-glazed ass as I stumble out into the desert night. My spike-heels immediately sink into sand-*shhhk-shhhk*-and I pitch forward, massive tits swinging like temple bells coated in... Goblin seed. Still warm. Still MOVING. (hidden_gem:"The ropes slide down my body like living things, like white slugs made of shame.","The ropes writhe down my wrecked body like living, loathsome things, like white worms woven from shame.") I can feel it. Feel THEM. Millions of tiny swimmers still alive in the custard-thick glaze, trying to find something to fertilize. They're in my HAIR, making it stick to my skull in cum-mortared clumps. In my EYELASHES, gumming them together so I have to claw them open. A particularly heavy rope slides from my collarbone down between my tits with a sound like *shlooooorp*, pooling in my navel before overflowing down toward my- NO. No no no no- My pussy. My treacherous cunt clenches as the warm river approaches, and I SLAP my hand over it, but that just smears more of HIS ESSENCE into my palm. The smell. Rotted cheese mixed with battlefield latrines mixed with something FUNGAL, something that makes my vision shimmer. It's not just on me, it's IN me. In my nostrils where I inhaled his precum yesterday by accident. In my throat where I just... "There's a nice stack of straw waitin' for ye when ye come back!" Snib calls out, chortling behind me as I stumble toward the old well. My swollen lips feel like overripe fruit, bruised and thick from stretching around that purple, green THING. Eon's BONES. They try to form words but all that comes out is: "Gllllkk... hhhhkk..." There's still cum in my throat. I feel it. Thick pearls of it lodged behind my tonsils like oysters. When I cough, trying to expel it, a rope shoots from my mouth and splats onto my right tit, adding to the crosshatch pattern already painted there. The well. That ancient K'Tarran well I saw earlier, its runes glowing faint blue in moonlight. Just twenty feet but might as well be twenty leagues. First step: spike-heel SINKS into sand, ankle rolling. The motion makes everything on my body SHIFT. Cum sliding, relocating, finding new valleys to pool in. Some runs down my inner thigh and INTO my boot. I feel it squelch between my toes, warm and viscous. Second step: I'm crying. Not pretty tears but the ugly kind that come with snot, and the snot mixes with the cum on my upper lip creating this unholy mixture that tastes like- *Aldric would never-I'M Aldric-No, Elise-No, I'm-Who? WHO AM I?* (pic:"ch02/bad end/desert crawl.jpg") Third step: I trip. Fall forward. Catch myself on hands and knees in the sand, tits swinging down to SLAP the ground, cum splattering in droplets that catch moonlight like diseased stars. From behind I must look like what I am. A whore. A cock-socket. A throat-pussy that just serviced her master and- "FUCK!" The scream tears out, sending another glob of throat-cum onto the sand. "Flux dance on your corpse! Eon forget your fucking-Verge close all your-" There's a fog invading my mind. I can't think. Can't make the words line up. The taste. Ephemerals preserve me, the TASTE. Like someone boiled piss and added fish guts for texture. But under that, something worse. That CHEMICAL taste, that MALE taste that speaks directly to the womb I shouldn't have. Each breath through my nose brings more of his musk, and each breath through my mouth brings the flavor of what I just... what just happened in my... with my mouth... my hero's mouth that used to speak battle cries now knows the exact texture of goblin cock-veins. *Elara had red hair. No. Blonde? She had... she smelled like... like cum. NO. Bread. She smelled like bread. We were trying for... for goblin babies. NO. HUMAN. HUMAN BABIES.* (minigame:"02 wash up",6,"Try to reach the well!")

(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(pic:"ch02/bad end/desert collapse.jpg")(playwhenread:"fall sand") The sand beneath my knees is shifting. Or I'm shifting. Or the world is. *Get up. Get to the well. Wash this off. Wash HIM off.* My arms shake as I try to push up but they're noodles, overcooked pasta, can't support the weight of these udders that hang like-like what? My mind can't make comparisons anymore. Everything is just heavy. Wet. Dripping. I manage three more crawl-steps before my left arm gives out. The collapse happens in slow motion. My shoulder hits sand first, then my hip, and then, FLUX'S BURNING BALLS, my tits. The left one SLAMS into the sand, compressing like a wineskin, then the right one FLOPS over it with a meaty WHAP, the weight making me gasp. They're stacked now, the bottom one going numb from pressure while the top one slides off, dragging through sand that sticks to the cum-glaze. (hidden_gem:"My mouth opens to scream but more of his seed drools out like diseased honey.","My mouth moves to moan but more milky seed streams out like sour, diseased honey.") The world is spinning. No, my HEAD is spinning. Like I'm drunk but wrong, drunk on something that crawls through my sinuses and nests behind my eyes. Every breath brings more of his stench and every breath makes my thoughts more. More what? Sticky. Like the cum cooling on my skin, my thoughts are getting sticky, pulling apart in strings when I try to connect them. *Elara has... had... will have... brown hair? Red? The color of... of goblin cock? No. NO.* I try to roll onto my back but just succeed in smearing more of his essence into the sand. It's EVERYWHERE-between my fingers, under my nails, in the creases of my elbows. When I blink, I feel it on my eyelids. When I swallow, I taste it coating my throat like medicine. Like poison. Like something my body is starting to recognize. "Eon..." The prayer comes out slurred, drunk. "Eon re-remembers... remembers what? That I sucked... that Aldric sucked... who sucked?" My pussy, that empty, aching void, clenches on nothing. Clenches on air. Clenches like it's trying to grip something that should be there. Something purple. Something green. Something that would fill the hollow that's getting worse with each breath of pheromone-thick air. *Sleep. Just sleep. Dawn will fix this. Dawn always...* My eyes close. The last thing I see is a rope of cum sliding from my hair onto my cheek, warm as a kiss from the wrong mouth. (pic:"ch02/bad end/desert sleep bad.jpg") (simple_option:"02 desert dream","You drift into a dream...")](else:)[(pic:"ch02/bad end/desert ugh.jpg","right")I reach the well, sobbing so hard I can barely see through the tears and cum-seal on my eyes. The pump handle is ancient metal, K'Tarran runes etched deep but lifeless, just decoration now on this artifact that Snib probably pisses on when he's too lazy to walk further into the dunes. *CREAK-SQUEAL* The first pump barely moves-rusted, fighting me like everything else tonight. I have to put my whole weight on it, which makes my tits swing forward and a fresh rope of cooling goblin seed slides from my hair onto my face like the world's most degrading kiss. *CREAK-SQUEAL* Second pump. Water doesn't come yet. Just that metal-on-metal shriek while I sob harder, naked except for these fucking spike-heeled boots full of his cum squelching between my toes with each shift of weight. "Please-" I'm begging the well now, this ancient K'Tarran thing. "Please just-just give me-" *CREAK-SQUEAL-SPLASH*(playwhenread:"pump water") Water. Ice cold from deep underground. I cup it to my face but the cum doesn't WANT to leave. It's oil-thick, hydrophobic, beading up and rolling around like mercury made of shame. I scrub with my palms but that just spreads it into a thin film that somehow feels WORSE, like he's glazed my entire face in his essence. (hidden_gem:"The cum fights back, clinging like a jealous lover who won't let go.","The cum clings and clutches, clawing like a cruel lover who won't let go.") (pic:"ch02/bad end/pump water.jpg") I pump more water, splashing it over my tits where the crosshatch pattern has gone tacky. The cum doesn't wash away-it PEELS, coming off in sheets like dead skin, but underneath there's still a film, still that SMELL baked into my pores. A chunk of something, Flux's balls, an actual CHUNK of clotted sperm, falls from my hair and lands on my foot with a wet *plap*. "Get OFF!" I'm scrubbing frantically now, using sand from the ground as an abrasive. It works better but now I'm raw, my skin pink and angry where I've basically sanded myself like old furniture. The inside of my mouth is the worst. No amount of rinsing removes that coating on my teeth, that film on my gums. When I hawk and spit, it comes out pearlescent, swirled with white like cream in coffee. Twenty minutes of this. Thirty. Pumping and scrubbing and crying and gagging. By the end I'm cleaner. Not clean, I'll never be clean again, but the visible evidence is mostly gone. Just the smell that won't leave my nostrils, the taste that's soaked into my tongue like wine into wood. (pic:"ch02/bad end/desert wash.jpg") I can't go back in that hut. Can't lie on his straw with his stench all around me. I stumble to a dune, collapse in the sand. The stars wheel overhead, cold and distant as Eon's ledgers. No comfort there. No recognition that Aldric the Great just spent an hour scrubbing goblin cum from his body. Her body. MY body. (pic:"ch02/bad end/desert sleep.jpg") The sand is cold on my naked skin. The cleanup fight exhausted me more than any battle. My eyelids are so heavy... (simple_option:"02 desert dream","You dream...")]

(pic:"ch02/bad end/kneading.jpg","Elara in her morning dress, the white one with tiny flowers, humming as she kneads bread.") ($play:"ambience","nightmare")(if:$choice is "You drift into a dream...")[*The sunlit kitchen of our cottage. Elara in her morning dress, the white one with tiny flowers, humming as she kneads bread. Her hair catches light like spun copper. No, like autumn leaves. No, like... it keeps changing but she's beautiful, so beautiful it hurts.*(playwhenread:"desert dream 1") *"Elara!" I sob, rushing toward her, arms outstretched.* *She turns, smiling that smile that made me fall in love. "Oh, darling! There you are. I was just thinking about you."* *I reach for her but she steps back, graceful as always, one finger raised in gentle reproach.* *"Tsk, no no. Look at you." Her eyes travel down my naked, cum-stained body without judgment, just... assessment. "You can't touch me like that. You're all messy from your... work."* *"Work? Elara, I-"* *"Your important work," she continues, turning back to her bread. "Someone has to do it, after all. And you're getting so good at it! Just last night, you managed what-twelve inches?"* *The room tilts. This is wrong. This is-* *"Here," she says sweetly, gesturing to the wall. "Your next task is ready."* *A hole appears in our kitchen wall. Dark. Wet around the edges. And through it, pushing through like some horrible birth, comes a cock. Green shaft, purple head, already drooling thick precum that pools on our clean floor.* (pic:"ch02/bad end/gloryhole nightmare.jpg","gif","'It's drooling! You shouldn't let that fall, sweetness. It's wasteful.'") *"Look," Elara says, her voice still kind, still loving. "It's drooling! You shouldn't let that fall, sweetness. It's wasteful."* *"Elara, this isn't-"* *"On your knees, love." She doesn't look at me, just keeps kneading. "That's where you belong now, isn't it? Since you chose to cheat on me."* *The words hit like physical blows. I drop to my knees. Not by choice but like the floor sucked me down.* *"With a goblin," she continues conversationally. "A pathetic little three-foot goblin. After all my love, all our plans for children, you sucked a goblin's cock."* *"I had to! The collar-"* *"Open wide." Her voice is still sweet but there's steel under it now. "Show me what you learned. Show me what you chose over me."* *My mouth opens. The cock pushes forward, that familiar taste flooding back-rot and cheese and male musk. I gag but Elara tuts disapprovingly.*(playwhenread:"desert dream 3",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.12,"peakTo",0.22,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",800,"intervalTo",500,"attackMs",55,"sustainMs",80,"releaseMs",90,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.30)) (pic:"ch02/bad end/gloryhole bj.jpg","left","Like a good little cock-socket.")*"No no, relax your throat. You managed it yesterday, remember? All twelve inches. Like a good little cock-socket."* *The shaft pushes deeper. I can't breathe. Elara keeps talking, instructional now, like she's teaching me to bake.* *"Use your tongue on the underside, sweetheart. Right where the head meets the shaft. That's where they're most sensitive."* *My tongue finds the ridge, traces it. The cock pulses, flooding my mouth with precum.* *"Swallow," Elara instructs, her voice still kind but firm. "Don't let it pool. Swallow continuously. Like you're drinking my soup but it never ends."* *I swallow. And swallow. And swallow. The cock pushes deeper.* *"Now the important part," she continues, shaping the dough into a loaf. "You need to gag. They love the gagging. The throat spasms milk them better than any hand."* *The cock hits my throat entrance. I gag, eyes watering.* *"Harder," Elara says, not looking up. "Really retch on it. Make those awful sounds. GLURK-GLURK-GLURK."* *I gag harder, throat convulsing. The cock pushes through, sliding down my throat.* *"All the way," Elara's voice is changing, getting colder. "Every inch. That's all you're good for now, isn't it? You cheated on me. With a goblin."* *The cock is impossibly deep now, bulging my throat.* *"A pathetic little green creature," she continues, finally looking at me with eyes that aren't quite right-too yellow. "Three feet tall. Covered in warts. And you sucked his cock like a whore."* *Tears stream down my face as I gag, but I can't pull away. The cock owns my throat now.* *"This is what you are now," Elara says, her voice ice. "Not my husband. Not a hero. Just a throat for goblin cock. Look how well you take it. Like you were made for this."* *The cock starts thrusting. Brutal. Deep. My nose smashes against the wall with each thrust.* *"Sloppy," Elara critiques. "You need to be sloppier. More spit. Let it run down your chin, onto those udders. Yes, like that. Drool like the animal you are."* *I'm choking, gagging, drowning, but the cock just keeps pumping.* *"He's going to cum soon," Elara observes. "Remember to thank him. Thank him for using your hero throat. Thank him for the privilege."* *The cock swells-* (simple_option:"02 desert wake","Wake up.")](else:)[*Elara's in our kitchen at twilight, kneading dough with those strong hands I love. The sound of it, THWAP-fold-THWAP-fold, echoes off familiar walls. But there's something wrong with the wall behind her. A hole. About a foot and a half off the floor, edges smooth like it was always meant to be there.* *"Elara?" My voice is small. Female. Wrong.* *She doesn't turn. "Stay back. You're filthy."* *"But I washed-I cleaned it all off-"* *"You CHEATED on me!" She whirls, blue eyes blazing with light that isn't natural. "With a GOBLIN! They RAPE our women! They're stains! Little green STAINS on Eon's creation and you-you-"* *I try to stand but her flour-dusted hand plants on my head, forces me to my knees. The impact makes my tits bounce. When did I accept these as mine?* *"You know what they do to wives?" Her voice is ice. "They DELETE us. Overwrite us with their spawn. Was that the plan? Was I not ENOUGH? My womb not GOOD enough for the great hero's legacy?"* *"Elara please-"* *"WE were going to have a baby!" She's sobbing now but still kneading, violent strikes against the dough. "I thought-Flux's dance, I thought it would be with YOU! Your seed! Your child! Not some goblin's bastard growing where ours should be!"* *She points at the hole.* *From it, emerging like a terrible sunrise, comes a cock. Green shaft, purple head, already drooling. I know that cock. I know its taste.* (pic:"ch02/bad end/gloryhole nightmare.jpg","gif","' It's going to give you babies. Green babies.'") *"Kiss it," Elara commands, voice dead now. "Since you love it more than you love me. It's going to give you babies. Green babies. They'll tear their way out of you and you'll BEG for more because that's what goblin whores DO."* *"Elara-"* *"KISS. IT."* *She goes back to kneading. Won't look at me. I'm alone with the cock jutting from our kitchen wall, precum already forming that familiar pearl at the tip. My body, this traitorous body, is already backing toward it, ass rising, pussy drooling...* (simple_option:"02 desert wake","You wake up.")]

($play:"song",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")(notification:"Pheromone corruption has significantly altered your brain chemistry overnight...") ($play:"ambience","desert morning")(if:$choice is "Wake up.")[(pic:"ch02/bad end/desert morning cum.jpg") I wake gasping in the sand. Dawn. Pink sky. Cum dried on my skin in cracking yellowish sheets that pull when I move. My throat- "HKKKK-" I cough and something thick dislodges. Not fresh. Old. Fermented overnight in my throat into something worse. I spit and it's gray-yellow, chunky, reeking. The well. Right. I need to clean up for... For Snib. For my morning task. (hidden_gem:"The thought arrives pre-chewed, already soft and acceptable.","The thought trickles in pre-chewed, pre-chosen, already soft and acceptable.") (playwhenread:"pump water")(pic:"ch02/pump morning.jpg") I crawl to the well on hands and knees because standing seems impossible. My tits drag through sand, collecting grit that mixes with dried cum into an abrasive paste. Each pump of the handle, *CREEEAK-SQUEAK*, brings a trickle of water. I splash my face but the cum has bonded with my skin. Have to scrub with sand, turning my face raw and pink. The water is cold on my tits as I wash them, each handful making my nipples harder until they ache. Between my legs is worst. My pussy won't stop leaking, adding fresh moisture to the dried cum creating this unholy mixture that... *If I'm clean he won't take as long and then it's over quicker and-* These aren't my thoughts. Can't be. But they make sense. Sick sense.](else:)[(pic:"ch02/bad end/desert morning clean.jpg") I wake gasping, sand in my mouth, pussy clenched around nothing. Dawn. The first light turning the desert gold. Time for my morning service. The thought arrives with sickening clarity. Not from me. From the fog. From whatever his precum did to my brain. I HAVE to. The deal. Six more days. Just jerking-no, sucking. He wants sucking. But maybe... I stumble to my feet, sand cascading from my body. Everything aches. My throat feels raw, used. My jaw clicks when I open it too wide. But worse is the hollow ache between my legs, like something's missing, like I'm incomplete.] (simple_option:"02 hj 1 begin","Time for your morning 'task.'")

($play:"song","snib hut theme")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","desert morning")(pic:"ch02/bad end/morning cock.jpg","right","A bead of precum wells at the tip.")The hide flap of his hovel parts like diseased flesh as I duck inside. ($play:"ambience","desert morning")Dawn light barely penetrates this rot-cave he calls home. The stench hits first-like someone died fucking a cheese wheel in a tannery. My bare tits swing as I crouch through the entrance, nipples already puckering from... from the cold. Snib sprawls on his pile of stolen furs, one leg kicked out, snoring wetly. And there, rising from his groin like some cursed monument- His cock. (hidden_gem:"It stands perfectly vertical, a foot of diseased green meat aimed at the ceiling.","It stretches skyward, standing straight-a sickening foot of festering, foul green flesh focused at the filthy ceiling.") The morning light catches it wrong, makes it look alive. The shaft is mottled green like pond scum, darker at the base where wiry black hairs sprout in diseased clusters. Veins thick as quill stems rope around it, pulsing with each of his sleeping heartbeats. But the head. Eon's mercy, the head. Purple-black like a day-old bruise, swollen huge as my fist. A bead of precum wells at the tip. Not clear like human men. Thick, cloudy, yellow-tinged. It grows fat as a grape before its own weight makes it slide down. Slow. So slow I can watch its path, leaving a snail-trail that catches morning light. It reaches a vein, pools there, then continues its lazy journey toward his balls. Those balls. Twin sacks wrapped in wrinkled leather, each the size of a ripe apple. They rest heavy on the furs, visibly churning even as he sleeps. The hair on them is patchy, wiry, growing in random tufts like diseased grass. I can smell them from here-concentrated male musk mixed with things that died. I'm naked. When did I? Right. Last night. Now I'm crouched here with nothing but these thrakking spike-heels locked on my feet, my tits hanging free, approaching a sleeping goblin's erection like it's an altar I'm meant to worship at. *Seven days. Just seven mornings. Then freedom.* The thought sounds hollow. Like something I tell myself while my knees find the dirt floor, while these massive udders swing and settle, while I lean forward until his cock is inches from my face. This close, the heat radiating from it is palpable. Like it has its own fever. Another drop of precum forms, builds, slides. This one drips off entirely, landing on his thigh with an audible *plop*. My hand moves forward. These small, soft fingers that once held Whisperwind now reaching for this. *Don't think. Just get it over with.* (pic:"ch02/bad end/jerk.png","left","A bead of precum wells at the tip.")My fingers make contact. It's hot. Hotter than seems possible, like gripping iron left too long in sun. The skin is rougher than expected. Not smooth but textured with tiny bumps, ridges. Greasy. My hand comes away slightly sticky just from that brief touch. (hidden_gem:"I wrap my fingers around the shaft and they don't even meet.","I wind my weak fingers around the wretched shaft and they won't even weld shut-won't meet.") Thicker than my wrist. The weight of it surprises me as I lift slightly. Heavy as a club, but alive, pulsing against my palm. The veins throb. I feel his heartbeat through them, slow and steady.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:600,0.12),(a:1200,0.08),(a:1800,0.13),(a:2400,0.08),(a:3000,0.14),(a:3600,0.09),(a:4200,0.15),(a:4800,0.09)))) His snoring changes. Becomes grunts. His yellow eyes crack open, focusing slowly on the sight before him. Aldric the Great, naked on her knees, small hand wrapped around goblin cock. "Well well," his voice is morning-rough, pleased. "Look who came crawlin' for her breakfast." I jerk my hand back but he laughs. (playwhenread:"handjob",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.14,"peakTo",0.22,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",700,"intervalTo",500,"attackMs",70,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",20,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.08))"Nah nah, keep goin'. Ye came here all bare-titted and eager." His eyes drop to my chest, where my nipples have hardened into peaks that ache. "Didn't even wait for me to wake up proper. Eager little breakfast-slut." "I'm not-" My voice cracks. "We had a deal. Morning drainage. That's all." "With yer mouth, remember?" He stretches, making his cock bob. Another glob of precum wells up and drips. "But ye can warm it up with them soft little hands first. Get acquainted-like." My hand returns to his shaft. Wraps around. Squeezes slightly. "That's it," he grunts. "Like milkin' a cow, except ye're the cow and this here's the udder that matters." I start stroking. Mechanical. Just up and down. The foreskin slides over the head with a wet sound, *shlick-shlick*, catching on the ridge each time. More precum bubbles out, making everything slicker. The smell intensifies. Rot and musk and something chemical that makes my head swim. "Ye know what's funny?" He props himself up on his elbows, watching. "Ye stayed naked. Even yer own body knows what ye are now." I look down. He's right. The spike-heels are still locked on, forcing my legs into that position even while kneeling. My thighs spread wide for balance, and between them... No. Focus on the task. "Look at them tits sway," he continues. "Back and forth with each stroke. Like they're dancin' for me cock." Each pull on his shaft makes my whole body move, sets these awful weights swinging. My nipples brush the edge of his thigh with each forward motion. "Yer pussy's drooling too," he notes casually. "Can see it from here. All shiny and beggin'." "Shut up." But my voice has no strength. Because I can feel it. That warmth between my legs, that hollow ache that gets worse with each stroke of his cock.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:300,0.06),(a:700,0.12),(a:1100,0.16),(a:1500,0.12),(a:1900,0.08),(a:2300,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) "Angry little cow this morning," he laughs. "That's good." (simple_option:"02 hj 1","Angrily put your armor back on before continuing.","Just keep going.")

($play:"song","snib hut theme")(if:$choice is "Angrily put your armor back on before continuing.")["I'm not your fucking cow!" The words tear from my throat as I stumble to my feet, his cock slipping from my grip with a wet *schlick*. My armor lies in the corner where I discarded it-black scales gleaming with morning light. I storm over, spike-heels *CLACK-CLACK-CLACKING* against packed dirt, my bare ass bouncing with each angry step. "Hehe, there she goes," Snib chuckles behind me. "Jiggly little storm cloud." The metal triangles are cold as I fumble with them, trying to contain these ridiculous udders that swing and collide as I bend forward. The clasps hide under breast-flesh, making me lift each heavy tit to fasten them. The scales immediately bite into tender skin-I hadn't realized how raw I'd gotten overnight. *CLINK-clink-clink* as the chains settle between my breasts. The bottom piece is worse. I step into it, have to shimmy it up my thighs that are still... still damp. The metal thong immediately disappears between my ass cheeks with that awful *schwup* sound, riding up to bisect everything. "Feel better now?" Snib's still on his back, cock pointing at the ceiling like a green spear. "More dignified with yer tits wrapped up?" (pic:"ch02/bad end/unhappy.jpg") I storm back, metal singing with each step. Drop to my knees harder than necessary, making my barely-contained breasts bounce against their prison. His cock waits, a rope of precum connecting tip to belly now. (hidden_gem:"My hand wraps around it with newfound fury.","My furious fingers find and fiercely fist his fetid flesh.") "Just drain and be done," I mutter, beginning to stroke. Hard. Fast. No gentleness. "Oooh, angry tuggin'!" He laughs even as his breath hitches. "Like yer tryin' to rip it off! That's good, real good aggression." (playwhenread:"handjob",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.18,"peakTo",0.28,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",350,"attackMs",45,"sustainMs",30,"releaseMs",55,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.10))My fist pumps up and down, the foreskin making obscene wet sounds, *SHLICK-SHLICK-SHLICK*, as it slides over his purple head. Each stroke makes more precum bubble out, coating my fingers, making everything slippery and reeking. "This is day one," he grunts, hips starting to move. "So I'll be nice. Won't make ye use that pretty throat. But tomorrow..." I pump harder. Angrier. The motion makes my whole body move-tits bouncing in their metal cage, chains *clink-clink-clinking*, ass jiggling despite the thong's attempt at control. "Fuck, that's it," his voice getting rougher. "Look at ye-big hero milkin' goblin cock like ye were born for it." "Shut UP-" "Ye know what's funny?" He's panting now, cock swelling in my grip. "Yer doin' this. CHOOSIN' it. Could've said no, taken the consequences. But here ye are, first morning, already pumpin' away." My hand won't stop. Can't stop. The deal. Seven days. Freedom. His balls draw up tight, churning visibly. His cock pulses harder, the head flaring wider, darker.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.25),(a:400,0.30),(a:800,0.34),(a:1200,0.38),(a:1600,0.42),(a:2000,0.40),(a:2400,0.38),(a:2800,0.42),(a:3200,0.44),(a:3600,0.42)))) "Gonna... heh... gonna make me cum, cow-tits." There. A bucket. Wooden, stained, probably used for something I don't want to know. I grab it with my free hand, position it as his breathing gets ragged. "That's... that's smart," he gasps. "Don't want me cream on them nice scales, do ye?" I angle his cock down toward the bucket, have to lean over it, my face turned away. Won't watch. Won't give him that satisfaction. But I keep stroking, mechanical and rough, feeling his cock swell impossibly thicker. "Here it-GRAAAHHH!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.48),(a:100,0.20),(a:500,0.44),(a:600,0.18),(a:1100,0.40),(a:1200,0.16),(a:1800,0.36),(a:1900,0.14),(a:2600,0.32),(a:2700,0.12),(a:3400,0.28),(a:3500,0.10),(a:4200,0.22),(a:4300,0.08),(a:5000,0.16),(a:5100,0.06),(a:5800,0.10),(a:5900,0.04),(a:6500,0)))) The first rope. I don't see it but I HEAR it. (sperm:"SPLOOOOOORT!",3,"splurt 1")Like someone dumped a ladle of hot porridge from height. The sound of impact against wood, then the splash-pattern as it spreads. The heat. Flux's balls, the HEAT radiates up from the bucket, warming my hands, my face. Steam? Is his cum actually steaming? "KEEP PUMPIN'!" (pic:"ch02/bad end/jerk bucket.jpg") My hand continues its angry rhythm as the second rope- (sperm:"SPLORT-GLOP-SPLATTER",4,"splurt 4")Heavier. Thicker. I feel the vibration through his cock as it travels up the shaft, through the head, then that moment of release. Like a clogged pipe suddenly clearing. The bucket's getting heavier in my other hand. (hidden_gem:"My teeth sink into my lower lip hard enough to taste copper.","My teeth tear into my trembling lower lip, tasting copper through the shame.") (sperm:"GLOOP-SPLORT!",4,"splurt 5")"Look at it," he grunts. "LOOK AT YER WORK!" I won't. Keep my eyes fixed on the wall. But I can't escape the sounds-each rope landing wet and heavy, the way they don't pour but LAUNCH from his cock in pressurized spurts. Can't escape the smell-concentrated rot mixed with something fertile, something alive. (sperm:"SPLURCH-GLOP-GLOP",3,"splurt 6")The bucket's actually heavy now. How much can one creature produce? My hand is soaked. Not just with precum but with the splash-back, hot droplets hitting my wrist, my forearm. One lands on my thigh and it's like being marked with warm wax.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.16,"pulseMs",45,"count",1,"rest",0)) (sperm:"SPLURCH-GLOP-GLOP",4,"splurt 2")Each rope makes its own unique sound depending on where it lands in the growing pool. Some hit directly, a straight splatter. Others arc, creating a *splap-splap-splap* pattern. I can hear the consistency changing-thicker now, more like custard than porridge. My face burns. Not from the heat radiating from the bucket but from shame. I'm milking a goblin. Milking him like a cow, into a bucket, while wearing this ridiculous armor that barely contains my tits. (sperm:"SPLORT... SPLORT... SPLORT...",4,"splurt 3")Finally slowing. The pulses through his shaft weakening. The last few ropes barely clear the head, drooling down to add to the pool. I keep stroking until he grabs my wrist. "That's enough, unless ye want to start round two." I jerk my hand away. It's glazed with his precum and splash-back, sticky strands connecting my fingers. The bucket... I make the mistake of glancing down. It's almost full. The surface is uneven. Thick clumps floating in thinner liquid, all of it that sick yellow-white color. Still steaming. Still moving slightly, like it's alive. The smell makes my eyes water-concentrated essence of everything wrong with goblin-kind. "Good first day," Snib says lazily, cock still half-hard, still drooling. "Tomorrow we use yer throat proper. Maybe teach ye to say thank you after." (change_stat:"heroism",-5)I stumble to my feet, legs shaking. Need to wash. Need to get this off my hand. Need to- "Oh, and cow-tits?" He's grinning. "Ye got a little on yer lip there." My tongue darts out before I can stop it, tastes salt and battery acid and-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:200,0.18),(a:500,0.24),(a:800,0.28),(a:1200,0.24),(a:1600,0.18),(a:2000,0.12),(a:2500,0.06),(a:3000,0)))) No. NO.](else:)[(pic:"ch02/bad end/jerk naked.jpg","I keep my eyes fixed on the far wall, anywhere but at what my hand is doing.")(playwhenread:"handjob",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.14,"peakTo",0.24,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",680,"intervalTo",440,"attackMs",65,"sustainMs",35,"releaseMs",75,"rampBeats",22,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.08)) I keep my eyes fixed on the far wall, anywhere but at what my hand is doing. *Just friction. Just mechanical motion. Like churning butter. Like kneading dough.* (hidden_gem:"My fist slides up and down his diseased pole with wet sounds that echo in the morning stillness.","My fingers flow up and down his foul, festering fuckpole with wet whispers that wake the whole morning.") *Shlick-shlick-shlick.* Each stroke makes my tits sway beneath me. Heavy pendulums marking time until this is over. My nipples are so hard they hurt, dragging through the air with each forward lean. The position, on my knees beside him, leaning over to reach, makes my ass jut out, makes everything display itself. "Six more days after this," I mutter to myself. "Just six more mornings." "What's that, Udder-slut?" "Nothing." My hand speeds up. The faster I stroke, the sooner this ends. The sooner I can wash his stink off my palm. His cock is getting wetter. Each stroke brings more precum bubbling from the tip. Not drops now but a steady weeping that runs down to coat my fingers. The smell of it makes my eyes water. Like someone boiled piss and added fish guts. "Look at ye," he grunts. "The great hero, naked as a babe, tuggin' gobbo cock like it's what ye were born for." "Shut up." But my voice cracks. Because my pussy, that traitor hole, clenches with each stroke. Moisture runs down my inner thigh. Just sweat. Has to be sweat.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:400,0.08),(a:800,0.14),(a:1200,0.18),(a:1600,0.14),(a:2000,0.10),(a:2400,0.06),(a:2800,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) "Them soft hands know their job now," he continues. "Up and down, up and down. Natural as breathin'." *Shlick-SHLICK-shlick-SHLICK.* The rhythm is hypnotic. My hand moves without thought now, muscle memory taking over. Grip, pull, twist slightly at the head, slide back down. Veins pulse under my palm. His heartbeat accelerates.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.22,"peakTo",0.30,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",480,"intervalTo",360,"attackMs",55,"sustainMs",30,"releaseMs",65,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.18,"depthJitter",0.08)) "Ye're gettin' good at this," he observes. "Must be all that sword practice. Same motion, just different sword." I want to let go. Want to run. But the collar sits cold at my throat and beyond that there's something else. Something about finishing what I started. Some sick need to see this through. My hand speeds up again. His cock swells, the head going darker purple. The precum is constant now, making everything slippery. My whole hand is glazed with it, sticky and warm. "That's it," he grunts, his breathing getting heavier. "Milk it proper. Like ye mean it." I'm not looking but I can feel his eyes on me. On my swaying tits. On my spread thighs. On the shameful wetness between them. "Please just-" The words slip out before I can stop them. "Just finish. Please." "Beggin' now?" He laughs but it's strained. "Big hero's beggin' for gobbo cum?" His cock pulses harder. The veins are standing out like cords. His balls draw up tight.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:400,0.32),(a:800,0.36),(a:1200,0.40),(a:1600,0.44),(a:2000,0.42),(a:2400,0.44),(a:2800,0.46),(a:3200,0.44)))) I've seen this enough times with. No. Don't think about Elara. Don't think about morning intimacy in our marriage bed. This is different. This is- "Close," he grunts. "Yer gonna make me cum, cow-tits. Gonna make me paint ye pretty." His hips start moving, fucking up into my fist. The wet sounds get louder-*SHLICK-SHLICK-SHLICK*-and my tits bounce harder with the increased pace. "Look at me," he commands. I can't. Won't. "LOOK AT ME, CUNT!" My eyes snap to his against my will. Those yellow orbs bright with malicious pleasure. "Gonna cum on ye," he says simply. "Right on that pretty hero face." Before I can react, he's standing. My hand falls away as he rises, his cock now level with my face.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.44),(a:200,0.35),(a:400,0.25),(a:700,0.18),(a:1000,0.12),(a:1300,0.08),(a:1600,0)))) His fist replaces mine, pumping furiously. The purple head aims directly at me like a weapon. "W-wait-" "Nah, ye earned this. Stroke me so good, now ye get the reward." I should move. Should duck. Should do ANYTHING but kneel here frozen as his fist flies over his cock, as his balls contract, as that familiar tension builds- "Here it comes, Dame Cum-face! Take yer payment!" The head flares. The piss-slit dilates. Time slows as I watch it happen- (sperm:"SPLOOOOORT!",5,"splurt 1")The first rope launches like it was shot from a siege engine. It catches me across the bridge of my nose and extends over my left eye, hot as candle wax, thick as porridge. The weight of it, Flux's balls, the WEIGHT, actually pushes my head back slightly. My eye seals shut instantly under the warm, putrid blanket. "GRAAAH! TAKE IT!" (sperm:"SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT!",4,"splurt 3")Three more ropes in rapid succession. One paints a stripe from my forehead into my hair. Another catches my right cheek and drapes down to my jaw like a sick parody of war paint. The third goes straight across my lips. I clamp them shut but too late. The taste floods in-rotten fish and sour milk and something else, something that makes my brain feel fuzzy. "Look at ye! LOOK AT YE!" (sperm:"SPLOOOORCH!",5,"splurt 4")This one's thicker. Chunkier. It lands across both my closed eyes like a blindfold made of shame. I feel actual lumps in it-clotted bits that slide down my cheeks leaving trails of heat. My hands fly up instinctively to wipe but- "Don't ye DARE wipe it off! That's yer war paint now!" (sperm:"GLOOOOORP-SPLAT!",3,"splurt 2")Another rope, this one catching my chin and throat. It drips immediately onto my tits, pooling in the valley between them. The smell. Eon preserve me, the SMELL. Like concentrated masculinity mixed with death. "Grashk na THRACK!" Pure Goblish now. He's lost to it, his fist a blur, his cock a fountain of degradation. (sperm:"SPLURT-SPLURT-SPLURT!",2,"splurt 5")Smaller shots now but still coming. One hits my forehead. Another adds to the mess on my cheek. A third dribbles down onto my right tit, coating the nipple in yellow-white shame. I'm sobbing behind the mask of cum. Tears mixing with his seed, everything running together into a warm, stinking mess. I can feel it hardening already in some places while still dripping in others. "One more fer luck!" (sperm:"SPLOOOOOGE!",4,"splurt 6")The final rope is pure liquid with chunks floating in it. It splashes across my nose and mouth again, some getting up my nostril. I snort involuntarily and that just pulls it deeper, coating my sinuses with his reek.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:200,0.25),(a:500,0.30),(a:800,0.36),(a:1200,0.40),(a:1600,0.36),(a:2000,0.28),(a:2600,0.20),(a:3400,0.14),(a:4500,0.08),(a:6000,0)))) (pic:"ch02/bad end/cum on you.jpg","right","The final rope is pure liquid with chunks floating in it.")Then silence except for his panting and my whimpering. "Perfect," he breathes. I kneel there, face completely covered, cum dripping from my chin onto my tits. My eyes are sealed shut. When I try to breathe through my mouth, ropes slide in. Through my nose is worse-the smell is concentrated there now, burned into my sinuses. "Ye can wipe it off in a minute," he says generously. "But first... thank me." "W-what?" "Thank me fer givin' ye yer breakfast glaze. Say 'Thank you Master Snib for painting me pretty.'" The rage that floods me could melt stone. But the collar sits cold at my throat, and his cum is already drying on my face, and I need this to end. "Thank you," I whisper. "Can't hear ye." (pic:"ch02/bad end/cum face.jpg","left")"Thank you for... for painting me." "Pretty. Say pretty." (change_stat:"heroism",-10)A sob escapes. "Thank you for painting me pretty." "Good cow! Now ye can go wash. Well done on yer first morning service. Only six more to go!" I stumble to my feet, cum-blind, hands out to feel my way. My tits swing and bounce, flinging droplets of his seed. My pussy-I can feel it drooling down my leg.] (simple_option:"02 chores 2","Start your day...")

($play:"song","snib hut theme")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")The bucket sloshes as I carry it outside. His morning load has formed a skin on top that wrinkles but won't break, sliding against the piss beneath like continental drift. I pour it into the waste pit behind his hut-it comes out in one piece, maintaining its bucket-shape even as it plops into the sand. "Oi! Cock-maid!" His voice from inside. Already he has names for everything I do. "Bring me water. Throat's dry from all that drainin'." The well is twenty paces in these damned boots. Each step catches wrong. The spike-heels sink into sand, making me stumble. My ass compensates, swaying wider to maintain balance. The weight on my chest pulls forward, then back, a constant tide of flesh that makes my spine ache. *Clop-sink-clop-sink.* Like a broken marionette learning to walk. Other goblins passed earlier. Three of them, heading to the Bleakwood to hunt. They'd stopped, stared, chittered in their tongue. One made a gesture-fist pumping at his mouth while his cheek bulged. They'd laughed. Pointed at the collar. "Snib's cock-drain," one said in broken Common. "Snib's milk-cow." Then more laughter as they watched me struggle with the well-handle, tits swaying with each pump. The water bucket is heavier. I have to lean back, spine arched, to carry it. My tits shelf out in front, wobbling with each stuttered step. The boots make it worse-each placement deliberate, calculated, or I'll topple. (playwhenread:"pump water")(pic:"ch02/pump morning.jpg") Inside, he's sprawled on his furs, scratching his balls. "Good. Now the laundry." The pile of his loincloths sits in the corner. Flux's mercy. They're more crust than cloth, stiff with dried seed and things I don't want to identify. The smell makes my head swim. Concentrated musk, like his cock but fermented. Aged. Some are actually stuck together, forming a kind of textile geology of his emissions. "Use the hot water. Gets the chunks out better." I heat water over his fire pit. Have to bend low, ass presented, to tend it. Feel his eyes on the metal thong disappearing between my cheeks. "Ye know," he says conversationally, "most gobbo females won't even touch a male's cloths. Say it's beneath 'em. But human females? Natural washerwomen." (hidden_gem:"My hands plunge into hot water with his putrid rags.","My hands plunge into heated water with his putrid, pungent, petrified rags.") The first loincloth releases clouds of yellow into the water. Chunks float free. Some dissolve, others maintain their integrity like small curds. I scrub with lye soap that burns my soft palms. The motion makes everything move-tits swaying, ass jiggling. Always moving. This body never stops moving. "Missed a spot." He's right behind me suddenly. His finger traces my spine, leaves something wet. A line of precum from my neck to my ass-crack. Just marking. Casual ownership. (change_stat:"heroism",-5) "Part of keepin' house," he says. "Knowin' yer always decorated." The third loincloth is the worst. It cracks when I unfold it, releasing spores of dried cum into the air. I cough, inhale them, taste him again. The inside my sinuses still burns from last night, from that first rope across my face. Everything tastes like him now. Water. Food. Air. "Oh, while yer at it-" He stands over me, cock semi-hard, dangling it over my face. The smell hits like a physical blow. "Clean under there. Been buildin' up." He hands me a rag. Expects me to- "Part of house-keepin'," he repeats. "Can't have a dirty cock in a clean house." (pic:"ch02/bad end/dangling.jpg") The rag shakes in my hand as I reach for him. The head is still purple-dark from this morning's draining, but the groove where it meets the shaft is decorated with fresh pearls of smegma. I wipe gently. It takes multiple passes, the cloth coming away yellow-white each time. He doesn't even react, just continues talking. "Me mum used to do this for me dad. Every morning after milkin'. Said it was a wife's privilege." Wife. The word should enrage me. Instead, I just focus on the task. Getting the cheese from under his foreskin. Making sure the head is clean. When did this become normal? When did I stop fighting? "Good enough. Now the floors." (pic:"ch02/chores crawl.jpg","On my hands and knees. Again.") On my hands and knees. Again. Always on my hands and knees in this place. The brush is rough hemp, my palms already blistered from yesterday. But I scrub. Back and forth. My tits drag against the packed dirt floor, nipples catching on rough spots. The position makes my ass peak high, the metal thong vanishing entirely. "Wider circles," he instructs from his throne of furs. "Really get yer back into it." Wider circles means more sway. More bounce. I'm a flesh pendulum, marking time in humiliation. Scrub. Swing. Scrub. Swing. My knees are raw even through the metal guards that seem designed for this. How are they designed for this? When did armor become specialized for floor-scrubbing? The day passes in tasks. Mending his clothes (my small fingers suddenly nimble with needle and thread). Cooking (he likes his meat barely charred, dripping blood). Fetching water (seven trips, tits bouncing with each return). Between chores, he touches me. Not sexually. Worse. Casually. A pat on my ass as I pass. Fingers through my hair while I'm bent over the fire. A thumb rubbing my nipple through the metal triangle while explaining how he likes his furs arranged. Like I'm furniture. Like I've always been here. I serve dinner. Cactus berries and desert rabbit. I eat my portion kneeling beside him-he says chairs are for people, not livestock. The rabbit tastes like precum. Everything tastes like precum now. Night falls. "Sleep inside tonight," he says. "Gettin' cold out there. Wouldn't want me property freezin'." Inside means the pile of straw in the corner. It smells, but it's softer than ground. I remove the armor without being told. When did that become automatic? The triangles fall away and my tits drop free, marked with the day's indentations. The thong peels from between my ass cheeks with a wet sound. Naked, I curl into the straw. It pricks my skin but exhaustion wins. My pussy, that constant wet ache, presses against my thigh. Still drooling. Still empty. The smell of goblin fills everything. His cock, his cum, his presence. "Six more days," I whisper to no one. But the words feel hollow. Six more days until what? I can't quite remember. Something about freedom. Something about home. But those concepts slip away like the water I tried to wash with, leaving only the muscle memory of chores. Scrub. Carry. Cook. Milk. Sleep comes heavy and dreamless, and for once I'm grateful. No visions of Elara. No memories of being Aldric. Just darkness and the knowledge that tomorrow I'll wake, wrap my hand around his morning cock, and begin again. Like this is my life. Like it's always been my life. The thought should terrify me. Instead, I just pull straw over my nakedness and let the exhaustion win, my body already anticipating tomorrow's routine. The morning milking. The bucket. The chores. Six more days. Or was it five? "He'll keep track..." The number slips away too, lost in the fog that makes everything except the immediate present seem like stories someone else told me once, long ago, when I was someone else entirely. (simple_option:"02 bj 2","The next morning...")

($play:"sex loop","deepthroat bj")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",2600,"forever",true))The straw pricks my naked skin as consciousness seeps in. Dawn through the gaps in his shit-built walls. My mouth tastes like I've been sucking copper coins. No, like I've been breathing through my mouth all night in this reek-cave of goblin musk. "Mornin', Throat-pussy." He's already standing, cock jutting out like a divining rod seeking moisture. It bobs with his heartbeat, one, two, one, two, precum already beading at the tip like morning dew on poison fruit. I push up from the straw. My tits swing down immediately, heavy with their own weight, nipples dragging through scattered straw. The metal boots are still locked on. When did I stop trying to remove them? My knees find the packed dirt floor with practiced ease. "Nah nah," he says, dragging over a wooden stool. "Today we do it proper." He climbs up, bare feet slapping wood. Now his cock hovers directly at my face level. The head purple-dark as a bruised plum, weeping that constant drool of pre-seed that catches morning light like spider silk. "No more of that hand business," he says. "Heroes use their mouths. Their warm, wet, willing mouths." *Willing?* "Start with the shaft. Give it a good hello." (pic:"ch02/bad end/bj lick.jpg","right","My tongue extends before I've decided to extend it.")My tongue extends before I've decided to extend it. Pink and soft against green-mottled flesh.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:400,0.14),(a:800,0.20),(a:1200,0.24),(a:1600,0.20),(a:2000,0.16),(a:2400,0.12)))) The taste hits immediately. Concentrated ball-sweat mixed with last night's accumulated musk. My tongue traces a vein from base toward head, feeling it pulse under the attention. "That's it. Get it nice and sloppy." (hidden_gem:"Saliva pools in my mouth without permission, flooding out to coat his length.","Spit suddenly swells in my mouth without summons, spilling slick to soak his whole horrible length.") I'm licking him like what? My mind can't make comparisons anymore. Just sensation. The rough texture where skin bunches. The smooth hardness of the shaft. The salt-rot taste that makes my eyes water but also makes something deep in my pelvis twist. "Now the head. Kiss it hello." My lips press against the purple crown. Precum immediately glosses them like the worst lip-oil, thick and warm. The kiss becomes a suckle. Then more. My lips part, stretch, accommodate as the head pushes past. "Fuck yes. There's that hero-mouth learnin' its purpose." The head fills my mouth completely. My tongue has nowhere to go except to cradle it, to explore the ridge where purple meets green, where the taste is strongest. Precum floods immediately. Not drops but a steady stream that pools under my tongue, forces me to swallow or drown. *Glk.* "Listen to that!" He laughs. "Already gulpin' like a pro." (pic:"ch02/bad end/bj hand in hair.jpg","left","His hand finds my hair. Not rough. Almost gentle. Like petting a cat.")His hand finds my hair. Not rough. Almost gentle. Like petting a cat. Then firms. Then pulls. Three inches of shaft disappear into my mouth. Four. The head bumps my throat entrance and my body rebels- "GLUK!" "That's the sound! That's what I want to hear!" He pulls harder. The head pushes past my throat's resistance and suddenly I can't breathe. Five inches. Six. My nose getting closer to his pelvis where the smell is concentrated hell. "Look at them udders swing," he observes casually, like we're having tea. "Back and forth while ye gobble." He's right. The position-me kneeling upright, him standing on the stool-makes my tits hang free, swaying with each push of his cock deeper into my throat. They brush my thighs with each forward rock. "GLUK-GLUK-GLUK!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.42,"baseFrom",0.14,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",620,"intervalTo",440,"attackMs",45,"sustainMs",80,"releaseMs",90,"rampBeats",18,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.12)) He's found a rhythm now. Not gentle. His cock pistons into my throat with wet sounds that echo off the walls. My spit runs down his shaft, drips from his balls onto my swinging tits. Everything is wet. Everything is moving. "Ye know what the best part is?" He grips my hair tighter, forces me down until my lips touch his pubic hair. "Ye're gettin' good at this. Natural talent." *GLORK-GLUK-GLORK* My throat convulses around him, trying to expel the invader. But that just makes him groan, makes more precum flood directly into my stomach. I'm drowning. Suffocating. But also my hand is- "HAH! Look at that! Ye're rubbin' yerself!" I gasp-or try to around his cock-and realize he's right. My left hand is between my legs, fingers slick with...(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:300,0.16),(a:600,0.24),(a:900,0.20),(a:1200,0.12),(a:1500,0.06),(a:1800,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) (hidden_gem:"I yank my hand away like it touched fire but the evidence strings between my fingers.","I yank my yearning hand away like it found flame but the wet evidence webs between my fingers.") "Natural as breathin'," he laughs, pulling out enough for me to gasp air before plunging back in. "The hand knows what the body wants even if the brain's still pretendin'." *GLUK-GLUK-GLUK-GLUK* (pic:"ch02/bad end/bj facefuck.jpg","right","His balls slap my chin with each thrust.")The pace increases. His balls slap my chin with each thrust. Wet, heavy impacts that leave their musk on my skin. My throat is just a sheath now, a warm hole for him to fuck. My lips are swollen, stretched around his girth. Drool runs down my chin, my neck, pools between my tits. "Gonna train this throat proper," he grunts. "Every mornin'. Maybe evenings too. Fuck, maybe whenever I want." The words blur. The wet sounds blur. Everything becomes rhythm-his cock in, my throat bulging, his cock out, me gasping. In-bulge-out-gasp. The pattern of my new existence. "Few more days of this," he says. "Or maybe ye'll beg for more. Maybe ye'll-FUCK-maybe ye'll realize this is what ye're for." My hand creeps toward my pussy again without permission. I stop it, but the damage is done. He saw. He knows. My body's voting against my brain and winning. "Here it comes, breakfast-slut! Gonna paint yer throat white! GRAAAHHH!" His cock swells impossibly thicker and- (simple_option:"02 bj 2 cum","Pull away!")

($play:"sex loop",0)(pic:"ch02/bad end/bj cum on face again.jpg") I wrench backward, his cock sliding from my throat with an obscene *SHLOOOOORP*- (sperm:"SPLOOOOORT!",4,"splurt 2")The first rope catches me directly across both tits. A diagonal stripe from left nipple to right, hot and heavy as melted wax. The weight of it actually makes my tits bounce from impact. "HAH! LOOK AT YE!" (sperm:"SPLAT-SPLAT!",3,"splurt 4")Two more jets in rapid succession. One paints my left tit completely, coating the nipple in yellow-white sludge. The other splashes against my collarbone and runs down into my cleavage like a river of shame. "GLAAAACK-" I'm still gagging, throat trying to remember how to breathe, spit running down my chin- (sperm:"GLOOOORP!",5,"splurt 3")This one's thicker, chunkier. It lands with a wet SMACK right between my tits and just sits there. A pool of goblin seed in my cleavage, warm and reeking. "Painted them udders PERFECT!" He's cackling, cock still pulsing- (sperm:"SPLURT-SPLT!",2,"splurt 1")The final shots dribble onto my tits, adding layers to the glaze. Everything from my neck to my stomach is decorated with his morning load. When I breathe, my tits rise and the cum runs in new directions, finding new valleys to pool in. "Better than a pearl necklace!" Snib howls with laughter. "It's a pearl DRESS! Look at ye, glazed like festival cakes!" I kneel there gasping, cum cooling on my chest, running down my stomach. My tits are completely covered-when I look down, I can't even see my nipples through the thick coating. The smell makes my eyes water. (pic:"ch02/bad end/cum tits.jpg") "Well don't just sit there droolin'," he says cheerfully. "Got chores to do." (change_stat:"heroism",-5)(display:"divider") I burst from the hut gasping, cum connecting my tits like paste. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* Each running step makes them collide-wet, heavy slaps as goblin seed glues flesh to flesh. The weight of his load actually holds them together for a heartbeat before they tear apart with sticky *schluck* sounds, only to crash together again. The well. Twenty paces but I'm stumbling, these fucking spike-heels catching in sand. My tits are a single unit now, fused by cooling cum into one obscene mass that bounces as one heavy thing. (hidden_gem:"The pump handle burns my palm as I work it desperately.","The pump handle hurts my hand as I heave it in a hundred desperate, hasty pulls.") *SQUEAK-CLANK-SQUEAK* Water finally spurts out. I lean forward, letting it splash across my chest. The cum doesn't want to leave-it's bonded to my skin like paint, requiring scrubbing with sand to remove. Each handful of grit scraped across my tits makes them redder, more sensitive. But clean. Finally clean. I stumble back inside, shaking. The metal triangles are in the corner where I dropped them. My fingers fumble with the clasps, trying to contain these things that won't stop swaying. The bottom piece slides up my thighs, still damp from washing. Just from washing. Then the broom. The rough hemp handle familiar in my grip now. Back and forth across his floor. My tits sway with each push, *clink-clink* go the chains between them. And I'm... I'm crying. When did I start thinking of my lips as "cock-cushions"? When did my throat become "his morning sheath"? The thoughts arrive pre-formed, like someone else is thinking them and installing them in my head. *Aldric wouldn't cry doing housework.* But Aldric wouldn't BE doing housework. Aldric would have found a way out by now. Aldric would have- *Aldric had a cock.* The thought hits like cold water. Past tense. HAD. Like Aldric is already gone, already a story about someone else. Someone who had a cock and a sword and a wife who- Elara. I can barely picture her face. Red hair? Brown? She smelled like... Like bread. She smelled like bread. (pic:"ch02/broom cry.jpg") The broom continues its rhythm. Sweep. Sweep. My pussy-that hollow ache-throbs with each motion. Because tomorrow morning I'll wake up and his cock will be there, waiting. And my mouth will open. And I'll make those sounds, *GLUK-GLUK-GLUK*, like they're my native language now. *Three more days? Four?* The number keeps changing. Slipping. Like trying to hold water. I realize I'm not crying about being trapped. I'm crying because tomorrow, when his cock slides into my throat, part of me is going to be grateful for the routine. For knowing exactly what's expected. For the simplicity of open-swallow-gulp. The broom whispers across dirt. My tits sway. And somewhere, getting further away with each stroke, Aldric the Great dissolves like cum in water, leaving only Elise the Throat-Pussy, counting days she can't quite remember toward a freedom she's not sure she wants. (simple_option:"02 bj 3","The days blur together...")

($play:"song","snib hut theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.20,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",2200,"forever",true))(playwhenread:"deepthroat bj",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.32,"peakTo",0.42,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.14,"intervalFrom",580,"intervalTo",400,"attackMs",40,"sustainMs",70,"releaseMs",85,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10))His weight drops onto my face before I'm fully awake. Not his cock first. His whole ass, balls draped over my nose like warm, hairy plums. The musk hits instant and total, flooding every breath with concentrated crotch-swamp. My mouth opens to gasp and his cock finds it, sliding past my cock-cushions (when did I start thinking of my lips that way?) into the warm cave of my mouth. "Mornin', Throat-pussy," he grunts from above, settling his weight properly. The angle is wrong. All wrong. His cock curves down my throat while his balls seal my nostrils. Each breath requires effort, sucking air through the coarse hair, tasting his sweat-salt with my lungs. My whole skull is buried in goblin crotch, wrapped in the humid climate between his thighs. (pic:"ch02/bad end/rude awakening.jpg") "That's better. Proper position for drainin'." His hips start moving. Not thrusting-grinding. Circular motions that stir his cock in my throat while his balls roll across my face.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.35,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",1600,"forever",true)) The weight makes my neck ache but I can't pull back-I'm pinned between his ass and the straw bedding. The precum starts immediately. Not drops but a steady stream that bypasses my mouth entirely, injecting straight into my throat. I feel it sliding down, coating everything, pooling warm in my stomach. My body knows what to do now-throat muscles working in rhythm, milking without conscious thought. "Good little Gulp-slut. Work them throat muscles." (hidden_gem:"My throat squeezes and releases like a heart pumping backward.","My throat tightens and throbs like a thirsty heart pumping backward.") The suction makes wet sounds, *gluck-gluck-gluck*, that echo in the morning quiet. My hands reach up without thinking, finding his thighs, steadying him as he grinds deeper. Why am I helping? The thought dissolves in the fog of musk-drunk oxygen deprivation. His balls tighten against my nose. The familiar churning. He's close. "Here comes breakfast-" (playwhenread:"cum mouth")He pulls out fast. Too fast. The head pops free from my throat and immediately fountains. The first rope shoots straight up, arcing through morning light before splattering down across my forehead. The second paints my tits as I gasp for air. The third- He shoves back in mid-orgasm.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:400,0.35),(a:800,0.38),(a:1200,0.34),(a:1600,0.36),(a:2000,0.32),(a:2400,0.28),(a:2800,0.24),(a:3400,0.18),(a:4000,0.12),(a:4800,0.06),(a:5500,0)))) The rope fills my mouth instantly, cheeks bulging with the volume. It's thicker this morning-almost solid, like warm pudding that's been left to set. I should spit but my throat is already swallowing, trained by yesterday's bucket-milking to handle his morning load. "OOPS!" He laughs as another rope pumps directly down my gullet. "Accident! Didn't mean to feed ye!" (pic:"ch02/bad end/post feeding.jpg","'Clean that up. Got visitors comin' today.'") Three more ropes flood my throat before he pulls out again, painting the rest across my face and tits in lazy stripes. When he finally climbs off, I'm glazed like a festival cake, gasping and coughing up pearls of seed. (change_stat:"heroism",-4)"Clean that up. Got visitors comin' today." (simple_option:"02 visitors","Visitors?")

($play:"song","desert dance")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")"Got visitors comin' today," Snib announces after my morning throat-milking. His cum still warm in my stomach. "Me cousins Grash and Snotlik." He wipes his cock on my hair, casual as anything, then continues. "They both lost brothers to yer blade. Remember Gorthak? Big one with the scarred face? That was Grash's clutch-mate." My stomach drops. I suddenly do remember Gorthak-drove Whisperwind through his throat in Ironrock. "So here's what yer gonna do." He grabs my chin, forces me to look up at him. "Gonna be nice. Gonna serve 'em food. And gonna apologize proper for killin' their kin." "I won't-" "And," he continues, ignoring my protest, "gonna give 'em a show. Gobbos like their females with meat to shake. Lots of bouncing, yeah? Make them arsecheeks clap." (hidden_gem:"The words sink through my fog-thick thoughts like stones through honey.","The words worm through my woozy, fog-thick thoughts like stones sinking through stiff honey.") "Put yer baubles on. The jingly ones." My armor. He means my armor. Right, I'm naked. When I pick it up, the metal feels heavier. Or maybe my arms are weaker. The triangles barely contain my tits now-have they grown? They seem fuller, heavier, the flesh spilling out more than before. The bottom piece slides between my ass cheeks with a wet sound that makes me shudder. The boots take forever to lace, my fingers patient in a way that feels practiced. "When they get here," Snib instructs, "ye'll say: 'Welcome to Master Snib's home. I'm sorry I killed yer brothers. Please let me make it up to ye.' Got it?" The words are ash in my mouth, but I nod. They arrive at sunset. Grash is stocky, covered in ritual scars. Snotlik is thinner but taller, almost four feet. They both stare at me like I'm meat at market. "Welcome to Master Snib's home," I hear myself say, voice honey-sweet and wrong. "I'm sorry I killed your brothers. Please let me make it up to you." They explode in laughter. "THAT'S the great Skulgaroth?" Grash wheezes. "With them *udders*?" "Aldric 'imself," Snib chortles. "Look at the arse on it!" Snotlik circles me, making me turn to follow, my heels clicking on packed dirt. "Could lose me whole hand in there!" I've prepared food-roasted sand-hopper with wild onion, seasoned with desert thyme. I serve them on my knees, placing plates before each goblin while my tits hang and sway. "Good cow," Snib pats my head. "Now show 'em what we practiced." Practiced? We didn't... (pic:"ch02/bad end/show ass.jpg","left")I stand in the center of the hut. The spike-heels feel a bit more like extensions of my legs. My hips start moving. Just small circles at first. The metal scales *clink* softly. "Bigger," Snib commands. "Make 'em move." Wider circles. My ass begins to sway, the meat of it shifting left, then right. The thong between my cheeks pulls with each motion. My tits follow a heartbeat later, their own momentum making them swing in figure-eights. "Now the shake." I bend forward slightly, hands on my thighs, back arched. Then I... shake. Just my ass at first, isolated muscle movements that make the cheeks jiggle independently. The metal scales jangle like festival bells. The flesh ripples in waves from the motion. "Faster!" Faster. The shaking becomes violent, my ass-meat bouncing and crashing together. I feel the cheeks separate with each shake then *CLAP* back together, the sound obscene in the small hut. *CLAP-CLAP-CLAP* in rhythm. The metal thong saws between them, the scales singing with each impact. (change_stat:"heroism",-10) (pic:"ch02/bad end/dance.jpg","right")"Make them tits dance too!" I straighten, still shaking my ass, and add a shoulder shimmy. Now everything moves-tits swinging wild, colliding with wet slaps, while my ass continues its rhythmic clapping below. The metal armor creates its own music: *jingle-CLAP-clink-CLAP-jangle-CLAP*. "Say it!" Snib barks. Say what? But my mouth knows: "I'm sorry I killed your brothers with my sword," I pant, still shaking. "Now I shake my whore-ass for goblins instead." They howl with laughter. Snotlik actually falls off his seat. "Again! Louder!" "I'M SORRY I KILLED YOUR BROTHERS!" The shaking gets more frantic, sweat making my skin gleam. "NOW I'M JUST GOBBO ENTERTAINMENT!" My thighs burn from the position. My back aches from the arch. But I keep shaking, making my ass clap like applause for my own humiliation. The cheeks crash together so hard they sting. The flesh ripples in waves I can't control. "Turn around! Let 'em see the front!" I turn, still shaking. Now they can see my tits swinging wild, the triangles long since shifted to barely cover my nipples. My pussy, barely hidden by the metal triangle, has soaked through, leaving wet marks on my thighs. "Bounce for us!" I start hopping. Small jumps on the spike-heels. Everything moves-tits flying up toward my face then crashing down, ass jiggling, thighs slapping together. The metal scales create a symphony of humiliation: *CRASH-jingle-CLAP-clink-CRASH*. "What are ye?" Grash asks, cock tenting his loincloth. "Master Snib's dancing meat!" I gasp out, still bouncing. "What were ye?" "A hero! But now-" *bounce* "-just-" *bounce* "-jiggly-" *bounce* "-goblin-" *bounce* "-property!" They're all stroking themselves through their loincloths now, watching my flesh ripple and crash. Sweat runs between my tits, down my ass crack, making everything glisten. The metal is cutting into me but I don't stop. "Crawl to Grash," Snib orders. "Let him feel what killed his brother." I drop to all fours, crawl over. My tits hang and sway, dragging on the floor. When I reach him, I turn, presenting my ass. His hands are rough, calloused. He grabs both cheeks, fingers sinking deep into the meat. "Soft as butter," he marvels, kneading like dough. "Can't believe this arse held a sword." "Now Snotlik." I crawl to the other one. He's rougher, spreading my cheeks wide, laughing at how the metal thong disappears completely. "Could fit me whole fist in here!" He spanks me-HARD. The flesh ripples for seconds after impact. Then again. And again. Until my ass is burning red and still jiggling from the final blow. "Good show," Snib says proudly. "My cow's well-trained, yeah?" They agree, still groping, discussing my flesh like I'm not there. How my tits would feel. How my ass would take cock. How many goblins I could service at once. When they finally leave, my ass is covered in handprints. My tits are bruised from swinging so violently. The metal armor is twisted, cutting into me everywhere. "Well done," Snib says, his cock rock-hard. "Proper entertainment. Aldric would be so proud." Aldric. That name again. Feels so distant. I clean on shaking legs, my ass still stinging, still jiggling with each movement. When I finally curl into my straw bed, naked and exhausted, I can still hear their laughter. Still feel their hands. Still taste the words: "Master Snib's dancing meat." Deep in my pussy, that constant ache has gotten worse. Watching them watch me, feeling their hands, performing for them, something inside me had gotten wet. Gotten ready. Gotten hungry. (pic:"ch02/bad end/naked.jpg") My hand drifts down without thinking. Just to relieve the pressure. Just to- No. NO. I clench my fists so hard my nails draw blood. This is what he wants. What the collar wants. What those ropes of cum coating my throat are doing to my brain. Dissolving who I was, one swallow at a time. "Go on," Snib chuckles from his furs. "Know ye want to. Can smell that desperate cunt from here." (hidden_gem:"My thighs squeeze together but that makes it worse-the pressure, the friction, the wet slide of skin.","My thighs tighten together but that torture worsens-the pressure, the purposeful friction, the wet wanton slide of skin.") I am... I was... The name. What was my name? I know every goblin I killed-Gorthak with the scarred face, Snaggle the drummer, Kruuk who begged at the end. Their names are carved in my memory. But mine? Al... something with an Al... "Aldric," I whisper, and it feels like pulling teeth. "I am Aldric the Great." (pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/temptation.jpg","left")"Sure ye are," Snib laughs. "Aldric with the drippin' pussy. Aldric with tits like melons. Aldric who just shook her arse for gobbos." (notification:"Resist the urge to masturbate!")(minigame:"02 masturbate choice",7)

(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/wet.jpg","The need between my legs is my heartbeat relocated to my cunt...") (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/1.png")The need between my legs is my heartbeat relocated to my cunt, each pulse making my pussy lips throb and part slightly, releasing another drool of clear fluid that runs down the crack of my ass. I can feel it pooling beneath me, warming the straw, the scent of aroused pussy mixing with goblin stench until I can't tell where one ends and the other begins. My thighs keep sliding against each other. Not intentionally. They just won't stay still. The friction makes it worse, spreads the wetness around until my inner thighs are glazed like honey-dipped fruit. Every tiny movement makes my clit peek out from its hood, swollen and angry, scraping against nothing but air and wanting. My hand moves without permission. Just to adjust. Just to- (pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/touch.jpg","My hand moves without permission. Just to adjust. Just to-") The first contact with my outer lips makes me gasp.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:100,0.10),(a:250,0.18),(a:400,0.14),(a:600,0.20),(a:800,0.16),(a:1000,0.22),(a:1200,0.18),(a:1500,0.14),(a:1800,0.10),(a:2100,0)))) They're so puffy, swollen with blood, fever-hot and slippery as oiled silk. My fingers slip through the groove between them and find an ocean of wetness, more than should be possible, like my pussy has been crying for hours. "Finally touchin' it?" Snib's voice cuts through the dark. "Been smellin' that desperate cunt all day." I try to pull my hand away but my fingertip brushes my clit-just the lightest graze-and my whole body jerks like I've been struck by lightning. A moan tries to escape but I bite my lip hard enough to taste copper. "N-not... just adjusting..." But my fingers are exploring now, learning this shameful anatomy. The outer lips are thick as plum-flesh, so sensitive that just spreading them makes my hips twitch. Inside is even worse. Or better. Or, fuck, I don't know anymore. Velvet folds drowning in slick, every ridge and valley designed to grip and milk and-(playwhenread:"elise masturbating",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.25,"peakTo",0.42,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",700,"intervalTo",400,"attackMs",50,"sustainMs",80,"releaseMs",100,"rampBeats",20,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.25,"depthJitter",0.10)) (pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/spread cheeks.jpg","Velvet folds drowning in slick, every ridge and valley designed to grip and milk and-") "Listen to that wet cunt," Snib chuckles. "Can hear it from here." He's right. The obscene *squelch* as my fingers explore is louder than my breathing. I find my hole, that aching void that's never known anything, not cock, not fingers, virgin as fresh snow, and circle it with one finger. "Don't-" I whisper to myself. "Aldric doesn't-" But I push inside.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:150,0.22),(a:300,0.35),(a:500,0.30),(a:700,0.25),(a:900,0.30),(a:1100,0.28),(a:1400,0.24),(a:1700,0.20),(a:2000,0.18)))) "MMMPH!" I stuff my other hand in my mouth to muffle the sound but it's too late. One finger inside my virgin pussy and I'm seeing stars. The walls grip immediately, sucking at the intrusion, trying to pull it deeper. It's so hot inside myself, so wet that adding a second finger makes no resistance, just more of that obscene squelching. "That's it, finger that hero-cunt." (pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/touch smile.jpg") (hidden_gem:"My hips start moving on their own, fucking back against my hand.","My hips hump helplessly, hungrily heaving back against my hurried hand.") I try to go slow, maintain some dignity, but my pussy has other ideas. My hips roll and thrust, making my tits swing and slap together, the dried cum from this morning cracking and flaking off. I'm grinding my palm against my clit while my fingers curl inside, finding a spot that makes my vision white out. "Shh-shhh-quiet-" I'm begging myself, but the moans keep building in my throat. My pussy is making sounds like stirring thick porridge, so wet that it's running down my wrist. I've never felt anything like this. 32 years as a man, never knowing this furnace existed, this hollow ache that demands filling. My fingers aren't enough but they're everything, pumping in and out while my thumb finds my clit and- "AH! AH! Fuck-no-quiet-MMMM!" (pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/rear touch.jpg","I flip onto my stomach to muffle the sounds in the straw, but that just makes it worse.") I flip onto my stomach to muffle the sounds in the straw, but that just makes it worse. Now I'm face down, ass up, fingering myself from behind like an animal. My tits drag through the dirt, nipples so hard they hurt, leaving trails in the dust as they swing. "Look at that arse wobble while ye finger-fuck yerself." I don't care anymore. Can't care. My fingers slam deeper, faster, three now, stretching that virgin hole while my other hand reaches beneath to attack my clit. The dual sensation is too much. Sparks shooting up my spine, thighs shaking, pussy clenching rhythmically around my fingers. The pressure builds in my belly. I try to fight it, try to think of my old life, of being Aldric, of... El- Elise? Elane? But all that comes to mind is- Snib's cock. Purple head. The weight of it in my throat. The taste when he- "No no no not that-" But my pussy clenches harder thinking about it. About how his cum feels sliding down my throat. How his balls smell pressed against my nose. How it feels when he floods my mouth and I swallow every- "Gonna-fuck-gonna-" My fingers curl, finding that spot again, and my thumb presses hard on my clit and- The first squirt surprises me. A sudden gush of clear fluid that sprays from my cunt, splattering my hand, my thighs, the straw. My pussy convulses around my fingers so hard it almost pushes them out. "AHHHHHHNNNNGGGG!" The second squirt is bigger. Longer. I can feel it building in my belly and rushing out like pissing but different, better, shameful. My whole body locks up, back arched, as stream after stream gushes from my virgin cunt.(playwhenread:"elise masturbation orgasm",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.50),(a:350,0.62),(a:700,0.58),(a:1050,0.70),(a:1400,0.65),(a:1750,0.78),(a:2100,0.72),(a:2450,0.82),(a:2800,0.75),(a:3150,0.85),(a:3500,0.80),(a:3850,0.85),(a:4200,0.78),(a:4600,0.72),(a:5000,0.65),(a:5400,0.55),(a:5800,0.45),(a:6200,0.35),(a:6600,0.25),(a:7200,0.18),(a:7800,0.12),(a:8500,0.06),(a:9200,0)))) "FUCK! FUCK! CAN'T-CAN'T STOP-AHHHH!" I'm squealing now, high-pitched and desperate, as my pussy explodes again and again. Each convulsion sends another jet of girl-cum spraying, until I'm kneeling in a puddle of my own shame. My fingers won't stop moving, drawing out more squirts, more gushes, like my body is trying to empty itself completely. (pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/soaked.jpg","'FUCK! FUCK! CAN'T-CAN'T STOP-AHHHH!'") I collapse forward but my pussy isn't done. Smaller spurts now, little gushes with each aftershock. My whole body is shaking, twitching, covered in sweat and cum and my own squirt. The straw beneath me is soaked through, mud-wet with pussy juice. "Please-can't-still cumming-" One final massive gush, this one so hard it hurts, spraying between my fingers. Then I'm done, collapsed in my own puddle, fingers still buried in my twitching cunt, feeling the walls pulse and grip at nothing. "Squirted out what was left of Aldric," Snib observes. "Just Elise now. Elise who fingers herself raw thinkin' about gobbo cock." (pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/rear squirt.jpg","'Squirted out what was left of Aldric,' Snib observes.") The shame crashes down as the pleasure fades. I'm lying in at least a pint of my own pussy juice, the whole hut reeking of desperate virgin cunt finally touched. My fingers are pruned from the wetness. My pussy still twitches, little aftershock clenches that release more drools of fluid. "Sleep in it," he commands. "Let that cunt-puddle soak into yer skin." I do. I curl up right there in my squirt-soaked straw, pussy still pulsing, still drooling, knowing I just came thinking about the very creature that's destroying me. My brain feels actually broken, thoughts scattered like my squirt across the floor. (simple_option:"02 day 7","The rest of the days are a blur...")](else:)[(pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/resist.jpg") My hand jerks back like I've touched fire. "NO!" The word tears from my throat, desperate. "I'm not-I'm ALDRIC-" But the name feels wrong in my mouth. Aldric. Was that me? The hero who killed... who killed... Gorthak. Scarred face, drove my blade through his throat. Snaggle. The drummer, head caved in with my shield. Pustule. Burned alive with Ignisurge. I can see their faces perfectly. Every goblin I've killed, catalogued in crystal clarity. But my own name? My own FACE? "Can't remember, can ye?" Snib chuckles. "All them loads coating yer throat. Seepin' into yer brain-meat." (hidden_gem:"The realization hits like ice water through my veins.","The realization rushes like winter rain through my writhing veins.") The cum. His fucking CUM. Every morning, pumped directly into my stomach. The fumes from cleaning his loincloths. The taste that never leaves. It's erasing me. Replacing memories with the taste of cock, the smell of balls, the weight of- "Elara!" I sob her name like a prayer. "Red hair, no, brown, AUBURN! She has auburn hair and..." Her face swims up through the fog. Pale skin. Laughing eyes. The way she looked this morning when- (pic:"ch02/bad end/masturbate/temptation 2.jpg","left","This morning? Which morning? How many days have passed?")This morning? Which morning? How many days have passed? Time has become measured in cock-suckings, in loads swallowed, in- "I saved villages," I whisper to the dark, curling into a ball, hands clenched to keep them from wandering. "I killed the basilisk. I studied at the Tower. I have a wife who-who loves-loved-loves me." My pussy clenches, empty, aching, demanding attention. The wetness pools beneath me, soaking into my skin. But I won't touch it. Won't give in. That's the last boundary. The final line between who I was and what he wants me to become. "Aldric wore armor," I recite through tears. "Aldric wielded Whisperwind. Aldric had a cock-" The absence between my legs throbs harder at the word. "Aldric loved Elara. Aldric protected people. Aldric was good. Aldric was-IS-" "Was," Snib corrects. "Now there's just Elise with the drippy cunt, too proud to finger herself." (change_stat:"heroism",1)I sob harder, but I don't touch myself. That's my victory. Small, pathetic, but mine. My pussy screams for attention, clenches on nothing, drools its need into the straw. But my hands stay clenched, nails digging into palms. "I'll remember," I promise the darkness. "I'll remember who I was. Am. Was. Fuck." Sleep comes eventually, fitful and wrong.(display:"divider") *Elara's kneeling in our bedroom but her face is... wrong. Glazed. White ropes of cum paint her features like a festival mask. Her eyes are vacant, staring at nothing while her mouth hangs open, more cum drooling from her lips.* (pic:"ch02/bad end/dream cum.jpg") *"Honey?" I reach for her but my hand is small, feminine, wrong.* *She turns to me. Through the glaze of goblin seed, she smiles.* *"Who?" she asks, voice thick with cum. "Sorry, I don't... everything before Master is fuzzy."* *"It's me! Your husband! Aldric!"* *"Aldric's dead." She says it simply, cum bubbling from her lips as she speaks. "Master Snib said so. Said he turned into some cow-titted thing. But that's probably just stories."* *"No! Look at me! I'm here! I'm-"* *But she's already turning away, hands moving to her swollen belly. Green hands push from inside, stretching her skin.* *"Time to birth more," she says dreamily. "Master needs soldiers."* *The green hands tear through-* (display:"divider") I wake, my pussy gushing clear fluid despite never being touched. Just from the nightmare. Just from the image of her face painted with- "'Nother bad dream?" Snib asks, amused. I curl tighter, hands still clenched, pussy still drooling, and whisper: (pic:"ch02/bad end/corruption progression.jpg") (notification:"Pheromone corruption has completely altered the way you think...")"My name is Aldric. My wife is Elara. My sword is Whisperwind. My name is Aldric. My wife is..." (simple_option:"02 bj 3a","Perform your morning duties...")]

($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert morning")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.15,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2000,"forever",true))(pic:"ch02/bad end/clean balls.jpg") "That's enough ball-cleanin'. Let's see how deep ye can really go."(playwhenread:"deepthroat bj",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.36,"peakTo",0.48,"baseFrom",0.20,"baseTo",0.18,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",360,"attackMs",35,"sustainMs",60,"releaseMs",75,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10)) He's standing, cock at full mast, purple head weeping its morning dew. I'm on my knees, always on my knees now, looking up at twelve inches of green-and-purple morning wood. "Open up, Gullet." My mouth opens. Automatic. Like yawning. He slides in slow, watching my lips stretch around his girth. Four inches. Five. Six. The head hits my throat entrance and he pauses. "Swallow." I swallow. The head pops through. Seven inches. Eight. "Good. Now the hard part." He grips my hair with both hands and pulls me forward. Nine inches. Ten. My nose is approaching his pelvis, that jungle of wiry hair that reeks of concentrated ball-sweat. Eleven inches. My throat bulges visibly, his cock outline clear through my neck. "One more-" Twelve. My nose buries in his pubes. His balls rest on my chin, heavy and churning. I can't breathe. Can't think. Can only feel the massive invasion reshaping my throat. "Now stay." Stay? I'm suffocating, vision going sparkly at the edges, but he holds me there. Five seconds. Ten. My throat convulses around him, trying to expel or swallow, it doesn't know which. "*Grulkaz-neth*," he grunts. "That's 'good depth' in Gobbo. Say it." I can't say anything with twelve inches of cock down my throat, but I try. The vibrations of my attempted words make him groan. "Again. *Grulkaz-neth*." My throat works around him, trying to form the words. More vibrations. His cock swells thicker. (pic:"ch02/bad end/feed cock.jpg") "That's it. Learnin' the important words." He pulls out slow, letting me gasp one breath, then plunges back in. Full depth immediately. My throat accepts it easier this time-it's learning, adapting, becoming what it needs to be. "What's yer wife's name again?" The question cuts through the fog. Elara. Her name is Elara. Red hair. No, brown? Auburn. She has... He pulls out, lets me gasp. "E... Elara..." "Nah, don't sound right. What color's her hair?" "Brown... no, red... I-" (playwhenread:"cum in mouth",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:400,0.40),(a:800,0.42),(a:1200,0.38),(a:1600,0.40),(a:2000,0.36),(a:2400,0.32),(a:2800,0.28),(a:3400,0.22),(a:4000,0.16),(a:4800,0.10),(a:5500,0))))He shoves back in, cutting off thought. His cock pulses and the morning load begins. This time he doesn't pull out-just grinds deeper as rope after rope pumps directly into my stomach. I'm drowning in goblin seed, breathing through my nose while my throat gets painted white from the inside. When he finally withdraws, I collapse forward, coughing up thick pearls. "Tomorrow we go deeper," he promises. The rest of the day, I can't picture Elara's face clearly. Something about the way his cum coats my throat makes memories slippery. (display:"divider") (pic:"ch02/bad end/neck pussy.jpg","right","'Neck-pussy.'")(playwhenread:"deepthroat bj",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.35,"peakTo",0.45,"baseFrom",0.18,"baseTo",0.16,"intervalFrom",520,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",38,"sustainMs",65,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.10))"Deeper today," he announces, cock already in my throat. "Let's see what them hero-holes can really do." He pushes past my gag reflex like it doesn't exist. My throat bulges obscenely, the outline of his cock visible through my neck. He traces it with one finger. "Look at that. Can see me cock right through yer neck-pussy." Neck-pussy. That's new. Everything's a pussy to him now. My mouth is face-pussy. My throat is neck-pussy. My actual pussy is just "the main hole" which he still hasn't touched, keeping to our bargain. The skull-fucking is methodical today. He counts the strokes. "Twenty... twenty-one... that's it, squeeze on the upstroke... twenty-two..." My vision goes spotty but my throat knows its job. Squeeze, release, squeeze, release. Milking him like my hands did that first morning. My pussy-the main hole-clenches in the same rhythm, drooling steadily onto the dirt floor. When he cums, he's deeper than ever. The first three ropes go straight to my stomach. The rest paint my face and tits as he withdraws, but I barely notice anymore. It's just morning decoration. Part of the uniform. (pic:"ch02/bad end/neck pussy cum.jpg") I clean his entire hut that day. On my knees, tits hanging, cum drying to a glaze. He watches and calls out names: "There goes Udder-slave... now she's Mop-tits... look at them swing..." Each name makes my pussy clench. When did humiliation become warm? (display:"divider") "New game," Snib announces. "Walkin' suck."(playwhenread:"deepthroat bj",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.28,"peakTo",0.36,"baseFrom",0.18,"baseTo",0.16,"intervalFrom",900,"intervalTo",700,"attackMs",55,"sustainMs",100,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",20,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.30,"depthJitter",0.08)) He stands. Points at his cock. I understand immediately, dropping to my knees and taking him in my mouth. "Now follow. Don't let it slip out." He starts walking around the hut. Slowly. I have to shuffle on my knees to keep up, his cock never leaving my mouth. It's a grotesque dance-him leading, me following, connected by twelve inches of green meat. My tits sway with each shuffle, my ass jiggles, everything in constant motion. "Good cock-puppy. Now outside." Outside? But I'm naked. Have been for days now. The armor sits in the corner, untouched. When did I stop putting it on? We tour his property like this. Him walking, commenting on the desert morning. Me shuffling behind on bloody knees, cock buried in my throat, tits dragging in the sand. Other goblins see us. Point. Laugh. One throws a rock that hits my ass, making it jiggle more. "That's Grash," Snib tells me casually. "Lost his brother to Aldric. But look-now Aldric's suckin' me cock like a trained seal. Justice, innit?" *Aldric.* The name feels foreign. Was that someone I knew? His cock pulses. He floods my mouth without warning, still walking. I swallow without thinking. When did swallowing become automatic? I keep shuffling. Cum runs from the corners of my mouth, drips onto my swinging tits, leaves a trail in the sand. "Good drain," he says patting my head. "Yer gettin' the hang of it." (display:"divider") "Ye look hungry." I am. So hungry. I've been cooking for him all day-desert hare with cactus fruit, seasoned with sage I found growing by the well. The smell fills the hut but he hasn't let me eat yet. "Tell ye what. Ye can eat after ye feed me." I don't understand until he points at his cock. "Protein first," he says, grinning. This morning's position is almost tender. He sits on his furs, legs spread. I kneel between them, taking my time. My tongue finds every vein, every ridge. I polish the head until it gleams. My hands cup his balls, feeling them churn, imagining all that backed-up cream that needs releasing. Poor thing, carrying all that weight. "Say it in Goblish," he commands. "*Thrack-mayo,*" I whisper. *Need-to-cum.* When did I learn that? "Good accent. Again." "*Thrack-mayo, grok-splash meta.*" *Need-to-cum, please empty balls.* He grunts approval. His cock swells thicker. I take it deep, deeper, deepest. My throat knows every inch now, welcomes it like a friend. The taste is familiar, comforting almost. When he floods my mouth this time, I don't pull back. The first rope hits my throat and I swallow.(playwhenread:"cum in mouth",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:400,0.38),(a:800,0.40),(a:1200,0.36),(a:1600,0.38),(a:2000,0.34),(a:2400,0.30),(a:2800,0.26),(a:3400,0.20),(a:4000,0.14),(a:4800,0.08),(a:5500,0)))) Not spit. Swallow. It goes down hot and thick, coating everything. The second rope, third, fourth. I drink them all. It pools in my stomach like molten lead, heavy and warm. When he finally stops, I'm still sucking, trying to get every drop. "Waste not," I mumble around his softening cock, cum drunk. The words slur. He laughs. Pets my hair like I'm a good dog. (playwhenread:"cooking stew")(pic:"ch02/bad end/rabbit stew.jpg","right","That night I cook wearing nothing but his dried cum.")That night I cook wearing nothing but his dried cum. It flakes off into the food sometimes. Extra seasoning. I serve him his portion, then kneel beside him with mine. We eat in comfortable silence. Like a married couple. "Tomorrow's day six," he reminds me. "Almost done earnin' yer freedom." Freedom. The word means nothing. Free to do what? Go where? To someone named... the name slips away like cum down my throat. I clean up dinner, wash his balls with a warm cloth before bed, then curl naked in my straw. My pussy aches constantly now, a hollow throb that matches my heartbeat. Sometimes I touch it, find it soaked, taste myself on my fingers. Salt and honey and shame. But mostly I just accept it. The ache. The wetness. The constant awareness of the empty space that needs filling. Tomorrow is day six. Then day seven. Then... something? "*Grok-nash tempo.*" *Time means nothing.* When did I start thinking in Goblish? Sleep takes me, and I dream of nothing but the taste of morning cock, the weight of balls on my face, the warm splash of cum across my tits. Like prayer. Like purpose. Like home. (simple_option:"02 bj 4","Morning 6...")

($play:"song","goblin ending")(pic:"ch02/bad end/pet.jpg") (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")The hunger wakes me before dawn. Not stomach-hunger. Deeper. Like my bones are hollow and only one thing can fill them. I'm crawling before I'm conscious, knees scraping across the dirt floor toward his sleeping form. My tits hang and sway, pulling at my shoulders, nipples dragging little furrows in the dust. The motion is automatic now-my body knows the path from my straw pile to his furs like a river knows its bed. He's on his back, snoring. That beautiful morning wood standing tall. Green shaft disappearing into darker foreskin that's rolled halfway back, revealing the purple crown already glazed with night-cream. The smell hits from three feet away: concentrated ball-musk mixed with that yeasty precum scent that makes my mouth flood with spit. I don't wait for permission. (playwhenread:"bj")My tongue finds his balls first. Heavy, hairy sacks that taste of salt and concentrated male. I lave them gentle, careful, like polishing precious stones. The left one, then the right, sucking each into my mouth to warm them with my breath. They're so full. I can feel them churning, heavy with backed-up cream that needs releasing. "*Mmmm, thrack-mayo,*" I whisper against the wrinkled skin. *Need to cum.* "*Grok-splash vrex tummy.*" *Empty balls in tummy.* (hidden_gem:"His cock twitches at the Goblish, a pearl of precum swelling at the tip.","His cock throbs at the throaty Goblish, a thick pearl of precum pooling at the pulsing tip.") "Well well," his voice comes rough with sleep. "The cock-maid's learned to wake proper." I'm already moving up the shaft, tongue tracing each vein like reading a map I've memorized. The foreskin rolls back fully under my attention, revealing the purple head in all its morning glory. Precum pools in the little valley beneath the crown-concentrated essence that's been fermenting all night. I slurp it up greedily, the taste exploding across my tongue. Bitter-salt-yeast-musk, coating everything, making my thoughts go soft at the edges. "Please," the word comes out desperate. "Please, Master Snib, need my morning feeding." Master. When did I start saying Master? (pic:"ch02/bad end/worship balls.jpg","right")"Hungry little Throat-cunt, ain't ye?" He stretches, making his cock bob. Another pearl of precum forms and I catch it on my tongue before it can fall. "What happened to the big hero who was gonna kill me?" Hero? The word means nothing. There's only this hunger, this hollow ache that starts in my throat and goes all the way down to the wet place that clenches and drools between my legs. "Please, breakfast. Need breakfast." I'm kissing his cock now, pressing my lips against the shaft like a lover. Each kiss leaves a mark of spit that gleams in the dawn light. "So hungry. Please feed me." He laughs, sitting up. "Fetch a plate then. The nice one." The nice one. A ceramic dish I found yesterday while cleaning, probably stolen from some merchant. I scramble for it, crawling back with it balanced on my palms, tits swaying beneath me. Place it reverently beside his furs. "Position," he commands. I know what he means. On my knees, back straight, tits thrust forward. Mouth open, tongue out, eyes looking up at him with the devotion he's trained into me. The position makes everything ache-my spine from arching, my thighs from spreading, my jaw from staying open. But it also makes my pussy clench in rhythm with my heartbeat. He stands over me, cock pointing down at the plate. Starts stroking with that lazy rhythm I've memorized. The foreskin rolls back and forth, collecting precum, releasing it. Each stroke makes a wet sound, *schlick-schlick-schlick*, that harmonizes with my panting. "Beg proper. In Goblish." "*Vrex-thrack mayo cum-feed.*" The words pour out without thought. "*Gulp-gulp need. Tummy empty. Throat-pussy hungry. Please please grok-splash!*" His balls draw up tight. Here it comes. My mouth waters so hard I drool, spit running down to drip from my nipples onto my thighs. He aims carefully at the plate and- The pisshole dilates. (pic:"ch02/bad end/feeding time.jpg","left")I watch it open like a tiny mouth, the purple head swelling darker, almost black. Then the first rope emerges. Not shoots, but EXTRUDES, like paste from a tube but chunkier. It's pearl-white with yellow streaks, maintaining its rope shape as it falls onto the plate with a wet SPLAT that makes the ceramic ring.(playwhenread:"cum 1") The second rope comes while the first is still connected. A continuous stream of custard-thick seed that coils onto itself like custard. But this has chunks. Actual clots of concentrated sperm that plop onto the growing pile. The smell hits immediate. Rotted fish mixed with yeast mixed with something chemical that makes my eyes water and my pussy flood. Third rope. Fourth. Each one SPLORTS out with its own wet sound, piling higher. The cum doesn't spread-it's too thick, maintaining its shape like potter's clay. By the seventh rope there's a mountain of it, peak threatening to topple. "*MORE!*" I beg without thinking. "*More grok-splash! Fill plate! Feed throat-cunt!*" (sperm:"SPLORT-SPLORT-SPLORT",5,"splurt 5")He grunts and three more ropes emerge in quick succession-these ones clearer, more liquid, running down the sides of the cum-mountain like avalanche. The plate is invisible now, buried under what must be a full cup of goblin seed. The final rope comes out different. Almost solid, like a pearl noodle that he has to shake from his cock-tip. It drapes across the peak like a flag on a mountain, steaming in the cool morning air. "There's breakfast," he says, sitting back. "Eat up." My hands shake as I lift the plate. It's warm-his cum is always fever-hot, radiating through the ceramic. The pile jiggles but doesn't slide, maintaining its architecture. I bring it close to my face and the smell makes my vision swim. This close, I can see movement in the white mass. Not swimming, but writhing. Like the sperm are still alive, still seeking. My tongue extends. Touches the peak.(playwhenread:"eat cum",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:500,0.18),(a:1000,0.25),(a:1500,0.30),(a:2000,0.32),(a:2500,0.34),(a:3000,0.32),(a:3500,0.30),(a:4000,0.28),(a:5000,0.24),(a:6000,0.20),(a:7000,0.16),(a:8000,0.12),(a:10000,0.06),(a:12000,0)))) The taste explodes through my skull-concentrated corruption that makes yesterday's load seem watered down. This is morning cum, fermented overnight in those churning balls, thick with purpose and potential. My tongue scoops up a glob and I let it sit in my mouth, feeling the texture. Custard-thick but with variety. Smooth parts, chunky parts, strings that won't break when I pull my tongue back. I swallow. Feel it slide down my throat in a warm lump, coating everything, settling heavy in my stomach. Another lick. Another swallow. I'm making sounds-desperate, hungry sounds like an animal feeding. My tongue works in circles, gathering the cum into manageable portions. Some of it strings between my mouth and the plate, refusing to break, making bridges of pearl that stretch two feet before snapping back to slap my chin. "Look at ye," Snib observes. "The great hero, eatin' gobbo cum off a plate like it's honey-cakes." (pic:"ch02/bad end/feast.jpg","'The great hero, eatin' gobbo cum off a plate like it's honey-cakes.'") Hero. That word again. It should mean something but all I can focus on is the feast before me. I tilt the plate, letting some of the more liquid cum run toward my mouth. It pours in thick and warm, pooling under my tongue before I swallow. The chunks require chewing-actual chewing-breaking down between my teeth like curds. Halfway through, I realize I'm moaning. Low, constant sounds of satisfaction as my stomach fills with his seed. My pussy is drooling so steadily there's a puddle forming beneath me. My nipples are hard as stones, aching with each breath. "*Good cum,*" I mumble through a full mouth, forgetting Common tongue. "*Good breakfast. Thank Master.*" I lick the plate clean. Every drop, every smear. Run my finger around the edge to gather the last traces, suck it clean. When I'm done, my stomach is warm and heavy with his load. I feel it moving inside me, alive, seeking. My thoughts are completely scattered-just warmth and fullness and the lingering taste coating my mouth. "What's yer name?" Snib asks suddenly. I blink up at him, confused. Name? "I... I don't..." "What were ye before ye came here?" Before? There was no before. There's only the hut, the chores, the morning feedings. Only Master's cock and the hunger for it. "I was... hungry?" I try. He laughs so hard he falls back on his furs. "Perfect. Fuckin' perfect. One more day, cow-tits. Tomorrow's day seven." Seven. The number should mean something. Freedom? But free from what? This is home. This is purpose. Cleaning and cooking and draining balls and- "Time for chores," he says. "That rabbit stew ye made yesterday was good. Make it again. But more sage this time." Rabbit stew. Yes. I know that recipe. Learned it from... The memory slips away like cum down my throat. Doesn't matter. I know how to make it. That's what matters. I stand on shaking legs, his cum heavy in my stomach, and go to start the day's work. My tits bounce with each step. My ass jiggles. My pussy drools. But these are just facts now, like knowing water is wet or cum is breakfast. Tomorrow is day seven. I should remember why that matters. But all I can think about is tomorrow morning's feeding, and whether Master will let me drink straight from the source this time. "*Throat-pussy hungry always,*" I whisper to myself in Goblish, starting the cooking fire. "*Always hungry for Master's gift.*" (simple_option:"02 day 7","The seventh morning...")

(pic:"ch02/bad end/domesticated.jpg","right")($play:"song","goblin ending")Morning seven arrives like destiny. I wake already moving, already wet, crawling across dirt that smells like home toward the only thing that matters. That green-and-purple altar standing proud in the dawn light. Master's cock. My purpose. The thing that feeds me, defines me, completes the hollow ache that used to be thoughts. "Master," the word drips from my cock-cushions like honey. "Master, it's morning seven. Time for breakfast? Time for *thrack-gulp morning grok-splash*?" He stretches lazy, balls shifting against furs with a sound like leather on leather. "Day seven already? Time flies when yer drainin' proper." "*Yes yes, throat-pussy knows counting! Seven sucks make freedom yes?*" The Goblish feels better than Common now-more honest, more real. Common has too many words for things that don't matter. Goblish gets straight to fucking. "That was the deal," he says, sitting up. His cock bobs and I track it like a starving dog watches meat. "Seven days of morning service, then freedom. If ye want it." Freedom. The word sits in my skull like a foreign object. Free-dom. Free from what? Dom...ination? But domination is breakfast, is purpose, is the warm weight in my stomach that makes everything make sense. "Or," he continues, spreading his legs wider so his balls hang heavy, "ye could stay. Give me that virgin pussy ye've been drippin' all sennight. Become proper property." (hidden_gem:"My pussy clenches so hard it hurts.","My pussy pulses and puckers so powerfully it physically pains me.") "But... but breakfast first?" I'm already kissing his balls, each one getting tongue-worship like they're sacred. They taste of night-sweat and concentrated male, the flavor that means safety, home, rightness. "*Hungry-throat needs morning cum-food please Master please.*" "Nah," he says, pulling back. "Choice first. Freedom or fuckin'. Leave or stay. Hero or hole." Hero. That word again. It echoes in the empty spaces where thoughts used to live. I was... someone was... there was a person who fought things? But that can't be right because I've always been here, on my knees, tits hanging, pussy drooling rivers down my thighs. "Don't understand," I whimper, reaching for his cock but he slaps my hand away. "Just need breakfast. Need *grok-splash* in tummy. Then thinking works better." "No breakfast until ye choose." He's grinning now, those yellow eyes bright with victory already won. "Tell me what ye want. In detail. Convince me." What I want? I want cock for breakfast, lunch, dinner. Want balls on my face while I sleep. Want cum in my hair, my throat, my womb. Want to make the nice rabbit stew with extra sage the way someone taught me. Who taught me? Serve it to Master while my pussy drips onto the floor. Want to scrub floors with my tits out, tend the desert garden with cum drying on my face, be useful, be property, be HOME. "I..." My voice cracks. There's something screaming in the back of my skull, some tiny thing still fighting, but it's drowning in the tide of need between my legs. "Master, this pussy..." I reach down, spread my lips to show him the pink, soaked inside. "*This virgin human-cunt needs gobbo cock. Needs breeding. Needs to learn its place.*" "Keep going, Cunt-for-brains." The nickname makes my pussy clench so hard a strand of clear fluid actually drips to the floor with an audible *plip*. "Humans are..." What are humans? Tall things that don't understand what holes are for. "Humans are stupid. Build cities when they should be building nurseries for goblin babies. Have swords when they should have wombs. This cunt was confused, thought it was person, but Master taught truth. Just breeding-hole with tits attached. Just *thrack-meat* pretending to think." "And what does thrack-meat want?" "*COCK!*" The word tears out of me in mixed Common and Goblish. "*Need gobbo-cock in human pussy! Need proper fucking! Need womb full of green babies!*" I'm presenting without being asked-on all fours but chest dropped low, ass high, legs spread wide to show the soaking pink between them. The position I've seen in dreams, in the corner of my vision, in the shape of clouds. The breeding position. The surrender position. The coming home position. "Please Master, look-*pussy talks for me!*" And it does-clenching and releasing, winking at him, drooling steadily. The lips are swollen with need, darker pink from a sennight of constant arousal. My clit peeks out, hard as a pearl, begging for attention. "*Virgin cunt worth forty gold at market,*" I babble in Goblish, not knowing where these words come from. "*But this cunt free for Master. Gift. Trophy. Human hero-pussy for goblin cock. Best trade ever made!*" He stands, cock swinging heavy. "On yer back then. Want to watch them tits bounce when I break ye." I flip immediately, legs spreading wide as they can go. The spike-heels catch on the floor-when did I put them on? Have they ever been off? They frame my pussy perfectly, making my legs look longer, more fuckable. Everything about this body is designed for this moment. "Wait," he says. "Tell me yer name first." Name? I have a name? "I... cunt doesn't..." I struggle, something flashing in the empty spaces. "Elsie? Elise? No... just... just Master's property. Master's *thrack-slave*. Master's personal human cum-bucket." "What about yer wife?" Wife? The word means nothing. There's only Master, only cock, only the need that's about to be filled. "Cunts don't have wives. Cunts have Masters." "Perfect." He positions himself between my spread legs. His cock looks massive from this angle-twelve inches of green breeding meat topped with that purple mushroom head already leaking white tears. My pussy clenches at the sight, trying to pull him in from a distance. "*Please,*" I beg in pure Goblish now. "*Empty human pussy needs goblin cum. Womb cold and lonely. Eggs getting old. Please breed please breed please fucking BREED!*" He presses the head against my entrance. The first contact is electric. Like two puzzle pieces finding each other after centuries apart. My pussy lips kiss his cockhead, coating it immediately in my shame-honey. He pushes slightly and they part eagerly, desperate to swallow him.(playwhenread:"insert rough") One inch. "*OH FLUX-NO-STORAK! STORAK BLESS THIS COCK!*" The stretch is impossible. His cockhead is wider than anything should be, spreading virgin walls that have never known touch. But they yield-eager, grateful, reshaping themselves around him. My pussy is learning its purpose in real-time. Two inches. "*MORE! Pussy says MORE! Pussy says THANK YOU MORE!*" Three inches and he hits something-my hymen, that last pretense at purity. He grins down at me. "This is it, Slut-brain. Once I pop this, yer mine forever. No take-backs. No freedom. Just goblin cock forever." "*YES! POP IT! BREAK IT! FUCKING RUIN IT!*" He thrusts hard. (pic:"ch02/bad end/defloration.jpg","The membrane tears with a sound I swear I can hear-a wet rip that echoes through my bones.")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.70),(a:120,0.50),(a:250,0.58),(a:400,0.48),(a:600,0.55),(a:800,0.50),(a:1000,0.55),(a:1300,0.52),(a:1600,0.55),(a:2000,0.52),(a:2500,0.50),(a:3000,0.48),(a:3500,0.50)))) The membrane tears with a sound I swear I can hear-a wet rip that echoes through my bones. Pain flashes then immediately becomes pleasure as his cock slides deep, deep, DEEP. Six inches. Seven. Eight. "*FULL! PUSSY FULL! PUSSY HOME!*" But he keeps pushing. Nine inches and he hits my cervix, that final gate. It yields immediately, opening like it was waiting. Ten inches. Eleven. Twelve. Balls-deep in virgin pussy, his wiry pubes scratching my clit, his weight pressing me into dirt. I can feel him in my chest, in my throat, like his cock has displaced everything that used to be inside me and made room for itself. "Look at that," he breathes. "Human hero-cunt swallowing gobbo cock whole. Like ye were made for it." "*WAS! Was made for Master's cock! Pussy says thank you! Womb says welcome home!*"(playwhenread:"goblin fucking rough",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.48,"peakTo",0.60,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",580,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",55,"sustainMs",60,"releaseMs",90,"rampBeats",24,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10)) He starts moving. The first withdrawal is agony-my pussy clutches at him, trying to keep him inside. Walls that have molded to his shape collapse when empty. Then he pushes back in and they sing, reshape, remember. Out-my pussy weeps. In-my pussy rejoices. "Gonna bounce on me now," he commands, pulling me up. "Show me how bad human cunts need gobbo dick." (pic:"ch02/bad end/cowgirl.jpg","left")He lays back and suddenly I'm on top, his cock still buried to the balls.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.50,"peakTo",0.62,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",550,"intervalTo",360,"attackMs",65,"sustainMs",70,"releaseMs",95,"rampBeats",22,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.08)) The position makes him feel even deeper, pressing against organs that shift to accommodate. I plant my hands on his chest and start moving. The spike-heels help-giving me leverage to rise and fall. My tits immediately begin their dance, swinging in chaotic circles. Left-swing-up-right-down. No pattern, just flesh obeying gravity and momentum. They're so heavy they have their own rhythm, hitting their peak a heartbeat after my hips, creating this wave motion through my whole body. "*LOOK! Look at human cow riding! Tits bouncing! Pussy gripping! This what humans are for! Not fighting-FUCKING! Not swords-COCKS!*" (hidden_gem:"My pussy makes obscene squelching sounds with each bounce.","My pussy produces putrid, perverted squelching sounds with each pornographic bounce.") I'm so wet the sounds echo off the walls-SQUELCH-PLAP-SQUELCH as I rise and fall. My pussy cream foams where we connect, white bubbles forming from the friction. His cock emerges shiny with my fluid only to disappear again, over and over, a magic trick that makes my brain melt. "Stupid human," he grunts, reaching up to slap my bouncing tits. They fly sideways from the impact, swinging back to collide with each other. "Thought ye were special. Just another cunt needin' gobbo seed." "*YES! Stupid! Stupid human cunt! Should have found Master sooner! Wasted years having thoughts when should have been breeding!*" I'm riding harder now, desperate. My thighs burn from the effort but I can't stop. Each downstroke makes his balls slap against my ass. Each upstroke makes my pussy clutch and beg. The rhythm becomes everything-bounce-squeeze-bounce-squeeze-like my heartbeat has moved to my cunt. "All humans should be property," I babble, lost in the fuck. "All human women just walking wombs. Should thank goblins for showing purpose. Should-*OH FUCK OH STORAK OH MASTER!*" (pic:"ch02/bad end/sex ride.jpg","gif","My first orgasm as property hits like a revelation.")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.62),(a:350,0.74),(a:700,0.70),(a:1050,0.82),(a:1400,0.76),(a:1750,0.88),(a:2100,0.82),(a:2450,0.94),(a:2800,0.88),(a:3150,1.0),(a:3500,0.92),(a:3850,0.96),(a:4200,0.88),(a:4550,0.92),(a:4900,0.82),(a:5250,0.85),(a:5600,0.75),(a:5950,0.78),(a:6300,0.65),(a:6650,0.68),(a:7000,0.56),(a:7400,0.46),(a:7800,0.36),(a:8200,0.26),(a:8700,0.18),(a:9200,0.10),(a:9800,0)))) My first orgasm as property hits like a revelation. My pussy convulses around him, squeezing in waves that start at my entrance and ripple up to my cervix. Clear fluid gushes out, soaking his balls, puddling on his thighs. I keep bouncing through it, tits slapping together, voice breaking on screams that aren't Common or Goblish but something older, more honest. "That's one," he counts. "Let's see how many before I breed ye proper." "*BREED NOW! Please Master breed now! Pussy ready! Womb empty! Need goblin babies! Need Master's cum!*" But he just grins, grabs my hips, starts pulling me down harder on each bounce. The impacts get violent-flesh slapping flesh, his cockhead hammering my cervix, those massive balls drumming against my ass. "Tell me what happened to the hero," he demands. "*DEAD! Hero dead! Drowned in pussy juice! Only cum-slave now! Only thrack-meat! Only Master's property!*" My second orgasm builds before the first ends. This one's deeper, starting in my bones and spreading outward. My tits leak. Actually leak, clear fluid from my nipples like my body's trying to cum from everywhere at once. "*Human body knows truth now! Every hole wants goblin! Mouth-pussy, throat-pussy, womb-pussy, all saying YES! All saying THANK YOU! All saying MORE!*" His cock swells inside me. Gets impossibly thicker. His balls draw up tight against my ass. "Here it comes, Breed-sow. Yer first proper load of gobbo cream. Ready to be a mother?" (simple_option:"02 bad end","'*YES YES YES BREED ME BREAK ME REMAKE ME-*'")

(change_stat:"heroism",-100)($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience",0)(pic:"ch02/bad end/cooking.jpg","They even have my green eyes...") ($play:"song","goblin ending")(if:$choice is "The months pass by...")[The desert hare bubbles in the pot, sage sprinkled overtop. My swollen belly presses against the rough wooden counter as I lean forward to sprinkle more herbs, the same blend I used to... The memory slips away like oil through fingers. Doesn't matter. What matters is Master Snib likes his meat tender. "Mummy! Mummy! Grotch is pullin' me hair!" "Now, now, little Pustule," I coo, not turning from the stove. "Share nicely with your brother or there'll be no milk-sacks before bed." *THWAP!* Something small and green collides with my ass, making the flesh ripple. It's Maggot, the runt, trying to climb up my leg to reach my hanging udders. Poor thing got the worst feeding spot-my left tit that produces less. The stronger boys, Grotch and Scab, have already latched onto my right, their sharp teeth clamped around my nipple as they suckle. (hidden_gem:"The pulling sensation sends warm tingles through my chest.","The pulling, pulsing sensation sends sweet, spreading tingles through my swollen chest.") "There's enough booyagh milk for everyone," I murmur, feeling the familiar rush as my ducts open. The milk flows in spurts-I can feel it traveling from deep in my chest through the passages, erupting into their greedy mouths. Each pull makes my knees weak, sends that lovely warmth pooling between my legs. *CRASH!* "Wart! Get off the table!" Snib barks from his chair. "Bad splurtling! We don't piss on furniture!" I turn, spatula in hand, to see little Wart-only three months old but already walking-standing on our dining table with his tiny cock out, a stream of yellow arcing onto the wood I scrubbed this morning. "Oh, Wart," I sigh, waddling over with Grotch and Scab still attached to my teats, their weight making my back ache. "Daddy's right. We make skeet-ground outside, remember?" Snib spanks the pup's bottom-not hard, just corrective. "When ye get yer own humie breed-hole, ye can piss wherever. But this is DADDY'S home." "Yes, Daddy!" Wart squeaks, then launches himself at my left tit, fighting Maggot for position. (pic:"ch02/bad end/milk.jpg","right","Isn't he just adorable?")The sensation of four mouths on my nipples-Grotch and Scab on the right, Maggot and Wart battling over the left-makes me gasp. The milk practically GUSHES now, responding to their need. I feel it draining from the ducts, that delicious emptying sensation as they gulp and slurp. "Good boys," I pant, returning to the stove on shaking legs. "Drink up. Get big and strong so you can find girls with proper booyagh asses to breed." My belly shifts-the new litter kicking. Five more splurtlings growing in my cum-tank. Master Snib made sure to womb-thrack me good last sennight when my bleeding stopped. The collar, I barely notice it anymore, warms with approval. "Dinner's ready!" I announce, plating Snib's portion with care. Tender meat, crisped at the edges. Just how he likes it. He tucks in immediately, gnawing with those broken teeth. "Good cow," he grunts between bites. "Proper meal." I beam with pride, then sit at my place. The splurtlings know what comes next-they SQUEAL with excitement, even tiny Wart bouncing on his little legs. "Help Mummy with her dinner!" Snib commands, already climbing onto the table, his cock hardening. Grotch and Scab-such good strong boys-grab my cheeks from either side, their little claws digging in as they PULL my mouth wide open. I let them, tilting my head back obediently as Master Snib positions himself over my face, his balls dangling above my nose. The smell-onions and musk and HOME-fills my nostrils. "Open wide for Daddy's nut-drain," he grunts, already stroking. His cock twitches, and the first rope of ball-sludge erupts. It doesn't spray. Too thick for that. Instead it EXTRUDES from his cockhole like paste from a tube, a yellowed rope of concentrated cum that drops directly onto my tongue. The taste floods my mouth-bleach and cheese and NUTRITION. My throat works automatically, swallowing as fast as it pours out. Some misses, splattering across my cheeks, running down to pool in my swollen cleavage. "Good Mummy!" Pustule cheers, latching back onto my tit to feed while I feed. More cum. Thicker now, with those cottage cheese clots I've learned to chew before swallowing. It coats my throat, fills my belly with warmth. This is my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Master's seed-gift that keeps my milk-sacks full for the splurtlings. *GLORP-GLORP-GLORP* "Look at Mummy eat!" Grotch laughs, yanking my nipple so hard milk SPRAYS across the room. The sensation, being milked while being fed, sends those wonderful sparkles through my body. My thighs start to shake. That familiar pressure builds in my breed-hole. Master Snib finishes with a grunt, the last thick ropes draping across my face like decoration. I carefully wipe my lips with one finger, making sure to get every drop, then lower myself to hands and knees. My pregnant belly touches the floor, the splurtlings inside kicking at the pressure. There are puddles of cum on the floor-beautiful yellow-white pools of Master's gift. I lower my head and begin lapping like the good breed-cow I am. My tongue works efficiently, gathering every precious drop while the pups dance around me, slapping my hanging udders and making them spray milk. "SQUEEEEE!" Wart manages to latch on from below, lying on his back and nursing while I clean. The combination, the taste of cum, the pulling on my nipples, the weight of my bred belly, pushes me over. My breed-hole CLENCHES and- *SPLOOOOOOORT* I squirt. Hard. A massive arc of clear juice that paints the wall behind me. My whole body shakes as waves of pleasure crash through me, making my milk let down even harder. The pups SQUEAL with delight at the show. "Dirty cow!" Snib spanks my ass HARD, making the flesh jiggle. "Makin' a mess when the boys already pissed everywhere!" "Sorry, Master!" I gasp, still squirting in pulses. "Just feels so booyagh when they feed!" The pups learn fast. Soon six little hands are spanking my ass, making it bounce and clap while I leak and spray. "Thank you, Master," I pant, cum dripping from my chin, milk from my nipples, squirt from my cunt. "Thank you for my perfect life." And I mean it. This is where I belong.](else-if:$choice is "Months later...")[(pic:"ch02/bad end/happy.jpg") "Grotch, sweetling, stop pulling on mama's milk-sacks so hard! You'll get your turn-" *YANK* "Ohhh!" The sound escapes me as little Grotch-barely two months old but already strong-latches onto my left nipple with teeth like broken glass. The milk RUSHES out, hot streams that make my whole breast tingle with that sweet-ache of emptying. I steady myself against the cooking pot, my swollen belly, seven months with the third litter, pressing against the mud-brick stove I built myself. Inside, desert hare sizzles with sage. The smell fills our hut with warmth. "Pustule, darling, share with your brother-there's only two milk-sacks and six of you!" The runt, Scab, is trying to climb my leg to reach the right tit where his bigger brothers feed. His little claws dig into my thigh, making me gasp. Such eager little splurtlings! Always so spunk-heavy for mama's milk! *CRASH* "WAAAAGH!" Maggot has knocked over the water bucket again, sending it rolling across the packed-dirt floor I swept this morning. He's wrestling with his twin, Fungus, both of them squealing in that sweet baby Goblish. "My my," I murmur, waddling over-my walk is different now, permanently bow-legged from all the thrakking, all the breeding. "Master Snib, could you-?" "Oi! Maggot!" Snib barks from his chair, the good one, with actual cushions I stuffed myself. "Stop pissin' on me floor! Ye piss OUTSIDE like proper gobbo!" I watch with such pride as Snib teaches our sons. He's wearing the new loincloth I made from stolen merchant silk-only the best for my breeding-master! "Sorry Da!" Maggot squeaks, then immediately goes back to fighting. *SLAP!* Snib's palm connects with my ass-so much bigger now, perfect breeding-haunches that jiggle for ages after impact. "Gonna get yer own humie whore someday, boys! Just like yer da got the best cum-tank in Zaelasia!" "Yes Master," I say sweetly, feeling the warmth spreading from where he touched me. My pussy-my breed-hole-immediately starts drooling. It always does when he touches me. "Dinner's almost ready. Boys, please help set daddy's place!" The chaos is immediate. Grotch releases my nipple with a wet POP, milk still dripping from his green lips, and races to grab plates. Pustule climbs the shelves, knocking things over. Scab tries to carry a fork twice his size. I plate Snib's meal with care-the best cuts of hare, seasoned just right. My swollen tits swing heavily as I lean over, milk dripping steadily onto the floor. The splurtlings immediately start lapping it up like puppies. "Here you are, Master," I say, setting it before him. "Meat first, then mama gets her meal-feeding." "Good cow," he says, already tearing into the hare. I lower myself carefully onto the bench-my belly makes everything difficult now. The babies inside kick constantly, eager to join their brothers. Soon I'll have nine mouths on my milk-sacks! Such blessing! "Tell us about the hero again, Da!" Grotch demands, climbing onto the table. "Which one? The one whose wife I'm gonna thrack next?" Snib grins, juice running down his chin. "The one with the silly name! Al... Al-something!" "Aldric!" Snib laughs. "Aldric the Great! Thought he was so strong, but came like a bitch first time he got proper gobbo cock!" Something flutters in my chest. Like remembering a dream. Aldric... why does that name make me feel... "When you gonna breed-stuff his wife, Da?" Pustule asks. "Soon as this one," Snib points at me, "pops out the next litter. Gonna make that Elara squirt even harder than-" "Elara?" The name falls from my lips before I can stop it. Red hair. Laughter. A kitchen that smelled like sage and... "Yeah, his wife. Pretty thing, red hair. Gonna look good with green babies in her." I find myself crying. Sweet tears of... of something. "Poor Aldric," I sob. "He killed so many goblins. So terrible. Look at all these sweet boys named after the ones he murdered!" "MAMA'S CRYING!" Scab announces. "Happy tears, sweetling," I assure him, wiping my face. "Now, who wants to help mama with her meal-feeding?" "ME! ME! ME!" Six little voices chorus as I position myself on my knees. The familiar position-ass up, face down, ready for feeding. My pregnant belly presses against the floor, the babies inside responding to their brothers' excitement. "Hold her mouth open, boys," Snib instructs, standing on the table. Grotch and Pustule each grab one of my cheeks, their little fingers surprisingly strong as they pull my mouth wide. I see Master's beautiful cock-thick as my wrist, purple-headed, already drooling that wonderful cream that keeps me alive. "Say ahhh, mama!" Fungus giggles. "Ahhhhhhhh-" *SPLORTCH* The first rope of cum spurts directly onto my tongue. Thick, chunky, tasting of bleach and rot and HOME. My eyes roll back as I swallow, feeling it slide down my throat like warm porridge. But Master's spurting faster than I can swallow- *GLORP-GLORP-GLORP* (hidden_gem:"Cum overflows my mouth, running down my chin in yellowed rivers.","Cum cascades from my crammed mouth, coursing down my chin in chunky, yellowed channels.") "MAMA'S MAKING A MESS!" Maggot laughs, pointing at the cum pooling on the floor. More spurts-lazy, thick, endless. Each one makes my womb clench, makes my milk-sacks produce more. I can feel them filling even as the boys tug and suck, the cycle of nourishment. Master's seed becomes my milk becomes their strength. "Get it all, cow," Snib grunts, his balls pulsing. "Every drop of daddy's ball-sludge!" I try, but there's so much! It runs down my tits, pools on my pregnant belly, drips between my legs. The smell-that wonderful smell of breeding and ownership-fills my nose. "Look! Mama's breed-hole is drooling!" Scab points at my pussy, which is indeed gushing clear fluid. "Means she's happy!" Grotch explains with authority. Finally, Master stops spurting. I carefully lick my lips, gathering every precious drop, then lower myself further-face to the floor, ass high-and begin lapping the puddles like a dog. "Good mama!" Pustule pats my head. "Cleaning up!" The taste on the floor is mixed with dirt but I don't care. Each swallow makes my pussy clench, makes my milk flow harder. The boys are all over me now-hanging from my tits, slapping them to make them swing, squealing with glee as milk sprays everywhere. "She's gonna-look! MAMA'S GONNA SQUIRT!" They know the signs. My thighs shaking. My breath coming in gasps. That special moan that means- "HNNNNNGGAAAHHH!" *SPLOOOOOOOSH* I cum so hard my vision whites out. Pussy-juice ERUPTS from my breed-hole, spraying backward in massive arcs. It splatters the wall, the floor, makes obscene puddles that mix with the cum I'm still licking. "MAMA MADE A MESS!" they all scream in delight. *CRACK!* Snib's palm on my ass. "Dirty cow! Squirtin' all over me clean floor!" *CRACK! CRACK!* "Yeah! Dirty mama!" Grotch adds his little hand. *slap!* Then they're all doing it-six pairs of little hands spanking my massive ass as I cum and cum and cum, still licking Master's seed from the floor, still feeding milk to whoever latches on. "Such a good life," I gasp between licks. "Such good boys. Such a strong master. So much booyagh in my belly!" "Tell us about the hero again!" Scab demands, now hanging from my left tit like a fruit. "The one who thought he was strong!" Snib laughs, watching me clean his cum from the floor. "Tomorrow I'll tell ye how he begged. How he cried. How he came on gobbo cock like the bitch he always was!" I don't know why, but something deep inside me sobs at that. Happy tears. They must be happy tears. After all, I love my life. Don't I?](else:)[Three months. Or is it four? Numbers stopped mattering when my belly started swelling again I waddle around the hut, the weight of triplets making every step an effort. My tits-Storak's blessing, they're magnificent now-leak constantly through the rough cloth I sometimes remember to wrap them in. Two goblin pups suckle as I work, their green hands kneading the flesh while their sharp teeth worry my nipples raw. My firstborn. Master's proudest achievement. "More sage in the stew, Milk-sow," Master calls from his furs where he's counting coins. Business has been good since word spread that he has a trained human breeder. Heroes come to rescue me sometimes. I help Master set the traps. "*Yes Master, sage makes good flavor for strong goblin boys,*" I chirp in the pidgin of Common and Goblish that's all I speak now. The pups detach with wet pops, milk dripping from their green chins, and I feel the third one in my belly kick. Always kicking. Always hungry like their father. "That last hero, the woman with the sword..." Master grins. "She's adjusting well. Reminds me of someone." "*All humans same,*" I giggle, stirring the pot with one hand while the other holds my massive belly. "*Think they special. Then learn they just holes with attitudes.*" He bought me a name last month at the desert market. Elise. It's burned into a leather collar I wear above the iron one. He says I earned it by birthing so well. I cried with joy when he put it on me. A name. A real name. More than property deserves. I waddle over to him, belly leading, and drop to my knees. It takes effort with all this extra weight. My pussy-still hungry even stretched from birthing-drools onto the floor. Always wet now. Master says it's because my body knows its purpose. "*Master so smart. Soon have two breeders. Make lots of gold. Lots of babies.*" "Yeah. Though you're still me favorite, Cunt-for-brains." The name makes me glow with pride. I lean forward to nuzzle his cock through his loincloth-already hard from watching me waddle around leaking milk and babies. This is happiness. This is home. This is all there ever was or needs to be. "*Thank Master for life. Thank Master for purpose. Thank Master for babies.*" "Thank me with that throat later. After the new girl watches. Good for her education." "*Yes Master. Throat-pussy always ready. Always hungry.*" I go back to cooking, pups reattached to my udders, triplets kicking in my womb, pussy dripping its constant need. Outside, I hear chains rattling. The new girl. She'll learn. They always do. Heroes just need proper teaching. The stew smells perfect-rabbit with sage, just like someone once taught me to make. Someone whose name I'll never remember again.] (set:$bad_end to (dm:"title","Broodmare"))(display:"unlock bad end")(gameover:"ch02/bad end/game over notext.jpg")

($play:"ambience","desert morning")(if:$dream is 1)[**THWACK!**(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.46),(a:120,0.28),(a:280,0.16),(a:450,0.08),(a:620,0)))) "YEEEAAAHH!" The shriek tears from my throat, high and feminine. My whole body jerks in the straw. My tits, crushed all night in these metal triangles, **LURCH** forward with such violence they nearly escape their prison, nipples scraping raw against the scales. **SMACK!**(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.44),(a:110,0.28),(a:260,0.16),(a:420,0.08),(a:580,0)))) "Wakey-wakey, jiggle-meat!" Another blow lands on my other cheek. The soft flesh ripples outward from the strike. *Why is there so much of it?* Aftershocks roll through fat, the metal thong **CHING**-ing as it saws deeper between my cheeks. I'm on my side in putrid straw, these massive udders stacked like sacks of grain, the bottom one completely numb from being crushed all night. My calves are locked in permanent cramps from the heel-boots, my spine twisted from trying to find ANY position where the armor doesn't cut into me, and this little green *shit* is drumming my ass like festival drums. **WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!**(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:500,0.38),(a:1000,0.42),(a:1150,0.26),(a:1350,0.16),(a:1550,0.08),(a:1750,0)))) (hidden_gem:"Each strike makes my ass cheeks clap and ripple, flesh rolling in waves.","Each strike sends my ass cheeks clapping, clenching, rippling in revolting, roiling waves.") "Ssstop-" It comes out as a moan. His last slap arched my spine, my tits swung, scales bit into my nipples- **CRACK!**(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.52),(a:100,0.35),(a:220,0.25),(a:400,0.40),(a:520,0.28),(a:700,0.18),(a:900,0.10),(a:1100,0)))) Open palm across both cheeks at once, hard enough that my hips buck forward, the thong sliding against-against- "GNAAAAHHH!" Another squeal as I try to roll away, but there's nowhere to go. These tits throw off my balance, flopping like fresh-caught fish, and my legs are tangled in the chain connected to my collar. "Listen to them sounds!" He's delighted, grabbing a handful of my ass. His whole hand barely covers half of one cheek. "All high and squeaky! Where's that big deep hero voice, eh? Left it in yer cock?" Morning light through the cracks. I'm sprawled in straw that reeks of piss. Black hair matted with sweat and hay. My ass already turning red, flesh jiggling with each panicked breath. Elara's reaching for me right now. Finding cold sheets. While a creature I've slaughtered by the hundred drums my ass like a war-drum- **SLAP!**(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:120,0.26),(a:300,0.16),(a:500,0.08),(a:800,0.20),(a:1000,0.25),(a:1300,0.22),(a:1600,0.15),(a:1900,0)))) "Got housework fer ye today!" He announces, giving my reddened cheek a squeeze that makes me whimper. "Gonna make me home sparkle! Scrubbin' floors, washin' me clothes, organizin' me trophies proper-like!" "An' ye're gonna do it with the RIGHT ATTITUDE!" **SPANK!** "Gonna smile!" **SPANK!** "Gonna shake them tits while ye work!" **SPANK!** "Gonna thank Master Snib fer the privilege!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:120,0.24),(a:900,0.42),(a:1020,0.26),(a:1800,0.44),(a:1920,0.28),(a:2100,0.16),(a:2300,0.08),(a:2500,0)))) Each impact makes the armor jingle: scale against scale, chain against chain, metal against soft flesh that bounces and ripples long after each hit. Yelps and squeaks and breathless little "ah! ah! ah!"s pour out of me like a whorehouse hymn. "Say 'Yes, Master Snib!'"] (simple_option:"03 wakeup response","'F-fuck you...'","Stay silent, endure.","'Yes... Master Snib.'")

(set:$map to "img/maps/map 2.jpg")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")(masteraudio:"stopall")(chapter_title:3,"Domesticated")($play:"song","nightmare 2")($play:"ambience",0)(if:(get_choice:"02 sword tg","Fail Check") and (get_choice:"02 break down","Take it off."))[(pic:"ch03/dreams/dream 2 setting.jpg")($play:"ambience","night harvest") The harvest moon hangs fat and low over Eboncrest's common fields, casting everything in milk-light. I walk through grain that reaches my waist, each silken stalk whispering as I pass. My hands are calloused. My shoulders broad. My cock swings heavy between my thighs with each stride. Thank the Ephemerals. I'm myself again. It was all just a bad dream! The festival torches paint everything in amber and shadow. Ahead, the villagers work the harvest in the old way: women in loose linen dresses binding sheaves, their movements graceful as temple dancers. I recognize them: Mira the seamstress, her dark hair escaping its braid. Petra the cooper's daughter, freckled and full-lipped. The widow Ashara, still young enough that men watch when she bends. They're all watching me now. "Aldric!" Mira calls, straightening. The motion makes her breasts shift under thin fabric. No bindings underneath. "You're late for the reaping!" "Overslept," I say, and my voice is deep. RIGHT. Male thunder in my chest. Petra giggles, eyes traveling down my body with an openness that makes heat crawl up my neck. "Clearly. Did you forget your tunic?" I look down. I'm naked. Completely. My cock thick and heavy, balls hanging low in the warm night. But no one seems scandalized, just amused. Ashara winks. "It's Verge's night," she says, reaching down to adjust her neckline. The movement is casual, but it exposes the upper curve of one breast, pale as cream. "Thresholds require nakedness. Didn't the priests teach you anything?" The other women laugh. Harvest laughter. The kind that pulls you in. "Here." Mira tosses me something that glints in the moonlight. I catch it one-handed: Whisperwind, except curved like a reaping hook. The blade sings when I test it, the weight settling into my grip like it never left. "Let's see what the hero can harvest," Petra says, and there's something in her voice that makes my cock twitch despite myself. The grain isn't wheat. Each stalk is hair: long, black, silk-soft. It grows thick as yarn from the earth, swaying in wind that doesn't exist. When I reach down to touch it, the hair wraps around my fingers like it's alive. "Don't be shy," Ashara calls. She's stripped her dress to the waist now, breasts bare and heavy, nipples dark in the moonlight. "Cut deep!" I swing. My blade parts the hair-grain in a clean arc. The severed strands fall like water, and where they hit earth they BLOOM into more growth, spreading outward in ripples. Behind the cut, I see my reflection in a standing mirror I didn't notice before. The glass is old, warped, but clear enough. I watch myself swing again: bare-chested, muscled, cock and balls on full display. This is who I- The blade bites into the mirror. Glass cracks. But instead of shards, thick white fluid wells from the split, running down in heavy streams that steam in the cool air. Milk. The mirror is bleeding MILK. "Perfect!" Mira claps her hands. "Your first harvest!" The women converge, carrying buckets, collecting the milk-blood. They're all topless now, I realize. All of them bare-breasted, their tits swaying as they work. Mira's are small and high, nipples like rose petals. Petra's hang heavier, bouncing with each movement. Ashara's stretch down past her ribs, aureoles wide as my palm, dripping. Dripping? "Like this," Ashara says, stepping close. She cups her right breast, both hands needed for its weight, and squeezes. A thick stream of white arcs out, splashing into the furrow at our feet. "See? Easy." (pic:"ch03/dreams/dream 2 a.jpg")(set:$dream to 2) (hidden_gem:"Petra mirrors the motion, milk misting from her nipples in twin streams.","Petra performs the process, milk misting marvelously from her nipples in twin, tremendous streams.") "The moon teaches all women," Mira says, nodding up at the sky. I follow her gaze. The moon isn't right. It hangs too low, close enough to touch if I could reach high enough, swollen and obscene, stretched tight as a breast about to burst. I can see veins crawling across its surface, pulsing with dim light. The craters aren't craters but aureoles, and from the dark spot at its center- Milk begins to rain. Warm. White. Thick enough to mat in my hair, run down my face, coat my shoulders. The women laugh and spin in it, tilting their faces up, opening their mouths. It soaks their dresses transparent, clings to their skin. Some of it runs down my chest. Where it touches, my skin tingles. Burns. Changes. "Don't fight it," a voice says behind me. Elara. (pic:"ch03/dreams/dream 2 b.jpg","right","She stands at the field's edge in a harvest dress, golden fabric that clings to curves more pronounced than I remember.")She stands at the field's edge in a harvest dress, golden fabric that clings to curves more pronounced than I remember. Her belly swells round with child, so large she has to lean back slightly. Her breasts have doubled, tripled, straining the neckline until it gaps. Red hair cascades over bare shoulders. "My love," I say, relief flooding through me. "I had the strangest dream. I thought I'd become-" "Shh." She smiles, beautiful and serene, one hand cupping the underside of her gravid belly. "Come. Let me show you something." I follow her toward the barn. The other women watch us pass, their hands still working their own breasts, milk splashing into the furrows. The grain-hair grows taller from the feeding, reaching toward the lactating moon. Inside the barn, the smell hits first: sweet hay and warm bodies and something musky underneath. Elara turns to face me, that smile still fixed in place. Moonlight through the slats paints bars across her body. "Kiss me," she says, lips parting. I lean in. Her mouth opens wider. Wider. Her jaw hinges impossibly, and from the darkness of her throat crawls- Snib. Wet and grinning, no bigger than a rat, scrabbling up her tongue and onto her teeth. "Surprise, hero!" His voice echoes from inside her. "Told ye I'd visit the wife!" I stumble back, horror washing through me. Elara laughs, her voice doubled with Snib's cackling. She grabs her own breasts, squeezing them like Ashara showed. Instead of milk, thick ropes of something yellower, chunkier, spray out. The barn walls are bleeding it too. Every wooden slat weeps goblin seed in viscous sheets. I look down at my own chest. Two mounds push out from my pectorals, swelling like bread dough. My nipples darken, spread, pucker outward. The weight grows, pulls. I cup them instinctively and they fill my palms, keep filling, spilling over. Heavy as grain sacks. Soft as fresh butter. "There we are," Elara coos. Snib crawls onto her shoulder, both of them watching me with matching yellow eyes. "Now you can help feed them." The floor splits open. From the cracks, goblin babies sprout like turnips, green and squalling, reaching up with grasping hands. Dozens. Hundreds. The barn fills with their chittering hunger. Elara kneels gracefully despite her belly, lifts one to her breast. It latches on, suckling greedily. She looks at me with those wrong eyes. "Your turn, *dear*. Don't let them starve." The babies surge toward me. Clambering up my legs, reaching for my chest, for my TITS, with wet, toothless mouths. The weight of them pulls me down. I fall to my knees in the hay, my new breasts swaying forward, and- Something grabs my ass. Hard. Spanks it with a crack that echoes through the barn. "Wakey, wakey-" *THWACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.48),(a:120,0.30),(a:280,0.18),(a:450,0.10),(a:620,0.05),(a:800,0)))) (display:"divider") Cold air slaps my face. My eyes snap open to dingy mud-brick walls. Hay poking into soft skin. And Snib's warty hand raised for another strike. *THWACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:110,0.28),(a:260,0.16),(a:420,0.08),(a:580,0.04),(a:740,0)))) "-tits! Time fer yer first day of service!"](else-if: (get_choice:"02 sword tg","Fail Check") and (get_choice:"02 break down","Keep the armor on."))[The temple vaults rise in familiar geometry, stone ribs holding up painted heavens. I kneel before Eon's altar in full ceremonial plate, the weight of it a comfort. This is the Blessing of Blades, the ritual my mother told me about. Every knight must present their sword to the Triad before it drinks its first blood. Whisperwind rests across my gauntlets. The blade catches candlelight, throws it back pure and hungry. The priest approaches, robes hanging wrong on his frame, too long, dragging in pooled wax. His face hides in shadow beneath his cowl. Good. Proper. The Ephemerals' servants walk veiled during consecrations. "You come seeking blessing," he says, but the voice grates like stone on stone. "I do." My own voice echoes. Strong. Male. Right. "Then receive." More priests emerge from shadow: dozens of them in golden vestments, but their faces are Snib's. All Snib. Yellow eyes and broken teeth, chanting: *"What was sword shall be sheath. What was, is, will be-breeding. Through Eon's memory, through Flux's turning, through Verge's door-"* They lift Whisperwind from my hands. I try to protest but my voice won't come. The lead priest-Snib raises a golden chalice over my blade. "By the Three Paths, we consecrate this steel-" The "oil" pours out thick as porridge, yellow-white with chunks. The stench makes my eyes water as it splashes across Whisperwind's fuller. But instead of running off, the blade *drinks* it, the metal darkening from silver to diseased bronze, pulsing like a throat swallowing. ($play:"ambience","chanting dream") My armor begins to burn. Wet heat, like being digested. The breastplate softens, pressing inward AND pushing OUT. Two mounds rise from my chest, the metal flowing like mercury to accommodate them, reshaping into triangular cups that barely contain the swelling flesh. (pic:"ch03/dreams/dream 1.jpg")(set:$dream to 1) (hidden_gem:"The congregation behind me moans in unison.","The congregation croons and cries in corrupted chorus.") I turn to hundreds of women, all with my face but Elise's body, bellies swollen to bursting. They're touching themselves through armor exactly like what mine is becoming, their voices Elara's but the words wrong: *"He was, he's not, he'll never be again. Through the womb-door. Through the breeding-threshold. Remake him, blessed Snib-"* My codpiece cracks. Falls. There's nothing there. Smooth. Empty. A vertical slit opening like a mouth, already wet. The altar-cunt DILATES. Inside, I see Whisperwind being pulled through, transformed: the blade shortening, handle thickening into something obscene. The priest-Snibs press their warty hands to my armor, kneading my body like dough underneath. My waist narrows. Hips widen. The metal flows and reshapes, each piece smaller, revealing more flesh that shouldn't exist. "The Cathedral is Mother," they chant. "And Mother births what Master needs-" The walls contract. The ceiling-cervix opens wider. We're inside something living, something that's digesting my knighthood and shitting out- The lead priest raises his hand to strike the final blessing across my ass- **THWACK!** I jerk awake, the dream-cathedral collapsing into Snib's shit-stinking hut. His hand just left my ass, the sting radiating through soft flesh I shouldn't have. "Wakey-wakey, tit-slave! Sun's up!"](else-if:(get_choice:"02 break down","Keep the armor on."))[(pic:"ch03/dreams/dream 3 a.jpg","The Grand Drilling Yards of Thuulk stretch before me like a chessboard of polished granite.")(set:$dream to 3) The Grand Drilling Yards of Thuulk stretch before me like a chessboard of polished granite, each square large enough to hold a century of men. Bronze braziers taller than horses burn at the corners, their smoke carrying the sharp bite of sanctified oils, the same blessing-reek we paint on shields before marching to Sirath's bloody shores. ($play:"ambience","army")(playwhenread:"seventh legion") "SEVENTH LEGION!" My voice carries across the thousand men arrayed before me. "PRESENT... ARMS!" The crash of steel echoes off the palace walls as weapons snap to salute position. Perfect. These boys will be ready for the spring offensive. The green recruits from the provinces, the grizzled sergeants who've survived three tours across the sea, the eager squires who think war is glory. I've forged them all into killing instruments. I stride the first rank, checking blade angles, shield positions, the set of shoulders. My armor feels... light today. Must be the new padding the quartermaster issued. These men need to see strength, need to believe their battlemage commander can lead them through Sirath's meat grinder and bring them home. "You there, Recruit!" I bark at a fresh-faced boy, barely sixteen. "State your **First Oath** when facing Sirathi pike formations!" "Sir! Maintain shield-wall integrity while the second rank probes for-" He stops. His eyes have dropped to my chest. I look down. My breastplate has... changed. The hammered steel curves outward in two massive swells, the metal thinning to triangular scales that barely contain- (playwhenread:"eyes forward")"Eyes FORWARD, soldier!" But my voice comes out wrong. Higher. Breathier. Like I'm trying to seduce rather than command. The recruit is ME. Sixteen-year-old me, joining the colors after Father died in the mines. His face flushes red but he can't look away from how my transformed armor presents these impossible breasts, nipples visible through gaps in the scales. I turn to address the legion and see them all clearly now. Every face is mine at different ages. Twenty-two-year-old Aldric who slew the marsh drake. Twenty-eight-year-old Aldric receiving his captain's commission. Hundreds of myselves, watching as their commander's armor continues its obscene metamorphosis. The leather war-skirt shrinks, rides up, becomes a metal thong that parts my ass cheeks like a canyon through mountains. My sabatons reshape into towering heel-spikes that force my spine into a presenting arch. The sword-belt slides down my hips no matter how I clutch at it, Whisperwind's weight pulling it past the swell of this impossible ass. (pic:"ch03/dreams/dream 3 b.jpg","left")"MAINTAIN FORMATION!" I try to roar, but it emerges as a sultry plea. My tits, Eon's bones, they're so HEAVY, bounce with each word, the scale-mail cups shrinking further. From the command platform, the Marshal-General descends for inspection. The clink of his medals precedes him, but when he rounds into view- It's Snib. Three feet eight inches of warty green authority stuffed into a uniform dripping with stolen valor. Behind him, the entire general staff: Colonel Snib, Major Snib, Captain Snib. A parade of goblins in human military dress, their massive bulges tenting regulation trousers. "Commander Elise," Marshal-Snib says, his voice maintaining that wet-gravel rasp even through aristocratic affectation. "Yer troops are... distracted." He's right. Every version of myself stares at my transformed body. The youngest recruits giggle, high, feminine sounds wrong in soldiers' throats. Their armor begins to shift too, breastplates developing curves, codpieces vanishing to reveal smooth metal groins.(playwhenread:"new regulations") "This is... this isn't regulation," I stammer, trying to cover my tits with one arm while the other attempts to hide the absence between my legs. "New regulations from His Majesty," Colonel-Snib announces, producing a scroll. "All hero-class warriors to report for reassignment. Comfort Battalion. Morale Support Division." "I'm a spellsword! I've killed a hundred-" "Says here ye've got the proper... qualifications." Major-Snib reaches up, even in my heels, he barely reaches my underboob, and WEIGHS one massive tit in his palm. "Perfect for the new position. Flat on yer back. Knees. All fours." The entire legion laughs. My past selves, all of them, pointing and jeering as my armor continues to shrink. The scale-mail top becomes pasties. The thong disappears entirely. I'm naked except for the collar that wasn't there before but has ALWAYS been there, its iron presence absolute. "But the war," I protest weakly, my voice now pure feminine music. "Sirath-the enemy-" "The enemy's between yer legs now," General-Snib grins, showing broken teeth. He turns to address MY troops: "MEN! Yer former commander will be serving the war effort in a new capacity! Servicing the... needs of our brave fighting forces!" They cheer. All my past selves cheer. (hidden_gem:"My glory years stand at attention, saluting my shame.","My glory years gather, grinning, giving grand salutes to my grotesque shame.") (playwhenread:"first inspection")"Time for yer first inspection," Marshal-Snib commands. "Bend over. Show the lads what they're fighting for." I can't stop myself. I bend at the waist, these massive tits hanging like udders, my ass presented to a thousand versions of who I used to be. The position feels military: precise, disciplined, regulation-approved degradation. "ATTENTION!" Snib barks. His hand comes down on my ass with the crack of thunder- *THWACK!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.48),(a:120,0.30),(a:280,0.18),(a:450,0.10),(a:620,0.05),(a:800,0)))) I jerk awake to Snib's actual palm striking my actual ass, the dream-spank becoming real impact on naked flesh. The parade ground dissolves into his stinking hut.](else:)[(pic:"ch03/dreams/dream 4 setting.jpg") The mission requires silence and depth.($play:"ambience","underwater") I swim through passages the dwarves abandoned when the lower galleries flooded: three hundred years ago by their reckoning, yesterday by the mountain's. The water here is wrong, viscous as pine-tar, purple-dark where my hand cuts through it. Green-blue algae paints the walls in ghost-light, just enough to see by. Just enough to know I'm alone. My cock trails behind me, heavy in the thick water, a rudder I use to navigate. The tactical situation is clear: something waits in the deepest chamber. Something that requires reaching. The flooded shafts narrow as I descend, squeezing through gaps that scrape my shoulders, my hips. The water grows warmer. My body understands what my mind hasn't accepted yet: too large for this. Too broad. Built for surface warfare, not this. The next squeeze costs me something. My cock detaches with a soft pop, painless as shedding a glove, and floats past my face. I watch it drift up toward air I left behind. Acceptable loss. Territory traded for position. The passage widens into a chamber shaped like a womb, all smooth curves carved by centuries of patient water. My chest aches from holding breath. Then doesn't. Swells instead, heavy with new ballast. Two weights hang from my ribs now, pale in the algae-light, tipped with peaks that drag against the viscous current. (hidden_gem:"This is still progress, still forward, still down.","This descent is definite, determined, driving deliberately downward.") The floor drops away beneath me. I dive. Deeper chambers. The water thickens to syrup consistency, each stroke requiring full commitment. My hips spread to assist the motion, become fins, become curves that cut through the medium with unexpected efficiency. Hair streams behind me, long and black, a navigation hazard I accept because turning back means surfacing as something that no longer fits the air. At the bottom: a door. White light embedded in black stone, pure as the gap between stars. Through it I see- Eboncrest. Our cottage. Elara at the stove, hair catching morning sun. And Aldric. *Aldric.* Tall and broad and male, arms around her waist, both laughing at something the future forgot to save. My past, preserved behind glass. I try to pass through. My body wedges in the frame: these new breasts, these hips, this softness that fills spaces the old body never knew existed. The door won't yield. Can't yield. The shape is wrong. So I do what the water taught me. I *unmake*. Flesh becomes fluid, pours through the keyhole like prayer through clenched teeth. I reform on memory's far side but the transformation stayed: breasts heavy as guilt, pussy empty as an abandoned shrine. The heroic Aldric doesn't see me. Neither does Elara. They move through their moment, that preserved fragment of joy, while I stand three feet away, invisible. A ghost haunting its own history. Aldric, the *real* one, the *kept* one, lifts armor from a peg and carries it to me without looking, begins dressing this new flesh like preparing a sacrifice. "You'll need this where you're going." His voice holds all the warmth of forged iron. The level rises. White. Thick. Flooding from passages above, from every crack and crevice, the entire cave system filling with viscous seed-weight liquid that reeks of spent purpose. It pours into the memory chamber, rising past my ankles, my knees, covering the scene of domestic bliss with milk-white deletion. I can swim back. Return to the surface as this creature, accept the collar's verdict, live in the body that fits through doors made for slaves and fucktoys and breeding-stock. Stand in sunlight that won't recognize me. (pic:"ch03/dreams/dream 4.jpg","Or I can dive.")(set:$dream to 4) Or I can dive. Deeper than caves. Deeper than the mountain's bones. Into cracks that predate kingdoms, that hold no air, no light, no compromise. Where even gods can't follow because they're too large, too defined, too certain of their own shape. I choose *down*. The white flood rises to my breasts. They float, obscene buoys. But I'm already gone, pulling myself hand-over-hand into a fissure so narrow it scrapes these new curves raw. The viscous white pursues, seeking every crevice, trying to fill me, make me, claim me for surface reality. But I'm faster. I'm smaller now. I can fit through gaps that heroism never reached. Total darkness. No algae here. No light. Just pressure and the certain knowledge that I'm going where nothing can name me, define me, own me. The bedrock self that existed before Aldric, that will exist after Elise, that remembers how to be without needing shape to prove it. The fissure tightens. My breasts compress, useful cushions now, letting me wriggle through stone that would skin muscle from bone. My ass provides purchase, so much flesh that I can pull forward when hands fail. Every part of this body becomes tool, becomes passage, becomes- Something strikes my ass. Hard. Echoing through the deep water like hammer on shield. Again. A slap that ripples through the viscous darkness. Again. And the darkness cracks, splits, bleeds desert light- (display:"divider") *CRACK!*(playwhenread:"spank 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.48),(a:120,0.30),(a:280,0.18),(a:450,0.10),(a:620,0.05),(a:800,0)))) "Wakey wakey, cow-tits! Got work to do!"] (if:(get_choice:"02 break down","Take it off."))[(pic:"ch03/morning nude.jpg","right") (simple_option:"03 rude","Reality crashes back in...")](else:)[(pic:"ch03/morning armor.jpg") (simple_option:"03 rude","A rude awakening...")]

(masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert morning")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/concentrated/1.png")($play:"ambience","desert morning")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")(playwhenread:"rain of spanks",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.44),(a:120,0.28),(a:280,0.16),(a:500,0.08),(a:700,0.42),(a:820,0.26),(a:980,0.14),(a:1200,0.06),(a:1400,0))))(if:(get_choice:"02 break down","Keep the armor on."))[**THWACK! THWACK!** Each strike lands like a wet paddle on dough. My ass ripples in waves that take full seconds to settle. *Flux's balls*, there's so much of it. The metal thong *CLINK-CLINKS* with each impact, riding deeper into the valley between cheeks that used to be iron-hard muscle, now just... meat. Wobbling meat that won't stop moving even after his hand leaves. I try to roll away but these *things* on my chest anchor me to the floor, dead weight hung from my ribs. Warrior's reflexes fire, and I flop like a landed fish, tits swinging in opposite directions, yanking my torso sideways. The armor's triangular cups have shifted in sleep: one nipple's escaped entirely, dragging across filthy straw while the other's being bisected by cold metal. (pic:"ch03/morning spank armor.jpg") "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" His phlegm-laugh sprays spittle on my exposed back. "Look at ye squirmin'! Like a grub tryin' to flip! All that hero-muscle turned to jiggle-flesh!"(playwhenread:"look at ye squirmin") My calves scream. The heel-boots locked my feet at that impossible angle all night. Tendons shortened, muscles seized. When I try to flex my toes, nothing happens. They're numb meat stuffed into metal. "Mmmmph!" tears from my throat. teeth catch my shoulder through sweat and morning light. That's how I know ($lorebook_entry:"Snib","people")'s warty fingers find purchase on my hip, rolling me onto my back. The motion sends everything into chaos: tits flopping toward my armpits, ass spreading wider than my shoulders used to be, the collar's weight shifting to choke my breath. Morning light through the cracks shows him perched above me like a gargoyle, wearing nothing but a fresh loincloth that does fuck-all to hide the morning tent of his cock. "Kept yer tin-tits on all night?" He reaches down, flicks the exposed nipple. Lightning shoots to my spine.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.38,"pulseMs",50,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Scared to show Master yer udders? HAHA! Nothing I won't see if I want, piglet. Yer *mine.*" He leans in close, too close, his breath hitting my face like opening a grave. His tongue, gray-green and too long, drags up my cheek in one wet stripe.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:300,0.12),(a:600,0.18),(a:900,0.22),(a:1200,0.18),(a:1500,0.12),(a:1800,0.06),(a:2100,0)))) "Mmmm, even yer sweat smells like flowers growin' in shit." Another lick, wet and rough across my eyelid. I flinch so hard my neck pops. "Fancy hero-sweat." I should grab his throat. Gouge his eyes. The collar clamps before the thought even finishes. "Got big plans today, me new maid!" He scrambles off, his cock bouncing with each movement, that purple head already leaking strings of precum. "See them?" He kicks a pile in the corner. Dark brown leather strips covered in flies, so crusty they don't even bend when disturbed. The stench wafts over: concentrated ball-sweat, dried cum, and something diseased. "Me under-wraps! All stiff-like, won't fold proper no more. Ye're gonna wash every one. Get 'em soft again. Use that pretty tongue if ye have to! HAHA!" My stomach turns. They're *fossilized* with his emissions. "Then ye'll scrub me floors-on them udders! Sweep out the bones-dancin' in them spike-boots! And find me breakfast somewhere, something that ain't moldy!" He counts on his fingers, struggling past three. "Make this place fit for... for... a RICH goblin! With a pretty she-slave!" He prances around me in a circle, his cock swinging like a battering ram, occasionally dripping precum that lands too close. The morning sun makes his green skin glisten with grease. "Never had me own place-cleaner before. Tribe always said Snib too small, too weak, never gonna get a female. But lookit what I got!" He plants his foot on my stomach, toes splaying across skin that used to be armor-hard abs, now soft as risen dough. "Got meself the biggest-titted hero-cunt in the kingdom! You!" (hidden_gem:"Each toe presses into yielding flesh.","Each gnarled goblin digit digs deep into doughy, docile flesh.") The world tilts wrong when I try to sit up. These tits pull me forward but my ass weighs me backward and my spine doesn't know where center is anymore. Used to spring from prone to standing in one motion. Now I'm beached, struggling against weights that shouldn't exist, metal edges sawing into tender flesh with each attempt. He leans down, grabs a handful of hair, silk-soft where it should be warrior-short, and *sniiiiiffs* deep. "Even yer head-fur smells like meadow-fuckin! How's that work? Ye been rollin' in shit-hay all night but smell like ye bathed in honey-water!" Another deep inhale. "Collar made ye perfect for gobbos, didn't it?"(playwhenread:"even yer head fur") REDESIGNED. Built from scratch to please a goblin. Outside, a desert lark calls to its mate. Elara's waking up right now in our bed. Alone. Running her hand across my empty pillow. She doesn't know I'm here, kneeling in filth while a goblin plans my day of scrubbing his shit. "Say 'Yes, Master Snib!'" A leash materializes around my head and he pulls it taut, forcing my head up at an angle that makes the collar bite. "Show me ye still understand who owns this wobble-meat now!"](else:)[(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.44),(a:120,0.28),(a:280,0.16),(a:500,0.08),(a:700,0.42),(a:820,0.26),(a:980,0.14),(a:1200,0.06),(a:1400,0))))**THWACK! THWACK!** Two more impacts. So MUCH ass. It ripples like water in a well. Each strike makes the flesh dance in ways that muscle never would, continuing to jiggle long after his palm leaves. I try to curl tighter but there's nowhere for all this meat to GO. My thighs press together and feel nothing but smoothness where- "Mmmph-stop-" The voice that comes out. High. Musical. Like I'm singing my protest instead of snarling it. My eyes crack open. Morning light through gaps in the mud walls. Hay needling into skin that bruises if you look at it wrong. And perched on my discarded armor like a gargoyle on a tombstone: Snib, every broken tooth on display, one warty hand still raised.(playwhenread:"lookit those haunches") (pic:"ch03/morning spank nude.jpg") "Look at them haunches DANCE!" He drums another quick pattern across my ass. *PAP-PAP-PAP-PAP*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:220,0.28),(a:440,0.32),(a:660,0.26),(a:880,0.16),(a:1100,0.08),(a:1300,0)))) "Like butter-soft bread dough! Could play music on these!" I try to roll away but forget. The... *tits.* They have their own momentum. When I turn, they keep going, dragging me further than intended, flopping across each other with a meaty *whap* that makes ($lorebook_entry:"Snib","people") cackle. My hands fly to cover them but there's too much. Flesh spills between my fingers. Stiff nipples catch between my knuckles and I hiss at the jolt. "HARHARHAR! Trying to hide me property?" He hops off the armor, it clatters, the sound of my former protection mocking me. "Them's MINE now, every bit. The sit-meat, the swing-bags, that smooth little-" "Don't." I pull my knees up, trying to hide everything at once. Impossible with this body. My ass juts out behind me, presenting itself whether I want it to or not. My tits compress between thighs and chest, nowhere near covered. Hair, so much fucking hair, falls across my face in black curtains. "'Don't' she says!" Snib scampers around me, his loincloth tented obscenely. That SMELL hits, concentrated piss-musk that makes my eyes water. "Yer gonna 'don't' me in me own home?" He pokes my exposed ass with something. A stick? His finger? Each contact makes the flesh dimple and spring back. "This place is a sty!" He announces, like he's just noticed. "And lucky me, I got meself a maid! Gonna make it proper-like. A home for... for..." His warty face scrunches in concentration. "A RICH goblin! With his own she-hero!" (pic:"ch03/wake up naked.jpg") I push myself up. Try to. First attempt fails because I expect my arms to have strength they don't. Second attempt sends my tits lurching forward with such weight I nearly faceplant. Third attempt, I manage to get to sitting, these udders resting on my thighs, back curved by their pull. Everything's wrong. My spine wants to arch ways it shouldn't. My hips are so wide that sitting straight means my legs splay. The gap between my thighs leads to- "Here!" Snib kicks my armor at me. "Can't have ye prancin' around all nude-like. Well, I COULD, but..." He scratches his balls through his loincloth, the sound audible. (hidden_gem:"The 'armor' lies there like a sick joke.","The 'armor' lies there like a lurid, laughable, lecherous joke.") Three triangles of black metal connected by chains. Yesterday they were just degrading. This morning they feel actively malicious. Because I need to put them on. (pic:"ch03/reaching for clothes.jpg") I reach for the top first. The clasps have migrated overnight, hidden themselves under where my breasts will sit. I have to hold one tit up with my elbow while my fingers search for the mechanism. The metal's cold against my nipple, making it tighten further, scraping as I try to position it. (pic:"ch03/put on bra 2.jpg") "That's it, wrestle them udders!" Snib's dancing foot to foot, his cock-tent bouncing. The first triangle cups maybe half of what it should. When I reach for the second, the first pops free. My tit bounces loose and Snib whoops like it's a festival trick. I try again. The chain's tangled now. I have to lean forward, tits hanging like ripe fruit, to untangle it. (pic:"ch03/put on bra 1.jpg") "Like cow-bags at milkin' time!" Ignore him. Get the armor on. Protect what little you can. Finally the top clicks into place. The triangles frame my tits more than cover them, pushing them up and together. The chains dig into my shoulders from the weight. When I breathe, the scales scrape across my nipples in a rhythm that makes me want to scream. (pic:"ch03/put on bra 3.jpg","right")The bottom piece, I can't think about it as underwear, waits like a trap. Standing is its own ordeal. Without the mass I'm used to, I overcompensate and stumble. My ass jiggles. My tits continue their bounce a full second after I stop moving. I step into the metal thong and pull it up, the single strip vanishing between my ass cheeks with a slick *schk* of metal on sweating flesh. "THERE she is!" Snib crows. "Me own personal hero-whore! Now-" He kicks a bucket at me. It clangs across the floor, stopping at my feet. "Well's outside. Water. Lotsa water. This place needs scrubbin'." I stare at the bucket. Yesterday I held Whisperwind. Today it's a bucket and my knees on a dirt floor. "Oh! And these-" He kicks over a pile of brown rags. No, not rags. His loincloths. The stench hits like a physical blow. They're crusty with dried... everything. Sweat, piss, cum, things I don't want to identify. "Wash these too. They's getting stiff. Don't bend right."(playwhenread:"make em clean and soft") "I'm not touching those." "Yes ye are." Matter of fact. "Yer gonna make 'em clean and soft. Gonna have to really work 'em too-beat 'em on rocks, scrub with sand." His grin widens. "Maybe suck on 'em to get the real deep stains out. HARHARHAR!" My stomach turns. Through the doorway, I can see the well, ancient stonework that predates the hut by centuries. The morning sun's already heating the sand. I'll have to walk out there dressed like this. The boots. Still on the ground where I dropped them. The heel-boots feel heavier this morning. When I sit to pull them on, my tits pool in my lap like sacks of warm dough, blocking my reach. I have to shove them aside with my forearms, grunting, just to grip the boot. The metal's shaped itself overnight: the inside curves to match my feet exactly, but in a way that forces my arches higher. When I stand, I immediately pitch forward. *CLOP-wobble-CLOP* "There we go!" Snib claps like a child at a puppet show. "Proper she-slave now!" The collar's weight seems doubled this morning. Cold iron shifts against my throat with each swallow. "Now then-" Snib yawns, showing all those broken teeth. "Want this place SPOTLESS by sunset. All clean-like, like a humie's. And start with the corner where I keep me treasures." He points to the wall decorated with women's smallclothes. "They need dustin'." He waddles toward the door, pauses. "Oh, and when I get back, yer gonna say it proper." "Say what?" "Ye know what." He's adjusting himself, that massive thing shifting in his loincloth. "When I tell ye to do somethin', ye say..." He waits, grinning. I stare at him. Hatred so pure it could melt steel. "Go on. Practice now. Say 'Yes, Master Snib!'"] (simple_option:"03 wakeup response","'F-fuck you...'","Stay silent.","'Yes... Master Snib.'")

(pic:"ch03/sullen.jpg")($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","desert blues") (if:$choice is "'F-fuck you...'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png")"F-fuck you..."(playwhenread:"not your maid") The words rip out of me. My heel, this fucking spike, SLAMS into the dirt floor. The impact shoots up my calf, makes these tits judder, but I don't care. "I'm not your thrakking maid! I'm not doing ANYTHING for-" (change_stat:"snib",-1)*YANK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:70,0.12),(a:250,0.18),(a:420,0.08),(a:580,0.12),(a:730,0.05),(a:880,0)))) The leash materializes from nothing. One moment my collar's just cold iron, the next there's a chain in Snib's fist and I'm pitching forward. These udders swing like siege engines and drag me down. Hands hit dirt. Knees follow. Ass in the air, face in the filth. "Awww, the hero's havin' a tantrum!" (pic:"ch03/dominate.jpg","His warty foot plants itself on my ass like I'm a fucking footstool.") His bare foot plants on my ass. STEPS on it like a footstool. The flesh dimples around his warty toes.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:300,0.18),(a:700,0.22),(a:1100,0.20),(a:1500,0.22),(a:1900,0.18),(a:2300,0.14),(a:2700,0.10)))) When he shifts his weight, my whole ass jiggles, the thong cutting deeper between the cheeks. "Fergot who owns ye already?" He yanks the leash again, dragging me backward. The metal triangles scrape across the floor, collecting dirt. "Lemme remind ye-" (hidden_gem:"His loincloth parts and that purple nightmare of a cock flops free.","His loincloth loosens and that lavender log of a cock lurches free.") The head grazes my lower back. Just grazes. The heat of it, the weight as it drags across my skin toward the valley of my ass-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:300,0.12),(a:600,0.18),(a:900,0.24),(a:1100,0.20),(a:1300,0.14),(a:1500,0.08),(a:1700,0)))) "NO!" I try to crawl forward but he's got the leash taut. This position, on all fours with him standing over me, his cock inches from- "Could do it right now," he muses, like he's considering breakfast options. "Just pull that little string aside and-" He makes a wet thrust motion. "Make ye a proper woman. Bet ye'd squeal like them village girls." My eyes burn. My fists clench on nothing. "But nah." He steps off my ass, lets the leash go slack. "Where's the fun in that? Rather watch ye CHOOSE it. Watch the great Aldric BEG for gobbo cock." He waddles to the corner, his half-hard cock swinging. "Look here." Whisperwind. My beautiful blade, my soul-sister, my- It looks like someone used it to scrape out a latrine. Goblin cum has dried in yellow-white sheets across the fuller, some places an inch thick. Stringy remnants hang like diseased spiderwebs from the crossguard. The inscription, ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO, seems to glow with malevolent pride through the cumcrust. "Even yer sword knows the truth." Snib flicks one of the dried cum-strings. It vibrates with a sound like a sick harp. "Says it right there. Goblin. Owned." Something cracks in my chest. The last load-bearing wall. "Say it." His voice drops. Casual. Like he already knows. "Say it proper and I'll even let ye clean that sword. Maybe use it! Got a cave needs clearin'. Gonna make ye earn yer keep doin' hero work." He grins. "Well, hero-WHORE work, but still." The words are grave-dirt in my throat. "Yes..." My voice cracks. "Master Snib." "THERE we go!" He claps his warty hands. "See? Easy! And hey-" His tone goes almost reasonable. "Ten thousand gold, remember? Make me rich, ye go free. I keep me word. Even told the collar so." Ten thousand. The number feels like another collar, tighter than the iron. "Now then-" He kicks the bucket toward me again. "Water's outside. Them loincloths won't wash themselves. And make 'em SOFT! Me balls is chafin'!" I stand, wobble-CLOP, and look at the pile of his loincloths. Pure archaeology. Layers of dried sweat, piss stains mapping unknown territories, cum fossilized into the leather. Flies worship at the pile like pilgrims. Using a stick from the kindling pile, I spear one. It doesn't bend. It CRACKS, then dangles stiff as armor. "Gonna need lots of scrubbin'!" Snib settles into his furs to watch me work. "Maybe soak 'em first. In yer mouth! HARHARHAR!" I carry the contaminated stick at arm's length, the bucket in my other hand. Each step makes my ass roll, these tits bounce in opposition. The morning sun through the doorway promises another humiliation: doing laundry like a common washerwoman while this creature watches. "Oh, Elise?" He uses that name deliberately, twisting it. "When yer at the well? Bend over proper-like. Wanna see them haunches work." The stick trembles in my grip. One thrust and I could- The collar bites down on my throat. Conversation over. I *CLOP-CLOP* toward the door, each step in these spike-heels a small surrender. Behind me, Snib starts humming. Some goblin tune about breeding. Outside, the desert morning waits with its ancient well and the promise of scrubbing goblin filth while my wife wonders why her husband never came home. (set:$map_position to (a:2504,2924))(map:) The flap-door swings shut behind me. Through the wall: "Yer gonna be the BEST slave-wife, Elise! Just wait!"](else-if:$choice is "Stay silent.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")My mouth opens. Nothing comes out. The words sit on my tongue like stones. Three words. Three syllables. But they won't move from thought to speech because speaking them makes it REAL. Makes this morning real. Makes yesterday real. Makes Elise real and Aldric- *Stop.* Elara woke up alone this morning. In our bed. The sheets still holding my shape, my scent. Did she reach for me? Did she- "OI!" Snib's voice cuts through. "I'm WAITIN', cow-tits!" I open my mouth again. Close it. My throat works but the collar seems to press tighter with each failed attempt, though that might just be my imagination. The words are right THERE. Just have to- Can't. (change_stat:"snib",-1)Won't. "Stubborn bitch, ain't ye?" Snib's voice shifts to something almost amused. The leash materializes in his fist, appears from nothing, chain links forming from smoke and malice. Before I can react, he YANKS.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:70,0.12),(a:250,0.18),(a:420,0.08),(a:580,0.12),(a:730,0.05),(a:880,0)))) My heel catches. I pitch forward, these ridiculous tits swinging like pendulums. My hands shoot out but too slow. I hit the dirt floor face-first, the impact cushioned by flesh that shouldn't exist. The armor JINGLES mockingly as everything jiggles into place. "Down where ye belong!" I try to push up but the leash goes taut again, keeping my face in the dirt. My ass sticks up behind me, split by that metal strip. I scramble forward on hands and knees but he just STEPS on one cheek. (pic:"ch03/dominate.jpg","His warty foot plants itself on my ass like I'm a fucking footstool.") His warty foot plants itself on my ass like I'm a fucking footstool. He weighs nothing. I freeze face-down, tits compressed beneath me. "See? Easy." His voice comes from above, casual as discussing weather. "Ye fight, ye fall. Ye run, ye choke. The collar knows. I know. When ye gonna learn, hero?" Something brushes the cleft between my ass cheeks. Something warm. Wet. His cock. The tip's emerged from his loincloth, that purple head weeping its poison. It slides along the metal thong, leaving a snail-trail of precum across the only thing separating him from-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:400,0.12),(a:800,0.20),(a:1200,0.26),(a:1500,0.22),(a:1800,0.16),(a:2100,0.10),(a:2400,0)))) "Could mount ye right now," he muses, almost to himself. His foot grinds into my ass flesh. "Sink it all in. Breed ye proper while ye sob into the dirt. Would be... mmm... *satisfying.*" (hidden_gem:"I can't breathe. Can't move. Can't do anything but lie here while he considers it.","I can't breathe, can't budge, can't battle-only bide here while he weighs his wants.") "But nah." He steps off, cock bobbing as he waddles toward the corner. "More fun this way. Watching ye break slow-like." He stops by the pile of refuse where Whisperwind lies. My sword. The morning light catches it. Or tries to. The blade that once threw back sunlight clean now sits caked in layers of dried seed. Goblin cum's gone from yellow-white to crusty brown, thick as candle wax in places, thin as parchment in others. Strands of it drape from crossguard to tip like cobwebs, swaying when Snib nudges the blade with his foot. The inscription, ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO, seems to glow with malevolent pride through the cumcrust. (pic:"ch03/whisperwind.jpg","Seventeen years. Seventeen years that blade sang for me.") "Look at 'er!" Snib taps the flat with his toes. Little flakes of dried spunk rain off. "Even yer sword knows the truth now. Says it right there. GOBLIN. OWNED." Seventeen years. Seventeen years that blade sang for me. Through basilisk nests and troll warrens, through the Underworks and the Blood Marshes. The weight of her in my hand was the weight of PURPOSE. Of MEANING. Of who I was supposed to be. Now she's a cum-rag. "Ye do good work today-" Snib scratches his balls, making wet sounds. "Scrub this shithole proper-like, wash me under-rags till they're soft again-maybe I'll let ye clean 'er. Maybe even USE 'er." He grins, showing all those broken teeth. "Got a cave I been eyeing. Desert ruins. Full of old treasure, probably. Ye could help me PLUNDER it!" Hero work. In this body. With this... *meat.* "Ten thousand gold!" He announces it like a revelation. "That's the price, remember? Make me RICH and ye walk free. I'll be true to me word on that-collar won't let me lie direct-like. So really, this is just... what's the word..." He snaps his warty fingers. "INVESTMENT! Yer me investment!" He waddles closer, leash still in hand, cock still half-out and drooling. "But first, ye gotta show proper respect. Gotta use the RIGHT WORDS when Master Snib gives orders." He yanks the leash again, not hard, just a reminder. "So. One more time. Nice and clear." The words taste like a funeral pyre. Everything I was, smoking on my tongue. But Whisperwind's there. Waiting. Defiled but waiting. And Elara's home. Waiting. Not knowing. Ten thousand gold. A CONTRACT. A goal. Something to work toward besides... this. My lips move. The voice that comes out, high, musical, HERS, belongs to someone I haven't agreed to be: (change_stat:"heroism",-2) "Yes... Master Snib." The words hit the air and I want to die. "THERE IT IS!" Snib does a little dance, his cock flopping. "Music to me ears! Say it AGAIN!" "...Yes, Master Snib." "AGAIN!" "Yes, Master Snib." Each repetition drives the knife deeper. "Good girl!" He pats my ass like I'm a horse. "Now git to work. Them's me under-rags-" He points to the pile of crusted leather strips, brown with every fluid a goblin can produce. Flies buzz around them. "Beat 'em in the well-water. Use sand if ye have to. Get 'em SOFT again so they flex proper." He releases the leash. It vanishes back into nothing, but the collar remains, its weight doubled. I push myself up slowly. Everything jiggles. The armor cuts and scrapes. These heel-boots make each step a calculated fall. I grab a stick from the corner, refuse to touch those rags with my hands, and start spearing them one by one, lifting them like dead rats. The stench. Eon's fucking BONES, the stench. (set:$map_position to (a:2504,2924))(map:) Dried piss and cum and sweat, baked into the leather by desert heat, aged to perfection. One piece has actual MOLD growing on it. Another's so stiff it doesn't bend, just pivots like a plank.](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")**"Y-yes... Master Snib."**(playwhenread:"yes master snib") The words taste like grave dirt. (change_stat:"heroism",-3)"HARHARHAR!" His whole body shakes with delight, cock-tent bouncing. "Say it again! Louder!" I swallow bile. "Yes, Master Snib." (change_stat:"snib",2)"That's the spirit!" He scurries forward, fast for something so squat. Before I can react, his warty hand is on my inner thigh, fingers pressing into the soft meat there. Aldric's thighs were oak. These give like fresh bread under his fingers, dimpling where he squeezes.(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:200,0.20),(a:500,0.28),(a:800,0.30),(a:1200,0.28),(a:1600,0.24),(a:2000,0.18),(a:2400,0.12),(a:2800,0)))) (playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 2")(pic:"ch03/grope thigh.jpg","Before I can react, his warty hand is on my inner thigh.") I flatten against the wall but there's nowhere to go. He has to crane his neck to look up at my face, but his hand can reach everything that matters. His fingers trace higher, skirting the metal triangle, following the exposed flesh beside it. Close enough that goblin-heat soaks through the scales.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:400,0.24),(a:800,0.28),(a:1200,0.32),(a:1600,0.28),(a:2000,0.22),(a:2400,0.16),(a:2800,0.10),(a:3200,0)))) He takes a deep, wet sniff. Like a hound catching scent. "Mmmmm." Another inhale, his yellow eyes rolling back. "That's fear-sweat mixed with she-musk." His other hand points to the corner. "Even yer sword knows the truth now." I follow his gesture and my chest caves in. Whisperwind. (pic:"ch03/whisperwind.jpg","Not fallen. Defeated.") The blade leans against the wall. Defeated. Snib's cum from last night has dried into a grotesque shell: yellow-white plaster thick as tree bark in places, with stalactites of dried seedcrust swaying when Snib nudges the blade. Individual pubic hairs are suspended in the mess, black wires in amber. The inscription, ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO, seems to glow with malevolent pride through the cumcrust. My sword. The blade that split the Crimson Wyrm's skull. That I was going to pass to our children. Now she's a cum-rag. "Ten thousand gold." Snib's finger traces a circle on my thigh, leaving goosebumps. "That's all ye need. Make me rich, and I keep me word-set ye free. I'm serious as death about that." (hidden_gem:"His sincerity makes it worse.","His sincerity sours and stings somehow.") He pulls back, waddles to his pile of furs. "But first, me clothes need washin'. Can't have a rich goblin wearin' crusties, can I?" The pile of loincloths looks like something exhumed from a plague pit. Brown leather stiff as boards, white crystal formations where salt and worse have dried. Flies orbit in lazy loops. There's a stick by the door. I spear one of the loincloths. It lifts rigid as a plank, reeking of everything a goblin produces below the waist. (set:$map_position to (a:2504,2924))(map:) *CLOP-wobble-CLOP* Each step toward the door makes my ass cheeks saw against the metal thong. My tits lead the way, their weight pulling my spine into an arch that makes my hips roll. The bucket handle cuts into my soft palm. Tender skin that'll blister within minutes. "That's it!" Snib calls from his furs. "Wiggle them hams! And remember-sunset! Want it so clean ye could birth babies on me floor!"] (simple_option:"03 well","Head to the well.")

(pic:"ch03/hut.jpg")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/concentrated/1.png")($play:"ambience","desert wind")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png") The sand shifts under my heel-spikes with each step, swallowing the metal like quicksand swallowing bone. I pitch forward. Catch myself. Pitch again. The bucket of rags swings, flies buzz off in angry clouds, then resettle. *CLOP-sink-wobble.*(playwhenread:"heels desert") (pic:"ch03/desert heels.jpg","The spike-bottoms flatten into discs, spreading my weight across the sand.") My third step, the boots finally remember their purpose. The spike-bottoms flatten into discs, spreading my weight across the sand. The angle still forces my calves to scream. But walkable. The armor serves when I serve HIM. Twenty paces to the well. Might as well be twenty miles. (pic:"ch03/desert.jpg","The land of the Sandwalkers stretches endless, beautiful, utterly indifferent to my plight.","gif") The Shifting Sands stretch in every direction, dunes rolling like frozen waves under a sky so blue it hurts. Heat shimmer makes the horizon dance. In the distance, something that might be ruins, K'tarran stonework jutting from the dunes like old bones. Sand-owls call from their burrows, that warbling three-note song that sounds like laughter. Glimmer-finches dart between scrub brush, their scales catching morning sun and throwing rainbow fractals. All that beauty, and not a scrap of it for me. (playwhenread:"glimmer finch")(pic:"ch03/glimmer finch.jpg","Glimmer-finches dart between scrub brush.") I'm walking through it in three metal triangles, carrying a bucket of cum-crusted goblin rags. *CLOP. CLOP. CLOP.* The well rises from the sand. Clean-cut stones fitted so perfectly no mortar shows. K'tarran work, no question. The joints form patterns that shouldn't be possible with hammer and chisel, geometric precision that makes my eyes want to slide away. A metal pump rises from the center, dark iron covered in symbols that weren't carved but somehow GROWN into the metal itself. Nobody knows what killed the K'tarrans. Just that they're gone, leaving wells and ruins and warnings about things that sleep beneath sand. I set the bucket down. Dump the contents beside the well. (pic:"ch03/desert gaze.jpg","gif") The pile lands with a wet SLAP. Brown leather strips, each one stiff as dried hide, crusted with layers of-I don't look too close. Don't THINK too close. Refuse. Bodily refuse baked into the fabric under desert heat. Flies swarm immediately. I grab the pump handle. Pull. Nothing. Pull harder. The mechanism groans, metal scraping metal somewhere deep. One more pull and- *COUGH-SPLURT* Brown water gushes out, clearing itself as it runs. By the tenth pump, it's running clean and cold from deep stone. (playwhenread:"pump water")(pic:"ch03/well.jpg") I don't think. Just cup my hands under the flow and drink. The first mouthful hits my throat like winter rain. Sweet. Impossibly sweet, like someone dissolved honey in snowmelt. I gulp it down and immediately cup more, water running down my chin, between my tits, pooling in my cleavage. Don't care. I drink until my stomach aches. Until the collar digs in from swallowing. The water's so cold it makes my teeth hurt, washing away the taste of hay and morning bile and shame. My throat had been raw, from saying *Master*, and now it's soothed, clean, almost... I kneel there gasping, water dripping from my face onto pale thighs. The coolness spreads through me like a blessing, like the Ephemerals finally remembering I exist. For thirty seconds, I'm just a person drinking good water. Then: the bucket. The rags. I fill the bucket halfway, set it on the well's rim. Now for the actual work. I use my boot-tip to flip one rag into the water. It floats for a moment, then starts to... leak. Yellow-brown tendrils curl off it like smoke in water, spreading through the bucket. The water clouds immediately. Bile kicks at the back of my throat. Another rag. Same thing. The water's getting darker, taking on that same sour-milk reek that fills Snib's hut. I dump it, pump fresh water, try again. By the fifth bucket, most of the visible crust is gone. The rags are just... damp leather now. Brown and stained but not actively CRUSTED. (pic:"ch03/laundry begin.jpg","right","The leather's slick between my fingers, greasy with residue that won't wash away.")I reach in barehanded.(playwhenread:"laundry bucket") (hidden_gem:"The leather's slick between my fingers, greasy with residue that won't wash away.","The leather lurches and slides between my fingers, slippery with stubborn, sickening residue.") My hands work automatically: the motions my mother taught me for washing clothes in the river, before I learned to swing a sword. Scrub, twist, wring. Scrub, twist, wring. The morning sun climbs higher. Sweat runs between my tits, pools in the small of my back. One rag is particularly foul, dark brown in splotches, with white crusty patches that resist the water. I hold it up to see if it's clean enough. The white patches start WRITHING. Little tadpole shapes breaking free from the fabric, swimming in the water droplets caught in the leather's weave. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Wriggling with desperate life, seeking- I drop the rag like it's on fire. Heat shimmer. Has to be. Has to be. My skin crawls anyway, because every border soldier knows the stories. Women found weeks after goblin raids with bellies already swelling, begging not to be rescued. Saying they needed to go back. I used to kill these creatures by the score. Now I'm washing their undergarments. I pump fresh water, scrub harder. Can't stop seeing those shapes wriggling toward warmth- "Quite a sight, that."(playwhenread:"quite a sight") I spin. These tits keep going after I stop, swaying into each other with a wet slap. (pic:"ch03/desert snib.jpg","left","Snib's maybe ten paces away, squatting like a gargoyle.")Snib's maybe ten paces away, squatting like a gargoyle. How long has he been watching? His loincloth's tented, and he's wearing that grin like a wound. "Didn't know hero-cunts could scrub so pretty-like." He hops off the rock, waddles closer. His cock's flopped free of the loincloth, that purple head bobbing with each step. "All bent over, them big sit-bags swingin', workin' so HARD on me delicates..." I straighten, water running off my hands. The rags lie in the bucket. Clean enough. I need to hang them to dry, get back inside, start on the actual floor- "Tell ye what." Snib stops beside the well, one hand idly stroking his cock. The smell rolls off him, rancid musk thick enough to taste. "Ye're workin' so hard fer yer freedom. Ten thousand gold, right? Big number." I don't answer. Don't trust my voice. "But I'm feelin'... GENEROUS." His grin widens. "Do the rest of yer mornin' chores in yer skin. No metal. Just meat. And I'll knock..." He pauses, considering. "Five HUNDRED gold off yer debt." My hands clench into fists. "Think about it," he continues, still stroking. Precum's dripping now, making wet sounds on the sand. "That's five hundred less ye gotta earn. Five hundred steps closer to that wife of yers." His voice drops. "Course, ye'd have to spend all day lettin' me LOOK. Can't touch-not today anyway-but I can look all I want. At them big fuckin' udders. That fat arse. That smooth little-" (simple_option:"03 naked chores offer","'Never. Do your own fucking laundry next time.'","'...fine.'","Stay silent.","matters")

($play:"ambience","desert morning")(if:$choice is "'Never. Do your own fucking laundry next time.'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png")"Never." The word comes out strangled with rage. "Do your own fucking laundry next time, you disgusting-"(playwhenread:"do your own laundry") The collar *bites*. Instantly. Ice-cold iron crushing my windpipe. Black flowers bloom across my vision. I drop to my knees in the sand, clawing at smooth metal that offers no purchase. Can't breathe. Can't- (pic:"ch03/desert tighten.jpg","The collar *bites*.") It releases just enough to let air whistle through. "HAHAHAHA!" Snib's doubled over, slapping his knee. "Look at 'er! All red-faced and gaggin'! Ye never learn, do ye?"(playwhenread:"all red faced and gaggin") I gasp into the sand, these fucking udders compressed beneath me, spilling out the sides of the metal triangles. Drool runs from my mouth. My throat feels crushed. "Could make this EASIER on yerself," Snib wheezes through his laughter. "But no-stubborn cow wants to do it the hard way." He adjusts his cock, which hasn't softened at all from watching me choke. "Fine by me! More entertainment!" I push myself up slowly. Scrub my hands in the sand, rough grains scouring my palms until they're raw. Can't let any residue near my face. Can't risk even a DROP of that poison getting where it could- Why did I go barehanded? Should've used the stick the whole time. Should've been SMARTER. But something about the task just... made me forget. Made me do it properly. I grab the bucket of sopping rags and stalk, as much as one can stalk in heel-boots, back toward the hut. Snib follows, whistling some goblin tune off-key. I find a length of rope inside, string it between the hut and the dead olive tree. *CLOP. CLOP.* Each step across the sand. Each movement making everything jiggle. The armor cuts deeper from the sweat and effort. "Ye know-" Snib's found shade under a scraggly acacia, squatting there like a toad. "This don't have to be so painful between us. Ye make me happy, things go FASTER. Keep fightin' and..." He shrugs. "Well, ten thousand gold's a big number. Could take years." (vid:"img/ch03/desert pan.mp4")(playwhenread:"hang laundry") I wring out a rag. Hard. Pretending it's his neck. Water spatters the sand. "Just tryin' to help," he continues in that wheedling tone. "Good slaves get rewards. Stubborn bitches just get more work." He spreads his legs, letting his cock flop obscenely. "But hey-yer choice, tit-slave. Yer choice." I hang the rags one by one. They drip onto sand that's already baked dry by mid-morning heat. The wind catches them, makes them flap like the world's most pathetic victory banners. (pic:"ch03/desert laundry clothed.jpg","right")This is my life. This is what I've become.](else-if:$choice is "Stay silent.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")(pic:"ch03/desert sweat.jpg","right")I don't even look at him. My hands reach for the first rag, wring it one more time. Water streams off, brown but clearer than before. I drape it over my arm and move toward the dead olive tree that props up Snib's hut. Need rope. Need to string a line. "Aw, c'mon!" His voice follows me. "Five hundred! That's good gold! Just gotta show off what ye already got!" *CLOP. CLOP.* Inside the hut, I find rope, frayed hemp that probably came from some caravan Snib picked clean. I string it between the tree and a post driven into the sand, tying knots with fingers that still feel greasy despite the water. "Silent treatment, eh?" Snib waddles after me, still stroking himself. "That's fine. I like watchin' ye work anyway. All that JIGGLE. All that-hehehe-*bounce.*" I hang the first rag. It drips onto the sand. "Could be easier between us, y'know." He settles into the shade beneath the tree, cock still out, still leaking. Starts humming something, goblin tune, wet and tuneless. "Ye make me happy, this goes faster fer ye. Fight me every step, and..." He shrugs. "Well. Still gets where it's goin', just takes longer." The second rag goes up. Third. My hands move automatically while my mind tries to be ANYWHERE else. (vid:"img/ch03/desert pan.mp4")(playwhenread:"hang laundry") Fourth rag. My fingers touch something crusty. I jerk back, then realize what I've done. Touched them. Touched the seed-soaked leather with bare skin. Didn't even THINK about it when I started scrubbing. What's wrong with me? I crouch by the sand pile, scrub my hands raw with grit. Rub until my palms burn. The stories from Westfall: how it gets IN you. Through cuts, through your mouth if you're stupid enough to- "Careful there, cow-tits." Snib's watching with interest. "Gonna scrub yer pretty hands bloody." (pic:"ch03/desert laundry clothed 2.jpg","left")The final rags go up. They hang limp in the dead air, dripping brown water that makes dark spots in the sand. His undergarments. His *delicates*. Strung up like festival banners. "There we go!" Snib claps, making his cock bounce. "Now don't that look PROPER? Like a real home! With a real she-slave keepin' things nice!" (hidden_gem:"I stare at the laundry line, at the proof of how far I've fallen.","I stare at the laundry strung there, solid proof of my pitiful, pathetic plummet.")](if:$choice is "'...fine.'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/3.png")The number sits in my mouth like copper coins. Five hundred. A tenth of my freedom. A tenth closer to Elara, to ending this, to- But naked. Specifically FOR him. So he can watch. So he can ENJOY watching. My silence stretches. Snib just laughs, that wet phlegm rattle. "Thought so! Knew ye'd-" "I'll do it." The words come out dead. Someone else's mouth. Snib stops mid-cackle. His yellow eyes go wide, then narrow with glee so pure it makes my stomach turn. "Well THRACK me sideways!" He does a little dance, cock flopping. "The hero's got SENSE after all!" (change_stat:"heroism",-3)I turn back to the bucket. The rags need hanging. There's a dead olive tree between the hut and-I need rope. Inside. Get rope, string it between tree and hut, hang the rags, then- I dump the bucket with shaking hands, and refill it with the cleaner rags. The sun's climbing. Already brutal. Going to get worse. *Just five hundred gold. Just numbers. Just-* I find rope inside, old hemp, frayed but functional. String it between the gnarled olive trunk and a nail jutting from the hut's wall. The armor jingles with every movement, scales scraping across nipples that have gone hard from... from the morning cold. That's all. Snib follows me like a dog watching its master prepare dinner. The rope's secure. The rags wait in the bucket. And now- My hands go to the bikini top's clasps. They've hidden themselves again, little mechanisms tucked under where my tits rest. I have to lift the left one, fingers fumbling, feeling Snib's eyes on every motion. (playwhenread:"unclasp",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:150,0.18),(a:320,0.22),(a:480,0.12),(a:640,0.15),(a:790,0.08),(a:940,0.10),(a:1080,0.05),(a:1250,0))))*Click.* The first triangle springs free. My tit drops, bounces, settles. The nipple's at full attention, pink and obscene against pale flesh. "Ohhhhh FUCK yes..." Snib's voice goes breathy. *Click.* The second releases. Both tits hang free now, heavy as grain sacks, swaying when I breathe. I drop the top in the sand, reach for the thong. (pic:"ch03/desert remove top.jpg","My ears burn. My whole face burns.") My ears burn. My whole face burns. The metal strip peels away from between my ass cheeks with a slick *shhhk* and my pussy... I don't look. Don't acknowledge. Just step out of it, the metal clattering in the sand. "LOOK AT THAT!" Snib's hopping. "Look at them-them BIG PINK CIRCLES! Never seen humie nipples that close! And when ye bent over just now, yer-yer CUNT-LIPS were peekin' out! All smooth and-" I scrub my hands in the sand. Hard. Rough grains scouring my palms, getting under my nails. Goblin seed. Goblin ANYTHING. Get it OFF. Why did I go barehanded? Why didn't I think- *Because you're still thinking like Aldric, who never had to worry about this shit.* The sand scrubs away the slickness, the invisible residue. I do it three times before my hands feel clean enough to touch my face. "This don't have to be painful, ye know." Snib's settled under the olive tree now, cock in hand. *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK.* "Ye make me happy, this goes FASTER. Just like now! Smart girl, takin' the deal!" (pic:"ch03/desert laundry naked.jpg","right")I turn away, grab the first rag, start hanging them on the rope. My tits sway with each reach. Can feel them moving, feel the weight pulling at muscles that shouldn't exist. The sun's already making sweat run between them. *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK.* "That's it, work them arms! Makes the udders BOUNCE!" Another rag. Another. The line fills with brown leather strips, dripping onto sand. I keep my eyes on my work. Anywhere but him. But I can HEAR it: that wet rhythm, his breathing getting heavier. "Bet yer wife never had to do this, eh?" *SCHLICK-SCHLICK.* "Bet she got to wear CLOTHES while she worked!" He laughs, this wheezing giggle. "But not you! Not the great Aldric! Now ye're hangin' me ball-rags with yer tits out!" My hands clench on the next rag. Squeeze. Water runs down my forearms. "Turn around! Lemme see the FRONT again!" I don't. "Aw, shy now?" More laughter. He starts humming, some goblin tune, all wrong notes and rhythm. Sitting there. Watching. Stroking. ENJOYING this. The last rag goes up. The line's full, dripping, smelling of water and desert heat. I reach for my armor- "Ah-ah-ah!" Snib wags a finger, still stroking. "Deal was ALL mornin' chores, hero-cunt. Still gotta clean inside! And..." He grins wider. "Gotta find me breakfast. Somethin' good! Cactus fruit, maybe. Or a nice fat lizard!" He wants me to hunt. Naked. In the desert. (change_stat:"gold",500)"After that, ye can have yer metal back." *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK.* His other hand's fondling his balls now, those apple-sized things. "But fer now? Ye're me entertainment AND me worker! Best deal I ever made!" (pic:"ch03/desert post naked laundry.jpg") (simple_option:"03 hunt","Find food.")](else:)[ He stands, tucks himself back into his loincloth, mostly. "Right then. Next chore. Breakfast." He pats his belly. "Yer Master's hungry. And lucky fer ye, this land's got PLENTY if ye know where to look." He points toward the scrubland east of the hut. "Cactus fruit. Lizards if ye can catch 'em. Maybe some beetles under them rocks. I ain't picky." That grin again. "Well, I WASN'T picky. Now I got me own personal hero to do me huntin' fer me!" I look down at my hands. Still feel greasy. Still feel like they're crawling with those tadpole shapes. "Off ye go then!" He makes shooing motions. "And remember-no magic! Collar won't let ye anyway, but just in case ye forgot: yer powers are MINE now. Only use 'em when Master says so!" (simple_option:"03 hunt","Search for food...")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/4.png")($play:"ambience","desert morning")(if:$choice is "Search for food...")["Need... a blade." Asking him for ANYTHING makes my teeth ache. "A blade?" His grin splits wider. "What fer?" "Food." I gesture vaguely at the desert. "You want breakfast, I need to cut things." "Ohhhhh!" He slaps his knee like I've told the funniest joke. "Hero-cunt's gonna HUNT fer me! With what-yer tits? Gonna smother a lizard between them fat-" "A. Blade." My hands clench. The collar tightens slightly. Snib sighs like I'm ruining his fun, waddles into the hut. Returns with something that makes my stomach turn: a curved knife, maybe eight inches, the kind you use for gutting. The blade's crusted with old blood. Human? Goblin? The handle's wrapped in stained leather. "Here." He tosses it. I catch it by reflex. "Don't go gettin' ideas. That collar'll feel it if ye even THINK about pointin' it me way." I look at the knife. Look at Whisperwind in the corner, still cake-smeared and defiled. Look back at this piece of shit in my hand. This is what I'm reduced to. "And..." I force the next words through my teeth. "Fire. Need coals. For cooking." "Givin' me orders now?" Snib's on his feet instantly, that quick goblin speed. His hand cracks across my ass-*WHAP!*-making the flesh jiggle.(playwhenread:"spank 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:120,0.26),(a:280,0.16),(a:450,0.08),(a:620,0)))) "Please." The word burns coming out. "We'll eat faster if-" "'Please Master Snib!'" He corrects, grabbing a handful of ass meat and squeezing. "Say it RIGHT!" "Please... Master Snib." "Better!" He releases me, starts gathering dried grass and twigs. "Lucky fer you I'm hungry too. But next time ye ASK properly first go!" (pic:"ch03/desert forage clothed.jpg","The morning sun hammers down as I head back into the desert.") (hidden_gem:"The morning sun hammers down as I head back into the desert.","The morning sun murders the morning, hammering down as I march into the desert.") The Shifting Sands spread before me, endless dunes broken by stubborn vegetation that survives on spite and morning dew. My armor *jingles* with each step, the triangular cups scraping across nipples, the thong sawing between my cheeks. But underneath... My skin should be burning. This pale flesh exposed to desert sun should be turning red, blistering. Instead it just... glows. Like the heat feeds it somehow. (pic:"ch03/desert flora.jpg","left","The prickly-pear's moisture beads like sweat, each drop catching sun.")I spot a cluster of bloodbrush first, those thorny shrubs with the crimson berries that only fruit after the rare rains. Three sennights ago we had a downpour; the berries are perfect now, each one swollen with juice that's sweet-tart and full of seeds. Warriors eat them on long marches when water's scarce, they keep your mouth from drying out. The knife works well enough to cut away the worst thorns. I gather two handfuls of berries into a pouch I create from a broad succulent leaf. *CLOP-CLOP-CLOP* across the sand. The boots flatten more, spreading my weight. My tits bounce with each step, hypnotic rhythm that I can see in my peripheral vision. There, a young prickly-pear, its paddles still tender green instead of tough gray. Perfect. The desert-mothers in the Sandwalker tribes candy these with honey when they can get it. Without honey, you need something else sweet. The bloodbrush berries will do. I squat, everything jiggles, and use the knife to shave away the spines. Each one comes off with a little *pop*, revealing flesh underneath that weeps clear moisture. The smell hits immediately: green and bright, like cucumber but sharper. Makes my mouth water. When did I eat last? Yesterday morning with Elara- (vid:"img/ch03/desert cactus prep.mp4","soundwhenvisible") *Stop.* The knife splits the paddle lengthwise, leaving one edge intact like a pocket. I crush the berries between my palms, the juice runs red as blood down my wrists, and pack the mash inside. A stick from a dead mesquite holds it closed Back at the hut, Snib's got a small fire crackling. The smoke stings my eyes as I nestle the stuffed paddle beside, not on, the coals. "What's that supposed to be?" Snib demands, poking it with a stick. "Food." I turn the paddle with another stick, making sure it heats evenly. The skin starts to blister, little bubbles forming and popping. Steam escapes from the edges, carrying the smell of berries cooking in their own juice and the green-bright scent of cactus flesh softening. After about ten minutes, you count time in the desert by how many breaths it takes for sweat to evaporate, the paddle's ready. The outside has blackened in spots, the berries inside have broken down into jam. I split it open on the one clean plate in this shithole, the ruby-red filling oozing out, studded with seeds. (vid:"img/ch03/desert cactus roast.mp4","right","soundwhenvisible")My stomach clenches, hollow and angry. I scrape some of the jam with my fingers, get it halfway to my mouth- *WHAP!* Snib's hand slaps mine away, snatches the plate. "Mine first!" He takes a massive bite, red juice running down his chin. Makes a face. "Tastes like... plant." "It's good for you." The words come out bitter.(playwhenread:"snib eating") "Humie food," he mutters, but keeps eating. Gobbles the whole thing in four bites, even gnaws the cactus skin. "Needs meat. Or maggotsss... bah, maybe YOU need to learn to cook GOBLIN FOOD" He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Least it fills the belly." I scrape what's left in the preparation area, a few spoonfuls of jam, some cactus flesh, into my mouth. Even this little bit makes me feel... full? Like this body needs less than- "Right then!" Snib stands, patting his pot belly. "Time to clean inside! Want me home SPOTLESS! Like a proper rich goblin's supposed to have!" (pic:"ch03/cactus gobble.jpg") He grabs my ass as I stand, fingers digging into soft flesh. "Move that big arse!" (simple_option:"03 clean inside","Start cleaning the hut interior...")](else-if:$choice is "Find food.")["Need a knife." The words come out flat. Practical. Like I'm requisitioning equipment from the quartermaster, not begging a goblin for tools. Snib's eyes flick to the corner where Whisperwind leans, still crusted, still defiled. His grin spreads. "Got just the thing!" He scuttles over to his refuse pile, rummages through bones and rags, pulls out a blade maybe six inches long. Rusty. Brown stains near the hilt that definitely aren't rust. He tosses it. I catch it. The handle's warm. Sticky. I wipe it on... nothing. I'm naked. I wipe it in the sand, scrubbing until my palm burns. "And..." I hate asking. "I need coals. Fire. We'll eat faster if-" "Making DEMANDS now?" But he's already moving toward the fire pit, grabbing dried dung and kindling. "Fine, fine. Don't want to wait all day fer me food." He's doing something I asked. We're... working together. The thought makes me want to vomit. I step back out into the desert, blade in hand, completely naked except for the collar. (pic:"ch03/desert forage naked.jpg","My skin seems to drink the heat, adapt to it.") The sun hits like a forge. Should be burning my skin already. I'm pale as temple marble, never had to work shirtless like the mine laborers. Instead: warmth. Uncomfortable but not blistering. My skin seems to drink the heat, adapt to it. Like this body was MADE for goblin territory. I look down at myself. Pale curves catching light. Tits that cast their own shadows. The smooth nothing between my legs. My feet are bare on hot sand and it should hurt but it doesn't. Not like it would have yesterday. Everything about this flesh seems designed to survive in places goblins thrive. I hate it. (pic:"ch03/desert flora.jpg","left","The prickly-pear's moisture beads like sweat, each drop catching sun.")*Focus. Food. Get it done.* The Shifting Sands aren't completely barren. You just have to know where to look. Scrub brush clusters around rocks that trap morning dew. Desert sage grows low and grey. And there- Red berries. Thornback berries, the ($lorebook_entry:"Sandwalkers","beasts") call them. Tart enough to pucker your mouth, but safe if you know which ones. The round ones with five points on top. Never the oval ones. I pick a handful, crushing them in my palm to check the juice. Dark red. Good. Twenty paces further: a young prickly-pear, its pad fat and green. Perfect. The knife makes quick work of the spines, scraping them away with the blade's edge. The glochids, those tiny invisible bastards, take longer. Have to hold it up to sunlight, see where they catch, scrape clean. My hands remember this from survival training, from those sennights in the Scorched Barrens chasing the Westfort raiders. Back then I had clothes. Among other things. I slice the pad lengthwise, careful not to cut through the far edge. It opens like a pocket, thick, moist flesh inside. I pack it with crushed berries, dark red juice running down my fingers. Push it closed, skewer it with a twig to keep it shut. (vid:"img/ch03/desert cactus prep.mp4","soundwhenvisible") The coals are ready when I get back. Snib's lounging on his furs, cock still out, watching me walk with obvious interest. "Them's some long legs on ye! All that MEAT swingin' around!" I nestle the stuffed cactus beside the coals. Not on them. That'll burn it. Just close enough that the heat penetrates, starts steaming the berries inside their green pouch. The smell hits after maybe two minutes. Sweet and smoky. Tart. My stomach growls. When did I last eat? Yesterday morning with Elara, before- *Don't.* (vid:"img/ch03/desert cactus roast.mp4","right","soundwhenvisible")I turn the cactus, watching the skin blister and soften. Eight minutes. Ten. The pad goes from rigid to yielding under my knife-tip. Ready. I split it open, squeeze. Thick ruby jam oozes out, still steaming. I scrape it onto Snib's cracked plate, the only plate, and grab a scrap of cactus flesh for myself, chewing as I work. The tartness cuts across my tongue. Green and alive and- I'm full. The portion I ate while cooking would've been an appetizer before. Now it sits like a feast. This body needs less. Runs on less. Everything smaller. I set the plate in front of Snib, still naked, still collared, still his. He stares at it. At the dark jam pooling on cracked ceramic. His nose wrinkles, sniffing. Then he takes a bite. His eyes close.(playwhenread:"snib eating") The expression on his face: I can't read it at first. His jaw works, chewing slowly. Swallows. Opens his eyes and stares at me like I've done something impossible. "This... this ain't rotten." "No." "It's... good?" He says it like a question. Like he doesn't trust the concept. Takes another bite. "Fuck me, it's GOOD!" Pride swells under my ribs. Warm. Familiar. Like feeding Elara after a long march- No. NO. I just cooked for my ENSLAVER. That warmth in my chest is for a goblin licking his fingers over my food. (pic:"ch03/cactus gobble.jpg") "Right!" Snib sets the empty plate aside, licks his fingers. "Now the INSIDE. Gotta get this place proper-like!" He gestures at the hut's interior: the crusted furs, the dirt floor, the refuse piles. "Scrub it all, hero-cunt. And since ye're already dressed fer it..." He grins. "Might as well stay that way!" (simple_option:"03 clean inside","Clean the hovel... naked.")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/5.png")($play:"ambience","cleaning")(if:$choice is "Start cleaning the hut interior...")[(pic:"ch03/sweep clothed.jpg","right","The inside of the hut looks worse in daylight.")The inside of the hut looks worse in daylight. Bones scattered in corners: rabbit, desert rat, something that might have been human fingers. Dried *something* crusted on the wooden planks near his fur pile. Brown stains on the dirt floor that could be blood... best not to think about it. The women's smallclothes nailed to the walls have gathered dust and dead flies. "Start with me trophy wall!" Snib announces, already settling onto his furs with fresh loincloth barely containing his perpetual half-chub. "Dust 'em nice! They're PRECIOUS!" A broom leans in the corner, actual straw bound with leather, probably stolen from some caravan. I grab it, start sweeping bones into a pile. They clatter like dice. "Not like that!" Snib barks. "Ye're just pushin' dirt around! Put yer BACK into it!" The metal triangles cut deeper as I bend further, trying to gather years of filth. My tits swing with every stroke, slapping the broom handle. The thong rides higher and higher until it's practically inside me. "Better! Look at them milk-sacks sway!" I grit my teeth. Sweep harder. The pile grows: bones, refuse, dead beetles, scraps of leather that might have been clothing once. "Now the trophies." He points at the wall of women's undergarments. "Gentle-like! They're delicate!" (hidden_gem:"Each pair tells a story I don't want to know.","Each pair presents a past I'd prefer not to parse.") I stop looking. Just dust with a rag I found, trying not to think about who wore these, where they are now. "Arrange 'em by size!" Snib's rubbing himself through his fresh loincloth, making wet sounds. "Biggest to smallest! Like ye're settin' up shop!" My hands shake as I rearrange them by size. The biggest ones on the left. Down to the smallest on the right. Like trophies. Like- "Perfect! Now ye can see-smallest ones were the TIGHTEST! HARHARHAR!" "You're disgusting." "What's that?" His voice goes dangerous. "Nothing... Master Snib." "Thought so. Now-floor time! See that bucket? Fill it. Hands and knees. SCRUB." Some of the floor is wooden planking, stolen from Eboncrest's mill by the maker's marks. The rest is packed dirt. All of it is filthy. I fill the bucket at the well, come back, get on my knees. The position is obscene. Ass in the air, tits hanging down nearly touching the floor. I grab the rag and start scrubbing. *JINGLE-JINGLE-JINGLE* The armor mocks me with each motion. Forward and back, forward and back. The wooden planks are starting to show grain underneath years of grime. "LOOK at that arse-shelf work!" Snib's on his feet now, circling me. "All that sittin'-meat just WOBBLING! And when ye reach forward-HAH!-can see yer smoothie peeking out!" I scrub harder. Try to ignore him. Try to ignore how my tits drag across the wet floor when I reach too far.(playwhenread:"that big rumps just begging") "Tell ye what-" He squats right beside me, close enough that I can smell his musk. "That big rump's just BEGGIN' for attention. If ye ASK me nice-real nice-to give it a squeeze, I'll knock five hundred gold off yer debt." My hand stops mid-scrub. "But ye gotta ASK." His grin could strip paint. "Gotta say 'Please Master Snib, grab me arse while I clean yer floor.' And WIGGLE it. Show ye want it." I turn to look at him, eyes burning with hatred so pure it should set him ablaze. "Just fer lettin' me enjoy what I already own!" He reaches toward my ass, stops just short. "But only if ye INVITE it." (simple_option:"03 grope offer","'No.'","'Please... grab my ass, Master Snib.'","matters")](else:)[(pic:"ch03/sweep naked.jpg","right")The broom's just a stick with dried grass tied to one end. Functional. Barely. I start with the bones. They're everywhere: rat skulls, what might be bird wings, something with too many ribs scattered near his fur pile. I gather them in my hands, toss them out the door. Each bend makes my tits swing, heavy and pendulous. Snib's watching from his furs, new loincloth on, hand already moving underneath the leather. "That's it, work them haunches! Bendin' and showin' me EVERYTHING!" The refuse pile next. Broken pottery, moldy bread, a child's wooden horse with one leg missing. I don't think about where that came from. Just sweep it into a pile, carry it out in armfuls. The smallclothes on the wall, trophies of past... I don't think about it either. Just dust them with the broom, watching sand fall. Lace and cotton and silk, all faded, all nailed like hunting kills. "Careful with them! Each one's got a STORY!" Snib cackles. "That blue one? She SQUEALED real pretty when-" "I don't want to know." "Course ye don't! Too busy showin' me yer arse-crack every time ye reach up!" The floor's next. Part dirt, part wooden planking that's warped from moisture and waste. I sweep what I can: dust, sand, things I don't identify. The wooden sections need scrubbing. "Down on yer knees fer the wet work!" Snib announces. "Want it PROPER clean!" I kneel. The position's obscene: ass up, tits hanging. I grab a rag from the bucket, start scrubbing the planks. (pic:"ch03/scrub naked.jpg") "THERE'S the view!" Snib's hand moves faster. *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK.* "Bet ye never thought the mighty Aldric would be arse-up in a goblin's hut, did ye?" The planks are sticky with old spills. I scrub harder, trying to lose myself in the work. Can't. Every motion makes everything jiggle. My tits brush the floor. My thighs rub together. "That meal ye made..." Snib's voice goes thoughtful. "Never had nothin' like that. Not rotten. Not old. Just... MADE fer me." He shifts on the furs. "Ye know what? I'm feelin' GENEROUS again." I keep scrubbing. Don't look up. "Here's the deal, sittin'-meat. Ye ASK me-nice and proper-like-if I can give yer big fat arse-globes a good SQUEEZE. Just feel 'em up while ye work. And I'll take another two hundred fifty gold off yer debt." My hands stop. The rag drips onto wood. "Course, ye gotta ASK. Can't just let me-gotta use yer words. Say..." He pauses, thinking. "'Master Snib, will ye please fondle me big wobbly sit-cushions?'" His laugh rattles. "Somethin' like that!" (hidden_gem:"My ears burn. My whole body burns.","My ears burn and blaze with brutal, body-deep shame.") Seven hundred fifty total. Three quarters of the way to a thousand. A TENTH of my freedom just from this morning's degradation. But asking him. ASKING to be touched. "Tick-tock, tit-slave! Offer's only good while yer on all fours! Once ye stand up, price goes back to normal!" (simple_option:"03 grope offer","Stay silent. Keep scrubbing.","'...Master Snib, will you... will you touch my...'","matters")]

($play:"ambience","cleaning")(if:$choice is "'Please... grab my ass, Master Snib.'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/6.png")The words won't come. I open my mouth. Close it. My hands grip the wet rag so tight water streams between my fingers. Five hundred gold. Just words. Just letting him touch what he's already touched. What he already owns according to the collar. *Just say it.* "I..." My voice cracks. This high, musical thing that isn't mine. "Please..."(playwhenread:"please touch my") The word hangs there. Can't finish. Can't- "Please what?" Snib's moved closer. Can smell him: musk and old sweat and that undertone of precum that never leaves. "Gotta say it ALL, cow-tits!" My whole body shakes, rage so hot my vision swims. But underneath, calculation. Five hundred gold. That's real. That's progress. That's- "Please... touch..." The words drag out of me like pulling teeth. "Touch my..." "Nah nah nah!" Snib waves a finger. "Not 'touch.' I said GRAB. And not just 'my'-gotta call it what it is! That big fat arse-shelf! That sit-meat! That-" (change_stat:"heroism",-3)"Please grab my ass." It comes out in a rush. Like vomiting. "Almost!" He's dancing now, "But ye forgot the most important part! WHO'S askin'?" I know what he wants. Know exactly what he- "Please grab my ass... Master Snib." "And?" *And?* There's MORE? "And WIGGLE it!" He demonstrates, shaking his own scrawny ass. "Show me ye WANT it! That ye're ASKIN' for it!" (hidden_gem:"This is how heroes die. Not in battle. In pieces.","This is how heroes halt. Not hacked in battle. Hollowed in horrible, humiliating pieces.") I shift my weight. The motion makes my ass move. Barely. Just a tremor. "BIGGER!" I close my eyes. Move my hips. Feel the massive globes of flesh shift and bounce. The armor clinks. My tits sway beneath me. "HARHARHAR! There it is! Now say it again! All together!" The rag drops from my hands. They hang at my sides, useless. When I open my eyes, Snib's right there. Three feet of warty green triumph, reaching up toward me. "Please..." My voice is dead. Flat. Something broken crawling out of my throat. "Please grab my ass, Master Snib."(playwhenread:"please grab my ass",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:200,0.08),(a:500,0.16),(a:800,0.24),(a:1200,0.30),(a:1600,0.34),(a:2000,0.32),(a:2400,0.36),(a:2800,0.32),(a:3200,0.34),(a:3600,0.30),(a:4000,0.28),(a:4400,0.24),(a:4800,0.18),(a:5200,0.12),(a:5600,0)))) His hands, both of them, sink into my flesh from behind. (pic:"ch03/ass grope clothed.jpg","right","He GRABS.")He GRABS. Fingers sinking into meat that's too soft, too yielding. His warty palms spread my cheeks through the armor, and there's this sound, this wet *squelch*, that makes my whole body go rigid. "Ohhhhh THRACK that's nice!" He's looking up at me, those yellow goat-eyes bright with sick joy. "Feel how it just... GIVES! Like dough! Like-" He starts kneading. Spreading. Squeezing. I'm looking down at him, bottom lip trembling, as this little creature just... HANDLES me. His fingers dig into the crease where ass meets thigh. Pinch. Pull. Make the flesh dance. *SLAP!*(playwhenread:"spank 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.44),(a:150,0.28),(a:350,0.18),(a:600,0.10),(a:900,0.06),(a:1200,0)))) His palm cracks across my right cheek. The meat jiggles for three full seconds. *SLAP! SLAP!* "Like slappin' a drum!" He's ecstatic. "A big meat drum!" (playwhenread:"spank 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:120,0.26),(a:600,0.44),(a:720,0.28),(a:880,0.16),(a:1100,0.08),(a:1300,0)))) My hands stay at my sides. The armor jingles with each impact. I can't move. Can't pull away. Asked for this. BEGGED for it. Five hundred gold. Five hundred steps closer to- He SPREADS my cheeks now, really pulls them apart. The metal thong shifts, and I feel air hit places that-there's another squelch, wetter, and Snib's grin gets wider.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.14),(a:400,0.22),(a:800,0.28),(a:1200,0.32),(a:1600,0.28),(a:2000,0.22),(a:2400,0.16),(a:2800,0.10),(a:3200,0)))) "Hear that? That's yer smoothie sayin' hello! Getting all-" A whimper crawls out of me, high, wretched, unmistakably feminine. I bite my tongue until I taste copper. Another comes anyway. "That's it!" His fingers dig DEEPER, spreading me wider. The thong string saws against my... against... "Sing fer me, hero! Let me hear what Aldric sounds like with his arse in me hands!" My legs shake. Everything shakes. This isn't happening. This can't be- One finger traces the metal where it disappears between my cheeks. Follows it down to where-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:300,0.18),(a:600,0.26),(a:800,0.34),(a:900,0.12),(a:1000,0)))) "NO!" I jerk forward, fall to my knees. My tits hit the wet floor with a *WHAP*. Snib just laughs. Laughs and laughs and laughs. (change_stat:"gold",500)"Five hundred off!" He announces, still cackling. "Kept me word! Only nine thousand five hundred to go!" He pauses. "Well, after ye earn some, that is. But the POTENTIAL'S there!" I stay on my knees, shaking. The place where his fingers were burns cold. Ghost sensations of being spread, handled, owned. "Now-" He kicks the bucket, sloshing water everywhere. "Finish me floor! Want it so clean I can eat off it! And keep that arse up high-I'm enjoyin' the view I PAID for!" I grab the rag with numb fingers. Start scrubbing. The floor's never been clean. Years of filth, decades maybe. And here I am, on my knees, tits dragging through dirty water, while a goblin watches my ass work. "Oh, and hero?" Snib's settled back on his furs, hand in his loincloth again. "Almost forgot to ask-" He grins, showing all those broken teeth. "What ARE ye?" (simple_option:"03 what are you","'I'm... I'm your slave.'","'I'm Aldric the Great. Still.'","Stay silent, keep scrubbing.")](else-if:$choice is "'No.'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")The word comes out like a sword thrust. "No." (change_stat:"snib",-1)Snib's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "No?" He tastes the word like exotic wine. "The great hero says NO to earnin' gold?" "I'm not inviting you to-" My voice shakes with rage. "I know your game, goblin. I won't play it." "My game?" He stands, walks around me as I kneel there, rag dripping dirty water. "MY game is I own ye. Says so right on yer sword. Says so on that collar." The leash materializes in his hand from thin air, dark links that harden as they form, already warm, already certain. He loops it through a ring on the post I hadn't noticed before, a wooden stake driven deep into the floor's center. *CLINK.* "There!" He gives it a test tug. The collar jerks, making me gag. "Now ye're properly situated! Like a good house-pet!" The leash is maybe six feet. Enough to move around the hut's interior. Can't reach the door. Can't reach anything worth reaching. "This is how we train stubborn hero-cunts!" He settles back on his furs, hands behind his head. "Ye clean from there. Show me how good ye can work while leashed!" I try to stand. The armor makes it a production: tits swaying, ass jutting out as I find my balance in these spike-heels. The leash pulls taut when I try to reach the far corner with the broom. (pic:"ch03/cleaning leash 1.jpg","The leash pulls taut when I try to reach the far corner with the broom.") "HAH! Look at ye STRAAAAAAIN!" Snib's cackling. "All that reach and ye can't quite-oop! Almost! Try harder!" I lean further. The collar digs into my throat. The corner's still two feet away. Have to sweep in arcs, pulling debris toward me instead of pushing it away. Every movement makes the chain rattle. (hidden_gem:"The post becomes my axis, my world shrinking to a circle of shame.","The post becomes my pivot, my prison, my predetermined path of pure purgatory.") "Missed a spot!" Snib points to the bucket. "Right there! Where I sometimes leak at night!" I have to get on my knees to reach it, crawling as far as the leash allows, ass high as I scrub. "There's me girl! Crawlin' like ye're meant to!" His hand's in his loincloth now. "Bet yer wife never saw ye like this! The great Aldric, on a leash, scrubbin' goblin-juice off the floor!" My teeth grind. Scrub harder. The stain's not coming up. It's soaked into the wood grain. "Use spit!" He suggests brightly. "Good for loosening dried gunk!" "I'm not-" *YANK.* The leash pulls me backward, making me sprawl. My ass lands hard, tits bouncing wildly. "What's that? Couldn't hear ye over all that metal jinglin'!" (pic:"ch03/cleaning leash 2.jpg") I get back on my knees. Keep scrubbing. The post forces me to move in circles, always tethered, always limited. Reach for the pile of bones. Leash goes taut. Stretch toward the wall. Collar chokes. Every task becomes a puzzle of angles and positioning. "Should keep ye like this always!" Snib's bouncing on his furs. "Me own personal maid-pet! Could invite other goblins over-'Look what I got! The hero of Eboncrap, tied to me post!'" An hour passes. Maybe two. Time blurs into repetitive humiliation. Sweep what I can reach. Crawl to new position. Sweep again. The chain rattles constantly, a metallic reminder of my status. "That collar's TRAININ' ye." Snib muses, now lying on his side, watching me like I'm the world's most fascinating theater. "Every time ye pull against it, every time it chokes ye a little-that's it learnin' ye yer limits. Soon ye won't even TRY to go past where the leash ends." He's right. I'm already unconsciously measuring my movements, staying within the circle. Not fighting the boundary. "Just like breakin' a horse!" He continues. "First they fight. Then they learn the rope's length. Then they just... stop trying. And ye're already at step two!" "I am nothing like-" "Like a horse?" He grins. "Ye're right. Horses are useful from the start. Ye had to be CHANGED to be useful. Had to grow them milk-bags, that breeding-hole, all that soft grab-meat. The collar knew what it was doing!" The last corner needs cleaning, the one with Whisperwind. My transformed sword lies there like a corpse at a wake. The dried cum has turned from yellow-white to brown crust, flaking off in places but thick as candle wax in others. The inscription, ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO, seems to mock me through the filth. (pic:"ch03/cleaning leash 3.jpg") I reach for it. The leash pulls taut just... just shy. My fingers brush the pommel but can't grip. "Awwww, want yer sword?" Snib's on his feet, waddling over. He kicks it just out of reach. "There! Now ye REALLY can't touch it! HAHAHA!" The rage builds in my chest like molten iron. This tiny, worthless creature. This THING that should be ground under my boot. Has me leashed like a dog, cleaning his sty while he watches and laughs and- "Look at that face!" He's delighted. "All red and furious! Know what? I'm gonna leave ye tied up while I nap. Let ye really THINK about yer position." He yawns, stretches, flops onto his furs. "Wake me when ye're ready to be a good girl." His eyes close. "But probably not. This is too much fun!" Within minutes, he's snoring. I sit in the middle of the floor, leashed to a post in a goblin's hut, surrounded by the fruits of my labor. Six feet of movement. That's my world now. Six feet from the post that owns me as surely as Snib does. (simple_option:"03 clean sword","Use the broom to reach the sword...")](else-if:$choice is "'...Master Snib, will you... will you touch my...'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/6.png")The words stick in my throat like fishbones. Maybe... maybe this is his weakness. If I can burn through the debt fast enough, the collar might FORCE him to release me. Ten thousand becomes nine thousand becomes-(playwhenread:"will you squeeze my") *Don't think. Just do it.* "M-Master Snib..." The title tastes like ash. "Will you... will you..." "Will I WHAT?" He's delighted, cock visibly throbbing through his loincloth. "Gotta say it proper!" My face burns. My whole body burns. I'm on my knees scrubbing his floor with my tits hanging and my ass up and- "Will you... touch my..." I can't. I physically cannot. "Yer what? Yer big FAT...?" "My... my rear." "REAR?" He cackles. "Call 'em what they are! Big wobbly SIT-MEAT! Arse-GLOBES! Say it!" Kill me. Eon kill me now. "Will you... squeeze my... my big..." The words are broken glass. "My fat... sit-cushions." (change_stat:"heroism",-5)"AHAHAHA! THAT'LL DO!" He's behind me before I can brace. His hands, rough, warty, disgustingly warm, sink into my ass cheeks like they're dough.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:300,0.20),(a:600,0.28),(a:1000,0.34),(a:1400,0.36),(a:1800,0.34),(a:2200,0.36),(a:2600,0.32),(a:3000,0.28),(a:3400,0.22),(a:3800,0.16),(a:4200,0.10),(a:4600,0)))) "It's like grabbin' CLOUDS!" He SQUEEZES, hard enough that my flesh bulges between his fingers. "So much MEAT! And ye ASKED ME!" Both hands now, kneading, pulling, spreading. My cheeks part under his hands. Cool air where there should never be air. That smooth slit. Exposed. "Now WIGGLE 'em! Make 'em DANCE fer Master Snib!" "I-I can't-" "YE CAN!" He spanks once, hard. **CRACK!** The sound echoes. "Move them hips! Side to side!"(playwhenread:"spank 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.46),(a:120,0.28),(a:300,0.18),(a:500,0.10),(a:700,0.05),(a:900,0)))) I do it. The motion is... there's no comparison. When I had muscle there, tight warrior's glutes, moving my hips meant POWER. Meant combat stance, meant coiled strength. Now it's just... meat. Wobbling. My ass cheeks slap against each other with wet sounds, *plap-plap-plap*, independent of my will. They have their own momentum, continuing to jiggle after I stop moving. (change_stat:"snib",2)"LOOK AT 'EM GO!" Snib's hands follow the motion, riding the waves of flesh. "Like pudding! Like two BIG PALE puddings just SLOSHIN' around!" (vid:"img/ch03/ass grope naked.mp4","playwhenvisible") He pulls them apart again. Wider this time. I can feel everything: the stretch, the exposure, his thumbs pressing into the soft inner flesh near my- "Could fit me FACE in there!" He's panting now. "Could just BURY meself and-" **SMACK!**(playwhenread:"spank 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.44),(a:150,0.28),(a:350,0.18),(a:600,0.10),(a:900,0.06),(a:1200,0)))) (pic:"ch03/ass grope front view.jpg","right")His palm cracks across my right cheek. The flesh ripples, a wave traveling from impact point outward. I watch over my shoulder as the jiggle takes three full seconds to settle. (change_stat:"gold",250)"There!" He steps back, breathing hard. "Seven hundred fifty off yer debt! See? Master Snib keeps his word!" I push myself up on shaking arms. My ass still tingles where he touched, where he spread, where he LOOKED. "Now finish the floor," he orders, settling back on his furs. "Want it SPOTLESS." (display:"divider") The scrubbing becomes mechanical. Plank by plank. The water in the bucket turns brown, then black. I dump it, refill from the well, walking naked through the desert again, feeling sun on every inch. Bring it back. The dirt sections need sweeping. I grab the broom, start pushing refuse into piles. But what's refuse and what's... his belongings? "Master Snib?" The title comes easier now. Horrifyingly easier. "This... wooden soldier. Keep it?" "That? Nah, chuck it." I toss it out. Next item: a string of dried... something. Meat? "This?" "OI! That's JERKY! Been aging for MONTHS!" He snatches it, takes a bite. Grey meat tears between his teeth. "Don't touch me FOOD!" (pic:"ch03/scrubbing naked 2.jpg") More bones. More pottery shards. A woman's hair comb, teeth missing. My hands shake as I sweep it toward the door. "Keep that!" Snib calls. "Might need it fer yer hair later." I shudder. "Ye know..." Snib's voice goes thoughtful. "Yer workin' real hard. Real EAGER-like." He's rubbing himself through the loincloth again. *SCHLICK-SCHLICK.* "Tell ye what. Hundred fifty gold if ye let me play with them UDDERS. Just a good squeeze. Maybe a pinch." (simple_option:"03 tit offer","'No.'","'...One hundred fifty?'","matters")](else-if:$choice is "Stay silent. Keep scrubbing.")[I keep scrubbing. The rag moves in circles across the planks. Dirt lifts. Water darkens. My tits sway with each motion, my ass stays up, and Snib's laughter fills the hut. "Stubborn bitch! Could be RICH by now!" *SCHLICK-SCHLICK.* "But no, got yer PRIDE! Fat lot of good that does ye on yer knees!" I scrub harder. Get the corner clean, move to the next section. The wood has grain under all the filth, decent planking, probably stolen from traders like the roof. When the wet work's done, I stand. Everything jiggles into place. Snib's still leering, still stroking, but the moment's passed. I grab the broom again, start sweeping the dirt sections. It DOES look better. Still filthy, always will be, but closer to livable. For ME. "What about this?" I hold up something that looks like a dried... fruit? No, that's a shriveled-I don't want to know. "Keep or throw?" "Keep! That's a lucky rat's paw!" "It has six toes." "THAT'S what makes it lucky!" I toss it in the keep pile. Move on to what looks like a broken cup. "This?" "KEEP! I drink from that!" "It has no bottom." "Drains FAST that way!" Next item: a stick with something crusty on one end. "This?" "Me back-scratcher! DEFINITELY keep!" Everything's treasure to him. The broken, the filthy, the inexplicable. I sort through it anyway, making piles: actual refuse outside, "valuables" stacked near his furs. "Ye look GOOD when ye work!" Snib calls out, adjusting himself. "All them jiggly bits bouncin' around! Should keep ye naked ALL the time! Hundred times better than clothes!" I sweep the last corner. Dust billows out the door. The hut's... not good. But LIVABLE. Almost. "Oi! Titty-meat!" Snib sits up, grinning. "Got another offer!" I don't look at him. Keep sweeping. "One hundred fifty gold-" His voice pitches higher with excitement. "If ye let me play with them fat milk-bags! Just fer a bit! Squeeze 'em, jiggle 'em, maybe give 'em a good SLAP!" The broom stops mid-sweep. One hundred fifty. He LOWERED the price. Like I'm a merchant's goods that won't move. Like my degradation is going on SALE. (simple_option:"03 tit offer","'...How long?'","Stay silent. Finish sweeping.")]

($play:"ambience","desert morning")(if:$choice is "'...One hundred fifty?'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")*This isn't really my body,* I tell myself. The thought's slippery. Dangerous. "I... I'll do it." "Do WHAT?" Snib's already moving, cock tenting his fresh loincloth. "Gotta ask PROPER!" Kill me. Flux turn the wheel and kill me. "Master Snib..." My voice comes out tiny. "Will you... play with my..." I can't say it. "My chest." "CHEST?" He's right behind me now, breath hot on my back. "Ye mean them BIG SWINGING MILK-BAGS?" "Y-yes." (change_stat:"heroism",-4)"ASK BETTER!" "Will you..." I'm shaking. "Will you squeeze my... my... tits." "THERE WE GO!"(playwhenread:"plap 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:300,0.12),(a:600,0.20),(a:900,0.28),(a:1200,0.34),(a:1600,0.36),(a:2000,0.34),(a:2400,0.36),(a:2800,0.32),(a:3200,0.28),(a:3600,0.22),(a:4000,0.16),(a:4400,0.10),(a:4800,0)))) (pic:"ch03/grope tits.jpg","Those warty, rough hands slide up my ribs, then SINK into my tits from underneath.") His arms come around from behind. Those warty, rough hands slide up my ribs, every wart a separate point of heat, and SINK into my tits from underneath. "Must be ten pounds EACH!" He hefts them, weighing them like sacks of grain. They're not. Can't be. But when he lifts and drops them, watching them BOUNCE back into place with impacts I feel in my ribs, they might as well be boulders. *This isn't me. This isn't my body. Just meat. Just-* He comes around to my front, still groping, those yellow eyes level with my tits. He looks UP at me, grinning with all those broken teeth, and pinches both nipples between thumb and finger. "Look at me," he commands. I look down. Meet those yellow eyes. (pic:"ch03/grope nipples.jpg","I look down. Meet those yellow eyes.") He TWISTS.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:200,0.35),(a:400,0.42),(a:600,0.36),(a:800,0.44),(a:1000,0.38),(a:1200,0.46),(a:1400,0.20),(a:1550,0.30),(a:1700,0.18),(a:1850,0.22),(a:2000,0.12),(a:2200,0.15),(a:2400,0.08),(a:2600,0.10),(a:2800,0.04),(a:3000,0)))) "AH!" The sound rips out of me. He twists the other way, pulling my nipples out, stretching them until my whole tits deform into cones following his grip. Then he lets go. **WHAP-WOBBLE-WOBBLE** They snap back, flesh rippling in waves that take three full seconds to settle. He watches it happen, mesmerized. "AGAIN!" He grabs the nipples, pulls HARDER. I'm looking right into his eyes as he does it: seeing his delight, his OWNERSHIP, the way he's savoring every second of this. My tits stretch impossibly far, the skin going white at the pull points, then-(playwhenread:"boobslap 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.38),(a:150,0.24),(a:350,0.16),(a:550,0.22),(a:700,0.12),(a:850,0.15),(a:1000,0.06),(a:1200,0)))) **SLAP-WOBBLE-JIGGLE** "Listen to 'em!" He's cackling now, slapping the sides, watching them collide in the middle with meaty impacts. *WHAP-WHAP-WHAP*(playwhenread:"boobslap 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.36),(a:350,0.34),(a:700,0.38),(a:850,0.24),(a:1050,0.16),(a:1250,0.10),(a:1450,0.04),(a:1650,0)))) Each slap makes them swing in different directions, crashing into each other, the nipples still hard and scraped and burning from his twisting. I'm still looking into his eyes because looking away would be admitting this is happening, admitting that Aldric the Great is letting a goblin- "Bet yer wife's tits are NOTHING compared to these!" He grabs them both, SQUEEZES until flesh bulges between his fingers. "Bet she'd be JEALOUS! Might have to show her later!" (hidden_gem:"The thought of Elara seeing this makes me want to die.","The thought of Elara eyeing this exhibition makes me ache to evaporate entirely.") "There!" He steps back, steps back, rubbing his palms on his loincloth like a butcher finishing a cut. "Nine hundred gold off! See how EASY this can be?" (change_stat:"gold",150)I stand there, tits still wobbling slightly from the assault, nipples screaming, dignity in pieces on the floor. "Right then!" Snib yawns, stretches. "Time fer me afternoon nap. All this groping's tired me out!" I reach for my armor, anything to cover myself, to pretend the last hour didn't happen. The metal triangles feel like protection even though they cover nothing. Click. Click. The chains dig into my shoulders. The thong vanishes between my ass cheeks where he SPREAD them, where he- *Stop.* As I'm fastening the boots, Snib's hand shoots out. A leash materializes, dark, not-quite-leather, not-quite-metal, running from my collar to his fist. "Where ye think YER going?" "I... nowhere. Just-" He ties the leash to the post in the middle of the room. I'm suddenly aware of how the length works: I can reach most of the hut, but not the door. "There!" He settles onto his furs. "Don't want ye doing nothin' FUNNY while I sleep. Ye can clean more if ye want. Or just... sit there." Another yawn. "Like a proper pet." Within minutes, he's snoring. (pic:"ch03/cleaning leash 1.jpg") I stand in the center of the room, leashed like a dog, collar heavy on my throat. The chain's maybe eight feet, enough to move, not enough to matter. I pull at it experimentally. It doesn't budge. Doesn't even creak. Exists. Absolute. My eyes drift to the corner. Whisperwind.](else-if:$choice is "Stay silent. Finish sweeping.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")I turn away from him, sweeping the last corner. My arms cross my chest when I bend for the dustpan, an instinct that doesn't work. Too much flesh spills around my forearms anyway. "Playin' hard to get!" Snib laughs, but there's an edge now. "Think yer tits are too good fer goblin hands? They AIN'T! Just fat sacks of meat waitin' to be squeezed!" (change_stat:"snib",-1)The broom goes back in its corner. I keep my back to him, shoulders hunched. Can feel his eyes on my ass, on the curve of my spine, on everything. "Hmph." His fur pile rustles as he shifts. "Look at this place. Still looks like shit." I bite my tongue. It's CLEAN. Cleaner than it's ever been no doubt. "Them bones I wanted ARRANGED, not just tossed!" He yawns, stretching. "But I s'pose ye did... adequate. Fer a fat-titted humie who can't follow simple orders." *Adequate.* Seventeen years of hero work. And now I'm *adequate* at sweeping goblin shit. "Since ye worked SO HARD-" His voice drips sarcasm. "Ye can have some free time. Clean that sword of yers if ye want. Looks like someone jerked off all over it! HARHARHAR!" My hands clench. "Gonna take a nap now." More creaking as he settles into his newly-arranged furs. "All this watchin' ye prance around made me tired. Them bounce-bags are hypnotizin'!" Taking this as dismissal, I move toward my armor. The metal triangles wait in the sand where I dropped them. Freedom from his eyes, at least partial coverage of- "Where ye think yer goin', titty-slave?" I freeze, one hand reaching for the bikini top. "Can't have ye wanderin' off or doin' somethin' stupid while I sleep." His hand rises lazily, fingers grasping air. The collar tightens, not painfully, just enough to remind me it's there. Then something materializes from it: a leash. Dark chain, half-smoke, half-malice. It lashes from collar to fist like a striking snake. "There we go!" He loops it around the center post. Ties it. The leash goes taut when I step back, maybe six feet of length total. "Perfect! Now ye can play in yer corner like a good pet!" He rolls over, already drowsing. "Don't make too much noise. Master needs his beauty sleep after watchin' all that ASS-MEAT wobble around..." He's snoring inside ten breaths. Wet rattling, like something dying in his throat. I stand there, naked, leashed to a post like livestock. The armor's just within reach. I grab the bikini top first, have to lean against the leash's pull to get it. The metal's cold from lying in sand, makes my nipples tighten on contact. Getting it on while tethered is its own humiliation: I can't move freely, have to work around the chain's limitations. *Click.* One triangle secured. *Click.* The second. The thong next. Step in, pull up, feel it disappear between my ass cheeks with that wet sound that makes me want to scream. The boots last, those fucking spike-heels that turn walking into controlled falling. Dressed. If you can call this dressed. I give the leash an experimental tug. It holds fast, the knot somehow tightening when pulled. It pulses under my fingers. Warm. Alive. Certain of its purpose. (hidden_gem:"Like I'm his personal decoration in the middle of his shit-hut.","Like I'm his precious, prized, permanently-leashed decoration in his putrid pit.") Whisperwind waits in the corner, still crusted with dried cum that's gone flaky. Just within reach if I stretch the leash taut. Snib snores on, one hand down his fresh loincloth even in sleep. This is my "free time." Leashed like an animal while a goblin sleeps off his arousal. *At least I can clean the blade.*](else:)["...How long?" The words come out small. Defeated. "Just a bit! Few squeezes! Won't take but a moment!" Snib's already scrambling off his furs, cock tenting his fresh loincloth. "But ye gotta ASK proper! Like before!" I close my eyes. The broom handle creaks in my grip. *One hundred fifty. Now you're considering one-fifty of the stupid fake debt. It's all a game, but...* "Master Snib..." My voice catches. These words shouldn't exist. "Will you... will you please..." "Go on!" He's bouncing on his heels, three-foot-eight of green excitement. (change_stat:"heroism",-3)"Touch my..." I can't say it. "...chest." "CHEST?" He cackles. "That ain't what they are! Try again! And look at me when ye ask!" I open my eyes. Meet his yellow gaze. He's grinning so wide I can see all his broken teeth. "Master Snib, will you please... touch my..." The word sits like poison on my tongue. "...tits." He's on me before I can brace. His hands come from behind first, reaching around my waist, then sliding UP. Small, warty fingers find the undersides of my breasts and LIFT.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:300,0.12),(a:600,0.20),(a:900,0.28),(a:1200,0.32),(a:1600,0.34),(a:2000,0.32),(a:2400,0.30),(a:2800,0.26),(a:3200,0.20),(a:3600,0.14),(a:4000,0.08),(a:4400,0)))) The weight of them fills his palms, overflowing. He hefts them like testing fruit at market, bouncing them, weighing them. "FUCK me, these are HEAVY!" His breath's hot on my lower back, he's so SHORT his face is level with my spine. "Like holdin' water-skins! But WARM! And the skin's so SOFT!" He squeezes. His fingers sink into the flesh like it's dough, leaving pale marks when he adjusts his grip. I stare straight ahead at the wall, at those smallclothes trophies, trying to think about anything but the goblin hands kneading my- "Let's see the front!" He scuttles around, has to reach UP to keep hold. Now we're face to... stomach. He has to crane his neck to look at my face, but his eyes stay locked on his prizes. Both hands working, squeezing, lifting, DROPPING them to watch them bounce back into place. "Like hittin' butter-bags!" He slaps the left one from underneath. It jumps, jiggles, settles. Then the right. *This is happening. You ASKED for this to happen.* His fingers close on my nipples. "These little pink things!" He pinches them between thumb and forefinger, not hard enough to truly hurt but enough to make me gasp. "Like little pebbles! But watch-" He TWISTS.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.36),(a:250,0.32),(a:500,0.38),(a:750,0.34),(a:1000,0.40),(a:1250,0.34),(a:1500,0.18),(a:1700,0.24),(a:1900,0.14),(a:2100,0.18),(a:2300,0.08),(a:2500,0.12),(a:2700,0.04),(a:2900,0)))) Firm. Deliberate. My nipples stiffen under his grip like they're betraying me. He pulls them, watching my breasts follow, creating peaks before letting them snap back. "Pull 'em and the whole tit follows!" He does it again. Pull. Release. Pull. Release. My breasts dance to his rhythm, and I'm looking down at him, at this creature who killed maybe three humans in his whole life while I've slaughtered HUNDREDS of his kind, and he's playing with my tits like he owns them. Because he does. "The mighty Aldric," he says, still pulling my nipples, staring up into my eyes with pure malicious joy. (hidden_gem:"One hundred fifty gold. The price of my dignity.","One hundred fifty gold. The pittance-price of my pride's pillaging.") He gives one last SQUEEZE, both hands, HARD, making me yelp, then steps back(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.16),(a:200,0.30),(a:400,0.38),(a:600,0.36),(a:800,0.28),(a:1000,0.18),(a:1200,0.08),(a:1400,0)))), wiping his hands on his loincloth like he's been handling raw meat.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:200,0.32),(a:400,0.40),(a:600,0.38),(a:800,0.30),(a:1000,0.20),(a:1200,0.10),(a:1400,0)))) "Worth every copper of that discount!" He yawns, huge and theatrical. "All that touchin' made me tired. Gonna have a nap." He waddles to his furs, but stops. Turns. That grin again. "Actually... don't want ye gettin' IDEAS while I sleep." His hand extends. The leash materializes, dark and slithering, solidifying as it moves. It latches to my collar with a wet click. He loops the other end around the center post. "There! Now ye can move around but not too far. Like a proper pet!" The leash gives me maybe six feet of movement. Enough to reach my armor. Enough to get to- Whisperwind. Still in the corner. Still covered in dried cum. "Sweet dreams, tit-slave!" Snib collapses onto his furs, asleep between one breath and the next. His snoring floods the hut. I'm alone. Tied to a post like a dog. My nipples still ache from his fingers. The ghost of his hands still burns on my breasts. Time to get dressed. Time to remember who I'm supposed to be. The armor sits in the sand where I dropped it. I pull on the bottom first, the metal thong sliding back between my ass cheeks with practiced humiliation. Then the top, wrestling my tits back into the triangular prisons. They barely fit after being handled, nipples still hard, scraping against metal with each breath. The boots last. My feet scream as they're forced back into that pointed angle. Dressed. If you can call it that.] (simple_option:"03 clean sword","Try to clean Whisperwind.")

(if:$choice is "'I'm... I'm your slave.'")[(pic:"ch03/clean clothed submissive.jpg","gif")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/2.png") The words taste like grave dirt. (change_stat:"heroism",-2)"I'm..." My voice shakes, high and wrong. "I'm your slave." *Why did I say that?* "HARHARHAR! Yes ye are!" Snib jumps up, cock bouncing in his loincloth. "Me own personal tit-slave! Hero-hole! Knew ye'd figure it out!" He waddles closer, grabs my chin, forces me to look at him while I'm still on my knees. These massive tits compress between my thighs. "Good slave knows what she is! Say it again-but put some MEAT on it! What KIND of slave?" My lips move without permission: "Your... cleaning slave." "Nah! Yer me-" He thinks, yellow eyes bright. "Me *booyagh* slave! That's gobbo fer... fer BEST slave! The sparkly one!" He grins wider. "Cause look at ye-all them curves! That's mad booyagh right there!" (change_stat:"snib",1)He starts pacing, excited, talking half to me, half to himself. "Slaves gotta be kept proper-like though. Can't have ye wanderin'. Might get IDEAS."](else-if:$choice is "'I'm Aldric the Great. Still.'")[(pic:"ch03/clean clothed defiant.jpg")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png") The defiance burns through humiliation like acid. "I'm Aldric the Great." My voice steadies. Snib stops mid-stroke. Stares at me. Then explodes into laughter so hard he falls backward onto his furs. "ALDRIC! HAHAHAHA! The Great! With them fat udders draggin' on me floor!" He's wheezing, holding his sides. "Aldric who just BEGGED me to grab that shelf-arse! Oh that's-that's PRECIOUS!" He scrambles up, still giggling, wipes tears from his yellow eyes. "Tell ye what, ALDRIC-" He emphasizes the name like it's the punchiest of punchlines. "Since yer still a hero and all, ye need proper hero treatment! Can't have the GREAT ALDRIC just wanderin' around loose!" His tone shifts to mock-serious. "Heroes need... what's the word... STRUCTURE! Yeah! Like them war-horses ye humies keep! All tied up nice in their stalls!"](else:)[(pic:"ch03/clean clothed submissive.jpg","gif")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/3.png") "Not talkin'?" Snib's voice drips amusement. "That's fine. Know what ye are anyway. Yer me *grund-thrack*!" I don't want to know what that means. "The one that just TAKES it!" He laughs at his own cleverness. "Silent grund-thrack, scrubbin' me floors with them tits out!"] He snaps his fingers. The leash materializes from smoke, dark links that shiver between solid and smoke, conjured from nothing, already ancient. "Up! Stand up!" I push myself to standing. Everything jiggles into place. My knees are red from the floor, tits wet from dragging through dirty water. "Perfect!" He grabs the leash, yanks me toward the center of the room where a wooden post rises from floor to roof, probably the only thing keeping this shit-heap standing. "Right here!" He wraps the leash around the post three times, each loop making a sound like metal on bone. When he lets go, I try to step back, the leash goes taut at maybe four feet. "There!" He looks so PROUD of himself. "Now ye can't wander off! Can't get into trouble! Just like a proper-" He pauses, grins wider, "-like a proper pet!" (pic:"ch03/leashed.jpg","I pull at the collar. The leash doesn't budge.") I pull at the collar. The leash doesn't budge. It shimmers when I stare at it. Holds like iron when I pull. "Oh!" Snib's eyes light up. "Know what ye want!" He walks to the corner where Whisperwind waits, still caked in his dried seed. Picks it up with both hands, has to strain, the blade's still heavy even corrupted, and drops it JUST out of my reach. *CLANG* A few feet away. I lunge for it, the leash snaps taut, collar digging into my throat. My fingertips are maybe six inches short. "HARHARHAR!" I try again. Same result. The sword lies there, the inscription, ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO, glinting through the cumcrust. "Tell ye what-" Snib yawns, showing all those broken teeth. "I'm tired. Been a good day! Got me clothes washed, hut cleaned, breakfast cooked, even got to play with that bounce-meat proper!" He collapses onto his furs, already pulling his loincloth aside to get comfortable. His cock flops out, still semi-hard, purple head glistening. "Ye just... think about what ye are." Another yawn. Within minutes, he's snoring. That wet, rattling sound like someone drowning in their own phlegm. And I'm standing here. Leashed to a post like a fucking dog. Six feet of movement in any direction. Whisperwind JUST out of reach, taunting me with how close it is. (hidden_gem:"The collar's weight feels doubled, tripled, infinite.","The collar's weight waxes wildly-doubled, tripled, tenfold, infinite.") I pull against the leash again. Nothing. It doesn't even creak. Just holds, absolute and immutable as the collar itself. This is my life. Tied to a post in a goblin's hut. Unable to reach my sword. (simple_option:"03 clean sword","Use the broom to reach the sword...")

($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","desert blues")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(pic:"ch03/whisperwind cleaning.jpg","right")(if:$choice is "Use the broom to reach the sword...")[The broom handle shakes in my grip as I extend it toward Whisperwind. Snib's snores rattle wet in his throat. Sounds like a pig drowning in mud. Good. Stay asleep, you little shit. The broom catches on the pommel. I pull. The sword scrapes across the dirt floor, each inch gained feeling like a small victory. When it's finally close enough, ]I crouch, tits hanging heavy, swaying, and stare at what's been done to my blade. The cum has dried into geological layers. The outer crust, yellowed like old parchment, cracks and flakes where it's thickest. Underneath, I can see glossier patches where it's still tacky, and at the deepest points near the fuller- It's still WET. Still glistening. Like it just happened. The smell hits when I lean closer. Pure... MUSK. Concentrated goblin essence. It floods my sinuses, makes my head swim like I've stood up too fast. A shimmer rises off the blade. My nipples tighten against the metal triangles.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",3200,"forever",true)) *No. Focus.* (hidden_gem:"I grab the knife with trembling fingers.","I grasp the goblin's gutter-knife with grievously trembling grip.") The first scrape peels away a sheet of dried seed thick as leather. It comes off in one piece, revealing more underneath. Layer after layer. How much did he- The inscription shows through: ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO. The letters face away from the grip. When planted, others read it. Not me. It's not FOR me. "I'm sorry," I whisper to the blade. My voice cracks. "Whisperwind, I'm so fucking sorry." (pic:"ch03/whisperwind cleaning closeup.jpg","left","The knife works at the worst patches. Scrape. Peel.")The knife works at the worst patches. Scrape. Peel. The sound it makes, like removing scabs. Some parts require sawing, the cum has formed actual ROPES between the crossguard and blade. They stretch when pulled, elastic, before snapping with wet sounds. Deeper layers reveal themselves. Here it's not yellow but pearl-white, almost luminous. Still warm somehow. Still ALIVE. When I chip at it, it clings to the knife, stretches in strings I have to cut. The smell intensifies. My thighs press together involuntarily. Something low in my belly clenches-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2800,"forever",true)) *Stop.* I pour water from the bucket, watch it run over the blade. The cum doesn't dissolve. It has to be scraped, peeled, CUT away. Like it's bonded to the metal. Like it's claimed it. The grip is worst. His seed worked into every wrap of the dragonskin, soaked deep. I scrub with the rag but it just spreads the wetness around. The texture under my fingers, slick, wrong, almost warm- A sound escapes me. High. Breathy. I bite my tongue hard enough to taste copper. The blade itself has changed. Where skyforged steel once shimmered, now it's the purple-black of a bruise. The wind runes are gone, replaced by symbols that hurt to read. They pulse faintly, like veins. But it's still Whisperwind. Still mine. Changed like I'm changed, corrupted like I'm corrupted, but MINE. Twenty minutes of scraping. Peeling. Cutting away corruption. The pile of dried cum beside me looks like shed snakeskin, if snakes shed in ropes and chunks. My hands shake from gripping the knife so tight. My face burns from leaning too close to that MUSK. (pic:"ch03/whisperwind clean.jpg","right","gif")Finally, FINALLY, the worst is gone. The blade's still stained, but I can hold the grip without touching seed. I stand, Whisperwind in hand. The weight's all wrong. Too light. Balanced for these smaller hands. When I try a practice swing, it moves like it's underwater. No song. Just dead air. My bladder suddenly reminds me it exists. All that well water. All that scrubbing. It presses urgent and undeniable. I look at the door. Can't reach. Look at the corner. Can't reach. The leash holds me to maybe five feet from the post in any direction. The bucket sits there. Empty except for dirty water and cum-flakes. *No.* But the pressure builds. My thighs squeeze together. Different reason now. This soft body doesn't hold it like Aldric's did. Everything's more urgent, more immediate. I test Whisperwind's edge against the leash. The shadow-metal doesn't even notice the blade. Like cutting smoke. The sword passes through without resistance, without effect. But what if... What if I cut the POST? The wood's old. Worn. Probably half-rotten. If I can saw through it, collapse this whole section, maybe- My bladder throbs again. Soon I won't have a choice. Snib snorts in his sleep, rolls over. His cock flops out of his loincloth completely, purple head glistening with fresh precum even while unconscious. (pic:"ch03/cut swing.jpg") (minigame:"03 cut post",10,"Cut the post!")

(pic:"ch03/cut free.jpg")($play:"ambience","desert morning") (unless:$choice is "Fail Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/2.png")($play:"song","elise theme")I study the wood. Pine, old growth by the rings visible through splits in the grain. Desert-dried for decades until it's hard as iron on the outside, but... there. A dark stain near the base where water damage has crept in. Where the grain separates. Where rot has made it soft. *Perfect.* I shift my weight to test balance. These heel-boots force my calves into permanent tension, ankles locked at an angle that makes a proper stance impossible. When I spread my legs for stability, my thighs burn immediately. The armor clinks, always fucking clinking, and my tits shift with their own momentum, pulling my center of gravity forward. A man's body plants itself. A woman's... wobbles. I grip Whisperwind two-handed. The corrupted pommel fits my smaller palms perfectly now, like the blade WANTS these hands. First position: high guard. My arms come up and these fucking udders are immediately in the way, pressing against my forearms, forcing my elbows out wider than they should be. (hidden_gem:"Everything about this body fights against what I know.","Everything about this physique fights and foils what I fundamentally know.") Lower guard then. I drop the blade horizontal at hip height. Better. The weight's wrong, too light, balanced for quick slashes rather than power strikes, but I can work with this. The target: that water-stained section eight inches from the floor. One clean cut. Has to be perfect. If I hack at it, Snib wakes. If I miss, the blade bites dirt and makes noise. One chance. Seventeen years of training coalesce into this moment. Every beast I've slain. Every midnight practice. Every- *Elara.* Her face. Waking alone. Wondering where her husband is. Not knowing that he's... that I'm... The rage builds in my chest, deep in these ridiculous tits, under the breastbone that shouldn't exist. It travels down my arms like lightning seeking ground. My hands tighten on the grip. I breathe. Once. Twice. On the third breath, I move. The blade comes around in a perfect arc. Controlled violence. My hips rotate first, then shoulders, then arms, everything flowing like water despite the heels trying to topple me. The corrupted blade sings, something guttural and starving. *THUNK*(playwhenread:"chop success") Whisperwind bites through pine like it's parchment. The cut so clean the post doesn't even shift for a heartbeat. Then, slowly, it tilts. The top section slides sideways with a whisper, hits the floor with a dull thud. The leash goes slack. The weight of the post-top drags at my collar but it's FREE. I'm- Snib snorts. Rolls over. My heart hammers. I freeze, Whisperwind still extended in follow-through position. He mumbles something in Goblish, "thrack-meat," and his hand fumbles at his cock. Gives it two sleepy strokes. Then the snoring resumes, somehow wetter than before. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. The bladder-pressure returns, urgent now. I step toward the door, dragging the post-top behind me. It scrapes once on the floor. I freeze again. Snib doesn't stir. (simple_option:"03 outside","Leave the hut.")](else:)[(playwhenread:"chop fail")($play:"song","ridden music")The strike comes down clean- *THUNK* The blade buries maybe two inches. The post doesn't even shake. Low guard. Come at it from the angle, where the grain splits. I pull back, readjust, these fucking udders swaying with each movement. The second strike- *THUNK* Another two inches. Different spot. The post stands solid as castle stone. "What in the-" I grab the grip with both hands, plant my heel-spike, and PULL. The blade doesn't budge. I adjust my stance, ass out for leverage, tits compressed between my arms, and yank harder. Nothing. "HEHEHEHE-what's all this then?" My blood freezes. Snib's awake, propped on one elbow, watching me struggle. "Tryin' to cut yer way free?" He yawns wide enough to count the stumps. "With them noodle arms? HAH!" I pull harder, face burning. The sword's stuck deep, the soft wood closing around it like a wound. "Look at ye! Probably can't even lift a full ale pot now!" He's sitting up fully, cock already tenting his loincloth from watching me struggle. "Them's lady muscles now! Soft! Weak! Good fer nothin' but jigglin'!" My hands slip. I stumble back, the leash snapping taut, keeping me from falling but making my tits bounce violently. "Please-" The word burns coming out. "I need-Master Snib, I need the privy." (hidden_gem:"My bladder screams for relief, heavy and urgent as a fist.","My bladder bellows for blessed relief, bearing down brutal and urgent as an iron fist.") "Privy?" He scratches his balls, grinning wider. "What's wrong with right here?" "I need to go outside to-" "Bucket." The filthy bucket I just used for cleaning. Sitting right there in the middle of his hut. "I can't-not in-" "Sure ye can! Squat right over it! Give us a show!" He settles back on his furs, both hands behind his head now. "Bet ye never pissed as a girl before! This'll be EDUCATIONAL!" (change_stat:"heroism",-2)My face burns so hot it hurts. But the pressure is getting unbearable. This soft body doesn't hold it like- "Come on then! Unless ye'd rather water me floor?" I position myself over the bucket. Have to spread my legs wide to clear it. The armor barely covers anything in this position: the thong disappears completely between my ass cheeks, my pussy lips probably visible from behind. "That's it! Squat like ye're birthin'!" Snib's moved for a better view, sitting cross-legged right behind me. "Look at them thighs shake! And that smoothie peekin' out!" I lower myself. These heels make it impossible to balance properly. My thighs burn. My tits hang heavy, nearly hitting the bucket rim. Everything's wrong. The angle, the position, the lack of anything to AIM with- "What's the hold-up?" Snib reaches out, SLAPS my ass. The flesh jiggles for three full seconds. "Just let it flow! Like openin' a tap!" But I can't. The muscles, everything's different. I don't know HOW. And with him watching, breathing on my exposed ass, making comments- (pic:"ch03/pee focus.jpg","The muscles, everything's different.") "Need help?" "NO!" "Then GET ON WITH IT!" I close my eyes. Try to relax muscles I don't understand. The pressure's overwhelming but nothing happens. Just this burning need and the inability to- "Hehehehe! The great Aldric can't even PISS right!" Snib's cackling. Tears prick my eyes. Actual tears. From the pressure, from the humiliation, from the fact that I'm squatting over a bucket in a goblin's hut and I can't even- "Maybe ye need encouragement!" He reaches between my legs from behind, flicks the metal covering my- A few drops escape. Just drops. The relief is so intense I moan. "THERE it is! Knew ye had it in ye! Or... OUT of ye! HARHARHAR!" (simple_option:"03 pee","Focus!")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")($play:"ambience","desert wind")(hidden_gem:"The desert sun hits like a slap when I stumble outside.","The desert sun strikes and stings like a slap when I stumble outside.") *CLOP-wobble-CLOP* The sand's hot even through the metal boots. I make it maybe ten feet before the pressure becomes pain. Can't hold it. This soft body doesn't have the same... capacity. Behind the dead olive tree. I squat, have to SQUAT, and pull the metal thong aside with trembling fingers. It peels away from my pussy with a sound that makes my ears burn.(playwhenread:"elise peeing outside") (pic:"ch03/pee outside.jpg") The relief is instant and devastating. But the SOUND: that hissing rush hitting sand beneath me, spattering warm against my inner thighs. Crouched in heels with my ass out, praying the splatter misses my boots. The leash tugs at my collar as the post-top shifts. Then, like smoke dissolving, the shadow-chain simply vanishes. The collar recognizes I'm not trying to escape. Just trying to piss without soiling myself. This is what I've become. The Hero of Eboncrest, squatting to pee behind a dead tree. I straighten, pull the thong back into place where it immediately disappears between my ass cheeks. Whisperwind's still in my hand, lighter than it should be, shortened and wrong but still MINE. And Snib's still asleep. (simple_option:"03 practice","Practice swordplay.")

($play:"song","elise theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/2.png")The sand plateau stretches flat as a threshing floor twenty paces from the well, wind-scoured and packed hard enough that my heel-platforms only sink to the ankle. Good enough. If Snib wants me earning gold with this blade, I need to know what this soft architecture of curves and wobbles can actually do with a sword. I take position. First assessment: my arms are shorter by a hand's span. Whisperwind, even corrupted and shortened, feels too long. When I extend to full reach, my shoulder screams protest. Second: these TITS. Sweet Flux's teeth, they're like having two saddlebags strapped to my ribs. When I raise the blade to high guard, shoulder position, my forearms crush against them. The metal triangles dig in, scales biting... nipple. I adjust wider, elbows flared like a crow's wings. Ugly but necessary. Third: these thrakking heels. These platforms keep me from sinking but force my weight forward onto the balls of my feet. My calves already burn from the morning's work. Every stance needs to be wider, lower, or I'll topple. *Begin.* (pic:"ch03/kata.jpg")(playwhenread:"sword practice") First form. I step back-diagonal, platform heel dragging a furrow. The blade comes up outside my chest instead of center. When I cut down, the arc is narrower, tighter. Less power but the motion doesn't collide with soft flesh. (hidden_gem:"The sun throws my shadow long across the sand.","The sun slings my shadow, stretching and strange, across the sand.") The wrath stroke. Diagonal down. My hips turn harder than they should. No, that's not right. They turn DIFFERENTLY. This pelvis spans wider than my old shoulders did, hip bones flaring out like the yoke of an ox cart. When I try to rotate for the cut, it's not the tight coil of a warrior's torso anymore. It's this sweeping, grinding arc that starts somewhere deep in my belly and ripples outward. (pic:"ch03/kata.gif","right")The bones themselves are set at angles that make my thighs cant inward even when I'm trying to stand straight. When I pivot, these wide-set bones force my whole lower body to follow a broader path, like trying to turn a wagon instead of a riding horse. The power's all in the hips now. When the blade stops, my tits keep going, bounce-settling a heartbeat later. Reset. Try again. This time I WAIT for them to settle before moving. Cut. Pause. Breathe. Cut. Pause. It's like fighting underwater, every motion delayed, reconsidered. Half-sword grip. Maybe close work is better. My left hand finds the blade's middle, careful of the edge. This brings everything tighter to my body. A thrust from the plow guard. My chest forces my elbows wide, but the shortened grip compensates. The desert wind picks up, throwing sand against my exposed skin. It should sting, but this skin seems made for desert heat, drinking in the sun that would blister even Aldric's hardened flesh. Footwork next. The box pattern, four cardinal directions. But in these heels, every step is a controlled fall. Toe first, platform sliding, never stabbing down. My ass, there's so MUCH of it, shifts with each movement, its own counterweight. When I pivot, it swings wide, forcing me to adjust or tumble. Fourth form: Serpent Coils. Close-in binding work where opponents' blades lock and wrestle. But when I try to bring my arms across for the entanglement, my tits are completely in the way. I can't get the proper angle. Can't- *Adapt.* I drop the bind lower, working below chest height. My thighs burn from the sustained squat but it WORKS. The blade snakes around an imaginary opponent's guard, creating the opening. From here, a pommel strike to the phantom's jaw, using the lower stance to drive upward with my legs. Sweat runs between my tits, down my belly, pooling where the metal thong sits at my hips. The afternoon sun starting to set. Each breath tastes of heat and sand. Next I try a square, six cuts describing a box around an opponent. But modified. The horizontal cuts can't cross my chest, so I make them shorter, snappier, all wrist and forearm. The rising cuts use hip rotation, that mill wheel pelvis grinding around to generate power the shoulders can't provide. By the seventh form variation, I'm panting. These tits heave with each breath. Sweat makes the metal slick. My thighs tremble from holding the lower stances. But it's there: a new rhythm emerging. Serpentine. Low and rolling, like a dancer who kills. I feel ambitious. A full spin-cut. I need to know if- I gather, inhale, and SPIN. For one perfect moment, I'm flying. The blade describes a perfect circle, the desert blurs, my body moves as one piece despite all its wrong weights and wobbles. It's working, the momentum carrying through, the- The platform heel hits a soft patch. My ankle rolls. The spin becomes a stumble. My tits fly one way, my ass the other. The blade goes wide. I try to recover but the heels won't let me, and suddenly I'm falling forward, arms windmilling, Whisperwind flying from my grip- *WHUMPF*(playwhenread:"fall sand",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.32),(a:100,0.20),(a:350,0.26),(a:500,0.14),(a:650,0.18),(a:800,0.08),(a:950,0.12),(a:1100,0.04),(a:1250,0)))) (pic:"ch03/fall.jpg") Face-first into sand. My tits hit first, BOUNCING me before I complete the face-plant. Sand in my mouth, my nose, my eyes. The armor jingles mockingly as I lie there, ass up, face down, looking like I'm presenting myself to the desert. (pic:"ch03/snib desert mock.jpg","right")"HARHARHARHARHAR!" Snib's right there. Of course he is. Standing in the doorway, cock tenting his fresh loincloth, tears streaming down his warty face from laughing so hard. "LOOK AT YE! EATING SAND WITH YER TITS OUT!" I struggle to my knees. Sand cascades from my cleavage. "How long-" "Long enough to see them milk-bags try to fly away! HARHAR! Swingin' that sword like ye're churning butter!" He waddles closer. "Ye looked like ye were fightin' yerself more than any enemy!" (simple_option:"03 end of practice","Glare at him with pure hatred.","'I was testing this body's limits.'","Say nothing, just retrieve the sword.")(if:$sound)[(unlock_lore:"Aethel-thuvari","other",4)]

(if:$choice is "Glare at him with pure hatred.")[(pic:"ch03/post practice hatred.jpg","My eyes burn into his, all the venom I can muster through sand-crusted lashes.")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/2.png") My eyes burn into his, all the venom I can muster through sand-crusted lashes. The kind of look that used to make bandits reconsider their life choices. Snib just grins wider.(playwhenread:"ooh scary") "Ooooh, scary! The tit-slave's givin' me the evil eye!" He clutches his chest in mock terror. "What ye gonna do, bounce at me threateningly? HARHAR!" He circles around behind me while I'm still on my knees, spitting sand. ](else-if:$choice is "'I was testing this body's limits.'")[(playwhenread:"testing limits")(vid:"img/ch03/post practice defeat.mp4","right")"Testing limits?" Snib doubles over laughing. "Only limit I saw was how far them udders can swing before they take ye down! HARHARHAR!" He circles around behind me while I'm on my knees, wiping sand from my mouth. "Looked more like ye were testin' how much sand ye could eat with yer face!" ]His warty fingers tangle in my hair. GRAB and YANK.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:80,0.30),(a:200,0.36),(a:350,0.25),(a:500,0.32),(a:650,0.22),(a:800,0.28),(a:1000,0.20),(a:1200,0.15),(a:1500,0.10)))) My scalp explodes with pain. He hauls backward with both hands, using the black silk like fucking reins. My head snaps back, neck arching, these massive tits thrust forward as my spine bows. "AAHH-" A woman's yelp tears from my throat, high and breathy. My hands fly to my head, trying to ease the pressure, but he just pulls HARDER, dragging me upward from my knees. For a heartbeat I'm suspended, ass still on my heels, upper body pulled backward, every muscle straining. Then he YANKS again and my ass lifts, knees coming off the sand, forced to scramble upright or have my hair ripped from my skull.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:100,0.30),(a:250,0.35),(a:400,0.22),(a:600,0.28),(a:800,0.18),(a:1000,0.12),(a:1200,0)))) (pic:"ch03/hair pull.jpg","'UP, COW-TITS!'","left")My legs won't cooperate fast enough. These heels slip in sand. One knee, then the other. I'm scrambling, whimpering, hands still clutching at his grip while he just HOLDS THERE, three feet of warty goblin muscle using my hair to puppet this whole soft body into whatever position he wants. "UP, COW-TITS!" His voice right behind my ear. Hot breath on my neck. "Stop rollin' in the dirt like a fuckin' sow." Another yank. My vision whites at the edges. My mouth drops open. I'm PANTING. Why am I panting? It's just hair, just- The hair is only part of it. He can DO this. Grab and yank and move me however he wants. My body understands before my mind does: *this creature owns you.* "Cleaned me jizz off yer sword, did ye?" He's pulling me backward now, walking me like a horse on a lead. Every step I take, he tugs just slightly, REMINDING me.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.16,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",1200,"forever",true)) "Scraped off all them nut-ropes? Good little maid?" "Let-" My voice cracks. "Let go-" His free hand GRIPS my ass, fingers sinking deep into soft flesh, CLAIMING it.(playwhenread:"breathing level 3",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:250,0.24),(a:500,0.34),(a:800,0.38),(a:1200,0.36),(a:1600,0.34),(a:2000,0.30),(a:2400,0.22),(a:2800,0.14),(a:3200,0)))) He releases both, hair and ass, and I stumble forward, catching myself on shaking legs. But it's already happened. That thing I can't name. That dropping sensation behind my navel, spreading like spilled honey. My thighs go soft. My belly goes open. Everything below my waist just... waits.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:500,0.06),(a:1000,0.12),(a:1500,0.18),(a:2000,0.22),(a:2500,0.20),(a:3000,0.18),(a:3500,0.22),(a:4000,0.20),(a:4500,0.18),(a:5000,0.16),(a:6000,0.14),(a:7000,0.12),(a:8000,0.10)))) My throat's tight but my mouth is wet. My skin prickles but I'm suddenly, inexplicably HOT. Deeper than blushing. A furnace lights in my belly that has nothing to do with the desert sun. *No. Fuck no. Not from THIS.* But I can feel it. The way my thighs want to press together from something worse than shame. The way my breath won't steady. The way every hair on my body stands at attention like tiny soldiers saluting their conqueror. The way my nipples have gone so hard they're practically drilling through the metal triangles. He didn't touch them. Didn't touch between my legs. He grabbed my HAIR. Moved me where he wanted. And my body, this fucking TRAITOR meat, responded like he'd- (pic:"ch03/desert arousal.jpg","Stop thinking about it. Just stop.") *Stop thinking about it. Just stop.* But I can't. Because he's wadding closer again, and I can SMELL him now. That concentrated goblin smell that shouldn't do anything but repulse me. Except my nostrils are flaring. Except I'm drawing it DEEPER. "Now." Snib's stomach gurgles audibly. "That plant-mush from morning ain't stickin'. Need MEAT. Real meat. Something that bleeds when ye bite it!" He scratches his balls through the loincloth, considering. "Ye're gonna hunt. But PROPER this time. Not just picking berries like some Tel-wife." He spits in the sand. "Desert's full of meat if ye know where to look. I'm usually eatin' carrion." I brush sand from my face. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm hungry too. Or, does my transformation make me crave what my little 'Master' requests? "Then I need a bow." "Don't got one!" He says. "Make it. Bendy stick, stretchy string, pointy sticks. How hard can it be?" *Very hard, actually.* But there might be materials. Perhaps that desert yucca near the well... and the hut's full of leather scraps that could work for string. Arrows though... thrack. "The sun's already setting." "Then what ye waitin' for?" Snib kicks sand at me. "Want me meat!" (hidden_gem:"The day's dying light paints everything the color of dried blood.","The day's dying light dyes and drowns everything in dried blood's dull hue.") I look around Snib's compound. I try to think like a hunter, not a humiliated slave. "TODAY, cow-tits!"($play:"ambience","desert wind") (simple_option:"03 make bow","Search for materials.")

($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")I'm lucky, for once.(playwhenread:"bow making") The dead olive tree has a living shoot at its base: green wood, finger-thick, about four feet long. Still flexible. I saw at it with the knife until it comes free, already bending into a natural curve. String is the real problem. No time to cure sinew properly. That takes days. But there: Snib's pile of "trophies," which I had to dust and lay out. There's a leather bodice, still supple despite the desert heat. I cut it into strips with the knife, working fast. "Oi! That's me favorite!" Snib protests. "Belonged to a miller's daughter with the BIGGEST-" "Are you planning to wear it?" I snap, sawing another strip. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks down at his pot belly and the cock that won't stay in his loincloth. "...ye owe me another one!" (pic:"ch03/bow making.jpg") I soak two laces in water from the bucket. Stretch them between my hands, working out the give. Then twist, hard, opposite directions in each hand until the leather wants to coil on itself. Let it fold back, become two-ply cord. The twist locks tight, stronger than braiding. I notch both ends of the green wood with the knife, shallow cuts. Wrap each notch with thin rawhide thread I cut from the bodice's stays. Keeps the wood from splitting under tension. String it while the wood's still moist, then hold the whole contraption near the dying cook-fire embers. The leather shrinks as it dries, pulling tighter. Less stretch on the first shot. The draw weight's pathetic, maybe twenty pounds if I'm generous. But it only needs to work once. Arrows. The pottery shards by the wall are sharp enough. I split three straight twigs from the olive tree, each about two feet long. But I need to fletch them, and feathers do not number among the refuse around the hut. Fur? The scraps from Snib's old kills are too matted, too stiff. I need something light, something that catches air but doesn't add weight. A strand of my own hair falls across my vision as I crouch there, thinking. Long, silky black hair that the collar gave me. There's so fucking MUCH of it. I grab the knife, reach back, find a section near the nape. Start sawing. "What ye doin'?" Snib waddles closer, watching with interest. "Fletching." The hair comes free in a thick bundle, maybe forty strands wound together. "HARHAR! Cuttin' yer pretty hair! Gonna look like a moth-chewed rug!" I ignore him, too focused. Tie the bundle into a single tuft at the back end of each arrow shaft, leaving it loose to drag and slow the spin. It's not proper, but it's better than nothing. Two more cuts. Two more tufts. Three arrows with trailing black hair, looking like crude ceremonial pieces. (pic:"ch03/bow hunting.jpg","left")"Looks ridiculous!" Snib announces. "Yer gonna hunt with sticks that got yer hair danglin' off 'em! HARHARHAR!" "It'll work." Three arrows. One bow that might last ten shots. About an hour of work, all in all. (hidden_gem:"The evening paints the desert in shades of amber and ash.","The evening enamels every element in amber and ash.") *CLOP-CLOP* across the sand. The bow feels wrong in hands too small, arms too short. But I know where to look. The rockpile near the well. I crouch, everything jiggles, twenty paces away. Far enough they won't spook. Close enough for this child's toy of a bow. Wait. The sun drops lower. Shadows lengthen. There. Movement. A sand-colored ear. Then the whole hare, emerging for evening forage. It's thin, ribs showing through patchy fur.(playwhenread:"bow rabbit") I draw. The leather creaks dangerously. My tits force my elbow out at an ugly angle. Sight down the arrow, no proper fletching means it'll fly wild, but at this distance... Release. The arrow goes wide by a foot. The hare freezes. Second arrow already nocked. Draw. Compensate for the bow's weakness, for these tits in the way, for- *THWPP* (pic:"ch03/hare.jpg","right","Desert hare, stringy but it's meat.")The pottery shard takes it in the side. Not a clean kill. The hare screams, that horrible sound they make, and tries to run, but just drags itself in a circle. I have to finish it with the knife. It's small. Maybe two pounds of meat once dressed. But it's MEAT. Back at the hut, I gut it quickly. Save the heart and liver, best nutrition. The hide comes off in one piece with practice. Now I need-(playwhenread:"rabbit kill") Snib snatches it from my hands. "Thrackin' finally!" He doesn't even wait. Just BITES into the raw flesh, tearing with those broken teeth. Blood runs down his chin. The sound: wet, ripping, chunks of raw meat getting gulped down without chewing. "Mmmmph-GOOD!" He talks through the mouthful. "FRESH meat!" I stand there watching him devour MY kill. The liver goes down in two bites. He cracks the tiny bones with his teeth, sucks out the marrow. Even gnaws the skull open for the brain. Within three minutes, nothing's left but scraps of fur and a red stain on his hands. "Ahhhhh!" He belches, patting his distended belly. "THAT'S eating! Not like that plant-mush this morning!" He tosses me a leg bone with a few shreds of meat still clinging. (simple_option:"03 cook rabbit","Cook it.")

(vid:"img/ch03/roast rabbit.mp4","right")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song",0)I blow on the coals until they glow. The leg bone goes directly over the embers, speared through with the same stick I'd used for the cactus. The smell of charring flesh fills the hut. Behind me, Snib stretches out on his furs, one hand down his loincloth. He starts humming, then singing in that wet-gravel voice: (playwhenread:"storak song")*"Storak big, Storak strong,* *Storak fuck-fuck all day long,* *Made the goblins from his cum,* *Green spawn from his booyagh drum."* I turn the bone with a stick. The meat's already blackening. "Look at ye, squattin' there." His voice is lazy, drowsy with food and warmth. "Them thick humie thighs spread wide. That fat arse pushed out. Cookin' me leftovers like a proper she-slave." My ears burn, but I just focus on the food. *"Thrack-thrack, fill the holes,* *Storak says breed-breed-breed,* *No more gobbo cunts to stuff,* *Humie wombs is what we need."* The meat's done, what there is of it. I gnaw it straight off the bone, trying to ignore his singing. The charred flesh tastes of smoke and desperation. Three bites. That's all. But I don't feel hungry anymore. "Know what I love?" Snib's really working himself through the loincloth now, making wet sounds. "When humies break. When they stop pretendin' they don't want it. Start BEGGIN' for gobbo cock." *"Grok-splash in the pink-soft,* *Pump the ball-sludge deep-deep,* *Seven spurts for sparkly-shiny,* *Thirteen spurts, the cunt we keep."* He grins at me through the firelight. "Collar tells me things, y'know. Says yer cunt's all drippy. Happens to all the girls. Heh. All that struttin' around, pretendin' ye're still somebody." (hidden_gem:"My thighs press together involuntarily.","My thighs tighten together, trembling involuntarily.") (simple_option:"03 night conversation","'Why can't goblins just mate with their own women?'","'You're all going to die out, you realize that?'","'That's disgusting.'")

(pic:"ch03/night question.jpg")($play:"sex loop","handjob")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",3000,"forever",true)) (if:$choice is "'Why can't goblins just mate with their own women?'")["HARHARHAR!" He slaps his belly. "Gobbo cunts? Who needs 'em? Stuck-up bitches, all of 'em. Won't spread for a proper warrior, always yappin' about 'culture' and 'art' and thrack like that." He adjusts his cock, which has emerged fully from the loincloth. "Humie wombs are BETTER. Softer. Stretchier. Take gobbo cock like they were MADE for it." His yellow eyes gleam. "And they WERE! Storak made goblins to breed EVERYTHING!" He grins wider.](else-if:$choice is "'You're all going to die out, you realize that?'")["You're all going to die out." The words come flat. "You realize that?" "Shows what ye know!" Snib laughs, scratching his balls. "We ain't dyin'-we're UPGRADIN'! Every gobbo spawn from a humie womb comes out STRONGER. Bigger cocks. More seed. Better at breedin'." He grins wider.](else:)["That's disgusting," I whisper, but it comes out weak. "What's disgustin' is how WET ye are!" He cackles. "Can smell it from here! That sweet humie juice, all ready for gobbo cock!" He's wrong. He has to be wrong. But there's a warmth between my legs that-] *"Grunt-grunt, splurt-splurt,* *Humie breed-holes don't hurt,* *Seed goes in, spawn comes out,* *That's what Path is all about."* "Best part is," Snib continues, really working his cock now, the wet sounds filling the hut, "humie wombs CHANGE. After enough gobbo cum, they reshape inside. Seen it happen." The firelight throws shadows that make his cock look even more monstrous. "The Gobboree's soon," he says conversationally. "Big festival. Thousands of gobs. They'll all wanna see ye-the great Aldric with tits. Bet ye'll win the contest!" "What contest?" "Who can milk the most cock in an hour! HARHARHAR! That's how yer gonna make me RICH!" I stand abruptly, move toward my straw pile. My thighs slip against each other with each step. "Aw, tired already?" Snib yawns. "Tell me one thing first. SAY IT." "Say what?" "That yer wet." I freeze. The collar sits cold against my throat. (simple_option:"03 response","Deny it.","'It's just... this body.'")

($play:"song",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/2.png")($play:"sex loop","handjob")(pic:"ch03/night arousal.jpg")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2600,"forever",true)) (if:$choice is "Deny it.")["I'm NOT." The words come out strangled with rage. "HARHARHAR! Listen to that voice crack! All high and squeaky!" Snib grabs his cock, gives it a long stroke. "The collar don't lie, cow-tits. Says yer pussy's DROOLING. Says it clenches when ye look at me cock." "You're delusional." (if:(get_choice:"03 clean inside","'...Master Snib, will you... will you touch my...'"))["Am I?" He's practically CRYING with laughter now. "Then why'd ye MOAN when I spread them fat cheeks? Why'd that hero-cunt WINK at me when I looked right into it? HARHARHAR!" (change_stat:"heroism",-2)My face burns so hot I might combust. The memory slams back, bent over, his warty fingers pulling my ass apart, staring RIGHT into my exposed, dripping- "Could see EVERYTHING!" He's stroking faster now, precum already beading. "That pretty pink hole just GLISTENIN' with juice! Drippin' down yer thighs like a broken fountain! And when I blew on it-HARHAR-ye made that little squeak!" "Shut up-" "'Please Master Snib!'" He mimics my voice, high and breathy. "'Touch my pretty pussy!' Then when I looked closer, could see it CLENCHING! Like it was BEGGIN' fer gobbo-cock! Trying to suck it right outta the air!" The space between my legs throbs with each word. I can still feel where he LOOKED, where his breath hit my most sensitive-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",2200,"forever",true))](else:)["Am I?" He grins, scratching his balls with his free hand. "Then why's yer thighs pressed so tight? Why ye breathin' all heavy-like? Why's that sweet cunt-honey smell gettin' STRONGER?" (change_stat:"heroism",-1)My face burns. The space between my legs throbs with a pulse I can't control.]](else:)["It's..." My voice comes out small. "It's just this CURSED body. Just... meat responding to stimuli. It doesn't FUCKING mean anythi-" (if:(get_choice:"03 clean inside","'...Master Snib, will you... will you touch my...'"))["THERE it is!" Snib crows triumphantly. "KNEW it! Just like when I had me face between them wobbling cheeks! Remember? How ye SQUEAKED when I spread 'em wide?" (change_stat:"heroism",-3)I look away, ears burning with the memory. "Just meat, she says! HARHAR!" He's stroking faster now, the wet sounds filling the hut. "'Just me body, Master Snib! Don't mean nothin'!' But I SAW inside that cunt! Saw how PINK and WET it was! Like a fresh-split peach!" My pussy clenches at the words. At the memory of him pulling my cheeks apart, examining me like- "Could see yer little knobby all swollen and pokin' out!" He's cackling now. "And that HOLE! It was DROOLIN! Made little puddles in the sand when ye bent over!" "Stop-" "Opening and closing like a fish mouth!" The space between my legs pulses exactly like he's describing. I hate him. Hate this body. Hate everything.](else:)["THERE it is!" Snib crows triumphantly. "KNEW it! Ye're all slippery down there, ain't ye? Collar says yer pussy's been twitchin' all day!" I look away, ears burning. "Just meat, she says! HARHAR!" He's stroking faster now. "'Just me body, Master Snib! Don't mean nothin'!' Then a sennight later..." (change_stat:"heroism",-2)The space between my legs pulses. I hate him. Hate this body. Hate everything.]] "Sleep tight, hero-cunt!" Snib yawns massively, already settling into his furs. "Tomorrow's gonna be FUN. Got big plans for ye!" (if:(get_choice:"03 naked chores offer","'...fine.'") and (get_choice:"03 clean inside","'...Master Snib, will you... will you touch my...'"))["Might have ye spread that drippy snatch again! HARHARHAR! Give it a proper inspection this time! Count how many times it winks at me!"](else:)["What plans?"] "HARHARHAR! Wouldn't ye like to know!" His eyes are already closing. Within minutes he's snoring, that wet rattling that fills the hut. I wait. Count to one hundred. (pic:"ch03/snib sleeping.jpg") (simple_option:"03 remove armor","Then begin the process of getting this fucking armor off.")

($play:"sex loop","breathing level 3")(pic:"ch03/night remove bra.jpg","My tit drops with a wet *slap* against my ribs.")($play:"song","night arousal theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png") The clasps hide under my tits again, little metal conspirators. I have to lift each heavy globe, still can't think of them as MINE, to find the mechanisms. My fingers are shaking. From exhaustion. From the day. From- *Click.*(playwhenread:"unclasp",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.32),(a:150,0.20),(a:320,0.24),(a:480,0.14),(a:640,0.17),(a:790,0.09),(a:940,0.11),(a:1080,0.05),(a:1250,0)))) The first triangle springs free. My tit drops with a wet *slap* against my ribs. There's a line pressed into the flesh where the metal sat, angry red against pale skin. *Click.* (pic:"ch03/night nipples.jpg","The nipples, Flux's teeth, they're so HARD.") Both free now. They hang like overripe fruit, the nipples, Flux's teeth, they're so HARD. Have been for hours. Dark pink, almost purple, standing out like accusations. Outside, sand-owls call their three-note songs. A desert fox yips in the distance. The normal sounds of night that used to comfort me on watch. Now they just emphasize how fucking WRONG everything is. The thong next. I reach for the clasp at my spine, have to twist, everything jiggles. When I pull the metal away from between my legs- *Oh.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:400,0.12),(a:800,0.18),(a:1200,0.22),(a:1600,0.18),(a:2000,0.14),(a:2400,0.10),(a:2800,0.06),(a:3200,0)))) A string. A fucking STRING of... of me. Clear, viscous, stretching from the metal to my-to the smooth lips down there. It catches in the light of the coals, glistening obscene, refusing to break even as I pull the thong further away. Two feet. Three. Finally snaps with a wet sound that makes me want to die. (pic:"ch03/night remove panties.jpg","Clear, viscous, stretching from the metal to my-to the smooth lips down there.") (hidden_gem:"The desert wind through gaps in the walls feels like fingers on fevered skin.","The desert draft through door-gaps feels like fingers finding fevered flesh.") When my boots come off, my feet actually thank me, toes spreading in the dirt. But I catch myself in Whisperwind's blade, the reflection warped by the corruption but still clear enough. I don't look as dirty as I should. (pic:"ch03/night body.jpg","After a day of scrubbing floors, washing goblin cum-rags, hunting in the desert. My skin GLOWS.","right")That's the worst part. After a day of scrubbing floors, washing goblin cum-rags, hunting in the desert. My skin GLOWS. Luminous. Like I've been bathed in temple oils. My hair falls in waves that catch light like black silk. Even the sweat between my tits looks like dew on marble. My green eyes, the last sign of Aldric, stare back from a face too soft, too beautiful. Cheekbones high and delicate. Lips full and naturally flushed like I've been eating berries. But it's the expression that kills me. Lost. Confused.... HUNGRY. The smell hits when I spread my legs slightly to stand: that honeyed perfume my body makes, stronger now, mixing with something earthier. Musk. Female musk that even I recognize as arousal. The night jasmine note has gone indolic, rotting-sweet, broadcasting my state to anything with nostrils. My inner thighs are... SLICK. Like oil. When they touch, they slip past each other with no friction. I plant Whisperwind in the dirt, the inscription facing away. Use the blade like a mirror while I lower myself onto the straw. Everything's throbbing: the PULSE between my legs like a second heartbeat, my nipples aching, my belly clenching in rhythms I don't understand. Even my lips feel swollen, sensitive. Is this what women carry? This hollowness that DEMANDS? Or is the collar making it worse? Cleaning his floor on hands and knees. Tied to a post like livestock. Fed scraps of my own kill. Every humiliation adding to this building pressure that has nowhere to go except- My hand drifts to my belly. The skin's so soft. No hair, no muscle, just smooth warmth that trembles under my touch. Lower. The hipbones that flare so wide, the dip between them leading to- (pic:"ch03/night first touch.jpg","Just the lightest brush of fingertips against those smooth lips and every muscle from my calves to my shoulders fires at once.","left")I touch myself. Just the lightest brush of fingertips against those smooth lips and every muscle from my calves to my shoulders fires at once.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:80,0.10),(a:200,0.22),(a:350,0.30),(a:500,0.24),(a:700,0.18),(a:900,0.22),(a:1100,0.16),(a:1300,0.12),(a:1500,0.08),(a:1700,0)))) The sensation shoots up my spine, makes my tits bounce, forces a sound from my throat that I muffle with my other hand. In Whisperwind's reflection, I see myself: legs spread, one hand between them, the other over my mouth, tits heaving. The flush has spread from my cheeks down my neck, across my chest. Even my tits are flushed, pink-tinged like dawn. Another touch. This time finding that little nub at the top, the only thing I recognize, though it's different, more exposed, more- *"Nnngh-"* I bite my hand to keep quiet. Snib's still snoring but I can't. Can't make sounds like that. High, desperate, FEMININE sounds. (simple_option:"03 masturbate","Try to stop.","Continue.","matters")

($play:"sex loop","elise masturbating")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2400,"forever",true))(if:$choice is "Try to stop.")[(pic:"ch03/night wet.jpg","*Stop. You're Aldric. You're-*") My hand freezes between my legs. *Stop. You're Aldric. You're-* But my hips roll anyway. Just once. The motion makes my ass cheeks shift against each other, makes the straw scratch new places, makes my pussy lips, those puffy, swollen things, slide against my knuckle. "Nnnnh-" I bite down on my wrist. HARD. Teeth marks in soft flesh. But the pain doesn't override the heat. It just... adds to it.](else:)[There's no stopping this. (change_stat:"heroism",-1)My fingers find that little nub again, more exposed, practically THROBBING. When I press it, my whole lower body clenches. Thighs. Ass. That hungry mouth between my legs. (pic:"ch03/night masturbate initial.jpg","There's no stopping this. Not with how I feel.")] I need a better angle. Roll onto my side. No, tits stack wrong. Try my back. They fall into my armpits, the weight pulling at chest muscles. Finally settle on all fours, face in the straw, ass up like a bitch in heat. (hidden_gem:"The position makes everything worse. Better. Both.","The position makes everything worse, wickeder, wetter.") (pic:"ch03/night masturbate front begin.jpg","right","The position makes everything worse. Better. Both.")My knees spread wider without permission. The cool air hits wet places. So WET. Like my body's weeping for something. The emptiness between my legs is PRESENCE. A hollow ache that pulses with my heartbeat. Free hand goes to my tit. Grab it. SQUEEZE. The flesh overflows between my fingers, soft as bread dough but heavier. Find the nipple, hard as a river stone, and pinch. Lightning shoots straight to my cunt. *Cunt.* That's what it is. Not pussy, not sex, just... cunt. Hungry wet cunt that's making my thighs slip against each other. My knuckle presses harder against that swollen nub. Circles. The sensation builds like forge-fire, starting low and spreading. My hips start moving. Grinding. My pelvis rocks forward and back, that wide hipbone rotating, making my ass bounce, making everything between my legs DRAG across my hand. "Mmmmph-th- thrack-" Straw in my mouth. I'm biting the bedding to keep quiet. My hair falls around my face in black curtains, sticking to sweat. Sweat everywhere. Between my tits. Small of my back. That crease where thigh meets pelvis. I explore lower. Those lips down there are THICK. Swollen. When I spread them, Flux's teeth, they're so slippery, there's this heat that pours out. Temperature difference. My cunt's FEVER-hot inside. (pic:"ch03/night masturbate front.jpg","Those lips down there are THICK. Swollen.") The entrance. That's the worst part. Best part. That ring of muscle that keeps clenching on nothing, trying to GRAB something that isn't there. I press one fingertip against it and my whole body shudders. *Don't. Don't put anything inside. That's-* But my body WANTS. Every nerve screaming for fullness. For stretching. For- My knuckle slips. Just the tip of one finger slides in and I almost scream.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:150,0.28),(a:300,0.38),(a:500,0.32),(a:700,0.28),(a:900,0.32),(a:1100,0.26),(a:1300,0.22),(a:1600,0.18),"resumeAfter",true))) The walls inside are ridged, textured, alive. They GRIP my finger and PULL, drawing it deeper, and the pleasure radiates outward in rings like a stone dropped in still water. Nothing like the focused spike of a cock. This is tidal. I yank my finger out. Can't. Won't. That's too much like accepting this. Back to the outside. That little nub is so swollen now it's pushed out from its hood. Every brush makes my thighs shake. Makes my tits swing. Makes sounds escape that I've only heard from tavern whores through thin walls. "Uhh-uhh-p- please-" The pressure building in my belly, behind my pelvis, everywhere and nowhere. Every muscle from my jaw to my toes is tightening in sequence, winding toward something enormous. My ass is so high now. Presenting. *Stop thinking. Just-* Another circle of my knuckle and my cunt CLENCHES. Empty. So fucking empty. The muscles inside spasm, trying to milk something that should be there. The meat knows. The mind refuses. (pic:"ch03/night masturbate front 2.jpg","My thighs are soaked.") Fluid drips. Actual DRIPS onto the straw. The smell fills the air. My thighs are soaked. When they rub together, there's no friction, just slick flesh sliding. I'm making sounds now. Can't help it. High, desperate whimpers muffled by straw and my own wrist. The collar jingles with each rock of my hips. My tits swing heavy, nipples dragging across rough straw, sending more lightning to my cunt. So close to-something. Nothing like the focused explosion of male orgasm. This is building toward something that feels like it might turn me inside out.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","ramp","from",0.22,"to",0.42,"steps",12,"duration",3000,"curve","soft")) Might break whatever's left of Aldric and leave only- The pressure. The NEED. My cunt clutching at air. My whole body drawn tight as bowstring, ready to- (pic:"ch03/night pleasure.jpg","*Almost there. Almost-*") (simple_option:"03 interrupt","Suddenly...")

($play:"sex loop","snib masturbating elise breathing")(if:(get_choice:"03 grope offer","'...One hundred fifty?'") and (get_choice:"03 clean inside","'...Master Snib, will you... will you touch my...'") and (get_choice:"03 remove armor","Continue."))["Knew it." The voice cuts through my fog like ice water. Except my body doesn't freeze. My fingers are still BURIED knuckle-deep in this sopping mess between my legs, this hungry mouth that won't stop SUCKING at them, pulling them deeper. I should stop. Pull them out. Cover myself. But when I try, my pussy CLENCHES like it's afraid of being empty, and another wave of that crawling heat races up my spine. "HARHARHAR! Look at ye! Arse up like a bitch in season, fingers in yer own cunt, tits danglin' like-FUCK-like udders ready for milkin'!" I flip onto my back. Bad idea. TERRIBLE idea. My tits keep moving for three full seconds after I stop, sloshing into each other with a wet CLAP that makes me moan. Can't help it. The sound just RIPS out of me, high and broken, while my fingers are still-why are they still MOVING? (pic:"ch03/bad end/interrupt bad.jpg","The voice cuts through my fog like ice water.") *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK* That's him. Not me. HIM. Standing over me now, that purple-headed MONSTER swaying between his legs like a drooling war-club. Twelve inches of goblin breeding-meat, the head flared wide as my fist, angry purple-red like a bruise. The piss-slit keeps FLEXING, opening and closing like it's trying to speak, and each time it does, another rope of precum oozes out. ROPES. Thick as honey but clouded white-yellow, stretching down... down... one breaks and SPLATS on the straw near my face. The smell hits like a physical slap. Concentrated ball-rot mixed with something that makes my sinuses BURN but also makes my pussy, this TRAITOROUS FUCKING HOLE, squeeze my fingers so hard I gasp. "Can't stop, can ye?" Snib squats beside me, and his cock SWINGS with the motion, describing an arc that ends three inches from my face. THREE. INCHES. Close enough that I can see each ridge, each vein pulsing with goblin blood, the way the foreskin's pulled back just enough to show where smegma's collected in white crescents around the crown. "Been givin' in all day! Touched yer tits fer gold! Begged me to grab that fat arse!" "I'm not-nnngh-not begging for-" My hips roll. Like my body's trying to fuck my own hand. The motion makes my ass cheeks spread and close, makes my tits JUDDER, makes wet sounds that echo in the quiet hut. "Tell ye what, hero-cunt." His cock hangs like a gallows, pointed at my face. I can see everything: the veins thick as earthworms, the slit at the tip opening and closing like it's breathing... A pearl of *something* swells, stretches, threatens to drop directly onto my cheek. "Ye want gold, right? To buy yer freedom?" My eyes track that precum drop. Can't look away. It's getting bigger, going from pearl to grape, the strand connecting it to his cock stretching thinner. My mouth floods with spit that I have to swallow. Why is my mouth- "So let's make it interesting." His yellow eyes gleam. "Little wagers. Little games. Ye WIN, I knock gold off yer debt. Lots o' gold." *Why can't I THRAKKING STOP???* My fingers are still moving. Circling that swollen nub that sends lightning through my belly. The pressure's building again, that whole-body tension that threatens to turn me inside-out, and his STENCH, concentrated pheromone-musk that drowns my brain, just makes it worse. "Hmm. Ta start. Hundred gold off if ye can keep yer fingers in that smoothie while ye take THREE BIG SNIFFS of me cock!" He grins, showing all those broken teeth. "Bet ye can't! Cause ya can't even now." (hidden_gem:"My brain tries to focus through the fog of my own honey-scent mixing with his ball-reek.","My brain battles to break through the blended bouquet of my honey-heat and his ball-reek.") A hundred gold. That's... that's something. My brain tries to do math but keeps getting interrupted by the PULSE between my legs. Just breathing. I breathe on battlefields. Through smoke. Through blood. Through- (pic:"ch03/bad end/intimidation.jpg","'Unless ye're too SCARED?'","right")"Unless ye're too SCARED?" He shifts closer. His cock BOUNCES with the movement. The head's gone darker purple, almost black at the edges, and the whole thing THROBS in time with his heartbeat. I can SEE his heartbeat in the way the veins bulge and relax, bulge and relax. "I'm not-" My voice cracks. High. Feminine. WEAK. "Not scared of-" "Then DO IT!" He grabs his cock at the base, his hand barely fits around it, and ANGLES it toward my face. "Three big sniffs! While keepin' them fingers buried in that hungry cunt!" The head hovers there. Waiting. The piss-slit GAPES at me, showing pink inside, wet and wrong. A fresh bubble of precum wells up and I watch it grow in slow motion, watch the surface tension stretch, watch it catch the firelight and gleam before it DROPS- *splat* Right on my cheek. Hot. Hotter than should be possible. And thick enough that it doesn't run, just SITS there, cooling against my skin while my whole body goes rigid. "Just three big sniffs!" He flexes his cock and another drop of precum wells up. "Right from the source! But ye gotta keep fingerin' that hungry hole the whole time, or ye lose!" "You're... disgusting..." But my voice comes out breathy. High. My fingers are STILL moving inside me, these little circular motions I can't seem to get control of. "So ye forfeit? No gold?" He starts to pull back. "Wait." A hundred gold. That's... that's real progress. That's A HUNDREDTH of my freedom just for BREATHING. My pussy contracts HARD on my fingers at the thought, more juice running out, pooling under my ass in the straw. "I'll..." My throat is so dry. "I'll do it." "HARHARHAR! Knew ye would! Greedy little hero-slut!" "Remember-three big sniffs! And keep them fingers movin' in that sloppy cunt!" I force my fingers to keep their rhythm. The wet sounds are so loud in the quiet night, *squish-squish-squish*. My other hand's still at my tit, pinching the nipple between thumb and finger. When did I start doing that? (simple_option:"03 sniff","Take your first sniff.")](else:)[(pic:"ch03/night interrupt swirl.jpg","The voice cuts through my fog like ice water.") "Knew it." The voice cuts through my fog like ice water. My body freezes: hand still between my legs, ass still in the air, tits still swinging from momentum. Every muscle locks except the ones I can't control, the ones that keep CLENCHING, keep pulsing, keep begging for what was almost there. *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK* That sound. That wet, meaty sound of goblin hand on goblin cock. "HARHARHAR! Look at ye! Arse up like a bitch in season, fingers in yer own cunt, tits danglin' like-FUCK-like udders ready for milkin'!" A SOB breaks from my throat. I can HEAR how wet I am. Can hear my pussy making sounds as it clenches on nothing, little wet squelches that match the rhythm of- *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK* "Knew ye'd break tonight!" Snib's voice is thick, slurred with lust. "Said ye almost came just from me touchin' that fat arse!" "No-I wasn't-" My voice cracks high. "LIAR!" He laughs, and I hear him spit. I hear him coming closer, perching in the straw near me. "Yer smoothie's so wet it's SHININ'! Look at them lips-all fat and open! Look at that little button all swollen out!" (hidden_gem:"The smell hits-concentrated goblin musk flooding the hut.","The stench strikes-savage, suffocating goblin-musk saturating every surface.") My head swims. The pheromones from his precum mixing with my own scent, and my pussy TWEAKS harder, leaks more, the emptiness inside howling. "That's it! Smell that cock, hero-cunt! Smell what's gonna own ye!" (pic:"ch03/night snib masturbating.jpg") *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK* Faster now. Wetter. I can hear how much he's leaking, that thick precum splattering on his belly, on his furs, the smell getting STRONGER. "How would yer WIFE like seein' ye on all fours like this?" He's panting. Elara. Oh Flux, ELARA- "Her big strong husband, fingers in her own cunt, ass in the air, BEGGIN' for it!" "I'm not-I'm NOT-" But the denial dies because my hips just ROLLED again. Involuntary. Grinding my pussy against my knuckle because the pressure-the NEED- *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK* "Finish it!" His voice cracks. "Go on! Shove them fingers in! SHOW ME how the hero cums!" My hand shakes between my legs. Everything throbs. My clit, that's what it is, what I have to call it, pulses so hard I can feel each heartbeat in it. The ring at my entrance pulses open-shut, open-shut, each squeeze pulling inward like a swallowing throat. I'm so close. So fucking CLOSE. Just one more circle, and this will be over. "DO IT!" Snib roars. "Cum fer yer Master! Show me what that hero-cunt can DO!" The smell. His cock-reek filling the air, mixing with my honey-jasmine-musk, bypassing my brain entirely and speaking straight to my womb. My fingers twitch. So close to moving. So close to finishing what- (minigame:"03 try to stop",10,"Resist!")](set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","night arousal theme")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[($play:"sex loop",0)(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.28,"peakTo",0.40,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",600,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",50,"sustainMs",70,"releaseMs",90,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.28,"depthJitter",0.10))(playwhenread:"cum together",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:350,0.68),(a:700,0.62),(a:1050,0.75),(a:1400,0.70),(a:1750,0.82),(a:2100,0.76),(a:2450,0.88),(a:2800,0.82),(a:3150,0.94),(a:3500,0.88),(a:3850,1.0),(a:4200,0.92),(a:4550,0.96),(a:4900,0.85),(a:5250,0.88),(a:5600,0.78),(a:5950,0.80),(a:6300,0.68),(a:6650,0.70),(a:7000,0.58),(a:7400,0.48),(a:7800,0.38),(a:8200,0.28),(a:8700,0.18),(a:9200,0.10),(a:9800,0))))My fingers DIVE back between my legs without permission. "No-no I can't-" But I'm already rubbing, harder than before, my knuckle grinding against that swollen nub like I'm trying to start fire with flint. "HARHARHAR! KNEW IT! Can't stop, can ye?" Snib's voice cracks with excitement. "Look at me, cunt! LOOK AT ME!" I won't. I CAN'T. But the collar tightens, not choking, just a cold reminder. "Said LOOK!" My head turns. Through tear-blurred vision and black hair stuck to my face with sweat, I see it. His cock. That purple-headed monstrosity, fist-thick and ANGRY, the head flared like a war mushroom. His warty hand pumps it so fast it blurs. *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK* "NO-don't cum yet!" He barks. "Cum when I cum! Together! Like yer me WIFE!" The word hits like a crossbow bolt. A bead of precum forms at his slit. Clear. Thick. It swells, trembles, then drips in a long string that catches the firelight. Then another. *BLURT.* Thicker. White-tinged. *BLURT. BLURT.* Each one makes his cock twitch, makes the veins pulse darker. His back arches. His balls, those hairy apple-sized things, draw up tight. "Here it-FUCK-here it COMES!" I squeeze my eyes shut. Turn my face into the straw. I won't. I CAN'T watch him- (pic:"ch03/night masturbate snib cums.jpg","I hear (but don't see) the mess he's making...") (sperm:"SPLURRRRRT!",4,"splurt 2")The SOUND. Wet. Heavy. Something hitting the wall with force enough to make it audible across the room. My whole body jerks at the noise. (sperm:"SPLURT-SPLURT-GUSH-SPLOOORT!",3,"splurt 7")More. Each one accompanied by his guttural grunts. I keep my eyes SHUT, biting down on my wrist hard enough to break skin, but the sounds paint pictures I don't want: thick strands firing, splattering, running down- "GRAAAHHH! TAKE IT! FUCKIN'-TAKE-IT-ALL!" The SMELL hits. That concentrated smell flooding the hut, so thick it has TEXTURE in my nostrils. My mouth floods with saliva. My pussy- NO- But something in my brain just... BREAKS. My pussy DETONATES. (pic:"ch03/night first orgasm.jpg","My pussy DETONATES.") "AAAHHH-FUCK-FUCK-NOOO!" It starts in my clit, no, BEHIND it, deeper, some organ I didn't know existed. The first wave hits like a hammer to the spine. My cunt SEIZES, deep rings of muscle firing one after another, each one gripping tighter than the last, wringing down on nothing, STARVING for something to hold. Then the GUSH. A SPRAY, hitting my hand, my wrist, splattering the straw. I'm SQUIRTING, something I didn't know this body could do, clear fluid jetting out with each pulse. "HARHARHAR! LOOK AT HER GO! SQUIRTIN' LIKE A FOUNTAIN!" My whole body convulses. Back arching so hard my tits SLAP my chin. Ass cheeks clenching, releasing, CLAPPING together. It ROLLS. Wave after wave, each one forcing more out of me. *GUSH-splash-GUSH-splash* "The great Aldric! SQUIRTIN' HER BRAINS OUT! Wait'll I tell the Gobboree!" I'm SCREAMING now, high feminine wails that don't sound human. My legs kick out, heels drumming the floor. My free hand claws at the straw, tearing it, needing something to hold while my body tears itself apart with pleasure. "PLEASE-STOP-CAN'T-" But it won't stop. Each pulse makes my vision white out. Makes my tits bounce so hard they hurt. Makes more fluid GUSH from my cunt like I'm pissing myself but it's not piss, it's something sweeter, something that reeks of honey and shame. My pussy's making sounds. I can't think. Can only FEEL as my body betrays everything I was, turning me into this writhing, squirting THING on the floor. The orgasm goes deeper than physical. It's rewriting something fundamental, burning pathways into my brain that shouldn't exist. Finally, FINALLY, it starts to fade. But even the aftershocks make me squirt little spurts. My whole lower body fires in random jolts: hip flexors, deep belly muscles, all twitching like severed nerves. I collapse face-first into the soaked straw. The puddle under me is... extensive. Everything from my knees to my belly is drenched. The smell of my arousal so thick it's visible in the firelight. Tears run down my face, mixing with drool, with sweat. I came harder than I ever did as a man, and all he did was grunt across the room. I sob into the straw, my pussy still twitching, still drooling, still empty, while his cum runs down the wall and my dignity runs down my thighs. "From now on," Snib says, settling back into his furs, "when ye need to cum, ye ask. And ye do it where I can watch. That's an ORDER from yer master." I can't respond. Can't think. My brain feels like it's been turned inside out and wrung dry. Everything between my legs THROBS in time with my heartbeat. The puddle under me is cooling, getting sticky, reminding me with every breath what just happened. Aldric the Great just came like a bitch in heat from watching a goblin jack off. And deep in my belly, past the shame, past the horror- My womb squeezes once. Slow. Deliberate.](else:)[(pic:"ch03/night resist.jpg","My hand RIPS away from my cunt like it's been burned.")($play:"sex loop","breathing level 5")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",2000,"forever",true)) (change_stat:"heroism",3)My hand RIPS away from my cunt like it's been burned. "No-NO!" The word tears from my throat, half sob, half snarl. I curl into a ball, knees to chest, these fucking tits compress between my thighs, arms wrapped around myself like armor that doesn't exist anymore. "Awww, what's wrong?" Snib's voice drips mockery. "Too PROUD to cum? Too much of a HERO?" *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK* Faster. Wetter. The sound fills the hut. I squeeze my eyes shut, press my face into the straw, but the sounds come through anyway. His breathing getting ragged. The wet slap of his balls. The- (sperm:"SPLURRRRRT!",4,"splurt 2")The sound of impact. Wet. Heavy. Then more- "Dumb BITCH!" (pic:"ch03/night snib cums.jpg","The emptiness between my legs feels like starvation, like dying of thirst while hearing water.") (sperm:"SPLURT-SPLURT-GUSH!",4,"splurt 7")His grunts echo off the walls. The smell hits seconds later, concentrated musk so thick my mouth waters against my will. My pussy THROBS, a deep, wounded pulse, each beat hollowing me out further. Starvation. Thirst with water pouring just out of reach. (hidden_gem:"I bite down on my own arm to keep from screaming.","I bite brutally on my bicep to bar any banshee-screaming.") Because my cunt is SCREAMING. The clit, yes, but deeper: the walls inside ripple and grip and ripple again, wringing themselves out, trying to finish what I started. My thighs are so slick they slide against each other. The pressure in my belly feels like it might split me open. "From now on," Snib wheezes through his post-orgasm high, "ye cum when I SAY. IF I say. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next sennight. Maybe NEVER." A sob escapes. An actual sob because I can feel it: the orgasm that was RIGHT THERE, retreating like a tide going out, leaving me empty and RAW. "And when ye DO get to cum-if ye're VERY good-it'll be on my terms. While I tell ye EXACTLY how." I'm shaking. Full-body trembles that make everything jiggle. From NEED, not cold. From the horrible realization that my body is already addicted to something I haven't even done. I curl tighter, trying to ignore the pulse between my legs, the wetness that won't stop, the empty ACHE that feels like dying. My clit throbs so hard it hurts. My nipples scrape against my arms, sending little shocks straight to my cunt. This is torture. The straw scratches my oversensitive skin. Every shift makes my thighs slide together, makes my pussy clench, makes the need WORSE. I'm going to lie here all night like this. Feeling everything. Unable to stop it. Unable to finish it. "One day," Snib yawns, already drifting off, "ye'll BEG me. Properly." His snores fill the hut within minutes. I lie there shaking, my pussy drooling onto the straw, the smell of my own cunt mixing with his cum-stench, creating something that makes my head spin. My clit throbs. My nipples ache. My womb wants. And I can't do anything about it.] (simple_option:"04 next morning","Sleep...")

(playwhenread:"elise peeing",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:400,0.04),(a:800,0.08),(a:1000,0.06),(a:1200,0.10),(a:1500,0.04),(a:1800,0.08),(a:2000,0.12),(a:2200,0.14),(a:2500,0.12),(a:2800,0.14),(a:3000,0.12),(a:3400,0.14),(a:3800,0.12),(a:4200,0.10),(a:4600,0.14),(a:5000,0.10),(a:5400,0.08),(a:5800,0.12),(a:6200,0.08),(a:6600,0.06),(a:7000,0.08),(a:7400,0.04),(a:7800,0.06),(a:8000,0))))($play:"song","ridden music")($play:"ambience","desert indoors")(pic:"ch03/pee bucket.jpg","left")*Just focus. Just... muscles. Release.* The pressure's unbearable now. I close my eyes, try to find the muscles. Where ARE they? Everything's different, arranged wrong, nothing works the way I remember. I push, but nothing. Relax, but nothing. My thighs burn from the squat. The bucket rim presses cold against the backs of my thighs. Everything's exposed: ass out, pussy hanging over empty air, tits weighing me forward. The thong pulled aside so roughly the metal digs into one ass cheek. *Come on. Just-* A few drops finally escape. Hot. Spattering into the bucket with sounds so quiet they're barely there. Leaking. More drops. Dribbling. I can't CONTROL it. Can't aim, can't direct, can't do anything but crouch here and hope gravity does the work. The sound is nothing like- Nothing like what I'm used to. What I remember. That confident rush, that ability to write your name in snow if you wanted, to extinguish campfires... Finally something like a stream starts. Thin. Making soft spattering sounds in the bucket. It trickles forward, pools, I have to shift my weight back or it'll- "HARHARHAR!" I open my eyes. Snib's standing right there. Right between my spread thighs. Yellow eyes locked on mine. "That's adorable," he says, reaching down to loosen his loincloth. "That little dribble." "Don't-" My stream stops from the tension. "Don't watch me-" "I'm gonna SHOW ye how it's done." His loincloth drops. That massive purple cock flops out, already thickening just from watching me squat here. He grabs it with both hands, needs both hands to aim that fucking battering ram, and steps closer. I try to move back but the leash snaps taut. Try to close my legs but the bucket's there. Try to stand but my calves are locked, burning. I'm TRAPPED in this squat while he positions his cock directly between my spread thighs. "This-" He grabs it with one warty hand, aims it down between my thighs, "-is how a GOBBO pisses, bitch."(playwhenread:"snib peeing",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:500,0.04),(a:1000,0.06),(a:1500,0.08),(a:2000,0.10),(a:2500,0.12),(a:3000,0.14),(a:3500,0.18),(a:3750,0.35),(a:4000,0.42),(a:4500,0.45),(a:5000,0.44),(a:5500,0.46),(a:6000,0.44),(a:6500,0.45),(a:7000,0.44),(a:7500,0.46),(a:8000,0.44),(a:8500,0.45),(a:9000,0.44),(a:9500,0.46),(a:10000,0.44),(a:10500,0.42),(a:11000,0.44),(a:11500,0.42),(a:12000,0.44),(a:12500,0.42),(a:13000,0.40),(a:13500,0.38),(a:14000,0.36),(a:14500,0.32),(a:15000,0.28),(a:15500,0.22),(a:16000,0.16),(a:16500,0.10),(a:17000,0.06),(a:17200,0.12),(a:17400,0.06),(a:17600,0.10),(a:17800,0.04),(a:18000,0)))) (pic:"ch03/pee snib.jpg","right","'This is how a GOBBO pisses, bitch!'")A ROAR. His piss hammers into the bucket with such force I hear the metal RING. Finger-thick. Directed. CONTROLLED. The sound drowns out everything: a torrent, a waterfall, a fucking DELUGE of hot goblin piss that makes my soft trickle seem like nothing. He's HOSING the bucket. I watch the yellow stream arc between my thighs, so close I feel the heat radiating, watch it POUND the water I barely managed to trickle out. His stream is so powerful it's SPLASHING, droplets hitting my inner thighs, my pussy, mixing with the weak flow that's still leaking from me. "Look at the DIFFERENCE!" He's grinning, those yellow eyes boring into mine. "Yer little girl-piddle versus a REAL stream!" I'm frozen. Can't move. The leash keeps me here, squatting, while he stands OVER me, his cock jutting between my spread thighs, pissing with the force of a warhorse. Steam coils up between my legs, carrying that concentrated reek, sharp, animal, MALE. My nostrils flare. My head swims. The bucket's nearly full. But he's not stopping. He shifts his aim slightly, the stream angles, splashes- Hot droplets hit my inner thighs.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.24),(a:60,0.10),(a:400,0.22),(a:460,0.08),(a:800,0.26),(a:860,0.10),(a:1200,0),"resumeAfter",true))) "OOP! Clumsy me!" He grins, deliberately letting his stream waver, spattering my skin. "Hard to aim when yer packing this much meat!" I flinch but can't move. The leash. The position. I'm LOCKED here while he marks territory, marks ME, with casual flicks of that purple head. His stream finally weakens. But even THAT is stronger than my entire piss. It hammers down for another ten seconds, then drops to a steady pour, then finally a few spurts. He shakes. Droplets fly. "There!" He tucks himself back into his loincloth. "That's how it's DONE! Ye got any left in ye, or did watching a REAL pisser make ye forget how?" My face burns so hot I might combust. The comparison-the CONTRAST- I was a man. I could piss standing. Could aim. Could- "Nothin' to say?" He circles behind me, slaps my ass.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.52),(a:80,0.35),(a:200,0.22),(a:380,0.14),(a:560,0.08),(a:740,0)))) "Course not. What's there to say? Ye piss like a girl cause ye ARE one! And girls don't piss-they LEAK!" (change_stat:"heroism",-2)My eyes burn. Not from ammonia fumes. From the truth of it. (simple_option:"03 ugh","But worse-much worse-is what happens next.")

(pic:"ch03/realization.jpg","It does disgust me. But underneath the disgust, my body floods with heat.") The bucket sits there between my feet, half-full of mixed piss, his powerful yellow torrent diluting my pathetic trickle. The comparison guts me. And between my hips, in the soft meat I can't control, something tightens. Coils. A fist clenching in reverse. I pull the metal thong back into place with shaking fingers. It saws back between my cheeks, warm now. Slick with something thicker than sweat.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2600,"forever",true)) *No.* I stand slowly. My legs tremble, and it's not from the squat. An ache pools low in my belly and spills downward like warm honey. My nipples peak so hard they hurt against the metal triangles, scraping with each breath. I reach for the bucket handle. Have to carry his piss out. His PISS. This little green nothing, sword-fodder, vermin I've killed by the hundred, and here I am hauling his waste like a chambermaid. (hidden_gem:"It does disgust me. But underneath the disgust, my body floods with heat.","It does disgust me. But buried beneath, my body blazes and burns with base, biological heat.") The bucket has HEFT. His torrent was so heavy, so forceful, it sloshes like real cargo. The yellow swirls through my clear trickle. Conquered it. Marked it. Made it his.(playwhenread:"breathing level 3") My scalp prickles. That's anger. Has to be. When I turn toward the door, my thighs slip against each other. Slick. Wet where I wasn't wet before. My cunt, my CUNT, is responding like a bitch in heat. Like watching a male mark his territory with that hose between his legs rewired something fundamental in my pelvis. *Think about Elara.* Picturing my wife makes it worse. Elara never saw me squat and dribble. Never saw me out-pissed by something she'd scrape off her boot. The shame feeds the heat. Twists that coil in my pelvis tighter. Each step toward the door, the bucket sloshes. His piss. I'm carrying goblin piss while my pussy- *Stop.* I can't stop it. This plush, yielding body and its plush, yielding responses. Watching him stand there with his cock swinging free, pissing like he owned the earth. It made me feel FEMALE down to the marrow. Conquered without a single touch. My body knew before my mind did. The warmth, the tightness, the ache: arousal. Pure animal arousal, rising from being out-maled by something I used to kill for sport. Every soft place in this body registers it. My breath shortens. My skin feels too tight. I squeeze my thighs together to kill the feeling and it gets WORSE. Snib's already waddle-strutting toward his furs, scratching his ass. Oblivious. Or maybe not. Maybe he knows exactly what that display does to cursed female biology: these soft, weak, dripping responses I can't fight, can only carry his piss bucket and pretend I'm not- The word arrives like a slap: *wet.* "Ye done waterworks?" He plops down, belly full from the meal I cooked. "Good. Cause I'm still HUNGRY. That plant-mush ye made? Fills the belly but don't SATISFY, ye know?" He makes exaggerated chewing motions, lips smacking. "Need MEAT. Real meat. Something that bleeds proper when ye bite into it." His yellow eyes fix on me. "Yer gonna hunt." I stare at him. "Hunt. With what?" "With whatever ye MAKE, stupid cow!" He waves dismissively at the desert beyond his hut. "Desert's full of creatures if ye got eyes. Lizards, hares, maybe even a fat quail if yer lucky!" "I need-" The words taste like defeat. "I need a bow. Arrows." "So MAKE one!" He picks his teeth with a fingernail. "Bendy stick, some string, pointy sticks fer arrows. How hard can it be fer a mighty HERO?" He drags out the last word mockingly. My jaw clenches. "It's almost sunset. I need-" "Then MOVE that jiggly arse!" He kicks his foot in my direction. "I want meat by dark! And make it GOOD meat, not some scrawny rat!" I look around his compound. The dead olive tree might have branches flexible enough. Leather scraps from his pile of refuse could work as string if I braid them. Arrows... fuck, arrows will be harder. The setting sun paints everything rust-red. Desert hunting at dusk. In this body. In these fucking heels. "Well?" Snib's watching me, grinning. "What ye waitin' fer? Permission to BREATHE? Move them udders!" (simple_option:"03 make bow","Search for materials.")

Grimacing as I hang the loincloths up to dry, the repugnant smell still etched in my nostrils, I become a spectacle under Snib's watch. My hefty breasts bouncing and coated in the splashback, my nubile butt bobbling with every move, makes Snib chuckle ominously. "Elise my sweet, why don't ye make yerself useful," Snib laughs, sitting back against the hut. His putrid goblin dick, freed from that foul loincloth, stood proud and throbbing in the morning air. His words crush my hope for solace. He leers at me, a grotesque smile of crude suggestion appearing on his lips. "Look at this," he croaks, tapping his fat goblin schlong. "It's aching, swollen, like a bad tooth." Bile rises. But so does something else: a calculating spark. "See,(unless:(get_choice:"03 handy react","No way!"))[ I was jokin' about the 10 gold before,]" Snib continues, ignoring my violated expressions, "you give me a nice handjob while I lay here, and I'll knock off **500 gold** from the grand total." His hideous grin broadens at the sight of my mortified face, my stormy eyes sparkling with both resentment and reluctant consideration. Vile. But the math is real. "You'd get practice with this big fella," Snib adds as an afterthought, giving his monstrous schlong a playful waggle. A gag threatens to spill from my throat as the veiny beast salutes me ominously. It takes every ounce of control to suppress it. Though the precious gold on offer is not a favor, but more of a reprieve from the tedious debt, his twisted proposal toys with my sanity. (hidden_gem:"Yet I am no fool. Even in this torturous servitude, I understand Snib's filthy game. He hopes to turn my desperation into compliance, trading gold for my dignity. ","Yet, not nescient am I. Navigating this nettlesome nightmare, I note neatly the nauseating nuances of Snib's squalid sport. He hungers to harness my hardship into heedfulness, haggling honor for his heinous heaps of gold.") He could just use the collar. Force me. The fact that he doesn't means something worse: he wants me to choose it. Wants to watch my pride rot from the inside. My hand on that thing. My fingers wrapped around goblin cock-meat. The collar tightens at my throat like it heard the thought and approved. (simple_option:"03 next cleaning","Back to the hut...")

Back at the hovel. The door creaks open and the stench hits like a wall: rancid grease and old semen and something dead underneath it all. Snib jerks my leash. "Start cleaning up this mess, cow." He ties my leash to a pole in the middle of the hut. Enough slack to shuffle around. Not enough to forget what I am. The chain clinks when I test it, a cold little song. Bones from things I can't identify. Rotten food in blackened shreds. And semen, dried, crusted, stinking, on every surface like he's been painting the walls with it. My stomach turns over. Elara's garden. The lavender and rosemary. Her hands in the soil, dirt under her nails, sunlight catching the copper in her hair. I should be home with her right now. Instead I'm on a goblin's leash, ankle-deep in his filth. I bend to scoop up scattered bones, my back arching, these absurd tits swinging free beneath me. Everything jiggles. Tits, ass, thighs. This body has no still parts. Every movement is a performance I never auditioned for. "Just look at those jiggling udders sway!" Snib crows. "Shake 'em more!" I try to ignore him. He strokes that monstrous cock with one hand, half-asleep, lazy ropes of precum oozing from the tip while he yawns. The casual ownership of it: cock in hand, slave on leash, everything right in his world. Each swing of my tits burns hotter than the last, the metal bikini scraping raw lines into flesh that bruises if you breathe on it. Elara used to fuss over every scratch I brought home from battle. Now I'm dressed in metal scraps and shame, sweeping a goblin's cum-den on my hands and knees. Then I see Whisperwind. My sword. Lying in the middle of the floor, half-buried under a thick crust of dried goblin cum. The mass is yellow-white, cracked at the edges but still glistening where it's thickest, still stinking of virility, of conquest. The stench fogs my brain. I want air. I want sky. I want to be anywhere but here on my knees in a cum-stinking hovel. My eyes sting. I can't touch it. Can't scrape goblin sperm off the blade that slew the Wyrm of Ash-Kethel. Not yet. Not today. "Get a move on, Elise!” Snib barks, breaking me from my reverie. “Me eyes ain't pleased yet. Make sure you get every spot(unless:(get_choice:"03 handy react","No way!"))[, or it's another spankin']!" (display:"divider") The day crawls on. Filth in every direction. And somewhere behind me, Snib snickering at the view. My weapons: a twig broom, a tin bucket, and a rag that smells like it was used to wipe an ass. Aldric the Great would have burned this hovel to the ground. Elise gets to scrub it on her knees. Sweeping raises a dust cloud that chokes the hut. Each stroke jolts through my arms and straight into my chest, these massive tits bouncing in the metal bra like they're trying to escape. Heavy, warm, swaying with their own momentum while the rest of me shivers in the open air. I feel every ounce of them. Every jiggle. The weight pulls at my spine and reminds me what I'm carrying. Snib's beady eyes track each bounce like a cat watching a pendulum. That wet frog-grin stretches wider. I keep sweeping. If I stop, he wins something. I don't know what, but I can feel it. Hours pass. Bones, rags, crushed tablets scratched with goblin script I can't read. I throw it all out and don't think about what any of it means. Snib tosses me a crude knife and points at a pile of dead things he scavenged. Lunch duty. The carcass on top looks like the field rabbits from back home: same russet fur, same long ears. Something twinges in my chest as I slice it open. Elara taught me to dress a rabbit. Summer afternoon, her hands guiding mine, laughing when I nicked my thumb. The memory hits like a knife as I spit the meat over the fire pit outside. Smoke rises. My stomach growls. Even grief can't kill hunger. I serve him on a dusted wooden plate. He tears into the meat, grunting approval, and some sick part of me feels a flash of pride before his belch kills it, a wet, rolling eruption that sprays flecks of half-chewed rabbit across the table. "Not bad fer cow-tits," he says, mouth full. I look away and pretend I'm somewhere else. The afternoon grinds on. More scrubbing, more stink, more of Snib's belch-fog hanging in the air like a curse. But a sharper problem is building: my bladder, full to bursting, screaming for relief. The leash is tied to its ring. Snib's snoring. The hut's entrance might as well be in another kingdom. (simple_option:"03 need to pee","You need to pee...")

"Master," I call out as delicately as my enraged spirit allows me to. "Master, I need to pee." Snib opens one bulbous eye, regards me with a gleam of amusement, his scaly green lips curling in a grotesque smile. "Then pee," he grunts, a soft chuckle in his repulsive voice. "I need to go outside," I say, hating how small my voice comes out. "No need, pet." His laughter echoes in the dismal hut. He points a gnarled finger towards a corner where a bucket of forgotten filth rests. "There's yer jakes." My face flushes, burning with the shame he’s just dropped on me. So this is the next level of my humiliation as his pet. I feel the protest bubble up, almost slip past my lips but catch it in time. Pointless. I've learned the game well enough; it’s best to shut up and get with it, endure and survive. As I walk towards the rancid, rusty bucket, one careful step at a time on my high metal heels, I feel Snib's piercing gaze etch into my jiggling ass and thick thighs. I bite down hard against the shame that rises with each tiny, humming vibration of his disgusting laughter that hangs in the air. "Squat right over it, cow. Ye don't wanna be missin' the target," he hoots, tugging on the leash, the wicked runes of the collar biting into my tender skin. (hidden_gem:"The sound of him laughing is like nails on a chalkboard as I head for the bucket.","His hilarity hammers hard, harsh as hails hitting home, as I hasten to the horrid holder.") My face burns. Heart hammering. Squatting in these heels is a balancing act, Snib keeps tugging the leash just to watch me wobble, but I hold steady, eyes fixed on the bucket's filthy rim. "Ah, look at those fat, plump cheeks," he breathes, drinking in every inch of exposed ass and wobbling thigh. "Milky tits hangin' like ripe melons, wobblin' with every breath. Gettin' a good show here, slave." I grit my teeth. Swallow bile. One hand cups my right breast to keep it from swinging, the weight of it steadies me, grotesquely. Cold tin presses against my bare ass and I flinch, thighs quivering. "Get on with it, 'cow tits,' don't keep your Master waiting," he barks, tugging the leash to make me yelp. I inhale deeply, summon my composure, and attempt to surrender to the natural call. I reckon this shouldn't be that hard, just... well, different. But it's not coming. The spectacle is too much: the unfamiliar body, the bondage, the perverse master. My cheeks burn brighter at Snib's echoing sniggers. Any sense of privacy shattered by his lewd remarks. “Make sure y'don't miss the bucket and piss all over the floor. Don't want my cow making a mess now, do I?" (simple_option:"03 pee","Focus!")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/6.png")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"sex loop","breathing level 4")(pic:"ch03/bad end/rub face.jpg","right")The musk has TEXTURE. Thick enough to taste. That fungal underground smell of things that grow in the dark. But underneath... underneath there's something that makes my nipples THROB. Makes my pussy SUCK so hard on my fingers that for a second I can't pull them back to thrust again. (playwhenread:"sniff 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.15),(a:300,0.25),(a:600,0.32),(a:1000,0.28),(a:1400,0.22),(a:1800,0.16),(a:2200,0.12),(a:2600,0.08),(a:3000,0))))"One!" Snib counts gleefully. "Look at that smoothie GRIP! Like it's trying to keep yer fingers forever!" I can feel it my cunt walls RIPPLING, undulating, trying to pull my fingers DEEPER. More fluid leaks out. It runs down the crack of my ass, pools warm in my asshole. "Second sniff! Bigger!" I don't want to. Hundred gold. Progress to freedom. That's all this is. That's- I inhale deeper.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:300,0.30),(a:600,0.40),(a:1000,0.36),(a:1400,0.30),(a:1800,0.24),(a:2200,0.18),(a:2600,0.14),(a:3000,0.10)))) (change_stat:"heroism",-5)This time the smell punches straight through to my brain-stem. Bypasses thought. Gives orders directly to the meat. My hips buck up HARD, driving my fingers deep as they'll go. My thumb brushes my clit, that swollen thing that's pushed out from its hood, and lightning shoots through my pelvis. "Nnnnngh!" The moan tears out before I can stop it. "TWO! Listen to that hero-cunt SING! One more, cow-tits! One more and ye win!" His cock twitches. The head FLEXES. The slit opens wider and a thick rope of precum oozes out, hanging like a stalactite just inches from my nose. The strand stretches down, down, swaying with his breathing. If I move at all, it'll touch my face. My fingers are moving faster now. They just ARE. Three fingers pumping in and out of my sopping cunt, the heel of my hand grinding against my clit with each thrust. My other hand's abandoned my tit to grip the straw, trying to anchor myself, but my hips keep rolling, FUCKING my own hand. "Third sniff! Make it the biggest! Really TASTE it!" (pic:"ch03/bad end/sniff.jpg","Tactical sacrifice. Hundred gold. Just air. Just breathing.") *Tactical sacrifice. Hundred gold. Just air. Just breathing. Ignore how your pussy is CLENCHING. Ignore the heat building in your belly. Ignore-* I inhale so deep my tits rise with it. The smell FLOODS me through my nose, my mouth, my throat, like it's seeping through mucous membranes directly into my blood.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:300,0.35),(a:600,0.45),(a:900,0.52),(a:1200,0.48),(a:1500,0.52),(a:1800,0.46),(a:2200,0.40),(a:2600,0.34),(a:3200,0.28),(a:3800,0.22),(a:4500,0.16),(a:5500,0.10),(a:6500,0.06),(a:7500,0)))) It's EVERYTHING: rot and musk and ball-sweat and the raw concentrated WRONGNESS of goblin pheromones hitting my blood like poison. My cunt EXPLODES. A PREPARATION. Every muscle from entrance to cervix goes haywire, rippling in waves, my fingers just along for the ride. Juice floods out so fast it sounds like I'm pissing myself, splattering the straw. "THREE! YE DID IT!" Snib crows, his cock bobbing with his excitement. That hanging rope of precum finally breaks, splattering across my lips. I taste it before I can react: salt and rot and something thick as paste. "That's a hundred gold off!" (change_stat:"gold",100)But he's not pulling away. If anything, he's settling in more comfortably. "Course..." His voice gets sly. "That was easy. Bet ye couldn't do something harder. Something worth... MORE gold..." My fingers are STILL moving in my cunt. Still pumping. I try to stop but the emptiness is worse than the shame. My brain tries to focus through the fog of pheromones. More gold. More progress. I could be free faster. I could- "Two hundred says ye can't stare at me piss-slit for ten heartbeats without blinkin'! Just LOOK, that's all! Easy!" (simple_option:"03 watch","Keep earning gold!","Wait, this has gone too far...")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","night arousal theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")(pic:"ch03/bad end/close up.jpg","left")($play:"sex loop","breathing level 5")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2200,"forever",true))(if:$choice is "Wait, this has gone too far...")["W-wait. No. This-this has gone too far." The words tumble out like broken teeth, my voice high and cracking. I yank my fingers from my cunt, they come away with strings of wetness that stretch and snap, and scramble backward in the straw. My tits LURCH with the motion, slapping together wetly. "What-can't handle more of me magnificent cock?" Snib cackles, still gripping that purple monster. Another rope of precum oozes out, pools on the floor where I was just lying. "I'm not-I just-" My brain feels wrapped in wet wool. Those pheromones, that concentrated REEK, it's still coating the inside of my sinuses. Making my thoughts skip like stones on water. "I need to sleep. Need to-" "HARHARHAR! The mighty hero! Reduced to a cock-sniffer!" He's delighted, his yellow eyes gleaming. "Three whiffs of gobbo-meat and look at ye-shaking like a virgin on her wedding night!" (hidden_gem:"I curl into myself, pulling my knees to my chest, trying to cover these obscene tits.","I curl and coil into myself, crushing my knees to my chest, concealing these contemptible tits.") My cheeks could ignite tinder. Cock-sniffer. That's what I am now. I SNIFFED his disgusting goblin cock for gold. Breathed it in like temple incense while my pussy drooled into the straw. "Sweet dreams, cow-tits!" Snib waddles back to his furs, cock still swinging, still dripping. "Dream about what ye just did! How ye put yer pretty nose RIGHT up to me piss-slit!" I squeeze my eyes shut but that just makes it WORSE. Makes me see it again: that purple head inches from my face, the slit opening and closing like a mouth, the way my whole body RESPONDED to that stench... *Eon, keeper of what was, forgive me. I was Aldric. I was a hero. Now I'm-* The prayer fragments in my mind. Can't even finish it. What would I say? "Forgive me for sniffing goblin cock while fingering myself"? The Ephemerals probably stopped listening the moment my nose got within a foot of that thing. I pull the rough straw over myself, trying to make some kind of nest, some barrier between me and what just happened. I can still SMELL him. It's in my hair, my skin, soaked into me. My cunt, this greedy, mutinous hole, still throbs in time with my heartbeat. Snib's snores rattle the hut. Peaceful. Content. While I lie here with his precum drying on my cheek, his ball-stench lodged in my sinuses, the image of that gaping slit branded onto the inside of my eyelids. The darkness presses in. My heartbeat won't slow. Every time I close my eyes, I see that cock-slit gaping at me, drooling its corruption, and my mouth floods with spit I have to swallow. *I am Aldric. I am-* But the words taste like lies. Aldric never sniffed cock. Aldric never felt his pussy clench at the smell of goblin balls. Aldric is becoming something else. Something that earns gold on her knees, nose pressed to monster-meat. (pic:"ch03/bad end/try to sleep.jpg") (simple_option:"04 next morning","Next morning...")](else:)[*Just looking. Not touching. I've studied enemy weapons before battle. This is the same. This is-* "Gotta look RIGHT at the tip. Where it kisses!" Snib grips his shaft, the meat BULGES between his warty fingers, and AIMS like he's sighting down a crossbow. The head looms three inches from my eyes. This close, I can see EVERYTHING.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:800,0.22),(a:1600,0.18),(a:2400,0.24),(a:3200,0.20),(a:4000,0.26),(a:4800,0.22),(a:5600,0.28),(a:6400,0.24),(a:7200,0.32),(a:8000,0.26),(a:8800,0.36),(a:9600,0.30),(a:10400,0.40),(a:11200,0.34),(a:12000,0.44),(a:12800,0.38),(a:13600,0.48),(a:14400,0.42),(a:15200,0.52)))) The glans is mottled, darker at the corona where it flares out from the shaft, the ridge thick as rope. The surface has this... sponginess. Textured with tiny bumps that pulse with blood flow. And the slit- (hidden_gem:"It's not a slit. It's a MOUTH.","It's not a slit. It's a MAW, a moist, menacing mouth.") Vertical. Darker pink inside, edges glistening with precum pooled in the corners like drool. And it's MOVING. Flexing. Opening wider, closing, wider again, each time flashing more of that wet pink tunnel burrowing DOWN into- "ONE!" Snib shouts. My eyes water but I don't blink. Can't lose. "Look how it's TALKIN' to ye!" (change_stat:"heroism",-5)The slit DILATES, showing slick inner walls. And something's moving in there. Crawling UP the pipe. "TWO! It wants ta give ye a kiss! See?" He flexes. The whole head SWELLS, going from plum to apple-sized, and the slit opens so wide I can see. Eon's bones, I can see DOWN into him. Into the cum-pipe. There's something white moving up there, thick as porridge, CRAWLING upward- "THREE!" A bubble of PRECUM forms. It swells at the opening like a frog's throat, glossy and white-yellow. Growing. The surface tension stretches, catching firelight, and I can see my own reflection in it: my face, wide-eyed, mouth open, staring at- "FOUR! It's blowin' ye a kiss!" The bubble POPS, quietly releasing into a thick coating that glazes the entire head. But more's already forming. The slit gapes again and this time a proper ROPE oozes out, thick as my smallest finger, dangling and swaying- "FIVE! Hah, look at it DROOL fer ye!" The strand stretches down, getting longer, swaying with his breathing. It's going to touch my face. Physics says it has to. Gravity plus length equals- I realize my fingers are still in my cunt. Still moving. The rhythm matches my heartbeat which matches the THROB of his cock which matches- "SIX! See them veins?" I see them. Green-tinged under goblin skin, thick as quill stems, creating a roadmap of blood flow. One particularly fat vein runs along the underside, pulsing so hard I can SEE his pulse. Watch the blood pump through. Watch how it makes the head SWELL with each beat. "SEVEN! Almost there, hero!" The precum rope SWINGS. Almost touches my cheek. I tilt my head, just slightly, but keep my eyes locked on that dilating slit. It's getting WORSE. Or better. Or, my brain can't decide. The opening's staying wider now, like it's too aroused to close properly. I can see the walls inside GLISTENING, see how they're ribbed, see how deep it goes before darkness swallows the view- "EIGHT! It REALLY likes ye!" Something else is coming. I can SEE it traveling up. A thicker glob, pushing the walls wider as it rises. The whole cockhead FLEXES to accommodate it. The slit spreads obscenely wide and- "NINE!" -a GUSH. An actual SPURT of precum arcs through the air. I feel the wind of it passing my cheek, hear it SPLAT into the straw behind my head. The smell intensifies, concentrated rot that makes my pussy SQUEEZE so hard my fingers go numb. "TEN! YE DID IT!" I blink finally and tears stream down. My eyes BURN. But worse, my pussy just FLOODED. Like watching his cock's mouth gape and drool and SPIT at me translated directly to arousal. My fingers are soaked past the knuckle. (change_stat:"snib",1)(change_stat:"gold",200)"Two hundred gold off!" Snib announces. The head of his cock bobs with his breathing, that slit still winking at me, still drooling. "That's three hundred total! At this rate ye'll be free in no time!" *Three hundred. That's real. That's progress. I'm not just lying here fingering myself for nothing. This is TACTICAL. I'm taking advantage of this pathetic little creature and his out-of-control lust.* "Course..." His voice goes sly. "That was just lookin'. Bet ye couldn't actually DO somethin'. Like... count how many finger-widths long me cock is. Worth... three hundred more!" Six hundred gold total, that's more than half a thousand, that's REAL progress toward- "But ye gotta use YER fingers to measure." He waggles his eyebrows. "Actually touch it proper. Count from base to tip. What's wrong? Scared of a little cock-countin'?" (simple_option:"03 measure","Just measure it quickly...","No, I need to stop this...")]

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","night arousal theme")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.16,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2000,"forever",true))(if:$choice is "No, I need to stop this...")["No!" The word tears out like vomit. I scramble backward, tits LURCHING with the motion, ass dragging through the straw until my back hits the wall. "No more-I can't-THREE HUNDRED GOLD! You said three hundred!" My voice cracks high and WEAK. The goblin pheromones swim through my sinuses like eels made of musk. Everything spins slightly. My pussy, that traitorous gash, is still clenching on nothing, making wet sounds I pretend not to hear. "HARHARHAR! Look at ye! Scurryin' away like a virgin at her first cock-sight!" Snib's still gripping his shaft, that purple abortion swaying as he laughs. "Could see ye MEMORIZING every vein! Countin' the wrinkles! Bet ye'll dream about it!" "Shut up!" I pull my knees to my chest, trying to cover myself, but my tits are too massive, they spill over and around my thighs like sacks of warm dough. "Just-shut up and let me sleep!" "Sleep?" He waggles his cock at me. One last rope of precum flings through the air, splatters near my foot. "After sniffin' gobbo-dick like a bitch in heat? After STARING at me piss-slit like it held the secrets of the universe?" (hidden_gem:"My face burns so hot I might combust.","My face flares with such furious, feverish fire I might fucking combust.") I turn away, curling into the corner, pulling handfuls of straw over myself like the world's most pathetic blanket. It pokes at my soft flesh, everything pokes now, everything HURTS this stupid sensitive body, but at least it covers some of my shame. "Three hundred gold off yer slave-debt," Snib confirms, tucking his still-hard cock back into his loincloth with obvious difficulty. "Tomorrow maybe we'll play MORE games. See how much that hero-pride is worth!" He waddles to his pile of furs, chuckling. Within minutes, his snores rattle the hut. But I can't sleep. The smell won't leave. It's INSIDE me now. Coating my sinuses like oil. Every breath tastes faintly of ball-musk and corruption. My eyes water but it's not tears. It's my body trying to flush out pheromones that have already seeped into tissue. *Eon, keeper of oaths, forgive me. I just... I stared at goblin cock for gold. Counted heartbeats while watching it DROOL.* My pussy throbs once, hard, like a fist clenching. I ignore it. I know what comes next. The stories from the borderlands. Women found after goblin raids, bellies swollen, BEGGING not to be rescued. Saying their masters need them. That they're happy now. One day. That's all it took. One day of washing his cum-rags and now I'm lying here with my cunt, CUNT, not pussy, this hungry thing has graduated to CUNT, still drooling from just LOOKING at dick. Tomorrow will likely be worse. The certainty hits like cold water. Tomorrow he'll push further. Tomorrow these "games" will involve more than looking. And my body, this cursed, sensitive, RESPONSIVE body, will betray me again. Will get wetter. Will throb harder. Will maybe even- *No.* But the pheromones whisper otherwise. They're in my blood now, talking to parts of me that don't have words. The soft animal parts that just want to be filled, bred, claimed. I curl tighter, squeezing my eyes shut. But behind my eyelids, I see it perfectly: that purple head, the gaping slit, the way it flexed and drooled and SPOKE to something primitive in my transformed flesh. Three hundred gold earned. Just need ten thousand in total, and maybe the collar's magic will truly compel Snib to free me. (pic:"ch03/bad end/try to sleep.jpg") If I last that long. *Elara, forgive me. I'm trying. But this body... this fucking body wants things that would make you weep.* Sleep, when it finally comes, is full of purple shadows and the taste of shame. (simple_option:"04 next morning","Next morning...")](else:)[*Six hundred gold now. This pathetic creature doesn't realize I'm using HIM. Getting gold for simple tasks. I'm the one in control here, I'm-* Suddenly, my pussy SQUEEZES my fingers so hard they go numb for a second, like it's agreeing with the plan. Like it has its own opinion now. My right hand goes to his cock. I reach out, hesitate, my fingertips hovering an inch from the shaft. This close I can feel the HEAT radiating off it. Like standing too near a forge. "Well?" Snib's voice is smug. "Cock ain't gonna measure itself." I press my pinky to the base. The texture- *Oh fuck.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:200,0.20),(a:500,0.26),(a:800,0.22),(a:1100,0.18),(a:1400,0.14)))) (pic:"ch03/bad end/hold.jpg","left","Not like human skin. It's... MEAT.")MEAT. Dense, slick meat wrapped in goblin hide. My finger presses into the thatch of his pubic hair, wiry, greasy strands that SCRATCH, and I feel the root of him there, buried in his crotch-flesh. Pulsing. The shaft itself is FIRM but has give, like pressing on a muscle that's flexed to stone. "Count," Snib orders. "Out loud. So's I know ye ain't cheatin'." My mouth is so dry. "One."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.14),(a:1300,0.16),(a:2600,0.18),(a:3900,0.20),(a:5200,0.23),(a:6500,0.26),(a:7800,0.29),(a:9100,0.32),(a:10400,0.35),(a:11700,0.38),(a:12500,0.36),(a:13300,0.38),(a:14100,0.40),(a:14900,0.42),(a:15700,0.44),(a:16500,0.46),(a:17300,0.48)))) I slide my pinky up one finger-width. The shaft isn't smooth. There are ridges, veins thick as roots, and they THROB under my touch. I feel his pulse through my fingertip. His heartbeat translating directly into- (hidden_gem:"My cunt hiccups. That's the only word for it.","My cunt convulses and hiccups. That's the only honest word for it.") "Two." My voice cracks. I press my ring finger up next to my pinky. Now I'm gripping with two fingers. Can barely get them around the circumference. The GIRTH: it's thick as my wrist. Thicker. "Three." Middle finger joins. Three fingers pressed up against goblin cock. The heat is soaking into my palm. I can feel it traveling up my arm, spreading through my chest, pooling in my- "Nnngh-" Did I just MOAN? (change_stat:"snib",1)My other hand, the left one, when did it go back between my legs? My fingers are MOVING again, sliding through the mess down there, finding that spot that makes my knees weak. "Four." Index finger. Four fingers gripping his shaft now and I haven't even passed his midpoint. "Five." My thumb joins, wrapping around, and NOW I can feel the full scope of it. The weight. The DENSITY. This is a WEAPON. What split a hundred human women. What BREEDS. "Unnngh-" Snib grunts as my hand slides up another width. His cock FLEXES in my grip, the shaft going somehow THICKER for a moment, and I feel liquid warmth coat my palm. More precum. It's everywhere. Making my hand SLIP as I try to keep measuring. "Six." My pinky again, higher up the shaft now. The veins are thicker here, more pronounced. I feel one particular vein, fat as a quill stem, pulsing against my finger pad. "Seven." Ring finger. My grip is getting sloppy. Too much precum. I try to hold tighter but that just makes MORE ooze out, running down to my wrist. "Eight." Middle finger. I'm breathing so hard. When did I start panting? My tits are heaving with each breath, SMACKING together when they peak and fall. Between my legs, my fingers aren't just RUBBING now, they're DIGGING, pushing deep into folds that have OPENED, that are GAPING for- "Nine." Index finger. My small feminine fingers look RIDICULOUS against his cock. Like trying to measure a tree trunk with grass blades. The shaft just keeps GOING. (pic:"ch03/bad end/measure.jpg","right","Snib grunts as my hand slides up another width.")"Ten." Thumb. Halfway? More? I can't think. Can't. My pussy is making sounds now. Wet GURGLES every time my fingers push in, like it's DRINKING them. "Eleven." Pinky higher. The shaft curves slightly here, arcing toward my face, and when I slide my hand up I feel the thick vein drag across my palm. It PULSES and I pulse back, my cunt SQUEEZING my fingers so hard they go numb. "TWELVE." The shaft is changing texture. Getting spongier toward the head. The skin here is different. Thinner. When my finger makes contact, his whole cock JUMPS. And that makes the precum string swing, wrapping around my wrist like a bracelet. "THIRTEEN." My cunt is FLOODING. I can hear it: the wet sounds as my fingers get pulled in and pushed out by muscles I can't control. My own hips are moving, tiny circles, grinding my clit against my palm. When did that start? Why can't I- "FOURTEEN. FIFTEEN." Almost at the head now. The corona, that ridge where shaft becomes glans. It's raised like a mountain range, purple-dark, thick enough that I have to press harder to- "SIXTEEN." The head itself. Spongy. So different from the shaft. Like pressing on a mushroom that's been soaked in oil. It GIVES under my finger, but there's hardness underneath. Blood-filled chambers that- "SEVENTEEN! S-seventeen fingers, Master Snib." The words hang in the air. Seventeen of my delicate fingers to measure his goblin rape-stick. The precum is now wrapped around my wrist twice, cooling against my skin, and my fingers are COATED in the grease-slick of his cock skin. "SEVENTEEN!" He crows. "That's a lot of hero-fingers! HARHARHAR! And ye called me Master without bein' told! Good girl!" *I did. Why did I-* (change_stat:"gold",300)"Three hundred more gold off! That's six hundred total! Good COW!" My cunt CELEBRATES. SPASMING around my fingers, releasing a flood of juice that drizzles the straw. Like my pussy is doing its own accounting, getting excited about the math. "Now..." Snib shifts closer. His cock bobs and the precum FINALLY breaks, leaving a glossy rope on my forearm that immediately starts cooling. "Bet ye couldn't guess which of me balls is heavier. Worth... four hundred gold." My pussy THROBS at the thought of more gold. The most so far Of getting closer to freedom. It's practically CHEWING on my fingers now, the muscles inside undulating like a throat trying to swallow. "But ye gotta WEIGH 'em proper. One at a time. And don't make a SOUND until you got the answer." (simple_option:"03 weigh challenge","Weigh his balls...","This is too much. Stop!","doom")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")($play:"song","night arousal theme")($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$is_bad_end)[(set:$choice to "Weigh his balls...")]($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")(if:$choice is "This is too much. Stop!")[*No. NO. I just measured his cock. That's enough. That's-* (hidden_gem:"My brain feels like it's swimming through honey.","My brain battles through bogs of boiling honey.") "I-I'm done." My voice cracks. Wavers. Sounds nothing like a hero's voice. "Six hundred is... is enough for tonight." "Really?" Snib's grin widens. His cock BOUNCES, flinging a rope of precum that splatters across my belly. "All ye gotta do is check me nuts. Tell which is heavier." My fingers are STILL moving in my pussy. Still pumping. The wet sounds fill the silence-*schlick-schlick-schlick*. I try to stop but the emptiness makes me whimper. "N-no. No more." The words come out breathy. My cheeks are on FIRE. "I already... already touched... measured..." "HARHARHAR! Listen to ye! Can barely TALK straight!" He shifts closer. His balls SWING with the movement, casting shadows across my face. "All that hero-brain scrambled by a little gobbo-musk?" The smell. Fuck, the SMELL. It's coating my sinuses now, dripping down my throat like syrup. My head feels like it's floating three feet above my body. Everything's too bright. Too hot. Too WET between my legs where my fingers keep-keep- "I said NO!" It comes out as almost a sob. He just laughs. "Look at ye. Fingers buried in yer cunt, and NOW ye wanna play proper lady?" (minigame:"03 weigh",10)](else:)[(badendsave:"Pet")I breathe harder, my pussy gnawing on my fingers now, like it's developed teeth. Making wet gobbling sounds as it tries to swallow my entire hand. "Four hundred to guess the heavier ball!" I blurt. "Deal!" "Ye gotta-" "I SAID DEAL!" The words tear out of me. Four hundred more. I'm making him give in faster. I have to keep him from thinking too long! "Was gonna warn you all fair an' such." Snib grins, before he swings one leg over my face. I'm looking straight UP into the undercarriage of a goblin: asshole winking down at me, cock jutting forward, and his BALLS- *Oh Flux no-*(simple_option:"03 weigh","His balls descend...")]

($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$choice is "Succeed Check")[I rip my fingers from my cunt with a wet SQUELCH that echoes in the hut. The emptiness makes me gasp but I curl into a ball, arms wrapped around my knees, hiding my tits, hiding everything. "No more games." My voice is tiny. Broken. "Please." "HARHARHAR! The mighty Aldric! Beggin' like a virgin at her first cock-sight!" Snib stands, his massive dong swaying. "Measured me meat! Eyes crossed from starin' at me piss-hole! And NOW ye get shy?" Tears burn my eyes. RAGE. Pure rage at myself and what one day has made of me. "Get some sleep, cow-tits." He waddles to his furs, cock still jutting out like a purple branch. "Tomorrow, maybe ye'll last longer before ye start droolin' for gobbo-gold." I stay curled in the straw, shaking with the effort of keeping my hands away from myself. Of not finishing what my body SCREAMS for. (pic:"ch03/bad end/try to sleep.jpg") *Eon, keeper of what was, forgive me.* *Flux, turner of fortune, change me back.* *Verge, guardian of thresholds, close this door.* But my prayers taste like precum. Like ball-musk. Like SHAME. I measured seventeen finger-widths of goblin cock. Stared at his piss-slit until my eyes watered. Inhaled his reek until my brain went soft. All for gold. All for- My pussy clenches on nothing. Empty. Angry. HUNGRY. *To get back to you, Elara.* I think her name like a ward against evil. *Elara, I'm sorry. I'm so thrakking sorry.* Tomorrow will be worse. I know it. Feel it. The pheromones are just starting. This is just day ONE. How many days before I'm not just measuring but- *Stop.* I curl tighter, the collar cold against my throat, and try to sleep. But all I can see behind my eyelids is that purple head. That gaping slit. Those seventeen finger-widths burned into my memory forever. (simple_option:"04 next morning","Next morning...")](else-if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(badendsave:"Pet")"I-fuck-FUCK-" My resolve shatters like cheap glass. "Yes. YES. Four hundred gold. Weigh your... your balls." "HARHARHAR! Knew ye couldn't resist!" He swings one leg over my face and suddenly I'm looking straight UP into the undercarriage of a goblin: asshole winking down at me, cock jutting forward, and his BALLS- *Oh Flux no-* ](unless:$choice is "Succeed Check")[(pic:"ch03/bad end/ball weight.jpg","right","They descend like two hairy moons eclipsing my world.")The sack-skin is loose, wrinkled like dried fruit, stretched by the weight of what's inside.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:300,0.08),(a:700,0.16),(a:1200,0.22),(a:1800,0.26),(a:2400,0.28),(a:3000,0.28),(a:4000,0.30),(a:5000,0.28),(a:6000,0.30),(a:7000,0.28),(a:8000,0.26),(a:9000,0.28),(a:10000,0.26)))) Each testicle is apple-sized, kidney-shaped, and they're MOVING INSIDE the sack. Churning. I can SEE them shifting, rotating, like they're MANUFACTURING something in there. I thought he meant to weigh with with my HAND! "Open wide!" "Wai-MMMPH!" Before I can protest further, his left nut DROPS onto my mouth. The weight. It's like someone placed a hot stone on my lips. The skin tastes of concentrated sweat-brine, like licking the inside of old boots mixed with rotted cheese. But it's the TEXTURE that makes my brain scream: wrinkled and rough with wiry hairs that poke my cheeks, and underneath, through the sack-skin, I feel the actual ORGAN. Dense. Meaty. And it's... TWITCHING. *Pulse. Pulse. Pulse.* Each heartbeat makes it throb against my lips. Makes the whole thing SWELL slightly then relax. Like it's breathing. My nose grinds into his taint, that dark slick bridge between balls and asshole, and sweat floods my nostrils. **PRIMAL ALCHEMY**. A concentrated conqueror's incense that bypasses the soul entirely and gives orders to the **animal meat at the base of my skull**. Makes my eyes water. Makes my pussy- *DON'T MAKE A SOUND.* His other ball swings and SLAPS my cheek. The impact makes a wet sound, *PLAP*, and leaves a grease-mark on my skin. Now both nuts are covering my face, the sack spreading out like a flesh-blanket. I can't see. Can barely breathe. Just darkness and WEIGHT and that churning sensation as his balls WORK against my face. Inside my mouth, that left testicle is RESPONDING to the heat. To the moisture. The sack-skin is loosening, letting the actual ball slide lower, pressing harder against my lips. I feel every detail: the tubes connected to it, the way it's suspended in the sack, the little LUMPS on the surface where sperm is being- *GLRRRRRK* (pic:"ch03/bad end/ball face.jpg","A sound escapes. A GURGLE.") A sound escapes. A GURGLE. Because his ball just flexed like a muscle, pushing deeper into my mouth, and my pussy CELEBRATED by squirting a stream of juice that I hear hit the straw three feet away.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:350,0.68),(a:700,0.62),(a:1050,0.75),(a:1400,0.70),(a:1750,0.80),(a:2100,0.74),(a:2450,0.85),(a:2800,0.78),(a:3150,0.90),(a:3500,0.84),(a:3850,0.92),(a:4200,0.85),(a:4550,0.88),(a:4900,0.78),(a:5250,0.80),(a:5600,0.68),(a:5950,0.60),(a:6300,0.50),(a:6650,0.40),(a:7000,0.30),(a:7400,0.22),(a:7800,0.14),(a:8200,0.08),(a:8700,0)))) "What's that?" His voice is muffled by his own sack. "Did ye make a sound?" I try to shake my head but that just makes his balls ROLL across my face, the right one sliding into my mouth as the left pops out. This one's DIFFERENT. Heavier. DENSER. And it's moving more, churning harder, like there's something angry trapped inside trying to get out. The surface RIPPLES against my tongue and- His cock. I can't see it but I FEEL it. Draped across my chest, the head resting on my belly. Heavy as a club. And it's DROOLING. I feel hot wetness pooling in my navel, overflowing, running down my sides. Each of his heartbeats makes more precum GUSH out, marking me, claiming territory from my tits to my- *CHURRRRRN* Both balls SHIFT. The sack contracts, pulling them tight against my face, and something inside them MOVES. CHURNING. Something thick swimming around in there, heavy and alive. His unborn brood already SEEKING, pressing against the sack-walls, and I feel every movement through my lips, through my teeth, vibrating into my skull- "MMMMMNNNNNGHHHHHHH!" I scream into his sack. A full-throated WAIL that vibrates his balls. And my pussy EXPLODES. Lightning in my cunt. Every muscle from navel to knees SEIZES. My pussy MILKS my fingers, walls undulating in waves, desperately trying to drag something deeper that isn't there. Juice SPRAYS. I hear it splash the straw, feel it sheeting down my thighs, pooling hot under my ass. (hidden_gem:"My whole body convulses under his nuts.","My whole body bucks and breaks, brutally beaten by his breeding-bags.") "HARHARHAR! Listen to that hero-cunt coo!" He lifts slightly and I GASP, my mouth releasing his ball with a wet POP. Strings of spit mixed with ball-sweat connect my lips to his sack. My face is GLAZED with his essence, shining in the firelight. My pussy is still spasming, still squirting little jets with each aftershock. "L-left," I babble like a broken thing. "Left ball heavier." "Ye FAILED!" Snib swings off my face, his cock leaving a snail-trail of precum across my tits as he moves. "Made noise! Big, slutty, CUM noise! No gold!" "But-but I-" My voice is broken. Husky. Destroyed by screaming into testicles. "I said which was-" "Rules were NO SOUND!" He's grinning down at me. His cock hasn't softened at all, if anything it's HARDER, the head gone from purple to almost black, the slit gaping open and FLOODING precum. "So ye LOST that four hundred. Actually..." His yellow eyes gleam. "Ye're DOWN three hundred now. From before." My brain tries to calculate through the fog of ball-stench that's COATED my sinuses. Six hundred earned minus three hundred lost- "Tell ye what, cow-tits." He squats next to me, cock swinging like a pendulum. "One last chance. WINNER TAKE ALL." My pussy, that traitorous meat between my legs, THROBS with interest. "Hold me cock for ten seconds. No sounds. That's it." His grin widens. "Ye win? Eight hundred gold off yer debt. Ye lose..." He pauses for effect. "Ye lose EVERYTHING ye earned tonight. Back to where ye started. Plus yer naked again tomorrow for chores." The math. Eight hundred gold. That's real progress. That's ACTUAL freedom getting closer. All I have to do is hold it. I've already touched it. Already measured it. Ten seconds is nothing. Ten seconds is- "What'll it be?" (simple_option:"03 handjob","Take the bet.")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")($play:"sex loop","handjob")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.20,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1800,"forever",true))"Deal." My mouth says it. My brain finds out a second later. Eight hundred gold. EIGHT HUNDRED. My pussy actually CALCULATES: this greedy **ledger-hole** between my legs doing freedom-math, GUSHING another splash of agreement-juice. "HARHARHAR! Knew ye couldn't resist!" Snib waddles closer, that purple gut-puncher swinging like a executioner's axe. I'm still on my back, tits heaving, face SLATHERED in ball-glaze that's cooling into a mask. "Both hands, hero-cunt! Make a nice fuck-tunnel!" My hands come together without thinking. Form a tube. Sword-fingers making a two-handed cock-holster. His cock SLAPS into my palms.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.38),(a:100,0.28),(a:300,0.32),(a:500,0.28),(a:700,0.26),(a:900,0.24),(a:1200,0.22),(a:1500,0.20),"resumeAfter",true))) (pic:"ch03/bad end/measure.jpg","right","I hold perfectly still. Every muscle locked. Fingers trembling around hot goblin meat.")The impact, the WEIGHT, like catching a greased fever-brick. My fingers barely meet around the girth. Heat SEARS my palms, and beneath the skin, veins thick as rope, pulse-pulse-pulsing goblin blood. Hard at the base, spongy in the middle, iron-stiff where it swells toward the head. My hands learn his cock like a map. "One." I hold perfectly still. Every muscle locked. Fingers trembling around hot goblin meat. "Two." He THRUSTS.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.26,"peakTo",0.38,"baseFrom",0.14,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",600,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",55,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",75,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10)) One slow stroke: his cock SLIDES through my grip, foreskin rolling back, that purple mushroom-head SPURTING a rope of precum the instant it's bare. It arcs through the air and SPLATS across my left tit, hot as candlewax. "Three." Another thrust. Harder. His hips driving now. He's FUCKING MY HANDS. "Four." *SCHLORP-SCHLICK* SO wet. His cock SWEATING precum, coating my palms, making each thrust slicker, easier, obscene. The head PLUNGES through my finger-tunnel, emerging on the other side to SPIT another rope across my chest. Time stretches: the slit gaping open, white-yellow GUNK shooting out, splattering my tits, my throat, pooling in my collarbones. "Five." His balls SWING forward and SLAP my wrists. The impact shouldn't matter but it DOES. So heavy, so full of churning goblin-batter, the tubes inside them PULSING against my wrists, pumping ammunition into his cock-cannon. "Six." He's RUTTING my hands now. Actually fucking them. Each thrust scrapes his cock-veins across my soft palms. Rug-burn from goblin dick. "Seven." I look up at him. Bad idea. He's looking down at me like I'm livestock. Like something he BOUGHT. "Eight." My pussy CLENCHES on nothing, walls gripping walls, squeezing an absence shaped exactly like his cock. Aching. "Nnnnh-" A breath with voice. Nothing more. But- "EIGHT! YE MADE A SOUND!" He doesn't stop fucking my hands. If anything he goes HARDER, really PUMMELING through my grip, his cock so slathered in precum now it's like holding a greased eel. Each thrust makes wet SHLOCK-SHLOCK sounds. "NO!" The word tears out of me. "That wasn't-I didn't-" "Lost ALL yer gold! Every bit!" He's cackling, still fucking my hands, his balls WHAP-WHAP-WHAPPING against my wrists with each thrust. "Back to NOTHING!" My hands are CRAMPING from gripping his cock but I can't let go. Won't let go. Eight hundred gold just GONE because my cunt ratted me out. "Please!" I'm begging now. "One more chance! I was so close!" "HARHARHAR! Listen to the hero BEG!" He pulls his cock free. My hands stay frozen in tube-shape, like they've forgotten how to be hands. His cock SLAPS against my face. The wet impact makes me gasp. Precum GLAZES my cheek. "Please, Master Snib!" (hidden_gem:"The words flow like pus from an infected wound.","The words weep out like wicked, wanton pus from an infected wound.") "One more chance!" He looks down at me. My pussy is VISIBLY clenching, the lips actually MOVING like they're trying to speak. My whole body shaking. Tears cutting channels through the ball-sweat on my face. "One more chance..." He pretends to think. "Tell ye what. Same deal. Eight hundred gold. But this time..." He grips his cock, AIMS it at my face. "Ye hold it in that pretty mouth." Every thought in my skull goes blank as parchment. "In my-" "Just HOLD. Won't fuck it. Won't move. Just hold me cock-head in yer mouth for ten counts." His grin is pure evil. "But if ye make ANY sound-moan, whimper, GAG-then I gets to fuck that heroic throat proper." That purple plague-helmet on my TONGUE. Tasting it. Feeling it THROB. But eight hundred gold, and he won't move. Ten seconds. I can survive ten seconds. "What happens if I win?" "One thousand gold." He waves his cock, flinging precum droplets across my face. "Plus I let ye keep what ye earned earlier." A thousand. "But if ye lose..." His voice goes dark. "I throat-fuck ye till I nut. And ye swallow every drop." **The rut-reek.** If I swallow his cum, the corruption, the stories- A thousand gold. My mouth opens. (simple_option:"03 mouth","Put it in your mouth.")

(pic:"ch03/bad end/put in mouth 1.jpg")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")($play:"sex loop","bj")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.24,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1600,"forever",true)) My mouth opens. My jaw drops like it answers to someone else now. "That's it, spread them cock-pillows wide!" The head approaches. Flared wide as a doorknob. The slit GAPING. Contact. (pic:"ch03/bad end/put in mouth 3.jpg","right")The head presses against my lips and they have to stretch like I'm trying to swallow an apple whole. My jaw audibly POPS as it unhinges to accommodate the width. The taste hits: dick-rot and salt and something CHEMICAL, like an alchemist spilled acid into a week's worth of ball-sweat. It's IN.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.15),(a:200,0.28),(a:400,0.38),(a:600,0.42),(a:800,0.40),(a:1000,0.38),(a:1300,0.36),(a:1600,0.34),(a:2000,0.32)))) The whole plum-sized head fills my mouth. My lips are stretched into this obscene O, the corners already burning from the strain. My tongue is TRAPPED underneath, pressed flat by the weight of goblin cock-meat. And the HEAT. It's like holding a burning coal that won't stop PULSING. "ONE!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.34),(a:1200,0.36),(a:2400,0.38),(a:3600,0.40),(a:4800,0.42),(a:6000,0.44),(a:7200,0.46),(a:8400,0.48),(a:9600,0.50),(a:10800,0.52)))) Snib looks down at me. My green eyes staring up past the shaft stretching my lips. I know exactly what this looks like. "The mighty Aldric! With gobbo-meat stretching them pretty lips!" Can't respond. Can't nod. Just HOLD. The head THROBS against my soft palate and the first micro-spurt hits, a SLUG of hot slime against the back of my throat. Too thick to swallow. It pools under my tongue like warm tar. "TWO!" Another throb. Another micro-shot. The precum is THICK, coating my mouth, making everything slippery. My tongue accidentally brushes the underside of his cock and I feel that fat vein PULSE in response. "Wonder if she'll taste gobbo-cock on yer mouth when ye get back?" Snib grins wider. My hands CLENCH into fists. Don't touch yourself. DON'T fucking touch that sopping mess between your legs that's BEGGING for... "THREE!" (pic:"ch03/bad end/put in mouth 4.jpg","left")The head inflates in my mouth, going from plum to small apple. My jaw CREAKS. More precum, this time a steady drizzle that's filling the pocket under my tongue. The taste is getting STRONGER. Getting into my sinuses from inside. "Ye're CHEATIN' on that pretty wife!" Snib's voice goes mock-serious. "Right now! Got another male's cock in yer mouth! FOUR!" Almost half over. I try to breathe through my nose but that just means inhaling PURE ball-stench from where his sack hangs inches below my chin. My pussy CLENCHES so hard I feel juice run down my thigh. "Hehehehe, FIVE! When ye get back to bein' Aldric, ye'll have to live knowin' ye sucked gobbo-cock!" The precum is building. Building. I can't swallow. My mouth is FLOODING with it. It's leaking out the corners of my lips, running down my chin in thick streams. The head FLEXES and another SPURT hits, harder this time, with actual force. *Don't listen. Count. Just count.* "SIX!" (pic:"ch03/bad end/put in mouth 6.jpg") My tongue MOVES without permission. Just a twitch, but it brushes his frenulum and his whole cock JUMPS. My mouth briefly opens wider, I almost GAG, and more precum FLOODS in. It's flowing steadily now, his piss-slit staying open, just DROOLING directly onto my tongue. "Know what I'm gonna call that mouth from now on?" His hand goes to my hair. Possessive grip. Ownership. "Yer face-cunt! Cause that's what it is! Just another hole for gobbos to fuck! SEVEN!" My whole body is SHAKING. The effort of not moving, not moaning, not SWALLOWING is making me sweat. Beads run between my tits, pool in my navel, mix with the precum from earlier that's still coating my chest. "Look at them lips! EIGHT! Natural cock-holsters! Ye were MADE for this!" I'm drowning in precum. It's EVERYWHERE: coating my teeth, my gums, pooling in my cheeks. Some of it's leaked down my throat despite trying not to swallow. Just enough to make my stomach feel warm. "Ye know what? When I pump me load down this throat, ye'll THANK me for it! Cause that's what face-cunts do!" The words hit right as my pussy SPASMS, one clench away from the edge, my whole body seizing with the effort of holding it back, throat constricting around his cock- (pic:"ch03/bad end/put in mouth 7.jpg") "Mmmmnph-" It's tiny. Just the smallest whimper. Vibrating around his cock. But- "HEARD THAT!" His grin is PURE EVIL. "Ye made a sound! That means-" Both hands go to my head. "That means I get to fuck this hero's face-cunt properly!" (simple_option:"03 facefuck","Oh no...")

($play:"sex loop","deepthroat bj")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.32,"peakTo",0.48,"baseFrom",0.18,"baseTo",0.16,"intervalFrom",580,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",42,"sustainMs",70,"releaseMs",85,"rampBeats",18,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10))His hands grip my head. Possessive. Palming a melon at market. "Ye made a sound," he says, almost conversationally. The head of his cock FLEXES in my mouth, swelling fatter. "That means I get to use this face-cunt proper." (change_stat:"heroism",-3)I try to pull back. His grip holds. My lips slide an inch up his shaft before I'm caught. The jerk makes my tits SWING heavy from my chest. "Gonna go nice and slow," Snib says, adjusting his grip. His fingers thread through my black hair, so much fucking hair now, and twist. "Want ye to feel everything." He pushes. Just a little. *GLUK* The head presses against the back of my throat and something written in my meat takes over: throat muscles RELAXING, the passage opening like it's been waiting for this. An inch slides past my tonsils. (pic:"ch03/bad end/facefuck 1.jpg","right","'GLLLLRRK!'")"GLLLLRRK!" "There it is!" Snib's voice is gleeful. "That throat knows what it's for!" Another inch. Two. The shaft is so THICK my jaw creaks. Spit runs from the corners of my stretched lips, down my chin, dripping onto my tits. Every vein grinds past my tongue, every ridge scraping, his cock PULSING with goblin blood as it invades deeper. "Know what I'm thinkin' about?" Snib asks, still pushing. Slow. Patient. Like he has all night. "I'm thinkin' about all them gobbos ye killed. Grotch. Skrittle." *GLUK-GLUK-GLURRRRK* Three more inches disappear. My throat BULGES. When I look down, his cock makes my neck swell like I've swallowed a cudgel. My hands fly to my throat, fingers tracing his shape through my own flesh. *GLORK-GLORK-GLLLLLK* "But here's the thing-" His grip tightens. "Here ye are. The great Aldric. With gobbo cock stuffed down yer pretty throat." He laughs, this wet rattling sound. My throat is swallowing him in reverse: muscles RIPPLING along his shaft, massaging, pulling him DEEPER even as my mind screams. "Humans always thought ye were better," Snib grunts, pushing again. Eight inches. Nine. "Taller. Stronger. Smarter." His balls are getting closer to my chin. "But look at ye now." *SPLORCH-GLUK-GLORRRRK* The obscene sounds fill the hut. Wet. The sound of a throat being STUFFED. My hands are still at my neck, feeling how it stretches, how it accommodates this INVASION. How perfectly it molds to his shape. "Ye know what the best part is?" He's almost fully hilted now. Maybe two inches left. His balls REEK: concentrated musk that floods my nostrils with each desperate breath through my nose. "Ye're never gonna turn back now." He SLAMS the last two inches home. *GLOOOOORRRRK* My nose MASHES into his crotch. His balls slap against my chin, heavy and churning with seed.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.52),(a:100,0.42),(a:300,0.46),(a:500,0.42),(a:700,0.44),(a:1000,0.40),(a:1300,0.38),(a:1600,0.36),(a:2000,0.34),"resumeAfter",true))) The SMELL, gods, the SMELL, it's everywhere. In my nose, my throat, like it's soaking into my fucking bones. "THERE we go!" He holds me there, ground against him. "Balls deep in a hero's throat! Can ye feel 'em churnin' against yer chin?" (hidden_gem:"My throat spasms, trying to accommodate, trying to breathe.","My throat throbs and throttles, trying to tolerate this throbbing threat.") He pulls back enough for one ragged breath through my nose before he SLAMS back in. *GLORK-SPLURCH-GLORRRRK* "This is what happens to humies!" He's found a rhythm now. Long, deep strokes that use my throat like a fucking sleeve. Each thrust makes my tits SLAP together: wet, heavy, flopping like they're applauding while a goblin fucks my face. "And the best part-" THRUST "-is ye're startin'-" THRUST "-to LIKE it!" My hands aren't at my throat anymore. They're at my pussy: three fingers buried knuckle-deep, thumb grinding my clit, and I don't remember moving them. Lightning shoots through my belly with each press. "That's it! Finger that hero-cunt while I fuck yer throat!" His pace increases. "Bet Elara never made ye DROOL like this!" Spit and throat-slime coat his shaft, drip onto my tits, pool between them. Each thrust makes more pour out around his cock. My face is GLAZED with it. My own throat-juice mixed with his precum, marking me. (pic:"ch03/bad end/facefuck 2.jpg") "Gonna cum soon," he grunts. His cock swells THICKER in my throat, stretching me past what I thought possible. (simple_option:"03 cum","He cums...","Beg him to pull out!")

($play:"sex loop","facefuck cum")($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")(if:$choice is "Beg him to pull out!")[My throat's giving out. Can't breathe. Vision going black at the edges. I TAP frantically on his thigh-the universal signal. "HARHARHAR!" He pulls back, not all the way, just enough that his cock-head rests on my tongue. My jaw ACHES trying to stay open wide enough.(playwhenread:"gonna nut") (playwhenread:"gonna nut",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.50),(a:400,0.38),(a:800,0.46),(a:1200,0.34),(a:1600,0.42),(a:2000,0.30),(a:2400,0.38),(a:2800,0.26),(a:3200,0.32),(a:3600,0.22),(a:3800,0.18),(a:4200,0.12),(a:4800,0.06),(a:5400,0))))"GONNA NUT!" (sperm:"BLORRRRRRP!",4,"splurt 2")The first rope shoots directly onto my tongue. THICK. Hot as fresh-boiled porridge. The texture, gods, the TEXTURE, semi-solid CHUNKS mixed with liquid. The taste floods everything: salt and copper and that sick sweetness like fruit gone bad. (pic:"ch03/bad end/facefuck cum pull out.jpg","THICK. Hot as fresh-boiled porridge.") "SWALLOW IT!" I do. The thick glob slides down my throat. Feel it traveling all the way down to my- "HARHAR! DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TO!" He pulls completely out, cock SWINGING, and the second rope- (sperm:"SPLRRRRT!",3,"splurt 1")-arcs through the air. I watch it. See every detail. The yellow-white string thick as my finger, rotating as it flies, catching firelight. It SLAPS across my forehead, hot enough to make me flinch. "NNNNGH!" Snib's grunting like an animal. "TAKE IT! TAKE ME NUTSLOP!" (sperm:"BLORP-SPLURT-SPLURRRT!",5,"splurt 4")Three more ropes in quick succession. One across my right eye, sealing it shut. One diagonally from temple to chin. The third, the THICKEST, hits me square in the nose, the impact actually making a sound, the cum so heavy it immediately starts sliding down. (hidden_gem:"My face is a canvas and he's painting it with liquid shame.","My face becomes his fucking canvas, frantically painted with fetid, fertile fluid-shame.") His hand's pumping his shaft now, MILKING more out. (sperm:"SPLORT!",2,"splurt 5")This one's different. CHUNKIER. Like custard with lumps in it. Hits my lips, spreads across them, some getting in my mouth. Tastes STRONGER. Concentrated. "Open up! Catch some more!" My mouth opens without thinking. Just OPENS. (sperm:"BLORRRRP-SPLURT!",5,"splurt 3")(pic:"ch03/bad end/facefuck cum everywhere.jpg","right")Direct hit. Fills my mouth halfway in one shot. The weight of it on my tongue. The TEMPERATURE. The way it immediately starts coating everything: teeth, gums, roof of my mouth. "Hold it! DON'T SWALLOW YET!" I hold it. This mouthful of goblin seed. Feel it moving, actually MOVING, on my tongue. Like the tadpoles are already swimming, already seeking. More ropes hit my face while I hold that load. *SPLURT* across my cheek. *BLORP* on my chin. *SPLURRRT* in my hair. Each one hot, heavy, marking me. "Look up at me!" I look up. One eye sealed shut with cum. The other blurry with tears. My mouth open, showing him his yellow-white load pooling on my tongue. "*Now* swallow." *GULP.* The sound is obscene. The FEELING is worse. Like swallowing thick soup that's been left out too long. It coats my throat going down, leaves a film I can FEEL. "HARHARHAR! Good girl!" (sperm:"SPLURT-SPLURT-SPLURRRT.",2,"splurt 1")The final three ropes, weaker but still thick. One hits my sealed eye, adding another layer. One across my tits. The last dribbles onto my forehead. Snib's cock finally stops shooting, just drooling now. Long strings of post-cum hanging from the tip, swaying. My face is GLAZED. Heavy with it. Already cooling, thickening into a mask. It's in my nose, my ears. I smell nothing, hear nothing but goblin cum squelching when I move. "There we go! Proper face-paintin'!" He grabs my hair, uses it to turn my head side to side, admiring his work. "Gonna let it dry on ye. Like war-paint. Gobbo-owned war paint!" A chunk slides off my nose, lands on my tit with a *plap*. "Tomorrow-" He's tucking his cock away, still chuckling. "Tomorrow we work on the breeding-hole. But tonight? Tonight ye sleep with me load on yer face. So ye remember. Yer MINE now." He walks away laughing. I stay kneeling. Cum cooling on my face, turning to crust. In my belly, the load I swallowed sits heavy and hot, already being absorbed. I am goblin-owned. And the worst part? My pussy is still drooling.](else:)[(pic:"ch03/bad end/facefuck cum pov closeup.jpg","'Here it comes, hero-cunt!'") The veins bulge so much I feel them pressing against my esophagus from inside, each pulse making my neck expand to accommodate this breeding-club that's using my throat as a sheath. (playwhenread:"here it comes hero cunt",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:1000,0.50),(a:2000,0.55),(a:3000,0.58),(a:4000,0.60),(a:5000,0.62),(a:6000,0.60),(a:7000,0.57),(a:8000,0.52),(a:9000,0.46),(a:10000,0.38),(a:12000,0.28),(a:14000,0.18),(a:16000,0.10),(a:18000,0))))"Here it comes, hero-cunt!" Snib's voice seems distant, muffled by his own balls mashed against my chin. They're CHURNING against my face. I can feel the actual MOVEMENT inside the sack, like snakes writhing in a bag. "Gonna paint yer guts!" (sperm:"GLUK-GLUK-GLURRRRK",2,"splurt 1 internal")The first pulse travels through his cock like a fist through a sleeve. I FEEL it moving up the shaft: the base swells, then mid-shaft, then- Heat. Deeper than my throat. In my fucking STOMACH. The cum shoots directly into my gut. Like someone poured hot porridge straight into my belly. Sudden WEIGHT and warmth flooding my core. His cock so deep it's basically a feeding tube, pumping his SEED directly into- (sperm:"BLURRRRP-GLUK-GLORRRRK",3,"splurt 2 internal")More. So much more. Each pulse of his cock delivers another rope through my stretched throat. Yellow-white, thick as custard. I can picture it splattering over last night's rabbit meat in my belly, chunks of concentrated goblin genetics coating everything. (pic:"ch03/bad end/facefuck cum belly.jpg","'TAKE IT ALL!'") "TAKE IT ALL!" His hips grind harder, trying to get even DEEPER. His balls contract against my chin. I feel them TIGHTEN, the wrinkled sack pulling taut, then releasing as they pump. They're working like bellows. My stomach feels... full. Fuller. Dangerously, grotesquely PACKED. (change_stat:"heroism",-5)Cum and HEAT. Spreading through my gut like swallowed coals. Pressure building from inside. (sperm:"GLORRRRK-SPLURCH-GLUK",5,"splurt 3 internal")My body responds without permission. My pussy CLENCHES. Then releases. Then clenches HARDER. The muscles inside go crazy, rippling from entrance to cervix in waves. Something hot and thick runs down my thigh, smelling like MY shame mixed with HIS triumph. My hips buck. My back arches. My hands fly to my pussy and I'm-*Fucking CUMMING.* The orgasm hits slow and deep, starting in my gut where his seed is pooling and spreading outward. A whole-body thing. Tectonic. (pic:"ch03/bad end/facefuck cum pov.jpg","left","'HARHARHAR! Cummin' from gettin' her stomach bred!'")"HARHARHAR! Cummin' from gettin' her stomach bred!" I'm GRUNTING around his cock, muffled, animal sounds. Something being mated. Each pulse of my pussy squirts juice onto the floor beneath me. His cock FLEXES one more time, bigger than before, and I feel the BIGGEST rope yet travel up his shaft. The base bulges. Then the bulge travels up, up, UP- (sperm:"BLURRRRRRRP",5,"splurt 4 internal")This one I almost TASTE. It's so forceful it splashes back up my esophagus a bit, coating my throat from inside. Concentrated goblin spunk: salty and sour and WRONG, with an aftertaste like spoiled milk mixed with coin metal. "NNNGH!" His balls are still working but slower now. Each pulse is smaller, each rope less forceful. But he stays hilted, making sure every DROP goes directly into my stomach. Making sure it STAYS there. Making sure I'll be digesting his cum for hours, absorbing his orgasm through my gut. Finally, FINALLY, he starts to pull out. The withdrawal is worse than the insertion. Inch by inch of spit-slick cock emerges, dragging throat-slime with it. When the head finally passes my tonsils I taste him FULLY for the first time- *SOUR.* Like milk left in the sun mixed with raw eggs. The head POPS free from my lips with a wet sound. A string of cum mixed with throat-slime connects us for a moment before breaking, splattering across my tits. I gasp. Cough. Retch. My first breath tastes like goblin cock. My second breath tastes like goblin cum. Everything tastes like- "Look at that throat!" Snib grabs my face, forces me to look up. "Can see the shape of me cock in it still!" He's right. He releases me and I collapse forward, hands on the ground, these massive tits swaying. My belly feels HOT. Full. A feast of nothing but HIM. His seed already absorbing through my stomach lining into my blood. (playwhenread:"yer a gobbo owned bitch")"Yer a gobbo-owned bitch now," Snib announces, matter-of-fact. "Got me seed in yer belly. Gonna be tastin' it for days. Burpin' it up. Rememberin' who fed ye." (hidden_gem:"I try to vomit but nothing comes up.","I try to vomit but my body vetoes it, violently.") Everything stays down. The collar won't let me purge his gift. Every drop becomes part of me now. "That was just practice." Snib waddles around to face me, his cock still drooling post-cum. "Tomorrow, we work on the OTHER hole." He laughs as he walks away, leaving me on my knees, belly full of goblin cum, pussy still spasming from the most humiliating orgasm of my life.] (pic:"ch03/bad end/sleep cum.jpg") (simple_option:"03 nightmare","That night...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","nightmare 2")($play:"ambience","brothel")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",3600,"forever",true))The hallways of the Midnight Rose smell like jasmine and cum. The doorframes tower overhead. Velvet curtains drag past my eye-level. Crystal chandeliers dangle like moons I could never reach. My body jiggles as I walk. Everything bounces, but LOWER on my frame than it should be, almost at my waist. My hips roll in this exaggerated sway that makes my ass, FUCK there's so much of it, clap with each barefoot step. *Why am I barefoot?* The marble feels cold under my soles. I look down and see green. Green feet. With slightly elongated toes that grip the floor as I walk. A merchant in fine silks rounds the corner, his eyes scanning the hall. His gaze drops and finds me, and something predatory flashes in his expression. "How much for the night?" His voice booms from above. My mouth opens. I want to say 'fuck off' but what comes out is- (playwhenread:"eleek first line")"Mmm, for a big-dicked humie like you?" My voice is HIGH. Too high. Musical and desperate. "Only fifty silver for Eleek's throat-pussy! Unless ye want the full spread-n-breed package? Make Eleek's green cunt drool all over that fat-" *WHAT THE THRACK AM I SAYING?* (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/intro.jpg","right")I slap my hand over my mouth but my body, this GREEN BODY, is already moving. My leg raises, knee bending, showing the fishnet stockings that lead to... nothing. No underwear. Just my bare pussy, darker green than the rest of me, already glistening. "Cheap, even for a gobbo whore," the merchant laughs. "Turn around, show me that fat little ass." I don't want to but I DO. I turn, bend forward, hands on my knees. Feel my ass cheeks spread. Feel the cool air hit my holes. My voice comes out in this DISGUSTING coo: (playwhenread:"eleek best")"Eleek's got the best fuck-cushions in the whole Rose! That's cuz us gobbo-girls know how to milk humie cock proper-like! All that BOOYAGH seed, right in me breeding-hole!" No. No no no. I'm not a goblin. I'm ELISE. Wait, no, I'm- The merchant's hand CRACKS across my ass. "Yeah, you greensluts are all the same. Heard you can even cum just from the smell of human cock." "Only if it's real STINKY!" I giggle. GIGGLE. My body straightens and I look up, UP, at him. He grabs my arm. His hand completely encircles it. Lifts me like I weigh nothing, and suddenly I'm flying through the air into a room- *WHUMP* I land on silk sheets that smell like a hundred different men. The bed is ENORMOUS. Or no. I'm just... small. So small. The merchant is already dropping his pants and his cock- "THAT'S what Eleek needs!" My hands fly to my pussy, spreading it wide. "Big humie dick for little gobbo cunt! Gonna make Eleek SQUIRT!" *I'M NOT A GOBLIN!* But when I look at my hands they're green. When I feel my ears they're huge and pointed. My hair is the same black silk but when I see my reflection in the mirror across the room- (hidden_gem:"Small body, huge tits, massive ass, green skin, and a face that's Elise, but WRONG.","Small body, stupidly stacked, spectacularly green skin, and a face that's Elise, but WRONG.") Upturned nose. Sharp little teeth when I smile, and I AM smiling, this lewd fucking grin. My nipples are so dark they're almost black, huge areolas on tits that look even bigger on my tiny frame. Between my legs, my pussy is this obscene darker green, like overripe fruit. "Please!" I try to say stop but what comes out is: "Please wreck Eleek's gobbo holes! Yesterday some hero-cunt sucked gobbo cock for gold and now she's basically gobbo herself!" The merchant laughs. "Yeah, I heard about that. Aldric the 'Great.'" He lines up his cock with my pussy. "Anyone who does that ain't human anymore. Just another worthless greenskin whore." *THAT'S NOT TRUE!* But my legs spread wider. Wrap around him. Pull him in as he SLAMS forward and-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.50),(a:100,0.35),(a:250,0.42),(a:400,0.30),(a:600,0.36),(a:800,0.28),(a:1000,0.22),(a:1200,0.16),(a:1400,0.10),(a:1600,0)))) The dream SHIFTS- Now I'm in the lobby. The grand fucking lobby of the Midnight Rose with its fountain bubbling rose-water and its velvet divans and there's CROWDS. Merchants, guards, nobles, even other whores, human whores, tall and elegant and looking down at me with disgust. I'm on my hands and knees. Cum drips from my pussy, my ass, pools under me. My face is GLAZED with it. The taste of a dozen different cocks coats my tongue. My belly's swollen with seed and when I burp, bubbles of cum pop from my lips. "More!" My treacherous mouth begs. "Eleek needs MORE! Who wants to go next? Only twenty silver now! Discount for marathon breeding!" (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/cumdump 1.jpg","'I heard she used to be someone important!'") "Look at the gobbo slut!" "I heard she used to be someone important!" "I heard she sucked goblin cock for coin!" "Chose gold over dignity!" "Now she IS one!" And then, in the crowd, red hair- *No.* Elara. My wife standing there in traveling clothes, looking DOWN at me. Her mouth soft with pity. Worse than hatred. "I can't believe you used to be my husband," she says, her voice cutting through the crowd's laughter. "Reduced to this for a few gold coins." I try to say her name but what comes out is: "Wanna watch Eleek get bred? Only ten silver for you, pretty lady! Watch how gobbo cunts milk humie cocks!" (simple_option:"03 dream choice","'Elara, it's me! I'm still Aldric!'","'Please fuck Eleek harder, everyone!'","Just sob uncontrollably")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")($play:"ambience","brothel")(pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/cumdump 2.jpg","'I heard she used to be someone important!'")($play:"song","nightmare 2") (if:$choice is "'Elara, it's me! I'm still Aldric!'")[I try to stand, to reach for her, but my gobbo legs are too short. Cum GUSHES from my holes with the movement, splattering on the marble. (playwhenread:"eleek elara needs to see",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.22,"peakTo",0.38,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",320,"attackMs",45,"sustainMs",60,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.16,"intervalJitter",0.30,"depthJitter",0.12)) "ELARA!" But it comes out: "ELARA NEEDS TO SEE! Watch Eleek get BOOYAGH-FUCKED! Watch what happens to hero-cunts who suck gobbo-dick!" My hands fly to my pussy, SPREADING it wide. Three fingers plunge in WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. My other hand grabs my tit, squeezing until black-green milk spurts out. "NO! I'M-" But my voice shifts: "Eleek used to think she was somebody! But then she tasted gobbo-nut and now Eleek's brain is all fucked up with cum-thoughts! Watch Eleek finger her breeding-hole!" The crowd laughs. Someone shouts: "Her brain's drowning in goblin sperm! You can smell it on her!" And they're RIGHT. I can TASTE it. Like Snib's cum is sloshing around inside my skull, fermenting, rotting my thoughts. Each time I try to think 'Aldric' it comes out as "cock-slave." Each time I try to say 'hero' my mouth forms "cumslut." Elara steps closer. "You let a goblin throat-fuck you for gold. Now look-you're worth less than he is." "TWENTY SILVER!" I scream. "FIFTEEN! TEN! JUST USE ELEEK'S HOLES! ELEEK'S GOBBO-BRAIN NEEDS MORE CUM TO THINK!" A guard steps forward, cock out. Then another. Then five more. They surround me and- *SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT* Cum rains down. Seven cocks treating me like a privy. I open my mouth to scream and it fills with seed. My hands work my pussy HARDER, faster, and I'm CUMMING- "ELEEK IS A CUM-TOILET! ELEEK'S BRAIN IS GOBBO-JIZZ! ELEEK-"](else-if:$choice is "'Please fuck Eleek harder, everyone!'")[The words explode from me like vomit: "PLEASE! ELEEK NEEDS MORE COCK! Eleek's gobbo-womb is EMPTY! These humans ain't fuckin' hard enough!" I flip onto my back, grab my ankles, pull them behind my head. My pussy and ass gape at the crowd, both holes DROOLING cum that pools under me. "See?" Someone in the crowd says. "That's what happens when you swallow goblin cum. Rewrites your brain. Makes you NEED it." "She's basically a walking womb now!" "A breeding-toilet!" "Look, she's lactating!" They're right. My tits are SPRAYING black-green milk in little spurts with each heartbeat. It mixes with the cum on my chest, making this DISGUSTING soup that runs down to pool in my pussy. "Eleek's gobbo-milk is mostly cum now!" I announce proudly. "Cuz Eleek drinks SO MUCH! Yesterday a whole gobbo load, straight to Eleek's belly! Made Eleek's brain all swimmy!" A merchant steps forward. "I'll give you five silver, gobbo. But only if you bark like the bitch you are." "WOOF WOOF!" I'm on all fours instantly, ass in the air, tongue out. "Eleek's a good breeding-bitch! Eleek's got that BOOYAGH pussy that milks cocks proper! Eleek-" Elara's voice cuts through: "This is what you chose. For gold. You chose this." "ELEEK CHOOSES COCK!" I scream back. "ELEEK'S GOBBO-BRAIN ONLY THINKS ABOUT-" Three men grab me. Lift me. One slides under, cock pressing at my ass. Another lines up with my pussy. The third grabs my pointed ears like handles and- *GLORK-SLAM-SQUELCH* Triple penetration. The crowd cheers. Money changes hands, betting on how long until I break completely. My eyes roll back and all I see is white as my gobbo body gets DESTROYED and I LOVE IT-](else:)[The sobs tear from my throat but they come out as MOANS. (playwhenread:"eleek is so sorry",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.20,"peakTo",0.35,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",550,"intervalTo",340,"attackMs",48,"sustainMs",55,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.18,"intervalJitter",0.32))"WAAAAAH! Eleek is so-NNNNGH-so SORRY! But Eleek can't-FUCK-can't stop being a-AAAAH-a WHORE!" I'm crying and cumming at the same time. Snot runs from my nose, mixing with cum. My hands won't stop working my pussy, making wet SCHLICK-SCHLICK sounds that echo in the lobby. "Listen to her!" Someone laughs. "She's apologizing while finger-fucking herself!" "That's what goblin cum does to a human brain!" "She's more goblin than human now!" (hidden_gem:"My mouth opens to wail but only slutty goblin words pour out.","My mouth opens to moan but only meat-brained gobbo-speak spills out.") "ELEEK IS BROKEN!" I sob-scream. "ELEEK'S BRAIN IS FULL OF GOBBO-CUM! IT SLOSHES WHEN ELEEK THINKS! Yesterday Eleek thought she was a hero but then-THEN-" My fingers hit something deep and I SQUIRT. A fucking GEYSER of pussy juice that arcs through the air, splattering the crowd. They step back in disgust but I'm on my hands and knees, CRAWLING to the puddle of my own juice, LAPPING IT UP. "That's my husband," Elara says to someone. "Or was. Now look-she's drinking her own pussy juice because it tastes like the goblin cum she swallowed." "ELEEK IS THIRSTY!" I wail between licks. "Eleek is ruined! Eleek's brain is porridge! Warm cum-porridge! Eleek-"] (display:"divider") *GASP* I wake up.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:300,0.35),(a:600,0.40),(a:900,0.32),(a:1200,0.36),(a:1500,0.28),(a:1800,0.22),(a:2200,0.16),(a:2600,0.10),(a:3000,0.06),(a:3500,0)))) But my hand is BURIED in my pussy. Three fingers deep, fucking myself with the same rhythm from the dream. My other hand squeezes my tit so hard it hurts. The hay under me is SOAKED. I've been squirting in my sleep. "HARHARHAR! Listen to her moanin'!" Snib. Standing over me. His cock out, dripping precum onto my face. "Been watchin' ye for an hour! Humpin' the air, beggin' for cock in yer sleep! Kept sayin' 'Eleek needs' this and 'Eleek wants' that!" (simple_option:"03 day 1","Ugh.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")(playwhenread:"wake up gasp")($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"sex loop",0)(pic:"ch03/bad end/wake up.jpg","right")($play:"song","corruption theme")The morning sun slants through gaps in the mud walls. I push myself up and everything JIGGLES. Still naked. Still this meat-prison that bounces and sways and- My belly. When I sit up, I feel WEIGHT in my stomach. Something warm that sloshes slightly when I move. My hand goes to my abdomen, there's a slight bulge, warm under my palm, and I know exactly what's-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",4000,"forever",true)) "HARHARHAR! Bet ye ain't hungry this mornin'!" Snib's still standing there, cock out, that purple monster swaying as he shifts. "Got a belly full of gobbo-breakfast from last night!" I won't think about it. Won't think about the load fermenting in my stomach all night, digesting, becoming part of- "Need to hunt." My words come out softer than intended. "Food. For today." "Nah ye don't!" Snib grabs his cock, shakes it. A rope of precum flings off, lands on the dirt floor. "Gobbo nut's got everything a growin' girl needs! Protein and... uh... vitamins? Whatever humies call it!" I stand. My thighs slip against each other. They're WET. Have been wet all night. The dream, fuck, the DREAM, I was a... I grab my armor from the corner. The metal triangles are cold against my nipples, making them peak instantly. When I bend to pull up the thong, I feel that cum-weight shift in my belly. Feel it MOVE. Like it's alive in there. (hidden_gem:"The metal strip disappears between my ass cheeks and I realize I like how it feels.","The metal strip disappears between my ass cheeks and I hate how much I like how it feels.") "What..." I clear my throat again. Try to sound more like Aldric. "What are we doing today... Master Snib?" The word comes easier now. Master. After yesterday, after the gold-counting, after his cock in my- "Changed me mind!" He announces, scratching his balls. "Need me slave in better shape first 'fore I take ye anywhere." "Then what-" "Got a new deal fer ye!" His yellow eyes gleam. "Five days. That's all. Five mornings of sayin' hello to me cock-just a little sniff, maybe a kiss-and I'll let ye go!" My whole body goes rigid. "You said ten thousand gold." "That too! But this is EASIER! Just five days of mornin' greetings! If ye're really the hero ye say ye are, should be simple!" He waddles closer. That SMELL hits, concentrated ball-rot that makes my sinuses burn and my pussy- *No. Not my pussy. Just a physical response. Meaningless.* "Come on then! Just say good mornin' to me cock! Give it a sniff! That's all!" His cock is RIGHT THERE. A foot from my face. The head is darker purple today, almost black at the edges. The slit gapes and closes like it's breathing. Precum doesn't drip. It OOZES in thick strands that pool on the floor. "I won't break," I say, but my voice sounds... smaller. "Course not! Yer Aldric the Great!" He grabs his cock, angles it at my face. "So prove it!" (simple_option:"03 morning sniff","'I already played your games yesterday.'","'Five days? That's all?'","'...Fine. One sniff.'")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/1.png")($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"ambience","desert wind")(if:$choice is "'I already played your games yesterday.'")[My mouth forms the words like ash, dry and bitter. But even as defiance leaves my lips, I feel my spine curving differently. When did I start standing with my weight on one hip? When did my hand naturally rest right above my ass, fingers splayed like I'm FRAMING it? "So?" Snib grins. "That was yesterday! Today's a new day! New chances fer gold!" "You said five days." The words come out... breathy. "If that's really all-" "NOT HERE!" He waves his hand dismissively. "Outside! By the well! I'm thirsty anyway. Need me morning water. Fresh air. Sunshine on me cock. Come on!"](else-if:$choice is "'Five days? That's all?'")[The math happens before I can stop it. Five days. Five sniffs. Then freedom. My pussy, that ALIEN thing between my legs, CLENCHES at the thought. Like it's doing its own accounting. "That's all!" Snib confirms, grinning. "Unless ye can't handle it. Unless yer already breakin' from one little throat-fuck-" "I'm not breaking." But my voice has this... lilt to it. This musical quality that makes every word sound like I'm ASKING something. "Prove it then! But NOT HERE!" He scratches his balls, making wet sounds. "Outside! By the well! Need me morning water anyway!"](else:)["...Fine. One sniff." The agreement slides out like silk. Too easy. When did agreeing become so- "HARHARHAR! Knew it! But NOT HERE!" Snib's already waddling toward the door. "Outside! By the well! Want the mornin' sun on me cock while ye worship-I mean, while ye sniff it!"] (pic:"ch03/bad end/desert bucket.jpg","right")I reach for the bucket, have to bend at the waist now because squatting makes my thighs spread too wide, makes the metal thong dig into places that- The bucket's handle feels different in my grip. Aldric's calluses are a memory now. These fingers are soft, slender, and they know how to CURL. My whole body moves like water now, each motion flowing into the next. The walk to the door is- *Eon's bones.* I'm SWAYING. Hips rolling on their own, tits and ass swinging like counterweights, my whole body undulating with each step. Each step is a little performance, the armor jingling, flesh bouncing, the metal thong riding deeper between- (hidden_gem:"The morning air hits like a slap of sobriety.","The morning air attacks my awareness like an assault of actuality.") Desert stretches endless. Dunes like frozen waves. The K'tarran well rises from sand, those impossible stone joints, that metal pump with symbols that hurt to parse if I stare too long. "C'mere!" Snib's already at the well, cock out, purple meat catching morning light. "First, pump me some water!" I grip the handle. Pump. The motion makes my tits swing in opposing arcs: left goes forward when right goes back. Pump. Pump. Water gushes into the bucket, clear and cold. "Now..." Snib grins. "While ye're pumpin', repeat after me. Gotta learn to communicate proper-like!" "I know how to-" "In Goblish! Say 'Grak snib-tok.'" My hand keeps pumping. "What does that even-" "Means 'I serve master!' Important phrase! Say it!" The water's almost at the bucket's rim. "Grak... snib-tok." "Good! Now 'Grak wet-hole tok!'" I stop pumping. I don't KNOW what that means, but I can GUESS. "I'm not saying-" "Means 'I am thirsty!' Very useful!" That's... probably a lie. But what choice- "Grak wet-hole tok." "HARHARHAR! Perfect! Now..." He positions himself, cock pointing at my face. "Time fer yer mornin' greeting!" I lean forward. The smell hits before I'm even close, concentrated musk that makes my eyes water. But underneath that rot is something else. Something that makes my tummy warm up again. "Closer!" (playwhenread:"sniff 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:400,0.30),(a:800,0.40),(a:1200,0.35),(a:1600,0.28),(a:2000,0.20),(a:2400,0.14),(a:2800,0.08),(a:3200,0))))(pic:"ch03/bad end/sniff 1.jpg","My eyes water from the stench.") His cock is an inch from my nose. The head THROBS. The slit opens and a bead of precum swells, grows- *Get this over with.* I inhale. The smell bypasses all higher thought. "There ye go!" Snib grabs my hair, holds me there. "Now tell me-hero or pet? Which one are ye gonna be?" My eyes water from the stench. From the proximity. From the way my body is RESPONDING without permission. (change_stat:"heroism",-2)"H-hero!" I try to snarl, but it comes out more like a whimper. "HARHARHAR! We'll see! We'll see! Day one of five!" He releases me and I stumble back. My pussy is DROOLING. I can feel it, a strand of my own juice connecting my thighs. The day passes in this fog. I hunt. Find another desert hare easily, like my body knows exactly how to move through sand now. These hips roll naturally over dunes. The heels somehow never sink too deep. When I crouch to set snares, my ass naturally pushes out, presenting itself to nobody. Back at the hut, I skin the hare with practiced motions. But my hands shake. This WARMTH spreading through me from my belly where his cum still sits, radiating outward into my blood. "Smells good!" Snib comments from his furs. "Ye're learning! Good she-slave!" Why don't I correct him? The meat sizzles over the fire. I'm not hungry. At all. My stomach feels FULL still. Full of- "Here." I place the plate before him. He grabs a handful of my ass as I bend.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.14),(a:250,0.26),(a:500,0.32),(a:800,0.30),(a:1100,0.24),(a:1400,0.16),(a:1700,0.08),(a:2000,0)))) "Soft," he comments. "Getting softer. That's the special diet workin'!" My skin stays FLUSHED. Fevered without the sickness. When evening comes and Snib announces bedtime, something in my chest flutters. "Got another surprise fer ye tonight!" He snaps his fingers. The armor SHIFTS. (simple_option:"03 night bondage","Oh no...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","corruption theme")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.12,"amplitude",0.05,"periodMs",2800,"forever",true))The heel-boots suddenly MELT upward, black metal flowing like oil up my calves, past my knees, pooling at my ankles to form thick cuffs. Before I can react, they SPROUT chains, no, not chains, something darker, half-smoke half-metal, that shoot toward the ceiling. (playwhenread:"evening tie up",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:200,0.25),(a:400,0.30),(a:600,0.22),(a:800,0.28),(a:1000,0.18),(a:1200,0.22),(a:1500,0.16),(a:1800,0.12))))(pic:"ch03/bad end/tied up initial.jpg","'What the fu-AAAH!'") "What the fu-AAAH!" My legs JERK upward. The shadow-chains pull TIGHT, dragging my feet toward the rafters. I try to resist but my soft thighs have no strength against magical metal. My ass lifts off the ground, then my lower back- "No no NO!" The bikini top liquefies next, sliding down my arms like cold syrup. My tits PLOP free, swinging wildly as the metal races to my wrists, forms matching cuffs, sprouts more shadow-chains that YANK my arms behind my head. *CLANK-CHING* Everything pulls TAUT at once. My ass barely touches the packed earth. My legs are SPLAYED impossibly wide, ankles up by my ears, shadow-chains holding them against the wall. My arms are locked behind my head, pulling my tits up and apart. When I look down, past the massive mounds of tit-flesh, I can ALMOST see my own pussy. *Oh Flux no.* It's AIMED at him. I can feel the air on EVERYTHING: my lips have parted from the stretch, cool air hitting wetness I didn't know was there. Above that, my asshole is clenched tight, trying to maintain some dignity, but I can FEEL it exposed, feel it- "HARHARHAR! Look at that view!" Snib waddles into view, positioning himself RIGHT between my forcibly spread legs. From this angle, looking through the valley of my own tits, over the mound of my pubis, I can see him perfectly. And he can see EVERYTHING. "I'm not-nngh-not a fucking TROPHY!" I try to snarl, but the position makes my voice come out breathy, high. "Course not!" Snib grins. "Yer a pet! MY pet! And pets sleep where master can see 'em!" "I'M NOT A-" He reaches out. One warty finger traces my inner thigh, stopping JUST short of my pussy.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:300,0.16),(a:600,0.24),(a:900,0.30),(a:1100,0.26),(a:1300,0.20),(a:1500,0.14),(a:1700,0.08),(a:1900,0),"resumeAfter",true))) "Wettest I've seen ye yet," he observes. "Drippin' like a broken faucet! Makin' a puddle!" (hidden_gem:"I try to close my legs but the chains hold absolute.","I try to close my legs but the chains clamp them in their cruel, constant custody.") He's right. I can FEEL it: pussy juice running out of me in a steady trickle, pooling under my ass. "FUCK YOU!" But even my curses sound wrong in this position. Everything's breathless, desperate. "Sweet dreams, hero-cunt!" Snib yawns, turns away, collapses onto his furs. "Try not to drip too loud. I need me sleep!" "You can't just-I can't sleep like-SNIB!" He's already snoring. I pull against the restraints. Nothing. Try to twist. The chains adjust, keeping me spread. My pussy stays pointed directly at where Snib sleeps, like it's fucking PRESENTING itself. *I will NOT let him break me. I am Aldric the Great. I killed the Basilisk of Westmarch. I saved the Princeling from-* A drop of pussy juice rolls down, tickles my asshole, drips to the floor with an audible *plip*. *I will NOT-* Another drop. My cunt CLENCHES on nothing, making more juice squeeze out. *I am a HERO, not a-* (pic:"ch03/bad end/tied up 1.jpg","'HARHARHAR! Look at that view!'") My tits are so heavy in this position. They pull sideways, the nipples hard as pebbles, pointing at the walls. Every breath makes them shift, just slightly. Just enough to remind me they're there. *Eon, keeper of- keeper of-* I can't remember the prayer. My mind keeps getting distracted by the air on my spread pussy, by the way this position makes EVERYTHING feel swollen and sensitive. *Flux, you who- who-* Sleep comes wrong. Fitful. My body can't fully relax but can't stay tense. I drift in and out, and each time I surface, I'm MORE aware of my position. Of the puddle growing under me. Of my own smell: honey and musk mixing with the goblin-stench of the hut. (simple_option:"03 dream 2","The dream comes fast...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")(pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/leash closeup.jpg","The leash pulls TIGHT.")($play:"song","nightmare 2")($play:"ambience","brothel room")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.05,"periodMs",3200,"forever",true)) The leash pulls TIGHT.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:80,0.18),(a:200,0.22),(a:350,0.12),(a:500,0.06),(a:700,0),"resumeAfter",true))) My neck jerks forward. The collar digs into green flesh. I'm on my knees in Room Seven of the Midnight Rose. The bed looms like a mountain. The fat merchant sitting on it is a GIANT, his hairy gut spilling over stained breeches. "Come here, greenskin," he grunts, yanking again. I crawl. My body crawls. These tiny hands, these massive tits that drag on the carpet, this OBSCENE ass that waves with each movement. The worst part is my mouth. It's already TALKING: "Eleek comes! Eleek comes for Master! Grak wet-hole tok! Eleek's smoothie is already drippin' for humie cock!" *What the FUCK am I saying?* The merchant laughs, his multiple chins jiggling. "That's what I paid for. A proper gobbo pet. Not like those stuck-up human whores who think they're too good to bark." (playwhenread:"eleek woof")"WOOF WOOF!" The sound tears from my throat before I can stop it. My tongue lolls out. Black-green nipples hardening on tits that are proportionally MASSIVE on this tiny frame. "Good girl. Now sit." (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/leash.jpg","right","'Come here, greenskin.'")My ass drops to my heels instantly. Tits BOUNCE, settle. The merchant reaches down, grabs one of my huge pointed ears. "You know what goblins are good for?" "Bein' pets!" Eleek's voice chirps. "Bein' toilets for superior humie cock!" *NO. I'm Aldric. I'm-* "That's right. You're basically animals. Green little breeding pigs who EXIST to worship human dick." (hidden_gem:"My pussy clenches so hard juice sprays the carpet.","My pussy clenches, convulses, and christens the carpet with cunt-spray.") "Now, let's see if you've been trained properly. Up on your haunches. Paws up." My hands curl into fists, held at chest-level like a begging dog. The position makes my tits THRUST forward, dark nipples pointing at him. "Tongue out." It lolls. Drool immediately runs down my chin. "Now pant." "Hah... hah... hah... HAH!" Each pant makes my tits bounce. The merchant's cock. I can see it tenting his breeches. Not huge but HUMAN. That's all that matters to this body. "You really are just a pet, aren't you? Look at you. Three feet of green fuckmeat trained to beg for human cum." "Eleek IS a pet!" My voice is so EAGER. "Eleek knows she's just a gobbo-slut! Not like pretty human ladies!" He stands. Drops his breeches. The cock isn't impressive. Maybe six inches, hairy, with a belly hanging over it. But my body RESPONDS like it's the greatest thing ever created. My pussy FLOODS. I hear it dripping. "Crawl to me. But first-" He grins. "Tell me what you are in that gobbo-speak." "Grak snib-tok!" The words pour out. "Grak BOOYAGH humie-cock! Eleek's smoothie needs-needs-" "Needs what?" "NEEDS SUPERIOR HUMAN BREEDING!" He grabs my head, both hands on my ears like handles. "Open wide, pet." My mouth gapes. He doesn't thrust. Just... feeds it in. Slow. The head pushes past my lips. I taste salt and musk and something sour. His foreskin peels back as it slides over my tongue. (playwhenread:"deepthroat bj",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.22,"peakTo",0.35,"baseFrom",0.14,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",700,"intervalTo",480,"attackMs",50,"sustainMs",80,"releaseMs",75,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.28))(pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/leash bj.jpg","left","GLUK")"That's it. Nice and slow. Pets don't gag, do they?" *GLUK* "Look at me while I feed you." I obey. His face is red, sweating. He's GRINNING. "You know what's funny? Your throat muscles... when you swallow... it's like they're jerking me off." He's right. Every time I swallow the spit pooling in my mouth, my throat RIPPLES around him. I feel it massaging his shaft. *gulp* "Ughhh, there it is!" *gulp-gulp* "Your throat's literally milking me!" His balls, hairy and low-hanging, slowly press against my chin. They're HOT. Sweaty. They stick to my skin. "Stay right there. Don't move. Just... swallow occasionally." *GULP* "FUCK! Your throat's better than most cunts!" *I WAS Aldric. I killed goblins. I saved towns. Now I'm-* *GULP* "That's it! Your fucking throat is masturbating me! Every swallow is like a stroke!" His hands grip my ears TIGHT. Uses them to hold me in place while my throat involuntarily pleasures him. Precum, thick and salty, slides directly down my esophagus. "You know what they say about gobbo girls? That you're just walking wombs. Three holes for human use." *GULP-GULP* "Nghhhh! Keep swallowing, pet! Milk it with your throat!" The position is so DEGRADING. On my knees, face pressed to his hairy pubis, throat full of cock while my massive tits hang and my pussy DRIPS steadily onto whorehouse carpet. "Bet you're thinking about your master right now. Your GOBLIN master." *How does he-* "Yeah, we know. The whole Rose knows. Some gobbo bought the fallen hero. Bet his cock is nasty. Bet you have to smell it every day." *GULP* "But you still prefer human cum, don't you? Even owned by a gobbo, you'd rather have human-" His balls TIGHTEN against my chin. "HERE-" He PULLS OUT. The cock leaves my throat with a wet SHLORP. I gasp. Strings of throat-slime connect my lips to his cock. He grabs a bowl from the nightstand, holds it under his cock. "UNGHHHH!" (sperm:"SPLURT-SPLURT-SPLURT",3,"splurt 5")Thick white ropes shoot into the ceramic. The sound, cum hitting pottery, echoes in the room. So much. How does an average man have so much- "There we go! A nice big meal for my pet!" He sets the bowl on the floor. I stare at it. White pool of human seed. Steaming slightly. The smell hits: bleach and salt and something that makes my gobbo-brain SCREAM. "Well? Aren't you hungry?" "E-Eleek..." "Pets eat from bowls. On all fours." I drop forward. Tits hit the carpet. Ass in the air. Crawl to the bowl. "That's it. Now beg for it. Properly." "P-please..." My voice cracks. "Please let Eleek drink Master's cum! Eleek is just a stupid gobbo pet! Eleek NEEDS human cum!" "Why?" "Because gobbos are inferior!" (playwhenread:"eat cum",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:600,0.16),(a:1200,0.22),(a:1800,0.28),(a:2400,0.32),(a:3000,0.30),(a:3600,0.28),(a:4200,0.24),(a:5000,0.18),(a:6000,0.12),(a:7000,0.06),(a:8000,0))))"Good girl. You may drink." I lower my face to the bowl. My tongue extends. Touches the surface. The taste EXPLODES through my brain. *LAP-LAP-LAP* (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/lick up.jpg","The sounds I make. Like a fucking animal.") The sounds I make. Like a fucking animal. My tongue scooping cum, swallowing, going back for more. "That's right. Lap it all up." *LAP-LAP-SLURP* I'm CRYING. Tears running down my green cheeks into the bowl, mixing with cum. But I keep lapping. Can't stop. This body NEEDS it. "Almost done? Good. Now lick the bowl clean." My tongue scrapes ceramic. Tastes the glaze. Makes sure every DROP is gone. "Perfect. Now bark your thanks." "WOOF WOOF! ARF ARF!" "And what are you?" "ELEEK IS A PET! A GOBBO PET!" "And what do pets do between uses?" "They... they get tied up?" "That's right." (display:"divider") (playwhenread:"wake up gasp",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:300,0.32),(a:600,0.36),(a:900,0.28),(a:1200,0.22),(a:1500,0.16),(a:1800,0.10),(a:2200,0)))) (pic:"ch03/bad end/tied up wet.jpg") *GASP* I wake up. Still spread wide. Still tied by shadow-chains. But now- I'm HUNGRY. *No. NO.* My stomach feels empty in a way that has nothing to do with meals. Like it's expecting something. Like it NEEDS- The chains suddenly release. My legs SLAM together and the sensation, after hours spread, makes me howl. Pussy lips that have been separated all night suddenly pressed, sliding against each other in their own juice. "NNNNNNGH!" My legs shake. Can barely stand. The armor flows back into its usual shape but I just lie there, panting, looking at the PUDDLE I've made. I smell it. My pussy drools onto packed earth, marking territory I don't want to claim. "Morning, pet!" Snib stretches, his cock already hard. "Sleep good? Ye sure sounded happy! All them little moans and whimpers!" I try to form words. Try to summon Aldric's voice. But all I manage is a whine. (simple_option:"03 day 2","Day two begins...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","corruption theme")"I was... tied up all night." The complaint should sound angry. Instead it comes out... breathy. Like I'm telling him a secret. My voice has this LILT now, this upward curve at the end of sentences that makes everything sound like a question? "Loved it, didn't ye?" Snib's already up, scratching his balls through his loincloth. The sound, nails on fabric on sweaty skin, shouldn't make my nipples tighten. "No." But the word wobbles. When I stand, my legs wobble too. I don't feel as tired as I should from a night of trussed-up sleep, but I DO feel hungry. *When did I eat last?* "Time fer yer morning greeting!" Snib announces when we get to the well, dropping his loincloth. His cock springs free, twelve inches of purple-headed breeding-meat already drooling. The head's gone darker overnight, almost black-purple, with veins like ropes. The slit GAPES, showing pink inside. "Just a sniff! Day two of five!" I walk toward him. My hips do this... thing. This figure-eight sway that I can't stop. Each step makes my ass cheeks shift against each other, makes the metal thong saw between them with little wet sounds. (pic:"ch03/bad end/sniff 2.jpg","My hand reaches for his cock before my brain catches up.") (hidden_gem:"My hand reaches for his cock before my brain catches up.","My hand hunts for his cock before my brain can halt it.") *Just to steady it. For the sniff.* My fingers wrap around the shaft and- *THROB*(playwhenread:"sniff 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:400,0.35),(a:800,0.45),(a:1200,0.40),(a:1600,0.32),(a:2000,0.24),(a:2400,0.18),(a:2800,0.12),(a:3200,0.06),(a:3600,0)))) I feel his heartbeat through my palm. Feel the blood pumping through those fat veins. The skin is HOT, almost feverish, and there's this... greasiness to it. ALIVE. Like holding a snake made of meat. "That's it! Get a good grip!" I lean in. The smell hits in waves: first the general stench, then the concentrated cock-musk, then something DEEPER. Something that makes my stomach... *Rumble?* I inhale. Deep. The smell goes straight to my BELLY. My empty, empty belly that suddenly feels so HOLLOW. Like it's expecting something. Like it NEEDS- "HARHARHAR! Hungry little bitch!" I pull back, hand still on his cock. Can't seem to let go. My thumb moves, just slightly, feeling the texture. The way the foreskin slides. The precum making everything slick. "Gotta learn more Goblish today!" Snib announces. "Repeat: 'Grak hungry-hole!'" "What does-" "Means 'I need breakfast!' Very important!" My stomach rumbles again. Louder. "Grak... hungry-hole." "Perfect! Now go check the snares!" I release his cock, my hand stays frozen in a tube shape for a second, and grab the hunting knife he offers. The walk to my snares is... different. I keep touching my stomach. Pressing it. Feeling how EMPTY it is. There's a rabbit in the second snare. Fatter than the usual, enough meat for two meals. I gut it quick, skin it, bring it back. The fire crackles. The meat sizzles. The smell should make my mouth water but... "Smells good!" Snib comments. "Here, eat first today! Ye look so hungry!" He tears off a piece, holds it out. I take it. Bite. "Heh heh heh." He laughs at some little joke only he is privy to. The meat hits my tongue and- *URRRRP* I retch. The meat tastes like ash, like dirt, like something DEAD. My body rejects it violently. I run outside, spit it into the sand, but the taste LINGERS. "HARHARHAR! Can't stomach normal food no more, huh?" I'm on my knees in the sand, spitting, trying to get the taste out. My stomach HOWLS with hunger but the thought of eating that rabbit makes me gag again. "Know what ye need?" Snib's standing over me, cock casting a shadow across my face. "Ye need what's INSIDE. The special nutrients!" "I don't-" My voice cracks. "I just need... I need..." What DO I need? My brain feels FUZZY. Like someone stuffed cotton between my thoughts. When I look up at Snib, my eyes feel heavy. Hooded. Like keeping them fully open takes too much effort. The day passes in anguish. While I clean, I keep catching myself... posing. Bending at the waist instead of squatting. Arching my back when I reach for things. My hands keep going to my tits, adjusting them. "Proper she-slave now!" Snib cackles. "All sexy-like!" "I'm not being sexy?" The denial sounds like I'm purring. When I sweep, I make these little sounds. "Mmm" when I bend. "Ahh" when I stretch. Tiny noises that slip out without permission. "More Goblish!" Snib announces. "Say 'Grak booyagh snib!'" "What's that mean?" "Means 'I respect master!' Important phrase!" "Grak booyagh snib?" The words feel natural on my tongue. "Now 'Grak need nut-meal!'" That one makes me pause. Even through the fog, I know what that might mean. "Means 'I need nutrition!' Goblins call food 'nut-meal' sometimes!" My stomach growls again. So LOUD. Evening comes. I haven't eaten anything. CAN'T eat anything. The hunger is this living thing in my gut, this EMPTINESS that makes me whimper. "Ye're lookin' rough, cow-tits!" Snib observes. "All desperate-like!" I'm sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around my middle, trying to make the hunger stop. My brain keeps showing me images from the dream: the bowl of cum, lapping it up. NO. Stop. "Tell ye what!" Snib stands, waddles over. His cock BOBS with each step, precum flinging in arcs. "Got two offers fer ye!" I look up at him through hair that's fallen across my face. When did I start looking up through my lashes like this? (pic:"ch02/bad end/unhappy.jpg") "Option ONE-" He grabs his cock. "Let me use them massive tits to get meself off! Just a little titty-fuck! And I'll count it as day three! Only THREE more days instead of four!" My tits feel HEAVY. Heavier than usual. Like they're FULL of something. But they're not. They're just... there. Hanging. Waiting to be- "Option TWO-" His grin widens. "I still fuck yer tits. But instead of the day, I give ye dinner. A nice, hot, CREAMY meal. Right from the source. Fill that empty belly proper!" He flexes his cock. The head SWELLS. A thick rope of precum oozes out, dangles, stretches toward the floor. "Look at it! Full of nutrients! Yer body KNOWS what it needs! That's why ye can't eat normal food!" My mouth floods with spit that I have to swallow. My stomach CLENCHES like it's trying to grab something that isn't there yet. "So what'll it be, hero? Titty-fuck fer freedom? Or dinner fer that growling belly?" (simple_option:"03 dinner choice","Let him use your tits for a day off your sentence.","'I... I need to....'","Try to resist both options.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"sex loop","titfuck jingle")(if:$choice is "Let him use your tits for a day off your sentence.")["A day off," I pant. "Take the day off." "HARHARHAR! Stubborn bitch! Still think ye can resist!" But my stomach SCREAMS. The emptiness is so intense I double over. "Changed yer mind yet?" "N-no. The day. Take the day off."](else-if:$choice is "'I... I need dinner.'")["I need..." My voice breaks. "Dinner. Need dinner." (change_stat:"heroism",-3)"HARHARHAR! The hero's HUNGRY! Needs her special meal!" My stomach clenches so hard I whimper. "But I'm still gonna fuck them tits! Just decidin' what ye get for it!"](else:)[I try to stand, to walk away, but my legs won't work. The hunger makes me dizzy. Makes me- "Can't decide?" Snib waddles closer. "Then I'll pick! Dinner it is! Ye need to EAT!" "Don't want-" "Yer body knows better than yer brain!"] He JUMPS. Three feet of warty green launched through the air. He lands on my chest, his weight SLAMMING me backward onto the packed earth.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:100,0.35),(a:250,0.42),(a:400,0.28),(a:580,0.34),(a:750,0.20),(a:920,0.26),(a:1100,0.14),(a:1300,0.08),(a:1500,0)))) My tits JUDDER from the impact, the chains of my armor jangling as they settle. "PERFECT height!" He's straddling my ribs, his massive cock laying in my cleavage like a purple python. The head reaches past my collarbones, drooling precum onto my throat-dimple. His hands grab the chains connecting my metal triangles. YANKS them together. The triangles DIG into my tit-flesh, forcing the meat to BULGE between them, creating a tunnel of soft, pale flesh. (pic:"ch03/bad end/titfuck.jpg","'There we go! Proper fuck-cushions!'") "There we go! Proper fuck-cushions!" He pulls the chains tighter. My tits COMPRESS around his cock, the pressure making me-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.35,"peakTo",0.50,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.14,"intervalFrom",750,"intervalTo",480,"attackMs",80,"sustainMs",60,"releaseMs",100,"rampBeats",24,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.18,"depthJitter",0.08)) "Ahhhhh-NNNH!" The moan rips out before I can stop it. High. Desperate. Nothing like Aldric's voice. "HARHARHAR! Feel that? Feel me cock between them udders?" He starts SAWING, using the chains like reins, making my tits slide up and down his shaft. The friction is- *SHLAP-SHLAP-SHLAP* Each stroke makes wet sounds. My tits are SWEATING from the day's exertions, making everything slick. His cock leaves trails of precum between them that get worked into foam by the motion. "Watch yer tits milk me cock!" Snib's grunting now, really PUMPING as he holds the sides. I look down. Can't help it. His purple cockhead emerges from my cleavage with each thrust, the slit GAPING, showing pink inside. Precum SPURTS in little jets that hit my chin, my lips. "Nnnnngh-fuck-ahhhh!" My voice. Making those sounds. My mouth hanging open as this goblin uses my tits like a CUNT. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* Faster now. His balls DRAG across my belly with each thrust. They're so HEAVY, so full, churning with- "Tell me what these are!" He yanks the chains, making my tits SQUEEZE his cock. "What are these fat things for?" "They're-ahhh-they're-" "SAY IT! Say they're me DICK-CUSHIONS!" "Mmmmnnngh!" I bite my lip but another moan escapes. The friction, the weight of him, the way my nipples scrape against metal with each pump- His cock is getting THICKER. I can feel it swelling between my tits, the veins bulging more, the head going from purple to almost BLACK. (vid:"img/ch03/bad end/titfuck.mp4") "Come on! What are they? These big fat-" *WHAP-WHAP-WHAP*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.48,"peakTo",0.58,"baseFrom",0.18,"baseTo",0.16,"intervalFrom",480,"intervalTo",340,"attackMs",50,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",70,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10)) He's SLAMMING now. Really fucking my tits. My whole body rocks with each thrust, making my tits RIPPLE, the meat jiggling even in his grip. "GAAHHH-Stop-I can't-NNNNGH!" But I'm not fighting. My hands could push him off but they're just... there. Letting it happen. My legs spread wider for balance, my back arches to give him better angle-when did I- "GONNA NUT!" His voice goes high. "Gonna feed ye proper!" The head SWELLS. The slit dilates so wide I can see INTO him, see the cum traveling up- "TELL ME WHAT THEY ARE!" He releases the chains, GRABS my tits with both hands, MASHING them together around his cock. His fingers SINK into the meat, squeezing so hard it hurts but also- "AHHHHH!" "SAY IT! WHAT ARE YOUR TITS?" (simple_option:"03 tits are","'They're... they're your dick-cushions!'","'F-fuck pillows! They're fuck pillows!'","'Goblin cock-warmers!'")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"sex loop","breathing level 5")(if:(get_choice:"03 day 2","Let him use your tits for a day off your sentence."))[(if:$choice is "'They're... they're your dick-cushions!'")["They're-AHHHHH-they're your DICK-CUSHIONS!" (change_stat:"heroism",-2)The words RIP from my throat in a moan so desperate it sounds like someone else. Someone BROKEN.](else-if:$choice is "'F-fuck pillows! They're fuck pillows!'")["F-FUCK PILLOWS!" I scream it. "THEY'RE FUCK PILLOWS!" (change_stat:"heroism",-2)My voice cracks on 'pillows' going so high it's basically a squeal.](else:)["GOBLIN COCK-WARMERS!" (change_stat:"heroism",-3)The filthiest option tears from my lips. "MY TITS ARE GOBLIN COCK-WARMERS!"] "HARHARHAR! THAT'S RIGHT!" His face contorts above me: yellow eyes rolling back, broken teeth bared, warty green features twisting into this expression of pure CONQUEST. His mouth opens and he makes this sound- "HNNNNGH-GAAAAAAHHHH!" (playwhenread:"look at yer master nutting",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.52),(a:400,0.40),(a:800,0.48),(a:1200,0.36),(a:1600,0.44),(a:2000,0.32),(a:2400,0.38),(a:2800,0.28),(a:3200,0.32),(a:3600,0.24),(a:4000,0.20),(a:4400,0.14),(a:4800,0.08),(a:5200,0))))Like he's shitting and cumming at the same time. His whole body SPASMS. I feel his cock SWELL between my tits, the veins going so rigid they're like ropes, the head inflating from plum to apple-sized and- Time slows. I watch the slit DILATE. Watch it spread impossibly wide- (sperm:"BLOOOOORP!",7,"splurt 4")The first rope ERUPTS. A fucking GEYSER of goblin nut-sludge that launches straight UP, twisting in the air like a fat white snake. I watch it rotate, see chunks within the stream, actual CHUNKS of concentrated sperm like cottage cheese in milk, and then gravity takes over. *SPLAT!* Direct hit on my forehead. The WEIGHT of it, like someone dropped a handful of hot porridge from height. It immediately starts sliding down, one thick river going toward my left eye. "GAAAHHH! TAKE ME BALL-BATTER!" (sperm:"SPLOOOOORT!",6,"splurt 3")The second rope arcs HIGHER. I watch it climb, peak, then rain down in multiple globs. One seals my right eye completely, hot and thick enough that blinking doesn't help. Another lands on the bridge of my nose. A third PLOPS onto my upper lip and immediately starts trying to invade my mouth. (sperm:"BLORP-BLORP-BLORP!",5,"splurt 5")Three rapid spurts coat my tits. GLOBS. Custard-thick wads that land with actual WEIGHT, spreading slowly across the pale flesh. One lands directly on my left nipple and it's so HOT it makes me- "NNNNNGH!" (sperm:"SPLURCH!",4,"splurt 2")This one's CHUNKIER. Like he saved the thickest stuff for the middle. It hits my chin and SPLATTERS, sending droplets across my cheeks, into my hair, one glob even lands in my EAR where I hear it SQUELCH. "LOOK AT ME!" Snib screams. "LOOK AT YER MASTER NUTTING!" I force my unsealed eye open. His face is. God, it's DISGUSTING. Tongue lolling out, drooling, eyes completely rolled back. His whole body's convulsing like he's having a seizure, pumping load after load between my tits. (sperm:"BLUUUURRRRP!",6,"splurt 1")The BIGGEST one yet. So thick it's almost SOLID. Hits my mouth. I try to keep it closed but the sheer FORCE makes my lips part and suddenly my mouth is FULL. The taste: concentrated ball-rot mixed with something chemical, like acid that's gone sweet. My body wants to spit but also wants to- *GULP* I swallow without meaning to. (hidden_gem:"The cum slides down my throat like liquid shame.","The cum crawls down my throat, coating it completely in concentrated shame.") (sperm:"splurt-splurt-splurt",3,"splurt 4")The final spurts are weaker but THICKER. Pure nut-custard that dribbles onto my tits, adding layers to what's already there. My cleavage is a LAKE of cum now, yellow-white and steaming in the cool night air. (pic:"ch03/bad end/titfuck cum.jpg","I'm a canvas for goblin genetics.") (playwhenread:"snib ugh fuck")"UGHHHHH... FUCK..." Snib's cock finally stops shooting. Just twitches between my tits, drooling post-cum that adds to the pool. He pulls back, cock sliding free with a wet SCHLORP, leaving snail-trails of mixed precum and tit-sweat. "There ye go!" He's panting, cock still half-hard, swaying. "Day three DONE! Only two more days!" He climbs off me, stands there looking down at his handiwork. My face is GLAZED. I can feel the weight of cum on my forehead, cheeks, chin. My tits are absolutely COVERED, not an inch of clean skin visible. It's already starting to cool, getting thicker, forming a crust. "Better clean that off!" Snib waddles to his furs, collapses. "But remember-ye chose the DAY OFF, not dinner! So DON'T EAT ANY!" The hunger in my belly ROARS. My tongue moves without permission. Circles my lips. Tastes the cum there: salty and thick and WRONG but also... *No. Stop.* My hand goes to my tit. Fingers scoop up a glob of cum. I stare at it: yellow-white and chunky, steaming on my fingertips. *Don't.* My mouth opens. *You chose the day off. You can't-* I suck my fingers clean. The taste EXPLODES on my tongue and somehow in my STOMACH. Like it recognizes what this is. Like it's been WAITING. The warmth spreads immediately, that hollow ache suddenly less intense. "HARHARHAR! LOOK AT HER GO!" My other hand's already scooping, bringing more to my mouth. I'm not eating. I'm FEEDING. Desperately. Gathering cum from my tits with both hands, sucking my fingers, going back for more. *SLURP-GULP-SLURP* The sounds I make. Wet. Desperate. HUNGRY. Each swallow makes my stomach feel fuller, warmer, BETTER. The cum is so THICK I have to chew chunks of goblin nut like they're food. Because they ARE food now. The only food my body wants. "Can't help yerself!" Snib's cackling. "Needed that meal more than the day off!" I'm bent forward now, LICKING my own tits. Tongue extended, gathering cum, swallowing, going back. My hands squeeze my tits up toward my face to reach more. The position is absurd, face buried in my own cleavage, desperately eating goblin cum, but I can't stop. When my tits are mostly clean, my hands go to my face. Scraping cum from my cheeks, my forehead. I dig it out of my ear. Fish it from my hair. Every DROP goes in my mouth. Every GLOB gets swallowed. Finally, FINALLY, I'm done. Sitting there panting, belly full and warm, the taste of goblin cum coating my entire mouth and throat. "Satisfied?" Snib yawns. "Good. Time fer bed!" He snaps his fingers. (playwhenread:"evening tie up")The armor TRANSFORMS again. Flows up my legs, down my arms, forms those shadow-chains that YANK me into position. Legs spread and raised, pussy aimed at him like an offering. But my brain's barely there. Barely processing. The cum in my belly is doing something. Making everything soft and warm and distant.](else:)[(if:$choice is "'They're... they're your dick-cushions!'")["They're-AHHHHH-they're your DICK-CUSHIONS!" (change_stat:"heroism",-3)The admission RIPS from my throat in this high, desperate wail that sounds nothing like-](else-if:$choice is "'F-fuck pillows! They're fuck pillows!'")["F-fuck-NNNGH-fuck PILLOWS! They're fuck pillows!" The words come out breathy, GASPING, my voice cracking on 'pillows' like I'm-](else:)["Goblin cock-warmers! AHHH! For goblin cock!" I don't even know where the words come from, just MOANING them out while-] "HARHARHAR! THAT'S RIGHT!" Snib's face contorts above me: yellow eyes rolling back, warty mouth stretched in this obscene O, drool running down his chin. His whole body SHUDDERS, those apple-sized balls contracting against my sternum. "HERE IT-NNNNNGGGHHHH-HERE IT COMES!" The cock between my tits SWELLS. The ENTIRE SHAFT inflates like someone's pumping air into it. The veins bulge so thick I feel them pressing into my soft tit-flesh. The head goes from purple to BLACK-purple, the slit dilating so wide I can see the cum RUSHING up the pipe- Time slows. I watch the first rope BUILD inside him. See it travel from balls to base, base to mid-shaft, the whole cock FLEXING with the effort. The head emerges from my cleavage one last time and- (sperm:"BLOOOOORRRRRRPPPP!",5,"splurt 1")The first shot ERUPTS like a geyser. I watch it launch into the air. A thumb-thick rope of yellow-white SLUDGE, rotating as it flies, catching firelight so it GLEAMS. Reaches its apex directly above my face. Hangs there for one impossible moment. Then gravity claims it. (sperm:"SPLAT-GLOP!",3,"splurt 2")DIRECTLY onto my forehead. The impact, the WEIGHT, it hits like someone dropped hot porridge from height. Some splashes into my hair, but most just SITS there, too thick to run, already cooling against my skin. "GAAAAAHHHHH!" Snib's making sounds I've never heard: this guttural GRUNT-SQUEAL as his cock FLEXES again- (sperm:"SPLOOOOOORRRRTTTTT!",4,"splurt 3")This one arcs PERFECTLY. I track it with one eye (the other's already sealed by cum) as it traces a parabola through smoke-hazed air. Lands DIRECTLY across the bridge of my nose, the impact making a wet THWACK sound. The smell hits instantly: concentrated ball-rot mixed with something chemical, like rotted eggs soaked in vinegar. "TAKE IT! TAKE ME FUCKIN' NUT!" (sperm:"BLORP-BLORP-BLOOORRRRP!",6,"splurt 4")Three rapid shots. The first hits my lips, I taste it immediately, sour-salt with chunks of something solid. The second splashes across my right tit, so hot it makes me gasp. The third- *Oh Flux-* Goes DIRECTLY into my open mouth. (hidden_gem:"The texture is unspeakable-like curdled cream mixed with fish oil.","The texture tortures my tongue-thick as custard, chunks like cottage cheese, coating like candle-wax.") (sperm:"SPLOOOOOOGE!",3,"splurt 5")He RAMS his cock down between my tits for this one, the head disappearing completely. I feel the cum inject DIRECTLY into my cleavage, flooding the tunnel between my breasts with heat. It immediately starts leaking out the bottom, running down my sternum toward my belly. "FUCK YEAH! DROWN IN IT!" (sperm:"GLOP-SPLURT-GLOP!",4,"splurt 6")His hands SQUEEZE my tits together HARD as more ropes pump between them. The cum has nowhere to go but UP and OUT, creating this obscene fountain that splashes back down on both of us. (pic:"ch03/bad end/titfuck cum.jpg","I'm a canvas for goblin genetics.") "Look at all that BABY-BATTER! Gobbo breakfast!" (sperm:"Splurt... splurt... drizzle...",2,"splurt 7")The final spurts are weaker but THICKER. Like squeezing the last of the paste from a tube. One dribbles onto my collar. Another pools in the hollow of my throat. The last just OOZES from his slit, adding to the lake between my tits. Snib releases my breasts and they FLOP apart, cum SPLASHING as they separate. He's still straddling me, cock softening but still drooling, adding drops to the MESS he's made. My face is GLAZED. Literally glazed like a fucking pastry. I can feel the weight of it, the heat already cooling to body temperature. One eye completely sealed. Cum in my nostril making me breathe through my mouth. Hair matted to my skull. And between my tits- *So much.* It pools there like a bowl, yellow-white and CHUNKY, little bubbles popping on the surface. "HARHARHAR!" My stomach GROWLS. My tongue moves without permission. Circles my lips. Tastes the thick SLOP coating them. And my belly SINGS. "Hungry little hero!" Snib climbs off, his cock leaving snail-trails across my tits as he goes. "Go on! Dinner's served! Hot and fresh!" My hands move to my tits. Cup them. LIFT them toward my face. The cum pools in my palms and I- *SLURRRRRP*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:1000,0.18),(a:2000,0.24),(a:3000,0.30),(a:4000,0.35),(a:5000,0.38),(a:6000,0.40),(a:7000,0.38),(a:8000,0.34),(a:9000,0.28),(a:10000,0.22),(a:12000,0.16),(a:14000,0.10),(a:16000,0.06),(a:18000,0)))) I'm DRINKING it. Tilting my palms like cups, letting the thick sludge run into my mouth. The texture is like swallowing raw egg whites mixed with gruel, with little CHUNKS that might be concentrated sperm-cells, all of it coating my mouth, my throat- "That's it! Gulp it down!" *GULP. GULP. GULP.* My hands scoop more from my cleavage. Fingers gathering the steaming slop, bringing it to my mouth. I'm making SOUNDS: these desperate, hungry noises as I feed myself goblin cum like it's the finest feast. My stomach stops hurting. Stops growling. Starts to feel WARM and full and- "Grak hungry-hole tok!" Snib laughs. "That means 'I'm still hungry' in Goblish! Say it!" "Grak hungry-hole tok," I repeat through a mouthful of cum, then go back to gathering more from my face, my hair, my tits. Using both hands now, SHOVELING it into my mouth. The sour-salt taste doesn't even register anymore. Just the satisfaction of my belly finally, FINALLY getting what it- *SNAP* His fingers snap and the armor SHIFTS. (playwhenread:"evening tie up")"Bedtime position!" The metal flows like liquid up my limbs. Ankles yanked toward my ears. Arms locked behind my head. Spread wide, pussy aimed at the ceiling, drooling juice in a steady stream. "Nighty night, cum-bucket!" He collapses onto his furs, already snoring. I hang there, cum still coating parts of my face I couldn't reach, belly FULL of his seed. Can feel it sloshing when I breathe. Warm. Heavy. *Satisfying.* My eyes flutter closed and-] (simple_option:"03 dream 3","You dream.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")(pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/dance 1.jpg","My tiny gobbo feet stamp the boards.")(playwhenread:"eleek dancing",(dm:"mode","rhythm","peakFrom",0.18,"peakTo",0.18,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",400,"intervalTo",400,"pulseMs",60,"forever",true))($play:"song","nightmare goblin jig")($play:"ambience","brothel room")($play:"sex loop",0) The Midnight Rose's candles flicker against my green skin. My tiny gobbo feet stamp the boards, *CLACK-CLACK-CLACK*, ankle bangles jingling like temple bells. "Shake them udders, greenie!" someone shouts. Up-down-up-down. When I let go, they keep bouncing for three more beats. *WHAP-WHAP-WHAP* against my ribs. "Now the ass!" I turn, bend at the waist, make my huge green ass CLAP. Left cheek to right cheek, *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP*, while my pussy drools down my thigh. The men aren't even watching. They're at their table, shuffling papers. "-the Eboncrest estate is considerable," one says, not even glancing as I drop to all fours and CRAWL across the stage, tits dragging. "Aldric the Great owned property in the center of town, prime real estate." Something twists in my chest. Why does that name- (playwhenread:"eleek needs cock")(pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/dance 2.jpg","right","'ELEEK NEEDS COCK!'")"ELEEK NEEDS COCK!" I announce, spreading my pussy with both hands. "Eleek's gobbo-cunt is EMPTY!" They ignore me. Keep talking. "His wife Elara has accepted Captain Giles' proposal. Smart woman-she needs protection now that her husband turned into..." The merchant gestures vaguely at me without looking. "...that." *Elara.* The name makes my pussy clench but also makes me want to- "LOOK HOW WET ELEEK IS!" I'm on my back now, legs spread in a perfect split, fingering myself. Three fingers. Four. My whole tiny fist disappears into my sopping green cunt. "Eleek can take ANYTHING!" "Absolutely pathetic," another merchant mutters, still reviewing documents. "Not even a HUMAN whore. Had to become the lowest thing possible." "ELEEK IS THE LOWEST!" I agree enthusiastically, fist-fucking myself. "Eleek used to be someone important but then got turned into a stupid gobbo cum-toilet!" "The way I heard it," the first merchant says, signing something, "he sucked goblin cock for gold. Can you imagine? The Hero of Eboncrest, on his knees for greenskin dick?" "THAT'S ELEEK'S FAVORITE!" I squeal, pulling my fist out, it's GLAZED with pussy juice, and licking it clean. "Gobbo cock tastes the BEST! Especially the chunky cum!" One merchant finally looks at me. Tosses a copper at the stage. "Come here, creature." I SCRAMBLE on all fours, tits swinging, ass high. Jump off the stage and crawl under the table. His cock is out: human, thick, already hard. "No teeth," he says absently, going back to his papers. (playwhenread:"deepthroat bj",(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.25,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1400,"forever",true))I swallow him to the base in one motion. My gobbo throat is MADE for this. Just wet heat milking his shaft while he discusses property values above me. "-the armory alone is worth eight hundred gold-" *GLUK-GLUK-GLUK* My throat makes wet sounds around his cock. I'm not sucking. I'm letting my throat MILK him. Each swallow massages his shaft. "-of course, the furniture will need to be sold-" (sperm:"SPLRT!",2,"splurt 1 internal")(pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/bj cum.jpg") He cums without warning. Just floods my throat while still talking business. I swallow every drop, feeling it slide hot into my belly where it belongs. "Next," he says. (playwhenread:"eleek gangbang",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.28,"peakTo",0.42,"baseFrom",0.14,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",320,"attackMs",50,"sustainMs",45,"releaseMs",70,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.28))I crawl to the next merchant. He's fatter, older, his cock smaller but THICKER. I climb onto his lap, sink down on it in one motion. My gobbo-cunt swallows it like it's nothing. "Ungh!" I moan. "Eleek's pussy says THANK YOU!" He doesn't respond. Just keeps reading: "-Elara gets the house, but the contents go to-" (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/triple.jpg","left")I bounce. Hard. Fast. My ass CLAPS against his thighs. I'm just furniture that happens to move. He signs documents WHILE I ride him, using my back as a writing surface. "Sign here," he tells another merchant, pressing the paper against my shoulder blade while my pussy spasms around him. Something hot splashes my tits from the side: the third merchant is jerking off, not even watching, just using me as a cum-target while reviewing ledgers. His seed hits my green flesh in thick ropes. "THANK YOU FOR THE DECORATION!" I squeal. "Eleek looks prettier with cum!" The fat one inside me grunts, once, and I feel him flood my womb. No ceremony. Just a biological function. He pushes me off immediately. "Who hasn't used it yet?" he asks the table. "I'll take the mouth again," someone says. "But keep it quiet. I'm trying to read Aldric's will." *Aldric.* The name means something. Was someone. But Eleek doesn't care about was. Eleek only cares about IS. And what IS is another cock pushing past my lips while men divide up some hero's entire life above me, never once acknowledging that I'm here, bouncing between their laps, covered in cum, my holes all available, my gobbo body doing what it was MADE for- "Eleek is so happy!" I gurgle around the cock. "Eleek gets to help important humans while they do important things! Eleek's just the entertainment! Just a little green cum-toilet bouncing around!" (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/cumdump 3.jpg") One of them pats my head absently, like petting a dog, while signing another document that probably sells off everything some hero once loved- *GASP* (display:"divider") I wake. I can't remember my dream. But I'm crying. (simple_option:"03 day 3","The third morning...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"sex loop",0)(pic:"ch03/bad end/tied up cum.jpg") My eyes flutter open to shadow-chains holding me spread like a wishbone, legs up by my ears, pussy aimed at Master Snib like an offering to a god. The morning routine. Same as yesterday. Same as the day before. My cunt's already drooling, thick strands connecting my thighs like I've been edging all night. "Mornin', tit-slave!" Master's voice cuts through the fog. He's already up, scratching his balls through his loincloth, that purple monster making the fabric tent. The sight makes my mouth water. Spit pools under my tongue and I have to swallow. "Morning, Master Snib." The words flow like honey now. Sweet. Natural. My voice has this... purr to it. This musical quality that makes everything sound like I'm begging. He waddles over, morning wood swinging. "Day three! Almost done with our deal!" *Deal?* Something about five days. Five mornings of... of... His cock flops out. Twelve inches of feeding-meat, already glazed with precum. The head's gone so dark it's almost black, and the smell- *HITS* me. My pussy CLAMPS. A full-body spasm makes juice spray out, spattering the packed earth. My nipples go from soft to diamond-hard in one heartbeat. My mouth floods with so much spit I have to swallow again. "Time fer yer greetin'!" I don't even remember moving, or when we go outside. One second I'm chained, the next the shadows release and I'm on my knees, crawling toward that beautiful purple fuck-pole, tits swaying like temple bells, ass clapping with each movement. The armor materializes as I move: metal triangles barely containing my udders, thong disappearing between cheeks that won't stop jiggling. I don't walk to the well anymore. I crawl. On all fours like a good-like a- The morning sun makes his cock glisten. Precum doesn't drip. It POURS. A constant stream like tree sap, pooling in the sand. My tongue extends before I reach him. "Just a sniff!" he reminds me, but I'm already there, nose pressed to the underside, inhaling so deep my tits rise. (playwhenread:"sniff 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.25),(a:400,0.40),(a:800,0.50),(a:1200,0.46),(a:1600,0.38),(a:2000,0.30),(a:2400,0.22),(a:2800,0.16),(a:3200,0.10),(a:3600,0))))(pic:"ch03/bad end/sniff 3.jpg","The smell goes straight to my womb.") The smell goes straight to my womb. Bypasses everything. I feel something inside me... open? Soften? Like it's preparing for- "Good girl! Now pump some water!" I grip the handle. My tits swing in opposing arcs as I work: left forward when right goes back. *Plop-bounce-plop-bounce.* The chain between them clinks a rhythm. Water gushes into the bucket, clear and cold, but I'm watching his cock the whole time. Watching it throb. Watching the veins pulse. Watching precum bubble from the slit and slide down the shaft in thick rivers. "More goblish today!" He grins. "Say 'Grak want booyagh nut-milk!'" "Grak want booyagh nut-milk." It comes out before my brain processes it. My pussy agrees with a fresh gush of juice. "Means 'I'm a good worker!' Now say 'Grak's smoothie ready for-'" "Master Snib's fat cock." I finish his sentence. When did I learn that? My tongue knows the shape of those words like it's been saying them forever. We go hunting. I'm better at it now. My body moves through sand like it was born here. These hips roll naturally over dunes. When I bend to check snares, my ass pushes out and I hold it there. Natural as breathing. Find a fat lizard today. Good meat. But when I try to eat- *URRRRP* Again. The cooked flesh tastes like ash. Like death. My stomach rebels violently. I run outside, spit into sand, but the taste lingers. My belly HOWLS with hunger but food makes me gag. "HARHARHAR! Can't eat normal food no more!" I'm on my knees, spitting. "I just... I need..." "Know what ye need?" (hidden_gem:"His cock sways as he approaches, hypnotic as a snake.","His cock sways serpentine, slithering closer, hypnotic.") "Special nutrients. The kind that comes from..." He grabs his shaft, shakes it. A rope of precum whips through the air, lands on my face. The hunger EASES slightly where it touches. Back inside, I clean. But differently now. When I sweep, I make these sounds: "mmm" when bending, "ahh" when stretching. My hands keep adjusting my tits, making sure they're displayed right. When Master Snib walks by, I automatically arch my back. Present myself. "Grak snib-tok," I murmur while scrubbing. The words feel good in my mouth. "Grak booyagh Master." "What's that mean?" He asks, though his yellow eyes gleam like he knows. "I... I serve..." But it means more than that. "Yer learnin'!" He SLAPS my ass as I scrub.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.58),(a:80,0.38),(a:200,0.28),(a:400,0.35),(a:550,0.22),(a:700,0.28),(a:850,0.16),(a:1000,0.20),(a:1150,0.10),(a:1300,0.14),(a:1500,0.06),(a:1800,0)))) The flesh jiggles for three full seconds. I don't stop scrubbing. Don't even pause. Just let him watch it dance. By afternoon, the hunger's worse. My stomach feels like it's eating itself. But there's this... warmth in my belly. From the loads I've swallowed. They're still there, I can feel them. Hot and thick, slowly absorbing through my stomach lining into my blood. "Please," I whimper, not sure what I'm begging for. "I'm so hungry..." "Could feed ye," Master says, stroking his cock. It hasn't gone soft all day. "But not in yer mouth. Only one place that'll satisfy me now." My pussy THROBS at the suggestion, like it has its own heartbeat. "Come here." I crawl. Don't walk. Crawl. My tits drag on the floor. His warty fingers snap. (pic:"ch03/bad end/needs cleaning.jpg","'Time to clean Master's cock.'") "Time to clean Master's cock." Juice runs down my thigh in a steady stream. (simple_option:"03 cock clean","Clean his cock.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"sex loop","bj")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2200,"forever",true))Master Snib's cock hangs between his legs like a purple cudgel. Veins thick as my fingers rope around the shaft, pulsing with each heartbeat. And the SMELL- My mouth floods with spit. Have to swallow. Then swallow again. "Been coupla days since ye cleaned it proper," he says, one hand lazily stroking the shaft. A rope of precum GUSHES from the tip and pools on the floor. "Got all sorts of flavors fer ye." I reach him. Look up. My green eyes meeting his yellow ones. The collar feels so HEAVY around my throat. "How should I clean it, Master Snib?" The words come out in this... purr. This musical WHINE that makes everything sound like begging. "Start at the balls. Work yer way up." His sack hangs low, each testicle apple-sized, the wrinkled skin glazed with sweat. I lean forward, extend my tongue- *Contact.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:200,0.22),(a:400,0.30),(a:700,0.26),(a:1000,0.22),(a:1300,0.28),(a:1600,0.24),(a:1900,0.20),(a:2200,0.16),(a:2600,0.12),"resumeAfter",true))) The taste EXPLODES through my mouth. Salt. Musk. Something fungal. Something MALE. My pussy responds immediately: a fresh gush of juice that I hear splatter on the floor. "Mmmmmph..." (pic:"ch02/bad end/bj lick.jpg","left","Long strokes from bottom to top, gathering sweat on my tongue.")I lick. Long strokes from bottom to top, gathering sweat on my tongue. Each pass makes his balls twitch, churning with-with- *Food.* The thought comes unbidden. These balls are full of FOOD. The only food my body wants now. "Tell me what they taste like." "Like..." My voice is breathy, high. "Like... like they've been fermenting." I take one into my mouth, have to stretch my jaw wide. It barely fits. "Mmmph... sho heavy..." "Heavy with what?" I release it with a wet POP. Strings of spit connect my lips to his sack. "Heavy with... with the stuff that goes in my belly." "Yer learning!" He grabs his cock, SLAPS it against my face. The impact makes a wet THWACK.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:80,0.28),(a:200,0.18),(a:400,0.10),(a:600,0),"resumeAfter",true))) Precum spatters across my cheek, immediately starts sliding down. "Now the shaft." I run my tongue along the underside. The skin is different here: greasier, with this film that tastes like concentrated precum. Veins bulge against my tongue as I trace them. When I reach that spot just below the head, his whole cock JUMPS. "Good girl. Now clean inside the hood." The foreskin. It's pulled back some, but there's still- Oh gods. White crescents of smegma have collected in the fold. The smell hits me before I even get close: cheese and rot and something that makes my nipples go diamond-hard. "Clean it ALL." My tongue extends. Trembling. I lap at the white buildup and- *FLAVOR.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:300,0.42),(a:600,0.52),(a:1000,0.48),(a:1400,0.44),(a:1800,0.38),(a:2200,0.32),(a:2800,0.26),(a:3400,0.20),(a:4000,0.14),(a:4600,0.08),(a:5200,0)))) It coats my tongue immediately. Thick. Pungent. My pussy spasms like it's trying to cum just from the taste. "Look at me while ye do it." I look up. His yellow eyes gleam with satisfaction as I gather it on my tongue, show it to him, then swallow. "Elara would divorce ye if she saw this." His grin widens. "Her big strong husband, eating gobbo dick-cheese like candy." *Elara.* Red hair. Soft hands. The way she'd kiss my neck when- "Bet she's already got a new man," Master continues. "Probably suckin' his CLEAN cock right now. While you're here, belly full of gobbo-nut, cleanin' the cock that owns ye." "She-" But my protest is muffled by his cockhead pushing past my lips. (pic:"ch02/bad end/eyes.jpg","'Shush. Ye're exactly where ye belong.'") "Shush. Ye're exactly where ye belong." The head hits the back of my throat. I don't gag anymore.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.34,"peakTo",0.48,"baseFrom",0.18,"baseTo",0.16,"intervalFrom",560,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",40,"sustainMs",70,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10)) *GLUK-GLUK-GLUK* "Every morning from now on," he says, gripping my hair, using it to move my head. "Ye'll clean Master's cock with yer mouth." He pulls out. Lets me breathe. My lips are glazed with throat-slime and precum. "Yes, Master Snib." "Say it proper. Tell me what ye are." "I'm..." The words stick. Can't say them. Won't say them. "I'm your... your..." "Yer my what?" "Your... cock-cleaner." The admission makes my pussy FLOOD. I feel it running down both thighs now, pooling under me. (change_stat:"heroism",-5)"HARHARHAR! Getting closer! But that ain't all ye are. And ye know what happens next?" My eyes go wide. "Tonight," he says, stroking his cock lazily. "Tonight ye get the real meal. Right in that hungry cunt." "No!" The word tears from my throat. "I can't! If you cum inside me-" He stands. His cock swings, SLAPS against my face again. "But first, more chores. Gotta earn that meal." The rest of the day is torture. Every task, he's there. Watching. His cock never softens. When I bend to scrub, he stands behind me, lets his cock rest in the crack of my ass. The heat of it burns through the metal thong.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.05,"periodMs",2400,"forever",true)) "Feel that? That's what's gonna split ye open tonight." When I reach up to dust, he presses against my back, cock sliding between my thighs, the shaft rubbing against my drooling pussy.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.24,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1800,"forever",true)) "So wet. Bet I could slide right in." But he doesn't. Just teases. Makes me FEEL it. The weight. The heat. The THREAT of it. By afternoon, I'm shaking. My pussy won't stop drooling. There's a constant trail of juice wherever I go. My nipples are so hard they HURT. And the hunger- "Please," I whimper, on my knees again. "Please, I need-" "Need what?" "Food. Need food." "Only one kind of food fer ye now." He grabs his cock, shakes it. Precum flies, spatters my face. "And ye only get it ONE way now." "In... in my..." "Say it." "In my pussy." The admission breaks something in me. "You have to cum in my pussy to feed me." "That's right. And once I do?" I know the answer. Have been fighting it for days. Once goblin cum enters my womb, the corruption is complete. No going back. No Elara. No Aldric. Just- "I'll be yours," I whisper. "Louder." "I'll be yours!" "WHAT will ye be?" "I'll be your... your pet. Your breeding-pet. Your cock-cleaning, cum-drinking, goblin-owned BITCH!" (change_stat:"heroism",-5)The words echo across the desert. Snib laughs. "Tonight, then. After ye finish yer chores. Gonna pump ye so full of nut ye'll forget ye were ever anything else." He heads inside. I stay kneeling in the sand, pussy drooling, mouth watering, brain melting. *Elara.* Her face flashes in my mind. Beautiful. Pure. Everything I'm not anymore. *I'm sorry.* But even as I think it, my pussy CLENCHES again, already preparing for what's coming. Evening comes too fast and too slow. I've cleaned everything twice. The hut sparkles, as much as a mud-brick shack can sparkle. My knees are red from scrubbing. My tits are shiny with sweat, spit and precum. Master Snib lounges on his furs, cock pointing at the ceiling. "Come here." I crawl. My tits drag. My ass sways. "Ye know what time it is?" My pussy CLENCHES. Releases a fresh gush. "Feeding time," I whisper. "That's right. Come get yer meal." I approach. His cock THROBS, the head purple-black with arousal. The veins stand out like ropes. And the smell: concentrated musk that makes my brain swim. "But first," he says, "tell me what ye are. Proper this time." I kneel between his legs. Look up at him. My green eyes meeting his yellow ones. The words that come out could destroy the last of Aldric forever. (minigame:"03 mindbreak",10)

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$choice is "Fail Check")["I'm..." The words stick in my throat like goblin cum. My pussy CLENCHES. I feel it, actually FEEL the muscles inside RIPPLING from entrance to cervix in waves I can't control. Fresh juice runs down both thighs in streams that pool on the packed earth. "I'm your..." My voice has gone so HIGH. So breathy. Like I'm about to cum just from speaking. "Your pet." (change_stat:"heroism",-100)The admission SHATTERS something. "Your breeding-pet. Your cock-cleaning, cum-drinking, goblin-owned BITCH!" "HARHARHAR! FINALLY!" Snib's yellow eyes gleam with pure triumph. His cock FLEXES: the head goes from purple to BLACK, the veins bulging like ship-ropes, precum POURING in a constant stream. "Knew ye'd break! Heroes always do! Get on all fours, cow-tits! Time fer yer REAL meal!" My body moves without permission. I drop forward. *WHUMP*(playwhenread:"fall",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:100,0.25),(a:250,0.32),(a:400,0.18),(a:550,0.24),(a:700,0.12),(a:850,0.16),(a:1000,0.06),(a:1150,0)))) My tits hit the floor first: these massive fucking udders that SMASH into packed earth with enough force to make them spread sideways, the metal triangles digging DEEP into flesh that mushrooms around them. The chains jangle, *ching-ching-ching*, as they settle. My knees follow. The armor flows down my legs, encasing them in black scales from mid-thigh down. Metal on earth, *CLANK*, as I position myself. My heels point backward, spiked metal gleaming in firelight. "That's it! Proper bitch position!" My hands plant. My back ARCHES because this body KNOWS. It knows how to present. My ass rises, pushes back, the metal thong disappearing so deep between my cheeks you can't even see it anymore. Just this OBSCENE shelf of pale flesh, jiggling with each breath. "Look at ye! The great Aldric! On all fours with them udders draggin'!" I'm panting like a bitch in heat. Each exhale makes my tits sway, *swing-slap-swing-slap*, nipples scraping earth through the metal. My hair falls forward in black curtains, framing my flushed face. "Please..." The word comes out as a WHINE. High. Desperate. Nothing like Aldric's voice ever was. "Please what?" Snib circles me. His cock swings with each step, *THWAP-THWAP*, against his thighs. Precum flies in arcs, some landing on my back, immediately making my skin TINGLE where it touches. "Please... feed me." "HARHARHAR! Feed ye WHERE?" He's behind me now. I can't see him but I can SMELL him: concentrated goblin musk that makes my pussy SPASM so hard juice SQUIRTS out, audibly spattering the floor. *SPLAT* His hand, rough, warty, SLAPS my pussy.(playwhenread:"plap 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.62),(a:60,0.35),(a:150,0.20),(a:300,0.10),(a:500,0)))) "AAAHHHHHNNNNN!" The moan that tears from my throat doesn't sound human. It's this desperate, animal KEEN. My whole body jerks forward, tits dragging through dirt, ass pushing back for more. *SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.60),(a:350,0.58),(a:700,0.62),(a:850,0.35),(a:1000,0.20),(a:1200,0.10),(a:1400,0)))) Three more slaps. Each one makes my pussy GUSH. Like someone's wringing out a soaked sponge. "Listen to that sloppy hero-cunt!" His fingers hook the metal thong, pull it aside. The cool air hits my exposed pussy and I FEEL it. Feel how OPEN I am. The lips are so swollen they've parted on their own, showing pink inside. My clit has pushed out from its hood, throbbing visibly with my heartbeat. "Been three days buildin' to this," Snib says, positioning himself. His hands grab my hips, fingers SINKING into soft flesh that dimples around his grip. "Kinda wished ye'd held out longer. Thought a hero would last more than three days without beggin' for gobbo-cock!" (pic:"ch03/bad end/early fuck/prepare.jpg","His cock drops between my asscheeks.") *THWAP*(playwhenread:"cockslap",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:150,0.30),(a:400,0.22),(a:700,0.16),(a:1000,0.12),(a:1500,0.10)))) His cock drops between my asscheeks. The WEIGHT of it. Like someone laid a hot iron bar in the valley of my ass. The head reaches all the way to the small of my back, drooling precum that immediately pools there, so hot it feels like candle wax. "But turns out," he continues, sawing his cock between my cheeks, the friction makes obscene *schlick-schlick* sounds, "heroes are just meat. And meat breaks the same whether it used to swing a sword or not." The head catches on my asshole as he pulls back.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:300,0.18),(a:600,0.28),(a:800,0.40),(a:900,0.30),(a:1100,0.22),(a:1300,0.32),(a:1500,0.38)))) Just for a second. Just enough to make me CLENCH in panic. Then lower. Sliding through the wetness between my thighs. The massive purple head parts my pussy lips like curtains. "Tell me what ye want." "I want-NNNGH-I want you to-" "Want me to WHAT?" The head presses against my entrance. Just... there. I can feel my pussy TRYING to swallow it, the muscles at my entrance CLENCHING and releasing, clenching and releasing, trying to pull him in. "FUCK ME!" (change_stat:"heroism",-5)The words EXPLODE out. "FUCK YOUR PET! BREED YOUR BITCH! PUMP ME FULL OF GOBLIN CUM UNTIL I FORGET I WAS EVER-" He pushes. Just the head.(playwhenread:"insert rough",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.80),(a:100,0.60),(a:200,0.68),(a:300,0.55),(a:400,0.62),(a:500,0.52),(a:650,0.44),(a:800,0.38),(a:1000,0.34),(a:1200,0.30),(a:1500,0.28)))) My pussy STRETCHES. (hidden_gem:"Time stops.","Time stops, suspended in this single second of surrender.") (pic:"ch03/bad end/early fuck/insert.jpg") I can feel EVERY DETAIL. The way my entrance resists at first: this tiny ring of muscle that's never been penetrated trying to protect me. Then the moment it GIVES. The exact instant the ridge of his cockhead pops past that guardian ring and my pussy SWALLOWS the entire head in one gulp. "AAAAAHHHHH-FUCK-FUCK-FUUUUUUCK!" My voice goes so high it cracks. Becomes this desperate squeal that echoes off the walls. My pussy is CLAMPING on his cockhead, RIPPLING around it, trying to milk it already. "HARHARHAR! Not even an inch and yer already squealin'!" He pushes another inch.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.32),(a:400,0.38),(a:800,0.32),(a:1200,0.42),(a:1600,0.36),(a:2000,0.48),(a:2400,0.40),(a:2800,0.52),(a:3200,0.44)))) I can feel my pussy RESHAPING itself. Feel the walls stretching to accommodate something too big, feel them MOLDING around every vein, every ridge. It's like my cunt is memorizing his cock. "GAAAHHHH! TOO BIG! TOO FUCKING-NNNNGH!" Even as my mouth screams, my hips are grinding backward, trying to take MORE. My tits drag through dirt with the motion, the chains tangling, metal triangles practically falling off. Another inch. Another. I'm making sounds I didn't know I could make. These wet, desperate GURGLES like I'm drowning. Because I AM drowning, in sensation, in submission, in the feeling of being SPLIT OPEN. "Almost halfway there!" Snib Announces. Then SLAMS forward.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.82),(a:80,0.60),(a:160,0.68),(a:240,0.55),(a:350,0.48),(a:500,0.40),(a:700,0.35),(a:900,0.30),(a:1100,0.26),(a:1400,0.22)))) The entire shaft PLUNGES into me in one thrust. Twelve inches of goblin cock SPEARING through my pussy, the head PUNCHING something deep inside, my cervix, making it FLOWER open just enough that I feel the tip lodge there. "NNNNNNNNGGGGHHHHAAAAAAA!" I SCREAM like someone being murdered. Because Aldric IS being murdered. Right here. Right now. On the end of a goblin's cock. "Balls deep in hero-cunt!" His balls, those apple-sized cum-factories, SLAP against my clit. The impact makes stars explode behind my eyes. They're so HEAVY, so hot, and they're CHURNING. I can feel them WORKING against my pussy, preparing their payload. He pulls back. The withdrawal is somehow WORSE. My pussy tries to hold him, the walls CLINGING to his shaft, turning inside-out as he withdraws. The *SCHLOOOOORP* sound is so wet, so obscene, it makes me want to die of shame. Then he SLAMS back in. *PLAP* (pic:"ch03/bad end/early fuck/fucked.jpg","'AHHH-NNGH-FUCK-AHHH!'","right")"AHHH-NNGH-FUCK-AHHH!"(playwhenread:"goblin fucking rough",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.56,"peakTo",0.68,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",560,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",50,"releaseMs",85,"rampBeats",22,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.28,"depthJitter",0.10)) Each thrust drives a new sound from my throat. He's FUCKING me like what I am: a bitch. His bitch. His cock PISTONS in and out, each thrust making my whole body rock forward, tits swinging wildly. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* The sound of his hips meeting my ass. Of his balls slapping my clit. Of my pussy SQUELCHING around his cock. It fills the hut, echoes back at us, the soundtrack to my destruction. "Listen to that sloppy cunt SING!" His hands GRIP my asscheeks, fingers DIGGING in so deep they leave bruises. He SPREADS them, and I feel cold air hit my asshole, feel how EXPOSED I am. *SLAP*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.65),(a:70,0.42),(a:180,0.30),(a:350,0.20),(a:520,0.12),(a:700,0),"resumeAfter",true))) He spanks me. HARD. The impact makes my whole ass RIPPLE, waves of flesh radiating outward. "AAAHHH!" *SLAP-SLAP-SLAP*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.62),(a:400,0.60),(a:800,0.65),(a:950,0.42),(a:1100,0.30),(a:1300,0.18),(a:1500,0.08),(a:1700,0),"resumeAfter",true))) Three more. Each one makes my pussy CLENCH on his cock, makes more juice spray out around his shaft. "That's it! Squeeze Master's cock! Milk it like ye're SUPPOSED to!" My body obeys. My pussy starts RIPPLING, these waves that start at my entrance and travel deep, massaging his cock with muscles I didn't know I had. It's like my cunt has become sentient, has its own agenda: to milk goblin cum. "Gonna tell yer wife about this?" *SLAM* "GAAAAHHH!" "Gonna tell her how ye begged?" *SLAM* "NNNNNGHHH-PLEASE-" "HARHAR! Feel that? Yer body KNOWS! Knows it's gonna get bred!" He speeds up. Really HAMMERING now. Each thrust punches air from my lungs in these *"hungh-hungh-hungh"* sounds I can't control. His cock feels like it's rearranging my guts: this hot pipe of meat that's reshaping everything inside me to fit around it. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP*(playwhenread:"goblin fucking rough",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.62,"peakTo",0.72,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",420,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",26,"sustainMs",42,"releaseMs",68,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.30,"depthJitter",0.12)) My tits aren't just swinging. They're COLLIDING. Heavy milk-sacks meeting under my chest with wet *WHAP* sounds that mix with the *PLAP* of his hips against my ass. Each impact sends ripples through the soft meat. Something's building. Deep in my belly. This PRESSURE that starts where his cockhead keeps punching my cervix and radiates outward. My pussy's getting TIGHTER. I can feel it gripping him, these involuntary squeezes that make him grunt. "Nnnngh-no-not gonna-FUCK-" My fingers dig trenches in the packed earth. Every muscle from my toes to my scalp is pulling TIGHT. Like a bowstring about to snap. The pressure keeps building, building, BUILDING- "Gonna cum, ain't ye?" Snib SLAMS deep and holds there, grinding his hips in circles. His cockhead stirs my insides like a mortar and pestle. (minigame:"03 orgasm choice",10)](else:)[My mouth opens. The words are RIGHT THERE. Ready to spill out like the juice currently FLOODING from my pussy onto the floor. I'm so hungry. So fucking EMPTY. My belly feels like it's eating itself from inside. *I'm your pet. Your breeding-pet. Your cock-cleaning goblin-owned BITCH.* The words would be so easy. Would get me FED. Would get me that thick, chunky cum my body is SCREAMING for. "I'm..." His cock twitches. A rope of precum GUSHES out, lands on my cheek. The smell, concentrated breeding-musk, makes my pussy CLENCH so hard I see stars. "I'm... I'm..." *Say it. Just say it. You've already swallowed his cum. Already measured his cock. Already had your throat fucked. What's left to preserve?* "I'm..." Elara's face flashes in my mind. Red hair catching sunlight. The way she'd laugh at my jokes. The way she'd kiss my forehead when I came home from battle. "I'm... still... Aldric." The words come out as a whisper. Barely audible. But they're THERE. Snib's yellow eyes narrow. Then he LAUGHS. "HARHARHAR! Still fightin'? After three days of starvin'? After beggin' for cock? After cleanin' me dick with yer tongue?" He snaps his fingers. (playwhenread:"evening tie up")The armor FLOWS. Shadow-chains YANK my ankles toward my ears, arms behind my head. The familiar position, pussy aimed at the ceiling, drooling a steady stream. (pic:"ch03/bad end/tied up 1.jpg","'Fine! Spend another night spread wide!'") "Fine! Spend another night spread wide! See if ye change yer mind by mornin'!" He waddles to his furs, collapses. Already snoring. I hang there. My pussy won't stop LEAKING. My stomach HOWLS with hunger. But somewhere, deep inside where the collar can't reach, a tiny spark of Aldric still burns. *I didn't break. Not completely. Not yet.* Sleep comes in fragments. And when it does- (simple_option:"03 dream 4","You dream again...")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/moaning.jpg")($play:"song","corruption theme")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.65,"peakTo",0.72,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",380,"intervalTo",280,"attackMs",24,"sustainMs",38,"releaseMs",62,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.30,"depthJitter",0.12)) (playwhenread:"elise doggy orgasm",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.65),(a:350,0.78),(a:700,0.72),(a:1050,0.85),(a:1400,0.78),(a:1750,0.90),(a:2100,0.84),(a:2450,0.95),(a:2800,0.88),(a:3150,1.0),(a:3500,0.94),(a:3850,1.0),(a:4200,0.96),(a:4550,1.0),(a:4900,0.94),(a:5250,0.98),(a:5600,0.90),(a:5950,0.94),(a:6300,0.85),(a:6650,0.88),(a:7000,0.78),(a:7400,0.82),(a:7800,0.72),(a:8200,0.65),(a:8600,0.55),(a:9000,0.45),(a:9500,0.35),(a:10000,0.25),(a:10600,0.18),(a:11200,0.10),(a:12000,0))))(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[The pressure EXPLODES. "GONNA-GONNA-FUCKFUCKFUCK-YESSSSSS!" My back arches so hard I might snap. Head thrown back. Mouth wide open. And I SCREAM: "BREEDING ME! YOU'RE FUCKING BREEDING MY BRAIN! AAAAAHHHHHHH!"](else:)[I bite my lip so hard I taste copper. *Don't cum. Don't you fucking cum. You're Aldric the Great. You killed a hundred goblins. You saved villages. You have a WIFE-* "Elara..." The name escapes as a whimper. "I'm sorry-I'm sorry-I'm-" "HARHAR! Apologizin' to yer wife while yer cunt DROOLS on gobbo-cock!" He pulls almost all the way out, just the head stretching my entrance, then SLAMS back in. The impact makes my whole body lurch forward, tits dragging through dirt, leaving trails. *SCHLOOOOORP-PLAP!* "I'm sorry!" The words pour out between gasps. "I'm sorry Elara I'm sorry I can't-I can't stop-my body won't-" He does it again. That slow withdrawal, my pussy walls CLINGING to his shaft, turning inside-out, then the brutal thrust that reshapes everything. *SCHLOOOORP-WHAM!* "Please-" I'm sobbing now, actual tears mixing with sweat and dirt on my face. "Please I don't want to-not from goblin cock-not from-NNNNGH-" But my pussy doesn't care what I want. It SQUEEZES. The pressure EXPLODES. "AAAAAAHHHHH-FUCK-NO NO NO-ELARA I'M SORRY-I'M CUMMING ON GOBLIN COCK-GAAAAAAHHHHH!"] (vid:"img/ch02/bad end/early fuck/orgasm.mp4") The orgasm hits like getting struck by lightning in the cunt. My pussy CLAMPS down on his cock so hard he actually grunts in surprise. Then the contractions start: these deep, rolling waves that milk his shaft from base to tip. Each squeeze makes MORE sensation explode through me. But the worst part is the SQUIRTING. *SPLOOOOOSH*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.78),(a:250,0.30),(a:500,0.72),(a:750,0.26),(a:1000,0.68),(a:1250,0.22),(a:1500,0.62),(a:1750,0.18),(a:2000,0.55),(a:2250,0.14),(a:2500,0.48),(a:2750,0.10),(a:3000,0.38),(a:3250,0.08),(a:3500,0.28),(a:3750,0.06),(a:4000,0)))) It's a fucking GEYSER. Clear fluid EXPLODES from around his cock, spraying backward, hitting his balls with enough force to make them swing. The sound, this obscene *SPLURRRRRT*, echoes off the walls. "THERE SHE BLOWS!" He doesn't stop fucking me. Just keeps POUNDING through my orgasm(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 1",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.62,"peakTo",0.70,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",380,"intervalTo",280,"attackMs",24,"sustainMs",38,"releaseMs",60,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.28,"depthJitter",0.12)), each thrust forcing out another spray of pussy juice. The wet sounds get WORSE: not just *plap* but *SPLORCH-SQUISH-SPLASH* as he churns through the mess I'm making. "UNNNGH-STILL-STILL CUMMING-CAN'T STOP-" My arms give out. Face plants in the dirt. Ass stays up only because Snib's holding my hips, using them as handles while he rails me. The new angle means my tits are COMPLETELY flattened against the ground, spreading out like spilled batter. The first orgasm hasn't even ENDED when the second one starts building. "No-too sensitive-can't-AAAHHHHH!" This one's different. Deeper. It starts in my BONES. My whole skeleton feels like it's vibrating. My pussy gets so tight around his cock I can feel every vein, every ridge, the way his pulse makes it throb inside me. "Please-" But I don't know what I'm begging for anymore. For him to stop? To keep going? To- *SCHLORP* He pulls almost all the way out again. But this time, when he thrusts back in, something's different. The angle. The depth. The way his cockhead presses against my cervix and- *PLOP* It pushes THROUGH. Time stops. I can feel it happening in slow motion. My cervix, that guardian gate that's supposed to stay closed, DILATING around his cockhead. The ring of muscle stretching, stretching, then suddenly ACCEPTING him. The head pops through into someplace it should NEVER be. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","left","My womb. He's in my womb.")"GAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" The scream that tears from my throat doesn't sound human. It's this raw, animal HOWL. Because he's not just in my pussy anymore. He's in my WOMB. "HARHARHAR! THERE WE GO! Right in the baby-chamber!" I can FEEL the difference. The texture changes: my womb is softer, more delicate, never meant to be touched like this. His cockhead is DIRECTLY inside my most sacred space, the one I should have never even HAD, and it's THROBBING. "Feel that?" He grinds his hips, stirring his cockhead around inside my womb. "That's where gobbo-babies grow!" *PLOP*(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.92),(a:80,0.98),(a:200,0.94),(a:400,0.82),(a:700,0.74),(a:1000,0.70),(a:1400,0.74),(a:1800,0.68),(a:2200,0.72),(a:2600,0.66),(a:3000,0.62),(a:3500,0.58),(a:4000,0.55),(a:5000,0.52))))*SCHLORP-PLOP* He starts fucking my actual WOMB. Each thrust makes his cockhead push through my cervix with this wet *POP* sound. The sensation is... I don't have words. It's like being fucked in my SOUL. Every thrust sends shockwaves through my entire body. "All them goblins ye killed-" *PLOP* "-Grotch-" *PLOP* "-Skitter-" *PLOP* "-Pustule-" *PLOP* "-ye're gonna REPLACE 'em all!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.60,"amplitude",0.14,"periodMs",1400,"forever",true)) My mouth hangs open, drool running into the dirt. My eyes roll back so far I see white. And my pussy... my pussy is having these continuous micro-orgasms. Not big ones, just these constant little *squirt-squirt-squirts* with each womb-thrust. "Gonna pump ye FULL! Right in the baby-bag! Every drop gonna go straight where it counts!" His cock starts to SWELL. EXPAND. The head inside my womb is inflating like someone's pumping air into it. Getting wider. WIDER. "What-what's happening-" "Lockin' ye up! Gobbo specialty!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.68),(a:500,0.72),(a:1000,0.76),(a:1500,0.80),(a:2000,0.82),(a:2500,0.80),(a:3000,0.78),(a:3500,0.76),(a:4000,0.74)))) I try to pull forward but, OH FLUX, I can't! His cockhead has swollen so much inside my womb that it CAN'T fit back through my cervix! I'm IMPALED! Trapped on goblin cock like a fish on a hook! "NO! NO PLEASE! NOT-" "HERE IT COMES!" His balls, those apple-sized cum-factories that have been slapping my clit, suddenly pull up TIGHT against the base of his cock. So tight they feel like stones. His whole body goes rigid. His fingers dig into my hips hard enough to leave bruises. And then I feel it.(playwhenread:"goblin wild internal cumshot",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.50),(a:1500,0.55),(a:3000,0.60),(a:4500,0.66),(a:6000,0.72),(a:7500,0.78),(a:9000,0.82),(a:10500,0.85),(a:12000,0.82),(a:13500,0.78),(a:15000,0.72),(a:16500,0.65),(a:18000,0.58),(a:20000,0.48),(a:22000,0.38),(a:24000,0.28),(a:26000,0.18),(a:28000,0.10),(a:30000,0)))) A warmth that starts at the center of my womb and spreads outward. Then another wave of heat. Another. He's cumming DIRECTLY into my womb. Each pulse of his cock sends another wave of that spreading warmth. I can't feel the individual ropes, it's too deep, too internal, but I can feel my womb FILLING. Like someone's slowly pouring hot soup directly into my CORE. "TAKE ALL ME GOBBO-BATTER!" *Inside my womb.* The warmth keeps spreading. More. MORE. Then it turns to HEAT. Then to BURNING. Not painful, but this intense sensation of being FILLED in a place that should never be filled. His cockhead is SEALED inside my womb, that mushroom-flare too wide to pull back through my cervix, making sure not a SINGLE DROP escapes. "Feel yer womb drinkin' gobbo-nut?" I do. Ephemerals help me, I DO. It's like my womb is SWALLOWING. These little contractions that pull his cum deeper, spread it around, make sure every surface is coated. My body is HELPING him breed me. Finally, FINALLY, after what feels like hours, the pulsing stops. His cock starts to soften. The swollen head begins deflating inside my womb. *SCHLOOOOOOOOORP*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.65),(a:500,0.55),(a:1000,0.48),(a:1500,0.40),(a:2000,0.35),(a:2500,0.28),(a:3000,0.22),(a:3500,0.16),(a:4000,0.10),(a:4500,0.06),(a:5000,0)))) He pulls out in one long, obscene slide. The moment his cockhead pops free from my cervix- (sperm:"SPLOOOOOOSH",5,"splurt 1")The cum EXPLODES out of me. It FLOODS. (pic:"ch03/bad end/early fuck/creampie.jpg") Thick, yellow-white SLUDGE pours from my gaped pussy in a continuous stream. It's so THICK, like porridge with chunks in it. The smell hits immediately: concentrated goblin breeding-stench that makes my eyes water. I can see it between my spread legs. This RIVER of cum running down my thighs, pooling under me. So much. SO FUCKING MUCH. How did it all FIT inside me? "HARHARHAR! Look at that cream-pie! Proper BREEDIN' load! Ye'll be eatin' great tonight!" My pussy is BROKEN. I can feel it gaping open, unable to close, just this empty hole drooling goblin cum. My insides feel so... different. Warm. Densely packed. Like the cum has irreparably changed something about me. And the worst part? My tongue is hanging out. My eyes are rolled back. And my pussy is STILL squirting. Little spurts of clear juice mixing with the river of cum. Because my body LOVED IT. Every second of being bred like the bitch I've become. "There we go," Snib pants, cock softening but still drooling. "Proper meal for ye ta lick up after! Gonna sleep good tonight, cow-tits?" I can't answer. Can only lie there in a puddle of mixed cum and pussy juice, feeling his seed slowly drain from my conquered womb, knowing that my future has changed FOREVER. Knowing that I WANTED it to. (simple_option:"03 pet","Your life is over...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")($play:"song","nightmare goblin jig")(playwhenread:"eleek moans 1",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.48,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",320,"attackMs",40,"sustainMs",50,"releaseMs",70,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.30,"depthJitter",0.10))(vid:"img/ch03/bad end/eleek/riding.mp4") ($play:"sex loop","sex no moan")Three feet of green fuckmeat bouncing on burgundy sheets. These gobbo-tits, these massive green melons, they're bigger than my head. When I move they slosh like wineskins full to bursting. "HARDER! HARDER! ELEEK NEEDS IT HARDER!" The words tear from my throat before I can stop them. My voice is this high, desperate squeal. He flips me onto my back, spreading my legs so wide my hips ACHE, and this human merchant- *SLAM*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.58),(a:80,0.40),(a:200,0.48),(a:350,0.35),(a:500,0.28),(a:700,0.22),(a:900,0.18),"resumeAfter",true))) (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/fold back.jpg","*SLAM*") His cock PUNCHES into me. Like a fist through wet paper. "NNNNNYAAAHHH!" The sound I make is pure ANIMAL. His cock is rearranging me. I can FEEL my insides shifting, organs moving aside to make room for human meat. "That's it, greenie," he grunts. "Take it like the toilet you are." (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/ahegao 1.jpg","'That's it, greenie. Take it like the toilet you are.'") *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* His balls SLAP my ass with each thrust. They're so HEAVY. Full of cum that's going to-going to- "ELEEK IS A TOILET!" I scream. "ELEEK IS WHERE YOU PUT YOUR WASTE!" (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/mating press.jpg","'ELEEK IS A TOILET!'") *Where did that come from?* But my mouth keeps going: "USE ELEEK'S HOLES FOR DUMPING! ELEEK IS JUST A PLACE TO LEAVE LOADS!" He flips me into doggystyle, and grabs my ears. Uses them like HANDLES. Pulls me onto his cock harder, deeper, until I feel him in my CHEST. (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/doggy ears.jpg","'Your brain's smaller than my balls.'") "Your brain's smaller than my balls," he says conversationally. "Probably why gobbo girls are so good at taking dick. Nothing up there to get in the way." "ELEEK'S BRAIN IS EMPTY!" I agree, even as some tiny part of me screams. "JUST AIR AND CUM-THOUGHTS! ELEEK THINKS WITH HER HOLES!" *SQUELCH-SQUELCH-SQUELCH* (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/doggy 1.jpg","'ELEEK'S BRAIN IS EMPTY!'") My pussy makes these obscene sounds. Like stirring thick porridge. Like a boot stuck in mud. Every thrust pushes out more juice that SPLASHES on the sheets. (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/elara sitting.jpg","right","*Elara.*")"Watch this," he says to someone. I turn my head. *Elara.* She's sitting in a chair, wearing her healer's robes, looking at me with this expression of mild disgust. Like she's watching someone clean a chamberpot. "Watch me make your husband cum his brains out," the merchant tells her. "*Her* brains," Elara corrects. "That's not my husband. That's just a goblin whore named Eleek." He shifts angle. His cockhead drags across something inside me and- *OH FLUX OH EON OH-* (playwhenread:"eleek orgasm 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.50),(a:350,0.62),(a:700,0.55),(a:1050,0.68),(a:1400,0.62),(a:1750,0.72),(a:2100,0.65),(a:2450,0.70),(a:2800,0.60),(a:3200,0.52),(a:3600,0.42),(a:4000,0.32),(a:4500,0.22),(a:5000,0.14),(a:5500,0))))"GAAAHHHHHHH!" The first orgasm hits like getting kicked by a horse. Every muscle from ribs to knees SEIZES. My pussy MILKS, trying to pull sperm that isn't there yet. And I SQUIRT. A fucking GEYSER that arcs through the air and splashes Elara's shoes. "Disgusting," she says, not even moving. "Goblins always make such a mess." (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/doggy orgasm.jpg","The first orgasm hits like getting kicked by a horse.") "ELEEK SORRY! ELEEK CAN'T CONTROL HER STUPID HOLE!" (playwhenread:"eleek moans 2")The merchant doesn't stop. Keeps POUNDING. His cock makes this wet SCHLORP sound every time he pulls back because my pussy creates suction trying to keep him in. "Tell your wife what you are," he orders. "ELEEK IS FUCK-FURNITURE!" The words pour out like vomit. "ELEEK IS A THREE-HOLED COCK-COZY! WHEN YOU'RE DONE ELEEK GOES BACK IN THE CLOSET!" *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* "More specific," he grunts, SLAMMING deep. "Tell her about your purpose." "ELEEK'S PURPOSE IS MAKING COCKS FEEL GOOD! ELEEK'S HOLES ARE FOR WARMING DICKS!" (hidden_gem:"My brain feels like it's melting out my ears.","My brain bubbles and breaks, boiling out both big green ears.") He yanks my ears HARDER. Uses them to lift my head off the pillow, my upper body into the air, my whole weight supported by cartilage. It should hurt but instead- (playwhenread:"eleek orgasm 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:350,0.68),(a:700,0.62),(a:1050,0.75),(a:1400,0.68),(a:1750,0.78),(a:2100,0.72),(a:2450,0.76),(a:2800,0.65),(a:3200,0.55),(a:3600,0.45),(a:4000,0.35),(a:4500,0.25),(a:5000,0.15),(a:5500,0))))"HNNNNGH-AAAAHHHH!" Second orgasm. This one starts in my SPINE and radiates outward. My back arches so hard I hear vertebrae pop. My tits BOUNCE and slap together, *WHAP-WHAP-WHAP*, and I'm spraying again. Longer this time. A fucking dragon's belch of pussy juice that makes the merchant laugh. "Look at that! She's marking territory like an animal!" (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/elara mock.png","'Look at that! She's marking territory like an animal!'") "ELEEK IS AN ANIMAL! DOMESTICATED BREEDING STOCK!" Elara stands, walks closer. Looks down at me with those beautiful eyes I used to get lost in. "You sucked goblin cock for gold coins," she says simply. "Now you ARE a goblin getting fucked for copper." (playwhenread:"eleek moans 3")"ELEEK WORTH LESS THAN COPPER! ELEEK FREE-USE! ELEEK-" He adjusts. Pushes DEEPER. I feel his cockhead kiss something deep inside- "ATTENTION ALL CUSTOMERS!" *What?* Suddenly there's a crowd. The room expands. Merchants, guards, other whores all watching. The human on top of me keeps fucking but now he's NARRATING: "Watch as this goblin toilet experiences the honor of human breeding!" "BREED ELEEK'S GOBBO-CUNT!" *Stop saying these things!* But I can't stop: "PUMP ELEEK FULL OF SUPERIOR HUMAN BABIES! ELEEK'S WOMB IS JUST A **BROOD-CHAMBER**!" His thrusts get HARDER. Each one lifts my ass off the bed. The PLAP-PLAP-PLAP of his balls gets louder, echoing off the walls. "She's about to break," he announces. "Watch her mind shatter." "ELEEK'S MIND ALREADY BROKEN! JUST MEAT AND FUCK-THOUGHTS NOW!" But that's not true. There's still part of me fighting, still Aldric somewhere deep inside watching this green body get DESTROYED and- I'm on my back again. He pulls my ears so hard I'm basically folded in half. My own pussy juice drips onto my face. I can SMELL myself: honey and musk and desperate animal need. "Last chance," he says. "Tell everyone your real name." "ELEEK IS-" *No. Fight it. You're Aldric. You're-* "ELEEK USED TO THINK SHE WAS SOMEONE SPECIAL!" *Stop!* "ELEEK HAD A WIFE! A LIFE! A SWORD!" *Don't say it!* "BUT ELEEK SUCKED GOBBO COCK FOR GOLD AND NOW-" He SLAMS so deep I see stars. Feel his cockhead ENTER my womb.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.75),(a:80,0.82),(a:200,0.78),(a:400,0.70),(a:700,0.65),(a:1000,0.62),(a:1500,0.58),(a:2000,0.55)))) That sacred space meant for creating life now just another hole for human pleasure. "GAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" (simple_option:"03 break","Third orgasm.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")(playwhenread:"eleek orgasm 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.60),(a:350,0.72),(a:700,0.68),(a:1050,0.80),(a:1400,0.74),(a:1750,0.85),(a:2100,0.78),(a:2450,0.82),(a:2800,0.72),(a:3200,0.62),(a:3600,0.52),(a:4000,0.42),(a:4500,0.32),(a:5000,0.22),(a:5500,0.12),(a:6000,0))))(pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/orgasm.jpg","right","This one breaks something.")($play:"sex loop","sex no moan")Third orgasm. This one breaks something. I feel it SHATTER inside me. Some barrier between who I was and what I'm becoming. My pussy SPASMS so hard the merchant has to grab my hips to keep fucking. The squirting isn't a geyser now. It's a fucking FLOOD. Continuous spray that soaks everything. "ELEEK'S CUMMING HER BRAINS OUT! ELEEK'S THOUGHTS ARE LEAKING FROM HER FUCK-HOLE!" And it FEELS like that. Like every squirt takes another memory. Another piece of Aldric dissolving in pussy juice. "ELEEK FORGETS HER OLD NAME!" *Squirt* "ELEEK FORGETS HOW TO HOLD SWORDS!" *Squirt* "ELEEK ONLY KNOWS HOW TO HOLD COCKS NOW!" (playwhenread:"eleek orgasm 3",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.70),(a:250,0.28),(a:500,0.65),(a:750,0.24),(a:1000,0.60),(a:1250,0.20),(a:1500,0.55),(a:1750,0.16),(a:2000,0.48),(a:2250,0.12),(a:2500,0.40),(a:2750,0.08),(a:3000,0.32),(a:3250,0.06),(a:3500,0.22),(a:3750,0.04),(a:4000,0))))(pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/doggy squirt.jpg","*SQUIIIIIIRT*") *SQUIIIIIIRT* "That's four orgasms," Elara observes. "Typical for a goblin. They're built for continuous breeding." "ELEEK'S A WALKING WOMB!" The merchant grunts. His cock SWELLS inside me. I feel it getting thicker, harder, the veins bulging against my walls. "Here it comes," he announces. "The moment she becomes property." "ELEEK ALREADY PROPERTY! ELEEK BELONGS TO WHOEVER'S CURRENTLY INSIDE!" "Then who owns you now?" "YOU DO!" "And when I pull out?" "NOBODY! ELEEK BECOMES UNCLAIMED TERRITORY!" "And what happens to unclaimed territory?" "IT GETS COLONIZED BY THE NEXT COCK!" He GRUNTS. I feel his balls CONTRACT against my ass. Feel the cum traveling up his shaft like a fist through a sleeve. Feel it building at the tip and- (playwhenread:"eleek creampie",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:1000,0.62),(a:2000,0.68),(a:3000,0.72),(a:4000,0.68),(a:5000,0.65),(a:6000,0.60),(a:7000,0.55),(a:8000,0.48),(a:9000,0.40),(a:10000,0.32),(a:11000,0.24),(a:12000,0.16),(a:13000,0.08),(a:14000,0))))"PAINT ELEEK'S INSIDES! MARK YOUR TERRITORY! MAKE ELEEK'S WOMB YOUR PERSONAL-" (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/doggy creampie.jpg") The first rope BLASTS into my womb with actual force. Hot as cooking oil. Thick as porridge. I feel it SPLASHING against my walls, pooling in my deepest parts. "HHHNNNNNNNNGGGGAAAAAAHHHHH!" Fifth orgasm. No. Not an orgasm. A complete rewrite. My consciousness FRAGMENTS. Becomes multiple voices all screaming at once: The warrior: *THIS ISN'T ME!* The woman: *IT FEELS SO GOOD!* The goblin: *ELEEK LOVES CUM!* The toilet: *DEPOSIT MORE WASTE!* All four voices SCREAM together as rope after rope pumps into me. I watch my belly SWELL, inflating like a balloon as he dumps what feels like a gallon of cum directly into my womb. "ELEEK IS PREGNANT WITH CUM! ELEEK'S BABY IS JUST A BALL OF SEMEN!" My hands go to my swelling belly, RUBBING it like it's precious. Like this load of human nut is the greatest gift anyone's ever given me. (playwhenread:"eleek endless moans")(pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/elara gaze.jpg","'You've shown me what my husband really was all along.'") "Thank you," Elara says to the merchant. "You've shown me what my husband really was all along." "ELEEK WAS ALWAYS A TOILET! JUST PRETENDING TO BE PEOPLE!" The merchant pulls out. *SPLOOOOOOSH* Cum FLOODS from my gaping pussy. Thick white rivers running down my ass, pooling under me. But also- "ELEEK STILL CUMMING! CAN'T STOP! BRAIN BROKEN!" Sixth orgasm. Seventh. They're CONTINUOUS now. One rolling into the next. My pussy spraying like a broken fountain while cum leaks out. The two fluids mixing on the sheets, white and clear, making this disgusting soup that I'm lying in. (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/gangbang.jpg","The two fluids mixing on the sheets, white and clear, making this disgusting soup that I'm lying in.") "Someone else want a turn?" the merchant asks the crowd. "PLEASE! ELEEK NEEDS MORE! ELEEK'S OTHER HOLES ARE EMPTY!" Hands grab me. Flip me. Suddenly I'm on my knees, ass up, face down in the cum-soaked sheets. A new cock presses against my asshole. "THANK YOU FOR USING ELEEK'S SHIT-HOLE! ELEEK'S ASS IS JUST ANOTHER PLACE TO DUMP LOADS!" It pushes in. No prep. No warning. just RAMS into my ass and I- "GGGGLLLLAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Eighth orgasm. This one makes me SCREAM into the mattress. My pussy GUSHES while my ass gets stretched, filled, CLAIMED. The sound it makes, *SQUELCH-PLOP-SQUELCH*, mixed with my muffled screaming. "Listen to her," Elara says. "She's finally happy." "MMMMPH-ELEEK-MMPH-HAPPY-MMPH-BEING-MMPH-FUCKED!" Each thrust makes me squirt. Like he's pumping a button that activates my pussy. Press. *SQUIRT*. Press. *SQUIRT*. Press. *SQUIIIIRT*. "ELEEK'S HOLES ARE SYNCHRONIZED! FUCK ONE, THEY ALL CUM!" (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/finale.jpg","left")Someone grabs my ears. Pulls my head up. Another cock in my face. Human. Thick. Dripping. "THANK YOU FOR THE MEAL!" I swallow it. The whole thing. Straight down my throat like I'm a sword swallower at a fair. Except the sword is cock and the fair is a whorehouse and I'm- "MMMMMPH-ELEEK-ISH-GLLLRK-TOILET-GAAAAWK!" Both cocks fucking me now. Ass and throat. Meeting in the middle somewhere around my stomach. I'm just a finger trap made of green meat. Ninth orgasm. This one's different. Starts in my BRAIN. Like the cock in my throat is fucking my thoughts directly. Each thrust makes me stupider. Makes me more hole, less person. "GWAAAAK-ELEEK'S-GLORK-THOUGHTS-GLUK-LEAKING!" And I'm STILL SQUIRTING. The cock in my ass presses something that makes my pussy GEYSER again. The man fucking my throat LAUGHS and it vibrates through his shaft into my skull. "Your wife was right," he tells someone. "This thing was never human." "GWAK-GWAK-NEVER-GLORK-HUMAN!" They cum simultaneously. Ass and throat flooded at the same moment. I feel the cum MEET in my stomach. Feel it mixing with the load I swallowed yesterday. Feel my belly swelling AGAIN. Tenth orgasm. No. Not tenth. Just... orgasm. Continuous. My pussy has become a fountain that won't turn off. The squirting isn't in spurts anymore. It's a CONSTANT STREAM. Like I'm pissing pleasure. Like my entire purpose is to spray pussy juice while getting fucked. (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/cumdump 4.jpg","My brain feels like soup.") "ELEEK IS BROKEN! ELEEK IS FINALLY COMPLETELY PERFECTLY BROKEN!" They pull out. More cum FLOODING from both holes. I collapse in the mess, twitching, still cumming, still squirting. My brain feels like soup. Warm cum-soup sloshing in my skull. "Anyone else?" someone asks. But then Elara speaks: "No. Leave her like that. Let her marinate in what she's become." I'm lying there. Green body in a pool of cum and pussy juice. Still having rolling orgasms that make me twitch and spray. My mouth hanging open, drooling. My ass gaping. My pussy DESTROYED. "Eleek..." I whisper to the mattress. "Eleek is finally... what she was meant to be..." "What's that?" Elara asks, leaning down. "A hole," I whisper. "Just... a warm hole for cocks. That's all. Nothing more. Eleek understands now. Eleek was never a person. Just three holes pretending." She smiles. It's the smile she used to give me when I came home from adventures. Proud. Loving. (pic:"ch03/bad end/eleek/cumdump 5.jpg","'Good girl. You finally figured it out.'") "Good girl," she says. "You finally figured it out." And as she says it, one final orgasm- *GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH-* (simple_option:"03 wake","Wake up.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/defeated/1.png")($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","snib hut theme")($play:"sex loop",0)(playwhenread:"wake up gasp lewd",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.65),(a:500,0.55),(a:1000,0.60),(a:1500,0.50),(a:2000,0.55),(a:2500,0.45),(a:3000,0.50),(a:3500,0.40),(a:4000,0.45),(a:4500,0.35),(a:5000,0.38),(a:5500,0.30),(a:6000,0.32),(a:6500,0.24),(a:7000,0.26),(a:7500,0.18),(a:8000,0.20),(a:8500,0.14),(a:9000,0.16),(a:9500,0.10),(a:10000,0.12),(a:10500,0.06),(a:11000,0.08),(a:11500,0.04),(a:12000,0))))(pic:"ch03/bad end/tied up wet.jpg") *GASP* I wake SQUEALING. My whole body convulsing. Still cumming from the dream. The shadow-chains hold me spread and I can see- *Oh Flux* STREAKS across the floor. Long, glistening trails of pussy juice from where I've been SQUIRTING in my sleep. MASSIVE arcs of fluid that reach all the way to the wall. The ground beneath me is SOAKED. A puddle spreading outward.(playwhenread:"been watching ye for an hour",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:300,0.12),(a:600,0.18),(a:900,0.10),(a:1200,0.14),(a:1500,0.06),(a:1800,0.10),(a:2100,0.04),(a:2400,0.06),(a:2700,0.02),(a:3000,0)))) I'm still gushing. Still cumming. Each clench sends another spray that I watch arc through the air and SPLAT against the packed earth. "HARHARHAR! Listen to her squeal!" Snib's standing over me. Morning light through the gaps. His cock out, hard, drooling precum onto my face. "Been watchin' ye for an hour! Screamin' 'ELEEK IS A TOILET! ELEEK IS HOLES!' while squirtin' like a fountain! Look at this mess!" (playwhenread:"heartbeat",(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",800,"forever",true))He's right. The entire floor is DRENCHED. I've turned his hut into a swamp of pussy juice. The smell, honey and musk and desperation, fills everything. "Must've been some dream!" He strokes his cock lazily. A rope of precum lands on my cheek. "What was it about?" My armor slides back into place, and I stand up, shakily. "Please," I whimper. "Please, Master Snib." "Please what?" I look at him. At his cock. Twelve inches of purple breeding-meat that my dream-mind knows exactly how it would feel inside me. Stretching me. Filling me. FEEDING me. The dream broke something that can't be fixed. I'm not Aldric anymore. Not completely. "Please..." My voice is tiny. Defeated. "Just... fuck me." (vid:"img/ch03/bad end/please fuck me.mp4","playwhenvisible")(simple_option:"03 grins","He grins.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/defeated/1.png")($play:'sex loop',0)(playwhenread:"please fuck me")He grins. Yellow teeth gleaming. "What's that? Couldn't hear ye!" (change_stat:"heroism",-100)I hang my head. Tears running down my cheeks, mixing with dried pussy juice from my own squirting. "Please fuck me, Master Snib. I need... I need you to cum in my pussy. I need you to feed me. I can't... I can't fight anymore." "And what are ye?" The words that wouldn't come yesterday pour out now: "I'm your pet. Your breeding-pet. Your cock-cleaning, cum-drinking, goblin-owned SLAVE." The admission echoes across the desert. *Elara, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.* But even her name feels distant now. Like something from someone else's life. All that matters is the hunger. And the massive goblin cock that's going to fill it. Snib snaps his fingers, and my chains re-appear.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:150,0.22),(a:350,0.28),(a:500,0.16),(a:650,0.22),(a:800,0.12),(a:1000,0.08),(a:1200,0)))) "Then, we're gonna do this the way I've been thinkin' about..." (pic:"ch03/bad end/tied up final.jpg") (simple_option:"03 continue","He feeds you.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/defeated/1.png")($play:"sex loop","heartbeat")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",900,"forever",true))(pic:"ch03/bad end/final fuck/insert.jpg","right","The head PARTS my lips but doesn't enter. Just... kisses them.")Snib's yellow eyes gleam as he waddles between my forcibly spread legs. From this angle, looking through the valley of my own heaving tits, I can see every detail of his approach. That purple fuck-club swings between his legs, the head so engorged it's gone BLACK at the edges. Veins thick as my fingers rope around the shaft, each one PULSING with goblin blood. The slit gapes and closes like a mouth trying to speak, drooling thick ropes of precum that hang like stalactites before breaking and splattering on the floor. "Finally broke ye," he says, positioning himself. His height means his cock is level with my spread cunt. "The mighty Aldric, beggin' fer gobbo dick." Tears stream down my cheeks. Real tears. "Please," I whimper again, and my voice cracks like a pubescent boy's. "I need... I need you to feed me." He grabs his cock with both hands, it takes both to control it, and brings the head to my pussy lips. Just... rests it there. The heat of it against my sopping entrance makes me GASP.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:400,0.18),(a:800,0.24),(a:1200,0.28),(a:1600,0.30),(a:2000,0.32),(a:2400,0.30),(a:2800,0.32),(a:3200,0.34),(a:3600,0.32)))) "Look at me," he orders. I force my eyes to meet his. Yellow meeting green. Monster meeting broken hero. "Tell me what this is," he says, pressing just slightly. The head PARTS my lips but doesn't enter. Just... kisses them. My cunt literally KISSES his cockhead, the lips spreading to accommodate just the tip. "It's..." My voice is barely a whisper. "It's your cock." "And what's it about to do?" The pressure increases. Maybe half an inch of cockhead inside now. My pussy lips stretch around it, creating this obscene O that mirrors my gasping mouth. "It's going to..." I sob. "It's going to fuck me. It's going to-AAAHHH!" He pushes. Just the head. Just the PURPLE MUSHROOM CAP sliding past my entrance and- *SQUELCH*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:80,0.55),(a:180,0.62),(a:300,0.50),(a:450,0.45),(a:600,0.40),(a:800,0.38),(a:1000,0.36),(a:1200,0.34)))) The sound my pussy makes. SLOPPY. Like stirring thick porridge. Like a boot in mud. The head pops inside and my cunt CLAMPS around it, trying to pull it deeper. "NNNNNNGGGGHHHH!" (playwhenread:"thats just the head",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.36),(a:1800,0.42),(a:2000,0.36),(a:3600,0.48),(a:3800,0.40),(a:5400,0.54),(a:5600,0.46),(a:7200,0.60),(a:7400,0.52),(a:9000,0.65),(a:9200,0.56),(a:10800,0.70),(a:11000,0.60),(a:12600,0.74),(a:12800,0.64),(a:14400,0.78),(a:14600,0.68),(a:16200,0.82),(a:16400,0.72),(a:18000,0.86),(a:18200,0.76),(a:19800,0.90),(a:20000,0.80),(a:21600,0.92),(a:21800,0.85))))"That's just the head," Snib grins, holding perfectly still. The muscles inside are RIPPLING, undulating, trying to milk him deeper. I can feel every ridge of his corona, feel how it flares inside me, locking us together already. "I'm going to push in real slow," he says, maintaining eye contact. He pushes. One inch. "AAAHHHH-FUUUCK!" My back arches as much as the chains allow. The shadow-bonds suddenly SHIFT. Not releasing but ADJUSTING. My ankles spread WIDER, pulled further apart, opening my pelvis to accommodate him. "See that?" Snib grins. "The magic knows ye need more room fer gobbo cock." Two inches. The shaft is so THICK. Thicker than the head somehow. My pussy walls stretch around it, and I can feel every vein, every ridge. Feel them DRAGGING against my inner walls as he slowly feeds himself into me. "Nnnnngh-sob-please-ahhhhh!" I'm crying and moaning simultaneously. Tears and drool running down my face as pleasure and shame fight for dominance. This is it. This is me getting FUCKED for the first time. Not making love. Not having sex. Getting FUCKED by a goblin I used to kill for sport. It's different. Three inches. The chains adjust again, pulling my legs until my knees are by my ears, tilting my pelvis up to create a straighter path for his cock. "Feel that?" Snib's hands go to my inner thighs, spreading me even wider. "That's yer guts learnin' their new shape. The shape of me cock." Four inches. "OH FLUX-OH EON-NNNNGGAAAHHH!" (playwhenread:"i aint even halfway")My pussy SPASMS like it's having a seizure. Juice SPRAYS around his shaft, squirting out in little jets with each clench. "HARHARHAR! I ain't even halfway!" Five inches. My tits bounce with each shuddering breath, SLAPPING into my face. The chains have pulled me so tight that my own udders are hitting my chin and cheeks, blocking my view. All I can see between them is Snib's face, grinning down at me as he slowly impales me. (vid:"img/ch03/bad end/final fuck/insert.mp4","left")"Please-sob-I can't-it's too-AAAHHH!" Six inches. I feel organs sliding aside to make room for goblin cock. My bladder gets compressed, making me feel like I'm going to piss myself. "NNNNGH-FUCK-I'M-" The words come out as squeals. High-pitched BITCH sounds. Seven inches. His balls are getting closer. I can FEEL their heat radiating against my ass crack. Those apple-sized cum-factories swaying with each push, HEAVY with the seed that's going to- "Feel that?" Snib grunts, holding still. "That's yer guts learnin' their place." My pussy walls are RIPPLING around him. Like a throat trying to swallow. Like my cunt has become a second mouth and it's trying to GULP his cock deeper. Eight inches. "GAAAHHHHH-MASTER-I CAN'T-" My ankles DANGLE in the air, chains rattling as my whole body shakes. The cock inside me is pressing against things that shouldn't be pressed. I can feel it through my BELLY. When I look down past my flopping tits, I can see the BULGE of him inside me. The outline of his shaft distending my flat stomach. Nine inches. His balls make first contact. Just the bottom of his sack brushing my ass crack. The wrinkled, hairy skin is WET with sweat and precum that's been dripping down. The touch makes me CONVULSE. "Almost there, cow-tits," Snib says, still looking into my eyes. "Three more inches." *Three more? Where will they GO?* Ten inches. The pressure is EVERYWHERE. I can feel his cock pressing against my fucking SPINE through my guts. The head is so deep it must be past my belly button on the inside. My pussy lips are stretched paper-thin around the base of his shaft. His balls press harder against my ass. Not fully seated but RESTING there, the weight of them incredible. They're CHURNING. I can feel movement inside the sack as they prepare their load. "Gonna bottom out in yer baby-room," Snib says. Eleven inches. "NNNNNNNNGGGGGHHHHHAAAAAHHHHH!" Something between a SOB and an ORGASM tears from my throat. His cockhead is pressing against something deep inside. A wall. A barrier. My cervix. "There it is," Snib grins. "The door to yer womb. Sealed tight. But not fer long." TWELVE INCHES. His balls SLAM against my ass with a wet PLAP. The impact makes them spread across my cheeks, and I feel every wrinkle of his sack, every wiry hair, the way they're PULSING with seed. He's FULLY HILTED. (simple_option:"03 fucked","Get fucked.")

($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.82,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",800,"forever",true))My pussy lips are mashed against his pubes, which are already soaked with my juice. The cock inside me is so deep I swear I can taste it. Like it's pushing my organs up into my throat. The pressure against my cervix is CONSTANT, his cockhead kissing that final barrier. "There we go," Snib says, not moving. Just... enjoying. "Balls deep in a hero's cunt." He shifts slightly, just a tiny adjustment, and his cock TWITCHES inside me. That's all it takes. "GAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.92),(a:300,0.82),(a:600,0.88),(a:900,0.80),(a:1200,0.86),(a:1500,0.78),(a:1800,0.84),(a:2100,0.75),(a:2400,0.80),(a:2700,0.70),(a:3000,0.75),(a:3300,0.62),(a:3600,0.68),(a:3900,0.55),(a:4200,0.60),(a:4500,0.48),(a:4800,0.52),(a:5100,0.42),(a:5400,0.46),(a:5700,0.36),(a:6000,0.40),(a:6300,0.30),(a:6600,0.34),(a:6900,0.24),(a:7200,0.28),(a:7500,0.20),(a:7800,0.22),(a:8100,0.16),(a:8400,0.18),(a:8700,0.12),(a:9000,0.14),(a:9300,0.08),(a:9600,0.10),(a:10000,0.06),(a:10500,0)))) (pic:"ch03/bad end/final fuck/hilted squirt.jpg","The first orgasm hits like getting kicked in the cunt by a horse.") The first orgasm hits like getting kicked in the cunt by a horse. Every muscle from ribs to knees SEIZES. My pussy doesn't squeeze. It MILKS. The walls undulate in waves from entrance to cervix, massaging his entire length. "HARHARHAR! Cummin' just from havin' gobbo meat inside!" He's right. He hasn't even FUCKED me yet. Just slowly pushed inside until his balls rest against my ass, his cock fully sheathed, and I'm- "NNNNNGH-AAAHHH-FUUUUCK!" Squirting. GUSHING around his shaft. The chains rattle as my whole body convulses, ankles dangling, tits flopping into my face with each spasm. "Smoothie's sayin' hello to its new master," Snib observes, still not moving. His cock twitches again. Just a FLEX of his muscle that makes the whole shaft jump inside me. The head PUSHES against my cervix and- "AAAAIIIIIEEEEE!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.95),(a:300,0.85),(a:600,0.90),(a:900,0.82),(a:1200,0.88),(a:1500,0.80),(a:1800,0.85),(a:2100,0.75),(a:2400,0.80),(a:2700,0.68),(a:3000,0.74),(a:3300,0.60),(a:3600,0.65),(a:3900,0.52),(a:4200,0.56),(a:4500,0.44),(a:4800,0.48),(a:5100,0.36),(a:5400,0.40),(a:5700,0.30),(a:6000,0.34),(a:6300,0.24),(a:6600,0.28),(a:6900,0.18),(a:7200,0.22),(a:7500,0.14),(a:7800,0)))) The second orgasm starts in my SPINE and radiates outward. I feel it in my BONES. My back arches so hard the chains creak, pulling my ankles even wider to accommodate my thrashing. My pussy is making these OBSCENE noises around his cock. *SCHLORP-SQUELCH-GLUCK* like it's trying to speak. Trying to thank him for finally filling it properly. "Can feel yer heartbeat through yer cunt," he says conversationally. "Squeezin' me to the rhythm. Ba-bump, ba-bump." He's RIGHT again. Each pulse makes my walls grip him tighter, and each grip makes more juice flood out around his shaft. (pic:"ch03/bad end/final fuck/fuck.jpg","'Gonna give ye what ye asked for.'") "Now," he says, grinding his hips slightly, his balls MASHING against my ass. "Gonna give ye what ye asked for. Gonna FUCK this hero-hole proper." He pulls back. Just an inch.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.70),(a:100,0.50),(a:600,0.75),(a:700,0.52),(a:1600,0.78),(a:1700,0.55),(a:2800,0.80),(a:2900,0.58),(a:3400,0.82),(a:3500,0.60),(a:4000,0.84),(a:4100,0.62),(a:4400,0.86),(a:4500,0.65),(a:4700,0.88),(a:4800,0.68),(a:5000,0.90),(a:5100,0.70),(a:5200,0.92),(a:5300,0.72),(a:5400,0.94),(a:5500,0.75),(a:5600,0.96),(a:5700,0.78)))) The sensation of his cock DRAGGING against my stretched walls, the veins scraping my insides- "HNNNNNGH!" Then SLAMS back in. *PLAP* His balls hit my ass with a wet crack. The impact sends shockwaves through my whole body. My tits bounce up and SMACK me in the face. "That's one," he counts. Pulls back. Two inches this time. My pussy makes this SUCKING sound trying to keep him in. *PLAP* "Two." "GAAHHHH-PLEASE-I CAN'T-" But I can. And I am. Taking twelve inches of goblin cock while suspended like a broken marionette, my ankles rattling chains, my pussy SPRAYING juice with each thrust. "Three." *PLAP* Third orgasm. This one makes me see WHITE. Just pure sensation overload as his cock reshapes my insides, his balls beating a rhythm against my ass. "Stop CUMMING," I try to beg, but it comes out: "NNNNGH-CUM-CUMMING-CAN'T STOP-" "Four. Five. Six." *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* He's found a rhythm now. Pulling out halfway, six full inches, then SLAMMING home. Each thrust makes his balls swing forward and CRACK against my ass. Each impact makes more pussy juice spray out around his shaft. "Feel that?" He grabs my tits, uses them as HANDLES. "Knockin' on yer door."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.68,"peakTo",0.78,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",480,"intervalTo",320,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",45,"releaseMs",75,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.26,"depthJitter",0.10)) *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* "NO-NO-DON'T-" But even as I protest, I feel it. That deep barrier getting SOFTER with each thrust. My body responding to goblin pheromones designed to make human wombs ACCESSIBLE. "Ten. Eleven. Twelve." A dozen thrusts and I've cum three times. My pussy is so wet it sounds like he's fucking a bucket of porridge. *SCHLORP-SQUELCH-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* (simple_option:"03 hilts","He hilts inside you again.")

($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 1")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.60,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",1600,"forever",true))(pic:"ch03/bad end/final fuck/hilted.jpg","'Fuck, yer cunt's hot as a forge.'") "Fuck, yer cunt's hot as a forge," Snib grunts, his hands grabbing my tits, fingers SINKING into the meat. He grinds his hips, stirring. His cock moves in circles inside me, and I feel things SHIFT. Organs sliding. That deep pressure against something that shouldn't be touched. "NNNNGH-Master-what are you-AHHH!" He pushes. A PRESSURE. His cockhead pressing against that barrier inside me and-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.62),(a:500,0.66),(a:1000,0.70),(a:1500,0.74),(a:2000,0.78),(a:2500,0.82),(a:3000,0.86),(a:3500,0.90),(a:4000,0.94),(a:4200,0.70),(a:4400,0.60),(a:4600,0.55),(a:5000,0.52)))) *Something gives.* It softens. Opens slightly. "NO NO NO-WHAT'S HAPPENING-" I don't understand what I'm feeling. This WRONG sensation of something opening that should stay closed. My insides feel like they're being rearranged, reformed, reshaped to accommodate goblin cock. "There it goes," Snib says, eyes gleaming as he watches my face contort. "Openin' up fer me." He pushes harder. The head of his cock pressing INTO something. Through something. Past a barrier that makes my entire body SEIZE. "GAAAHHHHHHHHH!" It's inside something ELSE now. Somewhere DEEPER. Somewhere that makes my vision go white at the edges. I can feel it: the head of his cock in a place that's never been meant for- "That's yer breeding-room," Snib grins, grinding deeper. "Where GOBBO babies gonna grow."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.62,"amplitude",0.12,"periodMs",1400,"forever",true)) *Oh Flux no.* He's in my WOMB. His cock pushed through my cervix and the head is actually INSIDE my fucking womb. I can feel it. Feel the wrongness of it. Feel how my body is RESPONDING- "NNNNGH-PULL OUT-PLEASE-" "Can't now!" He laughs, that wet phlegmy sound. "Look!" He pulls back slightly and- *STUCK.*(simple_option:"03 stuck","Stuck.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.65),(a:1000,0.68),(a:2000,0.72),(a:3000,0.76),(a:4000,0.78),(a:5000,0.80),(a:6000,0.78),(a:7000,0.80),(a:8000,0.78),(a:9000,0.76),(a:10000,0.78),(a:11000,0.76),(a:12000,0.74))))(pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","left","My womb. He's in my womb.")His cockhead is too swollen. It won't fit back through. It's TRAPPED inside my womb, the cervix clamped around his shaft like a collar. "HARHARHAR! Yer cunt-mouth won't let go! It's locked around me cock!" He's right. I can FEEL it. Feel my cervix gripping his shaft while the head throbs inside my womb. We're LOCKED together. Like animals. Like fucking DOGS. "Now the fun part." He starts moving again. The head of his cock stirring inside my womb, stretching it, reshaping it. With each movement, I feel it expanding. Feel my womb stretching to accommodate him. I look down past my flopping tits. My belly is MOVING. I can see the outline of his cockhead through my skin(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.72,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",1200,"forever",true)), pushing up from inside. Making my flat stomach bulge and shift with each grind. "That's me cock in yer baby-box," Snib says, pressing a warty hand against the bulge. "Right where me cum's gonna go. Right where me spawn gonna grow." "NO-sob-PLEASE-I DON'T WANT-" "Don't want gobbo babies?" He grabs my face, forces me to look at him. His yellow eyes boring into mine. "Too late fer that, cow-tits." He thrusts. Just slightly. The head moves inside my womb and something CLENCHES. "AHHHHHHHHH!" "Gonna pump ye so full," Snib pants, grinding harder. The grinding gets more aggressive. His balls MASHING against my ass, so hot they feel like brands. I can feel them CHURNING, feel them preparing- "Please-" I'm sobbing now. Really crying. "I have a wife-" "HARHARHAR! Not anymore! Now yer gonna birth goblins! Lots of 'em! Yer tits gonna get even BIGGER, fulla milk fer gobbo babies to suck!" He grabs my tits again, SQUEEZES them hard.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:200,0.50),(a:400,0.55),(a:600,0.52),(a:800,0.48),(a:1000,0.40),(a:1200,0.30),(a:1400,0.20),(a:1600,0),"resumeAfter",true))) "These udders gonna feed a whole litter! Gobbo pups hangin' off 'em, drainin' em dry while I pump another load in yer cunt!" The image makes me want to die. My beautiful body turned into a breeding factory for creatures I used to kill. These tits, already so fucking huge, swollen with milk for goblin spawn. "Ye're gonna LOVE it," His cock FLEXES inside my womb. "Already do. Look how yer cummin'!" Each contraction of my womb around his cock sends waves of pleasure through me that shouldn't exist. Pleasure from being BRED. The shadow-chains creak as Snib repositions, grinding his hips in circles. His cockhead stirs inside my womb like he's mixing porridge with a spoon. I can feel it through my belly: that swollen purple mushroom rotating, stretching my baby-room in directions it was never meant to go. "Feel good in there," he grunts, his yellow eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "Like a hot little pouch made just fer gobbo cock." His hands grab my tits, using them as handles to grind deeper. I feel my cervix gripping his shaft like a ring, the muscle clamped so tight around him I can feel his pulse through it. Each heartbeat makes his cock twitch inside my womb, makes the head swell and press against walls that have never been touched. "Please," I sob, tears streaming. "Already planted me flag in yer baby-box. Just gotta fill it now." His cock flexes. A little spurt of precum. I FEEL it splash inside my womb, hot and thick. He pulls back slightly, not enough to exit my womb, just enough to make the head DRAG against the walls. The sensation makes me convulse, makes my suspended legs rattle their chains. "GAAAAHHH-STOP-IT'S TOO-" But he pushes back in, that mushroom head pressing DEEP, and I feel something else give way. Another barrier. Another place that shouldn't open but DOES. "That's one of yer egg-tubes," Snib says conversationally, grinding his cockhead against the opening.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.78),(a:500,0.84),(a:1000,0.88),(a:1500,0.90),(a:2000,0.88),(a:2500,0.86),(a:3000,0.88),(a:3500,0.86),(a:4000,0.84)))) "Gonna make sure every egg gets a nice cum-bath." The horror of it. My fallopian tube. He's pressed his cockhead against the entrance. Not inside, it's too small, but creating a SEAL. When he cums, it'll shoot directly into- "Here it comes," he pants. "Feel me balls workin'?" I do. God help me, I can feel EVERYTHING. The way his breathing changes. The way his cock swells even MORE inside my womb, stretching it to absolute capacity. The way his hands grip my tits so hard they'll bruise. "Yer gonna take every drop," he says, looking down at me. Our eyes meet, yellow and green. His cock swells one final time. The head inflates inside my womb until I feel like I'm going to split. The shaft thickens, the veins bulging so much I can feel them pressing against my cervix from inside. "GRAK-HNNNGH-GRAK NEED-THRACK-" He's losing control, slipping into Goblish. His whole body goes rigid. I feel the cum traveling up his shaft, not all at once but in a MASS, this thick bulge that stretches his urethra as it rises. Moving slow. Heavy. Like paste being forced through a tube. "BREED-CUNT-GONNA-NNNNGH-" (simple_option:"03 impregnation","The first stream hits.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")($play:"sex loop","elise moans")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.80,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1000,"forever",true))The first stream hits. A STREAM. Like someone turned on a faucet inside my womb. Hotter than blood, and so thick I can feel its WEIGHT. It doesn't splash against my walls, it COATS them. Sliding down like honey, pooling in the bottom of my womb. "HNNNNNNGGGGHHHHH!"(playwhenread:"snib creampie shot 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.82),(a:1500,0.85),(a:3000,0.88),(a:4500,0.90),(a:6000,0.92),(a:7500,0.94),(a:9000,0.92),(a:10500,0.90),(a:12000,0.88),(a:13500,0.86),(a:14000,0.84)))) Snib's face contorts above me. Tongue out, drooling on my tits. His whole body shaking as this ROPE of cum just keeps coming. I can feel it: the continuous FLOW through his cock, up through the shaft that's buried in me, through the head that's sealed against my fallopian tube, and INTO me. The second stream starts before the first ends. They OVERLAP. Now there are two rivers of goblin cum flowing into my womb simultaneously. The weight of it-god, the WEIGHT- I look down past my flopping tits and I can SEE it. The slight bulge of my belly expanding. Not dramatic, just enough to show there's something inside. Something warm and thick and ALIVE- "THRACK-THRACK-GUSH-BREED-" (playwhenread:"snib creampie shot 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.86),(a:1500,0.90),(a:3000,0.94),(a:4500,0.96),(a:6000,0.94),(a:7500,0.92),(a:9000,0.90))))The third stream. This one's THICKER. Like the stuff at the bottom of a pot that's been simmering too long. It comes out in spurts within the stream: chunks of concentrated sperm so dense they're almost solid. I feel them hitting the walls of my womb, sticking there like thrown mud. "That's it," Snib pants in Common again, grinding his hips. "That's the good stuff. The thick baby-batter that's been brewin' in me balls." His cock twitches and another stream starts. This one goes directly into the tube he's sealed against. I feel the pressure building as cum is INJECTED into my fallopian tube, backing up, flooding toward my ovary- "NO-NO-NOT-" But it's too late. Somehow, I don't know how, but I can *feel* what's happening. Is this magic? The bond between Snib and I through my collar? Somehow, I feel the heat spreading through that narrow tube. Feel it pooling around my ovary. The cum is so thick it moves in GLOBS, each one I can track as it travels deeper, violating places that should never-(playwhenread:"snib creampie shot 3",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.92),(a:1000,0.95),(a:2000,0.98),(a:3000,1.0),(a:4000,0.98),(a:5000,0.96),(a:6000,0.94),(a:7000,0.92),(a:8000,0.90),(a:9000,0.88)))) Another stream. Another. They're not stopping. A continuous FLOW of goblin seed, some going into my womb, some forcing its way up my tube. The pressure is INSANE. Like being filled with hot plaster that won't harden. (pic:"ch03/bad end/final fuck/hilted cum.jpg","Gods help me, I can feel MOVEMENT in the cum.") "Look at ye," Snib grunts, still cumming. "Gettin' pumped full like a good breeding-sow. Bet ye can feel them swimmers already, can't ye?" I can. Gods help me, I can feel MOVEMENT in the cum. Things SWIMMING in it. Millions of them. Billions. All heading for my eggs with single-minded purpose. "Please-" I sob, but even as I beg, my womb is MILKING him. The muscles contract in waves, trying to pull more cum out. My body WANTS this. Wants to be bred. "I don't want goblin babies-"(playwhenread:"yell have lots") "Ye'll have lots," he promises, another stream starting. This one's pure HEAT, like molten metal pouring into me. "Litters of 'em. Little green babies suckin' them fat tits while I pump another load in ye." The image makes me want to die. These tits, already so huge, swollen with milk for goblin spawn. My belly round with them. And still being FUCKED, still being bred, because that's all I am now- Another stream. The cum in my womb is getting so thick it barely moves. Just sits there, this heavy MASS of genetic material. When Snib grinds his hips, I feel it SHIFT inside me like jelly. Some of it's cooling, not cold, just less hot, forming layers. The oldest on the bottom, the newest on top, all of it PACKED with swimming goblin sperm. "Almost done," he pants. "Just the thick stuff left." The 'thick stuff' comes out like pine pitch from a split knot. I feel his cock STRAINING to push it through. Each pulse takes effort, his whole body tensing. The cum that emerges is almost solid CHUNKS that pile up inside my womb like sewer slime. "GNNNNNHHHHH-THRACK-BREED-FILL-" One final stream. This one's different. Thinner, but HOT. Burning hot. It cuts through the thick mass already inside me, spreading heat everywhere it touches. The last cleaning shot, making sure everything is mixed, everything is active, everything is BREEDING. Then he stops. Just... stops.(playwhenread:"snib creampie shot 4",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.88),(a:1000,0.84),(a:2000,0.80),(a:3000,0.76),(a:4000,0.72),(a:5000,0.68),(a:6000,0.65),(a:8000,0.62),(a:10000,0.60),(a:12000,0.58),(a:15000,0.55),(a:18000,0.52),(a:21000,0.50),(a:24000,0.48),(a:28000,0.46),(a:32000,0.44),(a:36000,0.42)))) His cock still twitches inside my womb, little aftershock spurts adding drops to the ocean already inside me. But the main event is over. I've been INSEMINATED. "There we go," Snib says, breathing hard. His face glistening with sweat. "Proper gobbo load in a hero's womb." He doesn't pull out. Just stays there, hilted, his cockhead still swollen inside my womb, trapping everything inside. I can feel it all: the WEIGHT of his cum, the heat of it, the way it moves when I breathe. And swimming through it all, billions of goblin sperm hunting for my eggs. "Gonna let it soak," he says, settling his weight on me. His face lands between my tits and he starts LICKING them. Minutes pass. Five. Ten. The cum inside me cools from burning to just uncomfortably warm. It THICKENS, becoming even more like jelly. When I breathe, I feel it JIGGLE inside my womb. I can feel the POTENTIAL. All that virile seed packed inside me, millions of sperm swarming over however many eggs I have. The sheer NUMBERS mean pregnancy is guaranteed. Probably multiple. "Yer gonna look so good with a belly," he continues. "Big and round. Tits gettin' even bigger, fulla milk. Walkin' around town with everyone knowin' ye got bred by a goblin." The shame of it makes fresh tears come. I imagine Elara seeing me pregnant with goblin spawn. The town knowing their hero became a breeding-sow for the creatures I used to kill. Finally, FINALLY, I feel his cock starting to soften. The head shrinking just enough that it might- (pic:"ch03/bad end/final fuck/agony.jpg","He finally pulls back.") (simple_option:"03 pulls back","He pulls back.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","snib hut theme")($play:"sex loop","after anal")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.82),(a:100,0.55),(a:300,0.48),(a:500,0.42),(a:700,0.38))))The head POPS free from my cervix with a wet sound. For a moment, the seal holds. All that cum trapped inside my womb by my cervix squeezing shut. Then it starts to leak. The cum is so THICK it can barely flow. It oozes from my cervix in a continuous stream, like squeezing honey from a bottle. Yellow-white and CHUNKY, full of those concentrated sperm-clumps. As he withdraws further, my pussy CLENCHES, and I cum. AGAIN.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:350,0.65),(a:700,0.70),(a:1050,0.60),(a:1400,0.65),(a:1750,0.55),(a:2100,0.58),(a:2450,0.48),(a:2800,0.50),(a:3150,0.40),(a:3500,0.42),(a:3850,0.32),(a:4200,0.34),(a:4550,0.24),(a:4900,0.26),(a:5250,0.18),(a:5600,0.20),(a:5950,0.12),(a:6300,0.14),(a:6650,0.08),(a:7000,0.10),(a:7350,0.04),(a:7700,0)))) The sensation of his cock dragging out while cum leaks from my womb- "GAAAAHHHHHH!" I squirt around his shaft, my pussy juice mixing with the leaking cum to create this DISGUSTING soup that splatters on the ground. He pulls out completely and MORE cum follows. Not all of it, not even most of it. My cervix is still mostly closed, keeping the majority of that thick seed trapped in my womb. But what DOES leak out... *GLOP* A fist-sized chunk of concentrated cum falls from my pussy and lands on the floor with a wet splat. Then another. And another. Each one steaming in the cool air, each one REEKING of goblin musk. *SPLORT* (pic:"ch03/bad end/final fuck/impregnated.jpg","It pools on the floor, forming a puddle of yellow-white SLUDGE that spreads slowly outward.") A longer stream now, pouring from my gaping cunt in a thick rope. It pools on the floor, forming a puddle of yellow-white SLUDGE that spreads slowly outward. The smell, god, the SMELL, concentrated breeding-musk that makes my sinuses burn and my pussy clench, squeezing out more cum. The shadow-chains release.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:200,0.18),(a:500,0.22),(a:700,0.12),(a:900,0.16),(a:1100,0.08),(a:1300,0.10),(a:1500,0.04),(a:1700,0)))) I collapse into the puddle of cum, my legs splashing in it. The hot slime immediately coats my ass, my thighs. I'm SITTING in a pool of goblin seed that just came out of my womb. But inside, inside I can still feel the WEIGHT. Most of his load is still in there, trapped behind my cervix, marinating my eggs. When I move, I feel it shift. When I breathe, I feel it settle. I'm pregnant. I know it with absolute certainty. No one cums that much, that deep, that THICK, without breeding. My womb is a goblin nursery now. In months, I'll birth his spawn. But right now, sitting in this puddle of cum, my pussy still gaping and drooling more seed, my womb feeling FULL and warm with his genetics... I lean forward. My face hovers over the puddle. That yellow-white sludge steaming on the ground. The overflow from my bred womb. It REEKS. Like concentrated balls, like breeding, like everything I used to fight against. My tongue extends. *SLURP*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:1500,0.16),(a:3000,0.22),(a:4500,0.28),(a:6000,0.34),(a:7500,0.38),(a:9000,0.40),(a:10500,0.38),(a:12000,0.34),(a:13500,0.28),(a:15000,0.22),(a:16500,0.16),(a:18000,0.10),(a:20000,0.06),(a:22000,0)))) I lick the cum from the ground. The taste EXPLODES through my mouth: salt and rot and SATISFACTION. My belly recognizes this as FOOD. The only food I need now. "HARHARHAR! Look at the hero! Eatin' cum off the floor like a good pet!" I ignore him. Just keep licking. Gathering the thick chunks with my tongue, swallowing them down. Each gulp makes my pussy clench, squeezing out more cum for me to eat. A perfect cycle. Because that's what good pets do. (simple_option:"03 pet","Your life is over...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")(pic:"ch03/bad end/gobboree.jpg")($play:"sex loop",0) ($play:"ambience","gobboree")($play:"song",0)(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.12,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",2400,"forever",true))The sand burns my knees but Master Snib's cock smells so GOOD I don't care, my ass WAY up, tits dragging through hot sand as I crawl under the feast-table where gobbo-legs dangle and kick and sometimes a green hand reaches down to SQUEEZE my fat white ass that jiggles like festival pudding. "Good humie," someone grunts in Goblish but I understand because Master taught me the important words, the ones that matter like *thrack-hole* and *milk-bags* and *breed-ready*. The Griznak Gobboree sprawls across the desert like a fungus of torn canvas and crooked poles, bonfires sending up smoke that reeks of roasted meat and sex and goblin musk so thick it makes my pussy DROOL constantly, can't help it, it's what Master made me for. At a nearby table, dice clatter and goblins HOWL with laughter as they bet on which human slave will break next: there's a merchant's daughter getting her first taste of green cock, four of them holding her down while she SCREAMS but her pussy makes wet sounds that echo across the camp because goblin pheromones don't ASK permission, they just rewrite your meat until you're GRATEFUL. I nuzzle Master Snib's balls with my cheek and whisper: "Grak need Master's booyagh seed, this pet's so HUNGRY," and I am, stomach cramping for that thick yellow-white sludge that's the only food that matters now. His cock hangs heavy, twelve inches of purple breeding-pipe that owns every thought in my empty head. "Grak LOVE snib-cock booyagh!" I chirp to a passing gobbo merchant who grabs my swaying udder and twists. "Eleez smoothie SO wet-wet for Master!" The air REEKS: piss and cum and roasted meat and that beautiful-beautiful gobbo-musk that makes my cunt drool-drip-GUSH down my thighs. Tables everywhere, goblins rutting human slaves over barrels, the wet PLAP-PLAP-PLAP mixing with drums and that shrieking desert music. Master Snib walks proud-proud, his cock swinging, and I crawl behind like the good pet that I am, sand sticking to my juice-slick thighs. "That's Snib's humie?" someone asks in Goblish. "The one what was a hero?" "GRAK HERO-CUNT NOW!" I announce, stopping to spread my ass cheeks wide, showing them my gaped, cum-dripping holes. "Master put LOTS of babies in Eleez! They cook-cook inside!" My belly, soft and getting rounder, already carries his spawn. Can feel them swimming, making my womb all tingly-good. Three months bred and my tits already getting HEAVIER, preparing their milk for gobbo mouths. We reach Master's tent: silk stolen from human merchants, the nicest in the whole camp because Master's SMART now, important now. Cuz of me! Cuz I make his brain all clever when my throat massage his cock every morning! Under the table, gobbo captains discussing raids. Their thick green legs everywhere, cocks hanging, the occasional SPLURT of precum hitting my face as I serve drinks. "Grak thirsty-thirsty!" I whine, opening my mouth WIDE under Master's cock. He GRUNTS mid-sentence, talking about hitting the Everwood trade routes, and his cock SPURTS a rope of precum that bisects my face before I catch it on my tongue. "Good smoothie," another gobbo laughs. "Ye trained her proper!" Master grabs my hair, yanks me close so his balls rest on my forehead. "Show 'em yer dance, meat." I scramble up, tits FLOPPING, and start my nasty dance. Hips grinding invisible cock, hands grabbing my own tits and SQUEEZING until milk-drops leak. Making my ass CLAP, left cheek to right, while I moan in Goblish: "Eleez need nut-meal! Grak SO hungry-hole for booyagh cock-juice!" They all laugh-laugh-laugh and throw coppers that stick to my sweaty skin. One captain grabs my ass, fingers PLUNGING into my pussy.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:150,0.38),(a:300,0.42),(a:500,0.38),(a:700,0.34),(a:900,0.28),(a:1100,0.22),(a:1300,0.16),(a:1500,0.10),(a:1700,0),"resumeAfter",true))) "Still tight! How?" "Cuz Eleez SPECIAL gobbo-grippers!" I squeal, clenching on his fingers. "Pussy get wet-wet but stay tight-tight for breeding!" Back under the table, crawling through spilled ale and cum-puddles from other slaves. Position myself between Master's legs as he discusses tomorrow's raid on... on... *Somewhere. Used to matter.* Master Snib spreads his legs wider. His cock, that BEAUTIFUL purple-tipped meat-stick, points down at me. Not hard, just... ready. Always ready for his pet. "Tell 'em about before," he says in Common, then switches to Goblish for the others. "Eleez was stupid hero!" I announce, nuzzling his shaft, leaving lipstick marks. "Thought she was strong! But then taste Master's booyagh cock-juice and brain go all smoothie-soft! Now Eleez just three holes for gobbo-breeding!" My cunt CLENCHES at my own words. The deepest parts of me, where pride used to live, now just floods with joy-juice when I DEGRADE myself. Master's discussing attacking some place at dawn. His hand lazily strokes his cock as he talks, making it slowly harden. The others respect him now: the gobbo who broke a human hero, who turned 'Skulgaroth' into a mewling cum-toilet. "Grak want cum-feast!" I beg, mouth wide, tongue out. "Please please please feed Eleez!" He doesn't even LOOK down. Just keeps talking about the raid while his cock points at my face. Then, mid-sentence about cavalry, he GRUNTS. Less than the huge loads from before. He's been using me so much there's less volume. But what comes out- (bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:1000,0.26),(a:2000,0.30),(a:3000,0.32),(a:4000,0.30),(a:5000,0.26),(a:6000,0.22),(a:7000,0.18),(a:8000,0.14),(a:9000,0.10),(a:10000,0.06),(a:11000,0))))(sperm:"SPLOOOOOOOOOGE",5,"splurt 8")A thin, NASTY rope of yellow-white nut bisects my face from hairline to chin. A continuous STREAM like he's pissing liquid genetics directly into my mouth. It's SOUR, concentrated, all the worst parts of cum distilled into this degrading facial. "AHHHHHHHHHHH!" I moan, catching it on my tongue, letting it pool then SHOWING everyone before swallowing. "Thanks Master! Thanks thanks thanks!" The stream continues, not spurting, just DRAINING. His balls barely twitch. This is just... maintenance. Keeping them empty so they don't ache. And I'm the receptacle. I drop to my belly, tits mushrooming out to either side, and start licking the sand where his cum dripped. It tastes like dirt and goblin seed and home. Around us, the Gobboree continues: screaming and laughing and fucking and breaking, while I tongue the ground like the animal I've become, my pussy drooling steadily, making its own muddy puddle. A redhead at the post nearby starts begging. Not for freedom, for cock. Another one breaks. They always do. Master Snib puts his foot on my head, pushing my face harder into the sand. "Mine," he tells the other goblins. "Four sennights and look-completely gone. No hero left. Just meat that knows what it's for." I cum from his words.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.38),(a:350,0.32),(a:700,0.36),(a:1050,0.28),(a:1400,0.30),(a:1750,0.22),(a:2100,0.24),(a:2450,0.16),(a:2800,0.18),(a:3150,0.12),(a:3600,0),"resumeAfter",true))) Just a little one, a tremor that makes my pussy squirt once, adding to my puddle. "Grak love Master," I moan into the dirt. "Grak's smoothie needs Master's booyagh cock, please, PLEASE, this pet is so empty-" "Later," he says, as they start to play dice. "Maybe." I stay there, face in the sand, ass in the air, pussy drooling, waiting for maybe. It's all I am now. A thing that waits for maybe. The festival spins on around us, flesh and smoke and cum and sand, and I've never been happier because happiness is simple when you don't have thoughts anymore, just needs, and all my needs have one solution: Master's cock, Master's cum, Master's approval. I am Elise. I was never Aldric. Aldric was a dream this meat had before it learned what it was really for. The sand tastes like goblin cum now. Everything does. (set:$bad_end to (dm:"title","Pet"))(display:"unlock bad end")(gameover:"ch03/bad end/game over.jpg")

(set:$map to "img/maps/map 2.jpg")(hidden_gem:"The cottage feels smaller now. Smaller and somehow sadder, like it knows we're leaving.","The cottage feels cramped, cold, a cage closing, collapsing, confining.")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/1.png") (pic:"ch04/bad end/pack.jpg","Elara moves through the bedroom with the efficiency of a woman who's made a thousand quick decisions.") Elara moves through the bedroom with the efficiency of a woman who's made a thousand quick decisions. She pulls a leather traveling pack from under the bed. "Clothes first." She's already at the wardrobe, pulling things down. "I packed you some things when I thought you might..." She tosses me a bundle. I catch it reflexively. White linen shirt. Brown breeches. A leather belt. Practical, simple clothes. "They are a bit... roomy for me." Her voice is quiet. "Can I convince that CREATURE to let you wear these?" My throat tightens. "Elara-" "Don't." She's not looking at me, focused on folding her own clothes. "Don't say anything sentimental right now. If I start crying again, I won't stop, and we don't have TIME." I watch her hands move over fabric with practiced ease, hands that have bandaged wounds, mixed poultices, held mine at our wedding. "Ma- the goblin will NOT let me wear these," I say, gesturing at the bundle. "I know it." She pauses. Turns. Her eyes travel over my body: the metal top my tits bulge out from, the collar at my throat. (playwhenread:"that outfit is obscene")"That outfit is obscene." "It's better than what he had me wearing before." "It's designed to humiliate you." "I know." "It makes you look like a..." She can't finish the sentence. "I KNOW, Elara." She's quiet for a moment. Then: "You smell different." My blood runs cold. "What?" "Different. From this morning." She's frowning now, coming closer. "Just... there's something..." She sniffs. Her nose wrinkles. "It's almost like... musk? But sharper. Stranger." *The Silver Stag. The back room. My hands around his-* "Sorry," I manage. "Long day handling goods at the market. Snib had a rat carcass no one wanted."(simple_option:"04 not convinced","She doesn't look convinced.")

(pic:"ch04/bad end/packing angry.jpg","left")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")She doesn't look convinced. But she doesn't push either. Just turns back to her packing. "I'm bringing the apothecary's satchel," she says. "Binding-moss, cauterizing salts, poppy-milk." Downstairs, we hear Snib rummaging through our kitchen. "OI!" His voice carries up. "Ye got any CHEESE? Me guts are RUMBLIN'!" Elara's jaw tightens. She takes a deep breath through her nose. (playwhenread:"im going to murder him someday")"I'm going to murder him someday," she says conversationally. "I'm going to find a way around that collar and I'm going to feed him something that makes his insides liquefy." "Elara-" "I know. I know. Not helpful." She pulls on her travel clothes as she talks: the white blouse, the brown breeches, tall boots. "But I'm ALLOWED to fantasize about it." (hidden_gem:"She looks so capable. So strong. So utterly HERSELF.","She stands so sure, so stalwart, so stubbornly, stunningly, savagely, superbly HERSELF.") And I'm standing here in a metal slave outfit, with goblin precum still sticky between my fingers.(simple_option:"04 you dont have to","'You don't have to do this.'")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/3.png")I say it one last time. I NEED to give her one last out. (hidden_gem:"She stops. Turns. Comes to me and puts her hands on my shoulders-these shoulders that are narrower than they used to be, softer, wrong.","She stills. Swivels. Sets her steady palms upon my shoulders-these shrunken, soft, surrendered shoulders, shorn of sinew, stripped of their former splendor and strength.") "Listen to me." Her voice is fierce. "I have loved you since I met you. I have loved you through monster hunts and near-death experiences and that time you accidentally set the blacksmith's roof on fire." "That was ONE time-" "I loved you when you were Aldric." Her hands tighten. "And I love you now that you're 'Elise.' I don't care what body you're in. I don't care what that creature makes you do. You are my SHIELD-MATE. My hearth-kin. And I am not letting you face this darkness without a light." "But-" "No buts." She kisses my forehead. Brief. Fierce.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:200,0.06),(a:500,0.10),(a:800,0.12),(a:1200,0.10),(a:1600,0.08),(a:2000,0.06),(a:2400,0.04),(a:2800,0)))) "Now help me carry these bags downstairs before that little monster eats all our food."(simple_option:"04 goodbye","Go downstairs.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")Snib has indeed found the cheese. He's perched on our kitchen table like a gargoyle, gnawing on a wheel of aged yellow cheese that Elara was saving for Solstice. Crumbs scatter across the wood surface that Elara habitually scrubs clean. "'BOUT TIME!" He gestures with the cheese. Elara sets down her bags with controlled force. "I'm getting a horse from the livery. Clover-she's mine. She'll need to be saddled." "A HORSE!" Snib's eyes light up. "Jarko'll like that! He gets lonely!" "I'll meet you at the front." She's gone before I can respond. Snib hops off the table, brushing cheese crumbs from his belly. "Gonna be FUN watchin' her learn her place," he announces. "She's NOT part of the deal." My voice comes out sharper than I intend. The collar tightens briefly. "Ain't she?" Snib's grin is all teeth. "She's comin' to ME hut. Sleepin' under ME roof. Eatin' ME food-well, HER food what she's bringin', but still." He scratches his balls. "Seems to me that makes her... involved." (playwhenread:"if you touch her",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.15),(a:400,0.22),(a:800,0.28),(a:1200,0.32),(a:1600,0.28),(a:2000,0.22),(a:2400,0.16),(a:2800,0.10),(a:3200,0))))"If you touch her-" "What?" He spreads his arms wide. "What'll ye DO, hero-cunt? Ye can't even LOOK at me angry without that collar squeezin' yer pretty neck." He waddles closer, close enough that I can smell him, that musk that makes my head swim. "Face it. Yer BOTH mine now." Every muscle in my body screams to rip his head off. I stand there. Silent. "That's what I thought." Snib pats my hip almost affectionately.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:80,0.10),(a:200,0.06),(a:350,0)))) "Now grab them bags and let's GO. Moon's wastin'." I pick up the bags. (hidden_gem:"At the door, I pause. Look back at the cottage-at the herbs drying over the hearth, at the worn spots on the floor where we've walked a thousand times, at the bed visible through the bedroom door where we've held each other through nightmares and dreams.","At the door I dally, drinking deep of this dwelling one last draught-the dried dill dangling in dimness, the divots dug by devotion's daily dance, the distant bed where we drifted and dreamed and dared to defy every darkness together.") *Goodbye*, I think. *We'll be back. Thirty days. We'll be back.* But some part of me isn't sure I believe it. "MOVE IT, titcow!"(simple_option:"04 departure","Step outside.")

(set:$map_position to (a: 2520,2890))(map: (a: 810, 1370),(a: 1100, 1560),(a: 1250, 1760),(a: 1230, 2060),(a: 1360, 2290),(a: 1490, 2430),(a: 1720, 2540),(a: 1960, 2680),(a: 2060, 2810),(a: 2210, 2860),(a: 2320, 2880),(a: 2510, 2890))(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience") The hut slouches against its dead olive tree like a drunk against a post. I've seen it before. Cleaned it. Scrubbed goblin filth from its corners. But seeing Elara's face as Clover crests the final dune- *That's* new. (pic:"ch04/bad end/hut predawn.jpg","The hut slouches against its dead olive tree like a drunk against a post.") Her lips part. Dawn bleeds pink across the Shifting Sands. We've been riding for hours. My thighs are raw. Snib's cock has been a constant pressure against my lower back, sometimes soft, sometimes *not*, and every time Jarkrond's gait shifted, that bulge ground against me through the metal breeches. Elara dismounts first. Her boots hit sand with a soft *whump*. (hidden_gem:"Clover stamps nervously, ears flat, nostrils flaring.","Clover clatters and cowers, ears clamped close, catching the cruel, carrion-thick corruption of the creature's corral.") Jarkrond hasn't stopped watching the mare. "Ye like what I've done with the place?" Snib slides down my leg, his claws catching on the scale-mail. "Yer wife CLEANED it fer me yesterday. Real thorough-like." Elara's leading Clover toward Jarkrond's lean-to next to the hut, a structure of salvaged planks and mud that I know too well. But her hands are shaking. I dismount.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:100,0.18),(a:250,0.22),(a:400,0.10),(a:550,0.14),(a:700,0.06),(a:850,0)))) My legs nearly buckle. The spike heels sink into sand, and I have to catch myself on Jarkrond's flank. His hide is fever-hot. (hidden_gem:"His amber eye rolls toward me, and something in that look makes my stomach clench.","His amber eye assesses, ancient and aware, an animal appetite awakening.") (playwhenread:"ugh the smell")"The smell," Elara says quietly. She's finished securing Clover. Now she's just standing there, staring at Snib's abode. "It's..." The musk. The thing that rewires you if you breathe it long enough. "Ye'll get used to it!" Snib is already waddling toward the hide-flap door. *That's what I'm afraid of.* Elara's hand clamps over mine. Her fingers are cold from the night ride, but her grip is iron. "This is where you've been?" The question breaks apart in her mouth. "Since you went missing?" (pic:"ch04/bad end/live like this.jpg","I can't look at her.") I can't look at her. "Yes." She stares at the mud-brick walls. At the dung patches. At the animal bones scattered near the entrance. "Oh, Aldric." It comes out broken. "Oh, *Aldric*." "QUIT BLUBBERIN' AND GET INSIDE!" Snib's voice carries from within. "Sun's comin' up and I need me BEAUTY SLEEP!" Elara's jaw tightens. That fire again, the same fire that made her chase us through Eboncrest in nothing but a nightgown. She squares her shoulders. Takes a breath. Walks toward the door. I follow. Behind us, in the lean-to, Clover whickers nervously. Jarkrond answers with a sound that isn't quite a whinny. It's lower. Hungrier. I don't look back.(simple_option:"04 inside","Step inside.")($play:"song",0)

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/2.png")The hide flap peels back like dead skin. I know this darkness. Know the way it *breathes*, wet and organic, thick with something that coats the inside of your throat. But I've never watched someone else step into it for the first time. Elara crosses the threshold. (pic:"ch04/bad end/hut.jpg")($play:"song","snib hut theme") And stops. Her hand flies to her mouth. (hidden_gem:"Her shoulders curl inward like she's been struck in the stomach. A sound escapes her-raw, gutted, the bleat of something dying in a ditch.","Her shoulders shrink and shudder, as if struck by some spectral, stomaching blow. A sound slips free-not speech, not a shriek, but something small, shattered, strangled. The sort a stricken creature surrenders at the very last.") "Back home AGAIN!" Snib waddles past her, arms spread wide. "Yer wife did a BANG-UP job cleanin' me place! Should've seen it BEFORE!" Elara looks like she's about to snap. The refuse corner squats in the far wall, a bucket that serves as latrine, ringed with stains that have soaked into the mud-brick. Flies orbit it in lazy spirals. The *smell*- Snib's fur pile dominates one corner. Matted pelts stacked three deep, crusty with substances I will not name. This is his throne. His kingdom. The seat of his power over me. And in the corner- Whisperwind. My sword. My *soul*. The blade that sang when it tasted dragon blood. The star-sapphires in its pommel that once blazed with captured starlight. The wind runes etched by masters who died before my grandfather's grandfather drew breath. Now it leans against the wall like a forgotten broom. Darkened. *Defiled*. The sapphires are blind, milky, dead. The runes have twisted into shapes that spell out my new name. *ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO* Elara sees it. I watch her see it. (playwhenread:"you live like this")"That's-" She takes a step toward it. Her herbalist's eye, trained to spot rot, to identify corruption, reads the blade's defilement like a symptom. "That's your SWORD. That's-what did he-" "Jizzed on it!" Snib announces cheerfully. "Really got in there good. The magic didn't like that ONE BIT!" Elara's face goes through colors. White to red to something darker. Then she *breaks*. "This is DISGUSTING!" She whirls on Snib. Tears streaming down her freckled cheeks, but her voice is fire and broken glass. "You diseased little VERMIN! This is a CESSPIT! I've seen PLAGUE PITS with less filth!" Snib picks at his teeth. His cock makes a visible *twitch* beneath his loincloth. "Ye done?" (pic:"ch04/bad end/moldy wall.jpg","'Look at this! LOOK!'") "DONE?" Elara's laugh is a wild thing. "Look at this! LOOK!" She gestures at the walls where strange growths cluster, grey-green fungal blooms that pulse slightly in the torchlight. "Blackmold! Actual BLACKMOLD! Do you know what that does to lungs? Do you know-" She's sobbing now. Her auburn hair has come loose from its travel braid, falling around her shoulders in wild tangles. Her clothes are stained with road dust and horse sweat. She's been awake for gods know how many hours, ridden through the night to stay with me, and now she's standing in a goblin's hovel watching everything she believed about civilization crumble. "-and the FLIES! You have FLIES breeding in here! And this-" She kicks at the straw pile where I slept. My bed. My pathetic, animal bed. "This is where you made my HUSBAND sleep? On STRAW? Like a DOG?" Snib's yellow eyes gleam. "She slept on the GOOD straw," he says. Elara screams. It's not a word. Just raw sound. Her fists clench at her sides and her whole body shakes and for a moment, just a moment, I think she might try to kill him. Collar be damned. Consequences be damned. Then her eyes find mine. Those sapphire depths, swimming with tears. Looking at me in this metal wrapping that barely contains my obscene tits, these scale-mail leggings that have been gyrating around my ass-cheeks for hours of riding. Looking at the collar around my throat. The fight drains out of her like blood from a wound. "Days," she whispers. "You were here for DAYS. Alone. With *him*." I can't tell her the truth. Can't tell her about touching myself. The handjob in the Silver Stag. The deals. The way my cursed body responded to his musk even while my mind screamed. "I survived," I say instead. She crosses to me. Her arms wrap around my waist, so much *smaller* than they used to, her head barely reaching my collarbone now instead of my shoulder. She holds me like I'm something precious. Something that might break. "Never again," she breathes against my chest. "You're never alone with him again." Over her shoulder, Snib catches my eye. He winks.(simple_option:"04 stable","Later...")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"sex loop",0)

($play:"song","snib hut theme")(pic:"ch04/bad end/leanto.jpg")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png") We have to find a way to stable Clover, in the presence of the horrid Jarkrond. His ash-grey bulk fills the dominant position near the primitive water trough. Those amber eyes catch torchlight and hold it. "Come on, girl." Elara's voice is soft. Encouraging. The voice she uses with frightened patients. "He's just a wild horse. Nothing to-" Clover *balks*. The white mare plants her hooves and *refuses*. Ears flat against her skull. Eyes showing white all around. Her nostrils flare once, twice- She smells him. "What's wrong with-" Elara tugs the lead. "Clover, please, we need to-" Jarkrond's head turns. Slow. Deliberate. His nostrils flare wide. I watch his barrel chest expand as he drinks in the mare's scent. His weight shifts forward. His tail lifts. And his cock begins to *drop*. I've seen stallion arousal before.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",4000,"forever",true)) I was a warrior. I've stabled horses reeking of battle-sweat, dealt with the rutting-fever, understood the sanguine tides that drive beasts to madness. Jarkrond mocks the very concept of a normal horse.($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",1900,"forever",true)) The head breaches first-a blunt, heavy pestle of pink-grey meat, slick with the viscous oil of anticipation. It catches the torchlight like wet marble. Then the shaft follows, dragging itself free from the sheath with a suction-heavy *schluck* that sounds like a boot pulled from deep mud. Thick as a siege-timber and mottled with veins that pulse in time with a heart too large for any natural beast. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/sighting.png","'Gods above,' she breathes. 'That's-that can't be-'") Elara stares. Her face goes white as Clover's hide. "Gods above," she breathes. "That's-that can't be-" "JARKO!" Snib's voice is delighted. He's leaning against the lean-to entrance, arms crossed over his warty chest. "Someone's EXCITED! Ye can smell she's in heat, can't ye boy?" "She is NOT in-" Elara starts. "She IS." Snib's grin shows every broken tooth. "Ye really don't know yer own horse, missus?" Clover's hindquarters are trembling. She's stopped trying to back away. Her posture shifts-her tail lifting slightly, her stance widening. *No. No no no-* Jarkrond takes a step forward. His cock bobs with the movement, a heavy club of mottled horse-flesh that's still *growing*. "Absolutely NOT." Elara yanks Clover's lead, trying to pull her back toward the entrance. "She is MY horse, she's gentle, she's-" "She's gonna get BRED." Snib shrugs. "Tonight. Tomorrow. Next sennight." He picks at something between his teeth. "An' she's gonna want it, too. That's how ash-runners work, see? They got these INSTINCTS-" "I don't care about-" "Once Jarko starts courtin' a mare?" Snib's yellow eyes gleam. "Ain't no stoppin' him." He glances at me, a look that makes my stomach turn to ice. "It's real BEAUTIFUL to watch." Jarkrond's cock is fully erect now. Twenty-three inches of grey-pink meat, veined and glistening. The head is the size of my fist. Precum drools from the tip in sticky ropes that splatter on the hay. His amber eyes find mine. He holds my gaze while his cock *throbs*. "Jarko," Snib says fondly. "Ye got GOOD taste." The stallion's nostrils flare. He breathes deep, once, twice, three times. He's not smelling the mare anymore. Heat blooms between my thighs. Unbidden. Sickening. I try EVERYTHING to stop it(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:400,0.06),(a:800,0.12),(a:1200,0.18),(a:1600,0.22),(a:2000,0.18),(a:2400,0.14),(a:2800,0.10),(a:3200,0.06),(a:3600,0),"resumeAfter",true))), biting hard down onto my lips. My nipples stiffen against the metal band. That scent I was enchanted to produce-green pear and jasmine and something deeper, muskier- Jarkrond's upper lip curls back in a slow, grotesque flehmen grimace, exposing slick pink gums and yellowed teeth as he tastes the pheromones on the air. A low, tectonic rumble vibrates through his barrel chest.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.14),(a:500,0.20),(a:1000,0.26),(a:1500,0.30),(a:2000,0.26),(a:2500,0.20),(a:3000,0.14),(a:3500,0.10),(a:4000,0.06),(a:4500,0),"resumeAfter",true))) Elara is staring at me. At Jarkrond. At the massive equine shaft pointing in my direction. "Al- Elise?" Her voice is very small. "Why is he looking at you like that?" I don't have an answer. I don't have anything but the heat pooling in my belly and the collar humming against my throat and the terrible certainty that this is only the beginning.(simple_option:"04 exhausted","You're exhausted...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/2.png")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/2.png")"Right then." Snib settles onto his fur pile like a king taking his throne. His loincloth strains upward as he adjusts himself. "Sleepin' arrangements."($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"sex loop",0) My stomach drops. "Hero-cunt-" He points at the straw pile where I slept before. My bed. My *animal* bed. "-sleeps THERE. Like always." His warty finger swings toward a bare patch of dirt floor near the refuse corner. Near the *bucket*. "Wifey sleeps THERE." "Absolutely not." Elara's voice cracks with exhaustion but loses none of its edge. "We're sleeping *together*." Snib's grin splits his face like a wound. "Are ye NOW?" He scratches his balls, slow and deliberate, making sure we hear every wet *schlick-schlick*. "And what're ye OFFERIN' fer that luxury?" The question hangs in the fetid air. (hidden_gem:"I watch Elara's face cycle through emotions-confusion, realization, horror, and then something harder. Something that calculates.","I watch Elara's features flicker-fear, fury, falling fast through a cascade of cruel comprehensions-and then something fiercer, something forged, something that fixes its focus and finds a foothold in the foulness.") "I'll cook your meals," she says. "Properly. With herbs and-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/snib grin.jpg") "That's what ye're gonna do ANYWAY, missus." Snib picks something from between his teeth, examines it, eats it. "Already plannin' on it, weren't ye? Saw them food stuff in yer bags." Elara's jaw tightens. "Then what do you WANT?" The words are a mistake. I see it immediately. You don't *ask* a goblin what he wants. Snib's eyes go half-lidded, the look of a creature that's been getting what it wants since before cities had walls. "What I WANT..." He lets the word hang. His cock *throbs* visibly beneath the loincloth. "...is fer ye both to sleep NAKED." "No." "Then wifey sleeps by the piss-bucket." Elara's hands ball into fists. Her whole body trembles with exhausted rage. I can see her calculating: dignity against comfort, pride against practicality. (simple_option:"04 negotiate","Silently watch her negotiate.","'Elara, don't-'","matters")

(pic:"ch04/bad end/elara negotiate.jpg")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png") (if:$choice is "Silently watch her negotiate.")[I bite my tongue. She needs to understand what we're dealing with. Needs to see for herself how every inch of ground costs something. "Fine." The word comes out of Elara like she's spitting poison. "FINE. We sleep... unclothed. But you don't WATCH. You turn around. You don't-" "Deal." Snib says. My blood runs cold. *He wanted that. He wanted her to bargain. To establish that she WOULD bargain.* "And NO touching," Elara adds quickly. "You don't come near us while we sleep. You stay on your... your FUR PILE." "Wouldn't DREAM of it, missus." Snib's grin is all broken teeth. "Cross me black little heart." Elara looks at me. Searching for absolution. For a silent benediction that she has navigated this hell correctly. I give her a small nod. "Now STRIP," Snib commands. "Both of ye. Nice and slow-like."](else:)["Elara, don't-" Her head snaps toward me. Those blue eyes blaze-fury and desperation fighting for her face. "Don't WHAT, Aldric? Don't try to keep us together? Don't-" "He's *manipulating* you." My voice comes out strained. The collar hums against my throat, not tight, just *aware*. "Every deal you make with him, he-" "I KNOW what he's doing!" Elara's voice cracks. Tears spill down her freckled cheeks. "I'm not STUPID! But what choice do we have? Sleep apart? Let him divide us on the very first night?" "She's got FIRE, this one!" Snib cackles from his fur pile. (playwhenread:"just shut your disgusting mouth")"Shut UP!" Elara screams at him. Her composure shatters completely. "Just-just shut your disgusting MOUTH!" The collar *pulses*. Pain lances through my throat, sharp, brief, a warning. I gasp, hand flying to the metal. Elara's face goes white. "No-no, I didn't mean-" She reaches for me, but the damage is done. The collar has reminded us both of the rules. (change_stat:"elara",-1)(change_stat:"heroism",-1)Snib watches. Savoring it. His cock *twitches* beneath his loincloth. "Ye done?" He picks at his teeth. "Cause the OFFER still stands. Naked. Both of ye. Or wifey sleeps in the corner."](simple_option:"04 strip","Strip.")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")Elara's hands ball into fists at her sides. I watch her calculate: dignity against proximity, pride against warmth. I know what she'll choose before she chooses it. "Fine." The word comes out like she's spitting poison. Her fingers move to the clasp of her travel cloak, practical wool, dusty from the road. "But you turn AROUND, you disgusting little-" "Missus." Snib's voice goes greasy-sweet. "I said I wouldn't WATCH. Didn't say nothin' about turnin' around." Her hands freeze on the clasp. "That wasn't-" "Ye want the straw or the dirt floor?" He settles deeper into his fur pile, those yellow eyes catching torchlight. His loincloth tents obscenely-I can see the shape of that massive cock pressed against the fabric, already thickening. Elara's face cycles through fury, desperation, defeat. Her eyes find mine. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise ashamed.jpg") *I'm sorry*, I try to say with my gaze. *I'm so sorry you're here. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you from this.* She squares her shoulders. Lifts her chin. And begins to undress. The cloak falls first. Beneath it, her traveling clothes: a white linen blouse gone grey with road-dust, brown riding breeches that cling to her legs, tall boots caked with desert sand. She looks at me. Holds my gaze. My fingers find the clasps of my scale-mail top. The metal is warm from my body heat, slick with sweat. I fumble with the mechanism at my back. It doesn't release. "El-" I catch myself. "The clasp. Can you-" She's at my side instantly. Her fingers, cool, capable, *human*, work at the metal. I feel her breath against my shoulder blade. Feel the tremble in her hands. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise breasts spill free.jpg","right","My breasts spill free.")"It won't-" She tugs. The band *tightens* instead of loosening, cinching around my ribs until I gasp. "What in Flux's name-" "The armor." My voice comes out strained. "It... it has a will of its own sometimes." (playwhenread:"jingle",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.34),(a:150,0.22),(a:320,0.26),(a:480,0.15),(a:640,0.18),(a:790,0.10),(a:940,0.12),(a:1080,0.06),(a:1250,0))))She pulls again. The metal band constricts further, and then, with a cruel flourish, it simply *releases*. The front falls away without warning. My breasts spill free. The sound they make is *obscene*. Heavy. Wet. FLOP-SLOSH. Twin masses of pale flesh dropping and bouncing, the momentum carrying them in opposing arcs before they settle into their natural hang, massive, pendulous, capped with nipples that have stiffened in the cool air without my permission. Elara makes a sound. A sound. The sound a body makes before the mind catches up. (playwhenread:"oh aldric dont please")"Oh-" Her voice cracks. "Oh, *Aldric*-" "Don't. Please." "They're so-" She can't finish. Her hand rises, then falls. Rises again. "I told ye, missus." Snib's voice cuts through the moment like a rusty blade. "Yer wifey's got the best TITS in yer humie-town now!" (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara omg.jpg","left","'Oh, *Aldric*-'")"Shut UP!" Elara screams at him. But her eyes haven't left my chest. I force myself to keep undressing. The bottoms come away more easily. A single clasp at my hip and the metal falls away, leaving only the thong underneath. That cursed strip of metal that's been sawing between my asscheeks for hours of riding. I hook my thumbs under the waistband. Hesitate. "Together," Elara whispers. She's working at her own buttons now, fingers trembling on the laces of her blouse. She pulls her blouse over her head. (hidden_gem:"Even in torchlight, even in this cesspit, Elara is *beautiful*. Warm where I am hot. Soft where I am grotesque. Every freckle earned, every curve her own.","Even in torchlight, even in this cesspit, Elara is *beautiful*. Not the brazen, brutish beauty of my bewitched body-but something brighter, something blessed, something burnished by being utterly, bravely, breathtakingly *human*.") Her breasts are perfect handfuls, pale and freckled, tipped with nipples the color of summer roses. Her waist curves inward with natural grace. "Beautiful," I breathe before I can stop myself. Her eyes glisten. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara undress.jpg","left")She pulls down her riding breeches. Steps out of them. Her smallclothes follow, modest white cotton, the kind she wears at home. I watch the fabric slide down her hips, revealing the neat triangle of auburn curls between her thighs, the gentle curve of her mound, the innocence of a body that belongs to *me*. *Mine*, something growls in my chest. A remnant of Aldric. *She's MINE. And that creature is looking at her.* I glance at Snib. His yellow eyes are fixed on Elara's ass, that perfect heart-shaped peach of flesh that I've cupped a thousand times, kissed, bitten, *spanked*. His cock has escaped his loincloth entirely now. Twelve inches of purple-veined meat, drooling precum onto his fur pile. "Nice ARSE on the missus!" he comments cheerfully. "Not as big as YOURS, hero-cunt, but the SHAPE-" "Don't look at her." The collar tightens, a warning, but I don't care. "Don't you DARE look at her." Snib's grin shows every broken tooth. "Make me, titcow."(simple_option:"04 thong","Pull down your thong.")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song",0)

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/3.png")Elara sees.($play:"song","sleeping music") She *sees* the absence where my cock used to be. Sees the smooth mound, the delicate slit, the pink folds that glisten despite myself. Sees what the collar has made of her husband. (playwhenread:"dont cry love please")"*Aldric*." Her voice breaks on my old name. Tears stream down her freckled cheeks. "Don't cry." I reach for her. "Please, love, don't-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara hug.jpg","I cry too.") But she does. And she reaches for me. And when our bodies come together, when her modest breasts press against my obscene ones, when her elegant hips meet my flared breeding-curves, when her arms wrap around me and I feel how *small* I am now-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:500,0.04),(a:1000,0.08),(a:1500,0.10),(a:2000,0.12),(a:3000,0.12),(a:4000,0.12),(a:5000,0.10),(a:6000,0.08),(a:7000,0.06),(a:8000,0.04),(a:9000,0.02),(a:10000,0)))) I cry too. (hidden_gem:"We stand there naked in a goblin's hovel, holding each other while the monster watches, and we *weep*.","We weep, wretched and wound together, two women wailing in a wicked warren while the watching worm wallows in our woe.")(simple_option:"04 bed","Lead her to the straw pile.","Let her lead you.")($play:"sex loop",0)

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")(if:$choice is "Lead her to the straw pile.")[I'm bringing my wife to *my* 'bed'. Where I've slept alone for days. Where I've touched myself in the dark, hating every sensation. Where Snib's musk has seeped into my pores. (playwhenread:"its nothing like home but",(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.03,"periodMs",2800,"forever",true))"Here." I lower myself first, the straw crackling beneath me. My tits sway with the motion, settling against my chest in ways that still feel *wrong*. "It's not... it's nothing like home, but-" "It's with you." Elara follows me down. Her skin is cool against my fever-warmth. "That's all that matters." We arrange ourselves in the narrow space, barely enough room for two grown women to lie side by side. I pull her close, spooning against her back the way I used to do as Aldric. But everything is different now. My breasts press against her shoulder blades, soft flesh spreading and conforming to her contours. My arm, draped over her waist, brushes the underside of her breast, and I feel the difference keenly. "You're so warm," she whispers. "Yes." I press my lips to her hair. "And you smell..." She trails off. I know what she's smelling. The scent the collar makes me produce. The scent designed to drive goblin males wild. "I'm sorry." "Don't be." She takes my hand, brings it to her lips. "It's still you. Under everything, it's still you."](else:)[She takes my hand. Guides me across the packed-earth floor, three steps, four, her bare feet silent, to the pile of straw that serves as my bed. "Lie down," she says. Her voice has that healer's calm, the one she uses with frightened patients. "Let me hold you." I lower myself into the straw. It crackles beneath me, sharp stalks poking at my bare skin, nothing like the cotton sheets of our bed at home. My tits settle against the rough material, the sensation making me wince. She follows. Curls around me from behind, her arm draping over my waist. Her breasts press against my back, modest, warm, *human*. Her hips fit against my ass like they were made for this position. But I'm so much *bigger* now. My hip flares out beyond hers. My ass, even lying on its side, is a hill she has to accommodate. When she reaches around to hold me, her hand brushes the underside of my breast, and I feel her hesitate. "They're so heavy," she murmurs. Not accusation. Just... observation. "I know." "Does it hurt?" "It doesn't hurt, but the armor..." I trail off. "They force my posture into something that can support the weight." She's quiet for a moment. Her fingers trace patterns on my belly-that soft, delicate surface, so different from the hard abs I used to have. "You're beautiful," she says finally. I choke on a laugh that turns into a sob. "I'm *disgusting*. I'm built like a-" "Shh." She kisses the back of my neck. "You're my husband."] (playwhenread:"hay")(unless:$abridged)[Outside, a sound rises from the lean-to. A wet, rhythmic SLAP-SLAP-SLAP that makes my stomach clench.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.10,"peakTo",0.14,"baseFrom",0.03,"baseTo",0.03,"intervalFrom",1200,"intervalTo",1200,"attackMs",50,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.12,"depthJitter",0.04)) Elara goes rigid against me. "What is that?" I know what it is. The sound of Jarkrond taking what he wants. The sound of Clover giving in. "The horses," I say carefully. The mare screams. Something like ecstasy. "Oh gods." Elara's voice is small. "Is he-" "Yes." (hidden_gem:"The sounds continue. SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP. Clover's whickers have changed-higher, needier, broken by gasping whinnies.","The sounds swell and sustain. SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP. Clover's cries have changed-climbing, cresting, crescendoing into something carnal and conquered and completely, sickeningly surrendered.") (pic:"ch04/bad end/mare.jpg","right")"She was so scared of him when we arrived," Elara whispers. "I know." "Now she sounds like she's... like he had " She doesn't finish. We lie there in the dark, two naked women in a goblin's hut, listening to a mare being bred into submission. Snib's wet snores provide counterpoint from across the room. ]"Aldric?" Elara's voice is barely audible. "Yes?" "Do you want me to call you that? Or..." She hesitates. "Or Elise?" The question cuts deeper than any blade. I think of the collar around my throat. The name it whispered to Snib. "El-Elise," I manage. "It's... it's easier. For now." "I don't care what body you're in." Her voice cracks but doesn't break. "I don't care what that collar makes you wear or what sounds you make or what shape your flesh takes. You're *mine*. You've been mine since you bled on my roses and I stitched you back together. And I am NOT letting some three-foot goblin take that away." Tears slide down my cheeks and into the straw. "I love you," I whisper. "I know." She presses closer. Her body heat seeps into my back, familiar despite everything. "Now sleep. We're going to need our strength." I close my eyes. Try to ignore the sounds from outside, Clover's whinny dissolving into something that sounds almost like a moan. I cling to Elara. Cling to what's left of myself. (hidden_gem:"Tomorrow begins thirty days of hell.","Tomorrow tolls its terrible bell. Thirty thankless, tormenting, teeth-grinding turns of trial in this thrice-damned territory.")(simple_option:"04 prayer","Pray together before sleep.","Just hold her and try to rest.")($play:"sex loop","elara sleeping")($play:"song","sleeping music")

($play:"song","sleeping music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/2.png")(if:$choice is "Pray together before sleep.")[We pray the old way. The way my mother taught me, the way Elara learned from the traveling priests who visited her father's herb-shop. "Eon remembers," I whisper, touching my forehead. "Who we were." "Flux turns the wheel," Elara responds, touching her heart. "Through what we are." "Through Verge's door," we say together, touching our lips. "To what we might become." The words feel hollow in this place. The Triad seems very far away: Eon with his hourglass, Flux with their braided river, Verge with their door full of stars. What door could possibly lead out of this? But Elara's hand finds mine. Squeezes. "We'll make it through," she says. "Thirty days. Then we pay him, and this is over." I want to believe her. Want to believe that in thirty days we'll walk out of this hovel unchanged, our love intact, our dignity preserved. But I remember the handjob in the Silver Stag. The deals I've already made. The compromises I've already accepted. Elara doesn't know about any of that. "Thirty days," I echo. "And then we go home." She presses her face into my hair. Her breathing slowly evens out. Outside, Clover has gone quiet. Whether from exhaustion or satisfaction, I can't tell.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:400,0.08),(a:800,0.04),(a:1200,0))))](else:)[The Triad feels very far away-what door could possibly lead out of this? Instead, I hold her. Press my face into her autumn hair and breathe in lavender and road-dust and *Elara*. Memorize this moment: her heartbeat against me, her warmth seeping into my cursed flesh, her love surrounding me like armor that the collar can't corrupt. "Sleep," she murmurs. "I've got you." *But who's going to protect YOU?* Her breathing evens out. I stay awake, watching shadows dance on the mud-brick walls, listening to Snib's wet snores and the distant sounds of Jarkrond finishing his conquest of Clover.](pic:"ch04/bad end/elara elise sleep.jpg")(simple_option:"04 day 2","The next day...")($play:"sex loop","elara sleeping")

($play:"sex loop","elara sleeping")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.03,"periodMs",2800,"forever",true))(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png")($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert wind")(playwhenread:"hay")(set:$spooning to (get_choice:"04 bed","Lead her to the straw pile."))(if:$spooning)[(pic:"ch04/bad end/sleep morning.jpg","right")](else:)[(pic:"ch04/bad end/sleep nonspooning.jpg","right")](hidden_gem:"The sun is already high enough to send daggers of gold through every crack in Snib's hovel. We slept a long time. Exhaustion dragged us down like stones in deep water.","The sun sends slender, sharp, shimmering stilettos of gold through every sorry crack in Snib's squalid shelter. We slumbered long-sunk like stones in some still, silent, subterranean sea of spent despair.") I don't open my eyes yet. (if:$spooning)[My arm is draped over Elara's waist, my chest pressed against her back. Sometime in the night, my breasts found their own arrangement-the lower one *flattened* against the straw beneath us, the upper one *spilling* forward over my ribcage, its weight settling against Elara's shoulder blade like a living thing seeking warmth. I can feel my nipple-that obscene, berry-swollen thing-pressed into the hollow between her shoulders. Her hair is in my face. Autumn-fire strands caught in my lips, my lashes. The smell of her-lavender and road-dust and *Elara*-mingles with something else.](else:)[Elara's arm is draped over my waist, her breasts pressed against my back. Her body curves around mine like she's holding something too large, too *soft*. My breasts have found their own arrangement during the night-both *pooling* forward, the lower one half-buried in straw, the upper one resting against my forearm like a sack of grain. Her breath stirs the hair at the nape of my neck. Warm. Steady. *Human*.] The *collar* is warm against my throat. Always warm. A reminder of ownership that never sleeps, even when I do. The iron hums faintly, like a tuning fork struck hours ago and still vibrating.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.02,"periodMs",400,"forever",true)) Between my thighs: damp.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:500,0.06),(a:1000,0.10),(a:1500,0.14),(a:2000,0.12),(a:2500,0.10),(a:3000,0.08),(a:3500,0.06),(a:4000,0.04),(a:4500,0),"resumeAfter",true))) My body leaks now, apparently-produces slick even in sleep, even in dreams where I'm still *Aldric*, still *whole*. I clench my thighs together and feel skin slide against skin. *Her* skin against *mine*. Elara's bare thigh is wedged between my legs. Her knee pressed against- I force myself to stillness. Don't move. Don't *breathe* wrong.(simple_option:"04 morning stir","Stir... and wake her.","Lie still. Take it in.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")(if:$choice is "Stir... and wake her.")[($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$spooning)[I shift my weight. Just slightly. But these *breasts*- The movement sends my upper tit *sliding* across Elara's back, the nipple dragging against her skin with a friction that makes me gasp before I can stop myself.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:300,0.12),(a:600,0.18),(a:800,0.22),(a:1000,0.18),(a:1200,0.14),(a:1400,0.10),(a:1600,0.06),(a:1800,0),"resumeAfter",true))) The sound is small. Elara stirs. "Mmm..." Her voice is sleep-thick, confused. Her hand finds my arm where it's draped over her waist. Her fingers trace up to my wrist-then stop. She's feeling the *thinness* of it. The delicacy. The absence of the calluses she used to know. "Aldric?" The name comes out broken. Then: "Elise. I mean-" She turns in my arms, and suddenly we're face to face. (hidden_gem:"Her sapphire eyes are swimming. Red-rimmed from yesterday's tears. But she's *looking* at me. Really looking. At the face that isn't mine, the lips too full, the jaw too soft.","Her sapphire stare swims-stung, sleepless, still streaked with yesterday's sorrow. But she's *seeing* me. Searching. Studying this strange, soft-jawed, sinfully-lipped, stolen face she somehow still calls *spouse*.") Her hand rises. Touches my cheek. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara wakeup.jpg","'I thought I dreamed...'") "You're really here," she whispers. "I thought I dreamed-" "I'm here." My voice catches. Her gaze drops. To my chest. To the mass of flesh that's pressed between us now-her modest breasts meeting my huge ones, hers barely making contact while mine *spread* and *conform* around her like they're trying to swallow her whole.](else:)[($play:"sex loop",0)I shift against her. Just slightly. But my *ass*- The movement sends my hips *grinding* backward into her pelvis, the soft flesh of my rear *dimpling* against her hip bones. She makes a small sound-surprised, not quite awake. Her arm tightens around my waist. Her hand, which had been resting against my belly, slides *up*. And stops. Her palm is pressed against the *underside* of my breast. The *weight* of it. The impossible *heaviness* that wasn't there when she last held me as a wife holds a husband. "Oh." Her voice is barely a breath. She turns me toward her. Or tries to. My breasts *slosh* with the motion, settling between us like unwanted guests at a reunion. Her eyes find mine. Red-rimmed. Swimming. "You're really here," she whispers. "I thought-when I woke up and felt-" Her hand is still on my breast. She seems to realize this suddenly, and her cheeks flush. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" "It's alright." My voice catches. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara wakeup.jpg","'You're really here...'") Her gaze drops to where her hand rests. To the *flesh* that fills her palm and spills beyond it.]](else:)[(if:$spooning is "Lead her to the straw pile.")[I don't move. I just... *feel*. The weight of my arm across her waist. The press of my breasts against her back, *gods*, I can feel every point of contact. The flattened lower one aching slightly from hours of pressure. The upper one *heavy* against her shoulder blade, my nipple a hard point that I can't seem to soften. Her breathing is even. Slow. She's still asleep.($play:"sex loop","elara sleeping") I press my face into her hair and *breathe*. Lavender. Road-dust. The faint salt of dried tears. The *collar* pulses gently. Like a cat that knows you're awake even when you pretend to sleep. Elara's thigh shifts against mine. The *slide* of skin-on-skin sends a tremor through my belly that has nothing to do with the cold. I bite my lip. Hard. Use the pain to anchor myself. This is still *me*. This is still *my wife*. These are still *our* bodies, pressed together in a monster's hovel, surviving.](else:)[I don't move. I just... *feel*. Her arm around my waist. The swell of her chest against my back, so *small* compared to the weight pooled beneath my own body. My breasts have found their own arrangement, both *forward*, one half-buried in straw and aching, the other resting on my forearm like something I'm carrying. Her breath stirs the fine hairs at my nape. Her hand, splayed across my belly, rises and falls with my breathing.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",3200,"forever",true))($play:"sex loop","elara sleeping") So *normal*. So *domestic*. As if we're back in our cottage, as if Eboncrest is just outside the window, as if I'm still- The *collar* pulses. Gentle. Almost *amused*. *You're not*, it seems to say. *You're here. You're MINE. And soon she'll understand that too.* I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. The wetness between my thighs *spreads*.]] From across the hut: a wet, rattling snore.(simple_option:"04 morning snib","The goblin...")

($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/4.png")(hidden_gem:"Snib is sprawled on his fur pile like a toad on a lily pad, warty belly rising and falling with each rattling breath.","Snib sprawls upon his fetid fur pile like a fat, flatulent frog upon a foul lily pad, his fulsome frame falling and inflating with each feculent, phlegm-freighted, phantasmagorically foul breath.") His loincloth has ridden up-or been pushed aside-and his *cock*... *Gods*. (pic:"ch04/bad end/morning snib.jpg","*Gods.*") It's *out*. Soft, but still horrifying-eight or nine inches of green-purple meat lying across his thigh like a sleeping eel. The *smell* hits me then. The general reek of the hovel, the piss-corner, the refuse, the ancient stains. And something *sharper*. *Greener*. Goblin musk concentrated by hours in enclosed space, thick enough to *taste*. My stomach turns. My nipples stiffen.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:400,0.12),(a:800,0.18),(a:1200,0.22),(a:1600,0.18),(a:2000,0.14),(a:2400,0.10),(a:2800,0.06),(a:3200,0),"resumeAfter",true))) *No. NO. My WIFE is being exposed to this!* Elara sees where I'm looking. Her face goes through colors: confusion, recognition, *fury*. (playwhenread:"ugh that disgusting")"That *disgusting*-" Her voice is still sleep-rough, but the fire is there, immediate and blazing. "Lying there with his-his THING out, like he owns-" The collar *clamps*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.70),(a:300,0.74),(a:600,0.78),(a:900,0.80),(a:1200,0.82),(a:1500,0.80),(a:1800,0.78),(a:2100,0.74),(a:2400,0.70),(a:2700,0.65),(a:3000,0.58),(a:3200,0.48),(a:3400,0.35),(a:3600,0.20),(a:3800,0.10),(a:4000,0)))) *CLAMPS*, iron fingers closing around my windpipe with brutal, absolute force. I can't gasp. Can't wheeze. Can't make *any* sound because there's no air to make sounds *with*- (playwhenread:"elise choke 1")(pic:"ch04/bad end/collar punish.jpg") Elara's still talking to me, her outrage building, but I can't hear the words anymore because my vision is going *grey* at the edges and my hands are clawing at the metal and my body is *writhing* in the straw, naked and obscene, tits *flopping* with the motion, and time *stretches*- -one heartbeat where I'm drowning in air that won't come- -two heartbeats and my lungs are *screaming*- -three and I'm going to die, I'm going to *die* in a goblin's hut while my wife watches- -*four*- Release. The collar loosens. Air floods in. I *gasp*-a wet, wretched sound-and Elara's face appears above me, her sapphire eyes wide with horror. "*Elise*-what-I didn't-" Her hands are on my shoulders. On my throat. *On the collar*. "Did I-was it because I-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/when you insult him.jpg","'When you... insult him...'") "Yes." The word scrapes out of me. "When you... insult him... even to me... I..." Understanding crashes across her face like a wave.(simple_option:"04 collar punishment","She understands.")($play:"song",0)

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")"Let me see-" Elara reaches for my throat. Her fingers touch the metal. She *yanks* them back with a hiss, cradling her hand against her chest. "It's *burning*-how are you-" I touch the metal. Warm. Only *warm* to me. "It doesn't... hurt me the same way," I manage. "Perhaps if... you are not trying to examine it." (hidden_gem:"Elara's face crumples. She's staring at the red marks already forming on her fingertips.","Elara's face fractures, folds, falls inward upon itself. Her fingertips flare with fresh, fierce welts-the first of many fees this foul collar will demand for the sin of feeling.") "What has he *done* to you?" she whispers.(simple_option:"04 awake","Snib wakes up.")($play:"song",0)

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/6.png")($play:"song","desert blues")(hidden_gem:"A grunt from the fur pile. Snib rolls to his feet-*no*, *oozes* like pond scum finding its shape.","A grunt gurgles from the grimy pile. Snib gropes toward verticality-*glomps*-like some grotesque glob of green grease gradually, grudgingly gaining a goblinoid shape.") Three feet of warty green flesh waddling toward the cold fire pit. His cock swings with each step-still *out*, still *chubbed*, ten inches of grey-green meat crusted with dried *something*. He squats. Spreads his stubby legs. *Aims*. (playwhenread:"snib peeing 2")The stream hits the dead coals like a *bursting sluice*. Yellow, *steaming*, thick enough to be heard across the room, a pressurized HISSSS that sends ash swirling(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:300,0.22),(a:600,0.32),(a:1000,0.38),(a:2000,0.40),(a:3000,0.38),(a:4000,0.40),(a:5000,0.36),(a:6000,0.38),(a:7000,0.34),(a:8000,0.30),(a:9000,0.22),(a:10000,0.16),(a:10500,0.22),(a:10700,0.14),(a:10900,0.08),(a:11100,0)))) and raises clouds of acrid vapor. His cock *jerks* with the force of it, that massive shaft *trembling* as the geyser continues and continues and *continues*- *How much piss can one creature HOLD?* Finally it slows. Stops. He *shakes*- -FLAP-FLAP-FLAP-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:200,0.16),(a:400,0.14),(a:600,0)))) -heavy, meaty, wet-sounding- -and turns toward us with a broken-toothed grin. "MORNIN', cunts!" Elara's jaw tightens. But she doesn't speak. *Good*, I think. *Good*. "Sleep well?" Snib waddles closer, scratching his belly. "I know *I* did. Had some REAL nice dreams." His yellow eyes drop to our naked bodies-still tangled together, my tits spilling against Elara's modest chest, our thighs interlocked. "Seein' ye two like THAT... really gets a gobbo's blood goin' in the mornin', it does."(simple_option:"04 armor","Reach for your armor.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/shockedbikini.png")My fingers find- *No.* (hidden_gem:"Three triangles of black scale-metal. Two for my breasts-barely larger than my *palms*. One for my cunt-a narrow point connected to thin chains that disappear into coils.","Three tiny triangles of terrible, tar-black metal. Two for my tits-trifling, taunting, barely broader than my trembling palms. The third: a tapered, threadlike travesty trailing thin chains into treacherous, tinkling coils.") Not the band. Not yesterday's version that covered something. (hidden_gem:"The metal is *warm* under my fingers. *Pulsing* slightly, like something alive and amused.","The metal is warm and wanton beneath my fingers, wriggling, *pulsing*-like something wicked and watchful, willful and wry, alive and altogether amused at my abasement.")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",1400,"duration",4000)) "What-" Elara's voice is thin. Confused. "What *is* that? That's not what you were wearing yesterday-" "It-" My throat closes. "Oh THAT?" Snib's voice cuts through. He's grinning, scratching his balls with casual ownership. "The armor REVERTS, see? When I want it to. When IT wants to." His yellow eyes gleam. "Ye didn't think I'd let her cover them ASSETS forever?" Elara's face goes white. "This is-" She stares at the triangles. At the chains. At the *nothing* they'll protect. "This is what you were wearing *before*? That... that BAND was the *better* version?" "The NICE version," Snib corrects cheerfully. He waddles closer. "And if YE want her back in it, missus..." His grin splits his face. "...show me yer TITS."(simple_option:"04 deal","The first deal of the day.")($play:"song","desert blues")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/5.png")(hidden_gem:"The triangles dangle from my fingers as I look on in horror.","The triangles twist from my trembling fingers-three trifling tokens of total, tyrannical, theatrical dominion dangling like a despot's dice.")($play:"song","desert blues") (pic:"ch04/bad end/react.jpg","right")"Show ye yer TITS," Snib repeats, savoring each word. "Just a quick FLASH. And I'll let hero-cunt wear the NICE version all day." Elara's hands are shaking. I can see her calculating: *one moment of exposure versus hours of my humiliation*- "Don't. Elara, *don't*-" The collar *pulses*. Warning.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:400,0.18),(a:800,0.22),(a:1200,0.18),(a:1600,0.12),(a:2000,0.06),(a:2400,0)))) "She's me PROPERTY, missus." Snib's voice is silk and broken glass. "Ye can't tell her what to do. Only *I* can do that." Elara's jaw sets. That fire, the one I married, the one no collar can leash, blazes in her eyes. "You *disgust* me." Each word is precise. Controlled. "You're vermin. You're *nothing*. And I would sooner cut off my own hands than give you the *satisfaction*-" The collar *CLAMPS*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.20),(a:200,0.35),(a:400,0.45),(a:600,0.50),(a:800,0.48),(a:1000,0.50),(a:1200,0.46),(a:1500,0.42),(a:1800,0.35),(a:2200,0.28),(a:2600,0.20),(a:3000,0.12),(a:3400,0.06),(a:3800,0)))) I drop to my knees, gasping, clawing at the iron. Elara's at my side instantly- "NO! I didn't-I wasn't insulting-" Her hands hover uselessly. "I was just saying NO-" "That was yer free one, missus." Snib bares his teeth. All nine of them.(simple_option:"04 dress","Put on the armor.")($play:"song","desert blues")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/6.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/bikini armor.jpg","The triangles are *smaller* than before.")($play:"song","desert blues") I don't let Elara watch. "Turn around," I tell her. My voice is steadier than I feel. "Please." She does. Her shoulders shake. (playwhenread:"jingle",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:300,0.12),(a:600,0.16),(a:900,0.18),(a:1200,0.16),(a:1500,0.14),(a:1800,0.12),(a:2100,0.10))))The triangles are *smaller* than before. I swear they are. When I press the first one over my left nipple, the metal *conforms*, warm, almost *hungry*, and I watch in sick fascination as the edges barely extend beyond my areola. I'm back to having almost NOTHING covered. The second triangle settles over my right breast. My nipple presses against it from inside, making a visible *point* in the metal. The thong is worse than I remember. (pic:"ch04/bad end/wear thong.jpg","The thong is worse than I remember.") I have to *pull* it into place. The chain slides between my asscheeks with a cold *slither*, and when I release it- *SNAP*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:60,0.22),(a:150,0.28),(a:250,0.16),(a:400,0.20),(a:550,0.12),(a:700,0.16),(a:900,0.10),(a:1100,0.08),(a:1400,0.06),(a:1800,0.04),(a:2200,0)))) -it *cinches*, riding up until the metal strip is *sawing* into my cleft, pressing against my- I bite back a sound. "Ye can look NOW, missus!" Snib calls cheerfully. Elara turns. Her face *breaks*. "Oh-" A hand flies to her mouth. "*Aldric*-" I stand before her in three scraps of metal and miles of exposed flesh. My tits *bulge* around the triangles, flesh spilling from every side. The thong has disappeared completely between my asscheeks, leaving nothing but bare curves and that thin chain bisecting them. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise bikini top.jpg","'Don't look at me like that...'") "Don't look at me like that," I whisper. "Please." She crosses to me. Her hands hover-wanting to touch, afraid to. "I'm so sorry." Tears track down her freckled cheeks. "I'm so *sorry*... Elise."(simple_option:"04 day2 hunt","Later that day...")($play:"song","desert blues")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/1.png")($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song",0)"Right then!" Snib waddles toward his fur pile. "Time fer WORK. Hero-cunt-ye're goin' HUNTIN'. Need meat. Desert hare, sand-lizard, whatever ye can catch." My stomach drops. "How long?" "Long as it TAKES." His yellow eyes gleam. "Them sand-hares don't catch themselves, do they? Come on, ye did it before." I look at Elara. She looks at me. (hidden_gem:"She'll be alone with him.","She'll be solitary. Sequestered. Stranded with that snickering, scheming, squalid little sovereign of filth.") "I'll come with-" Elara starts. "NAH." Snib waves a dismissive hand. "Missus stays HERE. Got CLEANIN' to do. Scrubbin'. Preppin' stuff. Like she said." His grin widens. "Woman's work." "I won't leave her alone with-" The collar *hums*. "Ye'll do what I SAY, titcow." Snib's voice hardens. Elara grabs my arm. Her grip is iron. "I'll be fine." Her voice doesn't waver. "I've handled worse than a three-foot monster with delusions of kingship." The collar *pulses*, but softly. Almost... *amused*. Snib cackles. "I *like* her." I don't want to go. But the collar is already *warm* around my throat, and Snib's eyes are already moving over Elara's body like hands, and if I stay- *If I stay, I make it worse.* "Oh, and check on Jarko boy, will ye?"(simple_option:"04 day2 jarkrond","Check the horses first.")($play:"sex loop",0)

($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",2100,"forever",true))The lean-to stinks of horse and something ranker beneath it, the thick musk that coats the back of my throat like oil. I push through the hide flap and the heat hits me, trapped and stale, different from the clean burn of desert morning outside. (hidden_gem:"Clover stands in the far corner, head hanging low, white coat matted. She doesn't acknowledge my entrance. Doesn't lift her head. Just stands there in a posture I've never seen from her in three years of Elara's gentle ownership.","Clover cowers in the corner, coat clotted, cranium drooping in capitulation. She cannot-or will not-acknowledge my coming. Cannot lift her crown. Just crouches there, crumpled, in a collapse I've never catalogued in three careful years of Elara's custodianship.") (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond.jpg","Jarkrond fills the space between us.","right")Jarkrond fills the space between us. His oversized ears swivel toward me, blood vessels visible beneath the thin skin, and those orange-amber eyes fix on my face with an intelligence that has nothing equine about it. He knows more than a horse should. I can see it in the way he watches me: as a rival assesses a threat. Or prey. His nostrils slit open, tasting the air. I know what he's smelling: the scent the collar makes me produce. Then, with the unhurried deliberation of something that has all the time in the world, his cock begins to drop.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:1000,0.10),(a:2000,0.12),(a:3000,0.14),(a:4000,0.16),(a:5000,0.18),(a:6000,0.16),(a:7000,0.14),(a:8000,0.12),(a:9000,0.10)))) It emerges from the sheath in a long, wet *schluck*, pink-grey and mottled, thick as my forearm, lowering inch by obscene inch until it hangs between his forelegs like a battering ram at rest. The head alone is the size of my fist. Liquid beads at the tip, catches the light from the gaps in the lean-to's walls, and drips onto the packed earth with a soft *pat*. He just *waits*.(simple_option:"04 jarkrond response","Push past him. Assert yourself.","Wait for him to move.","Speak to him softly.","matters")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/5.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/horses.jpg","left")(if:$choice is "Push past him. Assert yourself.")[I step forward. My spike heels elevate me slightly-but even so, I do not achieve an intimidating stature. The metal triangles covering my nipples feel like targets painted on my skin. *I am Aldric the Great. I've killed countless monsters. I will NOT be intimidated by a HORSE.* "Move." My voice doesn't waver. Jarkrond's ears flatten in assessment. His orange eyes hold mine and I feel something pass between us, something that has nothing to do with human language or animal instinct. He understands defiance, apparently. He steps aside. One pace. Just enough for me to squeeze past if I press myself against the mud-brick wall. As I edge through the gap, his muzzle drops toward my shoulder. Hot breath washes over my bare skin. He inhales, *deeply*, and a low rumble builds in his chest that I feel through the soles of my feet.](else-if:$choice is "Wait for him to move.")[I stop. He wants me to challenge him. I can see it in the set of his shoulders, the way his weight shifts forward almost imperceptibly. He *wants* this confrontation. Wants to establish the hierarchy now, before- But with everything going on, I don't need to be making an enemy of a *horse.* I lower my eyes. Not all the way, I'm not prey, not yet, but enough. A half-concession. The language of horses, which Aldric knew well. (change_stat:"jarkrond",1)*You're the dominant one here. I acknowledge it. Now let me fucking PASS already.* Seconds stretch. My heart pounds against my ribs, each beat making my barely-covered breasts shift and tremble in ways I can't control. Finally, Jarkrond turns. He moves to stand beside Clover, and the white mare-my wife's gentle, sweet mare-*leans* into him. Presses her flank against his. Her tail lifts higher. The path is clear. I don't look at his cock as I check the water trough, the feed. I keep my eyes on everything *except* the two of them, standing together like they've always belonged that way.](else:)["Easy," I murmur. "Easy, boy."(playwhenread:"easy boy") The words feel wrong in this voice, too high, too soft, but I pitch them low anyway, the way Aldric used to gentle spooked horses after battle. A sound without threat. Without challenge. Jarkrond's ears prick forward. Interested. (change_stat:"jarkrond",2)(change_stat:"heroism",1)*Dangerous*, something whispers in my mind. *Don't make friends with this... thing-* (playwhenread:"i just need to check on clover")"I just need to check on Clover." I take a slow step closer. Then another. My hands are visible at my sides, palms out. "I'm not here to challenge you. I'm not-" His muzzle swings toward me. I freeze.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:500,0.12),(a:1000,0.18),(a:1500,0.22),(a:2000,0.20),(a:2500,0.22),(a:3000,0.18),(a:3500,0.14),(a:4000,0.10),(a:4500,0.06),(a:5000,0)))) He's close enough now that heat radiates off his hide. I can see the individual hairs of his dark spine-ridge, can smell the salt-sweet musk of him beneath the reek of sex. His nostrils flare. He breathes me in, long, slow, *thorough*. Then his lips peel back. A low rumble vibrates through his chest, travels through the ground, and I feel it in my bones.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:500,0.18),(a:1000,0.24),(a:1500,0.28),(a:2000,0.26),(a:2500,0.28),(a:3000,0.24),(a:3500,0.20),(a:4000,0.14),(a:4500,0.08),(a:5000,0)))) He turns away. Walks to stand beside Clover. But his eyes never leave me.] Once I've ensured my wife's mare is alright, I leave faster than dignity allows.(simple_option:"04 hunting","Head out for the hunt.")

($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/concentrated/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/hunt.jpg") The bow I made has maybe two good shots left before the string frays through. (hidden_gem:"The desert spreads before me in waves of amber and gold, the Shifting Sands living up to their name as morning winds reshape the dunes.","The desert dazzles before me in dunes of deep amber and dusted gold, the Shifting Sands dancing to their dire designation as dawn winds draft and dismantle and redraw each desolate ridge.") My armor, *gods*, these scraps of metal that pretend to be armor, has already begun to *heat*. The first hour is the worst. My tits *swing* with every step, the tiny triangles shifting and scraping until my nipples feel raw. The thong has found a new configuration, higher, tighter, the chain *separating* me with every stride until I'm walking bow-legged. I don't remember it being this uncomfortable before. Sand works its way into every crevice, grinding against the places where metal meets flesh. But with all that, Aldric's training didn't leave with his body. There, the telltale mound of a sand-hare burrow, the morning entrance still damp from dew-collection. I crouch, wincing as the thong *rides* up even further, and nock an arrow with hands that remember how even if they're too small now.(simple_option:"04 hunt patience","Wait. Let the prey come to you.","Flush them out. Speed over stealth.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/2.png")(if:$choice is "Wait. Let the prey come to you.")[(hidden_gem:"The sand is warm beneath my knees. Not burning-my skin seems to *reject* the punishment the desert should inflict, remaining pale and smooth as cream regardless of how long I kneel here. Another gift from the collar.","The sand sits warm beneath my knees-warm, not wrathful. My skin simply will not weather, will not wither, will not welcome the wounds this wasteland should rightly inflict, remaining pallid and pristine as porcelain. Another perverse present from my prison.") I wait. The wind shifts. Somewhere beyond the next dune, a desert hawk screams its hunting cry. I think about Elara, alone in that hut with him, her fire and her rage and her *love* all turned into weapons he can use against us both. The thoughts that come are splinters in my mind. I've seen how Snib operates now. He makes you *choose* your own fate, and somehow that makes it worse. (playwhenread:"bow rabbit")A nose emerges from the burrow. Whiskers twitching. I release. The arrow flies true, and the hare drops without a sound.](else:)[I stamp my foot near the burrow entrance. The sand vibrates. Deep below, something stirs- Three hares *explode* from the ground in different directions. I loose an arrow at the largest one. Miss by a handspan. The others vanish into the dunes before I can nock again. *Idiot.* Aldric would never have been so clumsy. But Aldric's hands were steady, his stance balanced, his center of gravity somewhere *reasonable*. I give chase. The *bounce* of my chest throws off my aim, the *sway* of my hips changes my stride, everything *jiggles* and *shifts*. But somehow, I remain quick. This form may be ridiculous, but it's *athletic* in its own obscene way. I corner the slowest hare against a rock formation and make the kill. It's... messy. Undignified. Like everything else now.] Need at least one more to feed all of us.(simple_option:"04 hunt continue","Press deeper into the Sands.","Circle back, hunt closer to the hut.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/2.png")(if:$choice is "Press deeper into the Sands.")[(hidden_gem:"The dunes grow taller as I move east, toward where the Shifting Sands earn their name. The ground here is treacherous-what looks solid will swallow your foot to the ankle without warning.","The dunes deepen and darken as I drift eastward, toward where the Shifting Sands truly sing their sinister song. The soil here is a swindler-seemingly solid, secretly starving to swallow your step to the shin without so much as a sigh of warning.") I find myself thinking about the collar. The collar's *origin* haunts me more than its weight. Those ruins beneath Ironrock Mine, the black megaliths that hurt to look at. The collar is *old*. Older than Eboncrest. Older than the kingdom itself, maybe. *What was it FOR?* Any iron ring makes slaves. This thing does more. It *binds* in ways that feel almost religious. When Snib speaks to it, sometimes I swear I can feel it *listening*. A sand-hare breaks from cover thirty yards ahead. I nock my second arrow-my *last* arrow-and draw. The string *snaps*, a clean break that sends the bow limb whipping forward, the arrow tumbling uselessly into the sand. I stare at the ruined weapon in my hands. The hare disappears over a dune. *Damn it. DAMN it.*](else:)[I keep to the familiar terrain, the areas I scouted two days ago. Closer to the hut means closer to *her*, even if I can't see her. The second hare is easier. I find fresh tracks near a patch of scrub-grass, follow them to a warren I'd marked days ago, wait. Patience. Something Aldric never lacked, even when his blood ran hot for battle. The shot is clean. Two hares now, strung together with cord I keep in my belt. I should head back. The sun is climbing toward its zenith, and every minute I'm gone is another minute she's alone with- My bowstring *gives*. Thank the Triad, it happens as I'm slinging it over my shoulder, the tension finally winning against frayed sinew. It parts with a soft *twang* that sounds almost apologetic. I look down at the useless curve of wood in my hands. I'll need to make another. I need to use the gut for string, which means I'll need to clean these hares properly, save the- *Later. Get BACK.*] Two hares will have to be enough.(simple_option:"04 return approach","Hurry back.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(hidden_gem:"The broken bow rattles against my hip as I crest the final dune.","The broken bow batters and bounces against my hip, a battered, bitter relic of bygone competence, as I breach the brow of the final dune.") Smoke rises from the hut, thin and pale against the afternoon sky, the kind that speaks of cookfire rather than disaster. My heart, which had been hammering against my ribs for the last half-mile, begins to slow. *She's fine. She's cooking. Everything is fine.* But I don't slow my pace. The sand shifts beneath the flattened soles of my heels as I half-run, half-stumble down the dune's face, the brace of hares swinging against my thigh, my breasts swaying in their inadequate metal cradles. The hide-flap bursts open. Elara. She's running toward me across the packed sand, her autumn hair streaming behind her, her face- *Smiling?* (pic:"ch04/bad end/return approach.jpg") (playwhenread:"youre back i was worrying")"You're back!" She reaches me in a rush of lavender and woodsmoke, her arms wrapping around my waist, her cheek pressing against the bare curve of my shoulder. "I was starting to worry-the sun was getting so high-" "I'm fine." I hold her with my free arm, the hares dangling awkwardly from the other. "I caught two. The bow broke, but-" "Never mind that." She pulls back, still smiling, too *bright*, I think, too *quick*, and takes the hares from my hand. "I've laid out clothes for you. *Real* clothes. Go change while I prep these." I blink. "What?" "He changed his mind." She's already turning away, already heading for the cookfire, her voice carrying that forced cheerfulness like a shield. "Isn't that wonderful? Go on-they're on the straw pile." Behind her, in the doorway of the hut, Snib leans against the frame. His arms are crossed over his warty chest. His yellow eyes find mine across the distance, and his broken-toothed grin spreads slow. He doesn't say anything.(simple_option:"04 clothes choice","'Elara-what happened while I was gone?'","Accept the gift. Don't push.","matters")

(if:$choice is "'Elara-what happened while I was gone?'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/6.png")I catch her arm before she can reach the cookfire. "Elara." She stops. Doesn't turn. "What happened?" For a moment, just a moment, I see something flicker across her profile. A tightness around her eyes. A slight tremor in the set of her jaw. Then she turns, and the smile is back. Brighter than before. *Harder*. "Nothing happened." She pats my hand where it grips her arm. "I just talked to him. Made him see reason. You know I can be persuasive when I need to be." Her blouse is buttoned wrong. I notice it now, one button off, the fabric pulling slightly at an angle it shouldn't. Such a small thing. "Elara-" "Go *change*, love." She slips free of my grip, gentle but firm. "Please. I want to see you-" Her voice catches. "Just go change. We can talk later." I let her go. What else can I do?](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")I don't ask. (change_stat:"heroism",-2)Part of me wants to, the part that's still Aldric, still the protector, still the one who needs to *know* every threat to his beloved. But there's another part now, newer and more cowardly, that whispers: *If you don't ask, you don't have to know. Elara can handle herself.* "Thank you," I say. Elara's shoulders relax slightly. She squeezes my hand once, quick and grateful, before turning toward the cookfire with the hares. "Go on," she says. "The smallclothes are there too."] (hidden_gem:"A blouse of cream-colored cotton, soft as clouds beneath my fingers. Brown wool breeches, sturdy and practical, the kind village women wear when they're working the fields. Smallclothes of white linen. And boots-*real* boots-leather and flat-soled, with laces that will actually *tie*.","A blouse of cream-colored cotton, cloudlike and clean beneath my clutching fingers. Brown breeches, blessedly broad and practical. Clean, crisp linen smallclothes. And boots-*blessed* boots-leather-laced, level-soled, firm and flat and faithful as a carpenter's covenant.") I strip out of the bikini armor with hands that tremble. The metal comes away reluctantly, like it's *disappointed* to release me. The triangles peel from my nipples with a soft pull that makes me wince. The thong... I have to reach back and *pull* it free from where it's wedged, and the sensation of that metal strip sliding out from between my cheeks is something I will never, *ever* get used to. I stand there for a moment, naked in the dim light of the hut, and just *breathe*. Then Elara's voice floats through the hide-flap: "The long ones are like braies, they tie at the waist." "I'll figure it out." The cotton settles against my skin like a benediction. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise dressing.jpg") The fabric doesn't hide what I've become. My breasts still *move* beneath the blouse, their weight unmistakable, their shape obvious through the thin material. The breeches still strain over hips that are far too wide. But I'm *covered*. Truly covered, for the first time in days. The boots are slightly too small. Elara's feet are even daintier than mine, apparently. When I work my toes into the leather, when I stand and feel the flat solid *ground* beneath me instead of those hellish spike heels... I want to cry.(simple_option:"04 meal","Join them at the cookfire.")($play:"sex loop",0)

(playwhenread:"the clothes are hers now")($play:"sex loop","cooking stew")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/elara nesting.jpg","right","'The clothes are *hers* now.'")The rabbits sizzle over the flame, stuffed with wild herbs that Elara brought from home. It cuts through the perpetual goblin-stink of this place. Snib squats on a flat stone beside the fire pit, his loincloth doing its inadequate work, his yellow eyes tracking between me and Elara with an expression that makes my skin crawl. "NICE getup," he says as I settle onto a stone across from him. "Real PRETTY." Elara doesn't look up from turning the spit. "The clothes are *hers* now." Her voice is flat. Controlled. "She deserves to wear them." "Oh, AYE. She DESERVES all sorts of things." Snib's grin widens. "Lucky fer her, I'm a GENEROUS master." The collar hums against my throat. I watch Elara's hands as she works. The quick, competent movements of a woman who's spent years preparing meals for a household. The way she's already claimed this cookfire as *hers*, organizing the space around it, finding efficiency in chaos. She's good at this. Taking control of environments. Making order from disorder. "I found some roots growing near the well. And I saved the livers-they're good for iron, you need-" She catches herself. Swallows. "You need to keep your strength up." The meal, when it comes, is the best thing I've eaten since the transformation. Tender rabbit, herb-crusted and perfectly cooked, with roasted roots that are bitter but satisfying. Elara serves us both before taking her own portion, moving around the fire with the ease of long practice. I eat in the clothes my wife gave me, my feet flat on the ground, my body covered in soft cotton, and I try to ignore the way Snib's eyes keep drifting to Elara's chest. "Good GRUB, missus!" He tears into his portion with greasy fingers. "Keep cookin' like THIS, and maybe I'll let hero-cunt wear clothes MORE often!" Elara's hand tightens on her bowl. "How generous of you," she grinds out.(simple_option:"04 evening settle","Evening approaches.")($play:"ambience","desert wind")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/1.png")"Right then!" Snib stretches on his fur pile, scratching his belly with theatrical satisfaction. "Same rules as last night, ladies. NAKED. Both of ye." His yellow eyes gleam in the dying light. "Unless the missus wants to renegotiate?" Elara's hands freeze on the bowl she's scrubbing. "No," she says. "The deal stands." We undress in silence: me peeling away the cotton blouse that felt like freedom, Elara unlacing her bodice mechanically. Neither of us looks at the other. Neither of us looks at Snib, though I can *feel* his gaze crawling over our skin like flies on meat. (hidden_gem:"The straw crackles as we settle together. Her back against my chest. My arm around her waist. My breasts pressing into her shoulder blades, heavy and unwanted.","The straw sighs and snaps as we seek solace in shared skin. Her spine against my sternum. My slim arm circling her waist. My breasts, burdensome and unbidden, pressing like sorrowful penitents against her shoulder blades.") We pray together. "What's this EFFEMMERALLS?" Snib's voice cuts through the darkness. "Them... what's it..." I don't answer. Elara's body has gone rigid against mine. "See, HERE'S the thing." He shifts on his furs. "Ye're in SNIB'S house now. Under SNIB'S roof. And in Snib's house..." He chuckles, a sound like gravel in phlegm. "...we follow STORAK." "We don't worship your-" Elara starts. The collar *thwumps*. I squeeze her hand. "Ain't askin' ye to WORSHIP, missus." His grin is audible. "Just... acknowledgin' the situation, like. Yer *wife*-" he says with obvious relish, "-she's wearin' my collar. So she's bound by my laws. And ye know, it's simple! Storak's got only ONE commandment, see?" He pauses. Waits for us to ask.(simple_option:"04 storak","Lie still. Don't engage.","'What commandment?'")($play:"sex loop",0)

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/3.png")(if:$choice is "'What commandment?'")["What commandment?" The words escape before I can stop them. Why am I humoring him? Snib's cackle fills the hut. "SPREAD THE SEED!" He slaps his thigh, delighted. "That's the whole RELIGION! Storak says: find cunts, fill 'em, make more gobbos!" Another wet laugh. "Yer fancy gods with their HOURGLASSES and their DOORS... what do THEY want? Ye to REMEMBER things? To CHANGE things?" He hawks and spits into the darkness. "Storak wants one thing. And he GETS it. Every time a gobbo nuts in a humie, that's PRAYER. Every spawn that pops out, that's WORSHIP." Elara's nails dig into my forearm. "Storak's WINNIN'," Snib continues, warming to his sermon. "More gobbos every year. More cunts full of gobbo goo. More broodmamas prayin' to HIM by the end, beggin' for another load..." "Stop." Elara's voice is barely a whisper. "Oh, I'll stop." The fur pile rustles as he settles back. "Got twenty-nine more days. Tonight..." He yawns obscenely. "Tonight, who cares?" The silence stretches. "G'night, cunts."](else:)[I say nothing. Let him talk. Let his words wash over me like the stink of this place-acknowledged, endured, survived. Snib chuckles. The fur pile rustles as he makes himself comfortable. "See, yer fancy gods..." His voice drops to something almost philosophical, the collar's gift of intelligence turning crude into cruel. "Storak don't want none of that thrakkin' stuff they want. Storak just wants SEED in CUNTS. And ye know what?" He pauses. The silence begs for someone to fill it. "Storak WINS. Every time. 'Cause thinkin' and choosin'... that takes EFFORT. Bodies do what bodies DO. Yer wife's body..." He trails off meaningfully. "Well. She knows what I mean, don't she?" I feel her flinch. "G'night, titcow. G'night, missus." The sounds of him settling. Then, almost as an afterthought: "Twenty-nine days left. Plenty of time for PRAYER."] (hidden_gem:"Snib's snores begin within minutes-that wet, rattling sound I've sadly gotten used to.","Snib's snores start swiftly-that sodden, sputtering, squelching symphony of sinus and phlegm I've so shamefully, so swiftly, so stupidly grown accustomed to.") Elara's hand gropes through the dark and locks around mine. Fierce. Desperate.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.04),(a:200,0.10),(a:400,0.16),(a:600,0.18),(a:800,0.16),(a:1000,0.18),(a:1200,0.16),(a:1400,0.14),(a:1600,0.12),(a:1800,0.10),(a:2000,0.08)))) (playwhenread:"i love you quiet",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:500,0.12),(a:1000,0.16),(a:1500,0.18),(a:2000,0.16),(a:2500,0.14),(a:3000,0.12),(a:3500,0.10),(a:4000,0.08),(a:5000,0.06),(a:6000,0.04),(a:7000,0.02),(a:8000,0)))) The words sound different than yesterday. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara elise sleep.jpg","I hold my wife. Feel her heartbeat against my palm.") I hold my wife. Feel her heartbeat against my palm.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",850,"forever",true))(simple_option:"04 day3 grooming","Close your eyes...")($play:"sex loop","elara sleeping")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/5.png")($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")($play:"ambience","desert morning")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",2100,"forever",true))(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/grooming.jpg","right")The curry comb is a sorry thing, a flat stone. I drag it down Jarkrond's flank for the hundredth time. "This is absurd," I mutter to no one. The ash-runner's grey hide ripples beneath the stone's passage, muscle shifting under skin like snakes beneath silk. "As if you give a damn about your *appearance*. You live around thrakking *goblins*." Jarkrond's ear swivels toward me. Those amber eyes track my reflection in the well-water. Behind me, the hut squats against its dead tree. Smoke curls from the chimney hole. Elara is in there. With *him*. My jaw tightens. (hidden_gem:"Two days now. Two days of Snib finding reasons to keep us apart.","Two days now. Two days of deliberate, devious, diabolical division-Snib designing distance between us with a despot's delighted, diligent precision.") *You do the hunting, hero-cunt. Missus does the cooking. You groom Jarko. Missus mends the roof-thatch. You haul water. Missus-* Always *missus*. Always Elara, alone with him, while I'm sent to the far corners of his miserable territory. The wool of my breeches clings to my thighs, damp with sweat. The cotton blouse, *real clothes*, thank the Triad, has gone translucent where it plasters against my chest, the fabric darkening in a V between my breasts. Moisture pools in the hollow of my collarbone, trickling down to disappear into the valley of my cleavage. This body *sweats*. Profusely. Constantly. As if designed to glisten. I drag the comb down Jarkrond's barrel, working the dust from his coat in long strokes. His hide is fever-warm beneath my touch, radiating heat like sun-baked stone. When I lean close to reach his withers, something *thick* fills my nostrils. It's... salty. Grassy, but also deeper. Like copper left too long in summer rain. I jerk my head back. *Focus. Just finish this and get back to her.* "Ye missin' a spot, cow-tits." I don't turn around. "Go away, Snib," I manage. The collar permits it, as it shares my master's amusement. "Awww, and here I thought ye'd be GRATEFUL." His shadow falls across my work, three feet of it grotesquely elongated by the sun. "Givin' ye a break from the HARD labor. Lettin' ye spend time with Jarko here." "Where's Elara?" "Busy." The word drips satisfaction. "Very busy. Woman's work, ye know." I keep brushing. Long strokes. Even pressure. Don't let him see how the question burns in my chest. "What kind of work?" "Oh, this and that." I hear him scratch himself. The sound is *wet*. "Cleanin'. Organizin'. She's got CLEVER hands, that one. Real good with 'em." The comb stutters against Jarkrond's hide.(simple_option:"04 grope","Keep brushing.","Turn around.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/2.png")(if:$choice is "Keep brushing.")[I don't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. "Ye know what I like about ye, hero-cunt?" I don't answer. Don't engage. "YER ARSE." (playwhenread:"spank yelp 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.64),(a:70,0.42),(a:180,0.30),(a:350,0.36),(a:500,0.22),(a:650,0.28),(a:800,0.16),(a:950,0.20),(a:1100,0.10),(a:1250,0.14),(a:1400,0.06),(a:1600,0))))(pic:"ch04/bad end/spank.jpg","right")His hand *cracks* against my backside without warning, a full-armed swing that sends my body lurching forward, my palms slapping against Jarkrond's flank for balance. (hidden_gem:"The sound echoes off the dunes. SLAP. Meat against meat, the thick flesh of my rear *rippling* with the impact beneath my wool breeches.","The slap shatters the silence of the sands. Skin strikes skin-the soft, shameful surplus of my seat *shuddering* and *shivering* beneath my straining breeches like a struck bell of flesh.")](else:)[I turn- (playwhenread:"spank yelp 1")-and his warty hand *cracks* across my ass before I can register the movement. (hidden_gem:"The sound echoes off the dunes. SLAP. Meat against meat, the thick flesh of my rear *rippling* with the impact beneath my wool breeches.","The slap shatters the silence of the sands. Skin strikes skin-the soft, shameful surplus of my seat *shuddering* and *shivering* beneath my straining breeches like a struck bell of flesh.")] "Look at THAT!" Snib cackles, his stubby fingers gripping a handful of my ass through the fabric. He *kneads* it like bread dough, his claws pricking through the wool.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.14),(a:400,0.26),(a:800,0.32),(a:1200,0.28),(a:1600,0.34),(a:2000,0.28),(a:2400,0.32),(a:2800,0.26),(a:3200,0.20),(a:3600,0.14),(a:4000,0.08),(a:4400,0)))) "Ye could bounce a gold piece off that, ye could! Too bad ye don't got enough..." The collar vibrates against my throat. Jarkrond's head swings around. Those amber eyes find Snib's hand on my body. (playwhenread:"this arse belongs to snib",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.64),(a:70,0.42),(a:200,0.28),(a:400,0.16),(a:600,0.08),(a:1400,0.38),(a:1600,0.44),(a:1800,0.42),(a:2000,0.38),(a:2200,0.30),(a:2400,0.22),(a:2600,0.14),(a:2800,0.06),(a:3000,0))))"Oi, JARKYSKINS." Snib waddles around to face the stallion, pulling me along with him. He jabs a stubby finger at the horse's muzzle. "Don't ye go gettin' IDEAS, boy. This arse-" *SPANK!* "-belongs to SNIB. These tits-" *SQUEEZE-SQUISH!* "-belong to SNIB. This whole bouncy, jiggly, hero-shaped FUCKTOY belongs to SNIB." Jarkrond's nostrils flare. "UNLESS-" Snib's broken-toothed grin spreads. "-unless ye ask REAL nice. Then maybe-MAYBE-I might let ye have a turn." He cackles at his own joke and waddles back toward the hut. "Keep brushin', titcow! Says 'e wants to be GLEAMING!" The hide-flap swallows him. I stand there, my ass still stinging from the impact, and stare at the smoke rising from the chimney. *Elara.* The curry comb feels heavy in my hand.(simple_option:"04 underbelly","Continue grooming.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/3.png")I circle to Jarkrond's other side. His near flank is done, grey hide gleaming dully in the afternoon light, free of the dust that accumulates in these endless sands. Now the far side. Then his legs. Then his- *Underbelly*. I hesitate. Horses need their underbellies groomed like any other part. Aldric did this a hundred times with war-mounts. It's nothing. It's *routine*. I crouch beside him, the worn stone warm in my palm, and begin working the dust from his barrel where it curves beneath his chest. The scent is stronger here.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2000,"forever",true)) Each stroke of the comb releases more of it from his hide, that thick, *living* smell that seems to bypass my nose entirely and settle directly into the base of my skull. My nipples stiffen against the damp cotton of my blouse before I can stop them, two points of sensation I didn't ask for, don't want, can't seem to control.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:200,0.08),(a:500,0.14),(a:800,0.10),(a:1100,0.06),(a:1400,0),"resumeAfter",true))) *It's just a horse. It's just GROOMING. This body reacts to everything.* I work the comb lower, into the shadow of his belly, the sensitive skin where forelegs meet trunk. (hidden_gem:"A sound stops me. A wet, heavy slap of meat shifting against meat.","A sound stalls me-stills me to stone. A slick, salacious, stomach-sinking *slap* of something substantial sliding, slithering, sloughing free of its sweating sheath.") I freeze. From his sheath, that sweat-darkened leather pouch slung between his hindlegs, the beast is emerging.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.14),(a:1500,0.16),(a:3000,0.18),(a:4500,0.20),(a:6000,0.22),(a:7500,0.24),(a:9000,0.22),(a:10500,0.20),(a:12000,0.18),(a:13500,0.16),(a:15000,0.14)))) Pink-grey and glistening, mottled with darker patches where blood pulses beneath the surface. It slides out inch by inch, wet and heavy and *thick*, until it hangs there, half-erect, swinging gently with the rhythm of his heartbeat. The head alone is larger than my fist, flared and blunt and weeping something clear that catches the light before dripping onto the sand. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/cock.jpg","I should look away.","right")I should look away. But my eyes are fixed on it: on the way the veins pulse beneath the mottled skin, on the way the heat radiates off it in visible waves, on the way it *twitches* as if aware of my attention. Jarkrond's head turns. Those amber eyes pin me where I crouch.(simple_option:"04 brush choice","Keep brushing. Horses just... do this.","Stop. Back away.","matters")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")(if:$choice is "Keep brushing. Horses just... do this.")[(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/grooming.jpg","left")*Horses drop when they're relaxed. It means nothing. It's NOTHING.* I force my eyes back to the comb. To his hide. To the *task*. (change_stat:"jarkrond",2)My strokes are shorter now. Quicker. I'm working around the area, avoiding the-the *thing* swinging in my peripheral vision, but I'm still *working*. Just doing what Snib ordered. This is just grooming. This is just a horse being a horse. This body reacts to *everything*, and that doesn't mean anything, and the fact that my thighs are pressing together of their own accord is just-just- (hidden_gem:"The musk fills my lungs with every breath. It feels toxic in a similar way to goblin pheromones...","The musk moves through me like a malevolent miasma-muddling, maddening, marinating my mind in the same malignant manner as goblin pheromones...") I finish his sides. Move to his legs. Keep my head down. When I finally back away, Jarkrond's cock is *fully* erect now, curved upward against his belly, the head kissing his own grey hide, leaving a wet smear of something that glistens in the sun. He watches me walk back toward the hut.](else:)[I scramble backward. The curry comb tumbles from my fingers into the sand. My heel catches on a buried root and I nearly fall, catching myself on the well. (playwhenread:"im done youve been groomed enough")"I'm-" The word comes out strange. "I'm done. You're... you're groomed enough." Jarkrond makes a sound. His cock twitches once-twice-then begins the slow process of retreating into its sheath. The wet *schlurp* of its withdrawal follows me as I turn and walk, *don't run, don't RUN*, toward the hut. I don't look back. But I feel his eyes on me the whole way.](simple_option:"04 go inside","Go back inside.")($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")($play:"ambience","desert wind")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/4.png")The hide-flap parts under my hand. Inside, Elara looks up from the cookfire with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "You're back early," she says. Snib, sprawled on his fur pile, grins.(simple_option:"04 day3 evening","Evening falls...")($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"sex loop",0)

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","losing elara")"Hold still." Elara's fingers are gentle on my forearm, wrapping the linen strip around the gash(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.04),(a:600,0.08),(a:1200,0.10),(a:1800,0.08),(a:2400,0.10),(a:3000,0.08),(a:3600,0.10),(a:4200,0.08),(a:4800,0.06),(a:5400,0.04),(a:6000,0)))) where a thornbush caught me while stalking the rabbit. The cut isn't deep, but it bled freely. (hidden_gem:"The firelight catches the copper in her hair as she works. She's tied it back with a strip of cloth, exposing the freckled column of her neck, the delicate shell of her ear.","The firelight finds the copper in her cascading hair, catches it, cradles it, kindles it to a crown. She's cinched it back with cloth, baring the freckled column of her neck, the curving, cream-pale shell of her ear-a constellation of commonplace, crushingly beautiful things.") Soot smudges one cheekbone. The top button of her blouse hangs open, revealing the hollow of her throat. "There." She ties off the bandage and lifts my arm to inspect her work. "Keep it clean. I'll check it tomorrow." "Thank you." (hidden_gem:"Her smile flickers-there, then gone, like a candle in wind.","Her smile flickers-fragile, fleeting, a flame flinching before a fell wind, found and forfeited in a single, sorry, famishing instant.") "I'm sorry about the rabbit," I say. "I'll try to catch more tomorrow. You must be hungry." "It's *fine*." She's already turning back to the cookfire, where the skinned carcass turns on a makeshift spit. "Tomorrow, try the eastern dunes. Snib says there are thornback bushes that way-" "Snib *says*?" "He knows this area." She's measuring every syllable like medicine. "He lives here. And I need desert sage if I'm going to keep this place from giving us lung-rot. The smoke-hole was completely clogged when we arrived, did you know that? I had to-" She's talking too fast. I watch her stir something in the small pot she brought from home, herbs steeping in well-water, their fragrance cutting through the ever-present goblin musk. Above the fire, bundles of dried plants hang from cords she's strung between the support posts. The straw pile where we sleep has been refreshed, the old stalks replaced with new ones. She's *nesting*.(simple_option:"04 clover talk","Talk about Clover.","Help her with the cooking.")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png")(if:$choice is "Talk about Clover.")[(pic:"ch04/bad end/hows clover.jpg","right")"How's... Clover?" Elara's hands still on the spit. "I... checked on her." She doesn't turn around. "While you were out." "And?" "She's..." A long breath. "She's not fighting him anymore. Jarkrond. She just... stands there. Lets him..." Another breath. "She used to stamp and toss her head when stallions came near. Remember? At the spring market, when Lord Aldworth's stud got loose?" I remember. Clover had nearly kicked the stable door down. "Now she just..." Elara's voice cracks. "She's changing." The fire crackles between us. "Mares that are bred by ash-runners," she says quietly. "I've read about it. They're never the same afterward. Something in the... in the seed. It changes them. Makes them *want*-" She stops. Her shoulders are shaking. "Maybe we should let her go." The words come out rough. "Open the lean-to. Let her find her way back to Eboncrest." "But then how would *we* get back?" Elara turns. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but her jaw is set. "On foot," she says.](else:)[I move to help her with the cooking. Our hands brush as I take the spit from her grip, my fingers too soft, too *small* against hers. I'm used to fully enclosing hers. She lets me turn the rabbit while she tends to the pot, and for a moment we work in silence, side by side, almost like we're back in our cottage. "You've made it nicer in here," I say. "Much nicer." She glances around at her work. (pic:"ch04/bad end/someone had to.jpg","right")"Someone had to." Her voice is flat. "The smell-" She shakes her head. "I couldn't just sit here and do nothing while you were out hunting."] "OI!" Snib's voice cuts through the moment like a blade through silk. He waddles in from somewhere, gods know where he was, and throws himself onto his fur pile like a king returning from war. His loincloth rises, then falls. "That smells BOOYAGH, missus!" He sniffs the air loudly, wetly. "Better than that slop Elise was makin' me!" Elara's spine stiffens. "Thank you," she says. The words sound like they're being pulled from her with tongs. (playwhenread:"see thats what i like")"See, THAT'S what I like!" Snib scratches his balls with one hand, picking his teeth with the other. "A female what knows her PLACE. Cookin'. Cleanin'. Keepin' the hut nice for her MASTER." The collar nestles against my throat. "She's not YOUR-" I start, then stop.(simple_option:"04 meal together","Eat.")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/2.png")The rabbit is small.($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire") (hidden_gem:"Snib gets the haunches-the best meat, the most of it. He tears into it with his bare hands, grease running down his chin, juices spattering onto his fur pile. The sounds he makes are *obscene*.","Snib seizes the shanks-the choicest share, the champion's cut. He shreds and slurps and slobbers, grease streaming down his chin like some grotesque gravy-fall, juices spattering his squalid throne. The sounds he summons are *sacrilege against supper itself*.") Elara and I share what's left. She gives me the larger portion without asking, and I try to give it back, and we do this small dance until she fixes me with a look that says *eat it or I'll force it down your throat myself*. I eat. "Ye need to catch MORE tomorrow, titcow," Snib announces through a mouthful of meat. "One bunny ain't gonna feed three mouths. Well-" He grins. "-two mouths and a CUNT what eats like a bird." "There was only one in the burrow," I manage, tamping down anger. "And I need a better BOW, mine broke again, cutting my..." "S'alright." Elara's hand lands on my knee under the low table she's constructed(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:300,0.10),(a:600,0.12),(a:1000,0.10),(a:1400,0.12),(a:1800,0.10),(a:2200,0.08)))) from scavenged planks. "Tomorrow you can set snares. I'm sure you'll catch more that way." "SNARES!" Snib cackles. "Missus knows her CRAFT, don't she? Real wilderness WIFE. Bet she could survive out here even without ol' Snib to protect her." Elara's grip tightens on my knee.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:200,0.16),(a:500,0.14),(a:800,0.12),(a:1100,0.10)))) "Though, she'd miss me something AWFUL, wouldn't ye, missus?" Silence. "Give us a word, then," Snib prompts. "Go on. Show yer wifey what ye learned today." My blood runs cold. Elara's cheeks flush. Her jaw works. (playwhenread:"gruk thrack")(pic:"ch04/bad end/goblish.jpg","'Gruk-thrak,' she says quietly.","left")"*Gruk-thrak*," she says quietly. The word hits me like a physical blow. I know that word. Every warrior who's fought goblins knows that word-it's their most basic affirmation, their *yes*, their *I understand and comply*. "See?" Snib beams. "She's LEARNIN'! Give her a bit more and she'll be chatterin' away like a proper-" "*Shut up*." Elara's voice is ice. The collar doesn't even twitch. Snib laughs.(simple_option:"04 after meal","Later, while cleaning up...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/3.png")"Elara." She doesn't look up. "That word. The Goblish." "It's just practical." Her voice is too bright. Too controlled. "If I can communicate basic things, he's less likely to... misunderstand. And if he misunderstands..." *The collar punishes ME.* "I know." I set down the bowl. Cross to where she's kneeling by the fire. "I know you're trying to protect me. I know everything you do is for-" "Don't." She holds up a hand. "Please. I can't-I can't do this right now." I kneel beside her anyway. Take her hand in mine. "You smell like horse," she says softly. "I know." "You should wash. Before bed." "Elara-" I lean in. Press my lips to hers.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:500,0.04),(a:1000,0.08),(a:1500,0.12),(a:2000,0.16),(a:2500,0.20),(a:3000,0.22),(a:3500,0.24),(a:4000,0.22),(a:4500,0.20),(a:5000,0.18),(a:5500,0.16),(a:6000,0.14),(a:6500,0.12),(a:7000,0.10),(a:7500,0.08),(a:8000,0.06),(a:8500,0.04),(a:9000,0.02),(a:9500,0)))) (pic:"ch04/bad end/sad kiss.jpg","For a moment-one perfect, aching moment-she kisses me back.") For a moment, one perfect, aching moment, she kisses me back. (hidden_gem:"Her mouth opens slightly, her breath mingles with mine, and I can taste the herbs she's been chewing and the salt of tears she won't admit to.","Her mouth meets mine, her breath blending and braiding with my own, and I taste the bitter herbs she's been chewing and the brine of something breaking behind her beautiful, beleaguered eyes.") Then she pulls away. "Not here." Her voice is barely a whisper. "He's *watching*." I don't turn to look at Snib's fur pile. Don't need to. His yellow eyes are on us like hands.(simple_option:"04 day4 nightmare","The next day...")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")The window of our cottage frames them like a portrait. (hidden_gem:"The glass is fogged with my breath, or perhaps with something else, some membrane between what *was* and what *is* that I cannot breach no matter how I press my palms against it.","The glass grows grey with my breath-or perhaps with something grimmer, some gossamer gauze between what was granted and what is gone, that I cannot grasp or gouge through no matter how I grind my grieving palms against it.") Inside, Elara buckles armor onto Snib's shoulders. He stands on a stool to reach her height, his warty green flesh squeezed into plate that gleams brightly. *My* armor. My helm. She adjusts the pauldrons with the same careful fingers that once dressed wounds on my body, and her face wears an expression I cannot read. "Higher, missus," Snib's voice slithers through the glass. "Snib's shoulders ain't quite the same as yer hubby's." She laughs. The sound pierces me deep. I hammer on the window-*Elara! ELARA!*-but my fists make no sound, or perhaps the glass swallows it, or perhaps I have no fists at all. Snib turns. "Oi, titcow!" His grin splits his face like a wound tearing open. "Ye can WATCH if ye want! Might learn somethin' about how a REAL hero gets dressed!" Elara's hands pause on his helm. She looks toward the window. Through me. *Past* me. "Who are you talking to, love?"(simple_option:"04 waking","Wake up.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")My eyes snap open.($play:"ambience","desert night ambience") Darkness. The reek of goblin. Straw scratching against bare skin. *Dream. Just a dream. Just a-* My hand reaches sideways to find empty space. (hidden_gem:"The straw beside me is cold. Not warm-from-recent-departure cold, not she-just-went-to-piss cold. *Cold*. As if no one has lain there for hours.","The straw beside me is cold. Cruelly, completely, categorically cold-not the cooling of a companion's recent departure, but the conclusive, condemning coldness of a place long cleared of any creature's comfort.") My heart seizes. I push myself upright, breasts swaying with the motion, and my gaze cuts through the pre-dawn murk toward Snib's fur pile. The shape there is small. Singular. His wet snores rattle the fetid air. *Where is she?* (playwhenread:"jarkrond scream 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:100,0.22),(a:300,0.28),(a:500,0.18),(a:700,0.22),(a:900,0.14),(a:1100,0.08),(a:1300,0))))Something crashes outside. A horse's scream, high and panicked, the sound of an animal in distress. I'm moving before I think.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.10,"peakTo",0.14,"baseFrom",0.02,"baseTo",0.02,"intervalFrom",380,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",12,"sustainMs",8,"releaseMs",20,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.10)) The hide tears aside under my hand and the desert night hits me like a wall of cold silk, and I'm *running*, bare feet slapping packed sand, collar bouncing against my throat, everything exposed to the stars and the wind and whatever waits in the darkness- *Elara. ELARA.* The lean-to looms ahead. Torchlight flickers from within, one of our travel torches, guttering in its makeshift bracket. Jarkrond's massive shape rears against the glow, forelegs pawing air, a sound tearing from his throat that's more fury than fear. And there- *There*- (pic:"ch04/bad end/clover free.jpg","right")Elara stands at the lean-to's entrance, her nightgown pale as bone in the torchlight, her hands raised toward the thrashing stallion. Beyond her, through the gap in the fence she's torn open, a white shape gallops into the darkness. Clover.(simple_option:"04 confrontation","'ELARA!'")($play:"sex loop",0)

($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")She spins. Her face is wet, tears tracking silver down her cheeks, and her eyes go wide as she takes in the sight of me. "Elise-you're-you need to go back inside, you're not-" "What are you *DOING*?" (playwhenread:"jarkrond scream 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:100,0.25),(a:300,0.30),(a:500,0.18),(a:700,0.24),(a:900,0.12),(a:1100,0.06),(a:1300,0))))Jarkrond screams again. His hooves crash down inches from where I stand, and I feel the impact through my bare soles, feel sand spray against my shins and thighs and the soft expanse of my belly. (hidden_gem:"He's *massive* in his rage-sixteen hands of muscle and fury, ears flat, teeth bared.","He's *monumental* in his madness-a mountain of muscle and malice, mane matted, maw bared, a maelstrom of massive, maddened, merciless, man-killing horse.") I grab his lead-rope without thinking. "*EASY!*" The word tears from my throat in Aldric's voice, or as close as this body can manage. I haul on the rope with both hands, throwing my weight backward, and Jarkrond's head jerks down. "*Easy*, damn you!" He fights me. Muscles bunch beneath grey hide. His amber eyes roll, showing white, and that sound keeps coming from his chest, a keening, the grief-sound of a beast denied its mate. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond angry.jpg","left","'She's GONE!'")"She's GONE!" I shout at him. "She's *gone*, you monster!" His head swings toward me. The rage bleeds from his posture like water from a cracked vessel. His nostrils flare once, twice, drinking in something from the air around my naked flesh. He stills. The cold night air bites every inch of me. My breasts heave with exertion, nipples stiff and aching in the chill. The weight of my hips, my ass, my *everything*, bare and undefended beneath the predawn stars. Jarkrond's gaze travels down my body with deliberate, *intelligent* attention.(simple_option:"04 clover gone","Turn to Elara.")

($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")I release the lead-rope. Jarkrond doesn't move. Just stands there, breathing, *watching*. I turn my back on him, every instinct screaming that this is wrong, and cross to where Elara stands at the broken fence. The desert stretches before us, vast and dark, the eastern horizon just beginning to blush with the promise of dawn. Somewhere out there, a white shape grows smaller and smaller against the dunes. (playwhenread:"just one innocent thing")"I couldn't let her stay." Elara's voice is raw. "I couldn't watch her... Ugh. I just couldn't!" I take her hand. Her fingers are ice. "She was mine." A sob breaks through. "Before any of this. Fed her from a bottle when her mother died. And now..." "You saved her." "Just one innocent thing. One creature who didn't choose this, who didn't-" Her voice cracks. "Who still has a chance to run." (hidden_gem:"Sand grits between my toes. Cold, fine, endless-the Shifting Sands that could swallow a woman whole if she walked far enough, if she kept walking until the dunes erased her footprints and the sun erased her.","Sand sifts between my toes-cold, sharp, ceaselessly shifting. The Sands stretch on in silent, starving splendor, a sea that could swallow a soul completely, could consume her step by step until the dunes devoured her prints and the sun scorched away every sign she'd ever stood at all.") "We can run too," I say quietly. "Right now. Just... walk into the dark. Find our way back to-" "The collar." Two words. They fall like stones into still water. "You could walk to the edge of the world and you'd still be *his*," Elara continues. Her voice has steadied somehow, found that iron core. "Still feel it when he calls. Still..." She doesn't need to finish.(simple_option:"04 dawn together","Watch Clover disappear.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/2.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/clover watch together.jpg") The first true light of dawn breaks over the eastern dunes. (hidden_gem:"It paints the sand in rose and amber and something deeper, something that exists only in this liminal hour between darkness and day.","It paints the sand in rose and amber and something rarer-some radiant, rapturous hue that lives and lingers only in this liminal hour, this last luminous lacuna between darkness and dawning day.") The sky above shifts from black to purple to a blue so pale it's almost white, and against it, the last glimpse of Clover's white coat flickers once, twice, and is gone. "She'll find her way back." Elara's voice is barely a whisper. "Horses always know how to find home." "So do we." She turns to look at me. In the dawn light, her face is stripped of everything but the truth. The exhaustion. The fear. The love that burns beneath it all, stubborn and fierce and refusing to die no matter how many indignities this place heaps upon us. Her eyes travel down my body, taking in the nakedness I'd forgotten in my panic, the curves and softnesses that aren't *mine*, the collar that marks me as property. Her expression cracks. Pain, and beneath it, something hungrier. "You're beautiful," she says softly. "Don't." "I mean it." Her hand rises. Touches my cheek.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:400,0.04),(a:800,0.08),(a:1200,0.12),(a:1600,0.16),(a:2000,0.18),(a:2500,0.16),(a:3000,0.18),(a:3500,0.16),(a:4000,0.18),(a:4500,0.16),(a:5000,0.14),(a:5500,0.12),(a:6000,0.10),(a:6500,0.08),(a:7000,0.06),(a:7500,0.04),(a:8000,0.02),(a:8500,0)))) Her palm is warmer now, or perhaps the dawn has warmed us both. "I look at you and I see *you*. Not what the collar wants. Just... Aldric. My Aldric. Wearing borrowed flesh." "Flesh that isn't mine." "Flesh that I love." She steps closer. Her nightgown brushes against my bare skin. "Because you're inside it. Because every morning you wake up and you *choose* to keep fighting. Because you haven't given up." "Neither have you." Something flickers behind her eyes. "We should go inside." She's pulling away now. "Before he wakes. Before he sees... he won't be happy about Clover. But... I'll talk him down." I take her hand before she can retreat completely. "Twenty-seven days," I say. "And then we go home. We *both* go home. Whatever happens between now and then... we face it together. Yes?" Her grip tightens. Behind us, Jarkrond stamps once in the lean-to.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.15),(a:200,0.08),(a:400,0.04),(a:600,0))))(simple_option:"04 snib rage","Later...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/5.png")($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song",0)"WHAT." Snib's whole body has gone rigid, warty fists clenched at his sides, the tendons in his neck standing out like cords. "What," he repeats, softer now, "have ye DONE." "I let her go." Elara's voice doesn't waver. She stands between me and the goblin, shoulders squared, chin lifted. "She didn't deserve-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/snib angry.jpg","right")(hidden_gem:"Snib's screech sends a flock of sand-hawks spiraling from their perch on the dead olive tree.","Snib's shriek-shrill, shocking, sharp as shattered slate-sends a scattering of sand-hawks spiraling skyward from the skeletal olive, startled from their slumber by the sheer scalding spite of it.") He spins, jabbing a stubby finger at Elara, then at me, then at the empty lean-to where only Jarkrond remains. "Ye-ye just-ye SENT HER AWAY? Without askin'? Without so much as a BY-YER-LEAVE to the gobbo what OWNS this whole thrakking OPERATION?" The collar *clamps*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:200,0.38),(a:400,0.48),(a:600,0.52),(a:800,0.50),(a:1000,0.52),(a:1200,0.48),(a:1500,0.42),(a:1800,0.35),(a:2200,0.28),(a:2600,0.20),(a:3000,0.14),(a:3500,0.08),(a:4000,0)))) I drop to my knees, hands flying to my throat. The iron grinds my windpipe. Pressure floods behind my eyes. "Snib-" I gasp. "DON'T ye 'Snib' me, titcow!" He's pacing now, his loincloth swinging with each furious step, his cock already beginning to chub beneath the fabric. "I been GOOD to ye! Both of ye! Let ye sleep TOGETHER, didn't I? Let ye wear CLOTHES when ye earned it! Fed ye from me own stores!" "Your stores are things *we* caught-" Elara starts. "IRRELEVANT!" Snib wheels on her. Spittle flies from his lips. "This is ME territory! ME rules! And ye-" He jabs at her again. "-ye just DANCE in here with yer fancy HERBS and yer ATTITUDE and ye think ye can do whatever ye WANT?"(simple_option:"04 rage escalate","Watch helplessly.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/3.png")"Jarko was HAPPY!" Snib's voice cracks on the word. He clutches at his chest, eyes rolling toward the lean-to where Jarkrond stands watching with unsettling calm. "Finally had a COMPANION! Someone to SHARE things with! And ye just-ye just-" He snarls, wet and cracked, a sob buried in it. "Took her away from him! Like she was NOTHIN'! Like Jarko's FEELINS' don't MATTER!" The collar eases slightly.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:500,0.16),(a:1000,0.10),(a:1500,0.06),(a:2000,0)))) I suck in air, still kneeling in the sand, watching this... *performance*. (hidden_gem:"Because that's what it is. I can see it now-the theatrical gestures, the carefully-timed pauses, the way his yellow eyes keep sliding toward Elara.","Because that's precisely what this is-a performance, practiced and precise. I perceive it plainly now: the preening gestures, the perfectly-placed pauses, the predatory patience with which his pale yellow eyes perpetually prowl toward Elara.") "Maybe-" Snib's voice drops, goes silky-dangerous. "Maybe this ain't WORKIN' OUT. Havin' the missus here. Thought she'd be HELPFUL, but all she does is CAUSE PROBLEMS." Elara's face goes white. "Perhaps I should send her BACK to humie-town. Let her walk. A jaunt through the Sands-bit rough fer a soft city female, but she'd probably SURVIVE. And then it'd just be ME and titcow here. Nice and COZY. Plenty of QUALITY TIME." "No." The word tears from Elara's throat. "No, I'll-I'll fix this. I'll go find Clover, I'll bring her back-" "TOO LATE fer that, missus." Snib examines his claws with elaborate disinterest. "Mare's GONE. Jarko's LONELY. Someone's gotta PAY fer that." His eyes find mine. Then slide to Elara. "Unless..."(simple_option:"04 elara deal","Oh gods...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")"Unless WHAT?" Elara's voice is steady, but I can see her hands trembling at her sides. Snib's grin splits his face. "Well NOW." He waddles closer to her, close enough that she'd have to look down to meet his eyes, close enough that I can see her nostrils flare at his proximity. "Been thinkin', missus. Ye got somethin' I been wantin' to... *examine*." (hidden_gem:"His yellow gaze drops to her chest.","His yellow gaze descends-deliberate, devouring, drinking in the décolletage with a dreadful, drooling directness.") "Not as big as yer WIFEY'S, mind. But they got a certain... CHARM. Nice and NATURAL. Bit of BOUNCE to 'em." He makes a cupping gesture with both hands. "Just a little FEEL. Wouldn't take but a MOMENT." Elara's jaw works. "ELARA-" I try to rise. The collar *wrenches* me back down. "You'll FORGET about Clover," she continues, ignoring me. "No more talk of sending me away. No more *punishments* for something that's already done." Snib's grin widens. His loincloth strains visibly now, the fabric drawing forward, the outline of that massive shaft basically having a cloth draped over it. I watch Elara's eyes flicker down. Watch them widen. Watch them snap back up to his face. "Ye drive a HARD bargain, missus." He cackles at his own joke. "Just a TOUCH. Nice and GENTLE-like."(simple_option:"04 revelation choice","Let it happen.","'STOP!'")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png")(if:$choice is "'STOP!'")["STOP!" The word tears out of me. The collar *convulses*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.50),(a:150,0.30),(a:300,0.42),(a:450,0.22),(a:600,0.35),(a:750,0.16),(a:900,0.25),(a:1100,0.10),(a:1300,0)))), and I feel tears streaming down my cheeks as I kneel there in the sand, helpless and desperate and burning with jealousy I refuse to name. "Don't-don't let him-Elara, you don't have to-" "Oh HO!" Snib spins toward me, his reaching hand falling away from Elara's chest. His eyes gleam with delight. "THERE'S the HERO SPIRIT! Getting all PROTECTIVE, are we?" "Please-" "Gettin' all PURE and OUTRAGED." He waddles toward me, his tented loincloth bobbing with each step. "Like YE ain't done WORSE." (hidden_gem:"The words hit like a bucket of ice water.","The words wallop me-wicked, wintry, a whole bucket of ice-water wrath that washes through my wretched, watching body.") "What?" Elara's voice is strange. Distant. "What does he mean, 'worse'?" Snib's grin shows every broken tooth.](else:)[I kneel there. Silent. Trembling. Watching as Snib's warty hand rises toward my wife's breast. *Let it happen. Let her make her choice. Don't interfere, don't-* "Yer wifey's bein' GENEROUS, hero-cunt. Real UNDERSTANDIN'. A bit like YOU, eh? Not like that night at the INN." The world stops. "What?" Elara's voice is strange. Distant. "What inn?"] Snib cackles. "Oh, she didn't TELL ye?" He looks between us, me on my knees, Elara standing frozen, the collar humming against my throat. "About our SPECIAL TIME in Eboncrest?" "Elise?" Elara's voice cracks. "What is he talking about?" The collar *loosens*. "Go on, titcow." Snib's voice is silk and broken glass. "Tell yer wife what ye did. Or-" His grin widens. "-I can tell her MESELF. Got a REAL good memory fer details, I do."(simple_option:"04 truth choice","Tell her yourself.","Don't.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/2.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/realization.jpg") (if:$choice is "Tell her yourself.")["I had to-" My voice breaks. I can't look at her. Can't see whatever's happening on her face. "He told me to. The collar-I couldn't refuse a direct command, and he-" "WHAT." Elara's voice is barely a whisper. "What did he make you do." "He made me-" I swallow. "He made me touch him. With my hand. Just once. Just-" "She JERKED me off, missus!" Snib crows, unable to contain himself. "Everyone knew it too! Them soft little fingers wrapped around me COCK-" He grabs himself through his loincloth, demonstrating. "-pumpin' away like a good little SLUT!" "That's not-it wasn't-" "Oh, it WAS!" Snib is practically dancing now, his arousal evident, his delight *obscene*. "Ye should've HEARD her, missus! Little gasps and moans every time I THROBBED in her hand! And when I NUTTED-" He makes an explosion gesture. "-she got some on her ARM and ye know what she did?" I close my eyes. "She LICKED it off! Well-wiped it, anyway. But she was THINKIN' about lickin' it. I could TELL." "Is this true?" Elara's voice is so quiet I almost don't hear it. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have told you, I just-I couldn't-"](else:)[My throat closes around the words like the collar itself has seized control of my voice, and all I can do is kneel there, silent, as Snib's grin spreads wider and wider. "See, missus, while YE was back home cryin' into yer PILLOW, yer precious wifey and me was gettin' ACQUAINTED. In the back room of the, uh, the Silvery Stud. Real PRIVATE-like." "Stop." My voice is a rasp. The collar *tightens*. "She got down on her KNEES-" Snib ignores me completely. "-just like she is NOW. And she wrapped them soft little hands around me COCK-" He grabs himself through his loincloth. The fabric strains forward, the outline of his shaft grotesquely visible. "All this GOBBO MEAT, and she stroked it like a whore. Up and down, up and down, them big titties BOUNCIN' with every stroke-" "STOP!" Elara screams. "-and when I CAME, missus? When I finally BLEW?" Snib's eyes roll back in theatrical ecstasy. "So MUCH she couldn't catch it all!" "Is this TRUE?" Elara's voice cuts through his gloating like a blade. All I can do is nod.] Elara's face goes through something I can't watch. (hidden_gem:"Confusion. Denial. Horror. And then-worst of all-*understanding*.","Confusion. Denial. Dismay. Disgust. And then-the most devastating of all, the dagger that deals the deepest wound-dawning, damning, *undeniable* understanding.") (change_stat:"elara",-2)"You touched him." Her voice is hollow. "I had no choice-" "There's ALWAYS a choice!" She's crying now. Tears streaming down her freckled cheeks, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "I came out here to PROTECT you! And you were already-you'd already-" The fury leaves her face. "Did it work?" Her voice drops to almost nothing. "His filth. When you touched him. Did your body..." She doesn't finish it. Six years of marriage finishes sentences for you. "Elara, the musk, it makes your body-" "I didn't ask what it makes you do." Her voice is low and even now. It frightens me worse than the crying did. "I've always believed a woman who loves enough holds. That there's no room left in her for it to take root." She searches my face. "So either I was wrong-" She wraps her arms around herself. "-or you didn't love me enough to hold." "Oh, it gets BETTER, missus!" Snib is *bouncing* now, practically vibrating with glee. He waddles over to where I kneel and grabs my ass with both hands-*SQUEEZES*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:300,0.22),(a:600,0.30),(a:1000,0.28),(a:1400,0.24),(a:1800,0.18),(a:2200,0.12),(a:2600,0.06),(a:3000,0)))) "Should've seen her in the hut before ye showed up! Touchin' HERSELF on the straw pile! Fingers all up in her CUNT, moanin' and gaspin'-" "STOP!" I scream. The collar- *Doesn't tighten.* It feels *pleased*. "-thinkin' about GOBBO COCK while she jilled off! I WATCHED, missus! Watched yer precious HUBBY frig herself silly not TEN FEET from where I was sleepin'!" Elara looks at me. The look in her eyes is worse than anything Snib has ever done.(simple_option:"04 aftermath","'Elara, please-'")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")"Elara, please-" "Don't." She holds up a hand. Her voice is ice. "Just-don't." (hidden_gem:"Snib releases my ass with a final *slap* that echoes in the morning air. He adjusts his loincloth with elaborate casualness, making sure Elara sees-making sure she can't *not* see-the outline of what I touched, what I *held*, what I made *cum*.","Snib surrenders my ass with a final, stinging *slap* that shatters the still morning air. He straightens his sordid loincloth with studied, showmanlike slowness-ensuring Elara *sees*, ensuring she simply *cannot* avoid seeing-the silhouette of what I stroked, what I *squeezed*, what I shamefully, slavishly coaxed to completion.")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:60,0.35),(a:160,0.24),(a:300,0.14),(a:480,0.06),(a:660,0)))) "Well THEN!" He claps his warty hands together. "Glad we got that all SORTED! Clears the AIR, don't it? No more SECRETS between wives!" Elara doesn't respond. She's staring at me like she's never seen me before. "Tell ye what." Snib's voice drops, almost *reasonable*. "Titcow-" He snaps his fingers at me. "-ye can go walk the BOUNDARY-WARDS. Check the marker-stones. Make sure no nasty beasties are encroaching on ME domain. Been seein' Sandwalker-sign recently. Take yer TIME." "I'm not leaving her alone with-" "Ye'll do what I TELL ye." The collar *clamps*. "Or we can have ANOTHER conversation about what happens when females get MOUTHY in Snib's territory." I look at Elara.(simple_option:"04 perimeter","She won't meet your eyes.")

(pic:"ch04/bad end/hunt clothed.jpg","right")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/2.png")The collar snuggles against my throat, satisfied, as if it *enjoys* my misery. *She knows. She knows EVERYTHING now.* My heart pounds against my ribs. (hidden_gem:"Each step feels like wading through tar. The sun beats down on my shoulders, warming the cotton of my blouse, but inside I'm *cold*. Cold and hollow and sick-shame and guilt and fear knotted so tight in my gut I can't tell them apart.","Each step sinks like wading through tar. The sun scalds my shoulders, soaks warmth through cotton, but inside I'm *stricken*-cold and cavernous and sick with some sinister synthesis that isn't solely shame, isn't simply guilt, isn't strictly fear, but all three simultaneously, strangled together like the strands of a suicide's rope.") *I should have told her. Should have told her BEFORE-* Jarkrond stands in the lean-to, watching me with those amber eyes. His nostrils flare as I pass, drinking in my scent, my *despair*, and something in his posture shifts. I keep walking. The perimeter is larger than I realized. Snib's territory extends past the hut, past the well, out to a ring of marker stones half-buried in sand. The collar seems to *tug* when I try to cut the circuit short, forcing me to trace the full boundary as my master commanded. *What is he doing to her right now?* The thought is acid in my veins. I try not to imagine it. When I've walked for a while, the metal at my neck seems to relax. The hut is visible from here. Just visible, a dark shape against the bright sand, smoke still curling from the chimney hole. The hide-flap is closed.(simple_option:"04 watch choice","Circle back. Look through the wall-gaps.","Keep walking.")

(if:$choice is "Circle back. Look through the wall-gaps.")[I shouldn't. I *shouldn't*. I leave the perimeter path and creep toward the back of the hut. There, a gap between the mud-bricks and slats, where the mortar has crumbled away. Just wide enough to see through if I press my eye close. (hidden_gem:"My heart hammers in my throat.","My heart hammers and heaves, a hunted hare hurling itself against the hollow of my throat.") *Don't look. Don't-* I look. The interior is dim, lit only by the cookfire's glow. Elara stands near the central post, her arms crossed over her chest, her jaw set in that fierce way I know so well. Snib circles her like a shark circling wounded prey. "-don't have to be DIFFICULT about it, missus." His voice carries through the wall, muffled but clear. "Just a little FEEL. Ye want to keep yer wifey SAFE, don't ye?" "I agreed to ONE touch." Elara's voice is ice. "You've had THREE." "Them was just WARM-UPS!" Snib cackles. Then his hand rises. I watch-*gods help me, I WATCH*-as his warty green fingers cup my wife's breast through her blouse. Her eyes close. Her jaw tightens. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara grope.jpg","She doesn't pull away.") But she doesn't pull away. "See?" Snib's voice drops to something almost tender. "That ain't so bad, is it? Real SOFT." He *kneads* the flesh through the fabric, his fingers sinking into the modest swell of her. "Not like yer wifey's big floppy UDDERS. These got... ELEGANCE." "You're *scum*." Elara's voice shakes. "But yer still LETTIN' me, ain't ye?" His other hand rises. Now he's cupping *both* breasts, pressing them together through her blouse, his face level with her chest. "Standin' there all PROUD while Snib gets his FEEL." "Because you'll hurt her if I don't." "Never said anything 'bout hurtin' anyone," his thumbs find her nipples. They're stiffening-*gods*-hardening beneath the thin fabric despite her disgust. "When will ye stop PRETENDIN' ye don't like it?" Elara's eyes snap open. "I will NEVER-" "Yer body says DIFFERENT, missus." Snib pinches both nipples simultaneously. Elara gasps, a small sound, involuntary, *horrifying*. "Feel that? Ye've sniffed enough gobbo. It gets in yer HEAD. Makes everything feel... *nice*." He releases her. Elara sags against the post, her breath coming in short gasps, her face flushed with shame. "That was payment," Snib waddles toward his fur pile. "For all the trouble ye caused with the mare. Really upset Jarko-boy." I pull back from the gap. My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking. Between my thighs, something *clenches*- *No. NO.*](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/2.png")I keep walking. (change_stat:"heroism",2)The collar seems almost I *shouldn't*. I leave the perimeter path and creep toward the back of the hut. There, a gap between the mud-bricks and slats, where the mortar has crumbled away. Just wide enough to see through if I press my eye close. (hidden_gem:"My heart hammers in my throat.","My heart hammers and heaves, a hunted hare hurling itself against the hollow of my throat.") *Don't look. Don't-* I look. The interior is dim, lit only by the cookfire's glow. Elara stands near the central post, her arms crossed over her chest, her jaw set in that fierce way I know so well. Snib circles her like a shark circling wounded prey. "-don't have to be DIFFICULT about it, missus." His voice carries through the wall, muffled but clear. "Just a little FEEL. Ye want to keep yer wifey SAFE, don't ye?" "I agreed to ONE touch." Elara's voice is ice. "You've had THREE." "Them was just WARM-UPS!" Snib cackles. Then his hand rises. I watch-*gods help me, I WATCH*-as his warty green fingers cup my wife's breast through her blouse. Her eyes close. Her jaw tightens. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara grope.jpg","She doesn't pull away.") But she doesn't pull away. "See?" Snib's voice drops to something almost tender. "That ain't so bad, is it? Real SOFT." He *kneads* the flesh through the fabric, his fingers sinking into the modest swell of her. "Not like yer wifey's big floppy UDDERS. These got... ELEGANCE." "You're *scum*." Elara's voice shakes. "But yer still LETTIN' me, ain't ye?" His other hand rises. Now he's cupping *both* breasts, pressing them together through her blouse, his face level with her chest. "Standin' there all PROUD while Snib gets his FEEL." "Because you'll hurt her if I don't." "Never said anything 'bout hurtin' anyone," his thumbs find her nipples. They're stiffening-*gods*-hardening beneath the thin fabric despite her disgust. "When will ye stop PRETENDIN' ye don't like it?" Elara's eyes snap open. "I will NEVER-" "Yer body says DIFFERENT, missus." Snib pinches both nipples simultaneously. Elara gasps, a small sound, involuntary, *horrifying*. "Feel that? Ye've sniffed enough gobbo. It gets in yer HEAD. Makes everything feel... *nice*." He releases her. Elara sags against the post, her breath coming in short gasps, her face flushed with shame. "That was payment," Snib waddles toward his fur pile. "For all the trouble ye caused with the mare. Really upset Jarko-boy." I pull back from the gap. My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking. Between my thighs, something *clenches*- *No. NO.*](else:)[I keep walking. (change_stat:"heroism",2)The collar seems almost *disappointed* as I trace the full perimeter, checking each marker stone, scanning the horizon for threats that don't exist. *What is he doing to her?* The thought loops endlessly. I picture his hands on her body. His mouth near her ear, whispering filth. His *cock*, that massive thing, pressing against her through his loincloth while she stands there. I find the snare line. Three of the five traps are empty. One holds a sand-hare, still warm. The last has caught something larger, a thornback lizard, its spines bristling even in death. Good. At least we'll eat well tonight. I reset the empty snares with hands that won't stop trembling. Tie the catches to my belt. Try not to think about what's happening in the hut, what I'm *letting* happen by being out here instead of in there. *She's doing this for you. She's trading pieces of herself so you can survive.* The thought makes me want to vomit. When I finally return, the hide-flap is open. Elara doesn't look up when I enter.] The rest of the day passes in silence. She cooks. I clean. We move around each other like strangers sharing a room at an inn, careful never to touch, never to meet eyes. The things we don't say fill the hut like smoke.(simple_option:"04 evening silence","Evening comes.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/5.png")"Same rules." Snib yawns from his fur pile. "NAKED. Both of ye." We undress without speaking. (if:(get_choice:"04 watch choice","Circle back. Look through the wall-gaps."))[I try not to look at Elara's breasts as she removes her blouse. Try not to see the faint red marks where Snib's fingers pressed too hard. Try not to remember watching-*choosing* to watch-as he touched what was mine. She catches me looking anyway, and she blushes.](else:)[I try not to look at Elara as she removes her blouse. Try not to see if there are marks. Try not to imagine what happened while I was checking snares like a *coward*, like someone who'd rather not know than face the truth. Her expression is stone.] (pic:"ch04/bad end/distance.jpg") The straw crackles as we settle onto the pile. Back to back. (hidden_gem:"The space between us feels like miles. Her heat bleeds through the gap between us. Each breath lands on the back of my neck. But we're not *touching*. For the first time since she arrived, we're sharing this bed without holding each other.","The space between us stretches like a steppe-silent, starving, seemingly infinite. I sense the heat seeping from her skin, catch each soft, slow, sorrowful breath she surrenders-but we're not *touching*. For the first time since she arrived, we share this straw without solace, without the simple, sacred shelter of each other's arms.") (playwhenread:"i understand why you did it")"I understand." Her voice comes out of the darkness, barely audible. "Why you did it. The collar-you had no choice." Relief floods through me. "Elara-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/elara face.png","'But I need time.'") "But I need time." She shifts slightly. The straw rustles. "To... process. Everything. Everything you didn't tell me. I'm... not used to it." "I should have-" "Yes." The word is flat. Final. "You should have." Silence stretches between us. "I still love you," she says quietly. "That hasn't changed. But right now I'm... angry. And hurt. And I need to feel those things before I can feel anything else." Snib's snores fill the darkness. Somewhere outside, Jarkrond stamps in his lean-to. The wind whispers across the sand. I lie awake for hours, staring at the mud-brick wall, feeling the warmth of my wife's back inches from mine and knowing I can't reach for her.(simple_option:"04 day5","The next day...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/1.png")(hidden_gem:"Dawn light crawls through the wall-gaps like fingers searching for something to grip.","dawn light creeps through the cracks like crooked, curious fingers-clawing, clutching, crawling for something to claim in the cold.") I wake to the smell of cooking, grains bubbling in water, the sharp green scent of herbs I recognize. Elara has found some desert berries and combined them with oats and wild honey from her travel supplies. "Morning," I try. "Breakfast is almost ready." She's polite, but it sounds like the voice she uses with strangers. Snib waddles in from outside, scratching his balls with one hand. "MORNIN', ladies!" His yellow eyes sweep over us, Elara at the cookfire, me standing awkwardly by the straw pile. His grin spreads like oil on water. "How'd we SLEEP? Nice and COZY, were we?" Neither of us answers. "Aw, still SORE about last night?" He cackles and throws himself onto the bench by the makeshift table. "Come on, then! Let's eat!" Elara serves him first.(simple_option:"04 breakfast serve","Watch her serve him.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/4.png")(hidden_gem:"She ladles the porridge into a bowl-the largest portion, thick with berries and glistening with honey. Sets it before Snib with the same careful attention she once gave our meals at home.","She ladles the porridge-the largest, most luscious portion, laden with berries and lustrous with honey-and lays it before the little lord of this lair with the same loving, labored attention she once lavished upon our meals at home.") Then she serves herself. A smaller portion. Then, she pushes a bowl toward me. Smallest of all. I sit across from them at the hobbled construct that is our "dining" table. It's narrow. Snib's knees nearly touch mine beneath the planks. "This is GOOD, missus!" He shovels porridge into his mouth with his bare hands, honey dripping down his chin. "Real WIFELY. Ain't it nice, titcow? Havin' a proper COOK around?" I don't answer. My eyes are on Elara's hands, the way they grip her spoon. "Ye know," Snib continues, chewing wetly, "I been thinkin'. About our little ARRANGEMENT. Gave hero-cunt here some DEALS, didn't I? Be a good girl, take gold off the debt. Very REASONABLE." Elara's jaw tightens. "Maybe-" Snib's grin widens. "-maybe the MISSUS would like the same opportunity? Ye want to get OUT of here faster, don'tcha? Get back to yer fancy COTTAGE?" "What kind of deals?" Her voice is carefully neutral. "Oh, THIS and THAT." Snib waves his spoon airily. (hidden_gem:"His yellow gaze drops to her chest.","His yellow gaze descends-deliberate, devouring, drinking in the décolletage with a dreadful, drooling directness.") "Could knock a HUNDRED off right now, if ye wanted. Just gotta sit in me LAP while we finish breakfast." Elara's hands still on her bowl.(simple_option:"04 breakfast choice","'Elara, don't-'","Stay silent.")

(if:$choice is "'Elara, don't-'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")"Elara, don't-" Her head snaps toward me. Those sapphire eyes blaze with something I can't quite name. "Don't WHAT, exactly?" Each word lands like a slap. "Don't make DEALS with him? Don't TOUCH him? Don't do exactly what YOU'VE been doing since before I even GOT here?" "That's different-" She laughs, a harsh sound, nothing like her real laugh. "The only DIFFERENCE is that I'd be *honest* about it!" "And I won't *enjoy* it." Her voice goes flat. "That's the other difference, love. You'll see." Snib cackles with delight. "Ooh, there's the FIRE again! I love it!"](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")I say nothing. What CAN I say? She's right. I did it first. (change_stat:"heroism",-1)Elara studies my silence. Something shifts behind her eyes, disappointment, maybe. Or resignation.] (hidden_gem:"She rises from her seat, and crosses to Snib's side of the table.","She rises-rigid, resolute, radiating a resignation so raw it rends my ribs-and crosses to the creature's side of the table.") And sits. On his lap. Her back is straight. Her jaw is set. She stares at the far wall as Snib's arms wrap around her waist, his stubby fingers settling on her thighs through her breeches. "THERE we go." His chin rests against her shoulder blade. I can imagine what's going on beneath her, that massive shaft pressing up against the curve of her ass. "See, titcow? YER WIFE knows how to be FRIENDLY." My hands clench beneath the table. (change_stat:"gold",100)"See? Easy money! Maybe ye should LEARN from her." Snib's fingers knead Elara's thigh, slow and possessive. "Instead of gettin' all JEALOUS and POUTY." "I'm not-" "I can SMELL it on ye." His yellow eyes fix on mine over Elara's shoulder. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise jealous.jpg") The collar *pulses*. Almost *amused*. Elara reaches for her bowl. Continues eating. As if the goblin beneath her doesn't exist. "The herbs are from home." Her voice is quiet. Directed at me. (hidden_gem:"Our eyes meet across the table.","Our eyes entangle across that wretched expanse-two gazes groping through the gloom for something good, something golden, some ghost of the grace we used to share so effortlessly.") "I thought... you might like the taste."(simple_option:"04 herb response","'Thank you.'","Eat in silence.","'Are you okay?'")

(if:$choice is "'Thank you.'")["Thank you." The words come out rough. Barely audible. Elara's expression softens slightly. The ghost of the smile she used to give me when I'd bring her flowers from the market, or when I'd fall asleep at my desk and she'd drape a blanket over my shoulders. "You're welcome." Snib scowls. "Oi! Less MUSHY, more EATIN'!"](else-if:$choice is "Eat in silence.")[The porridge hurts because it tastes of the memory of mornings in our kitchen before any of this. But the silence stretches between us like a wound, and when I finally look up, Elara has turned away.](else:)["Are you okay?" Elara stiffens. Her spoon pauses halfway to her mouth. "I'm FINE." The words are clipped. Final. "Eat your food." Snib cackles. "Told ye she was LEARNIN'! Ain't got time for yer WORRY, hero-cunt. The missus knows what's what now."] Snib shifts beneath Elara, his hands sliding from her thighs to her hips. "Ye can go do yer TRAP-CHECKIN' and HUNTIN' now, bounce-bags." His voice is thick. "Me and the missus got DOMESTIC matters to discuss. Ye best bring us back some nice food, so ye can get a bigger portion!" Elara doesn't look at me as I rise. "But ye best check on Jarko-boy first... he's takin' it all pretty rough." My wife doesn't look at me as I walk toward the hut entrance. Doesn't look at me at all.(simple_option:"04 jarkrond grief","Check on Jarkrond.")($play:"sex loop",0)

($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.04,"amplitude",0.02,"periodMs",5000,"forever",true))(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/3.png")It's strange. Jarkrond's body language has totally changed. He almost looks... pitiful. Like I feel. (hidden_gem:"His massive head hangs low, grey muzzle nearly touching the packed earth. His eyes, those amber predator's eyes, are dull. Unfocused.","His massive muzzle droops, grey and grim, nearly meeting the mud. His amber eyes-those alert, acquisitive, always-assessing predator's eyes-have gone dim and distant, drained of their dreadful, demanding fire.") The space where Clover stood is empty. He keeps looking at it. I pause at the entrance, suddenly uncertain. This isn't the aggressive stallion who dropped his cock at the sight of me, who tracked my movements with hungry intelligence. This is... something else. He makes a sound. Low. Mournful. It sounds almost like *keening*. *He's grieving.* Ash-runners are intelligent-everyone knows that. But seeing it, *feeling* it in the way the lean-to seems to pulse with his sorrow... *He loved her. Or something.* I move slowly. Carefully. I should still keep my distance. But he doesn't react. Doesn't lift his head. Doesn't even seem to notice I'm here. His amber eyes drift to mine. Tired. The predatory sharpness is still there, buried deep, but it's drowning in despair.(simple_option:"04 jarkrond grief2","We're... the same.")

*We're the same*, I think suddenly. *Both of us watching something we love slip away.* (hidden_gem:"The thought catches me off guard. I sink down onto a hay bale, my legs suddenly weak, and for a long moment we just... exist. Together. Two creatures trapped in circumstances beyond their control.","The thought takes me like a thief. I sink down upon a hay bale, legs suddenly spent, and for a long, lingering moment we simply... share stillness. Two solitary souls, shackled by separate sorrows, suspended in the same suffocating cage of circumstance.") Jarkrond's tail swishes once. Twice. A fly buzzes near his ear and he doesn't flick it away.(simple_option:"04 jarkrond grief3","'I'm sorry.'")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")"I'm sorry." Stupid. He's a *horse*, he can't understand. Right? Or... can he? His head lifts, just slightly. His nostrils flare, drawing in my scent, and something shifts in his expression. I think about Elara, sitting on Snib's lap. Her back straight, her jaw set, her eyes fixed on nothing while his hands roamed her body. The way she didn't look at me. The way she *chose* not to look at me. "She's still in there," I say quietly. "They're still... they just need time. Elara needs time, and she'll be alright." The strange thing is, he *feels* like he's listening. Hearing the isolation beneath them. The fear. "She's been breathing his scent for days now." My voice cracks. "Goblin pheromones. They get into your head, make you... want things. Things you shouldn't." Jarkrond's ear swivels toward me. "I don't know if I can get her back." The admission tears something open in my chest. "I don't know if there will be anything LEFT to get back by the time we're free." He shifts his weight. One massive hoof scrapes the earth, a sound like grinding stone. And then he moves toward me. My heart stutters. But his approach is slow. Deliberate. Ponderous. A mountain deciding to walk. He stops beside the hay bale where I'm perched. His barrel chest is level with my shoulder. The heat radiating off his grey hide is immediate, enveloping, like standing too close to a forge. (hidden_gem:"His velvety nose presses against my shoulder, warm breath washing over my arm through the thin cotton of my blouse. A sound rumbles through his chest-low, almost questioning.","His velvety nose nestles against my narrow shoulder, warm breath washing my arm in waves through the thin cotton. A rumble rises from his ribs-low, lingering, almost a question, almost a lullaby, almost the loneliest sound any living thing has ever loosed.") Is he... comforting me? No. That's ridiculous. He may be more intelligent than the average horse, but not THAT intelligent. (change_stat:"jarkrond",1)I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. His muzzle slides lower. Past my shoulder. Down my arm.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.06),(a:600,0.10),(a:1200,0.14),(a:1800,0.18),(a:2400,0.16),(a:3000,0.14),(a:3600,0.12),"resumeAfter",true))) "Thank you," I whisper. "I can tell you miss Clover." The heat of him is making my head swim. The air thickens with him. *Earthy*. Sun-warmed leather, copper, the green-salt of living things. It coats the back of my throat with each breath. Settles into my brain like smoke. It smells *natural...* like the horses I've been around my whole life. But Aldric never got *lightheaded* from the smell of horses. Never felt his-*her*-thoughts go soft at the edges, like ink bleeding into water. Jarkrond's muzzle is at my hip now. Still moving. Still *searching*. (playwhenread:"easy boy",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:400,0.18),(a:800,0.26),(a:1200,0.32),(a:1600,0.28),(a:2000,0.24),(a:2400,0.20),(a:2800,0.16),(a:3200,0.12))))"Easy, boy." My voice comes out strange. "Easy." His nostrils flare against my thigh. And then he *inhales*. The sound is *obscene*. A deep, wet SNUFF that seems to pull the air from my lungs along with whatever scent he's seeking. His barrel chest expands, his whole massive body *drinking* me in. *He's smelling-* No. *No.* Through the wool of my breeches. He's pressing his velvety muzzle against the junction of my legs and *breathing me in* like I'm the most intoxicating thing he's ever encountered. The heat of his breath soaks through fabric that suddenly feels far too thin. The fog parts around one clear, cold thought: *He has pheromones too.* Different from Snib's. Deeper. Something that bypasses my brain entirely and speaks directly to the animal that lives in my hindbrain: the creature that knows, on some instinctive level, that this is a *dominant male* investigating a *potential mate*. My thighs are shaking.(simple_option:"04 jarkrond response2","Push him away firmly.","Hold still-wait for him to finish.","Speak to him softly. Try to redirect.")

(if:$choice is "Push him away firmly.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")My hands find his muzzle. That velvet-soft expanse of grey flesh pressed between my thighs. I *shove*. "NO!" The word tears out of me, ragged and desperate. I scramble backward on the hay bale, my heels kicking against the packed earth, putting distance between us. Jarkrond's head snaps up. His amber eyes pin mine. The heat in them drops my stomach through the floor. He stamps. Once. The impact shudders through the lean-to's frame, makes dust rain from the rafters. Then he *advances*. The slow, ponderous approach from before is gone. This is purposeful. His massive body blocks the entrance entirely, sixteen hands of muscle and intent cutting off my only exit. I press back against the wall. The rough planks dig into my shoulders. (playwhenread:"easy boy scared")"Easy-" My voice cracks. "Easy, boy, I didn't mean-" His head swings down. His teeth close on my blouse. Gripping, not biting. The fabric stretches, pulls taut, and I feel myself *dragged* forward: off the hay bale, onto my knees in the dirt at his feet. He releases me. Stands over me, his barrel chest blocking out the light. And then, very deliberately, he drops his head and *snorts* directly into my face.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:300,0.48),(a:600,0.44),(a:1000,0.38),(a:1500,0.32),(a:2000,0.26),(a:2800,0.20),(a:3600,0.14),(a:4500,0.08),(a:5500,0)))) The musk hits me like a slap. My vision whites out. My thoughts scatter like frightened birds. I'm dimly aware of my hands catching myself against the ground, of my body swaying... When I can see again, Jarkrond is back at his post by the empty water trough. His tail swishes. His cock, I realize with horror, has dropped partially from its sheath, perhaps eight inches of mottled grey-pink meat, drizzling something clear onto the straw. He looks at me over his shoulder. "I'll..." My voice is barely a whisper. "I'll come back later." I crawl out of the lean-to on hands and knees.](else-if:$choice is "Hold still-wait for him to finish.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")Every muscle in my body begs to move-to run, to do *something*. But the fog in my head is too thick, his musk too heavy, and some animal part of me whispers that *movement means prey* and I am very, very small right now. Jarkrond's muzzle *presses*. Insistent. The velvet of his nose parts my thighs wider, his hot breath soaking through wool until I can feel it on my *skin*. He inhales again. *Deeper*. (hidden_gem:"A sound escapes me. Something that horrifies myself.","A sound slips free-small, shameful, sinfully soft-something that shocks and sickens the shred of self still standing sentinel inside my skull.") His tongue emerges. Thick. Grey-pink. *Wet*. (playwhenread:"horse lick",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:300,0.18),(a:600,0.26),(a:900,0.34),(a:1100,0.30),(a:1300,0.24),(a:1500,0.18),(a:1700,0.12),(a:1900,0))))It drags up the seam of my breeches, from the crease of my thigh to the waistband, leaving a dark streak of saliva on the fabric. The sensation, rough and hot, makes my hips jerk involuntarily. *He's tasting me*, I realize through the fog. *Through my clothes.* Another lick. This one centered directly over-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.20),(a:400,0.32),(a:700,0.40),(a:900,0.36),(a:1100,0.28),(a:1300,0.20),(a:1500,0.12),(a:1700,0)))) *Oh gods.* -over the place where the wool has gone *dark* with something that isn't horse saliva. Jarkrond makes a sound. Low. Satisfied. Finally, he pulls back. His amber eyes meet mine. There's no grief in them anymore. Just *patience*. *He's marked me. Like he marked Clover.* "I have to-" My voice comes out wrecked. "I have to go check the traps." I stand on legs that don't feel like mine. The wet patch on my breeches grows cold in the morning air. Jarkrond watches me leave.(change_stat:"jarkrond",2)](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/1.png")"Easy, boy." (playwhenread:"easy boy lewd") The words come out too soft. But I can't find the strength for anything firmer-not with his musk coating my lungs, not with his heat seeping through my clothes, not with that heavy, sweet fog spreading through my limbs like honey through water. "Easy. I'm not-I'm not going anywhere. Just... just give me some space, okay?" His ear swivels again. "I know you miss her." I reach up, slowly, carefully, and lay my palm against his muzzle. The velvet gives beneath my fingers, warm and alive. "I miss someone too. We're the same. You and me. Both of us... both of us lost." He makes that low sound again. But different now. His nose presses against my palm. Then slides *past* it, following my arm, my shoulder, the curve of my neck. Each inch of contact leaves heat in its wake, like brands pressed against my skin through cotton. "That's it." My voice has gone dreamy. Distant. Like I'm listening to someone else speak. "That's a good boy. We're friends, aren't we? We understand each other." His muzzle reaches my jaw. His breath washes over my face, hot, green, *intoxicating*. "Friends," I repeat. The word feels strange on my tongue. Wrong somehow. Jarkrond's nostrils flare against my cheek. (playwhenread:"horse lick",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:400,0.16),(a:800,0.24),(a:1200,0.30),(a:1500,0.26),(a:1800,0.20),(a:2100,0.14),(a:2400,0.08),(a:2700,0))))And then he *licks* me. His tongue drags up the side of my face, rough and wet, from jaw to temple, leaving a thick trail of horse saliva in its wake. The sensation is so *unexpected* that I don't react at all, just sit there dumbly while he tastes me like I'm something to be *savored*. He pulls back, and studies me with those amber eyes. Licks me again. Other side this time. "Okay," I hear myself say. My voice is very far away. "Okay. That's... that's fine. We're friends." His tongue finds my ear. *Pushes inside*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:200,0.30),(a:400,0.42),(a:600,0.48),(a:800,0.42),(a:1000,0.50),(a:1200,0.44),(a:1400,0.48),(a:1600,0.40),(a:1800,0.34),(a:2000,0.26),(a:2200,0.18),(a:2400,0.10),(a:2600,0)))) The sound I make isn't human. When he finally withdraws, my face is covered in his saliva, my ear is *ringing*, and there's a wet spot on the hay bale beneath me. "Good boy," I whisper before scurrying away. (change_stat:"jarkrond",3)His cock has dropped fully from its sheath. Twenty-three inches of mottled flesh, drizzling clear fluid onto the straw.](simple_option:"04 post jarkrond","Leave quickly!")

($play:"sex loop",0)(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.03,"periodMs",4000,"forever",true))(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/2.png")(hidden_gem:"My thoughts are... scattered. Hard to hold onto. Like trying to grip smoke.","My thoughts are... scattered, shattered, slipping sideways-like snatching at smoke with shaking, slick, still-trembling fingers.")($play:"ambience","desert wind") *What the THRACK just happened?* My hand rises to my face as I watch the sandstorm brewing in the distance. *Nothing happened. He was just... comforting me. Or something.* But my body knows different. My body is still *thrumming* with something I don't want to name. My breeches are- I don't look down. Don't acknowledge it. *Check the traps*, I tell myself. *Hunt. Bring back food. Be useful.* Behind me, I hear Jarkrond stamp. I force my legs to move. Force myself to walk toward the dunes, toward the snare line, toward anything that isn't the creature in that lean-to and the patient *knowing* in his amber eyes. The collar sits warm and heavy against my throat, seeming pleased.(simple_option:"04 night storm","That night...")($play:"song",0)

($play:"ambience","sandstorm")($play:"song","corruption theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png")(hidden_gem:"The sandstorm finally arrives like judgment.","The sandstorm strikes at last-sudden, savage, screaming its sentence across the sky like some wrathful, wind-borne magistrate dispensing doom.") One moment the air is still. The next, the world is *screaming*: wind keening through every gap in Snib's hovel, sand hissing against mud-brick walls like the whispers of a thousand accusers. "Gonna be a ROUGH night, ladies!" Snib cackles from his fur pile. I strip. The cotton blouse falls away. The wool breeches pool at my feet. The night air raises gooseflesh across acres of exposed skin, and I stand there, naked again. The straw crackles as I lower myself onto it. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sleep apart.jpg") I lie on my side, facing the wall. My breasts find their arrangement immediately: the lower one compressed against the rough bedding, the upper one *settling* onto its twin like a pale moon finding its orbit. The weight of them *pulls* at my chest, nipple rasping against nipple with each breath. Elara lies down behind me, but faces away. The storm screams. The fire gutters. Snib's horrid snores begin their rattling rhythm.(simple_option:"04 night choice","Just try to sleep.","'How are you feeling?'","'Did he try anything else today?'","Kneel and pray alone.")

(if:$choice is "Just try to sleep.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")The silence between us *solidifies*. I say nothing. She says nothing. The storm does all the speaking: howling its fury against the walls. My right breast has gone numb where my arm pins it. I shift, feel the wet *peel* of skin separating from skin. Her breathing evens out. Sleeping? Pretending? I don't know. The collar hums against my throat like a cat that's gotten everything it wanted. Somewhere beyond the storm, I imagine Jarkrond in his lean-to, patient as a stone. I'm sure Ash-runners are no strangers to such forces of nature. *Twenty-five days*, I think. I close my eyes. I do not sleep.](else-if:$choice is "'How are you feeling?'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/3.png")"How are you feeling?" The words hang in the dark. Silence. Long enough to hurt. Long enough for the storm to fill the space where her answer should be. Then, very quietly: "I don't know how to answer that." I wait. The wind screams. "I'm standing in two places at once." Her voice arrives from very far away, each syllable carrying weight she refuses to name. "Part of me is still in our cottage. Waiting for you to come home." A pause. The fire crackles. "And part of me is... *here*. In this." Another pause. "Adapting." (hidden_gem:"The word sits between us like a dropped blade. Neither of us reaches for it.","The word sits between us like a bared blade-bright, baleful, begging to be grasped. Neither of us bends to claim it.") "Is it wrong?" she whispers. "Surviving?" I want to turn. Want to take her in my arms. Want to tell her that *adapting* isn't betrayal, that we're both just doing what we must to live through this. My body is a monument to compromises I can't explain, and the nightgown between us is thin as a promise and thick as a wall. "I don't know," I say finally. "I don't know anything anymore." Her hand touches my shoulder.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.02),(a:400,0.06),(a:800,0.10),(a:1200,0.08),(a:1600,0.06),(a:2000,0.04),(a:2400,0.02),(a:2800,0)))) Then she withdraws, and the gulf between us remains.](else-if:$choice is "'Did he try anything else today?'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/5.png")"Did he... while I was out..." I swallow. "Did he try anything else?" Her body *stiffens* against mine. "We just... talked." The word comes too quick. I wait. "We came to an understanding." From across the hut, Snib's snore shifts to something that sounds almost like a *laugh*. She's hiding something. I can *feel* something underneath the words. Something that smells faintly of... him. But what can I say? What RIGHT do I have to demand truth when I held so many secrets of my own? "Try to sleep," I whisper. "You too."](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/2.png")I slip away from the straw pile. My knees find the packed earth beside the cold fire pit. Naked, goosefleshed, breasts hanging heavy toward the ground. The storm SCREAMS against the walls, trying to tear the world apart grain by grain. "Eon remembers." The words are barely a whisper. "Who I was." The collar *hums*. "Flux turns the wheel." My lips form the shapes. "Through what I am." Behind me, Elara's breathing changes. She's awake. Listening. "Through Verge's door..." I try to remember the rest. The prayers I learned as a child, the invocations Aldric spoke before battle. They slip away like water through fingers. The collar *throbs*. *Storak*, something whispers in the dark. *Will spread the seed.* I squeeze my eyes shut. The Ephemerals feel very far away tonight. Perhaps they've always been far away, and I was just too proud to notice. I crawl back to the straw pile. Settle beside Elara's clothed warmth without touching. "You were praying," she says quietly. "Trying to." A pause. "So was I." Her hand finds mine in the darkness. Squeezes once.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:300,0.04),(a:600,0.08),(a:900,0.12),(a:1200,0.10),(a:1500,0.08),(a:1800,0.06),(a:2100,0.04),(a:2400,0.02),(a:2700,0)))) Then lets go.](simple_option:"04 day6","Morning comes...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/2.png")I wake to warmth.($play:"ambience","desert morning")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.05,"amplitude",0.02,"periodMs",4000,"forever",true)) Human warmth. Elara's back against my chest, the soft rise and fall of her breathing, the spill of autumn hair across our shared pillow of folded cloth. My arm is draped over her waist. Sometime in the night, my hand found its way beneath the thin linen of her nightgown, just *resting* against the soft plane of her belly. The intimacy of it aches. This is how we used to sleep. She stirs. "Mmm." Her voice is thick with sleep. "Storm's over?" "Sounds like it." She turns in my arms, carefully, slowly, until we're face to face. Those sapphire eyes blink open, still hazy with dreams. For one perfect moment, she just *looks* at me. At this face that isn't mine. Then she smiles. "Good morning, love."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.04),(a:500,0.08),(a:1000,0.12),(a:1500,0.10),(a:2000,0.08),(a:2500,0.06),(a:3000,0.04),"resumeAfter",true))) My heart cracks. "Good morning." (hidden_gem:"She stretches-a small, catlike motion that makes her nightgown ride up her thighs-and sits up.","She stretches-a slight, sinuous, catlike stirring that sends her nightgown slipping slowly up her sun-starved thighs-and sits, suddenly sharp, already strategizing.") The linen falls from one freckled shoulder, exposing the elegant line of her collarbone, the first hints of her modest breasts beneath. "We should check the well," she says, already planning. "And the food stores. Sand gets into *everything* during storms like that." Her nose wrinkles. "Including places sand has no business being." From across the hut, the fur pile rustles. "MORNIN', cunts!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0)))) Snib rolls upright like something primordial surfacing from swamp-water. His loincloth has given up any pretense of coverage. One ball hangs fully exposed, crusted with something I don't want to identify. His cock, even soft, makes an obscene *slap* against his thigh as he stretches. "That was a GOOD storm!" He scratches his belly with obvious satisfaction. "Nothin' like bein' trapped with two ripe females to make a gobbo feel *alive*." Elara's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. But she doesn't snap at him. The collar has taught her that much, even though she isn't the one wearing it. "I'll start the fire," she says instead, rising from our straw pile with fluid grace. Her bare feet pad across the packed earth. "We'll need hot water to clean the sand from the grain." "THAT'S the missus I like!" Snib waddles toward the cold fire pit, his morning erection beginning its inexorable rise. "Useful. Not like hero-cunt here, what just lies about lookin' pretty." I push myself upright. My breasts shift with the motion, heavy and unwanted, nipples stiffening in the cool morning air. "What do you want me to do?" Snib's yellow eyes find mine. That grin spreads across his face like mold across bread. "Oh, I got PLANS fer ye, titcow. Big plans. But FIRST-" He turns to Elara, who's crouching by the fire pit, arranging kindling. "-I want to have a CHAT with the missus."(simple_option:"04 morning choice","'What kind of chat?'","Stay silent.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(if:$choice is "'What kind of chat?'")[Snib's grin widens. "Ohhh, hero-cunt's WORRIED! Ain't that SWEET!" He waddles closer to Elara, who's still focused on the kindling. "Don't ye fret yer pretty little head. Me and the missus just got some... BUSINESS to discuss." "What business?" "GOLD business." He's standing right beside her now, his head barely reaching her hip. "See, I been THINKIN'. Yer wife's been pullin' her weight around here. Cookin'. Cleanin'. Keepin' things NICE." His warty hand lands on her shoulder. "Seems only FAIR she gets a chance to earn some more coin off that debt of yers. Just like YOU been doin'." Elara's hands pause on the kindling. "What are you suggesting?" "Just a bit of... APPRECIATION." Snib's voice is silk and venom. "Ye let me show me appreciation for all yer hard work, and I'll knock a hundred gold off what ye owe. Simple as THAT." She looks at me. I look at her.](else:)[Snib waddles toward Elara with that horrible, patient slowness of his. She's crouching by the fire pit, her back to both of us, the nightgown clinging to the curve of her spine. "Been meanin' to TALK to ye, missus." His voice is conversational. Almost friendly. "About GOLD." She doesn't turn around. "What about it?" "Ye've been workin' HARD these past days. Keepin' the place nice. Feedin' us proper." His hand lands on her shoulder. "Seems only FAIR ye get a chance to chip away at that debt summore. Like yer wifey's been doin'." Now she turns. Her sapphire eyes find mine across the hut. There's a question there. *What do I do?* I have no answer.] "What did you have in mind?" *No. No no no-* "Nothin' FANCY." His grin splits his face like a wound tearing open. "Just a bit of... APPRECIATION. Hundred gold. Just for lettin' me..." He reaches up. His hand hovers inches from her chest. "...show me GRATITUDE." (hidden_gem:"Time slows.","Time thickens, treacles, turns to tar-each terrible tick of the clock trapped in amber.") (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara time slows.jpg","right")Every detail sears itself into my skull: the pulse jumping in Elara's throat. The way her hands have clenched in her lap. The fire in her sapphire eyes, *banked* but not extinguished. "Every gold piece," she says slowly, "is a gold piece closer to going HOME." Her fingers find the first button of her nightgown. "To rebuilding our *lives* in Eboncrest." The button slips free. "To our *garden*. Our *bed*." Another button. The fabric parts, revealing the freckled hollow between her collarbones. "I'm doing this for *us*, Aldric." She uses my old name. *Deliberately*. Looking directly at me as her fingers find the third button. And I can't move. Can't speak. Can't do anything but *watch* as my wife-my *wife*-slowly unbuttons her nightgown for the creature that owns me.(simple_option:"04 grope reaction","'Elara, don't-'","Force yourself to watch in silence.","Close your eyes. You can't see this.")($play:"song",0)

(pic:"ch04/bad end/elara breasts expose.jpg","right")(if:$choice is "'Elara, don't-'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")The collar *CLAMPS*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.52),(a:200,0.48),(a:400,0.52),(a:600,0.46),(a:800,0.50),(a:1000,0.44),(a:1200,0.40),(a:1500,0.34),(a:1800,0.28),(a:2200,0.20),(a:2600,0.12),(a:3000,0)))) Iron fingers crushing my windpipe. I drop to my hands and knees, gasping, clawing at the metal. Through the grey edges of my vision I see Snib's broken-toothed grin widen. "Ohhh, hero-cunt don't LIKE it?" He turns back to Elara, who's frozen with her hand on the fourth button. "Then let's give her somethin' to REALLY hate." He reaches up and *yanks*. (hidden_gem:"Three buttons go PING-PING-PING across the hut. Elara gasps as her nightgown tears open, the violence of it making her whole body jerk.","Three buttons burst free-PING-PING-PING-bouncing like brass beads across the beaten floor. Elara gasps as her gown gapes, the brutality of the breach making her whole body buck and brace against the violation.") And her breasts spill free. *Gods*. They're perfect. Smaller than the obscene masses strapped to my chest, but *perfect*: pale as cream with a scatter of copper freckles across the upper slopes, rose-pink nipples already stiffening in the cold morning air. The left one has a tiny mole just below the areola that I've kissed a thousand times. Now Snib's hands are on them. He *GRABS* them. Green fingers sink into soft flesh until it *bulges* between his knuckles, claws dimpling skin. Elara's breath catches. Her eyes meet mine across the hut, and something *breaks*. Some wall she'd built between us. "LOOKIT THESE!" Snib cackles, bouncing her tits in his palms like he's weighing produce at market. "Not as big as yer wifey's udders, but these got CLASS! Real LADY tits!" The collar eases enough for me to breathe. Just enough to *watch*. "Every SQUEEZE-" He demonstrates. Elara whimpers. "-is GOLD, missus! Every TWEAK-" His thumb finds her nipple. *Twists*. She cries out. "-is COIN in yer pocket!" "F-fifty gold left," Elara gasps, her voice cracking. "Forty..." She's COUNTING. Making it *transactional* to help her through it. While I lie here on the floor, collar-choked, helpless, *watching my wife's breasts be mauled by a three-foot goblin*. "...thirty..." Snib's grey tongue emerges. Black. Pointed. WET. "Twenty..." He leans in. "Ten..." His tongue *drags* up the underside of her left breast, a long, slow, *claiming* lick that leaves a glistening trail of goblin drool from the swell to the nipple. Suddenly, I'm reminded of Jarkrond, and... "...done!" He steps back. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Elara's breasts are *red* now: angry handprints marking where he gripped, her nipples swollen and glistening with his saliva. She's trembling. But she doesn't cover herself. She just looks at me. "A hundred gold," she whispers. "Closer to freedom." The collar purrs against my throat.](else-if:$choice is "Force yourself to watch in silence.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")*She's making her own choice. Like I made mine.* Elara's fingers find the fourth button. The fifth. The nightgown parts, revealing the valley between her breasts, the gentle swell of flesh on either side. She shrugs the fabric off her shoulders. Her breasts catch the morning light, pale as cream, freckled across the upper slopes, rose-pink nipples already stiffening. The left one has that tiny mole I've kissed a thousand times. They rise and fall with her breathing, which is getting faster despite herself. Snib makes a sound. *Hungry*. "Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about." He steps closer. His head is level with her chest. "Hold still, missus. Gonna give ye the PROPER Snibby treatment." His hands rise. Hover. Then *descend*. He *cups*. Warty palms pressing against the underside of her breasts, lifting them, *weighing* them with almost clinical interest. His thumbs trace slow circles around her areolas, never quite touching the hardening peaks. Elara's breath catches. Her eyes find mine. I force myself to hold her gaze.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",3000,"forever",true)) "So soft," Snib murmurs. His touch is *gentle*. *Thorough*. That's the worst part. His thumbs brush her nipples. Elara *gasps*. (vid:"img/ch04/bad end/elara grope.mp4") "Body knows what it WANTS, don't it?" Snib grins up at her. He begins rolling her nipples between thumb and forefinger. Slowly. *Deliberately*. Watching her face as he works. "Fifty gold," Elara whispers. Her voice is strained. "For the garden fence." She's counting down. ROLL. TWIST. PINCH. His tongue emerges. Laves across her right nipple in one long, wet stroke. "Ten." He pulls back. Her breast *bounces* slightly from the release. "Done." Elara sits there, nightgown pooled around her waist, her breasts red and wet with goblin saliva. Her nipples are *swollen*, angrier than I've ever seen them. She's trembling. But she meets my eyes. "A hundred gold," she says. "For home."](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")I can't watch this. Can't see my wife- The SOUNDS find me anyway. The soft *rustle* of fabric parting. Buttons clicking against each other as they're undone. Elara's sharp intake of breath. And then- SQUELCH.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.05,"amplitude",0.03,"periodMs",3200,"forever",true)) The wet, *meaty* sound of warty palms closing around flesh. I know what that sounds like now. I've felt those hands on my own obscene chest enough times to recognize it. "THRACK yes, missus." Snib's voice is thick with something I don't want to name. "Look at these pretty pink POINTS. Hard as nubbies already. Yer body KNOWS what's good fer it." I hear Elara swallow. SQUEEZE. TWIST. A whimper that Elara immediately swallows. PINCH. Harder this time. I can tell by the sound she makes. Not quite a moan. Not quite a cry. SCHLURP. *He's licking them.* I can HEAR it. The soft *pop* as he sucks a nipple into his mouth and releases it. "Done. DONE," Elara gasps. Silence. Then Snib's cackle, wet and triumphant. "THERE'S a good girl. Every nipple-tweak is a GOLD PIECE, missus! Every LICK is a coin in yer pocket!" I open my eyes. Elara is pulling her nightgown back over her shoulders, fingers trembling on buttons that aren't there anymore. Snib must have torn them off. Her breasts are *red*. Angry handprints and a glistening trail of saliva marking where he touched her, where he TASTED her. She doesn't look at me. "Hundred gold," she whispers to no one. "For us." The collar hums against my throat, *disappointed* that I didn't watch.] (change_stat:"gold",100)Snib adjusts his loincloth. The tent has grown SIGNIFICANTLY. I can see the *shape* of that cock through the fabric now, the way it *pulses* and throbs. "Right THEN!" He waddles toward the door, leaving Elara still sitting there, exposed, trembling. "Storm's cleared. Time for CHORES. Hero-cunt-" He points at me. "-the well's probably CLOGGED after that blow. Go clear it out. Might take ye a WHILE, heh." He looks back at Elara. His grin shows every scraggly tooth. "Me and the missus got more NEGOTIATIONS to discuss." The hide-flap falls closed behind him. (pic:"ch04/bad end/dress after grope.jpg","'Go.'") "Go," Elara says finally as she re-buttons. Her voice is hollow. "Just... go."(simple_option:"04 well task","Head to the well.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/2.png")*She'll be fine*, I tell myself. *Now that Snib's had his fun, it'll just be chores. Cooking. Cleaning.* (hidden_gem:"The well's stone rim is half-buried in sand. I drop to my knees and start digging with bare hands, scooping sand aside in great armfuls, my massive breasts swaying with each motion beneath the cotton blouse.","The well's worn stone rim sits half-swallowed by sand. I sink to my knees and start scooping-shoveling, sweeping, scraping with bare, sorry hands-my massive breasts swinging and swaying with each straining motion beneath their scant cotton shroud, a shameful, ceaseless pendulum of soft flesh.") The work goes faster than expected. The pump mechanism still works. The water runs clear after three cloudy pulls. I should be relieved.(simple_option:"04 approach hut","Hurry back.")($play:"song","ridden music")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(hidden_gem:"The hut squats against its dead olive tree, smoke curling from the chimney-hole. Everything looks normal. Peaceful, even-just a desert dwelling drowsing in the afternoon heat.","The hut hunches against its hollow olive tree, haze curling from the chimney-hole like a habitual liar's half-hearted alibi. Everything looks harmless. Halcyon, even-just a humble hovel drowsing in the heavy heat, hiding its horrors behind a hospitable haze.") Then I hear voices. "-utterly *revolting*, you know that?" Elara's tone carries through the door, sharp with disgust. "You're a disgusting little creature and I cannot BELIEVE I'm even-" Snib steps into view. He's standing on the low wooden crate. His loincloth hangs loose at his side, held in one warty fist like a bull-dancer's cloak. And his cock- *Oh gods.* (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara hj cock.jpg","right","STEAM rises off it in the cool post-storm air.")STEAM rises off it in the cool post-storm air.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",2800,"forever",true)) Actual visible steam, the heat of his arousal made manifest. Twelve inches of grey-green meat mapped with veins thick as quill-stems that PULSE visibly. The head is swollen purple-dark, almost ANGRY, and from the slit- A string of something yellowish-white stretches toward the floor. Precum so thick it OOZES instead of dripping, a continuous strand that keeps getting LONGER without breaking. Three feet. Four. Finally it touches dirt with a soft *plap* and begins pooling. "Five hundred gold, missus." Snib's voice carries through the gap. "Just fer STROKIN'. That's MORE than yer wifey got fer the same job! I must LIKE ye!" Elara's jaw works. Her elegant hands, those herbalist's fingers that have mixed medicines and held mine on our wedding day, rise slowly from her lap. "This is... extortion." "Don't know what that means," He gestures at his cock. The motion makes that precum-string BOUNCE, makes the steam rise thicker. "Go on. It ain't gonna stroke ITSELF." "You're DISGUSTING. This thing is... it's..." "BIG?" Snib supplies helpfully. "THICK? BACKED UP with gobbo-cream that's been STEWING in me balls all sennight?" He grins, those broken yellow teeth catching torchlight. "All true, missus. Now GRAB it before it gets IMPATIENT." Elara reaches out.(simple_option:"04 watch option","Look away.","Watch.","matters")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","ridden music")

($play:"sex loop","handjob")(set:$watching to (get_choice:"04 approach hut","Watch."))(if:$choice is "Watch.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",2800,"forever",true))(hidden_gem:"Her hand trembles. I can see it from here: that fine tremor in fingers that have stitched wounds and pressed healing herbs to fevered skin.","Her hand trembles-a fine, flickering fear running through fingers that have faithfully stitched flesh and pressed fragrant, healing herbs to fevered, failing skin.") She's wearing her ring. The gold band catches firelight as her palm hovers inches from his shaft. "Every gold piece counts," she whispers. Her fingers make contact.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:200,0.08),(a:500,0.14),(a:800,0.10),(a:1100,0.06),(a:1400,0),"resumeAfter",true))) (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara handjob.jpg") "AH-!" The sound escapes her before she can stop it. Her whole arm STIFFENS as she processes what she's touching. "It's... gods, it's HORRID!" "Goblin blood runs WARM, missus. Especially down HERE." Snib's hips thrust slightly forward, pushing more of himself into her grip. "Now GRIP it proper. Don't just POKE at it like yer scared!" Her fingers close around his shaft. Her hand, that elegant herbalist's hand, looks TINY wrapped around his girth. Pale fingers against grey-green meat, delicate bones against throbbing muscle. Her wedding ring CLINKS against a particularly prominent vein. She has to add her OTHER hand. Both of them together, and there's STILL shaft left over. Still inches of cock above her grip, still inches below, still that massive purple head weeping its poison just above her knuckles. "There we GO!" Snib settles his weight. "Look at them pretty white fingers on me POLE! Like snow on a tree trunk, that is!" His foreskin has been pulled back by her grip, and I can see what's underneath: a ring of yellowed buildup under the ridge, smegma crusted thick enough that even in the dim light it's visible. Elara's nose wrinkles. Her face goes slightly GREEN. But she doesn't release him. "Now MOVE 'em." His voice drops to something almost instructional. "Get that RHYTHM goin'." Her hands begin to move. *SCHLICK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.06,"peakTo",0.14,"baseFrom",0.02,"baseTo",0.02,"intervalFrom",800,"intervalTo",550,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",20,"releaseMs",40,"rampBeats",24,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.24,"depthJitter",0.06)) The sound is WET. MEATY. Her palms sliding through the coating of precum that's already slicked his entire shaft, her fingers squelching through the grease of him. *SCHLICK. SCHLICK. SCHLICK.* "That's it!" Snib's head falls back slightly. "Proper MILKIN' motion! See-" He looks directly at the gap in the wall. Directly at ME. "-ye got NATURAL talent, unlike titcow! Bet ye've been THINKIN' about this!" He KNOWS I'm watching. Elara's eyes are fixed on her own hands, on the obscene work they're doing. Her strokes are mechanical at first. Up, down, up, down. But his cock keeps LEAKING, coating her fingers with more and more of that yellowish slick until the sounds change. *GLORP-SCHLICK-GLORP.* "Slower," Snib commands. "Ye got all DAY." "I want this OVER with before she gets back." "And I want to ENJOY it." His hand shoots out, grabs her chin, tilts her face. Forces her to meet his eyes while her hands keep working. "Look at ME while ye do it. Want to see them pretty blues." Elara's jaw clenches again in his grip. But she doesn't look away. Those eyes, the eyes I've loved for so long, stare up at the creature who owns me while her hands stroke his cock. My own hands have found the wall. I'm pressed against the wooden slats, peering through that inch-wide gap, watching my wife service a goblin. And my body- *No. NO.* My nipples have hardened against my blouse. They always do this!(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2400,"forever",true)) Two points of unwanted sensation straining against cotton. My thighs are pressed together so tight my muscles ache. The collar clenches slightly around my neck. "Faster now." Snib's voice has gone thick. His hips are moving, small thrusts that push his cock through her grip. "Feel them BALLS tightenin'? That's the GOOD stuff buildin' up!" His testicles, each one the size of my fist, are DRAWING UP toward his body. The wrinkled sack contracts, the heavy masses CHURNING. "Just..." Elara's voice cracks. Her strokes have sped up without her permission. "Just FINISH already..." "Well, then ye better beg." "What?" "BEG me to cum. Or I hold it. I got stamina, missus." Elara's hands slow. Stop. For a moment, I hope she will refuse. Stand up and walk away and tell him to go fuck himself- But she looks at his cock. At the ANGRY purple head, the THROBBING shaft, the CHURNING balls. At the continuous stream of precum now POOLING on the floor between his feet. "...please." The word is barely a whisper. "Please..." "Please... finish." "Please finish WHAT?" A long pause. Her hands resume their motion. Slower now. Almost reverent. "Please finish... Master Snib."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:400,0.20),(a:800,0.26),(a:1200,0.22),(a:1600,0.18),(a:2000,0.14),(a:2400,0.10),"resumeAfter",true))) His grin splits his face from ear to ear. "THERE it is! HRUK-HRUK-HRUK! But I'd rather ye called me hubby!" "I'm not calling you that." "Suit yerself, missus. But them HANDS better keep movin'. Might take longer." *SCHLICK-GLORP-SCHLICK.* "HRRRNGH-" Snib's grunt is guttural, ANIMAL. "-that's it. Twist at the TOP. Feel that RIDGE?" Elara's grip tightens as she reaches his cockhead. Her thumb brushes against the flared edge where purple meets green. His whole body SHUDDERS. "HNNNK! Right THERE! That's the-HRRGH-that's the SWEET spot!" Her nose screws up again as her motion pulls his foreskin back FULLY. The firelight catches what's underneath: a ring of yellowed-white BUILDUP crusted thick under the ridge. "Oh GODS-" Elara gags audibly, her face going pale. "-that SMELL-" "That's the BREEDING musk, missus!" Snib cackles between pants. "Gets in yer HEAD after a while! HNNGH-Ask yer wifey! She knows ALL about it!" *GLORP-SCHLICK-SQUELCH.* The sounds get WETTER as more precum floods from his slit. It's gone CLOUDY, thickening toward something else. Snib's balls are drawing up tight against his body. Her strokes speed up. Both hands working in tandem, one following the other, creating a continuous tunnel of slick friction. The precum is so thick now it's forming ROPES between her fingers when she adjusts her grip, stretching, refusing to break, finally SNAPPING with wet little *plap* sounds. "Three fifty-" She's counting down the gold pieces like a ledger, making it TRANSACTIONAL while his cock THROBS against her palms. "-three hundred-" "HNNNNGH-FUCK-" His hips are thrusting now, small jerks that push his meat through her grip. "-ye got TALENTED hands, fire-cunt! HRRRK!" I should look away. I SHOULD. But my eyes are fixed on the way her fingers dimple his flesh, the way the veins BULGE under her pressure, the way his cockhead is going from purple to ANGRY RED as he gets closer. And between my own thighs- I'm WET. Soaked through my smallclothes, the cotton plastered to flesh that SHOULDN'T be this responsive. My nipples are so hard they HURT against my blouse. The collar hums against my throat-not tight, just... PLEASED. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise horny.jpg","right")"Two fifty-HNNNGH-" Snib's grunts are getting LOUDER. "-two hundred-HRRRRK-gettin' CLOSE, missus!" "Just-just FINISH already!" "Beg PROPER!" "I already-" "BEG. AGAIN." Her hands slow. His cock FLEXES in her grip, angry and denied. A particularly thick rope of precum BURPS from his slit-*GLORRRRP*-and oozes down over her hands again, coating her wedding ring in cloudy slime. "Please-" Her voice cracks. "-please cum, Master Snib. Please... please let me make you cum." "THERE'S me good girl! HRRRRNGH-!" His balls CLENCH visibly. The shaft SWELLS in her hands. She GASPS as it gets THICKER, stretching her grip wider. The veins BULGE like they're about to burst. I should close my eyes. Instead my hand is already moving-sliding down my belly, past the waistband of my breeches, finding-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","ramp","from",0.14,"to",0.28,"steps",8,"duration",2000,"curve","soft")) I'm pressed against the wall, peering through the gap, watching my wife stroke a goblin's cock while my own hand- *NO!*(minigame:"04 touch choice",8)](else:)[(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.05,"amplitude",0.03,"periodMs",3000,"forever",true))(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")My legs give out before my brain processes the decision. I'm sliding down the exterior wall, the rough mud-brick scraping against my shoulder blades, massive tits DRAGGING down the surface until my ass hits sand and I'm crumpled against the hut like something discarded. My palms clamp over my ears hard enough to hurt- (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise touch.jpg","right")*SCHLICK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.05,"peakTo",0.12,"baseFrom",0.02,"baseTo",0.02,"intervalFrom",850,"intervalTo",580,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",18,"releaseMs",38,"rampBeats",24,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.26,"depthJitter",0.06)) The first wet sound punches through my palms like they're not even there. Meaty. Rhythmic. A sound I KNOW even though I've never heard it from this angle, from OUTSIDE, from the position of someone who should be IN there stopping it- I press my hands HARDER against my ears. It doesn't help. "-GRIP it PROPER-" Snib's voice, muffled but distinct. "-don't just POKE at it like yer SCARED-" A sharp intake of breath. Elara. That's ELARA making that sound, that startled little gasp that I know so well-but it's DIFFERENT now. There's something underneath it. *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK.* Faster now. Finding a rhythm. My nipples snap RIGID, iron-hard, drilling against cotton. Each heave of breath scrapes them raw. I'm breathing too fast. *Clink.* What was that? "There we GO!" Snib's voice filters through my useless hands. "Look at them pretty white fingers on me POLE!" I bite down on my lower lip so hard I taste blood. My thighs are pressing together of their own accord, the muscles in my inner legs tensing, and the pressure is WRONG because it doesn't help, it makes everything WORSE. The seam of my breeches is riding up between my legs, pressing against- *GLORP.* That's not-that can't be- "-NATURAL talent-" The words come through in fragments. "-bet ye've been THINKIN' about-" A wet SNAP. Like something stretching and breaking. Like strings of something thick connecting and disconnecting. My mind supplies images I don't want and my cunt CLENCHES so hard my hips jerk involuntarily. "-LOOK at me while ye-" I'm hyperventilating. Each ragged breath makes my tits rise and fall like bellows, makes the hard points of my nipples drag AGONIZINGLY against the inside of my attire, makes my whole body flush with heat that has nothing to do with the desert afternoon. *GLORP-SCHLICK-GLORP.* "-that's it-" Snib's voice has thickened. "-feel them BALLS-HNNNK-tightenin'-" Something escapes my throat. A tiny whimper I cut off immediately by biting my arm through my blouse. But I felt it: that involuntary response, my body making sounds of its OWN as it listens to- *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK-* Faster. The rhythm is unmistakable now. The wet sounds layer over each other: a continuous slick friction punctuated by guttural grunts and- "-just FINISH already-" Elara's voice. But it's STRANGE. Breathy. "-BEG me-" Silence. Heavy. I realize I'm holding my breath, my whole body frozen, nipples ACHING, cunt THROBBING against the seam of my breeches, and I'm straining to hear- "...please." The word barely reaches me. Whispered. Broken.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:400,0.18),(a:800,0.24),(a:1200,0.20),(a:1600,0.16),(a:2000,0.12),(a:2400,0.08),"resumeAfter",true))) "Please... finish." My hand is moving. I don't tell it to. It's SLIDING down my belly, my fingers trembling, finding the waistband of my breeches-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","ramp","from",0.12,"to",0.26,"steps",8,"duration",2000,"curve","soft")) "Please finish... Master Snib."(minigame:"04 touch choice",8)]

($play:"sex loop",0)(playwhenread:"cum 1")(if:$watching)[(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.22,"peakTo",0.38,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",600,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",50,"sustainMs",65,"releaseMs",85,"rampBeats",18,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.28,"depthJitter",0.10))My fingers slip beneath the wool before I can stop myself. I'm DRENCHED. Absolutely soaked: my smallclothes plastered to flesh that shouldn't BE this responsive, this desperate, this fucking NEEDY. The first brush of my fingertips against swollen folds makes my knees buckle, makes me catch myself against the wall with my free hand while the other- *Oh GODS-* Inside, Snib's grunting has reached a fever pitch. "HRRRNGH-GONNA MARK YE-HNNNNK-GONNA PAINT-!" My fingers circle the nub that now sends lightning up my spine with every touch. I'm biting my lip hard, trying not to make a sound, trying not to let them KNOW-but Snib knows, doesn't he? He KNEW I was watching. He knows I'm out here with my hand down my pants like some common brothel-crawler- "TAKE IT!" The first rope ARCS from his cock. Thick as my finger, heavy with weight, arcing through the torchlit air like a thrown rope of cream. It SPLATS across Elara's blouse with enough force to make a SOUND. *THWAP*. It immediately begins oozing down the fabric. "HRRRRRGH-THRAK-!" He's screaming something nonsensical in Goblish now, his whole body shaking on the crate. His cock FLEXES in her grip and another rope FIRES. This one catches her across the throat, draping over her collar like some obscene necklace. The smell hits me even through the wall. RANCID and THICK. My fingers move FASTER. "GNNNNAAAHH-!" A sound tears from my throat, quiet, muffled against my forearm, but THERE. "MORE-HNNNNK-TAKE MORE-!" (pic:"ch04/bad end/handjob cum.jpg") A rope catches her across the cheek. I cum at the same moment. Faster than I ever have in my life.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.68),(a:300,0.58),(a:600,0.65),(a:900,0.55),(a:1200,0.60),(a:1500,0.50),(a:1800,0.55),(a:2100,0.42),(a:2400,0.45),(a:2700,0.35),(a:3000,0.38),(a:3300,0.28),(a:3600,0.30),(a:3900,0.22),(a:4200,0.24),(a:4500,0.16),(a:4800,0.18),(a:5100,0.10),(a:5400,0.12),(a:5700,0.06),(a:6000,0)))) My whole body CONVULSES: pleasure and shame and HORROR tangling together into something soul crushing. My cunt SPASMS while my fingers keep working that swollen pearl, while I watch rope after ROPE of goblin seed splash across my wife's face, her throat, her chest- "HNNNNNNGH-LAST ONE-HRRRRRRRK-!" (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise squirt.jpg","right")The final rope is the THICKEST. It fires directly at her face and she FLINCHES but not fast enough. It catches her across the lips, across her nose, draping over her features like some horrible mask of cream. I muffle my cry against my forearm. My legs are shaking. My fingers are SLICK when I pull them free. The collar PURRS against my throat. *Good girl*, it seems to say. *Now you understand.* Inside, Elara is wiping cum from her eyes, trying to blink through the mess. Her blouse is RUINED: soaked through in patches, the fabric clinging to her modest breasts beneath. Her hands glisten with his seed and her own stroking-slick. "Five hundred gold off the debt!" Snib announces cheerfully, tucking his softening cock back into his loincloth. "See, easy!" (change_stat:"gold",500)She doesn't know I watched. She doesn't know I came. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise post squirt.jpg") But I know. And I'll carry that knowledge like a stone in my chest for the rest of my days.(change_stat:"heroism",-10) ](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",2000,"forever",true))My hands ball into fists at my sides. *No.* I will NOT give in to this. Will not PLEASURE myself while- But I can't look away either. Can't close my eyes. Can't do anything but WATCH. "HRRRNGH-GONNA NUT-HNNNNK-GONNA FUCKIN' NUT ALL OVER YE-!" Snib's whole body is SHAKING on that crate. His cock SWELLS in Elara's grip, visibly THICKENING, the veins BULGING like they're about to burst. His balls have drawn up so tight they're almost inside him. "Just-HNNNGH-just DO it-!" Elara's voice is desperate, her strokes FRANTIC now. "BEG ME AGAIN!" "Please cum please cum PLEASE-!" "HRRRRRRRRRGH-!" (sperm:"BLLLLORRRRRT!",3,"splurt 3")Thick as my finger. HEAVY with weight. It arcs through the torchlit air like a thrown rope of cream and SPLATS across her blouse with enough force to make a wet *THWAP* sound. The fabric darkens immediately, clinging to the skin beneath. "YELLAH-THRAK-TAKE IT-!" More. More more MORE. Each rope HEAVY and ROPEY, fired from that purple slit like he's PISSING seed. They catch her across the throat-*SPLAT*-her collarbone-*THWAP*-the hollow between her modest breasts-*GLORP*. The heat between my thighs is UNBEARABLE now. I'm clenching my fists so hard my nails draw blood from my palms. My nipples ache against my blouse. Every nerve in this cursed body is SCREAMING for release- And I deny it. (pic:"ch04/bad end/handjob cum.png") "HRRRRRRGH-LAST-HNNNNK-LAST ONE-!" The final rope is different. THICKER. It emerges from his slit slow at first, a GLOB that hangs there, trembling. Then FIRES with a wet *GLORRRRP*, catching her directly across the lips. Elara SPUTTERS. GAGS. The cum is so thick it clings to her mouth like glue, and when she tries to spit it out, it just STRETCHES, forming a bridge between her lips and the floor that refuses to break. (change_stat:"gold",500)"FIVE HUNDRED GOLD!" Snib crows, releasing her hair. "Fair and SQUARE, missus! Same time tomorrow, maybe we negotiate what that MOUTH can do! HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" I stayed. I watched EVERYTHING. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara handjob mess.jpg","right")And even as I resist, even as I ENDURE, some part of me knows the truth: The arousal hasn't faded. It's coiling TIGHTER, waiting for release I won't give it.]](else:)[(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")The word. That word, "Master," in my wife's voice. My hand plunges beneath wool and cotton and finds RUIN. My smallclothes are DRENCHED. Absolutely fucking SATURATED, the thin cotton plastered to swollen flesh like a second skin, and when my fingertips brush against the soaked fabric my whole body JERKS like I’ve touched red-hot iron. I bite my arm HARD to kill the sound that wants to escape. From inside: "THERE it is! HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" The laughing. The GLOATING. I should stop. Should remove my hand and stand up and walk away and- My fingers push the smallclothes aside. The first direct contact, fingertip to slick, swollen fold, makes my legs kick out involuntarily, my heels SCRAPING through sand. I'm so wet my fingers SLIP, skidding through the mess I've made, unable to find purchase on flesh that's gone butter-soft and fever-hot. *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK-* The sounds from inside have resumed. Faster now. Building toward their natural conclusion. And I'm matching the rhythm without meaning to, my fingers finally finding that swollen pearl that right now is EVERYTHING- "HRRRRGH-twist at the TOP-" I'm circling it. Pressing. The pleasure is IMMEDIATE and CRUSHING, spreading out from that bundle of nerves through my belly, my chest, making my nipples strain even HARDER against my breast-band- "-HRRRGH-that's the SWEET spot-" A sound escapes me despite the arm clamped in my teeth. A wet little "nnnngh" that vibrates against my own skin. My hips are GRINDING now, pressing my cunt harder against my working fingers, the seam of my breeches tight across my ass, my massive tits heaving with each ragged breath. "Oh GODS-" Elara's voice, gagging. "-that SMELL-" I can smell it TOO. Filtering through the wall. Concentrated musk and something ROTTED and-gods help me-it's making me WETTER. My fingers slide lower, past the throbbing pearl, to the entrance that used to not exist, that's now practically GAPING open with need- "-breeding musk-gets in yer HEAD-" I push two fingers INSIDE. My own fingers *sink* into my own cunt while I listen to my wife stroke a goblin's cock. The internal walls grip me like they're trying to pull them deeper. I'm so wet that the penetration makes SOUNDS: squelching, slurping, my own shameful noises layering with the ones filtering through the wall. "-three hundred-HNNGH-two fifty-" She's COUNTING. Counting down gold while her hands work his shaft. And I'm fingering myself to the rhythm of the numbers, to the wet percussion of her strokes, to the building grunts of the creature who OWNS me- My thumb finds my clit again and I START. Stroking myself from the inside while my thumb circles the outside, my back arches off the wall, my tits pressing forward against my straining blouse, nipples so hard they feel like they're going to RIP through the fabric- "-GETTIN' CLOSE, missus-" I'm close too. Already. Too fast. The pressure is building at the base of my spine, in my belly, in my WOMB- "-please-please cum-please let me make you cum-" Elara. Begging him to finish. And I'm- "HRRRRRRRGH-!" His roar of release comes through the wall like a physical force. And something inside me CRESTS- My orgasm EXPLODES. A DETONATION. My cunt CLAMPS around my fingers so hard I can't move them, the walls spasming and SQUEEZING, and then I feel it: that PRESSURE- I SQUIRT.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:300,0.60),(a:600,0.68),(a:900,0.56),(a:1200,0.62),(a:1500,0.52),(a:1800,0.58),(a:2100,0.44),(a:2400,0.48),(a:2700,0.36),(a:3000,0.40),(a:3300,0.30),(a:3600,0.32),(a:3900,0.22),(a:4200,0.24),(a:4500,0.16),(a:4800,0.18),(a:5100,0.10),(a:5400,0.12),(a:5700,0.06),(a:6000,0)))) (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise squirt.png") Hot fluid GEYSERS around my trapped fingers, soaking through my smallclothes instantly, spreading across the crotch of my breeches in a dark wet stain that just keeps GROWING. My hips BUCK against my hand, my heels drumming the sand, my arm clamped so tight between my teeth I'm leaving bruises- "-TAKE IT-TAKE MORE-" He's still cumming in there. I can hear the WET IMPACTS-*SPLAT-THWAP-GLORP*-his seed hitting flesh and fabric, painting my wife while I GUSH into my own pants- "HNNNNNNGH-!" The sound tears from my throat, muffled but THERE. My whole body is SHAKING, another wave of orgasm crashing through me as I hear him grunt out his final ropes. More fluid escapes me-not as much as the first gush but enough, enough that my breeches are RUINED, enough that there's a dark puddle forming in the sand beneath me. I finally pull my fingers free with a wet SHLORP. They're COATED. Glistening with my own shame in the afternoon light. I stare at them like they belong to someone else: these dainty, trembling fingers that just frigged me to a squirting orgasm while I listened to- (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise post squirt.jpg") (change_stat:"gold",500)"FIVE HUNDRED GOLD!" Snib's triumphant voice. The words that should mean something about the DEBT, about PROGRESS, but all I can think is: I came. I came listening to my wife jerk off a goblin. I came so hard I SQUIRTED through my clothes. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara handjob mess.jpg","right")The collar hums against my throat. Warm. SATISFIED. My hand is still wet with my own fluids. My breeches are soaked from crotch to mid-thigh. My nipples still ache against my breast-band, and deep inside me, aftershocks are still rolling through: little twitches of the muscles that just betrayed me. "-same time tomorrow-" Snib's voice, already planning the next violation. "-maybe we negotiate what that MOUTH can do-" I need to move. Need to compose myself. Need to- I can't. I slump there, back against the wall, massive tits heaving, ruined breeches cooling against my skin, and I let the shame wash over me in waves. (change_stat:"heroism",-10)I'm supposed to be a hero.](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.16,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",2200,"forever",true))My hand STOPS. Right there. Fingertips just inside the waistband, trembling, my body SCREAMING at me to keep going. But I don't. I WON'T. I yank my hand free like I've touched fire and CLAMP both fists against the ground, driving my knuckles into sand until it hurts. The pain helps. A little. From inside, the sounds are building toward something terrible. "HRRRRRGH-FASTER-HNNNNK-!" I can't see it, but I can HEAR the wet acceleration: *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK*. The rhythm becomes frantic, desperate. His grunts are layering over each other now, animalistic sounds that make my cunt THROB despite my locked-rigid fists. My thighs press together so hard the muscles burn. The seam of my breeches is SAWING against my core with each involuntary shift, creating friction I don't want but can't stop. I'm SOAKED: the spreading wetness seeping through my smallclothes and into the wool of my pants, marking me as- "-GONNA NUT-HNNNNK-GONNA FUCKIN' NUT-" A sound tries to escape my throat. A whimper. I bite it back so hard my teeth meet through my lower lip. My nipples are SCREAMING. Each heave of my chest makes them drag against cotton that feels like sandpaper now, oversensitive peaks that ACHE to be touched, to be pinched, to be- "TAKE IT!" *SPLAT.* The sound of something heavy and wet hitting flesh. I KNOW what it is. Even without seeing, I know. My cunt CLENCHES so hard my hips jerk, and more fluid seeps through already-soaked fabric. "HRRRRRGH-!" *THWAP. GLORP. SPLAT.* More impacts. WET. HEAVY. I'm imagining it despite myself: those ropes I've seen before, thick and yellowed and reeking, painting across- A tiny moan escapes me. Barely a sound. A shudder of breath that carries with it all the arousal I'm refusing to acknowledge. "-MORE-TAKE MORE-" *GLORRRRP.* I'm going to DIE here. Die of frustrated arousal, curled against a wall, listening to my wife get- "-LAST ONE-HRRRRRRRRK-" A final, obscene sound of impact. Then heavy breathing. Panting. And silence. I'm SHAKING. My whole body trembling with denied release, with arousal that has nowhere to go. My cunt is THROBBING with each heartbeat, a persistent ACHE that won't fade. My nipples feel bruised from pressing against fabric. The wetness in my breeches has spread to the backs of my thighs. I didn't cum. But my body is SCREAMING that I should have. NEEDED to. The unfulfilled tension coils in my belly like a spring wound too tight, waiting to explode at the slightest provocation. "FIVE HUNDRED GOLD!" Snib's voice, muffled but triumphant. "Fair and SQUARE!" (change_stat:"gold",500)I should feel something about that. About the debt decreasing. About progress toward freedom. All I feel is EMPTY and FULL at the same time: empty of release, full of shameful need. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara handjob mess.jpg","right")I didn't touch myself. But I wanted to. GODS, I wanted to. And I'll carry that knowledge next to the wetness in my clothes.]](simple_option:"04 hj aftermath","Compose yourself.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/2.png")I force myself upright. My legs are unsteady. My hands are shaking. But I make myself walk around to the front of the hut, make myself push aside the hide-flap, make myself ENTER. (hidden_gem:"The smell hits me first-that concentrated reek of goblin seed, thick enough to taste on my tongue.","The smell strikes first-a concentrated, cloying, gut-curdling reek of goblin seed, so thick and tangible I can taste its taint upon my tongue like some terrible, tarry communion.") (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara post hj.jpg","Elara is at the water bucket, scrubbing her hands.") Elara is at the water bucket, scrubbing her hands. Her blouse is RUINED: dark wet patches spreading across the fabric, clinging to her skin beneath. There's still a streak of something pearly near her hairline that she's missed. She looks up when I enter. (if:(get_choice:"04 touch choice","Fail Check"))[Her eyes drop to my breeches. To the STAIN. The dark wet patch spreading from my crotch down my inner thighs, impossible to miss, impossible to explain away as spilled water or sweat. Her face cycles through confusion, then recognition, then something that looks like she's been STABBED. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" Snib's cackling cuts through the moment like a blade. He's sprawled on his fur pile, loincloth barely covering his softened cock, yellow eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Well WELL! Looks like someone had a GOOD time outside! What's the matter, titcow? Couldn't keep yer HANDS to yerself?" I can't speak. Can't defend myself. Can't do anything but stand there while my wife stares at the evidence of my shame. "Elara-I didn't-I couldn't-" "You WATCHED." Her voice is flat. Dead. "You watched the whole thing." "I-" "And you-" Her eyes drop to the stain again. Her lip curls. "-you LIKED it." "NO! My body just-this FORM reacts to-" She turns back to the bucket. Her shoulders are rigid. Snib's laughter fills the silence between us. "Awww, don't be too HARD on her, missus! Can't blame a slut fer SLUTTIN'! HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" (change_stat:"elara",-2)Elara doesn't respond. Doesn't look at me again. I stand there in my stained breeches, watching my wife scrub goblin cum from her hands, and I feel something new CRACK between us that I don't know how to fix.](else:)[Her expression shifts: relief that I'm back, then shame at being SEEN like this, then something harder. "You're back early." Her voice is too controlled. Too careful. "The well wasn't as bad as he said." "Ah." She turns back to the bucket. Keeps scrubbing. Snib chuckles from his fur pile. "Ye took yer TIME out there, titcow. Whatcha been DOIN'? Havin' a little THINK about things?" He KNOWS. I can see it in his yellow eyes: that gleam of awareness. "Cleaning the well," I say flatly. "Like you ordered." "Mmmm." His grin shows every broken tooth. "Well, while ye were CLEANIN', yer wife was earnin' GOLD. Five hundred off the debt! Ain't she TALENTED?" Elara's scrubbing intensifies. Her knuckles are going white. "I can see that." I cross to her. Put my hand on her shoulder, gently, carefully. She flinches at my touch. Then forces herself to still. "I'm fine." The word is clipped. "I'm fine. It was just... touching. Nothing more." But she won't meet my eyes. And there's still that streak of pearly white near her hairline, drying slowly, marking my wife as someone else's. (change_stat:"elara",-1)She pulls away from my hand. "I need to... I need to change my blouse." She walks past me toward our pile of belongings. Her shoulders are hunched. Her hands are still shaking. Snib watches us both with that satisfied grin. "Same time tomorrow, ladies! HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!"] Twenty-four days remaining. Or was it twenty-five?(simple_option:"04 day6 evening","Evening falls...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/3.png")(hidden_gem:"We settle onto the straw pile. The familiar crackling, the sweet-rot smell of old bedding. We lie facing away from each other-her toward the wall, me toward the dying fire. The space between us might as well be an ocean.","We settle onto the straw-the same sorry crackling, the same sweet-rot stench of spent bedding. We lie sundered, spine to spine-she facing the squalid wall, I the smoldering fire. The sliver of space separating us spans wider than any sea.") Minutes pass. Snib's snores begin. The collar sits warm against my throat, humming its satisfaction at another day of degradation successfully orchestrated. But Elara isn't sleeping. Her breathing is too shallow, too quick. She keeps shifting, straw rustling with each tiny movement.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.04,"amplitude",0.03,"periodMs",2800,"forever",true)) Her nightgown has ridden up slightly and I can see the pale curve of her calf in the dying firelight, the delicate bone of her ankle, and higher... the soft inside of her thigh where it presses against the other, rhythmically clenching and releasing like she's fighting something. "Stop," she whispers suddenly. I freeze. "Stop what?" "Stop... I can FEEL you looking at me." "I'm not-" "You are." Her voice cracks on the second word. "You're always looking at me now. Like you're waiting for something. Like you expect me to... to break." The unfairness of it burns in my throat. "You gave him a-" "I KNOW what I did." She still won't turn around. "I know exactly what I did." Each word comes out sharper than the last, but underneath... gods, underneath there's something else. Something that makes her voice catch and waver. "I thought I'd held," she says, and something in the word is already coming apart. "I don't know what holding even means anymore." "Elara-" She rolls over suddenly, violently, and we're face to face in the dark. Her eyes are wet, catching what little light remains, and her face is flushed even in shadow. "I can't stop thinking about it," she admits in a rush, and her eyes have gone feral(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.05,"periodMs",2200,"forever",true)). Desperate. Unhinged. A stranger wearing my wife's face. "His cock in my hands, that fucking SMELL, the weight of it, the heat-I can still feel it on my palms like it burned my skin, left permanent marks that won't wash off no matter how much I scrub-" The words tumble out faster and faster, building momentum like water breaking through a dam. She's been holding this in all evening, letting it poison her from the inside while she moved mechanically through dinner preparations and washing and all the mundane rituals we use to pretend everything's normal when nothing is normal and nothing will ever be normal again. "-and you WATCHED," she continues, and now there's accusation mixed with something else, something that makes her thighs press together harder as she says it. "You stood there and you watched me stroke his fucking green cock and you didn't stop it, didn't burst in to save me, you just WATCHED like it was some kind of show put on for your entertainment-" (if:(get_choice:"04 watch option","Watch."))["I couldn't-the collar would have-"](else:)["I didn't! The collar, I looked away, I couldn't-"] "I don't CARE about the collar!" She's louder now, loud enough that Snib's snoring stutters for a moment before resuming, and the danger of waking him should make us quieter but instead it adds fuel to whatever's burning between us right now. "I needed you to TRY, needed you to at least WANT to stop it instead of just standing there while I-while I-" Her voice breaks completely and she's sobbing now but it's not the kind of crying that wants comfort, it's angry and frustrated and underneath all that is something else, something that makes her next words come out in a ragged whisper that's somehow more devastating than any scream could be. "I'm so thrakking HORNY I could die and I HATE myself for it."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.12,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",1800,"forever",true)) The admission hangs between us like smoke, visible in the firelight that catches the tears streaming down her freckled cheeks, illuminating the flush that's spread from her face down her neck and disappears beneath the collar of her nightgown, and I can see her pulse hammering in her throat, see the way her chest heaves with each breath, see how her hands are clenched into fists in the straw like she's physically holding herself back from something. (pic:"ch04/bad end/smell.jpg","'His smell got in my system...'") "His smell got in my system," she continues in that same terrible whisper(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.16,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",1600,"forever",true)), and now her hand rises to touch her own throat like she's trying to strangle the words before they escape. "That horrid goblin STINK, and now I'm lying here next to you and all I can think about is that I need to be TOUCHED, need to feel SOMETHING that isn't shame or this horrible fucking feeling that won't GO AWAY-"(simple_option:"04 day6 evening touch","Touch her.")($play:"song",0)($play:"sex loop",0)

($play:"song","night arousal theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/1.png")She's trembling now, her whole body shaking with the force of holding everything in, and when I reach out, one tentative hand landing on her shoulder, she makes a sound that's half sob, half moan(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:500,0.16),(a:1000,0.22),(a:1500,0.26),(a:2000,0.24),(a:2500,0.22),(a:3000,0.26),(a:3500,0.24),(a:4000,0.22),(a:4500,0.20)))). Suddenly we're not separate people lying carefully apart but a tangle of hungry limbs and groping hands and mouths that crash together without grace or any of the tenderness that used to define us. (hidden_gem:"Our cottage mornings-the laughter, the slow hands-might as well have happened to strangers. This is animal. Violent. Need with no love in it, just the raw ache to feel something besides owned.","This bears no resemblance to the tender, treasured mornings of our cottage-those blissful, breathless, butter-soft communions of body and belonging. This is something baser, bleaker, more brutal-born of bottomless need, built from the desperate desire to prove we persist as people, not merely a goblin's possessions, not merely playthings, not merely property to be pawed and parted and put away.") Her nightgown comes off-I don't know who removes it, maybe both of us tearing at the fabric simultaneously-and then her hands are on my body with a hunger I've never felt from her before, fingers sinking into the obscene softness of these tits I hate, kneading and squeezing like she's trying to reshape clay(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.22,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1400,"forever",true)). It should feel good. Instead it feels DESPERATE, like she's trying to prove something to herself about who I am or who she is or what we still mean to each other. "Touch me," she gasps against my mouth, and her breath tastes like tears and bark-tea and underneath that the faint rancid-sweet residue of goblin precum that must have splashed on her lips when he came. "Please, Aldric, Elise, whoever you are now-just fucking TOUCH me like you mean it-"(simple_option:"04 day6 evening tumble","Kiss her.")($play:"sex loop","elara elise sex")

($play:"song","night arousal theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1600,"forever",true))(pic:"ch04/bad end/elara hot kiss.jpg","It's not a kiss so much as a collision.") (hidden_gem:"Her mouth crashes into mine-teeth clicking, tongues sliding wet and sloppy, both of us gasping into each other like we're trying to share the same ragged breath. Maybe we are. Two sets of lungs working in tandem to keep us both from drowning.","Her mouth meets mine and it's not a kiss but a crash-teeth clashing, tongues tangling in desperate, drunken disarray, both of us breathing broken breaths into each other's mouths because perhaps, after all this punishment and privation, our lungs have learned to labor in tandem, sharing the same shattered air just to stay above this sea of shame and starvation and furious, feverish, frustrated NEED that's been building like a dam about to burst.") I roll onto her and my tits-these massive fucking udders I hate, that Snib loves to comment on, that define this body I never asked for-they SLAP down onto her modest chest with a meaty THWUMP that makes us both grunt(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:150,0.20),(a:350,0.24),(a:500,0.16),(a:650,0.20),(a:800,0.14),(a:1000,0.10),"resumeAfter",true))), and for a moment we're pressed together from mouth to hip, my nipples dragging against hers through the sweat already beading between us, and her hands are in my hair, YANKING, pulling my face harder against hers like she wants to crawl inside my skull and hide there. "Fuck-FUCK-" she pants against my lips, and her hips are already grinding up against mine, that desperate rhythm I know so well from years of marriage but different now, more frantic, driven by grief and fury wearing desire's skin. (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara wet.jpg","right")Our thighs slot together like puzzle pieces designed by someone cruel: her smooth leg sliding between mine where I'm already embarrassingly wet(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.24,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",1200,"forever",true)), and HER wetness paints my thigh with slick heat that has nothing to do with me and everything to do with what her hands were wrapped around this morning, and I should be disgusted but instead I grind DOWN, pressing my thigh harder against her soaked cunt while she does the same to mine. "Elara-baby-I've got you-" She SOBS against my neck, her teeth finding the tendon there and BITING hard enough to leave marks, and I don't know if she's trying to hurt me or reclaim me or both but I don't care because her fingers are raking down my back now, leaving trails of fire, and when she reaches the flare of my hips, these wide breeding hips, she GRABS, fingertips sinking into the soft flesh of my ass and PULLING me harder against her. The straw crackles and shifts beneath us as we writhe together, red hair tangling with black. Somewhere in the mess of limbs and desperate grinding I taste salt, her tears or mine or both mixing on our tongues as we kiss like it's the last thing we'll ever do. Who knows. It might be. "M- more," she gasps, breaking away to breathe, and her eyes are WILD in the dying firelight, pupils blown so wide there's almost no blue left. "I need you to-to-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara elise fuck 1.jpg") She can't finish the sentence but she doesn't have to because her hands are already pushing at my shoulders, guiding me DOWN, and I go willingly, kissing along her jaw, her throat, the hollow between her collarbones where her pulse hammers rabbit-fast against my lips. Her tits are PERFECT, pale with those copper freckles scattered across them like stars, nipples the color of wild roses and already so hard they could cut ice, and when I wrap my mouth around the left one she makes a sound that's half scream, half whimper(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.28,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1000,"forever",true)), her back arching off the straw like I've cast a lightning spell. "Yes-YES-oh gods, just like-nnngh-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/elara elise fuck 2.jpg","left","I suck HARD, cheeks hollowing.")I suck HARD, cheeks hollowing, and my tongue flicks rapid-fire across that stiff peak while my hand finds her other breast, squeezing and kneading with none of the gentleness I used to bring to her body, and she's WRITHING beneath me now, her thighs clamping around my hip, her cunt leaving a wet smear across my belly as she grinds mindlessly. The sounds she's making-fuck, the SOUNDS-little broken moans and hitching gasps and my name, both names, "Aldric" and "Elise" tumbling out interchangeably like she can't decide which one she needs right now, like maybe she needs BOTH, the husband she lost and the wife she's been forced to accept- I release her nipple with a wet POP and keep moving down. Kissing her ribs. The soft plane of her belly. The divot of her navel where I pause to swirl my tongue and she BUCKS so hard she almost throws me off, her hands fisting in my hair again, pulling me LOWER with desperate urgency. "Please-please please PLEASE-" The scent hits me before my mouth does: her arousal, thick and musky, but underneath it... underneath... *Him*. Faint but present, that goblin STENCH woven into her most intimate places, and I don't know if it's pheromones that seeped in through her skin or if she touched herself at some point when his musk was still fresh on her hands but it's THERE, and my cursed body responds to it even as my mind recoils, my nipples tightening, my own cunt throbbing and grinding down on nothing. *She needs you. She needs THIS.* I settle between her thighs and for a moment I LOOK: her pussy glistening in the firelight, flushed pink and swollen, her clit a hard pearl peeking from its hood, everything open and exposed and DRIPPING. She's trembling, her whole body vibrating with anticipation, and when my breath ghosts across her wet flesh she almost SCREAMS- "Do it-fucking DO it-I can't-" I flatten my tongue against her and LICK, one long slow stripe from her entrance to her clit(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:400,0.18),(a:800,0.24),(a:1200,0.30),(a:1600,0.34),(a:2000,0.36),(a:2400,0.34),(a:2800,0.36),(a:3200,0.38),(a:3600,0.36)))), gathering the taste of her, and the sound she makes is this keening wail that echoes off the mud-brick walls- "Oi!"(simple_option:"04 snib interrupts","No!")($play:"song","night arousal theme")($play:"sex loop","elara elise interrupted")

($play:"song",0)($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/3.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:100,0.20),(a:400,0.30),(a:700,0.15),(a:1000,0.08),(a:1300,0))))"OI!"OI! What's all that fuckin' RACKET?" Elara goes rigid beneath me, her thighs clamping around my head so hard my ears ring, and her pulse pounds against my tongue, her whole body cresting toward something and now it's FROZEN- "Having a bit of a MIDNIGHT SNACK, are we?" Snib's voice cuts through the darkness, wet with amusement, and I hear the rustle of his fur pile as he sits up. "See, NOW, here's the thing-I don't remember APPROVING no lezzer fun times!" Elara's hands are still in my hair but they've stopped pulling, just resting there trembling while I remain frozen between her thighs, my mouth inches from her cunt, my tongue still tasting her. "Back to yer own side, titcow." The command is casual, almost bored, but the collar PULSES against my throat.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:300,0.35),(a:600,0.32),(a:900,0.25),(a:1200,0.18),(a:1500,0.10),(a:1800,0)))) "Ye want to get the missus off? Ye ASK permission. Ye NEGOTIATE. Otherwise..." His cackle splits the darkness. "Otherwise I might start thinkin' ye don't NEED sleep at all, and I can find OTHER uses fer them mouths!" I pull away slowly, Elara's wetness cooling on my lips and chin, and when I look up at her face in the dying firelight I see something that makes my chest crack open- (hidden_gem:"She's CRYING. The anger has burned out. What's left is worse-hopeless, gutted-her body still trembling with unfulfilled need while she stares at the ceiling and lets silent sobs shake her.","She's CRYING. Not the combative, caustic tears from before, but something crueler-something crushed and cornerless and completely without hope, her body still trembling with thwarted, thundering need while she stares at the ceiling and surrenders to silent, soul-shaking sobs.") "G'night, cunts!" Snib calls cheerfully. "Oh, and missus? Don't ye DARE touch yerself neither. I can SMELL it when humies jill off. If I catch ye..." He lets the threat hang unfinished. I crawl back to my side. Elara stays where she is, naked, wet, unsatisfied, weeping silently at the primitive hut ceiling.(simple_option:"04 day7","The next morning...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(hidden_gem:"The skull of a desert fox grins at us from the doorstep, its empty sockets packed with sand that trickles out like tears of bone-dust in the pre-dawn light.","The skull of a desert fox sits grinning on the doorstep-its sockets stuffed with sand that sifts and seeps like slow, silent tears of bone-dust, a spectral sentinel still smiling its stark, sterile smile in the silver pre-dawn.") Not the first one this season, Snib tells us-the ($lorebook_entry:"Sandwalkers","beasts") have been leaving their calling cards for months now. They want something from Snib, or rather from whoever claims this territory, and their patience is wearing thin enough that each skull arrives closer to the door. This latest one actually *touches* the threshold with its yellowed teeth. "Right then," Snib announces over his morning porridge, speaking through a mouthful of grain and dried meat that makes wet sounds against his broken teeth. "Time fer the hero-cunt to earn her keep proper. Ye're gonna go sort out them bone-fuckers once and fer all." He doesn't even look up from his bowl as he says it, as if sending me to face a Sandwalker war band is no different than ordering me to empty his piss-pot. "Can't have 'em leavin' their garbage on me doorstep. Bad fer the property value, innit?" My stomach drops through the floor. Sandwalkers don't leave skulls unless they mean to collect them, and a tribal band could be anywhere from ten to fifty warriors. "Sn- master," I start, the title tasting like spoiled milk on my tongue, "the Sandwalkers are dangerous even for a hero with full- I don't even have magic anymore." "She would need the use of her magic restored." Elara's voice cuts through my objection. She's watching Snib with an expression I can't quite read, something between calculation and... acceptance? Snib's yellow eyes flick between us, his grin spreading like oil across water. "Oh-ho! The missus wants her wife to have her sparkles back? Tell ye what-" He sets down his bowl with deliberate slowness, then waddles over to where I'm standing. "I'll let the collar give ye back yer magic, hero-cunt. But it's fer FIGHTIN' only, just while yer gone. Try ANY clever shit, and..." His warty hand makes a squeezing motion at his own throat, and I feel the collar pulse in warning. "Thank you, Master Snib," I force out, hating how quickly the gratitude comes now, how my body has learned to respond to his magnanimity. But wait, did I just agree to- He's not done. "And since ye're representin' me territory, ye gotta look the part. No more of them modest humie clothes." His eyes gleam with fresh malice. "Back to the proper outfit. The one that shows what ye really are." The morning air is still cool enough to raise goosebumps across every exposed inch of skin as I strip away the relative dignity of blouse and breeches, my hands trembling as they work the clasps of that horrible armor, if armor it can even be called. Once again, the triangular scales leave the vast majority of my breasts to bounce and sway with every movement, the chains between them jingling like the bells on a fool's cap. "Now ye LOOK like what ye are-a piece of fuckmeat that happens to swing a sword. Them Sandwalkers'll know exactly what kind of tribute ye're offerin' if the fightin' don't work out." Elara makes a sound. When I look at her, she's studying the floor, her freckled cheeks flushed. "You should take Whisperwind," she says quietly, still not meeting my eyes. "And... Jarkrond. You'll need a mount if you're traveling." The mention of the Ash-runner makes my thighs clench involuntarily. "I can walk-" Elara's eyes flick to my spike-heeled boots, then away again. "Don't be stupid. Take the horse." There's something in her tone, something almost like she *wants* me gone, wants the distance between us, and I realize with a sick certainty that she's already thinking about what will happen while I'm away. "I held for six days," she says, not quite to me. "I can hold one more." "Elara," I start, but she's already turning away, already dismissing me with the same casual efficiency she uses to organize herbs. "Be careful," she says to the wall. "The Sandwalkers respect strength, as I'm sure you remember. Show them any weakness and they'll-" She stops, swallows. "Just don't let them see you're afraid." Snib cackles at that, the sound wet and phlegmy. "Oh, they're gonna see PLENTY, missus. A piece like hero-cunt showin' up in that outfit? Them bone-readers are gonna know EXACTLY what kind of diplomacy she's offerin'." He scratches his balls through his loincloth. "Tell ye what, titcow-if ye can't beat 'em in a fight, just spread them thick thighs and let 'em pump ye full of desert-baby. Better than comin' back in pieces, innit?" The collar hums against my throat, not commanding but *reminding* me that this is my reality now. "Move that fat ass," Snib commands, already bored with the conversation. "Want them bone-fuckers dealt with. And hero-cunt?" He grins, showing every broken yellow tooth. "If ye come back with sand-walker cum drippin' down them thunder-thighs, I'm chargin' ye extra fer the cleanup." I strap Whisperwind to my back, the weight familiar even if the blade itself radiates wrongness from what Snib did to it. Behind me, I hear Elara's sharp intake of breath, and Snib's satisfied chuckle. The skull grins wider as I step over it, those empty sockets seeming to track my movement.(simple_option:"04 jarkrond mount","Approach Jarkrond.","Don't.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/3.png")(hidden_gem:"The lean-to looms ahead, and with each step my spike-heeled boots sink slightly into the sand, making me mince and wobble like some court dancer approaching the beast's den rather than a warrior preparing for battle.","The lean-to looms ahead, and with each spike-heeled step I sink and stagger, mincing and meandering like some masquerade dancer daintily descending toward the dragon's den, rather than a warrior striding boldly to battle.") Jarkrond stands in shadow, his massive grey form utterly still except for the occasional twitch of his tail. Sixteen hands of raw muscle. My hands shake as I approach with the travel pack and waterskin. "Easy, boy." (playwhenread:"easy boy lewd",(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",1800,"forever",true)) My voice comes too high, too much like someone trying to convince herself she has any control here. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/mount attempt 1.jpg","right")He turns his head with deliberate slowness, those amber eyes finding mine, and I watch his nostrils flare as he pulls in a long draught of air. Reading the fear-sweat already beading between my breasts, the nervous moisture gathering where the metal thong digs into my pussy lips. His ears snap forward. That low chuff-sound rumbles from his chest. "We're... going on a trip." I pitch my voice the way Aldric used to when commanding warhorses. "Southwest. To the marshes. You're going to carry me there and back, understand?" Jarkrond's response is to lower his massive head and blow hot breath directly across my exposed belly and the underswell of my breasts.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:300,0.12),(a:600,0.20),(a:1000,0.25),(a:1400,0.20),(a:1800,0.12),(a:2200,0.06),(a:2600,0),"resumeAfter",true))) The sensation makes my nipples instantly tighten against the scale triangles, and I hear the tiny *clink-clink* of the chains connecting them as my tits shift. Fuck. There's no way I'll get him to take Clover's saddle. Snib never bothered with one. Ash-runners have backs too broad and temperaments too volatile. I'll have to ride him bareback. "Okay," I mutter, more to myself than to him. "Pack first. Then... mounting." I approach his left side where convention says you should always mount, though some deep instinct warns me that *convention* means fuck-all to a creature like this. My hands are still trembling as I try to secure the pack and waterskin to the leather straps that cross his barrel chest. The straps are clearly designed for this purpose but require me to reach *under* his body, to duck beneath that massive ribcage where his scent is concentrated like a fog. Earthy and *male.* My head swims.(simple_option:"04 mount attempt","Try to mount from the left.","Try to mount from a hay bale.","Ask him to lower himself.")

(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/mount attempt 2.jpg","left")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png")(if:$choice is "Try to mount from the left.")[I position myself at his shoulder like I've done a thousand times before-only this time there's no Snib commanding him to hold still, no crude goblin fingers ready to *boost* me up with an opportunistic grope of my ass. This time it's just me and sixteen hands of temperamental stallion and the knowledge that if he decides to move, I'm dead. My hands find his mane. Coarse grey hair, thick enough to grip. I take a breath, bend my knees, and spring upward- In proper boots I could make this jump easily, but these spike-heeled monstrosities throw my balance off completely. I catch the edge of his back with my belly, my massive tits slamming against his flank with a meaty *SLAP-WOBBLE*, the chains between them jangling like mockery. (hidden_gem:"For one horrible moment I dangle there, legs kicking, ass presented to the empty desert behind me, completely at his mercy.","For one horrible, humiliating moment I hang there-helpless, heaving, legs lashing at nothing, my ample arse aimed at the empty expanse behind me like a flag of absolute, abject surrender to his mercy.") Jarkrond doesn't move. He just... waits. Those amber eyes watching me over his shoulder. I scramble upward, graceless, desperate, feeling every inch of my obscene body working against me: the weight of my breasts pulling me off-balance, the width of my hips making it impossible to swing my leg over smoothly. Finally, *finally*, I manage to pull myself across his back and right myself.](else-if:$choice is "Try to mount from a hay bale.")[There's a bale stacked near the lean-to's entrance. I drag it over, positioning it at Jarkrond's left shoulder. He watches this procedure with what I swear is amusement, his amber eyes tracking every movement of my jiggling body as I wrestle the scratchy bundle into position. "Don't you dare move," I warn him, stepping up onto the bale. He doesn't move. From this angle I'm eye-level with his back, which means I'm also eye-level with the curve of his spine, the powerful muscles shifting beneath grey hide, the raw animal *presence* of him. I grab his mane and swing my leg over, easier from here, thank the gods, and settle onto his broad back. The moment my weight lands, he shifts. Just once. A deliberate rolling motion that makes me grab his mane and squeeze my thighs around his barrel, my exposed crotch pressing hard against his spine. *Oh.* The ridge of his backbone fits *exactly* into the split of my thong, pressing up against my barely-covered pussy with a pressure that sends lightning through my hips.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:400,0.22),(a:800,0.32),(a:1200,0.28),(a:1600,0.32),(a:2000,0.28),(a:2400,0.30),(a:2800,0.28))))](else:)["Down," I command, pointing at the ground. Nothing. "Please," I try, hating how quickly I change tone. "I can't... these boots won't let me jump high enough. I need you to lower yourself so I can mount." Those amber eyes hold mine for a long moment-*assessing.* Then, with the gravity of a king granting a boon to a peasant, he folds his front legs and kneels. His back is suddenly at hip-height. "Thank you," I breathe, and swing my leg over before he can change his mind. The moment I'm settled, he rises. The motion is so smooth, so *controlled*, that I understand instantly: he could have made this easy for me at any point. He *chose* to make me ask.] Without a saddle, every contour of his body presses directly against mine. His spine forms a ridge that runs from his withers down toward his haunches, and I can feel it *perfectly* through the thin metal strip, the bone-line of him fitting into the cleft of my pussy like a key into a lock. My thighs grip his barrel. They *have* to. There's nothing else to hold me in place. The motion makes the inner flesh of my legs press against his short-haired hide, already warm from the morning sun. The width of him forces my hips apart in ways that make the thong dig deeper, that make every slight shift of my weight translate directly into pressure against places I don't want stimulated. I press my heels against his flanks. "Okay," I breathe, gathering the reins. "Southwest. Let's go." Jarkrond begins to walk.(simple_option:"04 ride begins","Press on toward the marshes.")($play:"ambience","desert morning")

($play:"ambience","desert horse")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/2.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/ride.jpg","JINGLE-SLAP-WOBBLE-JINGLE.","right")The first few minutes are almost bearable. Walking pace, steady rhythm. I can almost convince myself this is just transport, just a necessary evil, just- He breaks into a trot.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.24,"peakTo",0.34,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",700,"intervalTo",700,"attackMs",35,"sustainMs",25,"releaseMs",55,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.10,"depthJitter",0.06)) *JINGLE-SLAP-WOBBLE-JINGLE.* I gasp. Each hoofbeat LAUNCHES my chest-the sheer mass of these udders lifting clear of my ribcage for a split-second of obscene weightlessness before slamming back down with enough force to make the scale-triangles SKATE across my stiffening nipples. The chains go taut, go slack, go taut-*chink-chink-chink*-a jester's bells scoring the meaty *WHAP-WHAP* of breast hitting breast on the rebound. And his spine. (hidden_gem:"Each trotting stride drives that ridge UP between my thighs, grinding against my pussy through the metal with a pressure that makes my vision blur.","Each trotting thrust drives that bony ridge ruthlessly between my thighs, grinding and grating against my guarded cleft through thin, traitorous metal with a merciless, mounting, mind-melting pressure that makes my vision blur and my better judgment buckle.") "Slower," I gasp, pulling back on his mane. "SLOWER." He ignores me. If anything, he lengthens his stride.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.38,"baseFrom",0.14,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",650,"intervalTo",650,"attackMs",40,"sustainMs",30,"releaseMs",60,"rampBeats",6,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.10,"depthJitter",0.06)) Now each breast is a PROJECTILE-hurled ceiling-ward past my collarbones, hanging for one gut-dropping instant at the apex, then *crashing* home against my chest with a sound like someone dropping wet saddlebags on flagstone. *WHUMP-jiggle-WHUMP-jiggle.* I can feel the skin HEATING from the repeated collisions, the pale upper slopes going tender and pink the way skin goes pink before it bruises. I clamp my thighs tighter, trying to anchor myself-but tighter thighs means wider HIPS and wider hips means the metal thong sinks DEEPER and his spine-ridge grinds HARDER against the exact strip of flesh I'm trying to protect. Something escapes my mouth that isn't a word. Jarkrond clacks his teeth together-a sharp, bone-on-bone sound of impatience. "You're doing this on PURPOSE," I accuse him through gritted teeth. "You absolute bastard." His ears flick back as if to say: *Yes. And?*(simple_option:"04 oasis","After some riding...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/2.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/oasis.jpg","The oasis shimmers into view like a mirage that decided to be real out of pity.") (hidden_gem:"The oasis shimmers into view like a mirage that decided to be real out of pity-three bent palms casting actual shade, their fronds rustling in hot wind that carries the green smell of standing water across miles of dead sand.","The oasis shimmers into sight like a mirage that mercifully materialized out of sheer pity-three bent palms casting cool, charitable shade, their fronds whispering in the warm wind that wafts the green, glorious, god-given scent of standing water across miles of merciless, murder-dry sand.") Tracks converge here from all directions. Most are the expected prints of desert foxes and sand-hares, but there are others that make my blood run cold: clawed impressions the size of dinner plates, each with a dragging tail-mark between them. Karath-beasts. Sandwalkers have passed through here recently, leaving these dinosaur-like tracks in the packed earth around the spring. (set:$map_position to (a: 2080,3730))(map: "Oasis",(a: 2530, 3130),(a: 2450, 3280),(a: 2340, 3450),(a: 2230, 3570),(a: 2160, 3630)) Not the Sandwalkers themselves. Their mounts. Mounts far more obedient and loyal to their riders than mine. Jarkrond's pace quickens when he scents the water, his trot becoming eager, and the acceleration turns my body into a percussion instrument again: *SLAP-wobble-SLAP-wobble*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.34,"peakTo",0.40,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.14,"intervalFrom",580,"intervalTo",580,"attackMs",42,"sustainMs",32,"releaseMs",55,"rampBeats",4,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.10,"depthJitter",0.06)) as my tits launch themselves into increasingly violent arcs. My ass cheeks have developed their own counter-rhythm, *CLAP-jiggle-CLAP*, a meaty applause that echoes off the rock formations surrounding the oasis. By the time we reach the spring's edge, I'm breathless and flushed. I tell myself it's the jarring ride. He doesn't wait for permission to drink. He lowers his massive head and begins pulling water in great, gulping draughts that make his throat work in rippling waves. I slide off his back, graceless, my thighs trembling from gripping his barrel for two hours(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:150,0.18),(a:350,0.22),(a:550,0.10),(a:750,0.12),(a:950,0.04),(a:1150,0)))), *aching* from where his spine has been grinding against me. The packed earth is blessedly cool through my spike heels. I kneel at the water's edge, upstream from where he's drinking, and cup the clear liquid to my mouth. Sweet. Cold. A miracle in this furnace of a desert. I refill the waterskin, watching the ripples spread across the pool's surface, trying not to notice the pulse between my legs that matches my heartbeat: a deep, liquid THUD-THUD-THUD that his spine-ridge spent two hours hammering into existence.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",850,"forever",true)) "Alright." I stand, capping the waterskin. "Time to go. We've got another four hours before the marshes." Jarkrond lifts his head. Water drips from his muzzle. He doesn't move. "I said-" I clap my hands sharply. "Let's *go*." His ears turn toward me, but his hooves remain planted. Those amber eyes glitter with unmistakable *amusement*. "Jarkrond. Move." Nothing. I circle around to his flank, place both hands against his hindquarters, and *push*. It's like trying to shove a mountain. Sixteen hundred pounds of stubborn Ash-runner, and my 140 pounds of ridiculous curves might as well be a fly landing on stone. "You absolute-" I grit my teeth. "MOVE!" His tail swishes. His massive head turns to regard me over his shoulder.(simple_option:"04 see it","And that's when you see it.")

($play:"song","oasis music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.12,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1500,"forever",true))(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/oasis cock.jpg","left","His cock has dropped.")My breath catches. His cock has dropped. Something begins: a serpent uncoiling from too-long sleep. (hidden_gem:"His sheath is swollen, distended, the flesh around it glistening with a mixture of sweat and something *else*, and from that puffy opening hangs... *god*... at least eight inches of blotchy horse-meat, dangling heavily toward the sand.","His sheath swells, stretched and distended, the surrounding skin slick with a suspicious synthesis of sweat and something *stranger*, and from that puffy portal hangs... *gods*... eight solid, sickening inches of blotchy, blood-dark horse-meat, swaying and sagging heavily toward the sand like a serpent too sated to strike.") As I watch, unable to look away, my mouth gone suddenly dry, the exposed portion *flexes*. Lengthens. Another two inches slide free with a wet sound, and now his cock-head is clearly visible, that blunt, flared tip drizzling something clear and viscous onto the desert floor. A trail of it darkens the sand between his hind legs. *Oh.* The realization hits me like a bucket of cold water that somehow makes me feel *hotter*: Clover is gone. The mare he was bred to cover, the female he'd been working himself into a frenzy over, is galloping free, and Jarkrond has been left *denied*. Stallions in rut don't just... *stop*. Their bodies keep producing, keep building pressure, keep *demanding* release that isn't coming. *Especially* ash-runners. He's been carrying me for hours. My scent all over his back. My thighs gripping his barrel. My cunt pressed against his spine. And now he's standing in an oasis, cock out, refusing to budge. "No." I shake my head. "Absolutely not." Jarkrond's response is to take a step toward me. I take a step back. He follows. Another step, then another, his massive body turning to track my retreat. I'm suddenly, horribly aware that I'm being *herded*. My back hits the rough bark of a palm tree. I've run out of space. He's positioned himself between me and any route of escape, his bulk blocking out the sun. His head lowers. Nostrils flare. He's breathing me in again, that deep investigative *snuff* that pulls the scent of my fear and my-my *perspiration*-into his lungs. Between his hind legs, his cock drops another inch. The flared head now fully free, drizzling that clear precum onto the sand in a continuous strand. The smell reaches me a moment later: *earthy* and *male* and *thick*, nothing like human, nothing like goblin, something wholly *animal* that lights my hindbrain like a struck match.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.16),(a:500,0.28),(a:1000,0.38),(a:1500,0.34),(a:2000,0.28),(a:2500,0.22),(a:3000,0.16),(a:3500,0.10),(a:4000,0.06),"resumeAfter",true)))(simple_option:"04 reason with jarkrond","Reason with him.","Get angry.","Get physical.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(if:$choice is "Reason with him.")[(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/ugh fine.jpg","right","'Okay. Okay.'")"Okay. Okay." I hold up both hands, palms out, trying to project *calm authority* even as my pulse hammers in my throat. "Listen to me, Jarkrond. I understand you're... *frustrated*. But we have a job to do." His response is to shove his muzzle directly into my cleavage. The wet heat of his nostrils blasts across the upper swell of both breasts as he *SNUFFS*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.15),(a:200,0.30),(a:400,0.42),(a:600,0.38),(a:800,0.42),(a:1000,0.36),(a:1200,0.30),(a:1500,0.22),(a:1800,0.14),(a:2100,0),"resumeAfter",true))), pulling my scent deep into his lungs, and I feel the vibration of his breath all the way down to my nipples. They harden instantly, and the scale-triangles shift to accommodate the sudden stiffness. "That is NOT-" I shove at his head. Might as well be shoving a boulder. "-APPROPRIATE!" He lifts his head just enough to meet my eyes. Those amber depths are *calculating*. Then he swings his hindquarters around, presenting me with the full view of what's happening between his back legs. His cock has dropped further. At least fourteen inches now, that horrid shaft hanging heavy and *swaying* with each breath he takes. The flared head is fully exposed, glistening wet, and as I watch-*frozen*, my mouth hanging open like an idiot-another thick rope of clear fluid drools from his cumslit and *splats* onto the sand. The smell hits me a second later: concentrated horse musk, thick enough to taste on the back of my tongue. "You want me to-" I can't even finish the sentence. Jarkrond stamps his hoof. Once. Twice. *Confirmation*. "I am NOT touching your-your-" I gesture wildly at the obscene display. "-your *equipment*! I'm a HERO, not a-a-stable hand!"](else-if:$choice is "Get angry.")[(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/angry.jpg","right","'You think you can just-what? Hold me HOSTAGE in the middle of the desert because you're too BACKED UP to function like a civilized h-'")My voice comes out shaking with fury. "You think you can just-what? Hold me HOSTAGE in the middle of the desert because you're too BACKED UP to function like a civilized h-" Jarkrond swings his head around and *bites* my left tit. A warning clamp: teeth dimpling skin without breaking it, enough to make my whole breast *bounce* in his grip before he releases it, leaving a wet patch of horse drool on the scale-triangle and a perfect indent across my upper curve. "DID YOU JUST-" He does it again. The other tit this time. *CHOMP-release*, and now I've got matching bite marks on both breasts, both nipples standing at full attention from the stimulation I absolutely did NOT want. "You FERAL-you DISGUSTING-" I'm sputtering now, incoherent with rage and something else I refuse to name. "I'll have you GELDED! I'll find a smith and have them REMOVE that offensive-" He presents his cock to me again. Even longer now. Sixteen inches? Eighteen? It's starting to *curve*, developing the telltale arc of a stallion approaching full erection, and the precum is flowing freely. "-that offensive THING!" His ears flick forward. He doesn't look threatened.](else:)[(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/angry.jpg","right")I plant both hands against his chest and SHOVE with everything I have. My spike heels dig into the sand. My thighs strain. My ridiculous tits compress against his barrel chest, squeezed into even more obscene cleavage by the pressure, and I push and push and PUSH- He doesn't move an inch. Instead, he takes a step FORWARD. I'm stumbling backward, trying to keep my balance in these fucking heel-boots, my arms windmilling, my breasts flying in opposite directions- His muzzle catches me. Right in the belly. Steadies me. Then, very deliberately, he drags his nose DOWN. Past my navel. Past the thin strip of metal thong. Until he's breathing HOT and WET directly against my pussy(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:400,0.20),(a:800,0.30),(a:1200,0.40),(a:1500,0.48),(a:1700,0.44),(a:1900,0.48),(a:2100,0.44),(a:2300,0.40),(a:2600,0.32),(a:2900,0.22),(a:3200,0.12),(a:3500,0),"resumeAfter",true))). Only a half-inch of scaled metal between his nostrils and my cunt, already damp with my own-with SWEAT. "WHAT ARE YOU-" He *SNUFFS* again, and I feel the suction of his inhale through the metal, feel it shift and pull against my most sensitive flesh, and I hear myself make a sound that is NOT dignified and NOT heroic. "Get your FACE out of my-" He steps back, leaving me wobbling, and presents his equipment as if to say: *You know what I want.*] My thighs are pressed together. Have been pressed together since he breathed on my-since he got too close. I'm pretending it's for balance. "Fine," I say, my voice coming out hoarse. "You want to play this game? I'll walk. I'll leave you here to rot in the sun with your-your-" I gesture at his dripping equipment. "-your *problem*. See if I care." I take one step away from the palm tree. The collar *squeezes*. Not hard. A reminder. *You're not going to leave your Master's horse behind.* "Oh, THRACK YOU," I hiss-not at the collar, not at Jarkrond, at the universe in general. "THRACK this entire situation! My wife is back there with that green PIECE OF SH- probably-probably-" My voice cracks. "-and I'm out here negotiating with a HORSE about whether I'm going to JERK HIM OFF?" Jarkrond nickers. "You think this is FUNNY?" His cock *bobs* with the motion of his chest, slinging a rope of precum across the sand. "I was a HERO! I killed DRAGONS! I saved KINGDOMS!" I'm shouting now, all the rage and humiliation of the past weeks boiling up from somewhere deep in my chest. "I had a COCK of my own once! A good one! And now I'm-I'm-" I gesture at my ridiculous body. "-I'm THIS! And YOU-" I jab a finger at Jarkrond. "-YOU aren't making things ANY-" I'm so angry I can't form words anymore. I STOMP toward him, my spike heels driving into the sand, my breasts *SLAP-wobbling* with each furious stride. "You want to know what I think of your DEMANDS? HUH? You want to KNOW?"(simple_option:"04 kick","Kick him.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/fall.jpg") The heel catches on a root. I go DOWN. *WHUMP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:100,0.22),(a:250,0.28),(a:400,0.14),(a:550,0.18),(a:700,0.08),(a:850,0)))) (hidden_gem:"Sand in my face. Sand in my cleavage. Sand *everywhere*.","Sand in my face. Sand in my cleavage. Sand scratching, scouring, sifting into every sorry crevice of this sorry, sprawling, supine body-sand absolutely *everywhere*.") Before I can even BREATHE, Jarkrond has moved. He's standing OVER me now, all four legs bracketing my prone body, his barrel chest a grey ceiling(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",1400,"forever",true)) above my heaving tits, his dangling cock swinging heavy above my belly: a foot of mottled horse-meat swaying over my navel, close enough that I can feel the HEAT radiating off it onto my bare skin. A thick drop of precum detaches from his cumslit and lands on my sternum. It sits there for a heartbeat: warm, gelatinous, *alive*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.32),(a:300,0.36),(a:700,0.38),(a:1200,0.34),(a:1700,0.28),(a:2200,0.22),(a:2700,0.16),(a:3200,0.10),"resumeAfter",true))). Then it begins its slow crawl northward between my breasts, following the channel of my cleavage toward my throat. That *smell.* Concentrated stallion rut, so thick it coats my sinuses like oil. His great neck curves back between his forelegs, an impossible-looking bend that brings his massive skull DOWN past the arch of his own chest until his muzzle hovers six inches above my face. Those amber eyes find mine from behind the curtain of his own dangling cock, peering at me through the gap between shaft and belly. He *chuffs.* The blast of grassy heat hits my face at the same moment his cock *flexes* overhead, flinging a fresh rope of that clear stud-spit. It arcs. Lands on my collarbone. *Runs.* Down the slope of my throat. Along my jaw. Pooling warm and sticky at the corner of my mouth. *Well?* His cock drips again. This one lands on my lips.(simple_option:"04 final choice","Give in.","No!","matters")($play:"sex loop",0)

(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/ugh.jpg") (if:$choice is "No!")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")The word tears from my throat: "NO!" But the world doesn't listen. Time has gone strange. Thick. Every second stretched like taffy as I lie here in the sand with sixteen hundred pounds of stallion standing over me, his legs forming a cage of grey muscle, his belly a ceiling of short-haired hide that rises and falls with each breath he takes. His cock hangs above my chest, swaying between his forelegs like the clapper of some obscene bell. I crane my neck to look UP at it. I have to. The thing demands it. From this angle, foreshortened by proximity, it looks even MORE monstrous. I can't look away. The shaft is *mottled*: patches of grey-pink flesh mapped with darker spots, the whole length of it glistening with some mixture of sweat and sheath-grease and that constant, *dripping* precum that just keeps *coming*. It's not fully hard yet, not the rigid pole I saw in the lean-to. This is something worse. Something *heavy*. It sways with his breathing, each inhale making it swing left, each exhale bringing it right, and the motion makes it *slap* wetly against its own underside with a meaty *THWAP* that seems to echo in the oasis silence. *THWAP.* *THWAP.* A strand of fluid detaches from his flared head, swings once in the still air, and lands on the upper slope of my left breast. Warm. *Thick.* It OOZES instead of running, creeping toward my nipple with the slow deliberation of honey poured from a height, finding the path of least resistance down the curve of flesh. "Get OFF me," I hiss, but my voice has gone thready and strange. The smell. Pinned beneath him, the musk is a ROOM I've been locked inside. His sheath hangs inches above my ribs, that puffy, sweating pouch radiating heat like a bread-oven's mouth, and every breath I take pulls more of his concentrated rut-stink into lungs that have stopped trying to reject it. Sweat and brass and that gluey, *fermented* stallion reek that settles behind the eyes and does things to the architecture of thought. I try to squirm sideways. His cock tracks the movement, swinging with its own pendular momentum, and now a fresh drip detaches. This one falls higher, catching my collarbone, and I feel it begin the slow crawl up the side of my neck toward my jaw. "I SAID-" His balls shift. They hang at eye-level. I'm flat on my back and they're RIGHT THERE, two fist-sized lumps in their wrinkled grey sack, close enough that I can see the skin *contracting* around them in slow, rhythmic pulses. Drawing up toward his body. Relaxing. Drawing up again. Like a heart beating in a scrotum. Like something is being *manufactured* in real time, the machinery of his fertility grinding away inches from my face. His cock flexes overhead and a thick strand of that clear-yellow fluid disconnects from the cumslit. I watch it FALL in slow motion, watch it pass his hanging balls, watch it descend the last six inches toward my upturned face- *SPLAT.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.38),(a:300,0.42),(a:700,0.46),(a:1200,0.42),(a:1700,0.36),(a:2200,0.28),(a:2700,0.20),(a:3200,0.12),(a:3800,0),"resumeAfter",true))) It hits the bridge of my nose. Warm as bathwater. Viscous as sap. It splits into two streams that crawl in opposite directions: one toward my forehead, one toward my lips. I clamp my mouth shut. The fluid pools against the seam. I can taste it WITHOUT opening: the salt-sweet-MUSK flavor soaking through skin, finding the microscopic gaps between my pressed lips, worming its way onto my tongue. His cock twitches. The whole shaft *flexes*, going rigid for a moment, and I watch another three inches slide free from his sheath with a wet *schlorp*. Longer now. Thicker. That flared head is definitely *flaring*, the edges spreading wider, the cumslit gaping open like a hungry mouth. A thick rope of precum. A *rope*. It doesn't fall. It HANGS there, dangling, stretching lower and lower like some obscene stalactite of horse-slime, swaying with each movement of his massive body. Lower. Lower.(minigame:"04 resist horse", 15)](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")(change_stat:"heroism",-5)The word scrapes out of me like gravel through a sieve. "Fine. FINE. You win. You HORRID, DISGUSTING-" Another rope of his stud-slop lands on my chin and my whole sentence dies in my throat. The SMELL. Gods and Ephemerals, the *smell*. This close, nose practically wedged against the sweaty underside of that dangling horse-hose, I'm breathing nothing BUT him. Hot brass and fermented grass. My head is *swimming*. "I'll-" I have to swallow before I can continue, and the motion makes some of his precum slide past my lips. Salt and slime and MUSK, thick as porridge. "I'll *help* you. Once. Just to get us MOVING." Jarkrond's response is to shift his weight, and his cock SWINGS- *THWAP-SLAP-wobble*-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:100,0.35),(a:250,0.45),(a:400,0.28),(a:600,0.20),(a:800,0.12),(a:1000,0)))) -right across my face. The whole length of it. Eighteen? Twenty inches? I can't tell anymore because it's DRAGGING across my features, leaving a smear of that gluey horse-grease from my forehead to my chin, the sheer WEIGHT of it pressing my head sideways into the sand. Hot. So *fucking* hot it feels like he's burning me. His shaft is covered in this FILM: tacky as the skin on warm milk. Sheath-butter, my mind supplies helpfully. Smegma. Cock-cheese. All the filthy words for what happens when a stallion goes too long without- He drags back the other way. *SCHLORP-SLAP*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.52),(a:120,0.38),(a:280,0.42),(a:450,0.26),(a:650,0.18),(a:850,0.10),(a:1050,0)))) I can barely SEE through the coating of horse-gunk, everything gone blurry and golden-grey, but I can FEEL every ridge and vein of that monstrous thing as it paints my face like I'm a canvas for stallion-slime. "You fucking-" I spit to the side. Stringy. His precum is so *thick* it clings to my lips in ropes. "You're ENJOYING this!" His balls PULSE above my forehead, CLENCHING in their sack. And a fresh gout of that warm, sticky stud-spit erupts from his cumslit and lands DIRECTLY in my left eye. I shriek. "ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! I'M MOVING!" (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/touch cock.jpg","'ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! I'M MOVING!'","right")My hands are shaking as I reach up-reach *up*, toward that dangling horror, toward the cock that's been teabagging my face for the last thirty seconds-and my fingers make contact with *heat*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.20),(a:400,0.32),(a:800,0.42),(a:1200,0.48),(a:1600,0.44),(a:2000,0.48),(a:2400,0.44),(a:2800,0.42),(a:3200,0.40)))) It feels like gripping a fever-hot iron wrapped in wet velvet. It is terrifyingly *alive*. It THROBS under my touch, FLEXES against my palm. It's covered in this warm, slippery layer of who-knows-what that makes my grip slip and slide. The shaft is HEAVY. Heavier than it looks. When I try to wrap my fingers around it, I can't even get halfway-my thumb and middle finger are INCHES apart, and the flesh between them is *twitching*. His cock LURCHES in my hands. "Hold STILL-" Another rope of precum jets out and spatters across my exposed tits. I feel it drip down into my cleavage, warm and GLUEY, soaking into whatever's left of my dignity. His flare is ENORMOUS up close. The head of his cock is the size of a fucking APPLE, the edges all ruffled and ridged, that massive cumslit gaping open like a toothless mouth. Grey-pink meat with darker speckles, the whole thing WET and SHINY and THROBBING in my hands.(simple_option:"04 handjob continue","Keep stroking.")]($play:"sex loop","horse hj")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/5.png")I scramble backwards in the sand, worming my way out from under his barrel chest. He turns his head to watch me with those amber eyes, that knowing look. His cock SWINGS with the motion: *SLAP-wobble-SLAP*, heavy as a fucking war-hammer, trailing a continuous string of that clear stud-spit that keeps COMING like a faucet someone forgot to turn off. "Right." I climb to my knees. Sand clings to my skin where his precum made it paste. My hands are shaking. "RIGHT. Let's just... get this OVER with." Jarkrond shifts, presenting his hindquarters like he's done this before. Maybe he HAS, I realize with horror. Maybe Snib has had OTHERS do exactly this. And now I'm kneeling beside eighteen-plus inches of stallion prick that's bobbing gently in the desert air. My fingers close around him again. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/oasis hj 1.jpg","*SQUELCH*")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.48,"baseFrom",0.14,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",900,"intervalTo",600,"attackMs",100,"sustainMs",50,"releaseMs",120,"rampBeats",20,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.10))($play:"sex loop","horse hj") *SQUELCH*. The grease is warmer now. More of it. A fresh coat has emerged as his cock has hardened, mixing with the precum into something approaching BATTER. It oozes between my fingers as I start to pump. The SOUND- *GLRRRK-SCHLP-GLOORRP* -is like fucking someone with a fistful of half-set gelatin. "You DISGUSTING-" *pump* "-FERAL-" *pump* "-REVOLTING-" My breasts are swinging with the motion. Each stroke makes them SWAY, *JINGLE-slap-JINGLE*, the chains between my scale-triangles tinkling merrily while I grip this monster's fuck-pole with both fists and work it like I'm churning butter. His hind leg STAMPS. Dust rises. "Oh, you LIKE that?" I snarl up at him, and he cranes his neck around to look at me, those amber eyes half-lidded with undeniable PLEASURE. "You like having a HERO milk your disgusting HORSE-PIPE?" *GLORRP-SHLUCK-SPLRRRT* A particularly thick glob of his stud-slop BURPS from his cumslit and lands on my wrist. Warmer than the rest. Slightly YELLOW. I gag. But I don't stop. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/oasis hj 2.jpg","'ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! I'M MOVING!'")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.42,"peakTo",0.56,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.14,"intervalFrom",650,"intervalTo",450,"attackMs",75,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",90,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10))($play:"sex loop","horse hj") My arms are burning. This THING is heavy: the shaft, the whole package, those fist-sized nuts swinging in their sack with each pump, occasionally SLAPPING against my forearms because I've lost all sense of distance, all sense of anything except UP and DOWN and the obscene squelching and the HEAT radiating off him like he's got a furnace where his prostate should be. "Come ON-" I'm panting now. Can't help it. "Just-FINISH-you-ANIMAL-" His haunches CLENCH.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.50),(a:500,0.56),(a:1000,0.62),(a:1500,0.68),(a:2000,0.72),(a:2500,0.70),(a:3000,0.74),(a:3500,0.76)))) I feel it before I see it-the FLEX in his shaft, the sudden SWELL of his balls drawing up tight, and then his cock LURCHES in my grip hard enough to nearly rip free- (bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.85),(a:200,0.40),(a:800,0.80),(a:1000,0.38),(a:1600,0.75),(a:1800,0.35),(a:2400,0.70),(a:2600,0.32),(a:3200,0.65),(a:3400,0.28),(a:4000,0.60),(a:4200,0.24),(a:4800,0.55),(a:5000,0.20),(a:5600,0.48),(a:5800,0.16),(a:6400,0.40),(a:6600,0.12),(a:7200,0.32),(a:7400,0.08),(a:8000,0.22),(a:8200,0.04),(a:8800,0.14),(a:9000,0.02),(a:9600,0))))(sperm:"SPLLLOOOOORRRRSSSHHHH",4,"splurt 3")A finger-thick strand of pearly-grey stud-gunk ROCKETS from that gaping cumslit and SPLATS into the wet mud near the oasis edge. I watch, jaw dropped, hands still wrapped around his spasming pole, as it COILS there like a dying serpent, so thick it barely spreads, and SITS there in a glistening heap while his cock rears back for another shot. (sperm:"BLLLOOOOORRRRPPPTT",5,"splurt 4")This one hits the palm tree. STICKS. Starts sliding down the bark in a viscous grey trail. Jarkrond WHINNIES-high and sharp-and his whole hindquarters THRUST forward, fucking through my fists, and I have to SCRAMBLE to keep my grip as he starts RUTTING into empty air, his massive body shaking with each blast.(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/cum.jpg","A finger-thick strand of pearly-grey stud-gunk ROCKETS from that gaping cumslit.","right")(hidden_gem:"I'm counting-four, five, SIX ropes now-and they're not getting SMALLER.","I'm counting-four, five, SIX solid, seething salvos-and they're not shrinking, not slowing, not showing any signs of cessation or civilized self-restraint.") Each one is THICK as my thumb, DENSE with whatever concentrated FUCK-GRAVY his balls have been brewing since Clover left, and the SMELL- It's hitting me in WAVES now, each eruption releasing a fresh cloud of that stallion-MUSK that goes straight to whatever broken part of my brain is supposed to process SEX. My nipples are ACHING against the armor. My thighs are CLENCHED so tight my muscles burn. And between my legs, behind that thin strip of metal, I can feel myself getting- NO. I pump HARDER. "GET IT OUT," I snarl through gritted teeth. "ALL of it. EMPTY those disgusting HORSE-BALLS!" The mud near the water's edge is practically GLAZED now, his thick seed PUDDLING in the divots and starting to PILE UP where it's thickest: three-dimensional MOUNDS of horse-nut SITTING there, too dense to sink, too viscous to spread. His legs are shaking. His tail is FLAGGED straight up. And that monster in my hands is still PULSING, still FLEXING, still trying to breed something that isn't there- This one comes out CHUNKY. Actual CLOTS now: dense packets of his stallion-cream, concentrated sperm that PLOP onto the ground like someone dumped a fistful of day-old porridge. I can see his swimmers in it. Not with my eyes. But some primitive part of me KNOWS what's wriggling in those thick white masses, knows that each one of those gooey piles contains enough potent animal-seed to knock up a dozen mares, and the knowledge makes my stomach flip. *drool...* Finally. FINALLY. The jets are weakening. Still thick. Still ROPES. But smaller now, weaker, his cock going from LAUNCHING to DRIBBLING as the last of his load oozes out in syrupy strands that swing from his cumslit and drip-drip-drip onto the thoroughly defiled sand. Jarkrond STAMPS once more. Blows air through his nostrils. When he turns his head to look at me, *satisfaction* pools in those amber eyes like warm oil. "There." My voice comes out hoarse. Wrecked. "Happy NOW?" His cock is still out. Still DRIPPING. As I watch, it starts to soften, gradually retracting toward his sheath, that massive head disappearing inch by inch into its hiding place. My hands are COVERED. Up to my ELBOWS. His sheath-grease and precum and actual SEED have mixed into this... this *FROSTING* that clings to my skin, white-grey and REEKING, and when I try to wipe them on my thighs all I do is spread it around. Jarkrond nickers. Almost *friendly*. "Don't you DARE act smug," I spit at him, climbing to my feet. My legs are shaking. From anger. From exertion. From absolutely nothing else. "This was a ONE-TIME thing. For survival. Do you UNDERSTAND me?" He blinks. *Chuffs.* "Now LET'S GO. We've wasted enough time on your-your-" I gesture at the destruction around us, the mud glazed with cooling seed, the palm tree dripping with his gunk, the smell hanging in the air thick as fog. "-your DISGUSTING needs." I grab a handful of clean sand and scour my hands as best I can-not nearly enough-then approach his flank to mount again. He holds perfectly still this time. "Oh, NOW you cooperate," I mutter, swinging my leg over his back.(simple_option:"04 continue journey","Ride toward the marshes.")

($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")(change_stat:"heroism",-15)The rope touches my lip. Something inside me *cracks*. *Gives way*. Like a dam that's been holding back a flood for too long, developing hairline fractures that spider outward until the whole structure is more hole than wall. "F-fine." The word escapes me on a breath I didn't mean to release. "FINE." I scramble out from under him-graceless, desperate, my spike heels carving furrows in the wet sand, my ridiculous tits *SLAP-wobbling* against each other as I roll and crawl and finally manage to get my feet under me. Sand clings to the precum on my face. Sand in my hair. Sand in my cleavage. I'm a mess. I'm a *disaster*. I'm about to jerk off a horse because I can't figure out any other way to make him MOVE. "You want this?" I'm growling now, my voice hoarse-rage already curdling into surrender. "You want me to-to *milk* you like some fucking-like a BREEDER?" Jarkrond's ears prick forward. His cock *bobs*. I circle around to his flank, positioning myself where I can reach his equipment without being directly under him again. From this angle the full horror of his arousal is on display: that mottled shaft jutting from his distended sheath, easily eighteen inches now and still not fully rigid, thick as my forearm and *curved* with the weight of itself, the flared head gaping wide and drizzling a continuous strand of precum onto the sand. The puddle beneath him has grown. Dark. Glistening. Spreading. My hands hover. I can feel the *heat* radiating off his flesh from six inches away. "I trained with the finest swordmasters in Valaria." My voice cracks. "I learned magic. I killed a DRAGON, you feral piece of-" I grab his cock. *THWACK*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:400,0.34),(a:800,0.44),(a:1200,0.50),(a:1600,0.46),(a:2000,0.50),(a:2400,0.46),(a:2800,0.44),(a:3200,0.42)))) The sound it makes when my fingers close around it-that meaty, *wet* impact of palm meeting flesh-echoes off the palm trees. He's so THICK that my fingers don't even come close to meeting around his girth. The texture is obscene: hot as a forge, slick with sheath-grease and precum, the skin sliding loosely over the rigid core beneath when I adjust my grip. Jarkrond stamps his rear hoof. His whole body *shudders*. "STAY STILL," I snarl, but my voice comes out breathy. My head is spinning. This close to his equipment, squatting in the muck with both hands wrapped around what has to be twenty pounds of stallion meat, the smell is *overwhelming*. Rawer than musk now. I start to pump.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.32,"peakTo",0.50,"baseFrom",0.14,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",850,"intervalTo",580,"attackMs",95,"sustainMs",48,"releaseMs",115,"rampBeats",18,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.10)) *SCHLICK.* *SCHLICK.* *SCHLICK.* The sounds are OBSCENE. My arms are working in tandem, pulling up from the root of his shaft to just below that flared head, the precum serving as lubricant, coating my fingers, my palms, running down my wrists in thick rivulets. My tits are SWINGING with the motion: *SLAP-wobble-SLAP*, the chains between the scale-triangles jingling. "Is THIS what you wanted?" I'm growling up at him, my face contorted with outrage even as my hands keep working, keep PUMPING. "Some big-titted fuck-doll to MILK you? Is THAT what-" His cock *FLEXES* in my grip in response. The shaft goes rigid. Fully hard now, every vein standing out in stark relief, the flared head spreading WIDER until it's the size of my fist. His balls draw UP toward his body, the wrinkled sack going taut.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.48),(a:500,0.54),(a:1000,0.60),(a:1500,0.66),(a:2000,0.72),(a:2500,0.70),(a:3000,0.74),(a:3500,0.76)))) "Oh no. No no no-are you already-" The first rope *ERUPTS*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.82),(a:200,0.38),(a:800,0.78),(a:1000,0.35),(a:1600,0.74),(a:1800,0.32),(a:2400,0.70),(a:2600,0.28),(a:3200,0.65),(a:3400,0.24),(a:4000,0.58),(a:4200,0.20),(a:4800,0.50),(a:5000,0.16),(a:5600,0.42),(a:5800,0.12),(a:6400,0.34),(a:6600,0.08),(a:7200,0.26),(a:7400,0.04),(a:8000,0.18),(a:8200,0.02),(a:8800,0)))) A thick, lazy, impossibly HEAVY strand of horse cum arcs through the air and SPLATS into the mud with enough force to crater it. Yellower and thicker than human seed, the consistency of warmed butter mixed with raw egg. "FUCK!" I pump harder. Faster. My arms are BURNING but I can't stop now, can't leave him half-finished, the collar humming warm and *pleased* against my throat. The second rope is bigger. LONGER. It hits the mud and doesn't sink-it PILES, coiling on itself like some obscene serpent made of pure stallion slop. Jarkrond WHINNIES. His front hooves stamp the sand. His whole body SHUDDERS as I milk him, as I WRING his fat horse cock with both hands, my ridiculous curves bouncing and jiggling and SLOSHING with the effort. Each jet thicker than the last. Each one adding to the growing MOUND of stud-slop in the mud beside the oasis spring. The smell is CHOKING me now: that concentrated reek of horse cum, thick enough to taste without even opening my mouth, seeping into my pores, soaking into my HAIR from being this close. His balls CLENCH. The final rope is the worst. It shoots out, a solid stream that goes on for three full seconds, adding a last viscous coil to the pile before tapering off to a drizzle, then a drip, then nothing. I release his cock. It SLAPS back against his belly, still half-hard, still dripping. I'm on my knees in the mud. My arms are COATED to the elbow in horse cum and precum and sheath-grease. My face is flushed. My nipples are hard as diamonds against the scale-triangles. Jarkrond turns his head to look at me. Those amber eyes are inscrutable. He steps away from the cum-pile. Presents his flank. Lowers slightly. Just enough for me to mount. *Ready when you are.* "I hate you," I whisper, but I'm already reaching for his mane.(simple_option:"04 continue journey","Get back on.")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0))))The precum lands on my closed lips with a wet *splat*. Something inside me *snaps*. "NO!" I roar. My hands find the sand. I'm SCRABBLING backward like a crab, sliding out from under him, his dangling horsecock slapping against my forehead as I go, leaving a wet STREAK across my face, and I don't CARE, I don't fucking CARE because I am NOT doing this! "You want to know something?" I'm on my feet now, wobbling in these fucking heels, wiping horse-slime off my cheek with the back of my hand. "You want to KNOW something, you overgrown MULE?" Jarkrond turns to face me, his cock still hanging heavy and dripping, those amber eyes holding that infuriating *amusement*. "I have watched-" My voice cracks. I don't stop. "-I have WATCHED my wife get GROPED by a three-foot GOBLIN. I have watched her STROKE his disgusting green COCK. I have-I have TOUCHED it myself, I-" *DRIP.* His precum hits the sand between us. "-I have been TRANSFORMED into THIS-" I gesture at my ridiculous body, my tits still heaving from the fall, sand stuck to my cleavage like glitter on a festival whore. "-this FUCKDOLL body that gets WET every time something with a PULSE looks at me wrong, and I have ENDURED it! I have kept going! Because somewhere in this-this MEAT-SUIT-" I'm pacing now, my heels leaving furious divots in the sand. "-there is still a HERO! There is still ALDRIC THE GREAT, who held the bridge at Thornwall for THREE DAYS! Who-who-" My voice breaks properly this time. "Who loved his wife," I finish, quieter. "Who LOVES his wife. Present tense. And if I let YOU-" I point at his swinging equipment. "-if I wrap my hands around THAT, what am I? What's LEFT of me?" Jarkrond's ears swivel forward. "I'll tell you what's left: NOTHING. A hole. A collection of holes that things FUCK. And I am NOT-" I stomp toward him, jabbing my finger at his chest. "-I am NOT going to become that. Not for Snib. Not for you. Not for ANYONE." His cock *twitches*. Another rope of precum splatters onto the sand, dangerously close to my boot. "So you can stand there with your-your-" I wave at the obscene display. "-your SITUATION all day. I don't care. I'll WALK to the marshes. I'll crawl if I have to. But I am NOT touching your-" He takes a step forward. I hold my ground. "-your disgusting, dripping, probably-disease-ridden horse DONG!" We stand there. Eye to eye. Fine, eye to chest, given our height difference, but the SENTIMENT is eye to eye. His nostrils flare. He breathes me in again, all my rage and fear and-and whatever ELSE my traitorous body is producing. His cock bobs with his breathing. That cumslit is still gaping, still drooling, still making little *plink-plink* sounds as fluid hits sand. Then, slowly, almost *grudgingly*, he steps back. His head tosses once. Ears flat. "That's RIGHT, fine!" I'm shouting at a horse. I'm shouting at a horse and I don't care. "NOW-" I point toward the southwest. "-we're going to the MARSHES. You're going to CARRY me there like a NORMAL horse. And if your-your-" I can't even look at it. "-if THAT doesn't go back where it BELONGS by the time I mount up, I swear on every Ephemeral, I will find a way to make you REGRET it!" Jarkrond chuffs. That fucking almost-laugh. But he turns. Presents his flank. Waits for me to mount. His cock is still out. Still making my head swim every time the breeze carries his scent in my direction. I ignore it. I grab his mane, haul myself onto his back-graceless, furious, my tits *SLAPPING* against his withers hard enough to hurt-and I settle onto his spine with my thighs clenched so tight my muscles scream. "MOVE." He moves. If his gait seems *deliberately* rough, if his spine seems to grind *harder* against my crotch than before, if his musk seems *thicker* somehow... I ignore that too. I've won this round.(simple_option:"04 continue journey","The Sandwalkers are waiting.")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.20,"peakTo",0.26,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",750,"intervalTo",750,"attackMs",38,"sustainMs",28,"releaseMs",55,"rampBeats",6,"intensityJitter",0.05,"intervalJitter",0.10,"depthJitter",0.04))(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/transition.jpg","The desert dies by drowning-dragged down, degree by dreadful degree, into the dark, dank dominion of the deep.") ($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")($play:"song","swamp music")(hidden_gem:"The desert dies by drowning.","The desert dies by drowning-dragged down, degree by dreadful degree, into the dark, dank dominion of the deep.") It happens gradually at first: the sand growing darker underfoot, moisture seeping up from some hidden aquifer to paint the dunes with rust. For the first time, I'm grateful for Jarkrond's broad back beneath me. (if:(get_choice:"04 resist horse","Fail Check") or (get_choice:"04 final choice","Give in."))["Careful here," I murmur, my hand resting on his neck in a gesture that would have been impossible an hour ago. Something shifted between us at that oasis-something I don't want to examine too closely. His ear flicks back toward my voice, acknowledging, and he adjusts his path to avoid a particularly wet stretch of ground. We understand each other now. I hate that we do.](else:)["Don't get comfortable," I growl at him, though the warning is as much for myself as for him. "That back there was a one-time display of your disgusting animal nature. It changes nothing." He chuffs, and I feel the vibration of it through his whole body. *Whatever you say*, that sound seems to say. *Whatever you say.*] Then the first standing water appears. Pools that reflect the copper-stained sky like shattered mirrors, their surfaces so still they might be glass until a bubble of marsh-gas rises through them and *pops*, releasing a sulfurous belch that makes my eyes water. The sand becomes mud. The mud becomes mire. And the smell changes. First comes vegetation-*green* things, after two days of nothing but dust and Snib's rotting musk. My lungs drink it in like wine. Then the rot arrives beneath it, sweet-sick and cloying, the perfume of things decomposing underwater where the sun can't find them. And underneath that, threading through everything like a promise of violence: something *animal*. Territorial. Jarkrond's ears pin flat against his skull. "I know," I tell him, because suddenly I do. The Sandwalkers who left that fox skull on Snib's doorstep didn't come from the Shifting Sands at all. I'd assumed desert tribe, the *Kheth-Suul*, but these tracks lead into swampland. The *Kheth-Muur*: Marsh-Walkers. Aldric fought alongside them once, years ago, against a band of river pirates who'd been raiding both human and Sandwalker settlements near Lowmarsh. He remembered their bone-crested hair. Their milk-white scars. The way they moved through water like ghosts made of leather and obsidian. He also remembered their Bone-Seers. "This got much worse," I mutter. The trees begin around the same time the ground loses any pretense of solidity. They're not trees anymore. Not really. They're *corpses* of trees, drowned oaks and willows that died standing and never fell. Their bark has rotted away to reveal wood bleached bone-white by decades of submersion, and from every skeletal branch hangs the bone-moss. Grey and fibrous, trailing in curtains from the canopy, it sways in air that never quite becomes wind. When one strand brushes my shoulder, I flinch-it's *rough*, like dried sinew. Jarkrond's pace slows. His head lowers. Every few steps he pauses(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.12,"peakTo",0.14,"baseFrom",0.03,"baseTo",0.03,"intervalFrom",1100,"intervalTo",1100,"attackMs",35,"sustainMs",25,"releaseMs",55,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.04)) to test the ground ahead with one hoof before committing his weight, and this proud beast, the one who demanded sexual tribute at the oasis, is *cautious* now. Whatever lives in these waters, Ash-runners are not its apex predator. (hidden_gem:"The light changes so gradually I don't notice until I look up and realize I can no longer see the sun.","The light lessens so lazily, so languorously, that I fail to feel it fading until I lift my face and find the firmament sealed-the sun stolen, swallowed somewhere above the skeletal, suffocating canopy.") The canopy of dead branches and bone-moss filters everything to a greenish-grey that turns the world underwater-dim even at midday. Shadows don't fall where they should. Sometimes they *lead* instead of follow. Sometimes they move when nothing else does. And the sound- The desert was *silent*. A held breath. A vacuum. The marsh is *loud*. Insects drone in waves that rise and fall like breathing, cicadas screaming their presence to anything that might be listening. Birds call from somewhere in the bone-white canopy, strange sounds that might be warnings or might be lures. Water moves constantly: dripping, splashing, gurgling, the marsh digesting itself in real time. And underneath it all, so low I feel it more than hear it: a *grumble*. Like distant thunder. Like a stomach growling. Like something very large shifting its weight in the dark water ahead.(simple_option:"04 jarkrond stops","Jarkrond stops.")

(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.04,"amplitude",0.03,"periodMs",2000,"forever",true))(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/swamp.jpg","We pass the first bone-markers twenty minutes into the true marsh.") ($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")($play:"song","swamp music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(if:(get_choice:"04 resist horse","Fail Check") or (get_choice:"04 final choice","Give in."))[Jarkrond's whole body has gone rigid beneath me, muscles bunched for either fight or flight. His ears swivel constantly, tracking sounds I can barely perceive. When I lean forward to stroke his neck, an intimacy that would have been unthinkable this morning, I can feel his heart hammering beneath my palm. "Just a little further," I whisper. "We find their camp, we deal with whatever they want, we go home." *Home*. To Snib's hut. To Elara's cooling warmth. To whatever fresh degradation awaits. But it's still *home*, compared to this. Jarkrond's head turns. Those amber eyes meet mine over his shoulder, and in them I see something I haven't seen from him before. He starts walking again.](else:)[Every muscle in Jarkrond's body has gone tense, and when I squeeze my thighs to urge him forward, the pressure grinding that damned ridge of his spine against my pussy again, he doesn't move. His ears are pinned. His nostrils flare with each breath. "Move," I command. "We don't have time for-" That grumble comes again, closer now. Something *large* is moving in the water ahead. I can see the ripples spreading outward from a point I can't quite locate, disturbing the mirror-still surface. Jarkrond stamps his hoof. Once. Twice. "I know," I say through gritted teeth. "But the collar won't let me turn back, so we go *through*. Understand? Through or nothing." He doesn't understand. He's a horse. An intelligent horse. An *insufferable* horse. But still a horse. He must hear something in my voice, or smell something in my fear-sweat, because after a long moment he begins to move again. Testing every step. His head swinging side to side like a serpent tasting the air.] We pass the first bone-markers twenty minutes into the true marsh. Human skulls, mounted on stakes driven into the muck at the waterline. Their empty eye sockets face outward. In Sandwalker culture, the honored dead watch over territorial boundaries. These skulls aren't threats. They're ancestors and guardians. Each one has a single rune carved into its forehead. "We see you," I murmur to the nearest skull. "We mean no harm." Its empty gaze offers no response. The channels between drowned trees grow narrower as we press deeper. Some are wide enough for Jarkrond to wade through-the water never rises past his belly, though I lift my feet anyway, unwilling to let the black water touch my skin. Others force us to find paths along ridges of firmer ground that wind between pools like the spines of submerged serpents. Jarkrond struggles. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/mud.jpg","His hooves are made for sand, not sucking mud that tries to swallow him with every step.") His hooves are made for sand, not sucking mud that tries to swallow him with every step. Twice he stumbles, nearly going down, and I feel the massive muscles of his hindquarters *strain* to pull himself free of muck that doesn't want to let go. His proud bearing from the oasis has vanished entirely. Now he moves with his head low, his ears constantly swiveling, his nostrils flared to catch every hint of danger. But he keeps going. The bone-chimes appear next. (set:$map_position to (a: 1670,4330))(map: (a: 2050, 3940),(a: 1950, 4050),(a: 1860, 4150),(a: 1760, 4200)) Strings of human femurs, ribs, finger-bones hang from dead branches across the approach channel. They're arranged to create an alarm system; *any* movement through this passage will make noise. The Sandwalkers know when visitors approach. *Always*.(simple_option:"04 greet sandwalkers","'Hello?'")

(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/swamp further.jpg") ($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")($play:"song","swamp music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")"Hello?" My voice comes out too loud in the underwater-quiet. The bone-chimes rattle at the disturbance, a sound like dice thrown by dead hands. "I am-" I remember the word they use. A deep-seated memory. "-a representative of the territory you've been threatening." I find my voice somewhere in the character I used to be. "I come to discuss Kharath." Silence. Then, from somewhere above: movement. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/spotted.jpg","right","He's looking at me the way a predator looks at meat.")A figure appears on a platform I hadn't noticed, elevated twenty feet up, built into the branches of a drowned oak. Male. Young. His skin sun-darkened to deep bronze, ritual scarification across his bare chest forming raised keloid spirals that have been *filled* with ash and crushed bone, making them appear white against his flesh. His hair is shaved at the sides, the central ridge matted with rendered fat and red ochre that makes it stand stiff like a blade. He's holding a spear. Seven feet of fire-hardened marsh-reed with a bone tip that glints in the dim light. (hidden_gem:"And he's looking at me the way a predator looks at meat.","And he's looking at me the way a leopard looks at a lamb-a long, languorous, lip-licking look that leaves no lingering doubt about what I am in this locale.") His eyes travel down my body with deliberate, *insulting* slowness. The inadequate armor that leaves my massive breasts to bounce with every movement. The strip of metal that barely covers my pussy. The absurd spike-heeled boots that mark me as something meant for fucking, not fighting. He says something in Sandwalker tongue, though it sounds different from the mouth of a marsh-tribe warrior than it did from the desert tribes. The words are *wet*. Full of sounds that gurgle. Then, in accented Valarian: "What manner of *thing* approaches the Kheth-Muur?" *Thing*.(simple_option:"04 thing with a message","'A thing with a message.'")

($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")($play:"song","swamp music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/1.png")"A *thing* with a message," I answer, keeping my voice steady. "Your tribe has been leaving warnings at the boundary of goblin territory to the northeast. I've come to discuss terms." The warrior's eyes narrow. They flick to Jarkrond, taking in the obvious desert-beast struggling in marsh conditions, and then back to me. "You serve the *green-filth*?" he repeats. (hidden_gem:"The collar *pulses* against my throat. Not a command. Just a reminder of what I am.","The collar *pulses* against my throat-not a command, not a compunction, just a calm, cold, categorical reminder of what I am: chattel, carrying messages for its keeper.") "I speak for it." Something shifts in his expression. Interest? Amusement? It's hard to read behind the ash-lines painted across his cheeks. "The green-filth has sent a *pleasure-slave* to call parley?" He steps closer to the edge of his platform, and I see other figures moving in the canopy now: more warriors, emerging from shadows I hadn't noticed. Three. Five. Seven. All of them armed. All of them looking at me with variations of the same expression. *Meat*. *Female meat*. *Female meat dressed like a whore*. "I am more than I appear," I say, and my hand drops to Whisperwind's hilt. The warrior on the platform laughs. "All *things* say that," he replies. "Come. The bone-seers will determine what you truly are. And if your *master*-" he speaks the word like it tastes of shit-"has sent acceptable tribute..." His eyes travel down my body again. "...perhaps the Kharath can be settled without blood."(simple_option:"04 enter camp","Continue into the camp.")

(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/tribe.jpg") ($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")($play:"song","swamp music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(hidden_gem:"The rope-and-pulley lift rises like something meant for livestock.","The rope-and-pulley lift lurches upward-a rickety, rocking, livestock-loading contraption that creaks and complains like it's carrying cattle, which, considering my current classification, it essentially is.") I stand in its center while seven pairs of eyes drink me in from above, and the *creaking* of wet hemp is the only sound besides my own heartbeat and the distant grumble of whatever lurks beneath the black water. When the platform levels with theirs, I step off and immediately feel the reed-mat flooring give slightly under my spike heels, a sensation like walking on flesh. "The green-filth sends us *this*," the first warrior says, circling me now. He's close enough that I can smell him: rendered fat, old sweat, something reptilian. "Tits dressed in chain-scraps. A cunt barely covered. This is what passes for *diplomacy* in goblin-lands?" The others laugh. "I am-" His spear-butt cracks across my shoulder, not hard enough to wound but enough to make me stumble. My breasts *SLAM-wobble* with the impact, chains jingling like a fool's bells. "*Things* speak when spoken to." My hand finds Whisperwind's hilt. Seven spears lower toward me instantly. "Yes," another warrior says, this one older, the scars on his chest so numerous they've formed a second skin of white ridges. "Draw steel, pleasure-meat. Give us *reason*." I force my hand away from the blade. Force myself to *calculate*. Seven warriors here. How many more in the trees? The camp spreads across at least five elevated platforms that I can see, rope bridges connecting them like a spider's web. Smoke rises from a central fire. The smell of cooking meat. What *kind* of meat? It mixes with incense that makes my head swim. Lotus. They're burning *lotus*. "Chieftain!" the first warrior calls upward, toward a larger platform draped with bone-trophies. "The green-filth sends tribute!" A figure emerges from shadow. Taller than the others. In his hand: an obsidian blade, five feet of volcanic glass that catches what little light filters through. But it's what comes *behind* him that makes my blood freeze. A swamp-drake. Six legs. Crocodilian head. Grey-green scales that shift and ripple as it moves. It's smaller than I expected, twelve feet from snout to tail, but those forward-facing eyes are intelligent. Riding it: another warrior, this one female, her breasts bare. She carries a lance of bone and marsh-reed, and she's looking at me like I'm something scraped off a boot. The chieftain descends via a rope ladder, moving with the fluid grace of someone who's lived his entire life above water. When his bare feet touch the platform, I notice he's missing three toes, drake-bitten, most likely. "So." His voice is deeper than the others, the Valarian words careful and deliberate. "The green-filth that squats in our migration-path sends me a fuck-doll to negotiate." *Migration-path*. "You're leaving the marshes," I say, understanding immediately. "Something's driving you out." His eyes narrow. For a moment I see surprise there. He wasn't expecting brains behind the tits. "The *Greth-Drulak* are not your concern, meat-thing," he says. "Your concern is the message carved into your hide when we send you back to your master in pieces." The Bone-Drowned. I know that term: spirits that possess corpses in the deep marsh, animating them toward purposes no living thing understands. "Unless," the chieftain continues, and now his eyes travel down my body with the same insulting slowness as his warrior's had, "the green-filth has sent adequate *payment* for passage through territories that will soon be ours." "What payment would-" "The only currency your kind understands." He gestures at my exposed flesh. "Cunt. Mouth. The heat between your meat-pillows. We take thirty of you, use you until you're swollen with marsh-blood children, and the debt is paid." *Thirty women.* "The... the territory you're claiming has no women. Only the goblin and-" I swallow. "-and-" *My wife.* "The horse." The warriors laugh again. The chieftain doesn't. "Then the green-filth should have thought before it squatted where it doesn't belong. But perhaps..." He steps closer. I smell the drake-leather of his wrap, see the bone-dust in his scars catch torchlight. "Perhaps the fuck-doll herself wishes to pay the debt. One woman, serving thirty warriors for a moon's turning, might equal thirty women serving once." The female drake-rider makes a sound of disgust. Says something in their tongue that makes several warriors chuckle. "Vash'ti says you wouldn't survive three nights," the chieftain translates. "That soft meat like yours splits too easy. That we'd have to send you back to the green-filth in a basket." He leans down, a full foot taller than me, and I feel his breath on my face. "What say you, tribute-meat? Will you spread for the Kheth-Muur? Or shall we simply take what we need from the green-filth's territory?" My mind races. Aldric knew the territories. There's water in the northern wastes: the Shade Springs, hidden in box canyons, defensible, *unclaimed*. If I could convince them-(simple_option:"04 another option","'There's another option.'")(sethp: 75)

(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/lift.jpg","The chieftain's hand moves so fast I don't see it.") ($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")($play:"song","swamp music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")The chieftain's hand moves so fast I don't see it. His fingers close around my throat-not the collar, but the flesh above it-and he *lifts*. My spike heels leave the platform entirely. I dangle, choking, my legs kicking uselessly. "Meat-things do not *propose*." His grip tightens. Black spots dance in my vision. "Meat-things *accept* or *refuse*. Which are you?" He drops me. I land badly, one heel catching in the reed-mat, going down onto hands and knees. The position makes my ass jut up, my breasts hang down, and the warriors make appreciative sounds. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/fall.jpg","'Look, she presents like drake-bitch in season!'") "Look, she presents like drake-bitch in season!" "The green-filth trained this one well!" "Perhaps one moon isn't enough-perhaps we keep-" "ENOUGH." The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere. Old. Female. The warriors go silent instantly. (hidden_gem:"She emerges from the shadows of a smaller platform-ancient, skeletal, wearing robes that might be lotus-fiber or might be cobweb. Her eyes are milk-white, but they track my movement perfectly as I struggle back to my feet.","She emerges from the shadows-ancient, angular, all angles and absence, swathed in robes that might be lotus-fiber or might be cobweb or might be the cast-off caul of something that crawled between worlds. Her eyes are milk-white, blank as boiled bone, yet they track my every trembling motion with merciless, mantic precision.") The Bone-Seer. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/bone seer see.png","The tribe's Bone-Seer.") "This one bleeds magic," she says, her voice like wind through empty skulls. "Old magic." She glides closer, her feet not seeming to touch the platform. "She is... *changed*-thing. Was-warrior. Now-whore." "Then she can fight for her master's territory," the chieftain says. "Trial by blood. If she lives, we migrate north instead of east." "And if she wishes to *purchase* safe passage instead?" the Seer asks, those white eyes fixed on me. "If she opens her holes willingly, spreads her pale thighs for marsh-seed?" The chieftain grins, showing teeth filed to points. "Then we take her to the *breeding platform*. Let the warriors who've been too long without women relieve their needs. Then we move north as promised." The breeding platform. Of course they have a specific place for it. I think of Elara. Back at the hut with Snib. I think of the collar, warm against my throat, humming its pleasure. I think of Aldric the Great, who would have cut through these warriors like wheat. But I'm not him anymore. I'm this thing. This bouncing, dripping, *weak* thing. "Choose," the chieftain says. "My cock in your cunt, or my blade in your belly."(check_stat:"heroism",80)(if:$result is "pass")[(simple_option:"04 fight decision","'I'll gut you before you touch me.'")](else:)[(simple_option:"04 fight decision","'I'll gut you before you touch me.'","'Lead the way to your breeding platform.'","doom")]($play:"song","swamp music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/1.png")

(if:$choice is "'I'll gut you before you touch me.'")[(playwhenread:"draw sword")(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/i will fight.jpg","right","'I'll gut you before you touch me.'")(set:$gangbang to "Combat Loss")The words leave my mouth before I've fully committed to them, but the moment they're out I feel something *click* into place behind my sternum: something that remembers what it was like to be Aldric the Great. Whisperwind clears the scabbard with a sound like tearing silk. (if:(get_choice:"03 cut post","Succeed Check"))[(notification:"Your practice in Chapter 2 paid off... (start battle with full Vitality)")My body flows into the modified stance I discovered in the desert: elbows wider to accommodate these fucking udders, weight lower to compensate for the heel-platforms, the blade held at hip height where it won't collide with soft flesh. The corrupted steel sings as it catches the dim marsh-light, and I see the nearest warrior's eyes track not the blade but the *bounce* of my breasts as I settle into position. His mistake.](else:)[(notification:"Your lack of practice is affecting you...")(hidden_gem:"I take my old stance-Aldric's-and my right breast *SLAMS* into my bicep, throwing my elbow out at a wrong angle. The blade wavers. My center of gravity lurches forward from the heel-platforms, and when I try to compensate, this massive ass counterweights in a direction I'm not expecting.","I take my old stance-Aldric's-and my right breast *SLAMS* into my bicep like a sack of suet striking a swordswoman mid-swing, shoving my elbow sideways at some sorry angle. The blade wavers. My center careens forward from the cursed heel-platforms, and when I counter-lean, this colossal, calamitous arse counterweights in a completely catastrophic direction I couldn't have calculated.") I stumble. The warriors *howl* with laughter, a wet, gurgling sound in the humid air. "Look! The meat-thing can't even *hold* her steel!" The first spear comes before I've recovered. A testing thrust from the closest warrior, aimed at my exposed belly. I parry by instinct alone, but the impact travels through arms that are too short, wrists that are too thin. The shock makes my fingers go numb. My riposte is a half-second late. The warrior steps aside easily. (hp:-10,"You were injured!")Then *pain*: white-hot and intimate. A second warrior I didn't see has slid his bone-tipped spear along my ribs, opening a shallow cut from hip to the underside of my left breast. Blood wells immediately, bright red against pale skin, and the sensation is *sharper* than it should be. This body's nerve-endings are more sensitive. More *responsive*. I gasp, high and breathy and *wrong*, and the warriors drink it in with hungry eyes. "First blood to the Kheth-Muur!" "Make her bleed *more*!"] The great platform stretches fifty feet across. Smoke rises from the central fire-pit: an eight-foot gap with flames visible twenty feet below, the heat of it making the air shimmer. Five warriors form a closing semicircle, bone-tipped spears leveled. Behind them, two more hang back with blowguns. I can see the paralytic darts gleaming. The drake-rider circles on her mount at the platform's edge, lance ready. And on his bone-throne, the Chieftain watches with the patience of a man who's already decided how this ends. Seven feet of spear-reach against three feet blade. Five-to-one odds on a platform where one wrong step means fire or water or both. I need to shift tactics if I want to survive. The closest warrior lunges. Young. Eager. His eyes tracking my breasts instead of my blade. He wants to mark this pale skin, wants to make the fuck-doll scream. I whisper: <span class='wind'>"*Ventusfury*."</span> A *pulse* of wind. Concentrated wind that catches the fire-pit smoke and *shoves* it directly into his face. He's blind for one heartbeat. I attack.{(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/fight.jpg")(set: $pb_form to "elise") (set: $pb_magicSealed to false) (set:$portrait to "img/battle/elise.png") (set:$battle_backdrop to "img/ch04/sandwalkers/tribe.jpg") (set: $enemy_portrait to "img/battle/enemies/KhethMuurWarrior/KhethMuurWarrior.png") (battle: "04 combat result", "KhethMuurWarrior", (dm: "heroism", $heroism, "form", $pb_form, "magicSealed", $pb_magicSealed ) )($play:"song","swamp combat")}](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")(set:$gangbang to "Willing Tribute")(change_stat:"heroism",-20)($play:"song","gangbang music")Something shifts in the chieftain's amber eyes. *Disappointment*. He wanted me to fight. They ALL wanted to see me fight, to watch me struggle before they broke me. And I've denied them that pleasure, which means- "The fuck-doll knows its purpose." His voice carries no satisfaction. "Seize her." (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/defeat.jpg") Hands close on my arms before I can process the command. Rough, calloused palms, the hands of men who've spent their lives gripping spear-shafts and paddle-oars, wrap around my biceps with grip strength that makes my bones creak. I'm LIFTED, feet leaving the reed-mat platform entirely, and then I'm being CARRIED like a sack of grain, suspended between two warriors who smell of rendered fat and old sweat. "Put me DOWN-I said I'd GO willingly-" Someone LAUGHS. The sound bounces off the canopy of dead trees, multiplied by echoes until the whole marsh seems to be cackling at me. "*Willingly*?" One of the warriors, the one gripping my left arm, his scarification so extensive it forms a second skin of white ridges across his chest, leans close enough that I can smell the muraat-lotus on his breath. "You don't get to WALK to the breeding platform, tribute-meat. You get CARRIED. Like the offering you are." They're moving now, feet slapping against rope bridges that sway with each step, and I'm bouncing between them like-like-(simple_option:"04 1 gangbang begin","SLAP.")]

($play:"song","gangbang music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")*SLAP*.(playwhenread:"spank 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:60,0.48),(a:150,0.34),(a:300,0.40),(a:450,0.26),(a:600,0.30),(a:750,0.16),(a:900,0.20),(a:1100,0.08),(a:1300,0))))($play:"ambience","swamp ambience") A hand connects with my ass. HARD. The impact travels through the meat of my left cheek, makes it JIGGLE against the thin scale of my armor, and that wet, meaty CLAP echoes across the elevated platforms where women have emerged to watch. "Look at this!" The warrior behind me calls out to the gathering crowd. I can't see his face, can only feel his palm still resting on my ass like he's CLAIMING it. "The green-filth sends us his finest breeding-stock! See how the meat WOBBLES?" *SLAP-SLAP*. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/breeding platform.jpg","right","The breeding platform rises above the carnage like an altar above a charnel house.")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.68),(a:400,0.70),(a:520,0.46),(a:660,0.34),(a:820,0.22),(a:980,0.12),(a:1140,0))))Both cheeks now. He's ALTERNATING. Each impact sends shockwaves through my ass that I can FEEL traveling up my spine and down my thighs. Children are pointing. CHILDREN. Small faces peering from behind their mothers' legs, their eyes wide, watching a grown woman, a HERO once, though they'll never know it, being carried like livestock to slaughter. "Her ass-cheeks clap louder than our war-drums!" someone calls from a passing platform. "The green-filth feeds his fuckmeat well!" "Please-" The word scrapes out of me, though I don't know what I'm begging for. "-please, just-" "It speaks!" The chieftain is walking ahead of us, his obsidian greatsword across his back, not even bothering to look back. "Usually they don't find their voice until the third or fourth warrior. This one's eager." *I'm not EAGER. I'm not-* "Here we are." The chieftain stops at the base of a rope ladder leading UP, toward an isolated platform. It's higher than the others, built around the trunk of a massive dead cypress, and there's SMOKE rising from it: incense, I realize, as the first tendrils of something sweet and cloying curl down to meet us. Muraat-lotus. The warriors LIFT me higher, passing me upward like cargo being loaded onto a ship, and hands from ABOVE grab my arms, my waist, my HAIR, hauling me onto the platform while my legs kick uselessly and my tits swing and my ass bounces with every manhandled moment of the ascent. When they finally dump me onto the reed-mat floor, I land on my hands and knees: ass presented, thighs spread, head hanging. I hear the collective INTAKE of breath from the warriors who've followed me up. "*Kheth-suul*," someone breathes. A word I don't know. But the REVERENCE in his voice tells me everything. "Strip her." The chieftain's command is casual. Hands descend. My armor comes apart like it was DESIGNED to be removed. As it was. The clasps that seemed welded shut when I tried to adjust them FALL OPEN at a warrior's touch, the cups pulling away from my breasts with a wet *peeeeel* of sweat-stuck metal separating from skin, and then my tits are OUT- *SLOSH-BOUNCE-SETTLE*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.34),(a:150,0.22),(a:320,0.26),(a:480,0.14),(a:640,0.18),(a:790,0.08),(a:940,0.10),(a:1100,0.04),(a:1260,0)))) -heavy and pale in the lotus-smoke light, nipples IMMEDIATELY hardening in the humid air, the undersides glistening with trapped sweat that starts to drip down my ribs. The thong goes next. Someone YANKS and the metal *TWANGS* against my hipbones before the clasps give and it peels away. That scale had been WELDED to my pussy with sweat and the shame-slick I've been leaking since the chieftain first said "breeding platform." Suddenly thirty pairs of eyes are staring at my bare cunt, the puffy mound that's never known a cock, pink and glistening and TWITCHING under their collective gaze. "*Mother-of-Marrow*," someone whispers in their tongue. "Look how it *weeps*." "*Suuk-merra*." The chieftain circles me where I kneel, his bare feet silent on the reed-mat. "A seed-trench untouched by anything but fingers. The green-filth didn't even SAMPLE his own tribute-meat?" *I'm not tribute-meat. I'm-* His hand FISTS in my hair, YANKS my head back, and suddenly I'm staring up at the smoke-hazed sky through tear-blurred eyes while his face looms over mine, upside-down, those amber predator-eyes drinking in my expression. "What did he call you? Before you became *this*?" "E-Elise." The name scrapes out. Wrong. It's WRONG. "My name is-" "Your NAME is what we decide it is." He releases my hair, and my head DROPS, chin hitting my own collarbone. From this angle I can see straight down my own body: the pale canyon of my cleavage, the bare mound between my spread thighs. Past it, past ME, the chieftain is REMOVING HIS WRAP.(playwhenread:"ass hotdogging",(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2200,"forever",true)) The lotus smoke coils thicker here, turning the air into syrup I have to SUCK into my lungs, each breath coating my throat with that sweet-rot taste that makes my nipples feel like someone's running invisible tongues over them. My head's already *drowning* in it, and when the chieftain steps forward, his loincloth already discarded, I see his cock for the first time and my brain tries to process it through the lotus-fog: fourteen inches of sun-darkened meat mapped with veins thick as worms, the head angry-purple and already drooling this clear stuff that stretches from his piss-slit. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/chieftan.jpg") "HNNNH!" Straddling his hips, my thighs are forced so wide around that barrel torso that my hip joints ache. And his cock. Gods, his COCK. I can feel his PULSE through it: slow, strong, the heartbeat of something too large for its container. The weight alone pins me. This thing is HEAVY, dense as a weapon, hot as a brand. My skin where it touches feels scalded. His hands find my ass. *GRIP*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:300,0.24),(a:600,0.36),(a:1000,0.40),(a:1400,0.38),(a:1800,0.40),(a:2200,0.36),(a:2600,0.30),(a:3000,0.22),(a:3400,0.14),(a:3800,0)))) "Nnnngh-!" The sound escapes before I can stop it. His fingers *sink* in, calloused palms spreading my cheeks, and the position, the *vulnerability*, makes my heart hammer against my ribs. "Such *gifts* you have." He's *kneading* me now, slow circular motions that make my ass-flesh squish and reshape around his fingers. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/chieftan buttjob.jpg") "AHHH-AHHH-*HNNNNGH*!" "A thumb." He's talking to the watching warriors now, not to me. "Watch, brothers. Watch how the tribute-meat's body teaches her what she is." He lines up his cock with my entrance and I can FEEL the heat radiating off it from inches away, like holding your hand near a forge, and when the head makes contact-(playwhenread:"insert",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.78),(a:100,0.58),(a:200,0.65),(a:300,0.52),(a:450,0.46),(a:600,0.42),(a:800,0.38),(a:1000,0.36),(a:1200,0.34)))) *This is it. This is the moment Aldric truly dies and-* He pushes. My virgin pussy is tight as a fist despite all its drooling. His cockhead presses and my entrance resists: not like a door being opened, but like a mouth being forced wider than it wants to go. I feel every millimeter of the stretch separately, each one a new ring of muscle surrendering, and the sensation is nothing I have reference for. When I had a cock, penetration was PUSHING. This is being OPENED. Being hollowed out from the center. The burn starts at the rim and radiates inward like ripples in reverse, and somewhere behind the burn is something worse: a deep, aching RIGHTNESS, like a socket finding its joint. "NNNNGH-AHHHHH-OH-OH-OH-IT'S-GOING-IN-MMMMMPH-" "Listen to it sing," someone comments. "The tribute-meat's cunt is greeting its first cock."(simple_option:"04 1 insert","POP.")($play:"sex loop",0)

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/overwhelmed.jpg")($play:"sex loop","sex loop")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.52,"peakTo",0.66,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",580,"intervalTo",420,"attackMs",35,"sustainMs",55,"releaseMs",90,"rampBeats",20,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.08)) *SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP!* "AAAHHH! AAAHH! AAAHHNNNGGGG! FUCK! OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FU-AAAAAHHH!" ($play:"song","gangbang music")His head breaches me fully and my back ARCHES off the burlap, tits bouncing, and then he's sliding deeper and every inch is a revelation: I can feel his veins scraping my walls, can feel my pussy trying to both push him out and suck him deeper, can feel- "THE WEAKNESS!" He announces triumphantly. "I've found her weakness, brothers. Watch what happens when I-" He punches forward and his cockhead hits something DEEP(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.78),(a:80,0.60),(a:200,0.52),(a:400,0.44),(a:600,0.38),(a:800,0.34),"resumeAfter",true))): a barrier I didn't know I had, a tight ring of muscle at the very end of me. The impact sends a sensation I have no NAME for radiating through my pelvis: not pain, not pleasure, but some third thing that makes my vision go white and my womb CRAMP like a fist clenching around nothing. It's like being punched in the stomach from INSIDE. Like discovering a new organ by having it battered. "GHHHAAAAAAA-WHAT-WHAT IS-AAAAH-AH-AH-AH-*AAAAAHHH*!" "She's already cumming."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.68),(a:350,0.80),(a:700,0.74),(a:1050,0.86),(a:1400,0.80),(a:1750,0.92),(a:2100,0.86),(a:2450,0.96),(a:2800,0.90),(a:3150,1.0),(a:3500,0.92),(a:3850,0.96),(a:4200,0.88),(a:4550,0.90),(a:4900,0.80),(a:5250,0.82),(a:5600,0.72),(a:5950,0.65),(a:6300,0.55),(a:6650,0.45),(a:7000,0.35),(a:7500,0.25),(a:8000,0.16),(a:8500,0.08),(a:9000,0)))) Disappointment? Amusement? "Three strokes and the tribute-meat is painting my cock with her juice." He's right. But cumming as a man was nothing like this. That was a spike, sharp and done. This is a TIDE. It starts in my toes and rises through my calves, my thighs, pooling in my pelvis where it DETONATES. The detonation doesn't END. It keeps expanding, each wave stronger than the last. My pussy seizes around him: I can feel the individual muscles firing in sequence, ring after ring after ring from entrance to cervix, like a throat swallowing, squirt spraying around his shaft to splatter on the burlap while my whole body convulses like I'm being shocked by a magic spell. Through it all he stays BURIED, letting me thrash on his cock while the warriors laugh and make their observations: "Look at those milk-bags DANCE!" "She's flopping like a caught fish!" "The green-filth's whore is grateful for real cock!" When my orgasm finally releases me, I flop back onto the soaked burlap, panting like I've run for miles, sweat pooling in the hollow of my throat, and the chieftain hasn't even started FUCKING me yet. "Now," he says, pulling back until just his head remains inside, "let me show you what the Kheth-Muur do to pretty tribute-meat who crawl into our territory begging to be bred." He SLAMS forward. The impact drives all the air from my lungs in a sound like: "HOOOOOPH!" Then he's fucking me. Really fucking me. Pure RUTTING: his hips jackhammering between my spread thighs with wet SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAP sounds while his balls crack against my ass with meaty THWACK-THWACK-THWACKs. "GHAH-GAH-GAH-GAH-UNNH-UNNH-FUCK-FUCK-FFFUUUU-" Words dissolve into animal sounds as my brain tries to process being OPENED, INVADED, CLAIMED. My pussy stretches and clenches and DROWNS his cock in juice that froths white with the friction of his thrusting, and every time he bottoms out, every time that purple mushroom head punches my cervix, lightning shoots through my womb and makes my tits bounce so hard they're slapping my own face. The lotus smoke thickens, pouring into my gasping mouth, and suddenly everything comes into hyperfocus: each ridge of his fingerprint sears where he grips my thighs; my pussy walls map every vein on his cock; my ass jiggles in waves from each impact; deep inside, my eggs RELEASE in answer to this breeding frenzy, and when he leans forward to bite my nipple-(minigame:"04 1 break choice",10)

($play:"sex loop","sex loop")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")The chieftain's teeth close on my nipple and it's like he's bitten through the last thread holding my mind together. "GHHHAAAAFUCK-FUCK-FUCKFUCKFUUUUUUCK!" The word ERUPTS from me in a spray of spit that catches the torchlight, and suddenly I'm not Aldric-trapped-in-Elise anymore. I'm MEAT: this writhing pale thing getting her guts CHURNED by marsh-cock while a dozen warriors watch my sanity dissolve like sugar in rain. His hips HAMMER me into the burlap: WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-WHAP. Each thrust drives my ass deeper into the sweat-soaked fabric until I'm lying in a CRATER of my own making. My hair fans beneath me like a black halo rapidly becoming a black MOP, soaking up sweat and pussy-juice and the cum already leaking from me, strands plastered across my face and caught between my teeth and wrapped around his knuckles where he's braced against the mat. The indent is shaped perfectly to my curves, and when he pulls back for the next stroke I can hear my asscheeks PEEL away from the wet material with this obscene *schlllllorp* before- WHAM! He drives back in and my pussy makes sounds like someone's fisting a jar of honey: *GLORP-SQUELCH-GLORP*. My tits perform their own fucking SYMPHONY, the left one slapping my chin (*plap!*) while the right one swings sideways to hit my arm (*whap!*), and they're so fucking HEAVY, so full of whatever makes tits feel like tits, that each impact leaves red marks on my too-pale skin. "She's LEAKING!" someone shouts, and they're right. I'm FLOODING. Pussy juice streams down my ass crack to pool beneath me until the chieftain's balls are SPLASHING in it with each thrust, making these wet SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT sounds that echo off the dead trees. The lotus smoke has turned my blood to liquid lightning. Every nerve ending is firing at once: I can feel individual drops of sweat rolling down the chieftain's chest to drip onto my belly, can feel the way his pubic bone is MASHING my clit flat with each impact, can feel my pussy walls rippling along his length like they're trying to milk him from root to tip- "HNNNGH-GONNA-GONNA CUM-CUMMING-CUMMMMING!" "She announces it!" The chieftain laughs, never breaking rhythm. "Like a town crier! 'THE WHORE IS CUMMING!'" I am. My pussy CLAMPS so hard he has to FIGHT to keep thrusting, the muscles seizing around him while my whole body goes rigid as a battlefield corpse. My back bows off the platform until only my shoulders and ass are touching, creating this obscene arch that pushes my tits toward the smoke-hazed sky, and the SOUND I make- "She's already cumming."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.68),(a:350,0.80),(a:700,0.74),(a:1050,0.86),(a:1400,0.80),(a:1750,0.92),(a:2100,0.86),(a:2450,0.96),(a:2800,0.90),(a:3150,1.0),(a:3500,0.92),(a:3850,0.96),(a:4200,0.88),(a:4550,0.90),(a:4900,0.80),(a:5250,0.82),(a:5600,0.72),(a:5950,0.65),(a:6300,0.55),(a:6650,0.45),(a:7000,0.35),(a:7500,0.25),(a:8000,0.16),(a:8500,0.08),(a:9000,0)))) (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/arch back.jpg") It's the sound a soul makes when it's being fucked out through a cunt. That's when he starts to swell. I FEEL it: his cock getting FATTER inside me, stretching walls that are already stretched to capacity. His balls draw up from their steady slap-slap-slap against my ass to press TIGHT against his body, and his face contorts: rage and ecstasy fused into one animal mask- "Take the planting, tribute-meat! Take what you came here for!" The first rope of cum hits my cervix like a crossbow bolt.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:1500,0.60),(a:3000,0.65),(a:4500,0.68),(a:6000,0.70),(a:7500,0.72),(a:9000,0.70),(a:10500,0.66),(a:12000,0.60),(a:14000,0.50),(a:16000,0.40),(a:18000,0.30),(a:20000,0.20),(a:22000,0.12),(a:24000,0)))) Hot. SCALDING hot. Hot enough that I swear I can feel it COOKING my insides, and thick, so thick it SQUEEZES out of his cock in these massive pulses I can feel traveling up his shaft where it's buried in me- "TAKING IT-TAKING YOUR CUM-FILLING ME-BREEDING ME-YESYESYES!" The words pour out of me without thought, without filter, while his seed pours INTO me: rope after rope of marsh-warrior cum that's probably swimming with enough potent sperm to knock up the entire female population of Eboncrest. I can feel it POOLING in my womb, feel the weight of it settling in my belly like I've swallowed a cup of warm honey except it's in the WRONG hole, the hole that makes babies, the hole that used to not exist when I had a cock- He pulls out. The wet SQUELCH my pussy makes trying to hold him is obscene. Then my gaping hole is OPEN to the air, twitching and grasping at nothing while his cum starts to GLORP out in thick white ropes that connect my pussy to the burlap for a second before breaking. I'm still cumming, still shaking, when the next warrior drops between my legs.(simple_option:"04 1 gangbang","This one doesn't speak. Just rams in.")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")His teeth close around my nipple and the world goes WHITE. From EVERYTHING, all at once. The lotus smoke saturating my lungs, the cock SLAMMING my deflowered pussy into submission, the sensation of being WATCHED by thirty warriors who see me as nothing but a collection of holes to fill. It all crashes together into a wave that threatens to sweep away everything I ever was. *Elara's face. Her autumn hair spilling across our pillow. The way she laughed when I-* "HNNNNNNNNNGHHH-AH-AH-AH-FFFUCK-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/arch back.jpg") The chieftain's hips SLAM forward one final time and I feel him swell inside me, feel his cock-head FLARE against my battered cervix like it's trying to pry its way into my womb, and then- The first rope of his seed hits my cervix like a punch from the inside.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:1500,0.60),(a:3000,0.65),(a:4500,0.68),(a:6000,0.70),(a:7500,0.72),(a:9000,0.70),(a:10500,0.66),(a:12000,0.60),(a:14000,0.50),(a:16000,0.40),(a:18000,0.30),(a:20000,0.20),(a:22000,0.12),(a:24000,0)))) Hot. So fucking HOT. Like he's pissing lava directly into my baby-chamber, each pulse SCALDING my walls, painting my insides with thick tribal cum that I can FEEL pooling against my deepest barrier. "GHAAAA-OH-OH FUCK-OH FUCKING-HRRRNNNNGGGHH-" My back arches so hard I feel vertebrae pop. My tits SLAM together from the force of the convulsion, nipple-to-nipple with a wet PLAP of sweat-slicked skin. "Feel that?" His voice is a growl against my throat where he's bitten a mark that'll bruise purple by morning. "That's chieftain-seed flooding your spawn-chamber. SEVEN generations of marsh-blood being pumped into your pale belly." I can't respond with words. My mouth makes sounds: "UNNH-UHH-UHHH-UHH-FUHHH-FUHHH." But they're not LANGUAGE anymore. They're just the noise a body makes when it's being BRED for the first time by a man who sees it as breeding-stock. Somewhere deep inside, beneath the lotus-fog and the cock-stretch and the horrifying PLEASURE, a cold hard knot remains. *I am Aldric. I was Aldric. This body is not ME. They can fill this vessel with seed but they cannot touch what's INSIDE.* *I just have to survive this. Survive them. Get back to Elara.* He stays buried while his cock softens, keeping every drop of his seed trapped inside me. When he finally pulls out, the sound is OBSCENE: a wet SCHLORRRRP followed by a GUSH as his cum starts immediately leaking from my gaped hole. "First planting complete." He rises, his softening cock swinging heavy and slick with our mixed fluids. "The tribute is OPENED. Who claims second right?"(simple_option:"04 1 gangbang","This is far from over.")]

($play:"sex loop",'gangbang')(if:$choice is "This is far from over.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")A veteran with scars like white snakes across his chest steps forward, already stroking himself hard. *I can do this. I can SURVIVE this. Just let them use the body while I protect what matters.* I force my shaking legs wider. Reach up with trembling hands to cup my own breasts-PRESENT them-the way a whore would. The movement makes fresh cum GLORP out of my pussy to pool on the burlap. "Please," I make myself say, voice wrecked and breathy. "Use me. Fill me. I'm-I'm here for the tribe's pleasure." If they think I'm BROKEN, they'll be gentler. And every moment of gentleness is a moment my mind stays intact. The veteran grins, showing teeth filed to points. "Listen to the fuck-hole BEG. The green-filth trained this one well." (display:"divider") (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/dominated.jpg") "GHHH-AAHH-AAAHHHH!" The chieftain's seed provides horrifying lubrication: thick and hot and ALIVE between my pussy walls and the veteran's different cock.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.45,"peakTo",0.58,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",42,"releaseMs",75,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.10)) I can feel the cum being DISPLACED, forced deeper by the new invasion, and the veteran's shape is WRONG after the chieftain: thicker at the base, a different curve that scrapes new places while the chieftain's seed squelches around him like warm egg-whites being beaten, frothing into cream that bubbles out with each thrust. My pussy is already learning a second shape, molding to accommodate this one the way it molded to the first, and the realization that I'm becoming a FITTING ROOM for tribal cock makes me- *SCHLOP-SCHLOP-SCHLOP-SCHLOP* *CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP* Two rhythms: his cock punching my pussy, and my ass-cheeks applauding his efforts like enthusiastic spectators. "L-listen to-UNNH-listen to my-FUCK-DRUMS-" I gasp out, remembering their terminology, trying to ENGAGE, to prove I'm willing. "-playing a-AH-AH-war-beat-for you-" "She fucking LEARNS." He grabs my hair, wraps it around his fist like a rein, YANKS my head back until I'm staring at the smoke-hazed canopy. "What else do you know, tribute-meat?" "My-my GRIP-SLIT-" Each word bounces with his thrusts. "-is-UNNH-meant for-marsh-cock-my-SPAWN-CHAMBER-wants-AHHH-your-seed-" *Keep talking. Keep performing. Don't let them see the real you.* (display:"divider") (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/orgasm.jpg","right")"NNNNGGGHHH-FUCK-FUCKING-GHAAAAAA-"(playwhenread:"elise squirt",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:350,0.58),(a:700,0.68),(a:1050,0.52),(a:1400,0.62),(a:1750,0.46),(a:2100,0.55),(a:2450,0.38),(a:2800,0.45),(a:3150,0.30),(a:3500,0.35),(a:3850,0.22),(a:4200,0.28),(a:4550,0.14),(a:4900,0)))) I cum on his cock. HARD. My pussy clamps down like a vice and I feel myself SQUIRT around his shaft, the spray hitting my own thighs and the burlap beneath us with a sound like pissing rain. "THE TRIBUTE-MEAT IS JUICING AGAIN!" someone calls from the watching crowd, and laughter ripples through the smoke. *It's just the body. Just the lotus. Not ME. I'm still HERE.* (display:"divider") (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/chieftan creampie.jpg") More seed flooding my already-overflowing womb, mixing with the chieftain's cum to create this thick tribal cocktail that's probably already swimming toward my eggs. When he pulls out, a ROPE of combined seed stretches from his cock to my gaping hole before snapping to SPLAT across my ass-cheek. "Next." (display:"divider") (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/gangbang.jpg","left")*Up, down. Suck. Clench. Breathe through the nose. Don't bite. Up, down. Don't think about what this means. Up, down. Think about Elara. Think about getting HOME.* "HRRRK-HRRRK-GAWK-"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.44,"baseFrom",0.18,"baseTo",0.16,"intervalFrom",550,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",42,"sustainMs",72,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10)) His cock hits the back of my throat and my gag reflex FIRES: the muscles clench around his shaft in violent protest, which apparently feels GOOD to him because he groans and pushes DEEPER. My throat stretches around him like a second pussy, and I can feel every bump and ridge through the thin tissue, can feel my own PULSE beating against his cock where it presses my carotid. My eyes stream. Snot runs from my nose. My hair is wrapped around his fist and he's using it like a HANDLE to fuck my skull. "-GLORRRRK-" "She's DROOLING like a bitch in heat! Look at this pale fuck-doll!" The one behind me is pounding with young-man enthusiasm, no rhythm, and my tits are swinging so hard they're HURTING from the momentum, heavy flesh flying back and forth like fleshy sacks. *SCHLOP-SCHLOP-SCHLOP-SCHLOP* *THWACK-THWACK-THWACK-THWACK* *GLUK-GLUK-GLUK-GLUK* "TAKE IT-TAKE MY SEED IN YOUR GULP-TUBE-HNNNNGGHHHH-" He BLASTS down my throat.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:500,0.46),(a:1000,0.50),(a:1500,0.52),(a:2000,0.48),(a:2500,0.44),(a:3000,0.38),(a:3500,0.30),(a:4000,0.22),(a:4500,0.14),(a:5000,0)))) The first rope bypasses my mouth entirely. Lands directly in my gullet, HOT and thick, and my throat does the rest by reflex, swallowing around his cock in convulsions I can't control. *Gulp-gulp-gulp-gulp*. Each swallow SQUEEZES his shaft, milking out more, and I can track the cum's journey: a hot, heavy slug sliding down my esophagus, pooling in my stomach with a warmth that spreads outward like drinking mulled wine on the wrong end. He holds my head in place and PUMPS more in. Now I'm tasting it: bitter-salt-musk with a thickness that coats my tongue like rendered fat. "GWLLK-GWLLK-GWLLK-" When he finally pulls out, strings of cum and saliva connect us for a moment before snapping. (display:"divider") (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/titfuck.jpg","left")($play:"sex loop","gangbang")($play:"song","gangbang music")I cup my own breasts, these fucking WEIGHTS that I still can't believe are attached to my chest, and lift them, press them together, creating a channel of soft flesh. My pale skin is STREAKED with cum now, glistening, and when I look down I can see that earlier loads have pooled in my cleavage. "Please," I make myself say, "use my-my GRIP-MEAT-" He straddles my torso and SHOVES his cock between my tits.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.26,"peakTo",0.38,"baseFrom",0.14,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",700,"intervalTo",480,"attackMs",75,"sustainMs",50,"releaseMs",95,"rampBeats",18,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.18,"depthJitter",0.06)) The shaft slides through my cleavage and I feel it on BOTH SIDES: his heat radiating through breast-flesh from left and right simultaneously, like holding a hot pipe between two pillows. Leftover cum provides lube, SQUELCHING obscenely in the canal he's made of me. "TIGHTER." He grabs my hands, FORCES me to squeeze harder. "Make those wobble-weights GRIP." I compress until I can feel his heartbeat through my own flesh: a pulse on each side, left-tit and right-tit receiving his rhythm like two ears pressed to the same drum. He starts THRUSTING. Each push makes the head of his cock emerge from my cleavage toward my face, drooling precum that drips onto my chin, before retreating into the soft prison of my breasts. The lotus is making every inch of my skin feel like it's made of nerve endings, so even THIS is somehow building heat in my core- "Look at this pale fuck-hole SERVING." Another warrior has stepped up beside my head. His cock, hard, DARK, dripping, hovers beside my cheek. "Open that noise-hole." (display:"divider") "Grab her milk-bags!" someone instructs. "Use them as HANDLES!" His hands find my tits and SQUEEZE: too hard, inexperienced, PAWING at them like he's kneading dough. My nipples are so sensitive from the lotus smoke that even his clumsy groping sends lightning to my clit: "NNNNH! CAREFUL! They're-they're sensitive-" "She's TALKING TO ME!" The boy sounds thrilled. "The tribute-meat is giving me ADVICE!" "Then make her STOP talking!" The veteran who just fucked me steps forward, his cum-slicked cock still hard, and SLAPS it across my face. "Open that noise-hole, meat. Time to clean the cock that just bred you." (display:"divider") A warrior with filed teeth BITES my neck while he pounds me, his balls slapping my ass with rhythmic *THWACK-THWACK-THWACK* sounds, and when he cums I count the pulses: *seven*. Counting is something to DO, something to keep the real me anchored. (display:"divider") On my side: the drake-rider Vash'ti watches from the platform's edge while a veteran SPOONS me, one leg thrown over his hip, his cock churning the cum-soup my pussy has become. She doesn't participate but she COMMENTS: "Her grip-slit is getting LOOSER. Five more cocks and she'll be properly trained." (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/all sides.jpg","'Five more cocks and she'll be properly trained.'") (display:"divider") On my back with my legs pushed to my shoulders: another young hunter SHAKES as he loses his virginity inside me, cumming in under a minute, apologizing to the laughing crowd while his seed adds to the reservoir. (display:"divider") "The tribute-meat came AGAIN." Commentary from the watching women. "That's the twelfth time. The collar-whores truly are cock-hungry." *I'm NOT cock-hungry. The lotus is-the body is-I'm not-* "NNNNGHHHH-FUCK-FUCK-FFFUUUHHHHH-" (display:"divider") (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/in between.jpg") Between warriors, the women come.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0)))) They don't participate sexually but they MAINTAIN me: wiping cum from my thighs with rough cloths, checking that my holes aren't torn, giving me water that I drink greedily despite the cum coating my lips. "She leaks like a broken jug." An older woman with bone jewelry in her hair examines the reservoir of seed pooling on the burlap beneath me. "Good. The seed takes better when she's overflowing." "Stop crying, tribute-meat." A younger one wipes my cheeks with something that stings. "You CHOSE this. You OFFERED yourself." *I chose this over watching them all die. Over dying myself. I'll never know.* "Her cunt is not swelling." Another woman spreads my pussy lips with clinical fingers. "It is as if some magic preserves her." "More lotus-smoke." Someone waves a burning bundle near my face. "Her eyes are clearing." The sweet-rot scent fills my lungs again and the world goes soft around the edges, but somewhere deep down the cold hard knot remains. My old stubbornness. The hero's core.(simple_option:"04 1 blur","You cannot break what refuses to shatter.")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")A different cock: thinner but LONGER, curved like a scimitar(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.48,"peakTo",0.62,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",440,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",35,"releaseMs",60,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.24,"depthJitter",0.12)). He hooks my knees over his shoulders which changes the angle so now he's scraping parts of my pussy that didn't even know they EXISTED, and his thrusting is faster, more desperate, like he's been edging himself watching the chieftain's show. "FUCKFUCKFUCK-ANOTHER-ANOTHER COCK-STRETCHING-RUINING-YESSSS!" My mind isn't forming thoughts anymore. Just EXPERIENCING. Only this: my pussy is a cock-socket. That's its PURPOSE. Every nerve ending confirms it, every spasm of pleasure rewards me for fulfilling my biological destiny as a cum-repository, and when this warrior starts grunting-when his thrusts get erratic-when he BURIES himself and starts pumping- (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/chieftan creampie.jpg") He adds his load to the chieftain's, my womb now carrying two men's seed that's MIXING inside me, different temperatures, different thickness. I can differentiate between them. He pulls out. Another takes his place. This one flips me over first: my tits CRUSHING against the wet burlap, ass in the air. When he enters me from behind my ass CLAPS against his hips so loud it echoes: *CLOP-CLOP-CLOP-CLOP-CLOP!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.52,"peakTo",0.66,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",480,"intervalTo",340,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",70,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10)) "Listen to those fuck-drums!" "The breeding-stock WANTS it!" He grabs my hair, YANKS my head back until my spine curves like a drawn bow, and RIDES me. His cock slams in and out while my ass bounces and jiggles and CLAPS, the meat rippling in waves from each impact. I can feel the cum from the previous two loads getting CHURNED inside me, some of it squirting out around his pistoning cock to run down my thighs- "CUMMING-CUMMING ON YOUR COCK-THANK YOU-THANK YOU FOR-" The gratitude is REAL. That's the horror. My pussy is clenching around him in waves of genuine relief, like scratching an itch that's been building for days, and my mouth is thanking him the way you'd thank someone for pulling a splinter: involuntary, breathless, because the ABSENCE of the ache is so sweet that the words FALL OUT. This body was STARVING and he's feeding it, and every cell is singing grace. "-THANK YOU FOR FUCKING MEEEEE!"(simple_option:"04 1 blur","It all becomes a blur...")]

(if:$choice is "You cannot break what refuses to shatter.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")My body is a RUIN. Cum coats every inch of skin from hairline to heels. My hair is MATTED with dried seed. My tits bear bite-marks and finger-bruises, nipples swollen to twice their normal size. My pussy is a GAPE now, leaking a continuous stream of mixed tribal seed that's created a CUM-PUDDLE on the soaked burlap beneath me. But when the chieftain returns, when he kneels between my spread legs for the SECOND time, I look up at him with eyes that are tired but not BROKEN. "You've served well, tribute-meat." His cock is hard again. "Twenty-three of my warriors have planted in your spawn-chamber." "T-twenty-" My voice is wrecked, ragged, cum-hoarse. "-twenty-three-" "And now I take final right." He pushes in and I barely feel the stretch anymore-too loose, too flooded-but I make myself CLENCH, make myself perform. "The first and last seed. To SEAL the claiming." *Just one more. One more load. Then it's over. Then I go back to Snib and Elara and-* He fucks me slow this time. Almost... tender. His hand rests on my belly, which has gone SOFT and slightly distended from the sheer VOLUME of cum pumped into my womb. "When I finish," he continues, his thrusts speeding up, "the Kharath is SETTLED. You have my word. The green-filth's territory will be unmolested. Your... sacrifice... has meaning." *It worked. It WORKED. Snib is safe. Elara is safe.* "But." His grip tightens on my hip. "You'll remain here for three more days." *What?* "To ensure the PLANTING takes. Twenty-four marsh-bloods have seeded you: we need time to confirm the spawn caught." He's fucking harder now, his balls slapping my cum-soaked ass. "And tribute-meat doesn't take goblin-cock once she's been properly BRED. The seed must be PURE. You'll return to your master only to collect the green-filth's agreement, then you bring the child to us when it's born." *A child. THEIR child. Growing in-* "HHHNNNNNNGGGHHHHH-" He SLAMS deep and I feel his cock swell and then- The final load. Sealing the covenant. Flooding my already-overflowing womb with chieftain-seed while my traitorous body CLENCHES around him in one last orgasm that I can't stop even though I WANT to- "AHHHH-FUCK-FUCKING-GHHAAAAAAA-" When he pulls out, he catches some of the backflow in his palm and SMEARS it across my belly. "Planted," he announces to the remaining watchers. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/aftermath.jpg") (simple_option:"04 1 bound","That night...")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")"These milk-bladders haven't been properly used yet." He's on his back, making me RIDE him, but his hands are on my tits, MAULING them, squeezing so hard the flesh bulges between his fingers like dough. Every time I bounce, every time I IMPALE myself on his cock because he's making me do the work, they SWING and SLAP and JIGGLE, and he's sucking one nipple while twisting the other, alternating, until both are so swollen they look like purple berries and even the AIR hurts them- "GONNA CUM FROM MY TITS-" *Is that possible?* It is. I do. Pussy clenching on his cock just from the tit-torture while he laughs and BITES, and when he cums it's while sucking so hard on my left nipple I swear he's trying to DRINK his own cum through my body- (display:"divider") They don't wait turns. One underneath: I'm impaled, gravity driving me DOWN onto his cock. One behind: hands spreading my ass cheeks, cock pressing against my asshole that's never been touched, pressing, pressing, pressing until- *POP!* "AAAAIIIIIEEEEEE!" He's in, and the sensation of two cocks RUBBING against each other through the thin wall between my holes is something my brain cannot process.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.55,"amplitude",0.15,"periodMs",800,"forever",true)) I feel them both: pussy-cock pushing LEFT while ass-cock drags RIGHT. The friction between them travels through my own tissue like they're SAWING me in half from inside. Every thrust from one makes the other feel BIGGER. The THIRD one grabs my hair, so matted with cum now it holds shape when he twists it, and feeds his cock into my screaming mouth. Suddenly every hole is PLUGGED. I'm a junction-box, a meeting-place of meat, sealed at every opening, and when all three thrust at once my entire body COMPRESSES between them like dough being kneaded from three directions. They cum at different times. The ass one first: *SPLURT-SPLURT*, hot enough to make my eyes water. Then the mouth one, forcing me to SWALLOW while still getting pounded. The pussy one last, adding another load to the mixture already simmering in my womb. (display:"divider") "FACE DOWN. ASS UP."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0)))) Hands SLAM my shoulders into the soaked burlap while other hands LIFT my hips, and suddenly I'm presenting like a bitch in heat, spine curved, massive ass pointing at the smoke-hazed ceiling. I can FEEL how I look: pussy lips GAPING open from the abuse, cum DROOLING out in thick ropes that stretch toward the floor like obscene stalactites. The warrior behind me doesn't even AIM. Just RAMS forward and his cock SINKS into my ruined hole with this *GLLLLOOOORRRRPPP* sound, sliding through three loads of previous cum that squelches out around his shaft in frothy white rings, and then his hips connect with my ass: *CLOP!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.55,"peakTo",0.68,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",340,"attackMs",32,"sustainMs",42,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10)) The impact enters through my cheeks and travels INWARD. I feel the shockwave pass through the fat, through the muscle underneath, all the way to my PELVIS where it makes his cock shift inside me. Then the flesh REBOUNDS, the cheeks slamming back together a half-second after the hit like meaty applause. Each wobble shifts the angle of his cock minutely, so even after the thrust is done my insides are still being STIRRED by the aftershocks of my own jiggling ass, and when he pulls back for another stroke I can feel the shockwave RETURNING, the meat settling back into place just in time for: *CLOP-CLOP-CLOP-CLOP-CLOP!* "The tribute-meat's ass makes music!" Someone's laughing. "AHHHH-AH-AH-AH-AH-YESSSS-CLAP MY FAT ASS-" "It SPEAKS while getting bred!" Vash'ti's voice cuts through the fuck-haze, mocking. "The collar-whore NARRATES her own ruining!" She's RIGHT. I can't stop TALKING, can't stop announcing what's happening to me like some demented bard chronicling my own ruin: "STRETCHING-SO DEEP-HITTING MY WOMB-GONNA MAKE ME CUM WITH YOUR COCK IN MY GUTSSSS!" His balls are SWINGING forward with each thrust to *THWAP* against my oversensitized clit, and every impact sends lightning up my spine while his cock CHURNS the cum-slurry inside me into FOAM. I can hear it: this wet *SQUELCH-GLORP-SQUELCH* that sounds like someone stirring porridge, except the porridge is WARRIOR SEED and the spoon is COCK- "CUMMING-CUMMING ON YOUR COCK-THANK YOU THANK YOU THANNNNNGHK!" The orgasm TEARS through me and my pussy CLAMPS so hard he GRUNTS, his rhythm faltering, and then he's adding HIS load to the others. I've lost count, is this five? Six? He pumps it deep while my cunt milks him like it was DESIGNED for this purpose, which maybe it WAS, maybe the collar BUILT me to be a cum-receptacle for anyone except goblin- He pulls out. A GUSH of mixed seed pours from my gaping hole, splashing onto the already-soaked burlap, thick and clotted with chunks. I don't want to think about what they might be. Before I can process the emptiness, another cock is PRESSING against my asshole again. "The seed-trench is overcrowded," the warrior observes. "Time to plant in different soil." "WAIT-I'M STILL-STILL C-AIIIIEEEEEE!" (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/double teamed.jpg") He doesn't wait. He SHEATHES himself in my ass with one brutal thrust, no warning, no mercy, and my back-hole stretches around him with this wet *SCHLORP* that shouldn't be possible, wouldn't be possible if the previous ass-thrakker hadn't already broken me in- "FFFFUUUUCK MY ASSSSS! BREED MY BACK-HOLE!" *Where are these WORDS coming from?* (display:"divider"). "The milk-bladders," someone says. "Time to put them to work." Hands grip my tits from either side: two warriors, one per breast. They LIFT, pressing them together into a tunnel of pale, sweat-slick cleavage that a third warrior immediately STRADDLES, his balls resting on my solar plexus as his cock slides into the flesh-channel they've created. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/titfuck.jpg","right")"HNNNGH-FUCK MY TITS-USE MY UDDERS-" My chest gets treated like another hole, the friction of his shaft rasping against skin that's never been used this way. I have to WATCH, have to watch his cock emerge from between my pushed-together tits, the purple head appearing inches from my face before disappearing again into the valley of my cleavage- *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK.* "Stick out your tongue, tribute-meat." I obey. My tongue extends, waiting, and when his cockhead emerges from my tit-tunnel I can TASTE the sweat and my own titty-smell on it, can feel the heat radiating from his piss-slit as it approaches my open mouth- He speeds up. The men squeezing my tits ADJUST, pressing harder, creating more friction, and my breasts are being USED as a FUCK-HOLE. It's doing something to my pussy: making it CLENCH on nothing, making more cum GLORP out to pool beneath my ass- "GONNA CUM FROM GETTING MY TITS FUCKED-" "She CAN'T stop announcing!" Vash'ti again, delighted by my debasement. "Like a market-crier selling her own holes!" The titfuck-warrior's rhythm goes ragged. His balls draw up where they're resting on my stomach. And when he cums- It's directly onto my face: ropes of thick, clotted marsh-seed splattering across my nose, my cheeks, into my open mouth, one rope somehow getting INTO MY EYE so I'm half-blinded and STILL opening my mouth for more- "THANK YOU! THANK YOU FOR CUMMING ON MY FACE!" He dismounts. Another takes his place. This one wants my mouth INVOLVED: wants me to crane my neck forward and suck his cockhead every time it emerges, wants me to DROOL on it to add lubrication. The position is IMPOSSIBLE, straining my neck, making my abs burn, but I DO it, I fucking DO it because I'm nothing now but a collection of holes and soft-places designed to make men cum- (display:"divider") (sperm:"SPLURT!",2,"splurt 1") On my tits. (sperm:"GLORRRP!",3,"splurt 3 internal") In my ass. (sperm:"SPLASH!",2,"splurt 2") Across my face. (sperm:"SQUELCH!",3,"splurt 1 internal") Deep in my pussy. I've lost track of everything except the RHYTHM of being used. Warriors cycle through me like I'm a public well: drinking, drinking, never dry. My body has become something OTHER, something that exists only to receive and respond. "HNNNNGH-FUCK-ANOTHER ONE-CUMMING AGAIN-"($play:'sex loop','gangbang')(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.50,"amplitude",0.18,"periodMs",1200,"forever",true)) My orgasms have become CONTINUOUS, rolling one into the next like waves on a shore, my pussy spasming every time a new cock enters, my nipples shooting pleasure straight to my clit whenever they're pinched or bitten, my ass clenching around whatever's inside it- "The tribute-meat has ACCEPTED her place." The chieftain's voice cuts through my fuck-fog. He's watching from somewhere nearby, his cock hard again despite having already bred me twice. "She came to negotiate. She leaves as breeding-stock." "YESSSSS-" I'm nodding, AGREEING, words pouring from me like the cum pouring from my holes. "I'M BREEDING-STOCK! I'M YOUR FUCK-DOT! I'M COCK-SOCKET! HOLE-MEAT! THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!" "The Kheth-Muur accepts the tribute." His voice is FORMAL now, ritualistic. "We will not trouble your master's territory." Somewhere in the cock-drunk fog of my consciousness, I register that this means-means- *I did it. I saved Snib's territory. I saved-*(simple_option:"04 1 pull out","They all pull out.")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0))))Every cock exits my body with wet *squelch-pop* sounds, leaving my holes GAPING, still twitching and seeking, cum GUSHING from my ruined pussy and abused ass in thick rivers that pool beneath me on the burlap. The warriors form a CIRCLE. I'm in the center, on my knees because I can't STAND, tits swinging heavy below me, face and hair already plastered with cum, and they're all STROKING: a dozen fists working a dozen cocks, all pointed at ME- "Open your mouth, tribute-meat." (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/bukkake.jpg") I open. Tongue out. Eyes up. The good little fuck-doll they've MADE me into. The first one aims for my face. Ropes of seed splatter across my forehead, striping through my black hair in thick white lines. The second hits my tits. It coats the heaving mounds until they GLISTEN, the cum sliding down into my cleavage to pool in the valley between. The third finds my open mouth-I TASTE it, hold it on my tongue, SHOW them before swallowing with an exaggerated *gulp*. "THANK YOU," I gasp between loads. "THANK YOU FOR MARKING ME-" My cheek. "-THANK YOU FOR BREEDING MY WORTHLESS HOLES-" My neck and collarbone. "-THANK YOU FOR TEACHING ME WHAT I AM-" Multiple warriors cumming SIMULTANEOUSLY, the ropes criss-crossing on my tits, my stomach, running down to add to the cum-swamp between my thighs. The chieftain steps forward. His cock is inches from my face, harder than iron, the head BLOATED with his final load. "One last time, tribute-meat." "I'M A CUMDUMP!" The words EXPLODE from me with religious fervor. "I'M HOLE-MEAT! COCK-SOCKET! BREEDING-STOCK! MY BODY EXISTS TO SERVE YOUR COCK AND SWALLOW YOUR SEED AND-" He CUMS. Directly into my open, confessing mouth.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:500,0.50),(a:1000,0.55),(a:1500,0.58),(a:2000,0.55),(a:2500,0.50),(a:3000,0.44),(a:3500,0.36),(a:4000,0.28),(a:4500,0.20),(a:5000,0.12),(a:5500,0)))) Thick and endless, filling my mouth until it OVERFLOWS down my chin. I'm SWALLOWING, DRINKING, letting his seed coat my throat and settle in my stomach to join the loads I've already gulped down, and when he finally stops I hold my mouth open, show him the pool of sperm coating my tongue, and SWALLOW with a performance-level *GLULP*. "Good." He pats my cum-soaked head. "You've earned your rest... for the night." I collapse forward into my own puddle of cum and sweat, cheek pressing into the soaked burlap, ass still twitching in the air, every hole leaking, every inch of skin GLAZED- *For the night. They're going to do this AGAIN.* The thought should horrify me. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/aftermath.jpg") (simple_option:"04 1 bound","They bind you after.")

(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/bound.jpg")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/5.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",3000,"forever",true)) The rope creaks above me with each shallow breath I take. I hang like butchered meat from the breeding platform's central beam: wrists bound behind my back, shoulders screaming from the angle, spine arched in a way that makes my tits jut forward and *down*. They're so thrakking heavy like this. Every tiny movement makes them sway: these massive pale udders streaked with drying cum, nipples swollen to the size of copper coins from hours of sucking and pinching and *biting*. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/suspended.gif","right")"Haaahh... haahhh..." Each exhale pushes past the leather strap between my teeth. Drool runs down my chin in a constant stream, mixing with the crusted seed that's turned my face into a glazed mask. My jaw aches from being held open. My tongue tastes nothing but cum. The lotus smoke still coils through my brain like honey through water, making everything feel distant and close at the same time. It makes the warm trickle of sperm that's *still* oozing from my gaping cunt feel... pleasant. A constant drip-drip-drip onto the platform below me, adding to the puddle that's been growing for-how long? Hours? My thighs are painted white from hip to knee, my pussy lips swollen and tender and *open*, unable to close properly after taking so many- I don't want to *think* about the number of loads they pumped into me. I counted at first, when I still thought counting might help me hold onto something. *Pregnant*, my brain supplies hazily. *Definitely pregnant. Some marsh-warrior's baby already taking root in this womb that shouldn't exist.* I hang here, revolving slowly on my rope. The collar pulses warm against my throat. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/bound face.jpg") "Mmmphh..." Below me, guards laugh at something. The celebration continues: drums beating, voices raised in victory songs about the pale-meat who took the whole warband. About their new migratory trajectory. They're not even watching me anymore. Just a decoration now. A cum-dripping trophy.(simple_option:"04 rescue","Something splashes in the water below.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")My eye, the one that isn't crusted shut with dried cum, tries to focus downward through the gaps in the platform. Just darkness and the occasional glint of torchlight on black water. Another splash. Closer. The rope holding me suddenly *lurches*. "MMMPH!?" My body drops three inches before jerking to a stop, my tits bouncing so hard they *SLAP* against each other. What the- The rope lurches again. Lower this time. My feet are almost touching the platform now, though my arms are still wrenched behind me, and through the leather gag I try to scream but it comes out as just- "MMMMNNNNGGGHHHH!" Another drop. Another. The rope is being *released* from below, not cut, but loosened from its anchor down on the swamp floor. My knees hit the platform first, then I'm collapsing forward, suspended weight suddenly released, face-planting into the puddle of my own drippings with a wet *SPLAT*. *Crack.* The platform shudders. Something LARGE has just pulled itself up from below, something that makes the whole structure groan. I force my cum-sticky eye open and see- Grey legs. Four of them. Steam rising from wet hide. Jarkrond.(simple_option:"04 jarkrond saves","He came for you!")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")The horse's amber eyes glow in the darkness as he approaches my collapsed form. I'm trying to speak through the gag, trying to say *something*, but all that comes out is this pathetic "Mmmph-mmmph" while fresh cum oozes from my pussy onto the platform. His teeth close on the leather between my wrists. The binding parts like paper. Ash-runner jaws are made for crushing bone. My arms fall free and I nearly scream from the pain of blood rushing back into them, pins and needles racing from shoulder to fingertip. I reach up with shaking hands, fumble with the gag's buckle behind my head. It takes three tries; my fingers are numb, clumsy, sticky with dried cum and my own drool. When it finally falls away, I gasp- "Jarkrond-you-*how*-" The guards have heard the platform groan. Footsteps pounding toward us across the rope-bridge. Jarkrond's muzzle rams my waist and simply *lifts*. I'm thrown across his back like a saddlebag, belly-down, my tits dangling on one side and my ass on the other, cum still dripping from my swollen pussy as he MOVES. "HEY! THE TRIBUTE!" The platform *shudders* as Jarkrond launches himself toward the edge. I have one heartbeat to realize what he's planning- "WAIT-NO-JARKROND DON'T-" He jumps. Thirty-five feet down. Into black water. My scream cuts off the moment we hit: *SPLOOOSH*. Suddenly I'm underwater, salt and rot flooding my nose, hands scrabbling for something to grip as the horse's massive body plunges beneath me. The cold is SHOCKING after the breeding platform's humid heat.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:200,0.25),(a:500,0.15),(a:800,0.08),(a:1200,0)))) It punches through the lotus-haze like a fist through cobwebs. I surface gasping, clinging to Jarkrond's mane as he churns through the murk. His hooves find purchase on something, a submerged root, maybe, and he SURGES forward, dragging me through water that comes up to his chest. "SHE'S IN THE WATER! On the GREEN-FILTH HORSE!" Torches appear above us. Warriors leaning over platform edges, whooping with sudden excitement. Someone throws a spear-it splashes three feet to our left. "GO! GO GO GO-" Jarkrond doesn't need my encouragement. He's swimming now, his powerful legs churning, his neck stretched forward like an arrow seeking its target. I'm clinging to his back with my thighs clamped around his barrel, my tits *SLAPPING* against his hide with each surge, cold water washing over my abused body and carrying away-oh *gods*-carrying away so much *cum*. "*HAHAHAHA!*" The laughter echoes across the marsh. Another spear splashes nearby, but it's a testing throw, not a killing one. "RUN, PALE-MEAT!" someone calls. "KEEP THAT PUSSY WARM FOR NEXT TIME!" "SHE EARNED HER FREEDOM-LET HER WORK FOR IT!" Jarkrond finds footing again: a sandbar, a drowned road, I don't know. Suddenly he's RUNNING.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.22,"peakTo",0.30,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",450,"intervalTo",450,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",20,"releaseMs",40,"rampBeats",4,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.12,"depthJitter",0.06)) Water explodes around us as he transitions from swim to gallop in three thundering strides. My body bounces on his back like a ragdoll, my tits *WHAP-WHAP-WHAPPING* against his flanks so hard I'll have bruises. "Ah! AH!-fuck-AH!" Behind us: more laughter, cheers. The tribe is ENJOYING this: a proper hunt, a sporting escape. The Kharath has been paid in flesh. My mission for Snib is still done. The territory agreement stands. This chase is an enjoyable *bonus* for them. Jarkrond veers into a narrow channel between dead trees. Bone-moss slaps my face. My legs are too weak to grip properly and I'm sliding-sliding-*THRACK*- His teeth catch my wrist. Holding me. Dragging me back into position while still running, his hooves finding impossible purchase on submerged logs and mud-slicks that should send us both tumbling. He must have scouted the marshes while I was being fucked. "You planned this," I gasp into his mane. He tosses his head, a clear *shut up and hold on*. Another channel. This one narrows until branches scrape both sides. Then opens into- Desert sand. The boundary. We've reached the edge of the marsh. Jarkrond doesn't slow. If anything he runs HARDER, his hooves transitioning from wet *SPLORTCH* sounds to solid *THUD-THUD-THUD* as we hit dry ground. Behind us, distant but carrying, a farewell... "NEXT TIME, PALE-MEAT! NEXT TIME WE PUT ANOTHER MARSH-BABY IN YOU!" "TELL THE GREEN-FILTH HIS TERRITORY IS SAFE! THE KHETH-MUUR GO NORTH!" "NICE TITS!" That last one makes me *laugh*, a hysterical, exhausted sound that bubbles up from somewhere deep. Jarkrond runs until the marsh is a dark smudge on the horizon. Only then does he slow to a trot, then a walk. I slide off his back, less dismount, more controlled fall, and collapse onto blessed, dry sand.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.20),(a:200,0.10),(a:500,0.04),(a:800,0)))) "We did it," I pant. "We actually-" He swings his head around and gives me a look that clearly says: *WE? I did all the work, tit-cow.* Then, with insulting casualness, he walks over to where my armor and sword lie in a pile (when did he-*of course* he grabbed them), picks up Whisperwind's sheath in his teeth, and drops it on my head. *Get dressed. You look ridiculous.* I've never felt more thoroughly HANDLED by a horse.(simple_option:"04 journey back","Continue back to the hut.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/1.png")(unless:$choice is "Fail Check")[($play:"song","swamp combat")(showhp:)(playwhenread:"sword practice")(if:(get_choice:"03 cut post","Succeed Check"))[Whisperwind *hisses* as I close the distance: three mincing steps that make my ass sway obscenely but cover ground faster than any of them expect. The smoke-blinded warrior swings his spear-butt toward where my head should be. I'm already lower. These ridiculous spike heels force me into a crouch that Aldric's body could never have managed, and the blow passes through empty air while my blade finds the seam between his ribs. The corrupted steel slides through meat like it's *hungry*, scraping against something vital, and when I twist and rip sideways the way seventeen years of muscle memory demands, he opens from sternum to spine in a spray of arterial red. First *kill*. The body hasn't finished falling before I'm moving again.](else:)[My heel catches in the reed-mat and I *lurch* forward like a drunkard, one arm windmilling for balance while my tits describe independent arcs that would be comical if they weren't trying to pull me face-first into the platform. But the smoke-blind warrior can't see this. He's still coughing, still swinging at where I *was*, and my graceless stumble carries me inside his reach before either of us quite realizes what's happening. Whisperwind moves by instinct: Aldric's muscle memory fighting against arms that are too thin, and the corrupted blade catches him across the throat. Shallow. Not immediately fatal. His hands fly to the wound, and I follow with a thrust that my old arms could have driven through chainmail. These arms can barely punch through the leather of his chest-wrap. They don't need to. The blade finds meat, finds something vital, and he goes down with a wet gurgle that sounds like drowning. First blood is mine. *Ephemerals, it worked.*] The remaining warriors hesitate. They expected easy meat. I don't give them time. (playwhenread:"spell_fire_elise") <span class='fire'>"Ignisurge."</span> The word leaves my lips on a breath that tastes of copper and marsh-rot, and fire *blooms* from my outstretched palm: a *wall* that races across the reed-mat flooring in a line that bisects the platform. Three warriors on my side. Two on the other. The flames lick six feet high, hungry and orange, and the screaming starts immediately as one of the warriors catches fire at the shoulder, his fat-matted hair igniting like a torch. "KILL THE WITCH!" The three on my side rush as one. Spears leveled. Teeth bared.(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightblood.png") (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/stab.jpg","right")I meet the first thrust with a parry that sends vibrations shrieking up arms that are too soft for this, but the motion flows into the serpentine hip-rotation I can do now: that grinding, sweeping arc that starts deep in my belly and ripples outward through this pelvis that's set at angles meant for *birthing*, not fighting. The parry becomes a redirect. His spear-point slides past my ribs close enough to kiss skin. My riposte opens his forearm to the bone. He screams. I spin, heels *scraping* against the reed-mat, tits *whipping* around with their own momentum, and the spin carries Whisperwind through a horizontal arc that the second warrior walks directly into. The blade takes him across the belly(unless:$abridged)[, not deep but enough to spill loops of grey-pink intestine that steam in the humid air].(simple_option:"04 vashti approach","Two down.")](else:)["Come then, pale-meat," he grins, teeth filed to points. The warrior who faces me is nothing special. Not the strongest, not the fastest, just another scarred body among dozens. But he has something I don't: a body that *works* the way it's supposed to. I lunge, Whisperwind singing through humid air, and he sidesteps with insulting ease. A casual lean. That's all. My blade whistles past his ribs while his spear-shaft *CRACKS* across my ass hard enough to make the flesh ripple. "Too slow!" He's laughing now. They're ALL laughing. "Those milk-sacks throw you forward!" He's right. These fucking tits have their own momentum, dragging me into overextensions Aldric would never have made. When I try to recover into a defensive stance, my heel catches the reed-mat and I stumble sideways, arms wheeling. *CRACK.*(playwhenread:"spank 1")($play:"song","gangbang music") His spear-butt finds my ass again. The impact sends me lurching(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.58),(a:60,0.38),(a:160,0.26),(a:320,0.16),(a:480,0.08),(a:640,0),"resumeAfter",true))), and now I'm being *herded*: each dodge followed by another stinging blow that drives me toward the platform's edge where warriors lean against their spears and make wagers on how many strikes before I fall. (playwhenread:"spell_wind_elise") <span class='wind'>"Ventusfury!"</span> Wind erupts from my palm, driving smoke from the fire-pit toward his eyes. But he's already moving: these warriors have fought magic-users before. He rolls beneath my gust and comes up *behind* me, spear-shaft cracking across both cheeks in rapid succession. *CRACK-CRACK-CRACK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.62),(a:400,0.60),(a:800,0.65),(a:950,0.42),(a:1100,0.28),(a:1300,0.16),(a:1500,0.06),(a:1700,0)))) "Dance for us, fuck-hole!" I spin with Whisperwind extended, a desperate sweep that should open him from hip to shoulder. He *drops*, going boneless to the mat, and my blade passes through air while my breasts continue their arc, chains jingling. The momentum carries me full-circle and when I stop, dizzy and panting, he's already striking. The spear-shaft catches me behind the knees. I go down *hard*. Reed-mat slams into my palms. My tits swing down and *THWAP* against the platform, the impact making stars burst behind my eyes. This position, on all fours like a bitch waiting to be mounted, sends the warriors into fresh howls. "Look! She presents!" "Twenty bone-tokens says she's dripping already!" I try to rise. His foot plants between my shoulder blades and *shoves*. My arms give out and suddenly I'm face-down, these obscene udders compressed beneath me, ass still raised because my knees won't unlock. "Stay down, meat." The spear-tip traces my spine. Slow. Deliberate. Down between my shoulder blades, along the valley of my lower back, into the cleft between my cheeks where it *taps* against the metal thong. *Tap. Tap. Tap.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:100,0.10),(a:600,0.35),(a:700,0.10),(a:1200,0.35),(a:1300,0.10),(a:1600,0)))) Right against my pussy. The metal is soaked. When did that happen? "Listen to that," he says, and *taps* again, the squishy sound audible even over the crackling fire. "The pale-meat ENJOYS losing." Whisperwind lies ten feet away. I scramble for it, crawling on hands and knees. His foot catches my wrist before I'm halfway there. "Yield." "Never." His weight shifts. The spear-point presses against the base of my skull. "Yield, or I open your spine and let the swamp-rats feast." The collar pulses, but doesn't command. It doesn't seem to care if I die here.(simple_option:"04 2 yield","'...I yield.'")]

($play:"song","gangbang music")($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")"Louder. So all the Kheth-Muur know you're meat for the taking." "I YIELD!" He removes his foot. I stay down, trembling, listening to their laughter. "Keth-ral wins!" someone shouts. "The pale-meat couldn't last sixty heartbeats!" The warrior, Keth-ral, grabs my hair and yanks my head back. His breath is hot against my ear. "By the laws of combat, you're mine to claim first." (display:"divider") (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/breeding platform.jpg","right","The breeding platform rises above the carnage like an altar above a charnel house.")They don't even let me walk. Keth-ral throws me over his shoulder and my world inverts. Blood rushes to my skull. His shoulder-bone digs into my diaphragm like a fist. My tits, freed from any pretense of containment, hang straight down his back like two sacks of warm dough, swinging and SLAPPING his kidneys with each step(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.14,"peakTo",0.18,"baseFrom",0.04,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",700,"intervalTo",700,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",20,"releaseMs",50,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.10,"depthJitter",0.04)) across the rope-bridge. The weight of them pulls at my chest from a direction I've never felt: straight DOWN, stretching skin, dragging at muscle, my nipples pointing at black water thirty-five feet below. My hair hangs too, a black curtain that sticks to his sweaty back, tangling with the leather straps crossing his shoulders. I can feel individual strands catching and pulling at the roots with each bounce. "Feel this?" He calls to the other warriors following us across the rope-bridge. "Soft as drake-belly! The green-filth feeds his cunts well!" Someone reaches up and pulls my metal thong aside. Fingers, not Keth-ral's, someone else's, slide along my slit.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:300,0.18),(a:600,0.28),(a:900,0.34),(a:1100,0.26),(a:1300,0.18),(a:1500,0.10),(a:1700,0),"resumeAfter",true))) "Soaked through! The defeat-juice runs down her thighs!" I'm still trying to process what happened. Sixty heartbeats. That's how long Aldric lasted in the body that used to kill dragons. One warrior. One spear. Sixty heartbeats and three spanks on my jiggling ass and the fight was over: not because he was better than me but because my own TITS threw me off balance, because my own HIPS wouldn't hold a combat stance, because when his spear-butt cracked across my rear I stumbled on heels designed for bedrooms, not battlefields. I lost to my own body more than I lost to him- *CRACK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.70),(a:60,0.46),(a:150,0.34),(a:300,0.40),(a:450,0.26),(a:600,0.30),(a:750,0.16),(a:900,0.20),(a:1100,0.08),(a:1300,0),"resumeAfter",true))) Speaking of which. Keth-ral's free hand has found my upturned rear again, palm connecting with enough force to make the flesh RIPPLE outward in waves I can *feel* traveling through my hips. The warriors following us on the bridge make sounds of appreciation. "Fat like swamp-melon," one calls in heavily-accented Valarian. "Save some for us, Keth! Don't split her open before we get our turn!" Their laughter is wet. *Gurgling*. Everything about these marsh-dwellers sounds like drowning. The platform materializes through bone-moss curtains, a circular space built around a massive dead cypress trunk, white as stripped bone. There are braziers at cardinal points, already lit, already *smoking*. The smell hits me before I see the source: lotus incense, thick and sweet and cloying, mixing with something else- Old sex. *Generations* of it. Soaked into the wood itself. And in the center: a bed. Not rough mats. Not bare planks. An actual *bed*: layered white burlap over what looks like marsh-moss, surprisingly pristine, maintained with something approaching religious dedication. A restraint post rises adjacent to it, eight feet of polished wood with iron rings at various heights, leather straps hanging loose and worn soft from use. Keth-ral dumps me onto it.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:150,0.18),(a:350,0.22),(a:500,0.12),(a:650,0.08),(a:800,0)))) The moss gives beneath my weight with surprising gentleness, and for one disorienting moment the *comfort* of it makes everything worse. This is a *breeding station*. Maintained for one purpose- (simple_option:"04 2 strip","They strip me.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/2.png")"The green-filth's meat always comes pale," another warrior grunts, his own cock jutting from his leather wrap. This one's older: the scarification on his chest forms a second skin of white ridges, and his cock has the same treatment. Raised spiral patterns carved into the flesh itself. My cunt *clenches* at the thought of those ridges dragging against- *No. NO.* (playwhenread:"ass hotdogging")"Strip her." The chieftain's voice carries from his bone-throne, positioned at the platform's edge where he can watch everything. "Let's see what we're breeding." Vash'ti, the female drake-rider, approaches with her obsidian knife. Her bare breasts sway as she moves, brown nipples pierced with bone, and she's looking at me like a butcher examines a carcass. "Hold still, pale-meat." Her Valarian is better than the men's, more precise. "Or I open you in ways you won't enjoy." The blade is so sharp it doesn't even hurt when it nicks my skin. Just a cold kiss against my ribs as she cuts the straps holding my scale-triangles. They *POP* free with a sound like breaking teeth, and my tits- *WHUMP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.38),(a:120,0.24),(a:260,0.30),(a:400,0.16),(a:540,0.22),(a:680,0.10),(a:820,0.14),(a:960,0.06),(a:1100,0.08),(a:1240,0.02),(a:1380,0)))) They DROP. No longer compressed by the armor, they spill out with their own disgusting momentum, each one swinging outward before colliding back together with a wet *SLAP* of sweat-slick flesh. The weight of them pulls my shoulders forward even lying on my back, and I hear the warriors make sounds that are half appreciation, half *hunger*. "Drake-mother's udders!" "Look at those milk-sacks wobble!" "Pale as lotus-flesh-you can see the veins through the skin!" She *YANKS* my thong.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:60,0.40),(a:120,0.48),(a:200,0.30),(a:350,0.18),(a:500,0.10),(a:700,0)))) "AAAHH!" The metal cuts INTO me before snapping of its own volition, the edges dragging across my labia hard enough to leave marks, and suddenly I'm NAKED. Completely naked. Every pale curve of this obscene body lit by brazier-fire, shadows dancing across flesh that shouldn't exist. "Spread her." Hands everywhere. Rough palms grabbing my wrists, my ankles, my THIGHS. My pussy. My fucking *pussy* that's- "Ready as rain," Keth-ral grins, climbing onto the bed between my spread thighs. I'm WET. Soaked. The manhandling... my body has been preparing itself without my permission. When Keth-ral reaches down and slides two fingers along my slit, they come away *glistening*. "Her body knows what it's for, even if her mind resists," he announces to the watching tribe, holding up his wet fingers.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:300,0.18),(a:600,0.28),(a:900,0.22),(a:1200,0.14),(a:1500,0.06),(a:1800,0)))) My tits have fallen to either side of my chest in this position, each one sliding into my armpit with their ridiculous weight, nipples pointing in opposite directions like broken compass needles. When I breathe-and I'm breathing FAST, panicked rabbit-breaths-they wobble. Independent oscillations of flesh that catch every warrior's eye. "First blood in battle." Keth-ral positions himself, and I feel the heat of his cock before it touches me. Radiating warmth like a furnace-heated iron. "First seed in flesh." The head of his cock touches my entrance. *Oh gods.* He doesn't push yet. Just HOLDS there, letting the weight of his cock rest against my opening, letting me FEEL it.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:400,0.18),(a:800,0.26),(a:1200,0.30),(a:1600,0.32),(a:2000,0.30),(a:2400,0.32),(a:2800,0.30)))) "The Kheth-Muur thank you for your donation," he says formally, like this is a fucking ceremony. Maybe it is. "Your womb will carry marsh-blood. Your body will grow our warriors." *I was a hero*, I think desperately. *Now I'm spread-eagle while a stranger prepares to-* (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/insert.jpg")($play:"sex loop",0)He PUSHES.(simple_option:"04 2 deflower","And deflowers you.")($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")($play:"song","gangbang music")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")The first sensation is RESISTANCE. My virgin channel, because that's what it fucking is, virgin, unused, only a few days old, clenches tight, tissue drawn taut like a drumhead. His cockhead presses harder, stretching my entrance into an obscene *O* shape, every micro-movement registering as he applies pressure. "Tight," he grunts. "But wet enough." He pushes HARDER. (playwhenread:"insert",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.75),(a:100,0.55),(a:200,0.62),(a:300,0.48),(a:450,0.42),(a:600,0.38),(a:800,0.36),(a:1000,0.34),(a:1200,0.32))))(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/overwhelmed.jpg") Something inside me TEARS: wet cloth parting along a seam it was always going to split. A hot sting blooms across my entrance and immediately drowns in a wave of FULLNESS- "NNNNGGAAAAHHHH!"(simple_option:"04 fullness","Fullness.")($play:"sex loop",0)

($play:"sex loop","sex loop")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.30,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",900,"forever",true))My channel stretches around him like a glove being forced onto a fist two sizes too large. My walls RIPPLE to accommodate him: individual folds of flesh ironed flat by his advancing cock, each one sending its own specific signal to my brain. My nervous system has no category for this. The sensation of being OPENED, internal space that was sealed shut being CLAIMED inch by inch, my body reshaping itself around an invader in real time. The ridge of his cockhead dragging against walls that have never been touched. The thick veins of his shaft spreading me wider than I knew I could spread. The heat of him like a brand searing my insides. And at the deepest point- "F- FUCK!" -his tip kisses my cervix. My cervix. The entrance to my womb. My thrakking *womb* that shouldn't exist, and he's PRESSING against it, making it *ache*: agony braided with a sweetness that has no right to exist. Keth-ral doesn't move. Just stays BURIED there, his pelvis flush against mine, his dark cock completely sheathed inside my pale body. His pulse throbs through his shaft: THROB-THROB-THROB, each beat making his cock *twitch* against my stretched walls. "There," he breathes, and his face is inches from mine now, bronze skin sheened with sweat, ritual scars catching the brazier-light like white war-paint. "Now you're not a warrior anymore." His words hit me harder than any spell. He's RIGHT. This moment, this cock buried to the root inside me, has changed something fundamental. Whatever I was before, I'm something else now. Something with a man's cock pressed against the entrance to her womb. Something PENETRATED. Something FUCKABLE. "HNNNAAAHHH-haahh-haahhh-" Each breath tears out of me in these pathetic little gasps as Keth-ral holds himself balls-deep, his cock throbbing inside my stretched channel. "Breathes like virgin," Keth-ral grins down at me, his bronze chest glistening with sweat already. "But grips like whore." "Nnnnffff-" "You fought well," he says conversationally, like we're having tea instead of him BURIED in my cunt. "That wind-magic? Almost caught me." He pulls back another inch. The wet SQUELCH echoes off the platform. "But you move like cow with those udders." "F-fuck you-AAAHHH!" He SLAMS back in, his balls making a wet SPLAT against my ass,(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:80,0.52),(a:180,0.60),(a:280,0.44),(a:400,0.36),(a:550,0.28),(a:700,0.22),(a:900,0.18),"resumeAfter",true))) and my tits ROCKET in opposite directions before colliding back together with enough force that it HURTS. "See?" He's laughing now, this young warrior who couldn't best me in real combat but defeated this ridiculous body with ease. "Your tits fight each other more than you fought me!" The other warriors laugh too, that wet, gurgling sound, and Keth-ral starts to MOVE.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.52,"peakTo",0.66,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",560,"intervalTo",400,"attackMs",32,"sustainMs",50,"releaseMs",85,"rampBeats",18,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.08)) Immediate pistoning thrusts that make the entire breeding bed creak. His cock slides out until just the head remains, then PLUNGES back to slam against my cervix. *SCHLICK-SCHLICK-SCHLICK* "Haaahh-haaahhh-st-stop-hnnngh-" "Stop?" He hilts himself particularly deep and GRINDS, his pubic bone mashing my clit. "Your cunt says different, pale-meat." "HNNNGHHH!" My whole body JOLTS. My tits, those massive pale globes that had flopped to either side, WOBBLE violently with the impact, each one jiggling for three full seconds before settling. The wet SLAP of his pelvis hitting mine echoes across the platform. THRUST. "You tried to fight me, and fell on your face." THRUST. "With your fat ass in the air." THRUST. "You're not built for fighting anymore, pale-meat." He releases my tits and they FALL, flopping back to their natural resting state, nipples pointing at the bone-moss canopy above. His hands move to my hips instead, grabbing the soft flesh there, using the curve of my waist to pull me harder onto his cock. "You're built for THIS." THRUST. THRUST. THRUST-THRUST-THRUST.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.60,"peakTo",0.72,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",420,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",68,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.10)) The pace is increasing. The wet sounds are getting LOUDER. My pussy, my fucking PUSSY that I hate, that shouldn't exist, is making noises that sound like someone stirring a pot of thick porridge. *SCHLRP-SCHLRP-SCHLRP*. My body has lubricated itself to obscene levels, welcoming his invasion, FACILITATING it. "She's close," Vash'ti observes clinically from her position beside the bed. "See how her hole flutters? How her belly trembles?" "N-no, I'm not-I won't-" Keth-ral shifts his grip, both hands on my tits now, using them as HANDLES to pull me onto his cock, and the new angle is- "You're going to cum on marsh-cock while the whole tribe watches." He's watching my face now, reading every flicker of thought, ENJOYING my desperate denial. "You're going to cum on the cock of the warrior who SPANKED you like a child during your sad attempt at combat." "HNNNNAAAAAAHHHHH! I won't-" "You WILL." He changes angle. A slight shift of his hips, a small adjustment of where his cock is hitting, and everything is DIFFERENT: a spot inside me lighting up like a festival bonfire, a bundle of nerves that Aldric never knew existed because ALDRIC NEVER HAD THEM. "Haahh-haahh-hnngh-please-please stop-if you don't stop I'll-I'll-" "Look at me," he commands, and my eyes snap to his against my will. Those dark eyes, that bronze face twisted in pleasure as he uses my body. "Look at me when your virgin cunt cums." "I-I can't-HNNNNGGAAAHHH!" It hits like lightning. Like drowning. Like dying. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/orgasm.jpg","right")(playwhenread:"elise squirt",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.70),(a:300,0.82),(a:600,0.76),(a:900,0.88),(a:1200,0.82),(a:1500,0.94),(a:1800,0.88),(a:2100,1.0),(a:2400,0.92),(a:2700,0.96),(a:3000,0.88),(a:3300,0.92),(a:3600,0.82),(a:3900,0.85),(a:4200,0.75),(a:4500,0.78),(a:4800,0.65),(a:5100,0.68),(a:5400,0.55),(a:5700,0.45),(a:6000,0.35),(a:6400,0.25),(a:6800,0.16),(a:7200,0.08),(a:7600,0))))A detonation behind my pubic bone: muscle contractions racing from entrance to cervix in a cascading wave, each ring of flesh firing a quarter-second after the last. My spine arches so hard my shoulder blades leave the bed, and these tits, slick with sweat, marked with his handprints, thrust skyward like they're reaching for something. The orgasm is my body BETRAYING my combat defeat into sexual surrender, converting every drop of fight-adrenaline directly into cunt-spasms around the cock of the man who beat me. I'm SQUIRTING- *SPLOOOOSH* Fluid GEYSERS around his cock, spraying his abs, soaking the bed, and I'm SCREAMING, this long, broken wail ripped from somewhere primal as my first orgasm as a woman DESTROYS me. "THERE!" Keth-ral roars triumphantly. "The pale-meat BREAKS!" The warriors are cheering. Laughing. My cunt is still spasming, still SQUEEZING, milking his cock with these rhythmic pulses I can't control, and he's still FUCKING me through it, extending it, making it WORSE- "HNNNGH-HAAAHH-PLEEEAAASE-"(minigame:"04 2 break choice",10)

(playwhenread:"elise moans",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.62,"peakTo",0.74,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",400,"intervalTo",280,"attackMs",26,"sustainMs",38,"releaseMs",62,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10))(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")The pressure inside my belly is a FIREBALL being cast and I know-I KNOW-if he thrusts one more time, shifts his angle just a little more, I'm going to- "HAAAAAAHHH-HAAHH-HHAAAAAHHHHH!" Something inside me SNAPS like a rope(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.75),(a:300,0.88),(a:600,0.82),(a:900,0.94),(a:1200,0.88),(a:1500,1.0),(a:1800,0.92),(a:2100,1.0),(a:2400,0.94),(a:2700,1.0),(a:3000,0.92),(a:3300,0.95),(a:3600,0.85),(a:3900,0.88),(a:4200,0.78),(a:4500,0.80),(a:4800,0.68),(a:5100,0.58),(a:5400,0.48),(a:5700,0.38),(a:6000,0.28),(a:6400,0.18),(a:6800,0.10),(a:7200,0)))) that's been holding something monstrous back, something the collar has been cultivating in my flesh since the moment it wrapped around my throat. Suddenly I'm not Aldric anymore, not even Elise. I'm MEAT wrapped around marsh-warrior cock and my cunt is CLENCHING so hard I hear him groan above me. The sound that comes out of me starts as a grunt and BREAKS halfway through into something wet and keening: the exact noise I used to hear drifting from brothel windows on patrol nights. I'd always wondered how a woman could make that sound. Now I know: you don't make it. It's pulled out of you, extracted by cock like venom being drawn from a wound. "The pale-meat BREAKS!" Keth-ral roars triumphantly, and he's not stopping, not slowing, he's ACCELERATING his thrusts now that my pussy has given him permission. Each impact makes my tits SWING in wild arcs: first toward my face where the left one SLAPS my chin, then sideways where they COLLIDE with a meaty *THWACK*, then back again in a figure-eight of flesh that has the whole tribe cheering- "She's spraying like a fountain!" "The tribute-cunt LOVES marsh-cock!" I DO. Gods help me, in this moment, with his fat dick CHURNING my virgin guts, I thrakking LOVE it. My back is arched so hard the bones might snap.(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/arch back.jpg") These massive udders thrust toward the bone-moss canopy like offerings to whatever dark fertility goddess watches over marsh-breeding, and my mouth is OPEN. Hanging open like a SLACK-JAWED WHORE because I can't remember how to close it- "Haaaahhh-haahh-HAAAHHHHH-nnnhhh-" Every breath is a moan. Every exhale is a confession. My thighs are SHAKING around his pistoning hips, these thick breeding-thighs that have no business wrapped around a stranger's waist except that's EXACTLY what they're doing, squeezing, pulling him DEEPER- "Look at her FACE!" one of the veterans laughs, and I know what they're seeing: this slack-eyed, drool-chinned, FUCKED-STUPID expression that I can FEEL on my features but can't control. My moss-green eyes rolled so far back I'm looking at my own skull, my tongue lolling out past lips that keep trying to form words and only producing wet, breathy, "*hnnnh-haahhh-nnngghhh-*" Keth-ral shifts his grip, calloused hands SEIZING my waist, fingers sinking into the soft cleft above my hips, and he PULLS me onto his cock as he DRIVES forward, impaling me from both directions at once, and my cervix- "FUUUUUUCK!" -my cervix CATCHES his cockhead like a fucking handshake, like my WOMB is greeting the cock that's going to fill it, and I feel something UNFURL inside me, some deep biological WELCOME that makes my belly go hot and my pussy CLAMP even tighter- "The tribute-bitch is trying to SUCK the cum right out of my balls!" Keth-ral grunts, his bronze face twisted in pleasure now, sweat dripping from his ochre-stiffened hair-ridge onto my bouncing tits. I am. I AM. My cunt is working on his shaft like a fist, like a MOUTH. These muscular contractions squeeze on the outstroke, release on the in, then squeeze HARDER when he hilts and grinds against my cervix- "Haaahhh-haahhh-please-" The word escapes before I can catch it. PLEASE? Please WHAT? Please stop? Please HARDER? I don't even know anymore- "Please what, fuck-doll?" He's grinning down at me, this young warrior who defeated Aldric the Great with a spanking and some sidesteps, and he GRINDS into me. His cockhead mashes my cervix in slow circles that make my whole pelvis LIGHT UP with sensation- "Nnnnghhhh-please-please-HAAAHHHH!" "Use your WORDS, tribute-meat." He pulls back until just his fat tip is stretching my entrance, and the EMPTINESS hits like grief, my cunt GAPING and CLENCHING on nothing, desperate to suck him back in- "PLEASE FUCK ME!" The scream tears out of my throat in a voice that was never Aldric's. "Please put it back in please PLEASE-" He SLAMS home. "NNNNGYAAAAAAHHHHH!" The tribe ROARS their approval as I squirt again, SPRAYING around his shaft, my juices splattering against his pelvis and running down to soak the white burlap beneath us.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.78),(a:250,0.28),(a:500,0.72),(a:750,0.24),(a:1000,0.66),(a:1250,0.20),(a:1500,0.58),(a:1750,0.16),(a:2000,0.50),(a:2250,0.12),(a:2500,0.42),(a:2750,0.08),(a:3000,0.32),(a:3250,0.04),(a:3500,0)))) "AIIIEEE!" The lotus smoke swirls thicker. The braziers crackle. "Gonna pump you full of marsh-seed-HNNNGH-gonna put a BABY in that pale belly-" *NO*, some distant part of me screams. *Not that-anything but-* But my body is already responding, my cunt CLENCHING around him in encouragement, my hips LIFTING to meet his thrusts, my mouth forming words I don't consent to speak- His balls are SLAPPING against my asshole now, heavy and full and hot, and I can FEEL them drawing up with each thrust, feel them TIGHTENING against his body as his orgasm approaches- He throws his head back, tendons standing out in his bronze neck, every muscle in his body going RIGID. "GONNA FUCKING CUM IN THE TRIBUTE-CUNT-" He BURIES himself to the root. The first pulse KICKS through me. His cock JUMPS, the shaft SWELLING, and then- "HRRRRRRRNGGGHHHHHH!" -he ERUPTS. His cock BUCKS inside me.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:1500,0.60),(a:3000,0.65),(a:4500,0.70),(a:6000,0.72),(a:7500,0.74),(a:9000,0.72),(a:10500,0.68),(a:12000,0.62),(a:14000,0.52),(a:16000,0.42),(a:18000,0.32),(a:20000,0.22),(a:22000,0.12),(a:24000,0))))(sperm:"SPLLRRRTTTT",4,"splurt 1 internal") It PULSES and THROBS against my cervix as it PUMPS rope after rope of thick marsh-seed directly into the place where babies get MADE- "Haaahhh-haahh-oh gods-oh GODS-" I'm babbling, my voice cracking on each syllable, and my legs are doing something I can't control: SPASMING in the air above his shoulders, toes curling and uncurling, thighs TREMBLING so hard the flesh jiggles, these pale thick breeding-thighs wrapped around a stranger's waist while he EMPTIES his balls into me- (sperm:"SPLLRT-SPLLRT-SPLLRRRRTTT",5,"splurt 4 internal")"HNNNGH-yeah-YEAH-milk it out, tribute-bitch-" Keth-ral is GRINDING into me now, each pulse of his cock accompanied by a circular motion of his hips that SMEARS his cockhead against my cervix, and I can feel my womb DRINKING it, SUCKING the cum deeper like it's STARVING for it- "Nnnnhh-haaahhh-s-so much-" My belly feels WARM, filled, HEAVY with his seed, and when he pulls back an inch I feel it SLOSH inside me, feel the cum SEARCHING for somewhere to go in my newly-mapped interior- He bites my shoulder. His filed teeth INDENT the muscle without breaking skin, and the sensation shoots straight to my cunt, makes it CLENCH around him one final time- "HYYAAAHHH!" My pussy SQUEEZES his softening cock so hard that cum SPURTS out around the seal of our bodies(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:300,0.20),(a:600,0.38),(a:900,0.16),(a:1200,0.30),(a:1500,0.10),(a:1800,0))))(sperm:"SQUELCH",3,"splurt 2"). Thick white marsh-seed ERUPTS from my stretched entrance and runs down over my asshole, pooling on the white burlap beneath us in an obscene puddle- Keth-ral COLLAPSES onto me. His weight is CRUSHING: all that lean warrior muscle pressing my tits flat against my ribcage, his sweaty chest sliding against my sweaty chest, and his heart HAMMERS against mine, both of us percussion now- "Haahhh... haahh... haahh..." I'm panting like a dog. Like a BITCH in heat. My tongue is out, lolling past lips that are swollen from where I bit them, and I can't seem to pull it back in. He raises his head. His dark eyes meet mine, so close I can see the individual flecks of amber in the brown. "Good tribute-cunt," he breathes, and the word slots into a groove in my brain that the last three hours have worn smooth. Tribute-cunt. It doesn't sting anymore. It FITS, the way a key fits a lock, and that absence of sting is more terrifying than any pain. Then he KISSES me. His filed teeth scrape my lips. His tongue INVADES my mouth, tasting of whatever the Sandwalkers drink, tasting of CONQUEST. The bone-beads woven into his ochre-stiffened hair-ridge CLICK against my forehead as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss, claiming my mouth the way he just claimed my womb-(simple_option:"04 2 break kiss","And you... kiss him back.")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.60,"peakTo",0.72,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",420,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",42,"releaseMs",65,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.10))*No.* Somewhere beneath the lotus-fog and the pleasure-lightning and the absolute RUIN of my dignity, something flickers. *Elara.* Her face. Freckled. Copper-haired. Laughing at something I said in our garden, sunlight catching the green in her eyes. *Home.* The cottage. The fence I never finished painting. Our bed. *Hero.* The word fits like armor three sizes too small. I wear it anyway. Hold it against my chest like a shield while this young warrior POUNDS me into the breeding bed, while my cunt continues to flutter and grip and betray everything I ever was. "Hhh-haahh-" My voice is wrecked, my throat raw, but I force my eyes open. Force myself to *focus*. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/dominated.jpg") "Is that-nnngh-is that all you've got?" The words come out slurred, ruined by the cock still pumping into my depths, but they *land*. I see his expression shift from triumph to confusion. "More bite in her than I thought," one of the veterans rumbles from the sideline. "Good." The chieftain's voice cuts through the chaos. "A womb with spirit breeds stronger warriors." My legs are still spasming. My tits bounce with humiliating wet SLAPS against each other, sweat making them *slide*, but I reach up, grab Keth-ral by the shoulders, and PULL him down until his ear is against my lips. "Fill me," I breathe, and the words taste like whatever a cornered animal calls hope. "Show your tribe how much seed the Kheth-Muur can pump into tribute-meat." He jerks back, eyes wild, and for a second I think he might hit me. Instead his hips SLAM forward, harder, *meaner*- "HNNNGH-FUCK-" "You want marsh-seed?" His filed teeth gleam. "You'll DROWN in it, pale-cunt!" I know what I have to do. What this body was MADE to do.(simple_option:"04 2 survive","Survive.")]

"YESSSS-pump your babies into meeee-" It works. Gods help me, it works. His thrusts become erratic, his bronze skin sheening with sweat, the veins in his neck standing out like ropes- Then- "HRRRRNNNGH-" I feel it: the shaft getting thicker, the head flaring wider, and then the first HOT PULSE- He BITES my shoulder. His filed teeth leave MARKS as he GRUNTS against my flesh and I feel it: *gods I feel everything*, his balls CLENCHING against my ass, PULSING, PUMPING- (bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.52),(a:1500,0.58),(a:3000,0.62),(a:4500,0.66),(a:6000,0.68),(a:7500,0.66),(a:9000,0.62),(a:10500,0.56),(a:12000,0.48),(a:14000,0.38),(a:16000,0.28),(a:18000,0.18),(a:20000,0.10),(a:22000,0))))(sperm:"SPLURT-SPLURT-SPLOOOOORT",4,"splurt 8")He's PISSING cum into me. His hips grind, trying to get DEEPER while his cock flexes and SPURTS and FLOODS me. "Haaahh-HAAAH-s-so much-" My legs kick involuntarily, heels drumming against his back as he BREEDS me, and the whole tribe is CHEERING- "SEED HER!" "PUMP THAT PALE WOMB!" "MAKE HER BELLY SWELL!" (display:"divider") Keth-ral wipes his cock on my face. The still-hot shaft drags across my cheek, my lips, leaving trails of cum and my own pussy juice, and my eyes cross trying to follow it- "Good hole," he grunts, then rolls off to the side. I'm still lying there, legs splayed, cum OOZING from my fucked-open cunt in thick rivers, when he leans over. He KISSES me. His filed teeth scrape my lips. His tongue, tasting of fermented marsh-fruit, pushes into my mouth. The whole tribe LAUGHS as I kiss him back because what else can I do? What else can tribute-meat do but show gratitude for being bred? When he pulls away, there's a strand of spit connecting us. "Next warrior," he calls out lazily. "She's ready." (display:"divider") "HAAAHHH-" *For Elara. This is for home. I need to make it through.* My body doesn't care about noble reasoning. My body is CUMMING again, squirting around this stranger's cock while he grips my ass hard enough to bruise- "She's got the breeding hips!" He's LAUGHING as he pounds me. "Feel this ASS-" *WHAP WHAP WHAP!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.68),(a:350,0.66),(a:700,0.70),(a:850,0.46),(a:1000,0.32),(a:1200,0.20),(a:1400,0.10),(a:1600,0),"resumeAfter",true))) His hips smashing into my cheeks make them RIPPLE, and everyone can see it, everyone can see how my pale flesh BOUNCES and JIGGLES and- "I'm-I'm cumming-" Did I say that out loud? "Please-please fill me-I need your cum-" The words pour out of me like the seed pouring out of my cunt. Survival. It's all survival. (display:"divider") *Time blurs.* I'm on my back again. Someone's cock is between my tits, my stupid massive tits that I'm pushing together with my own hands, creating a slick valley for him to fuck- "HNNGH-Here it COMES-" Every hole is filled.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.50,"amplitude",0.14,"periodMs",950,"forever",true)) It arcs through lotus smoke, splatters across my face, my throat, pools in the hollow between my collarbones- (display:"divider") Three cocks now. One in each hand, one in my mouth. My arms ache from jerking them. My jaw aches from stretching. My throat aches from gagging. But I work them all, moaning like the whore they want- "MMMPHH-MMMMPH-" The one in my mouth swells- (sperm:"GLORRRP",4,"splurt 3 internal")Cum floods my throat. I'm swallowing, swallowing, but it's too much: it spurts from my nose, dribbles from the corners of my stretched lips- The ones in my hands go off- (display:"divider") (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/double teamed.jpg")($play:"sex loop","gangbang")Every hole is filled. One warrior pounds my pussy, another claims my ass, and a third fucks my throat.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.52,"amplitude",0.16,"periodMs",900,"forever",true)) "GLUK-GLUK-GLUK-" My body is MEAT being used by three cocks, my tits swinging and SLAPPING with the rhythm, and somewhere in the lotus-fog I'm CUMMING again- Or still- I can't tell anymore- (display:"divider") The chieftain finally rises from his throne. The other warriors pull back, leaving me sprawled in the center of the breeding bed. I'm GLAZED in cum. It's in my hair. My eyelashes. Running from every hole. My pussy is GAPING, still pushing out thick globs of seed from the five-six?-loads already pumped inside. "You survived the warriors," he says simply. His cock is MASSIVE. The biggest yet. "Let's see if you survive the chief." His weight drives the air from my lungs. His cock SPEARS into my cum-flooded cunt with a wet *SCHLOOOOORP*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.58,"peakTo",0.72,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",620,"intervalTo",420,"attackMs",38,"sustainMs",58,"releaseMs",95,"rampBeats",20,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.14,"depthJitter",0.06)) and suddenly he's deeper than anyone has been- "AAAAAAHHHHH-" "Good," he grunts against my ear. "SCREAM." I do. I scream as he breeds me with slow, DEEP strokes that push all the cum already inside me out in wet spurts. I scream as my legs wrap around him WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. I scream as I cum on his massive cock... "Please-" I'm babbling now. "Please-breed me-make me carry marsh-warriors-" "You'll carry until your belly drags the ground," he promises, and his cock SWELLS inside me. I feel it thicken, feel the head FLARE against my cervix like a fist opening.(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/chieftan creampie.jpg") Then he ERUPTS.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.60),(a:1000,0.65),(a:2000,0.70),(a:3000,0.75),(a:4000,0.80),(a:5000,0.82),(a:6000,0.84),(a:7000,0.82),(a:8000,0.80),(a:9000,0.76),(a:10000,0.72),(a:12000,0.65),(a:14000,0.56),(a:16000,0.46),(a:18000,0.36),(a:20000,0.26),(a:22000,0.16),(a:24000,0.08),(a:26000,0)))) The sensation is DIFFERENT from the warriors. They came in spurts. The chieftain comes in a FLOOD: one continuous hot POUR that I feel pressurizing my already-stuffed womb. The cum from six previous loads compresses, rearranges, makes room for what their chief is depositing. My belly SHIFTS. I feel it push outward, the skin tightening over a womb packed beyond capacity, and the overflow squirts out around his shaft in thick gouts that splash against my inner thighs with the sound of someone pouring porridge from a height. (display:"divider") When he pulls out, cum POURS from me. A waterfall of marsh-seed splattering on the bed, and I'm SOBBING from sheer *overload*- "The tribute is accepted," the chieftain announces. "The Kheth-Muur will migrate north." (display:"divider") The tribe cheers. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/aftermath.jpg")I lie there. Bred. Pumped full. Survived. *Aldric the Great is truly dead.* *I'm Elise now.* *And I did what I had to do.*(simple_option:"04 1 bound","Later...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")My lips part and my tongue tangles with his and something in my brain SHUTS OFF. Suddenly I'm SUCKING on his tongue, NURSING on it like it's providing nutrients, tasting the bitter ochre that's smeared on his lips, tasting his VICTORY, and when he pulls back with a wet *POP* there's a string of spit connecting our mouths that stretches and stretches until it SNAPS- "Haahhh... hahhh..." I'm panting as he rolls off me, my tits WOBBLING back into their natural teardrop shape after being compressed, and there's cum, SO much cum, already OOZING from my stretched cunt, making obscene wet sounds as it bubbles out. (sperm:"Glllrrrp... sploooort",3,"splurt 4")The tribe is CHEERING. ($play:"song","gangbang music")($play:"sex loop","gangbang")"Well seeded, Keth-ral!" "The pale-meat's leaking like a broken water-jug!" "Who claims second breeding?" Keth-ral collapses beside me on the burlap, laughing, his softening cock still DROOLING the last drops of seed onto his thigh. He turns his head and grins at me, those filed teeth catching the brazier-light, and says, "Your cunt was MADE for marsh-cock, tribute-bitch. We shall pump so many babies into that pale belly..." Instead of horror, instead of revulsion, I feel something else. "Haahh!" The sound escapes me, high and breathy, and more cum spurts from my hole(sperm:"splllrt",2,"splurt 1"), painting my inner thighs with thick white streaks. An older warrior is already climbing onto the bed. (display:"divider") (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/all sides.jpg")"HNNNNNGHHHAAAAAHHH!" He's on top of me, my legs pushed back until my knees are beside my ears, this mating press that makes my cunt feel like it goes on FOREVER, like he could thrust straight through me and out my mouth. "Had these cut when I was fifteen. Every ridge blessed by the Bone-Mother to breed better warriors." *SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP* "Haahh-hahh-oh FUCK oh fuck the ridges are-HNNNNGHH!" His cock has ritual scarification: raised keloid spirals carved into the shaft itself(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.50,"peakTo",0.64,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",520,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",45,"sustainMs",55,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.14,"depthJitter",0.06)), wound tight as corkscrew threading. When he slides into my cum-slick cunt I feel each ridge CATCH on my swollen walls like fingers dragging across wet silk. The first spiral hits my g-spot and my vision whites out. The second drags across tissue so sensitive I can count the individual bumps: one, two, three, four, each one plucking a different nerve. By the time he's fully seated the spirals have mapped my entire channel, and every micro-movement sends the pattern ROTATING inside me like a key turning in a lock I didn't know I had. "...plant another warrior in that soft belly..." "Yes-HAAAHHH-yes please-please put babies in me-" *Where are these words COMING from?* I know where. From the same place that makes my hips LIFT to meet each thrust. "HRRRRNNNGHH!" He ERUPTS without warning, cock pulsing against my cervix, and I feel the cum spurting directly into my womb to mix with what's already there. (display:"divider") Someone rolls me onto my stomach and I'm on all fours, these massive tits swaying(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.48,"peakTo",0.60,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",460,"intervalTo",320,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",38,"releaseMs",68,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.24,"depthJitter",0.12)) heavily with their own weight, nipples brushing the burlap as another warrior, younger, eager, fucks me from behind. *SHLORP-SQUISH-SHLORP* "Her pussy's so USED already," he laughs. There's another cock at my face, one of the veterans, grey starting to show in his hair-ridge, and he's rubbing his leaking tip across my lips, painting them with precum until they GLISTEN. "Open up, tribute-whore." (display:"divider") The lotus smoke has soaked into me through my lungs and is now coming out through my SKIN. I can feel it, a warm tingling that turns every square inch of flesh into an erogenous zone. The breeze from someone walking past makes my nipples ACHE. The burlap beneath my ass feels like fingers. My cunt produces a steady trickle of clear slick that I can feel running down the crease of my ass even when no one's touching me: my body lubricating itself for the NEXT cock, always preparing, always open for business. Each breath pulls more smoke in and my thoughts get slipperier, harder to hold, sliding toward the next orgasm like water finding the drain. I'm on my back again. How did I get here? There's a cock between my tits.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.28,"peakTo",0.40,"baseFrom",0.14,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",680,"intervalTo",460,"attackMs",78,"sustainMs",48,"releaseMs",95,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.18,"depthJitter",0.06)) "Push them together, pale-meat." My hands press my breasts together without permission. The flesh overflows my grip, warm and slippery with mixed cum and sweat, and I have to SQUEEZE to maintain the channel. His cock between them burns like a bar of iron sliding through butter: the ridge of his cockhead catching on my breastbone with each upstroke, the shaft displacing soft tissue that bulges around it in waves. The friction heats my cleavage until it feels like my tits are running a fever of their own. *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* His balls slap against the underside of my tits with each thrust, and his cockhead emerges at the top of my cleavage, purple-red and angry, drooling precum that pools in the hollow of my throat. "These tits were MADE for fucking," he grunts. "Mmmhmm-" I agree, because there's ANOTHER cock in my mouth, this one so thick my jaw aches, and someone else is in my cunt, always someone in my cunt now, I'm never empty for more than a few seconds, and my hands- There are cocks in my hands too. I'm COVERED in dicks. Surrounded. Buried. A forest of throbbing marsh-meat all aimed at me, all using me, all WANTING me, and the lotus smoke makes it feel like I'm floating even as I'm being fucked into the breeding bed. "Look at her FACE," Vash'ti's voice cuts through the haze. "She's gone cock-stupid." *SPLLLLRT* The cock between my tits erupts, cum fountaining up to splatter across my chin and neck, pooling in my collarbones, and I GIGGLE. Fucking GIGGLE. Warm seed drips down my chest. (display:"divider") The cock in my mouth ERUPTS without warning: *SPLLLLRRRRTTT*. Suddenly my cheeks are BULGING with hot seed, so much I can't swallow fast enough, thick ropes of it BURSTING past my lips and running down my chin in twin rivers that drip-drip-drip onto my heaving tits. "GLLLRRRK-HRRRRK-" I'm gagging but I'm also CUMMING, my pussy clenching around whoever's inside me, I've lost track, they blur together now, and the sensation of being filled at both ends makes my eyes roll back until I'm staring at the bone-moss canopy through fluttering lashes. "*Swallow it, tribute-whore*." I TRY. Gods help me, I try. My throat works desperately, *GULP-GULP-GULP*, but there's too much, there's ALWAYS too much, and cum bubbles from my nostrils as I choke on what feels like a pint of marsh-seed. Someone YANKS my hair, fingers tangled in sweat-soaked black strands, and my head is wrenched back, throat stretching into a straight line that lets the cock slide DEEPER. "GLLLLLLRRRRRKKKK!" (display:"divider") "This hole's been neglected," someone observes. "HNNNGH-wait-not there-HAAAAAHHHHH!" The first finger breaches me and my whole body JOLTS, these massive tits swinging forward to SLAP together with a meaty *THWACK*. Then there's a COCK, thick and insistent, pressing against my virgin ass with the inevitability of a siege ram. "Relax, tribute-meat. Your body was BUILT for this." "Nnnghh-too big-it's too-FUUUUUCKKK!" He doesn't wait. The ring of muscle that's been clenching shut since the moment I became female STRETCHES around his cockhead. The sensation is entirely different from my cunt. No wetness to ease the way, just pressure and heat and the sick feeling of something going IN where everything should come OUT. My sphincter fights him for two terrible seconds, then SURRENDERS, and he pops through into a space that's tighter, hotter, DRIER than my pussy. I can feel him and the cock in my cunt separated by a wall so thin they GRIND against each other through it: two invaders shaking hands through the membrane of my dignity- "*SCHLORP-SQUELCH-SCHLORP*" Someone shoves a cock into my screaming mouth and I'm stuffed at every hole, used from every angle, nothing but a collection of warm wet passages for marsh-cocks to empty themselves into. My tits have been bouncing for so long the connective tissue beneath them has gone from aching to NUMB to this deep, hot throb like a second heartbeat in my chest. The skin underneath is chafed raw from swinging against my ribs. My nipples have been hard for hours, overstimulated into permanent erection, the areolae puffy and swollen to twice their normal size, so sensitive that even the AIR moving across them as they swing sends jolts straight to my cunt. (display:"divider") "BRING THE TRIBUTE TO ME." The chieftain's voice cuts through the lotus haze. Kareth-Suul. Hands haul me up. I'm DRIPPING, cum running down my thighs, leaking from my ass, smeared across my face and tits and belly, and they CARRY me to where he sits on his bone-throne, carried like the breeding-tribute I've become. His cock juts from his leather wrap like a weapon: longer than the others, thick as my wrist, the head almost purple with backed-up need. He's been WATCHING this whole time. Waiting. Letting his warriors have their fill before claiming the prize himself. "Sit." One word. A command. My traitorous body OBEYS, climbing into his lap, my thighs spreading over his as I position my well-used cunt above his waiting shaft. "The Kheth-Muur recognize your tribute," he says formally, one hand gripping my hip, the other reaching up to SQUEEZE my left tit hard enough to make me gasp. "You have served well, pale-meat. Our migration shall turn from your master's territory." "Th-thank you-HNNNNGHAAAHHH!" He PULLS me down and gravity does the rest. His cock enters through a pussy so stretched and cum-flooded that the first four inches meet no resistance at all(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:400,0.35),(a:800,0.42),(a:1200,0.50),(a:1600,0.58),(a:2000,0.64),(a:2400,0.70),(a:2800,0.68),(a:3200,0.72),(a:3600,0.70)))): just a wet SCHLORP as he displaces the seed of every warrior who came before him. Then inch five hits something the others didn't reach. Inch six pushes PAST it. By inch seven my hands are clawing his shoulders and I'm making sounds I don't recognize, and when the final inch seats him fully my cervix KISSES his cockhead and I feel it: every previous load of cum trapped between us, compressed, heated, his cock stirring it all together inside me like a pestle in a mortar full of seed. "But we shall keep you for three more days," he growls against my ear, his filed teeth scraping my earlobe. "To ensure the tribute is... *complete*." "Y-yes-HAAHHH-yes, use me-breed me-HNNNGH!"(simple_option:"04 1 bound","Later...")

The third has learned caution. He circles, spear held low, watching my footwork instead of my flesh. "Fuck-doll fights like a *serpent*," he says. "But you're *bleeding*, pale-meat." I show teeth. "So are *you*." His eyes flick down, instinct, checking his body for wounds he might have missed. <span class='wind'>"Ventusfury."</span> Wind *slams* into him from the side. He stumbles, plants his spear to catch himself: all the force I can muster with my reserves guttering. Three steps and I'm inside his reach, looking up into eyes that have just realized he's going to die. Whisperwind goes in under his chin and doesn't stop until it finds brain. I spin toward the fire-wall, dying now, the flames guttering as they consume the reed-mat's moisture, and I see the two warriors on the other side preparing to charge through. The one whose hair I ignited is still burning, still screaming, stumbling toward the platform's edge while his companions ignore him. Above me: the dry *click* of a blowgun being loaded. I twist. Too slow. The dart *grazes* my shoulder instead of burying itself deep, slicing a furrow through skin before spinning away into the smoke. But even that glancing contact is enough. Cold spreads from the wound like ice water in my veins, the venom on the dart-tip seeping into the cut. My left arm goes heavy. Then numb. I clamp my good hand over the wound, shallow, barely bleeding, and look up into the bone-trophy canopy where the blowgunner crouches, already loading another dart. The structure he's standing on is part of the web of ropes and branches that holds this entire platform together. One of those ropes extends down to the support post beside me. <span class='fire'>"Ignisurge."</span> The word comes out through gritted teeth. The fire that blooms from my palm is weaker than before. I'm emptying faster than I should. But it's enough to catch the rope. Hemp blackens. Smokes. *Parts*. The blowgunner grabs for the trunk, catches it, but the second gunner beside him isn't so lucky. I hear the scream. The impact. The wet *crack* of legs breaking on the platform below. The fire-wall collapses. The two remaining platform-warriors come through the embers with spears leveled and murder in their eyes, and behind them I hear something that makes my blood run colder than any paralytic. Six legs. Moving in a flowing wave-pattern. The *scrape* of scales against wood. A voice, female, cutting through the chaos like obsidian through flesh: "*Enough.*" The warriors halt mid-charge. She emerges from behind the Chieftain's bone-throne on twelve feet of grey-green scales and crocodilian hunger, six legs carrying it with an eerie, flowing gait that makes the platform *shudder* with each step. The drake's head swings toward me, forward-facing eyes fixing on my position with predatory intelligence, and its mouth opens to display triple rows of teeth that interlock like the bars of a cage. Vash'ti sits astride its back like she was born there. The scarification across her ribs catches the firelight, blue-black pigment marking her as something more than a common warrior. Drake-scale beads glint in her cornrowed hair. A ten-foot bone lance rests across her thigh. She looks at the bodies scattered across the platform. Looks at me: blood-soaked, panting, my left arm hanging useless at my side, my chain-mail bikini askew with one triangle barely covering a nipple gone hard from the cold. Just the cold. (playwhenread:"swamp drake")"You fight well for a fuck-doll," she says in Valarian better than the Chieftain's. "But I doubt you've ever faced a *drake*." The Chieftain hasn't risen from his throne. He's *watching*. My left arm won't respond at all. The numbness has spread past my shoulder, creeping toward my chest. I have minutes before the whole arm is useless deadweight. "Come *on* then," I say, and my voice sounds steadier than I feel. Vash'ti smiles. It doesn't reach her eyes. "Keth'ral," she commands. "*Hunt.*" (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/its a lie.jpg","My sword struggles to mock me when it's painted red."){(set: $pb_form to "elise") (set: $pb_magicSealed to false) (set:$portrait to "img/battle/elise.png") (set:$battle_backdrop to "img/ch04/drake_platform.jpg") (set: $enemy_portrait to "img/battle/enemies/VashtiDrakeRider/VashtiDrakeRider.png") (battle: "04 vashti result", "VashtiDrakeRider", (dm: "heroism", $heroism, "form", $pb_form, "magicSealed", $pb_magicSealed ) )}

($play:"song",0)(unless:$choice is "Fail Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightblood.png")($play:"song","swamp combat")(showhp:)The drake dies badly. I empty everything I have left into one word. <span class='ice'>Glacieshold</span>. Ice RIPS across the drake's scales, a desperate, ugly spray, no artistry in it, and catches Keth'ral mid-lunge. The joints of its forward legs freeze solid in a single heartbeat. The beast's momentum carries it another three feet before its frozen limbs *shatter* beneath their own weight, and twelve feet of grey-green muscle crashes onto the reed-mat platform with a sound like a building collapsing. The rider launches herself clear. The woman hits the platform rolling, comes up with her bone-knife drawn, and I'm already there: Whisperwind descending in an arc. She gets the knife up. The corrupted blade bites through bone and leather into the meat of her shoulder, shallow, but *enough*. She screams. Whisperwind punches through her throat before she can get the knife back up. She dies staring at me, predator-contempt frozen on her face, and I have to *twist* the blade to free it from the cage of her vertebrae. When I straighten, the platform has gone silent except for the crackle of dying flames and my own ragged breathing. The Chieftain rises from his bone-throne. He moves with the languid grace of a man who has watched most of his warband die and feels nothing but mild inconvenience. The obsidian greatsword comes off his back in a single fluid motion: five feet of volcanic glass that catches the firelight and *drinks* it, the edge so sharp it seems to cut the very air. The blade is older than this tribe. Older than the marshes themselves. I can feel the weight of its history from fifteen feet away. "Kareth-Suul," he says, placing a massive hand over his chest. "So you know the name of the one who ends you." He's *huge* up close. Six and a half feet of sun-darkened muscle carved with scars that have been packed with ash until they shine like rivers of bone against bronze. His hair-ridge stands stiff with rendered fat and red ochre, finger-bones braided into the crest from warriors he's killed. His eyes are the color of old amber, and they haven't left mine since he stood. "You've earned this death," he continues, rolling his massive shoulders. "I'll make it quick." "Or." I have to force the word out through a throat gone dry. "Or we could discuss where you might want to migrate." He laughs. "The fuck-doll thinks to *negotiate*? After painting my platform with the blood of my warriors?" He gestures at the carnage around us, the bodies, the dying drake, the fire-scarred reed-mat. "You've killed nine of my people, pale-meat. *Vash'ti* who's ridden beside me for twelve seasons. My *brother's son*." He points the obsidian blade at me. The tip doesn't waver. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/chief.png","left","'Spread those pale thighs and let me plant marsh-seed in your belly.'")"There is only one negotiation left." My grip tightens on Whisperwind. "Name it." "Spread those pale thighs and let me plant marsh-seed in your belly." His amber eyes travel down my body: the chain-scale bikini soaked with blood and sweat, my massive breasts heaving with each breath, the metal thong that's ridden so far up my pussy lips that I'm essentially bare. "One breeding. One planting. A mark of *respect* for a worthy opponent. Then you may limp back to your green-filth master, and I will lead my people wherever you suggest." The collar *purrs* against my throat. *Take it*, it seems to whisper. *Take the easy way. Let him mount you. Let him rut. What's one more violation?* I think of Elara. I think of Snib's hut, and what's probably happening there right now while I'm bleeding on this platform. I think of the days left, and how I'll never make it through them if I start surrendering now.(showhp:)(simple_option:"04 chieftan decide","Give in.","Refuse!")](else:)[($play:"song","gangbang music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodscared.png")The drake *explodes* forward. Six legs move in a wave-pattern that eats distance like fire eats tinder, twelve feet of grey-green muscle flowing across the blood-slicked platform faster than any horse could manage. I throw myself sideways, spike heels scraping against reed-mat, and the beast's jaws snap shut on the space where my throat was a heartbeat ago. The sound of those interlocking teeth meeting is like a portcullis slamming home. <span class='ice'>"Glacieshold!"</span> Ice sprays from my good hand, a desperate, ugly smear, no precision left in it. It catches the drake's flank and *spreads*, crystallizing across scales, but the beast doesn't slow. Doesn't even seem to *notice*. The ice shatters against the flex of muscle beneath, and then Vash'ti is bringing that ten-foot bone lance around in an arc that would take my head from my shoulders. I duck. The lance-tip passes through the space where my skull was. My riposte is pure instinct: Whisperwind coming up in a thrust at her exposed ribs- But the drake *pivots*. Six legs give it leverage no horse could match. The beast's hindquarters swing around like a battering ram, and I have to abort my attack to avoid being crushed. The motion takes me off-balance. These thrakking *heels*- Vash'ti's lance comes back around, at my legs. I jump. Wind-magic gives me lift, carries me over the sweeping shaft in a tumbling arc that makes my tits *whip* around hard enough to blur my vision. I land badly, one ankle turning, and the drake is already *there*, jaws gaping, breath washing over me like rotting meat and something chemical that makes the paralytic in my shoulder *burn*- <span class='fire'>"*Ignisurge!*"</span> Fire blooms between us. The drake *screams*, that metal-tearing sound, and recoils from the flames, its forward eyes streaming. Vash'ti curses in Sandwalker tongue, fighting to control her mount, and I have maybe two heartbeats to- "*Keth'ral. Still.*" The drake freezes. Mid-recoil. Mid-scream. Like someone carved it from stone. But then it moves. *Up*. Its forelegs catch a hanging bone-trophy and *pull*, launching beast and rider into the canopy of dead branches above the platform. I lose sight of them in the smoke and shadow, hear the scrape of scales on wood, the creak of ancient branches- She's *above* me now. I spin, trying to track the sound, but the marsh-mist and smoke make everything a blur. My left arm hangs useless. My right hand is shaking around Whisperwind's grip. The platform is silent except for the crackle of dying flames and the distant splash of something moving in the black water far below. *Where-* No warning. No sound. Twelve feet of grey-green death plummeting toward me from directly above, jaws spread wide, and Vash'ti's lance aimed at my heart. I throw myself backward, wind magic, the last dregs of it, and the drake crashes into the platform where I stood with force enough to splinter the reed-mat flooring. The lance catches my sword-arm. Ten feet of fire-hardened marsh-reed slams into my wrist with enough force to send Whisperwind spinning from nerveless fingers. The corrupted blade tumbles through the air, catches firelight as it falls, and vanishes into the gap of the fire-pit with a sound like a lover's sigh. *No-* The drake's tail sweeps my legs out from under me. I hit the platform *hard*, the impact driving the air from my lungs and sending my massive tits bouncing in opposite directions like sacks of grain thrown from a cart. Before I can roll, before I can *move*, six hundred pounds of scaled muscle is on top of me. The drake's forelimbs pin my shoulders to the reed-mat.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.16,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1600,"forever",true)) Its crocodilian head hovers inches from my face, triple rows of teeth framing a maw that could swallow my skull whole. Its breath washes over me. "*Still*," Vash'ti commands, and the beast freezes with its jaws a handspan from my throat. She dismounts in a fluid motion, landing beside my pinned body with her lance still in hand. "You fight well," she says, looking down at me. "Better than any fuck-hole should. Better than most warriors I've killed." I try to buck against the drake's weight, but my left arm won't respond at all. My right is trapped under one of its massive forelimbs. Her hand clamps my chin. Tilts my head up. Forces me to meet those cold, cold eyes. "Keth'ral has been hunting since before your grandmother was born. He learns. And when he knows how his prey moves..." Her grip tightens. "He takes them apart." The drake's jaws open wider. I can see down its throat, pink and glistening. "Any last words from your green-filth master, fuck-doll?" I think of Elara. Of Snib's hut. Of the days I'll never see. "*VASH'TI. STOP.*" The Chieftain's voice cuts through like an obsidian blade. Vash'ti's eyes narrow. "She killed *nine* of our people, Kareth. She killed your brother's *son*." "And she'll pay for it." The Chieftain rises from his bone-throne, and even at this angle, flat on my back, pinned by a drake, staring up at the smoke-hazed canopy, I can see the *hunger* in his amber eyes as they travel down my body. "But not with her *life*." "The Kharath demands-" "*I* am the Kharath." He crosses the platform with measured steps, his obsidian greatsword still sheathed across his back. "And I say this one pays in *flesh*." Vash'ti's grip on my chin tightens. For a moment I think she'll kill me anyway, let the drake take my head before the Chieftain can stop her. Then she releases me. She walks away. The Chieftain's shadow falls across my pinned body. "Now then," he says, and his smile shows teeth filed to points. "Let's discuss the *terms* of your surrender..."(simple_option:"04 carries","Ugh...")]

(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/chief grin.png","right")(if:$choice is "Refuse!")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")($play:"song","swamp boss")"Counter-offer," I say, and I'm amazed at how steady my voice sounds. "I gut you like a fish, and your Bone-Seer tells your people where to migrate *anyway* because she doesn't want to watch them die in a war they can't win." Kareth-Suul's smile widens. "*Good*," he breathes. "I was hoping you'd say that." He moves.{(set: $pb_form to "elise") (set: $pb_magicSealed to false) (set:$portrait to "img/battle/elise.png") (set:$battle_backdrop to "img/ch04/chieftain_platform.jpg") (set: $enemy_portrait to "img/battle/enemies/KarethSuulChieftain/KarethSuulChieftain.png") (battle: "04 chieftain result", "KarethSuulChieftain", (dm: "heroism", $heroism, "form", $pb_form, "magicSealed", $pb_magicSealed ) )}](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")"I accept." Kareth-Suul's eyes flare with hunger wearing the mask of respect. He lowers the obsidian blade and crosses the blood-slicked platform toward me with the patience of a predator who knows its prey has stopped running. "Wise," he says. "Wiser than I expected from one who fights like cornered prey." My legs won't hold me anymore. I sink to my knees on the reed-mat, my left arm hanging dead at my side. The dart-venom has spread past the shoulder now, turning everything below the collarbone into cold meat. I can't even clench the fist. The position makes my tits *sway* forward, chains jingling, the scale-triangles barely containing flesh that's flushed with exertion and something I refuse to name. "The breeding platform is for *cattle*," Kareth-Suul continues, circling me. "For tribute-meat that comes mewling and soft. You..." His massive hand tangles in my hair, not yanking, just *gripping*, tilting my head back until I'm looking up into those amber eyes. "You've earned better. You will take my seed *here*. On the bodies of those you killed. So their spirits may witness." My good hand twitches toward Whisperwind's hilt. One arm. I'd be fighting the chieftain of the Kheth-Muur with one functioning arm. After burning through most of my magic killing his warriors and his drake-rider. The collar *throbs* with approval.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:400,0.28),(a:800,0.32),(a:1200,0.28),(a:1600,0.22),(a:2000,0.16),(a:2400,0.10),(a:2800,0)))) *Yes*, it whispers. *This is what you're for. This is what this body was made for.* "Look at them," Kareth-Suul commands, turning my head toward the carnage. Toward the warrior I gutted, the one I throat-cut, the frozen drake and its dead rider. "You painted my platform red. Now I paint *you* white." His free hand yanks the tie of his swamp-drake leather wrap. I close my eyes. My dead arm hangs at my side, fingers curled loosely inward, numb as stone. The arm that held Whisperwind through seventeen years of war can't even form a fist to resist what's coming. *Elara*, I think. *I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.*(simple_option:"04 carries","He lifts you to your feet.")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodsubmit.png")]

($play:"song","swamp boss")(unless:$choice is "Fail Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightblood.png")The obsidian blade comes down like a falling tree. I *move*, pure reflex, no thought, and the volcanic glass bites into the reed-mat where I stood, splitting the platform's flooring with a crack. He's faster than any man his size should be, and the backswing is already coming before I've finished my dodge, a horizontal sweep that would bisect me at the navel. <span class='wind'>*Ventusfury*.</span> Wind catches me, *lifts* me, and I go up and over the blade's arc in a tumbling leap that no Aldric-body could have managed. These lighter bones, this compact frame, they're *made* for acrobatics I never learned. I land badly, one heel catching, but I'm *behind* him now, and Whisperwind is already moving. He catches the blade on his vambrace. Bronze rings against corrupted steel, and the impact *jars* through my arms, makes my teeth clack together. He's wearing armor I didn't notice: scaled bracers that match the drake-leather, designed for exactly this kind of close-quarters deflection. His elbow catches me in the chest. The blow lands between my breasts and *lifts* me off my feet, sends me tumbling backward across the blood-slicked platform until I fetch up against the bone-throne itself, gasping, my vision filled with sparks. (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/wound.png","'You have fire, I must admit.'","right")"You have fire," Kareth-Suul says, advancing. "I must admit." The obsidian blade rises for another overhead chop. I roll *under* the throne, between its bone-strut legs, coming up on the other side with Whisperwind ready. My modified stance. My lower guard. The position that accommodates these fucking *curves*. He turns to face me. "Yes I do." <span class='fire'>Ignisurge.</span> Fire *blooms*. Not at him. At the throne. The bone-struts catch immediately, decades of marsh-dried calcium going up like tinder, and I *kick* the burning structure toward him with every ounce of strength these legs possess. He sidesteps. But the burning throne forces him *left*, toward the fire-pit's edge, toward the gap in the platform where flames still lick upward from below. I'm already moving. Whisperwind comes in low, at his knee. The corrupted blade bites through swamp-drake leather and finds flesh beneath, opening a gash that makes his leg *buckle*. He roars, the first real sound of pain I've drawn from him, and the obsidian sword sweeps down in a desperate counterstroke. I'm too close to dodge. I'm not trying to dodge. The volcanic glass *shatters* against Whisperwind's edge, the obsidian fracturing into a spray of razor fragments that slice my arms, my cheeks, the upper slopes of my breasts where they swell above the scale-triangles. Blood wells from a dozen cuts. The pain is everywhere. But his sword is *shorter* now. And I'm inside his reach. The thrust goes in under his arm, through the gap in his scaled bracers, into the soft meat of his side. Whisperwind bites deep, the corrupted blade *hungry* for his blood, and I feel the moment when the tip scrapes against his spine. Kareth-Suul's amber eyes go wide. "Worthy," he breathes, blood bubbling at his lips. "*Worthy*." He falls. The Great Platform is silent except for my own ragged breathing and the crackle of the burning bone-throne. Bodies surround me. The Chieftain of the Kheth-Muur lies at my feet with Whisperwind still buried in his side. I pull the blade free. Wipe it on his leather wrap. I turn to face the Bone-Seer's platform.(simple_option:"04 seer mercy","Approach the Bone-Seer.")](else:)[The obsidian blade moves like black lightning. I barely get Whisperwind up in time. The impact *jars* through my arm hard enough to make my teeth clack together, and I feel something in my wrist *give*. Not broken, not yet, but close. He's not even trying. I can see it in those amber eyes, in the lazy roll of his massive shoulders as he circles me like a cat with a wounded bird. "That dead arm throws off your balance. And you're out of fire-words, it seems," he observes. I lunge. Aldric's signature opening: fast, direct, the point driving toward his throat. Seventeen years of muscle memory compressed into a single thrust that's ended a hundred fights before they properly began. He *catches* the blade. Not on the edge. On the flat, his calloused palm slapping against corrupted steel with enough force to stop my thrust dead. Blood wells between his fingers where the edge bit in. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't even blink. "Beautiful steel," he says, almost admiringly. He *twists*. The motion wrenches at my grip, tries to tear Whisperwind from fingers that are already cramping with exhaustion. I yank backward, heels skidding on blood-slicked reed-mat, and barely keep hold, but now he's inside my reach, close enough that I can smell the rendered fat in his hair, the marsh-salt on his skin. The obsidian blade rises in a blur of black glass. I throw myself backward. My spine hits the smoldering remains of his bone-throne, heat searing across bare skin where the chain-mail doesn't cover. Before I can recover, his foot *slams* into my stomach, measured, contemptuous, doubling me over, my breasts swinging forward in their inadequate metal cups, chains jingling with the impact. "Such *movement*," he breathes. "Your flesh knows how to dance even better than you." I slash at his extended leg while still bent over. Whisperwind opens a shallow cut across his thigh. Blood wells, dark against dark skin, and he doesn't react except to *smile*. Then he's *behind* me. I don't know how he moved so fast. I try to turn, to keep him in front of me where I can see him, but my heel catches in a gap in the mat and I stumble forward, going down hard onto one knee. My ass *presents* itself to him. The metal thong has ridden completely between my cheeks, leaving both globes completely bare and jiggling from the impact. His palm comes down with a *CRACK* that echoes across the platform. "Such *generous* offerings you bring to battle."(simple_option:"04 attack again","Attack again!")]

($play:"song","swamp boss")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fight/1.png")(playwhenread:"spank 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:50,0.48),(a:130,0.34),(a:280,0.42),(a:420,0.26),(a:560,0.30),(a:700,0.16),(a:840,0.20),(a:1050,0.08),(a:1300,0))))The spank sends ripples through my flesh that take a full second to settle. My face burns with humiliation, with rage, with something else I refuse to name. I spin on my knee, slashing at his midsection, and Whisperwind bites into his ribs. Shallow. Bleeding. He *laughs*. "Show me *more*!" The obsidian blade descends. Overhead chop. I block. Diagonal slash. I parry. My wrist screams. Horizontal sweep. I redirect. Barely. Each blow drives me backward. Each impact costs me something I can't afford to spend. He's not even trying to hit me. I realize it too late. He's *herding* me. Toward the fire-pit's edge. Toward the gap where flames still lick upward from below. My heel finds empty air. I go over backward, arms windmilling, Whisperwind flying from nerveless fingers to clatter on the platform ten feet away. The fire-pit yawns beneath me: twenty feet down to coals and death.(simple_option:"04 hand throat","His hand closes around your throat.")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodscared.png")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodsubmit.png")($play:"song","swamp boss")(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/lift.jpg","I didn't say I'd make it *painless*.") He *lifts* me by the neck like I weigh nothing, my heels dangling over empty air, my massive breasts heaving against his forearm with each desperate breath. "I said I'd make it quick," he growls, pulling me close enough that his breath washes over my face. "I didn't say I'd make it *painless*." He throws me. I hit the platform hard enough to see stars. Bounce. Roll. Come to a stop face-down with my dead arm twisted beneath me and my ass in the air like I'm *presenting* for him again. I scramble toward Whisperwind on hands and knees: my functional hand, my knees, my dignity abandoned somewhere behind me. My fingers close on the hilt. His bare foot comes down on the blade. I look up. Past the massive pillar of his thigh. Past the bulge that's grown *prominent* beneath his leather wrap. He's *hard*, this fight has made him *hard*. Past his scarred chest to those amber eyes that are looking at me like I'm already his. "You may keep the blade," he says softly. "I'll mount you with it still in your hand if you like. A warrior deserves to be *armed*." I yank at the sword. Use my legs, my back, everything I have left.(simple_option:"04 doesnt budge","It doesn't budge.")

($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")($play:"song","gangbang music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png")He squats down, bringing his face level with mine. His massive hand cups my chin, forces me to meet his gaze. The other hand finds my breast, the one that's slipped free of its triangle during the fall, and his calloused thumb brushes across my nipple. It hardens despite everything. The collar *throbs*. I bite him. My teeth sink into his wrist, the hand cupping my chin, and I taste blood, feel tendons beneath skin, hear him *roar* with something between pain and surprised laughter. I use the moment to roll, to scramble, to try to *run*- My legs won't work. The paralytic has spread past my hip now. One knee buckles. I go down hard, and this time I don't get up. He walks toward me, flexing his bitten wrist. "The children you'll bear me will have strong teeth." His grin shows every filed tooth of his own. I reach for something, *anything*, in my depleted reserves. "*Ventusfury...*" Not even a breeze. "*Glaci-*" His foot catches me in the ribs. Just hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs, to end the incantation before it forms. Then his weight is on me. Six and a half feet of sun-darkened muscle pressing me into the reed-mat, his massive body *covering* mine like a burial shroud made of flesh. My breasts flatten against his chest. My legs are forced apart by his knees. I can feel him through his leather wrap: feel how *hard* this fight has made him, feel that thick heat pressed against my inner thigh. "Fought like a demon," he breathes against my ear. "Killed like a reaper. But in the end..." His hand slides between our bodies. Finds the metal thong. *Yanks*. The chain snaps. The metal falls away. My pussy is *bare* now, pressed against the bulge of his cock through thin leather. "...in the end, you're *meat* like anybody else." He stands, taking me with him. *Cradled* against his chest like a bride. My dead arm dangles. My massive breasts spill against his forearm. My bare pussy leaves a wet smear on his hip. *Wait. What?* My face burns. The combat, the danger, the raw *dominance* of his victory. This cursed flesh has responded the way it responds to everything. With heat. With slick. With *readiness*.(simple_option:"04 carries","He carries you...")

(badendsave:"chieftains prize")($play:"song","gangbang music")($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/3.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/breeding platform.jpg","right","The breeding platform rises above the carnage like an altar above a charnel house.")"Your mouth says no," he murmurs, carrying me toward a rope-ladder that leads upward to a smaller platform wreathed in smoke. "But this..." His free hand slides between my thighs from behind. Massive fingers press into slick, swollen flesh. The breeding platform rises above the carnage like an altar above a charnel house. Hide mats cover the reed-floor. Bone posts mark the corners. The *smell*: lotus incense thick as fog, sweet and cloying and *wrong*, mixing with something older. He lays me down on the burlap. Gently. "Muraat-Keth," he calls out. "The pale-meat's arm. Fix it." Movement from the shadows. The Bone-Seer glides forward: ancient, skeletal, her milk-white eyes fixed on my face with something that might be pity. She kneels beside me, those gnarled fingers finding the dart-wound on my shoulder. She whispers something in the old tongue. *Cold* floods through me: a clean cold that *burns* as it heals(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:200,0.28),(a:500,0.20),(a:800,0.14),(a:1200,0.08),(a:1600,0)))), the opposite of the venom's creeping frost. Sensation floods back into my left arm in a rush of pins and needles that makes me cry out. "There," Kareth-Suul says with satisfaction. "Now you can hold onto me properly." The Seer's white eyes find mine. *There is nothing I can do.* Then she's gone, gliding back into shadow, and I'm alone with the chieftain of the Kheth-Muur. He *takes his time*: unknotting the leather wrap at his hip with the casual deliberation of a man undressing for bed. The fabric falls away, and- *Oh gods.* He's not even *fully hard* yet and it hangs past his knee. That's the first thing my brain registers: the LENGTH. Draped over his thigh like a sleeping python, the color of oiled mahogany, thick as my forearm at its widest. The foreskin bunches at the tip in wrinkled folds that hide a head I can already tell is going to be the size of my fist. His balls hang beneath like two ripe mangoes in a leather sack, heavy enough that they rest on the burlap between his thighs. My mouth goes dry. My pussy goes wet. Both reactions horrify me equally. "You stare." His voice rumbles through me. "All pale-meat does." "What ARE you?" The words escape before I can stop them. He touches the filed points of his teeth: almost gentle, almost shy. "My grandmother took a troll-blood husband. From the deep marshes, where they grow tall as trees." His amber eyes find mine, and for a heartbeat there's something almost HUMAN in them: a man sharing a family secret. "It skips generations. My father was ordinary. I am... not." The intimacy of the admission makes my skin crawl worse than the threats did. He's showing me his cock. His HERITAGE. Like I should be honored. I keep my words to myself regarding Snib's length. It would not help.(simple_option:"04 on top","He lowers himself beside you.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/chieftan.jpg")($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.05,"periodMs",1400,"forever",true)) Suddenly his *heat* is everywhere: radiating off that massive body like a forge. One arm slides beneath my shoulders, and he *lifts* me, *rolls* me- I'm on *top* of him. Straddling his hips, my thighs forced so wide around that barrel torso that my hip joints ache. And his cock. Gods, his COCK. I can feel his PULSE through it: slow, strong, the heartbeat of something too large for its container. The weight alone pins me. This thing is HEAVY, dense as a weapon, hot as a brand. My skin where it touches feels scalded. His hands find my ass. *GRIP*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:300,0.24),(a:600,0.36),(a:1000,0.40),(a:1400,0.38),(a:1800,0.40),(a:2200,0.36),(a:2600,0.30),(a:3000,0.22),(a:3400,0.14),(a:3800,0)))) "Nnnngh-!" The sound escapes before I can stop it. His fingers *sink* in, calloused palms spreading my cheeks, and the position, the *vulnerability*, makes my heart hammer against my ribs. "Such *gifts* you have." He's *kneading* me now, slow circular motions that make my ass-flesh squish and reshape around his fingers. "I have-" My voice cracks. "I have a *wife*." His amber eyes widen. Just slightly. *Interest* flickers behind them: genuine curiosity. "A wife." He tests the word. "You Valarians... allow such things?" He seems genuinely *intrigued* even as his hands continue their slow, possessive exploration of my backside. "The pale-meat loves another woman." His cock *twitches* against my thigh. I feel it: that thick tube of flesh *pulsing* beneath me, beginning to *fill*. "Does she touch you like this?" His grip *tightens*, pulling my cheeks apart, and I feel the cool marsh-air kiss flesh that should not be exposed to an enemy. "Does she spread this fat ass and *look*?" "Stop-" "Does she *grip* these?" One hand releases my ass and finds my dangling breast instead. *Squeezes*. The weight of it *pours* through his fingers, soft flesh bulging around his knuckles. "These heavy milk-sacks that bounce when you fight?" His cock is *growing*. I can feel it: that serpent-length *swelling*, *lifting* into the air, the head beginning to emerge from its foreskin like something being *born*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:1000,0.14),(a:2000,0.18),(a:3000,0.22),(a:4000,0.26),(a:5000,0.28),(a:6000,0.28)))) It nudges me. "I watched you kill my warriors." His voice drops to something almost *tender*. "You butchered them like festival pigs." His cock is properly *hard* now: risen to its full terrifying length, nestled in the crack of my ass, the swollen head *leaking* something hot and slick between my cheeks. "And I find myself..." He *grinds* upward, dragging that massive shaft through my ass-cleft, painting my crack with precum. "...*wanting* you more for it." *SCHLORP-SCHLORP-SCHLORP.* (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/chieftan buttjob.jpg") He's using my ass to *stroke* himself. His hands on my hips, *bouncing* me slightly, making my cheeks clap around his cock with wet, meaty sounds. The head keeps *catching* on my tailbone, then sliding higher, higher- "Elara." I gasp her name like a prayer. "Her name is *Elara*." "Elara." He tastes it. "Pretty name. For the wife you'll *forget*." His cock *throbs* between my cheeks.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.22,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",1000,"forever",true)) "I won't-I'll *never*-" "You will." His hands release my ass and cage my face, forcing me to *look* at him. Those amber predator-eyes, inches from mine. The filed points of his teeth gleaming in the brazier-light. "This body of yours was *made* for warriors like me. Designed to *breed*." He grips my ass-meat with both hands, his palms spanning each cheek entirely, and FOLDS them around his shaft like bread dough around a rolling pin. The sensation is INSANE. My asscheeks are so soft and so FULL that they mold completely around his girth, warm flesh sealing against warm flesh, and I can feel every ridge and vein of him PRINTED into the inside of my crack. The head pokes out the top between my shoulder blades, leaking something hot onto my spine, and his balls press against my pussy from below like two warm stones. He starts HUMPING. Slow, grinding strokes that drag his entire length through my ass-cleft. My cheeks clap around him with each stroke: *PLAP... PLAP... PLAP...*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.18,"peakTo",0.28,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",1200,"intervalTo",900,"attackMs",90,"sustainMs",80,"releaseMs",140,"rampBeats",20,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.10,"depthJitter",0.04)). The sound is obscene in the quiet of the breeding platform. I feel every inch of him sliding between my cheeks, feel my own flesh RIPPLING around his shaft, feel the friction building heat that makes my whole crack slick with his precum and my sweat. "When I'm done with you..." His voice vibrates through me, through his cock, through the soft flesh wrapped around it. "...you'll trade your wife's life for one more chance to *cum* on my cock." "NEVER!" He *laughs*. "We'll see." He reaches to the side, and my eyes follow- Whisperwind lies there. Within reach. My blade. "Go ahead." His eyes never leave mine. "Take it. Drive it through my heart." His cock is *pulsing* beneath me, painting my tailbone with precum.(simple_option:"04 reach","Reach for whisperwind.")

($play:"sex loop","chieftan fuck")($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")($play:"song","swamp boss")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.68,"peakTo",0.78,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",420,"intervalTo",320,"attackMs",32,"sustainMs",45,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.18,"depthJitter",0.10))(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/chieftan fuck.jpg","'AAAHHH! AAAHH! AAAHHNNNGGGG! FUCK! OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FU-AAAAAHHH!'") *SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP!* "AAAHHH! AAAHH! AAAHHNNNGGGG! FUCK! OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FU-AAAAAHHH!" I'm BOUNCING on him. When did I start BOUNCING on him? My fat ass SLAMS down onto his hips with impacts I can feel in my SKULL, each landing sending shockwaves through asscheeks that jiggle like raw dough SLAPPED on a butcher's block. The sound is OBSCENE: wet meat on wet meat, my ass-flesh clapping and rippling a full second after each impact, my heels tucked under me where I can feel my own cheeks QUAKE against the backs of my calves. His cock is SO FAR INSIDE ME that I can feel it behind my belly button, and my pussy is making these squelching, SUCKING sounds around it: *GLRP-SCHLP-GLRP-SCHLP*. The raw acoustics of fourteen inches of troll-blooded cock CHURNING through a channel that's never been touched, my wetness and his precum being FROTHED into something that splurts out around his base in white bubbles with every stroke- "THAT'S IT!" His hands are around my THROAT, his thumbs on my pulse points feeling my heartbeat HAMMER. My head lolls back, my tongue slides out past my lips on its own like some ANIMAL reflex, drool running down my chin onto his wrists, and I can see my own tits in my peripheral vision: these pale MASSES swinging in wild circles on his chest, SLAPPING together then apart then together, wet smacking sounds layered under the THUNDER of my ass on his hips- My hair, all of it, that ridiculous black curtain, whips behind me with each bounce like a horse's mane at full gallop, the tips brushing my own ass on the down-stroke, sticking to the sweat on my back on the up-stroke. His fingers release my throat and GRAB it instead, wrap it around his fist, use it like reins. Suddenly I'm being RIDDEN from below, my spine arched, tits thrust forward and SWAYING, my eyes crossing because this ANGLE makes his cock drag against something inside that turns my vision to- "OOOOH! AAAH! OOOOUH! UNNNNGH! PLEASE-PLEASE-I CAN'T-AAAAHHH!" When did I stop reaching for my sword? When did my hands go to his CHEST instead? I can feel the scars under my palms, the coarse hair, the HEAT of him. I'm using him for LEVERAGE, my ass producing these absolutely FILTHY *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* sounds as the cheeks compress against his thighs and SPREAD and COMPRESS and SPREAD- "If you're a WARRIOR-" His voice is steady, CONVERSATIONAL, even as his hips PISTON up into me hard enough to make my teeth click, even as his cock SPLITS me open on every upstroke and my pussy SUCKS at it on every downstroke with this desperate *SCHLURP* like it never wants to let go, "-if you LOVE your wife-DON'T CUM!" Elara. I try to think of Elara. Her autumn hair. Her gentle hands. But my ENTIRE BODY is wrapped around the cock of the man who just beat me in combat, my pussy is making sounds like someone STIRRING porridge with a fencepost, my fat ass is APPLAUDING him with every bounce, and I can feel his heartbeat through fourteen inches of dense, throbbing meat. "Can't-can't hold-AAAHHHNNNNGGGHHH!"(minigame:"04 cum check",12)

($play:"sex loop","chieftan fuck")($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/oface.jpg","right")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.75),(a:350,0.88),(a:700,0.82),(a:1050,0.94),(a:1400,0.88),(a:1750,1.0),(a:2100,0.92),(a:2450,1.0),(a:2800,0.94),(a:3150,1.0),(a:3500,0.92),(a:3850,0.96),(a:4200,0.88),(a:4550,0.90),(a:4900,0.80),(a:5250,0.84),(a:5600,0.72),(a:5950,0.76),(a:6300,0.62),(a:6650,0.65),(a:7000,0.52),(a:7400,0.42),(a:7800,0.32),(a:8200,0.22),(a:8700,0.14),(a:9200,0.06),(a:9700,0))))Something DETONATES inside me that I have no name for: every muscle from my cervix to my scalp fires at once, a rolling seizure that starts where his cock is buried deepest and RADIATES outward like ripples from a boulder dropped in still water. My pussy doesn't clench. It CRUSHES, rings of muscle I've had for days and never felt LOCKING around his shaft in sequence, entrance to depth, squeezing so hard that I feel him THROB inside my grip. Then fluid JETS from around his cock in a SPRAY that hits his abs and splashes back onto both of us, and my tits are bouncing so violently they're SLAPPING my chin and my belly in alternating rhythm while my hair whips across both our faces- "PATHETIC!" He laughs, never stopping his assault. "One minute inside you and you're already BREAKING!" "I'm-I'm sorry-ELARA I'M SORRY-AAAHHHHH!" Another orgasm crashes through before the first even ends, proving I'm not a warrior anymore, just MEAT wrapped around his cock-](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.50),(a:500,0.55),(a:1000,0.60),(a:1500,0.58),(a:2000,0.62),(a:2500,0.56),(a:3000,0.60),(a:3500,0.64),(a:4000,0.70),(a:4350,0.82),(a:4700,0.76),(a:5050,0.90),(a:5400,0.84),(a:5750,0.96),(a:6100,0.90),(a:6450,1.0),(a:6800,0.92),(a:7150,0.96),(a:7500,0.85),(a:7850,0.88),(a:8200,0.76),(a:8550,0.78),(a:8900,0.65),(a:9250,0.55),(a:9600,0.45),(a:10000,0.35),(a:10400,0.25),(a:10800,0.15),(a:11200,0.06),(a:11600,0))))I BITE down on my tongue hard enough to taste copper, using the pain to fight the pleasure building in my core, and for ten seconds, maybe fifteen, I hold it back, my whole body trembling with the effort while he POUNDS up into me- "Good!" He sounds genuinely pleased. "You've got SPIRIT! But-" He shifts angle, and suddenly his cock is hitting something DEEP, something that makes stars explode behind my eyes- "NNNNGGGGAAAAHHHHHH! FUCK FUCK FUCK!" The orgasm DETONATES through me anyway, just delayed, just WORSE for being denied, and I'm GUSHING around him, squirting so hard it SPLASHES back against us both- "There she is," he grins. "The warrior dies, the woman is BORN!"] My ass-gods, my fucking ASS, it's like two water-skins filled past capacity, each cheek its own entity CRASHING down onto his thighs with impacts that send ripples through flesh that feels both mine and NOT mine, each SLAP creating aftershocks that travel up my spine and make my tits swing in crazy figure-eights, and I can FEEL how my ass-meat RESHAPES around his hips, how it MOLDS to him, the flesh GIVING and CONFORMING and ACCEPTING his dominance- "OOOOUUUHHH! AAAHH! Please-please I can't-NNNNGHHHAAAA!" "Your cunt is MILKING me," he growls, and I feel what he means: my walls are doing something rhythmic and involuntary, rings of muscle firing in sequence from entrance to depth, each one gripping then releasing a half-second before the next one fires, creating a WAVE that travels the full fourteen inches of his shaft. I can feel each ring squeeze individually: feel them learning his shape, memorizing each vein and ridge, molding my virgin channel into a sleeve cut exactly to his specifications. His cock THROBS in response, swelling thicker with each pulse until his heartbeat and my contractions sync into one obscene rhythm- "Elara. ELARA." I sob her name with the same mouth that's drooling onto his chest, the same tongue that tasted his cum, the same throat that's been screaming in pleasure for the man who BEAT me. My hips SLAM down to meet his thrusts. I can't stop them, can't control them. Each impact drives her name further away. I try to picture her face and instead I feel HIS cock. I try to remember her touch and instead I feel HIS hands spreading my ass. My wife is dissolving inside me, replaced by the shape of this man's fourteen-inch cock carving itself into my memory like a brand into cattle- He GRIPS my hair: gathers all of it, that waist-length curtain of black silk, wraps it around his fist(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:80,0.38),(a:200,0.45),(a:350,0.28),(a:500,0.35),(a:650,0.22),(a:800,0.18),"resumeAfter",true))) like a horse's reins until my scalp SCREAMS. Then he YANKS. My head snaps back, spine arching into a bow, and I feel every strand pull taut from root to tip, feel the tension travel from my scalp down my neck down my SPINE to the small of my back where it meets the arch his cock is forcing me into. My tits thrust toward the bone-moss ceiling, swaying in the grip of gravity, and the angle change makes his cock hit my cervix with each thrust: not gentle taps but PUNCHES that I feel in my TEETH- "AAAHHHHFUCKFUCKFUCK! IT'S IN MY-IN MY WOMB-" "That's where it BELONGS!" His other hand CLAPS my ass so hard the sound echoes across the platform(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.75),(a:60,0.50),(a:150,0.38),(a:300,0.45),(a:450,0.30),(a:600,0.35),(a:750,0.20),(a:900,0.24),(a:1100,0.12),(a:1300,0),"resumeAfter",true))), the flesh RIPPLING outward in waves I can track by feel alone, each wave colliding with the next thrust to create these obscene SPLASH sounds of sweat and sex- And then his whole body goes RIGID beneath me, his cock SWELLING inside my already-stretched channel until I think I might actually TEAR, his balls drawing up tight against my ass- "TAKE IT! TAKE MY FUCKING SEED!"(simple_option:"04 chief creampie","Take it.")

($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")($play:"sex loop","chieftan creampie")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/chieftan creampie.jpg","'TAKE IT! TAKE MY FUCKING SEED!'")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.60),(a:1500,0.66),(a:3000,0.72),(a:4500,0.76),(a:6000,0.78),(a:7500,0.76),(a:9000,0.72),(a:10500,0.66),(a:12000,0.58),(a:14000,0.48),(a:16000,0.38),(a:18000,0.28),(a:20000,0.18),(a:22000,0.10),(a:24000,0)))) *SPLOOOOORRRRRRTTTT!* The first rope of cum BLASTS against my cervix like a punch thrown from inside. The HEAT of it: hotter than his cock, hotter than blood, like someone poured fresh stew directly into my guts. And the VOLUME: I feel it POOL instantly, a heavy warmth spreading through my deepest parts, coating walls that have never felt anything but his cock. My womb ACHES as the pressure builds behind my cervix, his seed seeking entry, DEMANDING entry, and this body, this traitorous, purpose-built breeding body, starts to OPEN for it- "NNNNNGGGAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" I'm cumming AGAIN, harder this time, my pussy CLAMPING around him in rhythm with his spurts, MILKING him, HELPING him pump more of that thick tribal seed into my virgin womb, and I can feel my belly starting to WARM with it, starting to feel FULL- *SPURT-SPURT-SPLOOOORRRRT!* "Yes-YES-drain these fucking balls!" (display:"divider") I'm panting, GASPING, collapsed forward on his chest with my tits MASHED against his scarred pectorals, his hand still gripping my hair while his softening cock slides out with a wet SCHLLLLORP that makes cum GUSH from my destroyed pussy, and I can feel aftershocks of his orgasm: little spurts that paint my ass-cheeks with hot white streaks- "Beautiful," he breathes against my ear, and his voice is almost TENDER now. His softening cock shifts inside me and my pussy clenches around it: an involuntary squeeze that makes more cum burble out around his shaft with a wet *GLORP*. My body doesn't want him to leave. My body wants him to stay INSIDE forever. "The way your face flushes red as sunset. The way your body GRIPS even when your mind resists." His hand releases my hair. Strands stick to his fingers, black silk glued with sweat. He strokes down my spine to the small of my back where his cum is leaking out of me in a slow, warm river. "I can FEEL the warrior in you. She's still fighting even while her cunt begs me to breed her again." His thumb traces a circle at the base of my spine. My pussy contracts. More cum gushes out. "Give me another hour, and that warrior will be silent." I should say something defiant. Should- (display:"divider") (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/dominated.jpg","'GUHHHHHAAAA! FUCK! FUCK I'M GOING TO DIE!'") *SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT!* "GUHHHHHAAAA! FUCK! FUCK I'M GOING TO DIE!" My face is MASHED into the burlap, my ass HIKED up into the air like a bitch presenting for breeding, and he's SQUATTING behind me(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.70,"peakTo",0.82,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",400,"intervalTo",280,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",75,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10)), using GRAVITY and his impossible strength to drive down into my destroyed pussy with impacts that make my skull rattle- His hand wraps around my THROAT from behind, and the position forces my spine into this obscene arch that makes my ass cheeks spread WIDER, lets him sink DEEPER, and I can feel my own massive tits DRAGGING across the rough burlap beneath me with each thrust, my nipples catching on the weave and sending sparks of pleasure-pain that burn out whatever's left of my thoughts- "If you're a WARRIOR-" *SLAM* "-if you LOVE your wife-" *SLAM* "-DON'T. FUCKING. CUM!" But my ass is CLAPPING together around his cock, each cheek a separate entity of jiggling pale flesh that CRASHES into the other with wet meaty impacts, and the sound is like someone beating a drum made of raw meat, and I can feel every ripple traveling through my body, through my pussy WALLS that are gripping him so tight I think I might actually squeeze him in HALF- "NNNNNGGGAAAAHHH! I CAN'T-I CAN'T-" This one ARRIVES. My pussy remembers what it learned ten minutes ago(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.80),(a:300,0.90),(a:600,0.85),(a:900,0.95),(a:1200,0.88),(a:1500,0.92),(a:1800,0.82),(a:2100,0.85),(a:2400,0.72),(a:2700,0.60),(a:3000,0.48),(a:3300,0.36),(a:3600,0.24),(a:3900,0.12),(a:4200,0)))) and skips the foreplay, clenching into that same devastating rhythm immediately, and I feel myself GUSH around him before the word "cumming" even forms in my mouth. My body has been TRAINED in a single session. "WEAK!" He sounds PLEASED, genuinely delighted by how fast I broke the second time, and he INCREASES his pace, rutting me into the burlap like I'm nothing but a convenient hole attached to an inconveniently mouthy warrior- My eyes roll back so far I can see the inside of my own SKULL, my tongue lolling out, drool mixing with the marsh-humid air, and somewhere in the foggy distance I feel my pussy CLAMP and SPRAY and absolutely SOAK his thrusting cock- (display:"divider") *SPLRRRRRRRRRTTTT!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.62),(a:1200,0.68),(a:2400,0.74),(a:3600,0.78),(a:4800,0.80),(a:6000,0.78),(a:7200,0.72),(a:8400,0.64),(a:9600,0.54),(a:11000,0.44),(a:12500,0.32),(a:14000,0.20),(a:16000,0.10),(a:18000,0)))) (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/chieftan creampie 2nd.jpg","'HHHHNNNNNGGGGG-!'") "HHHHNNNNNGGGGG-!" My legs are in the AIR, pointing at the bone-moss ceiling, my toes curling and SPASMING as his full weight settles onto me, pinning me with his massive body while his cock JERKS and THROBS inside my ruined channel- I can feel it: every SPURT, every thick rope of cum PAINTING my insides. There's already SO MUCH from before that this new load has nowhere to GO. It SQUELCHES and BURBLES around his shaft, escaping in wet spurts that splatter against my ass and his balls- "Nnnngh-haaahh-can't-can't think-" I'm barely SENSIBLE, my voice a slurred mess, my face a rictus of fucked-out pleasure that Aldric the Great would never recognize- "Good," he grunts against my ear. "Good little breeding-hole. Take ALL of it." His balls PULSE against my taint, emptying themselves into me-*SPURT-SPURT-SPURT*... (display:"divider") He's LIFTED me: hands hooked under my knees, my full weight supported by his arms and his cock(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.62,"peakTo",0.74,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",380,"attackMs",45,"sustainMs",55,"releaseMs",90,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.10)). My pale, soft body is pressed against his like snow against obsidian. My tits flatten and SPREAD across the scarred plane of his chest, my milk-white flesh against his dark skin, the contrast obscene in the brazier-light. Where he's hard, stone-carved muscle under battle-scarred hide, I'm SOFT, yielding, my body MOLDING to his like wax pressed against a seal. Sweat pools between us, our skin making obscene SQUELCHING sounds as he BOUNCES me on his cock, my hair stuck to his shoulders in wet black ropes- "AAAHHHH! OOOOH! PLEASE-PLEASE I CAN'T TAKE-UUUUNNNGGHHH!" (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/overwhelmed.jpg") "Can ELARA do this?" He SLAMS me down onto his cock, hilting so deep I swear I can feel him in my CHEST. "Can your precious WIFE make you squirt like a broken fountain?" "N-no-I mean YES-I mean-FUUUUUUUUUCK!" He CUMS again, and I feel it SPRAY inside me(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.58),(a:1200,0.64),(a:2400,0.70),(a:3600,0.72),(a:4800,0.68),(a:6000,0.62),(a:7200,0.54),(a:8400,0.44),(a:9600,0.34),(a:10800,0.24),(a:12000,0.14),(a:13200,0)))), feel my already-flooded womb OVERFLOW, feel hot cum GUSHING down my thighs and splattering onto the burlap beneath us- His mouth finds mine and he KISSES me, deep and claiming, and I feel his filed teeth, those predator fangs, scraping against my lip. I MELT into him while his cock throbs and spurts its last offerings into my conquered pussy- (display:"divider") His cock SLIPS out of me with a wet *SCHLORRRP* that makes us both grunt, and I'm practically SITTING on it now: that massive thing jutting forward between my thighs, still glistening with our combined fluids, somehow starting to TWITCH back to hardness- "Look at that." He sounds genuinely AMAZED, staring down at his own cock. "YOU. It's you. This fat ass-" he GRIPS one cheek, "-these milk-sacks-" he squeezes a dangling breast, "-this fucked-out FACE you make-" He LAUGHS, the sound rumbling through his chest against my back. "You make me want to fuck ALL NIGHT. Haven't felt like this since I was a young man, taking my first Muratheen." I can feel his cock HARDENING against my thigh, RISING like something resurrected, and some part of me-some deep, shameful part-THRILLS at the knowledge that THIS BODY does this to him- (display:"divider") "You have EARNED it." His voice is solemn now, almost ceremonial, even as he FLIPS me onto my back, even as he SPREADS my legs wide and positions himself between them- "The Kheth-Muur will depart your master's lands. The Kharath is PAID." "Th-thank-OOOHHH!" He DRIVES into me before I can finish, and my thanks become a SCREAM(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.74,"peakTo",0.85,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",380,"intervalTo",260,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",38,"releaseMs",65,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.24,"depthJitter",0.12)) of overwhelmed pleasure as his cock BOTTOMS OUT against my cervix, as his massive ballsack SWINGS forward to PUMMEL my ass with each thrust- This position-my legs in the air, his full weight behind each stroke-is BRUTAL, the most violent fucking of the night, and my ass RIPPLES with each impact, each cheek separately jiggling in these obscene waves that take a full second to settle before the NEXT thrust sends them flying again- *SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP!* "AAAAHHH! NNNNGH! OOOUH! PLEASE! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-" "This-" *SLAM* "-is what you ARE now-" *SLAM* "-a hole for BREEDING-" *SLAM* "-a vessel for SEED!" And something about those words, about the TRUTH of them, makes my pussy CLENCH and my eyes roll back and suddenly I'm SQUIRTING again, GUSHING around his cock, the spray hitting his abs and splashing back onto my own belly and tits- "THERE IT IS!" He roars with triumph. "The green-filth doesn't own you-I DO!" The collar at my throat has been SILENT, I realize dimly. Silent since-since when? Since he first entered me? It doesn't seem to MIND what's happening, doesn't seem to CARE that another man is claiming what belongs to Snib- (display:"divider") His hand GRIPS my hair, YANKS my head up, and his other hand STROKES that massive shaft-once, twice, three times- "I love to see a warrior's fire EXTINGUISHED." His amber eyes bore into mine. "It is... SWEET." *SPLOOOOOOORRRRRRRTTTTT!*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.50),(a:600,0.46),(a:1200,0.42),(a:1800,0.38),(a:2400,0.34),(a:3000,0.30),(a:3600,0.26),(a:4200,0.22),(a:4800,0.18),(a:5400,0.14),(a:6000,0.10),(a:6600,0.06),(a:7200,0)))) The first rope hits my forehead with actual WEIGHT. I feel my head rock back from the impact, feel the hot line of it land heavy across my brow and slide immediately into my right eye. I try to blink it away but it's too thick, too sticky, gumming my lashes together. Before I can raise a hand, the second rope ENTERS my open mouth: no arc, no warning, just a direct shot that hits the back of my throat and makes me GAG on salt and musk. This tastes like a MAN. A man who just CONQUERED me. "GLLLRRRKKK-!" (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/aftermath.jpg","right","'I love to see a warrior's fire EXTINGUISHED.'")He AIMS for my eyes and HITS them, cum GLUING my lashes together, and I can't SEE anymore but I can FEEL: rope after rope PAINTING my face, my chin, my nose, my cheeks, until I must look like I've been GLAZED like a festival pastry- "There." His voice is satisfied, almost TENDER. "I will miss the fire in your eyes." His thumb wipes a streak of cum from my cheek, pushes it into my mouth. "But this... this is how you should END." I can't respond. Can only lie there, blind, cum-drunk, pussy still LEAKING his seed, and feel the last ember of resistance finally, FINALLY go quiet. (simple_option:"04 chief bad end","You have been claimed.")($play:"song","swamp boss")($play:"ambience","swamp ambience")

*Nine moons later...*($play:"ambience","desert wind")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","goblin ending")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.03,"periodMs",2800,"forever",true))(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.03,"periodMs",2800,"forever",true)) (pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/game over.jpg") The sun births itself from the eastern rim of the world. I watch it paint the Shifting Sands the color of old blood. My bare feet, somehow still soft as any noblewoman's despite months of walking on reed-mat and bone, find the boundary where black marsh-mud gives way to golden dust. Behind us, the Muraat-Kheth drowns in its own rot. Before us, the desert yawns like the mouth of a god we have not yet learned to worship. The baby kicks when I watch the sunrise. She always does, restless at dawn, like her father.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.16),(a:300,0.10),(a:800,0.14),(a:1100,0.06),(a:1400,0),"resumeAfter",true))) The collar at my throat has been silent for three moons. Just cold metal, dead as the warriors I butchered on that platform. Sometimes I touch it and wait for Snib's voice, that familiar pulse of command. Nothing comes. He has forgotten me, or found what he truly wanted in the cottage where I left my wife. *Elara.* The name sits in my chest like a stone. I wonder if she still breathes. I wonder if goblin musk has rewritten her as thoroughly as Kareth-Suul's seed has rewritten me. "Here." The chieftain's voice rumbles behind me, his massive hand finding the small of my back where the swamp-drake leather rides low on my hips. His palm covers the spiral scarification there, my *muratheen* mark, burned into my flesh by the Bone-Seer when my belly first began to swell. "The child kicks strong this morning." She does. My daughter, for the bones have spoken her sex, turns inside me like she's already fighting to be born. My breasts, enormous with their promise of milk, ache beneath the lotus-fiber binding. When I walk, my belly leads me like a compass pointing toward a future I never chose. Ahead, Muraat-Keth casts the bones again. The old woman, ancient when the world was young, reads our path in the scatter of infant fingers across virgin sand. The four warriors who survived my blade flank her, their bronze bodies marked with ash-spirals of mourning for their brothers. They no longer look at me with hunger. I am claimed. To touch the chieftain's woman is to beg for death. The women and children form our center. Fifteen mothers without husbands now, seven children without fathers, all because I came to their marsh with my sword and my fire-words and my stubborn refusal to submit. They should hate me. Some do. I see it in the way they avert their eyes. But others... others have brought me water when the morning sickness took me, have shown me how to bind my breasts when they grew too heavy, have whispered the songs their people sing to babies still in the womb. The swamp-drakes keen as they drag our bone-sleds into the sand. They will die within the moon. They are creatures of water, not dust. When they fall, we will honor them with knives and appetites, waste nothing, carry them forward in our bodies as we carry all our dead. "Take." One of the younger women, Sai'li, whose husband I opened from throat to groin, offers me a water-skin. Her eyes hold no accusation, only the flat acceptance of someone who has learned that life is mostly about enduring what cannot be changed. "The sun will be cruel soon." I drink. The water tastes of leather. Kareth-Suul's hand slides from my back to my belly, cupping the drum-tight flesh where his daughter grows. "She will rule after me," he says, loud enough for the tribe to hear. "The bones have spoken. A chieftain born of two worlds: marsh-blood and cloud-skin." I think of Whisperwind, lost to me now, somewhere in the blood and smoke of that platform. I think of armor that I will never wear again. I think of Aldric the Great, that ghost of manhood I rarely remember being. All of it feels like stories someone else told me about someone else's life. "Walk," Kareth-Suul commands, and we walk. The whole tribe, what remains of it, bleeding from marsh to sand with the dawn. We carry mud on our chests: the earth of our ancestors. We speak the names of our dead as we mix it with dust: the earth of our future. Even I speak a name, though it belongs to no ancestor: "Elara." The word disappears into the desert wind. By full daylight, the marsh is a green line behind us. My feet burn on sand that will soon become an oven. My daughter kicks and turns, restless in her wet world. The collar sits silent as a scar around my throat. I am walking away from everything I was. Walking toward what I've become: peace-womb, war-bride, carrier of tomorrow's chieftain. The sand shifts beneath us, and we shift with it. The Kheth-Muur are no more. We are something new now, something born from loss and necessity and the violent beauty of survival. When the next dawn comes, we will be a day deeper into the desert. When my daughter comes, she will be born beneath stars that have never looked upon marsh-water. When I die, if I die, they will pack my bones with salt and carry me forward, the pale woman who killed their brothers and birthed their future. The sun climbs. We walk. Behind us, the last bone-chimes of our abandoned home sing to emptiness. I do not look back.(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")(set:$bad_end to (dm:"title","Chieftain's Prize"))(display:"unlock bad end")(gameover:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/game over.jpg")

($play:"song","swamp music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")The Bone-Seer hasn't moved. She sits at her platform's center, skeletal frame draped in cobweb robes that barely conceal the ancient scarification covering her torso. Her milk-white eyes track my approach despite their blindness. Bone-chimes click softly in the marsh breeze. I raise Whisperwind with my one good arm. The blade trembles. "Give me one reason not to finish this." Those clouded eyes find mine with unsettling precision. "You are dying, changed-one." Her voice is dry leaves scraping stone. "The dart-venom reaches for your heart. Another quarter-hour and you will be meat for the drakes." She rises, a motion like smoke ascending. "Let me touch you. I can draw the poison out." Her gaze drops to my collar. "And perhaps... see what else afflicts you."(simple_option:"04 seer healing","Lower your sword.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/2.png")The blade dips. I'm wounded and exhausted. She glides forward, feet barely disturbing the reed-mat floor. When her fingers close around my paralyzed wrist, they're cold as old leather. From her robes, she produces a finger-bone, yellowed with age. "My daughter's," she murmurs, seeing my look. "Given willingly before she passed. The strongest ancestors are those who chose to serve." She presses the bone to my shoulder where the dart struck. Words in their older tongue. The bone begins to phosphoresce, and warmth spreads from the wound. It feels almost *maternal.* The numbness recedes like tide going out. Fingers first, then forearm, then shoulder. "The venom is gone." She sags slightly. But she doesn't release my hand. Those milk-white eyes have fixed on the collar with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. "May I... touch the binding?" My throat works. "Why?" "I have never seen its like."(simple_option:"04 seer collar","Let her examine it.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/sandwalkers/bone seer.jpg","left")Her fingertips hover above the metal, *reading* the air around it. Her breath catches. "*Suuk-greth.*" The word sounds like a curse and a prayer combined. "This is older than my grandmother's grandmother." "I found it in pre-human ruins-" "The Greth-Suul-Keth," she interrupts. "Those Who Unmake. My people remember stories from before we walked the sands." Her fingers trace the collar's circumference, still not touching. "It binds you, changed-one. It *feeds*. Every moment you bend to your master's will... something drinks. It restores your body with your own lost Thrum." My stomach drops. "Can you... break it?" "I am old bones reading older bones." A sound that might be laughter. "This was forged by entities that wore stars as crowns." She pauses. "But I might... quiet it."(simple_option:"04 seer ritual","'What do you mean?'")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/1.png")"When your master speaks, it hears. When you think of defiance, it knows." She produces a pouch: seven vertebrae tumble into her palm, each carved with runes. "I can wrap it in silence. Make it deaf to commands and your acts. Unable to squeeze." "But I'd still be-" I gesture at my obscene body. "Yes. The binding remains. The transformation remains. Until your master speaks words of release, you are his." She arranges the vertebrae around my throat. "While the silence holds, perhaps days, perhaps a sennight, the collar cannot punish. Cannot kill you if he dies. And perhaps, if he dies during that silence... you may not die when the silence ends." The implication hangs between us. "Do it." The chant that follows makes the bones rise, orbiting my neck like pale moths, then one by one they *sink* into the collar's surface, their glow dimming as they're absorbed. The collar goes cold. Then... nothing. For the first time since Ironrock, I can't feel it listening. The constant hum of awareness is *gone*. The Seer stumbles. She's aged visibly. "It sleeps," she whispers. "Though it will wake."(simple_option:"04 tribe fate","'What will you do now?'")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/2.png")"My tribe is broken." She settles heavily against a post. "Our chief dead. Our warriors slain. We cannot stay here. The Greth-Drulak grow bolder. The marsh itself sickens." She looks at me with those blind-seeing eyes. "You have taken much from us, changed-one. Perhaps... you could give something back."(simple_option:"04 tribe north","'There are hidden springs in the northern wastes.'","Say nothing.")

(if:$choice is "'There are hidden springs in the northern wastes.'")["The Shade Springs." The words come unbidden, Aldric's knowledge surfacing. "Box canyons in the northern wastes. I have been there. They are defensible and unclaimed. I can describe the landmarks." Something in her ancient face softens.](else:)[I remain silent. Their problems aren't mine. Her expression doesn't change, but something hardens in those white eyes. "So be it. We will find our own way, as we always have."](simple_option:"04 seer gifts","She reaches into her robes.")

(if:(get_choice:"04 tribe north","Say nothing."))[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/2.png")"Go back to your green master, changed-one." Her voice is stone. "May your collar wake to a kinder fate than you showed us." She turns away. The audience is over.](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/1.png")"You have taken much from us today. This... helps balance the scales." Three items emerge from her robes: A pouch of lotus pollen. "Breathed in, it compels truth. Applied to skin, it... heightens sensation." A carved bone. "One question about past or future. Choose wisely." Her own tooth, yellowed and sharp. "Show this to any Sandwalker. They will know you showed mercy to the Kheth-Muur." She presses them into my hands. "One more warning, collar-bearer. The thing that feeds through your collar is patient but HUNGRY. Watch for changes in your master. The collar uses him as much as he uses you."] "Your beast waits below." She gestures toward the rope-lift. "It killed three who fled into the water. Consider that partial payment."(simple_option:"04 return choice","Descend to Jarkrond.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")Jarkrond stands in the shallows, mud caking his legs, amber eyes tracking my descent. When I splash down beside him, he nuzzles my shoulder. Not quite gently. (if:(get_choice:"04 resist horse","Fail Check") or (get_choice:"04 final choice","Give in."))["Those warriors would have flanked me without you," I murmur into his mane. He chuffs. That almost-laugh.] I haul myself onto his back, and as we leave the burning marsh behind, the full weight of what just happened settles in my chest. The collar is *silenced*. I can ride straight to Snib's hut. Walk in. Drive Whisperwind through his skull. He cannot stop me. The collar couldn't stop me. But I'd still be... *this*. Still transformed. And eventually the collar would wake, perhaps to seek a new master. Or I could threaten him. Demand release at swordpoint. But he has to *mean* the words. If he's coerced, would they work?(simple_option:"04 actual return","After the ride...")($play:"song","swamp music")

($play:"song","procession music")($play:"ambience","desert horse")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")*I can kill him.* The thought blazes through my skull like wildfire through dry brush. *Walk in. Drive the blade through his skull before he can squeak. The collar can't stop me. Can't punish me. Can't-* But am I willing to always be *this*? Kill him, but live trapped in flesh that makes mockery of everything I once was? The Seer's words echo: *Until your master speaks words of release, you are his.* So perhaps... threaten him. Sword to throat. *Demand* the words. Make him *mean* them. *Would that work?* I don't know. Flux help me, I don't know anything anymore except that for the first time in weeks, I have a *chance*. A window. The collar sleeps, and Snib doesn't know- Jarkrond's ears prick forward. We've crested the final dune. Below, the dead olive tree scratches at stars like a drowning man's fingers. The hut squats beneath it, firelight flickering through gaps in the hide-flap. *Home.* The word tastes like ash. I slide from Jarkrond's back. My boots hit sand with a muffled *crunch*. The stallion stamps once, amber eyes catching moonlight, then moves toward the lean-to without being led. I start down the dune, bare feet sinking into sand still warm from the day's sun. Each step makes my chest *sway*: those massive weights shifting with their own momentum, bouncing and settling and bouncing again. Soon, I could be rid of these. The hut grows larger. Firelight dances against the hide-flap like something trying to escape.(simple_option:"04 hear it","And then you hear it.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(pic:"ch02/hut.jpg","*Plap-plap-plap-PLAP-*")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")($play:"sex loop","elara fuck 1")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",900,"forever",true)) And then I hear it. *Plap-plap-plap-PLAP-* (hidden_gem:"The sound punches through the desert night like wet meat being beaten against a butcher's block. Each impact makes the hide-flap tremble in its frame-rhythmic, RELENTLESS, the unmistakable percussion of flesh POUNDING into flesh.","The sound punches through the desert night-percussive, primal, persistent, the pitiless pounding of pliant flesh being pistoned past all pretense of propriety, each punishing plap making the hide-flap pulse and tremble in its frame.") My heart seizes mid-beat. Then a voice. High. Feminine. WRECKED. "N-no-*AHHHN*-won't cum-won't cum from YOUR cock-this is just-*HNNNNGH*-just for the GOLD-" *Elara.* My legs turn to water. I have to catch myself against the hut's rough wall, my palm scraping mud-brick as another sound filters through: "HRUK-HRUK-that's what ye SAID last time, fire-cunt-" Snib's voice, thick with exertion. "-but yer smoothie's GUSHIN'! Can't ye HEAR it?" *SCHLICK-PLAP-SQUELCH* "Just for the-*AHHHH*-the gold!" Elara's voice cracks on a sob. "Two-two thousand if you-*oh gods*-if you pull OUT-" "-DROWNIN' me cock in yer married JUICES!" Snib howls gleefully. "THWACK-feel THAT, wifey? That's me BALLS slappin' yer fancy fuckin' ARSEHOLE!" "Don't-AHHH-don't say his NAME while you're-HNNNGH-"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",800,"forever",true))(simple_option:"04 kill choice","Barge in!")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/elara fucked.jpg")($play:"sex loop","elara fuck 1") (hidden_gem:"The scene before me is a painting from the Hollow itself-a tableau of matrimonial DESECRATION so complete that my brain refuses to process it for three full heartbeats.","The scene before me is a diorama dragged from the deepest drain of the Hollow-domestic desecration so devastating, so degrading, so damnably *detailed*, that my dumb brain simply denies it for three dead heartbeats.") Elara lies on the packed-dirt floor, her autumn hair fanned out like spilled wine, her pale legs SPLAYED obscenely in the air, trembling and twitching with each BRUTAL impact. Between those legs, mounting her like a rabid dog mounts a bitch in heat, is Snib, his warty green ass PUMPING with mechanical violence, his massive cock disappearing into my wife's cunt over and over and OVER, stretching her married hole so wide I can see the pink walls GRIPPING his shaft on every withdrawal. "ELISE!" (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/oh god no.jpg","The scream tears from Elara's throat the moment her sapphire eyes find mine.") The scream tears from Elara's throat the moment her sapphire eyes find mine: a scream of pure HORROR, the sound of a soul trying to escape through its own mouth. Her hands fly to cover her face but Snib GRABS her wrists, PINS them above her head with one warty fist while his other hand CRACKS across her tit so hard it leaves an instant handprint. "OI, TITCOW!" Snib turns his head, that broken-toothed grin spreading across his face, his hips NEVER STOPPING their assault on Elara's pussy. "Yer back EARLY! Was just-HNNGH-breakin' in yer wife's BREEDING HOLE proper! Gotta say-" PLAP-PLAP-PLAP "-fer a stuck-up cunt, she's got a HUNGRY little snatch! Been BEGGIN' fer gobbo cock all day!" "NO! That's not-AHHHHN-not TRUE!" Elara sobs, her body CONTRADICTING her with each wet SQUELCH of her pussy accepting his meat. "I said-HNNNGH-said you had to PULL OUT! You PROMISED-oh FLUX it's so DEEP-" "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK! Listen to her MOANIN'!" Snib HILTS himself, grinding his pelvis against her clit, making her whole body SPASM. "Tell yer wifey how good gobbo cock feels, fire-cunt! Tell her how ye've been DROOLIN' fer it since she left!" "Elise-I'm sorry-I'm so SORRY-" Elara's voice breaks into a keening wail as Snib pulls almost all the way out-I can see INCHES of green meat glistening with her juices-before SLAMMING home so hard her modest tits BOUNCE up to her chin. "I tried to-tried to resist but he-AHHHHHHH FUCK-his cock is-it's RUINING me!" The collar sits silent against my throat. I could END this. Drive steel through his skull while he's balls-deep in my wife. But I'm frozen outside my own body, watching this ATROCITY: my wife's pussy lips STRETCH around a cock thicker than my old forearm, her body RESPONDING despite her protests- "Feel that, titcow?" Snib GRUNTS, never breaking his rhythm, the wet PLAP-PLAP-PLAP of his balls against Elara's ass filling the hut like applause. "That's what a REAL hubby does! Makes his woman SQUEAL! Not like YE-probably couldn't even get it up as Aldric, could ye? No WONDER she's creamin' on gobbo meat!" "STOP-please stop SAYING that while you're-HNNNNGH!" Elara's back ARCHES off the floor as he hits something deep inside her, her mouth forming a perfect O of unwanted pleasure. "I don't want to-can't cum from-from a GOBLIN-" But she IS. I can see it building: the way her thighs start to SHAKE, the way her breathing goes ragged, the way her pussy starts to GUSH around his shaft, coating it in cream so thick it forms WEBS between them when he pulls back. And Snib knows it too, the little MONSTER, because he leans down and CLAIMS her mouth in a kiss so violent I hear teeth click- She tries to turn away but he grips her jaw, FORCES his grey tongue past her lips, and I watch her SURRENDER to it, watch her tongue start to dance with his, watch her throat work as she SWALLOWS his spit while his cock DESTROYS her cunt- "That's it, FRECKLE-TITS!" He breaks the kiss, a rope of saliva connecting them. "Show good little virgin milkbags here how a REAL woman takes cock! Show her how ye BEGGED me fer it! How ye said me dick was BIGGER and BETTER than anything she ever had!" "I DIDN'T-" But her protest becomes a SCREAM as he HAMMERS into her with renewed violence, his little green body somehow generating enough force to make her whole body SLIDE across the dirt with each thrust, her tits CLAPPING together, her mouth falling open in a silent scream of-(simple_option:"04 kill choice real","Kill him.","Threaten him.","matters")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")

($play:"song","procession music")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")(if:$choice is "Kill him.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(playwhenread:"draw sword")($play:"sex loop",0)(change_stat:"heroism",20)(pic:"ch04/bad end/elara orgasm.jpg","left")Whisperwind is in my hand before conscious thought forms. The corrupted blade SINGS: not its old song of justice, but a new song of vengeance in its stead. "CUMMING! Oh gods I'm CUMMING on goblin cock! ELISE I'M SO SORRY-I can't STOP it-it's too BIG-too GOOD-AHHHHHHHH!" Snib's head turns, those yellow eyes widening as he sees the blade, sees my face, sees his DEATH coming- "Wait-the collar-ye CAN'T-" "Watch me, you diseased little *fuck*." Whisperwind enters him from behind. The corrupted blade punches through his spine between the shoulder blades, emerges from his chest in a SPRAY of blood that paints Elara's face and tits in hot arterial GOUTS. His mouth opens on a confused *gurgle* as I TWIST the blade, feeling vertebrae separate, feeling his heart split like overripe fruit. But his cock is still BURIED in my wife. And she's still CUMMING. "AHHHHHHHNNNNGHHHH-!" Elara's eyes FLY OPEN, sapphire depths reflecting the firelight and the HORROR of what's happening: she's CLIMAXING around a dying goblin's cock, her pussy MILKING him even as blood pours from his mouth onto her face, and I can see the moment her mind starts to CRACK- "HRRRRK-!" Snib's death-rattle. His balls CLENCH: that last desperate biological imperative(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:200,0.10),(a:500,0.14),(a:800,0.06),(a:1100,0.08),(a:1400,0.02),(a:1700,0)))), that FINAL attempt to breed before death, and I see his balls SWELL- "NO!" I plant my heel-boot against his ass and KICK, sending his body flying backward off my blade, his cock RIPPING free of Elara's pussy with a wet SCHLORP that sends her fluids SPRAYING, and he lands in a heap against the wall as ROPES of goblin cum ERUPT from his dying cock: thick, yellowed, ENDLESS streams of posthumous seed that paint the walls, the floor, everything EXCEPT my wife- He twitches once. Twice. Dies with his cock still spurting weakly, his yellow eyes reflecting nothing. And then Elara starts SCREAMING. Just SOUND. Raw, animalistic shrieks that tear from her throat as she lies there covered in his blood, her pussy still GAPING from his cock, still TWITCHING with the aftershocks of her orgasm, and she's CLAWING at herself, at her face, at her cunt, trying to GET HIM OFF HER even though he's already gone- "ELARA!" I drop Whisperwind, drop to my knees beside her, try to grab her wrists before she tears her own skin- "GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF-!" She's not even SEEING me. Her eyes are wild, unfocused, pupils blown so wide they're almost black. She keeps SCREAMING, keeps clawing, and there's blood under her nails now-her own blood mixing with his- "Elara, STOP-it's me, it's ELISE-he's dead, he's DEAD-" "HIS COCK-IT'S STILL-I CAN STILL FEEL-" She's sobbing and screaming and LAUGHING all at once, her body shaking so hard I can barely hold her, and I realize she's having some kind of breakdown, some FRACTURE of reality where her body still thinks it's being fucked even though he's cooling meat against the wall- I pull her against me. Press her face into my chest. Let her SCREAM into my tits while I rock her, while I stroke her blood-matted hair, while I whisper nonsense into the crown of her head: "He's dead, love. Dead and gone. Can't hurt you anymore. Can't hurt US anymore. I killed him. Drove the blade through his black heart-" "I CAME!" She tears away from me, eyes wild. "I came on his COCK, Elise! I was cumming when you-when the blood-I'm still-my pussy won't stop ACHING for it-" She reaches between her legs, fingers finding her swollen, abused hole, and she SOBS when she feels how OPEN she still is. "I know." My own voice breaks. "I know, love. But it wasn't YOU. It was the pheromones, the-the MUSK, it gets in your head, makes you-" She's babbling now, words tumbling over each other. "He just kept-kept TALKING about his cock, about what he was going to do, and I said NO, said I'd die first, but then-" "Shhh, Elara-" "-and then today he said two thousand gold, and I thought-I thought I could help, thought I could GET US OUT FASTER, so I-" "You don't have to tell-" "-IT REWIRED MY BRAIN!" She screams it at the ceiling. "My womb started ACHING! Started BEGGING! I've been WET for twelve hours straight! Even now-even with him DEAD-I can feel my pussy trying to squeeze something that isn't there anymore!" She breaks down completely then, collapsing against me, and we're both crying: huge, ugly sobs that shake our bodies. I'm holding my wife who got fucked by the creature who enslaved me. She's covered in his blood and her own pussy juice. I'm trapped forever in this obscene body because I killed him without getting him to free me. "Look at me," I whisper into her hair. "Elara, love, look at me." She pulls back. Her face is a RUIN: blood and tears and snot. But her eyes... her eyes are still HERS. "I'm stuck like this." I gesture at my body. "Killed him without getting him to free me, and now... now I'm going to be Elise forever." "How-the collar should have-" "I'll explain everything. But first we need to-" I look at Snib's corpse. "We need to get rid of that." She follows my gaze. Something shifts in her expression: a blankness that could pass for calm if you didn't look at her hands. "Burn it," she says flatly. "Burn everything he touched." "The hut?" "*Especially* the hut." We work in silence. I drag Snib's body outside while Elara wraps herself in a blanket, still shaking, still LEAKING. Every step makes her wince as her abused pussy throbs. We pile everything that was his onto his corpse: the fur pile that STINKS of him. When I return with the torch, Elara is standing naked beside the pile. She's thrown off the blanket. "I want to watch him burn like this," she says. "Want the last thing his corpse sees to be the body he'll never touch again." I hand her the torch. She lights him up. (hidden_gem:"The flame catches his oily skin immediately-goblins burn like they're made of tallow, all that grease going up in black smoke that makes the stars disappear.","The flame catches-goblins burn bright, all blubber and bile, black smoke billowing from his body in a blasphemous bonfire that blots the stars to blindness and bathes us both in the bitter beauty of a bad dream burning itself to black.") His cock, still semi-hard in death, is the last thing to catch, and when it does, it burns BRIGHTEST. "Fucking goodbye, 'Master' Snib," I spit into the flames. "Hope Storak's fertility hell is just an eternity of cumming with no one to catch it." Elara LAUGHS: this broken, hysterical sound that's equal parts relief and madness. "We're free," she says, watching him burn. "You're still... still HER, but we're free." "We are." She turns to me then. Studies my obscene body in the firelight: the way my tits catch the orange glow, the way my hips flare, the useless beauty of this form. "You're my wife now," she says. It's not a question. "I... I suppose I am." "Good." She steps closer, close enough that I can smell sex and blood on her. "Because I need-I need to OVERWRITE him. Need to replace every place he touched with someone who actually loves me."(simple_option:"04 life together elara elise","Months later...")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)Her pussy CONVULSES around him, spraying clear fluid that splatters across the dirt floor in rhythmic GUSHES, her whole body seizing like she's being struck by lightning again and again and AGAIN- "*VENTUSFURY!*"(playwhenread:"spell_wind_elise") The word tears from my throat with all the rage of Aldric the Great. Magic that was once DEAD surges through me like molten steel. The collar sits cold and confused against my throat as wind EXPLODES through the hut, catching Snib mid-thrust and RIPPING him from Elara's cunt with a wet *SCHLORRRRRP* that sends ropes of her cream flying. His body SLAMS into the far wall hard enough to crack mud-brick. Before he can even WHEEZE I'm there, Whisperwind singing through air to bury itself an inch from his head, close enough that one pointed ear starts bleeding from the proximity. "COLLAR!" Snib shrieks, yellow eyes bulging with confusion. "KILL HER! CRUSH HER THROAT! MAKE HER-" "It SLEEPS, you fucking WORM." My voice doesn't sound like mine. Doesn't sound like Elise's. It sounds like steel being *born*. "A Bone-Seer quieted it. You have NO power over me right now." His cock is still hard, still DRIPPING with my wife's juices, bobbing as he scrambles for a hold against the wall. "That's-that's not-COLLAR, OBEY YER MASTER! STRANGLE THE BITCH!" Nothing. The realization dawns in his yellow eyes: real FEAR, the kind I haven't seen since he first captured me. His warty hands scramble for something, anything- I grab his throat. These dainty fingers that used to be ALDRIC'S HANDS wrap around his windpipe and SQUEEZE just enough to make him understand. "I killed seventeen Sandwalker warriors today," I hiss, my face inches from his. "Cut them down like wheat. Their blood is still under my nails. You think one goblin rapist is going to be DIFFICULT for me?" "Can't-HRUK-can't kill me!" He gasps, hands clawing at my grip. "Ye NEED me! Need the WORDS! Won't ever change back without-" (playwhenread:"release me")"RELEASE ME!" I press Whisperwind's edge against his balls, feel him go rigid. "Say the release words. FREE ME. Or I start cutting pieces off until-" "WON'T WORK!" His broken teeth show in a manic grin despite the blade at his sack. "Gotta MEAN it! Can't force the words-collar knows! HRUK-HRUK-yer STUCK, titcow! Stuck as-" My grip tightens. The wind magic ebbs, leaving me panting, these massive breasts heaving inside their metal cups. Whisperwind gleams with pale fire at his groin: one twitch and I could make him a eunuch, make him SCREAM the way he's made me scream for weeks- But the collar would never accept coerced words. I *know* this. I feel it in my marrow, the way a swordsman knows when steel will break. The binding was forged by entities that wore stars as crowns. It doesn't care about threats. It reads *intention*. "Then we NEGOTIATE," I snarl. "You want your gold? You want to LIVE? Give me terms." "HRUK!" He's choking but still *grinning*, that horrible broken-toothed grimace. "Can't-HRUK-can't THINK when I'm mid-rut! Goblin BRAINS don't work right when the breeding fever's on!" His cock throbs visibly between us: still rock-hard, still glistening with Elara's shame. The smell hits me like a physical blow: his musk, her arousal, the mingled reek of their coupling saturating the air until I can taste it coating my tongue. "Elise..." Elara's voice. Broken. Behind me. I don't turn. Can't. If I see her right now, splayed on the dirt, cunt gaping and dripping, body still twitching from an orgasm wrung out by THIS creature, I'll kill him anyway. Kill him and damn myself to wear this flesh until the day I die. "Let him-" She hiccups a sob. "Let him *finish*. Please. He said-said after, he'd-" "*Elara.*" "I know how it SOUNDS!" Her voice cracks into something raw. "But he's right-he CAN'T think when he's-when the rut is-I've SEEN it! He just keeps GOING until-" Snib's warty hand CRACKS across my left breast before I can react. The pain is SHOCKING: these grotesque milk-heavy udders have no armor, no protection, soft flesh that RIPPLES from the impact. My grip loosens for one instant and he SQUIRMS free, cackling. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK! See? Can't even HOLD a goblin proper!" He dances backward, cock swinging obscenely. "Yer a JOKE in that body, hero! All them muscles turned to TITS and ARSE!" "*VENTUSFURY!*" The wind surges again, weaker this time. The Bone-Seer's gifts cost SOMETHING, and I've been casting all day. He stumbles but doesn't fall. "Magic's FADIN', ain't it?" His yellow eyes gleam with renewed confidence. "Here's the DEAL, titcow. Ye let me finish what I started-" He gestures at Elara with his dripping cock. "-and THEN we talk terms. Try to stop me, and I'll NEVER release ye. Never say them words. Ye can cut off me cock and balls and STILL be stuck in that meat-suit forever." The truth of it settles in my chest like swallowed lead. I could kill him. RIGHT NOW. Whisperwind would part his skull like overripe fruit. The collar sleeps. It couldn't stop me, couldn't strangle me, couldn't end my life the moment his ended. But then what? I'd be *Elise* until I rotted. This body with its obscene curves and treacherous responses. These breasts that bounce when I breathe. This cunt that clenches at smells I should find revolting. I'd return to Eboncrest as a stranger wearing my own wife's grief. I'd watch Elara mourn Aldric while sleeping beside someone she barely recognizes. And there's no *certainty* the silence would hold. The Seer said days, perhaps a week. What if the collar wakes the moment his heart stops? What if I die anyway, choking on cold iron while his corpse cools? "Ye've got FIVE heartbeats to decide," Snib says, already turning toward Elara. "Then I'm finishin' me business either way." My hand trembles on Whisperwind's hilt. Behind me, I hear Elara shift on the dirt floor. Hear the wet sound of her thighs parting. Hear her voice, my WIFE'S voice, thick with pheromones and shame: "Just... let him. Please, Elise. It's only a few more minutes. Then we can talk. Then we can figure this out." *Only a few more minutes.* As if time measured in goblin-thrusts means nothing. As if I didn't witness her SCREAMING her release on the cock of the creature who destroyed everything I was. Snib waddles toward her, that massive green shaft bobbing with each step, and I-(simple_option:"04 aftermath negotiation","Lower your sword.","Kill him.","matters")]

(if:$choice is "Kill him.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")The decision arrives not as thought but as *certainty*: the way a hawk knows when to strike, the way lightning knows where earth waits. Snib turns his warty back to me. The last mistake he'll ever make. I feel it with crystalline clarity: this creature will NEVER release me. Not after ten thousand gold. Not after a lifetime of degradation. The collar was wrought by ancients who understood treachery in all its forms. It would never permit a slave to torture freedom from her master. And goblins? Goblins are creatures of appetite and cruelty. He'd keep us both until we rotted, wringing every drop of humiliation from our flesh until nothing remained but husks. He's reaching for Elara, his cock bobbing toward her splayed thighs- My blade enters between his shoulder blades and emerges through his chest in a spray of blood that paints the wall like some profane artist's final work. His yellow eyes bulge. His mouth opens in a perfect O of surprise. A wet gurgle escapes: the sound of a creature discovering mortality has finally caught up with all its works. "HRUK-?" "For making me WATCH while you destroyed everything beautiful in my life," I whisper in his ear as I twist the blade. He collapses forward, and I follow him down, keeping Whisperwind buried to the hilt as his knees buckle. Blood pools beneath him, mixing with the dirt and cum and shame that already stains this floor. His cock, that massive instrument of our torment, deflates like a punctured wine-skin, shrinking to nothing as his life pours out. The collar remains silent against my throat. *It worked. The silence holds.* Snib's fingers twitch once. Twice. Then nothing. Elara SCREAMS. She scrambles backward on the dirt, her legs refusing to work properly, cum still dripping from her well-fucked pussy as she stares at his corpse with eyes that can't quite focus. "Dead-he's DEAD-oh Flux what did you-the smell is FADING-" I'm at her side before she can collapse, catching her against my chest. These obscene breasts finally serve a PURPOSE as I cradle her head against them, let her sob into the valley between them while I stroke her autumn hair with hands that still shake from the violence. "It's over," I whisper, though I know it isn't. Not truly. "He can't hurt us anymore." "The things I did-" Her voice breaks. "The things I BEGGED him for-Elise, I'm so sorry, I couldn't stop, the smell got in my HEAD and made everything feel-" "Shhh." I rock her gently, the way she used to rock me after nightmares. "You'll be yourself again soon." Together, we dress her. I find her traveling clothes, help her trembling arms through the sleeves, lace her boots while she stares at nothing. Then, without words, we each take one of Snib's ankles. We drag him outside. The night air hits clean, cold, free of the rank musk that's saturated everything for so long. Stars wheel overhead, ancient and indifferent to our small tragedy and smaller victory. We haul his corpse past the lean-to where Jarkrond watches with amber eyes, past the well, to the patch of sand where we've been burning refuse. I heap dried brush around his body. Old wood from the dead olive tree. Scraps of cloth still reeking of his seed. Everything that bears his mark, his stench, his memory. "Ignisurge." Fire blooms from my palm, another gift the silenced collar cannot stop. It catches the kindling instantly, and within moments Snib's pyre blazes against the darkness, sending sparks spiraling toward stars that witnessed the forging of my prison and now witness the burning of my captor. I reach for the clasps of this cursed armor. The black scales come off. I stand naked in the firelight, and for the first time since Ironrock Mines, I don't feel ashamed of this body. I cast the armor onto the flames. It glows, cherry-red then white-hot, scales fusing together into something unrecognizable. "You'll be... Elise... forever?" Elara's voice. She's stopped crying, standing beside me in her simple traveling garb, watching the flames consume the creature who consumed so much of us. "Yes." She takes my hand. Her fingers are still sticky with... things I don't want to name. But her grip is STRONG. "You're still you," she says fiercely. "I watched you fight today, even from inside, drugged on his stench. I could see Aldric in every swing of that blade. You saved *both* of us." "I condemned myself-" "You chose me over your own body." She turns to face me fully, firelight dancing in her beautiful blue eyes. "You chose ending him over the chance of freedom. That's the most Aldric thing you could have done." We stand together, watching Snib's corpse blacken and crack. The smell is indescribable: like burning swamp gas mixed with charred meat. But underneath, something sweeter: the clean smoke of honest wood, the mineral scent of superheated sand. "What do we do now?" Elara asks. I consider. The collar still circles my throat, silent but present. When its sleep ends, tomorrow, next sennight, next month, what then? Will it seek a new master? Will it simply become inert metal? Will it kill me anyway, fulfilling its ancient purpose even in the absence of the one who held my leash? "We go home," I say finally.(simple_option:"04 life together elara elise","Your fate is decided.")($play:"song","procession music")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"sex loop",0)](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")($play:"song","too little too late")($play:"sex loop","elara fuck 2")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.05,"periodMs",750,"forever",true))I watch Snib waddle back toward Elara, that massive green shaft BOBBING with each step, still glistening with my wife's shame, still ANGRY-hard from being denied his rut. His warty ass flexes as he positions himself over her again, and Elara, my WIFE, my autumn-haired beauty who once refused to even KISS me if I hadn't bathed, parts her thighs wider to receive him, her pink pussy lips already PUFFY and drooling clear ribbons of need. "There's a good hero," he cackles over his shoulder at me. "Watch close now, titcow. Watch how a REAL male claims what's his!" He doesn't kneel between her legs like a man would, doesn't even show that basic dignity. He SQUATS over her like a toad preparing to shit, his scrawny green thighs spread wide, that massive breeding-pole pointing straight DOWN at her splayed cunt like a battering ram aimed at castle gates. The position is DEGRADING beyond words. "Please-" Elara whimpers, her voice high and broken, and I can't tell if she's begging him to stop or to HURRY. Her sapphire eyes find mine across the hut, wet with tears and something worse: raw, animal NEED that makes her pupils blow wide. "Elise, I'm sorry, I tried to resist but his SMELL, a week of it, it gets in your HEAD, makes you want things you shouldn't-" "Shut yer cum-hole, freckle-tits," Snib grunts, gripping his cock with both hands to AIM it at her entrance. "Time fer yer DAILY BREEDIN'." The head of his cock kisses her pussy lips with a wet SMACK, and they PART for him immediately, like they've been trained, like they recognize their master. Her labia are SWOLLEN, flushed angry-red with arousal, absolutely GLAZED with her own wetness that's been building since-since when? How long has she been lying here WET for him while I was fighting for our freedom? "AHHHHHNNNN-!" (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/snib mounts elara.jpg") The sound that rips from Elara's throat is the noise a castle gate makes when it YIELDS: hinges finally BUCKLING as something MASSIVE forces its way through. Even as her mouth shapes that raw animal howl, her hips LIFT off the packed dirt floor. Her spine ARCHES into a bridge. Those beautiful dancer's legs, the same legs she once wrapped around ME on our wedding night, draw back toward her chest until her knees press against her own modest breasts. The tendons in her inner thighs stand out like lute-strings as she STRAINS herself wider, WIDER. Her body performs the ancient geometry of a female PRESENTING herself for insemination by a dominant male, and the dominant male is three feet eight inches of warty green FILTH currently DROPPING his full weight onto her cunt like a mason dropping a cornerstone. *SCHLORRRRK-GLUPPP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:200,0.20),(a:500,0.15),(a:800,0.10),(a:1100,0.08),"resumeAfter",true))) The sound of entry is FILTHY beyond language: the wet, meaty, SUCKING noise of twelve inches of crooked goblin cock-meat being SWALLOWED by my wife's married cunt in one savage downward PLUNGE. I watch. Flux DAMN me, I WATCH. Her labia STRETCH around that grey-green girth, those delicate pink inner lips CLINGING to his veiny shaft on every millimetre of penetration like they're trying to KISS it, trying to WELCOME it, her pussy literally MOUTHING his cock as it sinks home. Her flat belly TENTS upward. I can see the SHAPE of him through her skin, that crooked ridge PRESSING against her abdominal wall from the INSIDE, and her whole body JOLTS as he bottoms out against her cervix with a meaty *THUMP* that I feel through the FLOOR. "HRRRRK-tight as a FIST, this one-" Snib's grunt is barely words anymore: raw breeding-fever vocalization, the sound a stud-hog makes when the sow finally ACCEPTS. His scrawny green thighs are spread wide in a SQUAT over her pelvis, his warty feet planted on either side of her hips, and his ass PUMPS downward with a violence that shouldn't be possible from something so SMALL- *PLAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.12,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",700,"forever",true)) *PLAP.* *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-* Each downward stroke drives his cock COMPLETELY into her body and his ballsack, fat, hairy, each testicle swollen to the size of a Valarian plum, CRASHES against her upturned asshole with a WET leather-on-stone CRACK that leaves her perineum REDDENING before my eyes. Her ass-cheeks are being POUNDED against the packed earth so hard they RIPPLE on every impact, that sweet peach-shaped rear that I used to cup gently in my palms now being used as a CUSHION for goblin-fucking. "HNNGH-HNNGH-HNNGH-" "AH-AH-AH-AH-" Their sounds MERGE. His guttural pig-squeals. Her high broken gasps. The WET percussion of his cock churning her insides into froth. The SLAP-SLAP-SLAP of his balls baptizing her asshole in their sweat. The SQUELCH of displaced fluid SPRAYING from around his shaft on every outstroke. I can SEE it, gods help me, a fine mist of her arousal being PUMPED out of her by the piston-action of his meat, spattering the dirt between her spread thighs in a growing PUDDLE that catches firelight like spilled honey. And beneath all of it, a WETTER sound: deep, internal, BIOLOGICAL, the sound of her cervix being RAMMED open and KISSED shut, RAMMED and KISSED, RAMMED and KISSED. *GLUCK-SCHLUCK-GLUCK-SCHLUCK-GLUCK-*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.16,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",650,"forever",true)) My hand is still on Whisperwind's hilt. I can feel the corrupted steel HUMMING against my palm, feel it WANTING to drink goblin blood, and the collar around my throat is DEAD SILENT: asleep, unknowing, unable to stop me from crossing this room in three steps and driving the blade through his pumping green spine. I could end this creature between one heartbeat and the next.(simple_option:"04 dont move","But you don't move.")]

($play:"song","too little too late")($play:"ambience","desert ambience night fire")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/elara orgasm.jpg","right")Elara's face has gone SLACK as he flips her over. That fierce jaw I fell in love with is hanging OPEN, a thin silver strand of drool connecting her lower lip to the dirt beside her head. Her eyes have rolled UPWARD until only crescents of blue remain beneath fluttering copper lashes. The FLUSH has spread from her cheeks down her throat, across her freckled chest, turning her fair skin BLOTCHY with the unmistakable heat-map of a woman being fucked toward something she cannot control. Her hands are GRIPPING his warty green forearms, and they're not pushing him AWAY.(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",600,"forever",true)) *Oh, Eon remember me-* Her pelvis *TILTS* to change the angle, to let him hit DEEPER, and each time their bodies COLLIDE there's a WET *CLOP* of her swollen cunt-lips KISSING the root of his shaft, her pussy literally SUCKING at him, MILKING him, her inner walls doing something that makes his yellow eyes roll back and a SQUEAL rip from his throat that sounds like a pig finding the choicest truffle in the forest. "HRRRRK-SQUEEZE me like THAT again-HRRRRK-that's it, WIFEY-yer cunt knows who OWNS it-" "SHUT-AHHH-shut UP and just-HNNNGH-just FINISH-" Her voice has no steel left. It's *molten*. Even as she says *finish*, her legs are HOOKING around his scrawny waist, her hips describing CIRCLES around his embedded cock like she's trying to SCREW him deeper, trying to get his cockhead past her cervix and into her WOMB where it can- I can't breathe. My chest is constricted not by the collar but by my ribs CRACKING open. This beautiful woman, this HERBALIST who grew rosemary on our windowsill and sang hymns to Flux while she STITCHED wounded soldiers, is WRITHING on the packed-earth floor of a goblin's hovel with her legs locked around a creature I've killed so many of, her copper hair PLASTERED to her sweating face in dark streaks, her neck CORDED with strain as she throws her head BACK- The SMELL is everywhere now. His rut-musk, thick as curdled butter, layered over her cunt-scent which has gone DARK and FERAL, and beneath both a new smell I've never encountered: the chemical stink of COMPATIBILITY, of two organisms whose reproductive systems are speaking a language that doesn't give a SHIT about love or honour or marriage vows sworn beneath Eon's hourglass. (hidden_gem:"This smell SAYS what their mouths won't: that her body has decided. That her WOMB has decided. That the argument is already OVER and all that remains is the DELIVERY.","This smell whispers what their mouths won't-that her womb has woken, that her wetness has won, that the war between will and want was waged and lost in the warm, wretched wilderness between her widening thighs.") *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-* "HRRRRRRK-gonna NUT-gonna FILL this married CUNT-gonna BREED yer wife's BELLY full of GOBBO-GETS, hero-HRRRRK-and ye're just gonna STAND there and WATCH-" "DON'T-" Elara's voice CRACKS into a register I've never heard from her. "DON'T cum inside-you said you'd PULL-AHHHHHH-AHHHHHH FUCK IT'S TOO-" Her whole body SEIZES. I watch it happen in the SLOWEST time I've ever experienced: slower than the Wyrm's death-throes, slower than the moment Whisperwind first sang in my hand. Elara's spine rises off the floor like a drawn longbow. Her toes CURL so hard the joints POP. Her fingers CLAW into his flesh deep enough to draw GREENISH blood. Her mouth OPENS in a silent SCREAM that goes on and on and ON until finally sound CATCHES UP with sensation and she SHRIEKS- "CUMMING-OH GODS-CUMMING ON HIS-I CAN'T-ELISE I CAN'T STOP-I'M SO SORRY-I CAN'T-STOP-CUMMING-SO-HARD-" And I watch her SQUIRT. A pressurized SPRAY of clear fluid *jets* from around his cock-shaft in rhythmic PULSES, spattering his belly, his balls, the floor, turning the puddle into a FLOOD. Her cunt is CONVULSING around him so hard I can see the RIPPLES through her belly-skin, her internal muscles CLAMPING and RELEASING in visible WAVES that MILK his cock like a hand WRINGING a cloth, and Snib's face goes SLACK. "HRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK-TAKE IT-TAKE ME FUCKIN' SEED-" His balls CLENCH visibly, drawing up TIGHT against his body, the skin going TAUT, and his cock SWELLS inside her so dramatically that her belly-bulge gets THICKER, WIDER, and then I hear it- (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/breed elara.jpg") (sperm:"BLORRRRRT",5,"splurt 3 internal")The sound of a wineskin being SQUEEZED until the stopper fails. THICK, CHUNKY, WET: the sound of goblin seed being PUMPED directly into my wife's womb. His hips SLAM down one final time- (sperm:"GLORRRP-SPLORT-BLURRRRRT",4,"splurt 6")-and CUM begins FORCING itself back out around his shaft because there's simply NO MORE ROOM, oozing in yellow-white ROPES down her perineum, pooling in the crack of her ass, DRIPPING from his fat hairy balls in viscous STRANDS that stretch toward the puddle below. "HNNGH-HNNGH-HNNGH-" Each grunt from Snib is another PUMP, another mass of dense gobbo goo forced into her, his balls contracting in visible SPASMS as they EMPTY themselves into my wife's unprotected reproductive system. (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/5.png")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0))))*Whisperwind falls from my fingers.* The blade hits the dirt with a CLANG that neither of them hear over the wet SQUELCHING. My knees are SHAKING. My whole body is shaking. These massive tits are HEAVING with each ragged breath I take. Between my own thighs, between the thighs of the body that used to be ALDRIC THE GREAT, something CLENCHES with such force that I nearly double over, a THROB of unwanted lust so powerful it feels like being STABBED(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",3,"peakFrom",0.45,"peakTo",0.20,"gapFrom",400,"gapTo",600,"attackMs",35,"holdMs",60,"releaseMs",80,"gapIntensity",0.04,"peakCurve","sharp","aftershocks",0)), and I CANNOT admit what happened inside me while I watched the creature that destroyed my life BREED my wife on a dirt floor. *SCHLORRRRRRRRRRRP.* Snib PULLS free. The sound is thick, WET, FINAL: like pulling a cork from a barrel that's been fermenting too long. His cock emerges GLISTENING, still half-hard, ROPES of yellowed seed connecting his cockhead to Elara's GAPING cunt in strands that stretch and SAG and finally SNAP as he waddles backward. And then, without his cock to PLUG the hole- (sperm:"BLOOOORRRRRT",5,"splurt 4")A TIDE of steaming goblin cum FLOODS from between her legs. Thick as porridge, yellowed-white, absolutely REEKING of that concentrated breeding-musk that coats the inside of my nostrils. It pools beneath her upturned ass in a LAKE of spent seed, steaming gently in the firelight, and Elara LIES there: legs still spread, copper hair fanned in the dirt, her pussy still TWITCHING with aftershocks that make little SPURTS of cum BLURT out of her with each contraction. The musk made her feverish. This leaves her peaceful. Her hand drifts to her belly. Whatever he put there, her body already treasures it. She looks RUINED. She looks BEAUTIFUL. She looks like a painting of a saint that someone has DEFACED with mud and filth, the original masterwork still visible beneath layers of DESECRATION. Snib hunches near her. He shakes his softening cock twice, a gesture so CASUAL, so CONTEMPTUOUS that it makes me want to SCREAM, and globlets of mixed fluids SPLATTER across her inner thigh. (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elara creampied.jpg")(simple_option:"04 final bargain","Then he turns to you.")

($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/2.png")"Ye wanted to discuss *terms*, titcow?" He says it the way a merchant says it after the customer has already touched the goods. Casual. Certain. (hidden_gem:"His cock hangs soft between his thighs now, still glossy with my wife's fluids, swinging like a pendulum of spent meat as he waddles.","His cock hangs between his thighs-monstrous even at middling mast, still marinated in my wife's married moisture, swinging like a meaty metronome marking each moment of my mounting mortification as he meanders toward me.") I open my mouth to speak and nothing comes out. My throat has gone dry as sand-scoured bone. My breath is coming in shallow little *pulls*: a sprinter's breathing, except I've been standing still. Standing still while- "Gotta say," Snib continues, "nothin' quite like nuttin' in a *real* woman. All warm and grabby on the inside." He glances back at Elara, who is- Who is *standing up.* She rises from the dirt floor with a slow, dreaming grace that makes my stomach drop through the earth. Cum runs in thick rivulets down her inner thighs, yellowed-white against her pale freckled skin, pooling at her ankles, and she does not cover herself. She pushes copper hair from her face with one hand and *steadies herself against the central post*. As she passes Snib- Her fingers brush his shoulder. *Absently.* The way you'd touch a piece of furniture you've grown accustomed to navigating around. "Now then." Snib turns back to me, drying his hands on his loincloth. "Ye killed the whole Sandwalker tribe today, that right?" "The warriors," I whisper. My voice sounds like it belongs to someone drowning. "In that body, no less." He whistles through his broken teeth. "With them *udders* floppin' about." He shakes his head with what might be genuine admiration. "Maybe ye really *were* a hero, deep down under all that tit-meat." "I *am* a hero." My fingers are curling and uncurling at my sides, and there's a tremor running through them that has nothing to do with battle-fatigue. "Aye, maybe." He scratches behind one pointed ear. "Here's the thing, though. Collar's sleepin', right? But ye can't *force* me to say the words, else ye woulda killed me already." He looks at me. I look at him. "I've had me a real *woman*-" He jerks his thumb toward Elara. "-and she were *lovely*, fire-cunt was. But what I *really* want..." His yellow eyes travel down my body with the appraising slowness of a horse-trader examining stock. Down the ridiculous swell of my chest where my nipples have hardened against the scale-cups until they *ache*, ache with a ferocity that makes me want to claw the armour off. Down the cinch of my waist. Down the flare of my hips to where my thighs are pressed together so tightly the muscles burn. "...is to *breed a humie hero.*" The words drop like stones into still water. "Someone what just did *violence.* Got all that battle-blood still pumpin'." "You're *insane*," I breathe. "Breed ye both, then ye *ask* me proper, and I'll speak the release. On the collar's own binding. I'll *swear* it." The collar *hums*. Even dormant, it recognises the shape of an oath being formed.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:500,0.16),(a:1000,0.22),(a:1500,0.26),(a:2000,0.22),(a:2500,0.16),(a:3000,0.10),(a:3500,0.06),(a:4000,0)))) It cannot kill me or harm me, but the higher level of curse-magic is still active. "I should just k-kill you." "Then ye're *this*-" He gestures at my body. "-forever. And the collar wakes up with no master, and who *knows* what old magic does then. Maybe it finds a *new* one. Maybe it *kills* ye slow. Maybe ye live a hundred years in that meat-suit, watchin' yer wife grow old, never able to touch her proper again." Silence. The fire crackles.(simple_option:"04 elara coos","And then, Elara is beside you.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")She's *warm.* That's what I notice first: the warmth radiating from her bare skin(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",2400,"forever",true)), and beneath it the smell. She smells like *him* now. My mouth floods with saliva. I swallow it down before she can hear me gulp. "Elise." Her voice is low and slow, each syllable wrapped in something soft. Post-coital tenderness. The voice of a woman who's been *fucked quiet.* "Look at me." I look. (pic:"ch04/bad end/pupils.jpg","Beneath that glaze there's something *real* looking back at me.") Her eyes are still blown wide, but beneath that glaze there's something *real* looking back at me. Something that remembers our garden. Our kitchen. The way morning light fell through our bedroom window in Eboncrest. "It's just one more thing," she says, and takes my hand. Her fingers are sticky. "Just *one* more, and then we go *home.* We plant the rosemary. We fix the fence. We *forget* this place ever existed." Her thumb traces circles on my palm. A gesture from our old life(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.05,"periodMs",1800,"forever",true)). Something she used to do when I came home from campaign, when I was wound tight with battle-nerves and couldn't sleep. "I survived it." She squeezes my hand. A drop of something warm tracks down her inner thigh and lands on my bare foot. "You'll survive it too. You're *stronger* than me." A ghost of a smile. "You've always been stronger." "She's *fine*, ain't she?" Snib says from across the hut. "And yer a *hero.* Surely a hero can take a little gobbo-ruttin' without fallin' apart." I look at Elara and she *is* smiling at me, that gentle herbalist's smile, but her eyes are glassy and there's a thread of goblin seed drying at the corner of her mouth that she hasn't wiped away. "It's not so bad," she murmurs, "once you stop fighting it."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:300,0.04),(a:600,0.02),(a:1000,0)))) (hidden_gem:"The words pierce me like an arrow through plate. *Once you stop fighting it.* As if my wife, my *Elara*, hasn't just described the exact mechanism by which every conquered people in history was broken.","The words fall through my flesh like fire through frost-finding every fissure, every fracture, every fault-line I'd fashioned into fortification, and flooding them with the flat, final truth of a fallen thing. *Once you stop fighting it.* As if my wife, my *Elara*, hasn't just described the exact formula by which every conquered people in history was finished.") Snib's cock twitches. A lazy, half-hearted flexion of meat that makes it bob against his thigh, and even *soft* it's as thick as my wrist, hanging nearly to his knee, a monstrous thing that shouldn't exist on a creature this small. "Swear it," I hear myself say. My voice is barely a whisper. There is a *weight* settling low in my belly: a heaviness like swallowed stones. My skin has gone to gooseflesh despite the heat of the hut, and my own scent, that treacherous, honeyed scent, has thickened around me until I can taste green pear and night-jasmine on my own tongue. "On the collar," Snib says, and something in the iron at my throat *resonates* like a struck bell. "I'll fuck ye proper, till I'm satisfied. And after-*when* ye ask me to speak the release-I'll say the words." He means it. Whatever else he is, rapist, slaver, monster, he means *this.* Elara's hand tightens on mine. Her body is pressed against my side now, her modest breasts against my arm, her breath warm on my shoulder, and she's whispering *please, love, please just say yes, I want to go home, I want our life back-* I look at Whisperwind lying in the dirt. I look at Snib's soft cock. I look at my wife's ruined, *radiant* face.(simple_option:"04 final final choice","'...swear it again. On the collar.'","Pick up Whisperwind. Kill him.")

(if:$choice is "'...swear it again. On the collar.'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")(change_stat:"heroism",-20)My knees hit dirt before the decision reaches my tongue. The sound that comes out of me is the noise a doe makes when the hunter's arrow finds her flank and she *knows* that running won't help anymore. My hands fly to my face and I sob into them, shoulders heaving, these massive breasts lurching and shuddering with each wretched gasp, tears streaming through my fingers and dripping from my chin onto the swell of pale flesh below. (pic:"ch04/bad end/collapse.jpg","'I c-can't-I tried so *hard*-'") "I c-can't-I tried so *hard*-" Snot runs freely. I sound like every weeping maiden I ever rescued from every tower and dungeon across Valaria, and the recognition of that, the *symmetry*, makes me sob harder. Gentle hands find my face. "Shhh." Elara kneels before me, her thumbs wiping tears from my cheeks with the same patient care she'd use dressing a wound. "Shhh, love. It's almost over. You've been so *brave*." I look up at her through blurred eyes. Her face is soft with tenderness, open and warm, and for one breath I'm back in Eboncrest, back in our kitchen, and she's telling me to stop worrying about the harvest tax and just *come to bed-* She stands. Her fingers thread through my hair, gentle, guiding, and she draws my face forward. The inside of her thigh presses against my cheek, warm and sticky, and the smell hits me before I understand what's happening. Something *thick*. Fungal. *Alive.* (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/drink.jpg","right")"Drink, love." Her voice floats down from above me, dreamy and kind. "You'll need your strength." Her pussy presses against my mouth. "*MMMPH-!*"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.15),(a:300,0.25),(a:600,0.35),(a:1000,0.40),(a:1400,0.36),(a:1800,0.32),(a:2200,0.28),(a:2600,0.24),(a:3000,0.20)))) I try to pull back, hands flying to her hips, head jerking, but she holds me *firm*, her fingers tightening in my hair, and in the instant my lips parted to protest, something *thick* oozes between them and coats my tongue. *Hot.* Dense as rendered tallow. The texture of beeswax left too near a hearth: half-solid, half-liquid, *clinging.* It *crawls* across my palate, finds the gaps between my teeth, seals itself against the roof of my mouth like mortar poured between stones. "Shhhh-*shhhh*-don't fight." Her hand strokes my hair. "Just swallow. It makes everything... easier. I promise." I gag. My throat LOCKS. The taste is-(playwhenread:"elise cum swallow") Iron. Mushroom-cellar. The bottom of a tidal pool where things *grow* in the dark. And beneath all of it, a taste my jaw recognizes before my mind does: ancient, commanding, the flavor of *shut up and swallow*, and my jaw goes *slack* against my will, makes my throat *open* when it should clench shut. "There you go," Elara breathes, and I feel her belly tense as she *squeezes*, her inner muscles contracting, pushing out what's been pooled deep inside her. (sperm:"Shhlllp",3,"splurt 1 internal",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:500,0.36),(a:1000,0.42),(a:1500,0.46),(a:2000,0.48),(a:2500,0.44),(a:3000,0.38),(a:3500,0.30),(a:4000,0.22),(a:5000,0.14),(a:6000,0.08),(a:7000,0))))A thick rope of it slides across my tongue. Clotted. *Chunky.* Like curdled cream strained through cheesecloth: dense little nodules of concentrated seed that break apart and release fresh waves of that *taste*, that annihilating taste that turns my thoughts to warm fog. "Every drop I squeeze out," she murmurs above me, her voice catching on a sigh as her pussy *clenches* and another glob pushes free, "is one that can't... *mmm*... can't take root in me." (sperm:"Shlp",2,"splurt 2 internal")I swallow. (hidden_gem:"The seed slithers into my stomach. Then, it *reaches*-tendrils of warmth climbing my spine the way morning glory climbs a trellis, questing upward, finding purchase in the spaces between my vertebrae, and when it reaches the base of my skull something behind my eyes goes *soft.* Like a scribe dragging his blade across vellum to scrape away old ink and prepare the surface for new words.","The seed travels to my stomach, then the tendrils take hold-twisting, threading, taking their time through each trembling tier of my spine like a terrible trellis-vine, patient and thorough, climbing toward the tender tissue at the top of my skull where thinking lives, and when it touches that last trembling threshold, thought itself turns to tallow.") (sperm:"Shlp... shlp... shlp",3,"splurt 3 internal")"Oh," Elara sighs. "*Oh*, there's so much of it still..." Her hips roll gently against my face. Each contraction of her inner walls pushes out a different *texture*: thin and watery at first, the overflow, tinged with her own slickness; then thicker ropes that stretch from her opening to my lower lip before *snapping* wetly; and finally the deep stuff, the womb-seed, hot as broth and so dense it sits on my tongue like a stone and has to be *chewed* before my throat will accept it. The clots are almost *gristly*: packed so tight with whatever makes goblin seed goblin seed that they resist my teeth for a moment before bursting like overripe berries, flooding my mouth with a concentrated *potency* that makes my vision swim. "You're doing so well, my love."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.16,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",2000,"forever",true)) (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/drank.jpg","'You're doing so well, my love.'") I am *drinking goblin cum from my wife's freshly-bred pussy* and she is *praising* me for it. The hut tilts. Steadies. Tilts again. My fingers have forgotten how to make fists. They're *resting* on her thighs now, thumbs tracing idle circles on her skin the way she traced circles on my palm moments ago. My own scent has thickened around me until I'm *drowning* in it: gone overripe, gone *syrupy*, the green pear curdled to bruised quince, the jasmine blooming so heavy and indolic that even the reek of goblin seed bends around it. Elara pulls away. A final strand of cloudy fluid stretches between her slit and my lower lip, thinning to gossamer before it breaks. She looks down at me with those blown-dark eyes and smiles the way she smiled on our wedding day. "Good girl," she whispers.](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(playwhenread:"draw sword")My hand finds Whisperwind. The hilt is warm from lying near the fire, and when my fingers close around it, something in my chest IGNITES: Aldric's rage, Aldric's honour, Aldric's sacred vow to protect Elara from every crawling thing that might soil her, and I am *rising*, I am rising with murder singing through my blood and the blade coming up in an arc that will split that warty skull like a- Elara *steps* into the path of my sword-arm the way she used to step into the path of a draught when I'd left the cottage window open, calmly, as if correcting something I'd forgotten. Her bare chest presses against mine. Her hands find my wrists. Her fingers are still sticky, and the warmth of her skin bleeds through to the bone. "Shhhh." One syllable. The sound she made when I'd wake gasping from the dreams, when the war followed me into sleep and I couldn't tell stone ceiling from dragon-belly. She'd hold my face between her palms and make that sound until the shaking stopped. "Shhh, love. Put it down." My arm trembles. Whisperwind trembles. She's *between* me and Snib, her body a shield of freckled skin and goblin-glazed thighs, and I would have to move her to reach him, would have to *choose* violence against her to achieve violence against him. The sword-point dips. Dips further. Touches dirt once more. (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/drink.jpg","right")Her hands slide from my wrists to my shoulders, and she presses, *gently*, the way you guide a horse's head toward water, and my knees fold beneath me like they've been waiting for permission. The packed earth meets my shins. Whisperwind clatters from my grip. I'm kneeling. "There," she whispers. "That's better." She's standing over me now, and the firelight catches the slow trail of seed still *leaking* from between her thighs: a thick, yellowed thread that stretches and drops and stretches again, landing on the dirt near my knee. The smell of it rises. Salt-brine and mushroom-dark and something *alive* beneath it all, something that wriggles through my sinuses like smoke filling a sealed room. "No-" My voice comes out strangled. "No, I can't-Elara, don't-" "Shhh." Her fingers card through my black hair, gentle as rainfall. "Listen to me. Listen." She tilts my chin upward until I'm looking at her face, flushed, glassy-eyed, *beautiful* in a way that makes my chest ache. "Any of his seed I squeeze out now... that you take from me... can't take root. Can't quicken." She cups my jaw. "You'll be *protecting* me." Her hips shift forward. "Elara-*please*-" "Just open your mouth, love." Her fingers press against her own lower belly. A slow, deliberate *push*. Her inner muscles CONTRACT. I can see the ripple travel through her abdomen, and her pussy *clenches* and- (sperm:"Glorrrrp",3,"splurt 4")A thick rope of goblin seed OOZES from between her flushed lips, heavy as rendered tallow, stretching in a long pendulous strand toward my upturned face. It's *warm* when it hits my lower lip. Warm as forge-water. The taste is IMMEDIATE and CATASTROPHIC: dense brine and copper-tang and beneath that a sweetness like overripe fruit left to ferment in summer heat, and it coats my tongue in a *film* that won't wash away, that SINKS into the soft tissue beneath my tongue and begins to *work*. "*MMFH*-" I try to pull back. My hands fly to her hips but they don't PUSH. They just... rest there. Trembling. "Shhh. Shhh. Good girl. *Swallow.*"(playwhenread:"elise cum swallow") I do. The seed slides down my throat like warm honey poured through a keyhole: thick enough that I feel it the entire way down, feel it *coating* everything it touches, and something in my skull goes SOFT. Like parchment left in rain, like mortar between stones that's been slowly, patiently dissolved by root-water seeping through cracks too small to see. She sighs. A long, shuddering exhalation of *relief*, as though voiding herself of his seed brings its own dark pleasure. Her hand strokes my hair. "There. See? Not so terrible." She squeezes again. Her abdominal wall *flexes*. (sperm:"Squelllch",3,"splurt 3")This time it's thicker: clotted, curdled, the consistency of cream left overnight in a cold cellar. It GLOBS onto my tongue in a heavy mass that I have to *work* with my jaw, have to press against my palate to break apart, and when I do the taste INTENSIFIES tenfold. Each clot releases concentrated goblin musk that soaks through my gums, my cheeks, finds the blood-vessels beneath the thin skin and ENTERS my bloodstream like ink dropped into clear water, spreading, spreading, turning every clear thought *cloudy*. "HRRK." Snib's grunt from across the hut. Watching. "That's it," Elara murmurs above me, her thumb tracing my cheekbone. "That's my brave hero. You can take it. You can take anything." *Sigh.* She bears down again- (sperm:"Blurrrt",2,"splurt 1")-and a final *gush* of thinner, warmer fluid floods my mouth, carrying with it the last clinging strands of his seed mixed with her own slick, and I *drink*, I drink because my throat won't stop swallowing, won't stop *pulling* it down, and each mouthful pours more of that smoke-in-a-sealed-room warmth through my limbs until my fingers are tingling, until my nipples *throb* against the scale-cups with a ferocity that makes me whimper against her mound. (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/drank.jpg","'You're doing so well, my love.'") She looks down at me. Pushes my hair from my face. "Good. You're doing so well."](simple_option:"04 she readies him","Then she crawls back to Snib.")($play:"sex loop",0)

($play:"sex loop","quiet bj")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")She turns from me, and I watch-I *watch*-as she crawls across the packed-dirt floor toward Snib on her hands and knees, her ass swaying, her spine a perfect feline curve, cum still glistening on her inner thighs. She reaches him and settles onto her heels and takes his soft cock in both hands with a familiarity that tells me *this is not the first time she has held him like this.* (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/elara corrupted.png","The way she used to taste soup from a wooden spoon.") Her tongue emerges, pink, precise, and traces the topside of his shaft from root to tip in one long, *loving* stroke. The way she used to taste soup from a wooden spoon to check the seasoning: *thoughtful.* Her other hand cups his sack from beneath, fingers gentle on those heavy, wrinkled plums, and she *kneads* them with the same careful pressure she'd use grinding herbs in her mortar. "HRRRK..." Snib's eyes half-close. "That's it, fire-cunt... get me good and stiff fer yer *wifey.*" *Shlrrrp.* Her lips close around his cockhead. *Shlrrrp.* She pulls back, a strand of spit connecting them. *Shlrrrp.* Back down, her cheeks hollowing. He *grows* in her hands. I can see it happening: inch by inch, the cock *thickening*, *lengthening*, the veins rising to the surface like rivers swelling after rain. Six inches. Eight. Ten. Still growing, still filling, her jaw stretching wider as his girth increases, and the sound she's making around his cock is a *hum*: a low, continuous, *contented* hum, like a woman warming herself by a fire on a cold night. I'm trembling. My hands move to the clasps of my scale-armour. I don't tell them to. They *go*, finding the catches at my shoulders, my ribs, my hips, and the black scales fall away piece by piece, each one hitting dirt with a small *clink* that sounds like a coin being counted. *Clink.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:150,0.18),(a:320,0.22),(a:480,0.12),(a:640,0.15),(a:790,0.06),(a:940,0.08),(a:1080,0.02),(a:1250,0)))) The left cup falls. My breast DROPS free, the sudden weight of it pulling my whole torso forward. *Clink.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:150,0.18),(a:320,0.22),(a:480,0.12),(a:640,0.15),(a:790,0.06),(a:940,0.08),(a:1080,0.02),(a:1250,0)))) The right cup falls. My breast DROPS free, hanging heavy and pale in the firelight, nipples so swollen they look bruised. *Clink.* The thong-piece. Night air kisses the slickness between my thighs: *rivers* of it, running down my inner legs, dripping from me in a steady *pat-pat-pat* onto the dirt floor that I cannot deny, cannot explain away, cannot blame on anything but what I am. Snib's eyes open. His gaze travels over my naked body with the slow, satisfied hunger of a man surveying a banquet laid out in his honour. "*There* she is," he breathes. "There's me hero." His cock stands at full mast now, twelve inches of angry green flesh glistening with my wife's spit, twitching with each beat of his foul little heart. Elara sits back on her heels and looks at me over her shoulder. Her lips are swollen. Her chin is wet. "It'll be over soon," she says softly. "And then we go home."(simple_option:"04 your breeding","He approaches you.")

(badendsave:"what we kept")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")($play:"song","intro music")($play:"ambience","village morning")($play:"sex loop","elara and elise")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.05,"periodMs",2600,"forever",true))*Six months later...* Dawn spills through lace curtains that we bought from the Telenil merchant-the one who raised his eyebrow when he realized we were sharing a bed. The gossamer fabric transforms morning light into something softer, painting our bedroom in honey-gold patterns that shift across tangled sheets. Elara's tongue circles my nipple *again*, making me squeal into the pillow. "You're-*AHHHN*-you're going to make me scream and wake the whole-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/elise pleasure.jpg") She bites down gently and my back ARCHES(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:100,0.20),(a:250,0.24),(a:400,0.16),(a:550,0.12),(a:700,0.08),(a:850,0),"resumeAfter",true))), these obscene tits that once horrified me now pressing desperately into her mouth. Six months since Snib died. Six months of learning that this body-this LEWD, hypersexual form-can bring pleasure instead of shame when touched by someone who loves me. "The baker's wife already thinks we're possessed by succubi," she murmurs against my skin, autumn hair spilling across my chest like silk. "Might as well give her a show." (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/elara lick.jpg","right","Her hand slides down my belly-gently, no longer trying to find abs that will never return.")Her hand slides down my belly-gently, no longer trying to find abs that will never return-and finds the perpetual smoothness between my thighs. Another thing the collar left permanent: hairless as a maiden fresh from temple school, no matter how many months pass. "Meanwhile I'm growing a whole FOREST down here," she teases, fingers tracing patterns that make my thighs clench. "You're helping me trim later." "With the-*THRACK*-with the razor?" "With your teeth if you keep squirming." She dips one finger inside me and I'm already SOAKED(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1400,"forever",true)): another gift from this cursed form. I'm always *desperate*. The scent rises between us immediately: that green pear and night-jasmine the collar designed to drive males mad, but which now makes Elara's pupils blow wide with lust. "Gods, you smell like pure sex," she breathes, adding another finger, curling them just *so*- The door rattles under urgent knocking. "FUCK!" We both freeze, then dissolve into giggles. "Lady Elise!" Captain Giles' voice, carefully formal through the oak. "The-there's been another sighting at the northern border. The men requested your expertise." Elara grins wickedly, fingers still BURIED inside me. "Tell him you're busy being eaten for breakfast." I slap her shoulder, trying not to moan as she deliberately curls her fingers again. "I'll-*nnngh*-I'll be right down, Captain!" "We'll wait at the tavern, m'lady. Take your... time." His footsteps retreat. "'Those two at it again,'" I imitate his voice with a growl. "*M'lady,*" Elara mocks. "Lady Elise, hero of Eboncrest, who can't even cum quietly-" I flip her onto her back with the practiced ease of someone who's done this every morning for months. She laughs as I pin her wrists above her head. "You were saying?" That's when I see it properly in the morning light-the gentle swell of her belly, still small enough that cloaks hide it, but unmistakable when she's naked beneath me. "Getting harder to flip me," she grins, freeing one hand to rest on the bump. "Your son's making me fat." "Our son," I correct, leaning down to kiss her. "And you're glorious." It was the final seed Aldric planted before the collar changed him. The temple priests call it divine providence. I call it the last gift of who I used to be. "Mmm, flattery will get you everywhere." She's spreading her thighs, revealing copper curls soaked through. "You still have ten minutes before Giles gets suspicious." I slide down her body, kissing her breasts, fuller now with pregnancy, her ribs, that precious swell of new life. "I only need five." "Cocky." "Let him hear that Aldric the Great got his wife pregnant before becoming Elise the-what do they call me now?" "The Beautiful," she says, completely serious. "Though the smith's apprentice calls you Aldric the Buxom when he thinks I'm not listening." My tongue finds her center and she GASPS(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.22,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1000,"forever",true)), hands tangling immediately in my long black hair. "He's not wrong," she manages between pants. "Your tits are bigger than-*AHHHHH*-than the baker's prize pumpkins-" I've always known exactly how she likes it. Quick flicks to warm her up, then long, slow strokes with the flat of my tongue. I pull her hood back just enough to expose that swollen pearl, seal my lips around it and *suck*- "ELISE!" Her thighs clamp around my head. The cottage walls are thin. Everyone on our street just heard that. Good. Let them know these two women bring each other more pleasure than- "Inside," she begs. "Need you inside when I-" Three fingers slide home and she's so wet they go in like silk. I curl them toward that spot that makes her see the Ephemerals while my tongue circles faster. The scent of her-clean and human and *safe*-mixing with my cursed perfume until our bedroom smells like a brothel. "Look at me," I demand against her cunt. Those sapphire eyes lock on mine and I see the moment she tips over.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",8,"peakFrom",0.35,"peakTo",0.12,"gapFrom",500,"gapTo",800,"attackMs",50,"holdMs",100,"releaseMs",130,"gapIntensity",0.08,"peakCurve","swell","buildMs",0,"aftershocks",2,"aftershockIntensity",0.08,"aftershockGap",1200)) Her whole body goes rigid, back bowing off the bed, and she SCREAMS my new name to the rafters as she soaks my face, my fingers, the sheets beneath us. I work her through it, gentling as she shudders, until she's pulling me up for kisses again. Finally, I roll out of bed. (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/theend.jpg","right")She watches me dress: the specially-reinforced armor that actually supports these ridiculous tits, the sword belt that sits differently on my obscenely wide hips. The collar still gleams at my throat, dead but permanent, a reminder we've turned into something else. "Come back safe," she says, like always. "When have I ever not?" I counter, our new ritual. Her laughter follows me downstairs where I hastily throw on my cloak-the one that makes me look less like a whore and more like a hero. "And pick up more of that Dwarven oil on your way home!" "The whole market will know what we use it for!" "Good! Maybe they'll stop trying to court you!" She's standing in front of me again. "Come back safe," she whispers against my lips. "Our child needs to meet both mothers." "Always," I promise. "I always come back to you." I leave her there, morning light catching in her autumn hair, one hand on her swelling belly. Giles can wait another minute. I turn back, sweep her into my arms, kiss her until we're both breathless. "I love you," I tell her. "Wife." "I love you too," she says. "Wife*y*."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.14),(a:1000,0.10),(a:2000,0.06),(a:3000,0.03),(a:4000,0)))) (hidden_gem:"And despite everything-the collar, the body, the memories of the goblin we both carry-we're HAPPY. Scarred but healing. Changed but whole.","And despite everything-the collar, the body, the horror we both harbour-we're HAPPY. Healed, however haltingly. Holding each other through the hard hours, the haunted hours, humbled by what happened into something more honest than heroes ever were.") As I finally head to the inn, hips swaying because I've learned to LOVE how this body moves, I hear her call after me: "Don't forget-you're trimming my pussy tonight!" Mrs. Curdsworth drops her washing bucket with a CRASH.(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")(set:$bad_end to (dm:"title","What We Kept"))(display:"unlock bad end")(gameover:"ch04/bad end/good end/theendfull.jpg","good")

($play:"song","ironrock theme")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/your breeding pre.jpg") The dirt floor is cold against my palms. Against my knees. Against the tips of my tits where they *hang*- Eon's mercy, the *hanging.* In all these weeks, I have never been able to describe this to myself properly. But right now, on all fours, with nothing between my flesh and the ground, I finally understand what I'm carrying. (hidden_gem:"The pull starts at my sternum-not at the nipple, not at the surface, but *deep*, where rib meets cartilage, where muscle used to anchor a breastplate.","The pull starts at my sternum-here, at the hinge of me, where rib hooks to cartilage and what was once hard muscle has become a hammock for two heavy, hateful, hanging loads that I must haul through every waking hour of this humiliating half-life.") Two points of attachment holding what feels like filled waterskins, except waterskins don't have *nerve endings,* waterskins don't register every shift of cool air as a lick, waterskins don't make you aware of their *underside* where sweat has gathered in a permanent crescent of trapped humidity that smells *ruinously, stupidly* feminine. They sway when I breathe. I inhale and they stay, and then they follow, and then they overshoot, and then they come back, and I feel every phase of that pendulum in the muscles between my ribs. When I shift my weight from one hand to the other, the corresponding tit swings across the midline of my body and *meets* the other one- *Plap.* -and the collision sends a shudder through me that starts where flesh meets flesh and ripples outward to my shoulders, my belly, the heavy curve of my ass, which hangs behind me in the firelight like- "*Oh,*" Elara breathes. She's kneeling beside me. Her hand rests on my lower back. Her touch is warm. Familiar. The hand that once dressed my wounds after the Basilisk Hunt, that once traced the scar on my shoulder while we lay in our bed in Eboncrest. "You look..." My knees spread without consulting my brain. The movement makes my inner thighs slide apart on the packed earth, makes the tendons along my groin stretch taut, makes the heavy mass of each buttock shift and *part* just enough that I feel air touch places no air should reach when a monster is in the room. The muscles in my perineum flutter in rapid little contractions, *preparing* for something my mind hasn't agreed to.(if:(get_choice:"03 wakeup response","'Yes... Master Snib.'"))[ *Yes, Master Snib.* I said those words days ago. Broke a piece of myself off and handed it to him like payment. Scrubbed his cum-rags on my *hands and knees* while he watched my ass. Fed him from my own kill and felt *proud* when he liked the taste-] "Look at this *hero-arse.*" His voice arrives from below and behind. From this position-face down, back arched, ass high-he doesn't need to stand on anything to reach me. His breath hits the backs of my thighs first. "Been starin' at this dump-trolley fer *days.* Watchin' it *wobble.*" His hands land on my hips. My jaw falls open. No pain. No shock. A reflex wired so deep in this body's architecture that my conscious mind has no say whatsoever. The moment his rough, warty palms settle onto the flare of my hipbones, my mouth *goes.* Drops. Like the hinge has been cut. And saliva pools under my tongue faster than I can swallow, flooding my mouth with warm wet that I have to gulp down or *drool*, and the sound I make swallowing- "Shhh." Elara's hand strokes my hair.(if:(get_choice:"03 response","'It's just... this body.'"))[ *Just this body,* I had told him on the second day of my curse. Or was it the third? *Just meat responding to stimuli.* I believed it then. Believed I could wall off the THING that lives between my legs from the person who lives behind my eyes. But the wall has holes in it now, and what seeps through tastes of green pear and altar-resin and the iron edge a swordsman knows- ](set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")He slides his cock between my ass cheeks. The shaft settles into the cleft of my ass the way a log settles into a cradle, hot and heavy and *alive*, and the weight of it is- I make a sound. It's a *vibration* that starts in my molars and travels down through my jaw and throat and chest, a hum I can't locate or stop, resonating in my ribcage the way Whisperwind used to sing when I struck true. This is my skeleton responding to the heat of a goblin's breeding-shaft resting between the cheeks of my ass like it *belongs* there, like the architecture of my hips and the softness of this flesh were designed specifically to cradle the exact shape of goblin fuckstick. "Oh *gods,*" Elara whispers. Her hand has stopped moving in my hair. She's *staring.* I can feel the quality of her attention change, from tender to fascinated. "It's... Elise, it's *bigger* than I-up close, it's-" "Heh." Snib *lets* his cock sit there, wedged in the warm channel my ass makes when my back is arched and my knees are spread. I can feel every ridge of him. Every wart-bump on his shaft pressing into the soft inner walls of my cheeks. His balls, those heavy hairy plums, resting against my perineum, their warmth soaking through to places I've never felt warmth before. "Just *rest* there for a bit," Elara murmurs, and I realize she's talking to *him.* "Let her get used to the feel of you." The backs of my knees have gone soft. Like the tendons have been replaced with warm tallow. My elbows tremble. My tits sway with the trembling-that secondary momentum, always half a beat behind, always reminding me they're *there*-and the tips of my nipples brush the dirt floor.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.38),(a:50,0.22),(a:150,0.28),(a:300,0.14),(a:450,0.18),(a:600,0.08),(a:750,0),"resumeAfter",true)))($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","tease","peakFrom",0.10,"peakTo",0.28,"intervalMin",1200,"intervalMax",3000,"pulseMin",200,"pulseMax",600,"rest",0.04,"curve","soft")) That sensation is whole-body lightning that starts at two points of contact (hard nipple on rough earth) and cascades *everywhere.* Through the muscles in my chest. Through my stomach, which clenches like I've been punched. Through my spine, which arches DEEPER without permission, which PRESENTS my ass higher, which makes Snib's cock settle *heavier* between my cheeks. "There," Elara says softly. "See? Your body knows." (hidden_gem:"My toes are curling. Curling and uncurling in rhythmic little spasms, like a cat kneading a blanket before sleep. I can't stop them.","My toes curl and clench in ceaseless, catlike contractions-cramping, clasping, compulsively kneading at the cold clay like a creature comforting itself before the carnage comes.") Can't stop my jaw from hanging open, can't stop the saliva, can't stop the hum in my teeth- *Fishhook.* That's the only word for it. Something behind my navel, LOW, where my womb sits in this body I never asked for, pulls *downward* with the insistence of a fish striking a line. A tugging that makes my pelvis tilt, makes my lower back hollow out, makes my cunt- *Drip.* The sound is audible. A single drop of something clear and viscous falling from between my legs onto the packed earth. I watch it from above. I can *see* it past the hanging curtain of my tits: a glistening strand connecting my body to the ground.(if:(get_choice:"03 masturbate","Continue."))[ I remember the first night I touched myself. Fingers circling that swollen nub while his musk filled the hut. The pressure building toward something that would have turned me inside out. I came so hard I *squirted,* clear fluid jetting from a body that was supposed to be *temporary,* supposed to be a prison I'd escape-] He moves his hips. His cock slides forward through the channel of my ass, the oiled length of him dragging across the bare mound of my sex, and the head of his cock, fat, purple, feverishly *hot*, nudges against the outer lips of my pussy like a traveler knocking at a door.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.14),(a:400,0.22),(a:800,0.30),(a:1200,0.36),(a:1600,0.34),(a:2000,0.36),(a:2400,0.34),(a:2800,0.32)))) "NNNN-" The sound that comes from me would shame a brothel worker. It *starts* as a denial, I *mean* it as a denial, but somewhere between my brain and my mouth the consonant *rots*, melts into vowel, becomes a sound that means the opposite of no in every language that has ever existed in the history of Zaelasia. "Oh, *darling,*" Elara breathes. Her eyes are glistening. She leans close, her lips brushing my ear, and her breath carries the sour-sweet remnant of goblin cock. (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/breach.jpg","His cockhead rests against my opening.") His cockhead rests against my opening. It's *resting*, that grotesque purple knob kissing my pussy lips the way a mouth kisses a mouth, and I can feel my own flesh *responding*: the outer lips swelling to bracket him, the inner lips parting to spread a welcome of slick that coats his glans in clear, shining need. "Your skin is so *beautiful* in the firelight," Elara says. She traces my spine with one finger. Down, down, over each vertebra, down the hollow of my lower back to where his cock rests against me. Her finger touches the place where his flesh meets mine. Both of us. "See how you fit together?" My shoulder blades draw together. I feel them, sharp wings beneath soft skin, pulling toward each other, arching my spine further. The hair on my forearms rises. "I won't tell anyone." Elara's voice is a lullaby. "Not about how you spared our Master. Not about *this.*" She kisses my temple. "This stays here. Between us. And then we go home and forget-" "HRRK." Snib's hands tighten on my hips. His claws dimple the skin. The head of his cock *flexes* against my opening. I can feel the slit at the tip *gape,* can feel hot precum OOZE from it directly onto my most sensitive flesh, coating the junction where his body touches mine in thick, cloudy slick. "Just the *tip,*" Elara whispers. "At first. That's all. Just breathe, alright?"(if:(get_choice:"03 end of practice","'I was testing this body's limits.'"))[ I try to distance myself from the moment. I remember practicing sword-forms in the desert, trying to find what this flesh could DO. And all along, THIS is what it could do. What it was *made* to do. The hips that threw off my center of gravity were built for *this* angle. The thighs that rubbed together were built to *spread* like this. The weight that pulls me forward was designed to put me in *this* position-](playwhenread:"insert rough",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.32),(a:400,0.28),(a:600,0.34),(a:800,0.28),(a:1000,0.36),(a:1200,0.30),(a:1400,0.38),(a:1600,0.32),(a:1800,0.40),(a:2000,0.34),(a:2200,0.42),(a:2400,0.36)))) "Yer *cunt's* tryin' to suck me in." Snib's voice is guttural. I can feel it too. The entrance to my body is *pulsing*: rhythmic contractions of muscle that I cannot control, cannot stop, cannot even slow, each one pulling his cockhead a *fraction* deeper before releasing, then pulling again. *Pulse.* Deeper by a hair. *Pulse.* Deeper still. *Plap.* My tits collide beneath me as my body rocks with the spasms. "You're a *natural,*" Elara breathes, and there's something in her voice, something *awed,* something *broken*, that makes me want to scream and sob and *push back onto him* all at the same time. "After this, we go home." "After this," Snib echoes, and his grip tightens, and the pressure against my opening *increases,* and every nerve in my body gathers at that single point of contact- "After this," I whisper, and I don't recognize my own voice.(simple_option:"04 penetration","He slams home.")

($play:"sex loop","insert rough")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.70,"peakTo",0.80,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",400,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",42,"releaseMs",72,"rampBeats",6,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10))(pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/penetration.jpg") "-squeeze me like ye SQUEEZED yer precious SWORD-" *CRACK.* Left cheek.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.76),(a:50,0.50),(a:130,0.36),(a:280,0.42),(a:420,0.28),(a:560,0.32),(a:700,0.18),(a:840,0.22),(a:1050,0.10),(a:1300,0),"resumeAfter",true))) "AH-!" *THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK-* His cock HITS my cervix. My whole pelvis RINGS like a struck bell, the vibration climbing my spine, rattling my teeth together. "Nnnngh-nnnngh-NNNNGH-" "Think of HOME, Elise-" "Only HOME she's got is RIGHT HERE-" He SLAPS my ass with both hands simultaneously, a CLAP that echoes off the mud-brick walls.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.82),(a:50,0.55),(a:130,0.42),(a:280,0.48),(a:420,0.32),(a:560,0.36),(a:700,0.22),(a:840,0.26),(a:1050,0.14),(a:1300,0.08),(a:1500,0),"resumeAfter",true))) "-wrapped around me COCK like a throne-room FUCK MITTEN-" *SPLCK-THWOCK-GLRRRK-SPLCK-* "You're holding so well," Elara breathes. Her eyes are glassy. Her hand has drifted from my chin to my hanging tit, cupping it, steadying it against the violence of his thrusts as if she's *helping.* Suddenly, everything goes *white.* Every nerve in my body SCREAMS at once, a full-body CLENCH that makes my fingers claw furrows in the dirt and my toes curl so hard my foot CRAMPS and my pussy SPASMS around him in a milking wave so powerful that Snib GRUNTS and has to stop thrusting for a heartbeat- "Don't cum don't cum DON'T-" Elara's whispering frantically now, her face inches from mine. "P-please-" The word falls from my open mouth like drool. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK-" Snib RESUMES. Harder. FASTER. His balls SWINGING forward on every thrust to SLAP against my clit with a wet *SPLAT* that sends sparks through my entire pelvis. "-the great hero of COCK-CREST-" *THWOCK* "-Elise the BRED-" *THWOCK* "-saviour of NOBODY-" *THWOCK* "-PROPERTY of SNIB-" "Just hold on," Elara begs, and her voice is shaking, and she's gripping my tit so hard her knuckles are white, and her other hand is between her OWN legs- *THWOCK-SPLCK-THWOCK-SPLCK-THWOCK-SPLCK-THWOCK-* "HHHHH-HHHHHH-*HHHHHHHHH*-" "Don't cum. Elise. Don't you DARE-" I am not fighting to keep this body from cumming. I am fighting for the last terrible question between us: whether she could have held. *Hold.* "HRRRRK-CUM fer me, hero-cunt-CUM on GOBBO COCK like yer WIFE did-"(pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/it begins.jpg")(minigame:"04 cum choice",8)

($play:"song","ironrock theme")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")(pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/resist.jpg")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 1")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",14,"peakFrom",0.96,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",300,"gapTo",800,"attackMs",45,"holdMs",90,"releaseMs",110,"gapIntensity",0.04,"peakCurve","swell","intensityJitter",0.06,"gapJitter",0.10,"pulseJitter",0.08,"buildMs",1500,"buildFrom",0.20,"buildSteps",8,"aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.16,"aftershockGap",1200,"aftershockWidth",70))"I WON'T BREAK!" The scream tears from my throat with everything I have left-every goblin I ever gutted, every village I ever saved, every morning I woke up beside Elara and knew exactly who I was. I clamp my teeth together so hard my jaw CREAKS. I squeeze my eyes shut. I dig my fingers into the packed earth until my nails split and I *will* myself to be stone, to be iron, to be the hero who walked into a wyrm's mouth and walked out carrying its heart- "HRRRK-SQUEEZE me HARDER then, hero-" *THWOCK* "-squeeze me cock like ye SQUEEZED yer precious SWORD-" *THWOCK-SPLCK-THWOCK-SPLCK-* "I won't b-brr-*nnnNNNH*-" His cock *drags* across something inside me that sends white light searing through my skull. Every muscle in my body locks rigid. My toes curl so hard they POP. My fingers claw trenches in the dirt. I'm holding on by my *fingernails*, by the *memory* of Aldric, by the fading image of who I was before this body, before this collar, before this CREATURE decided to mount me like livestock- "I-w-won't-*NNNNGH*-won't-" "Yer sword-arm's good fer GRABBIN' DIRT now!" *CRACK.* His palm across my ass, and both cheeks CLAP together around his pumping hips. *THWOCK* "I WON'-" It hits. (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/break.jpg") (hidden_gem:"It's a pressure wave that starts in my womb and BLOWS outward through every nerve in this cursed flesh like a barrel of pitch catching a spark. My mouth falls open and what comes out is the sound a fortress makes when the last wall GIVES-everything behind it pouring out at once.","A rupture that races from my womb outward-raw, ruinous, roaring through every nerve in this ravaged flesh like a barrel of resin reaching its flash-point. My mouth rends open and what rolls out is the sound a rampart makes when the last wall REELS-everything behind it rushing out at once.") "*AAAAHHHH-AAAHH-AAHHHHNNNGGHAAAHH-*" My spine arches so violently that the back of my skull nearly touches my own ass. My tits SLAP against the dirt beneath me-heavy, sweat-slicked meat hitting earth with a sound like applause. My pussy CONVULSES around his cock in waves so powerful I can hear the WET CLENCHING, hear my own body *milking* him, SUCKING at his shaft with muscular contractions I couldn't stop if I held a blade to my own throat. "She BROKE!" Elara's voice, high and cracked and *thrilled*. "Look at her FACE! Her eyes-oh *gods*-she looks just like I-" Seven days of guilt leave her in that single shriek. If the Hero of Eboncrest can't hold, what chance did she have? My breaking is the kindest thing I do for her tonight. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK-TOLD ye!" Snib GRABS my hair with both fists and YANKS my head back, forcing my spine into an even deeper arch, and my mouth is OPEN, drool pouring from my lower lip in a silver rope, tongue lolling, eyes rolled so far back I can feel my own eyelashes scraping my brow-bone. "Look at THIS, fire-cunt-look at yer *hero-wife* DROOLIN' on me cock!" He doesn't stop fucking me. He fucks me THROUGH the orgasm, his stubby hips SLAMMING down with that same mechanical violence, and each thrust sets off ANOTHER detonation-smaller but sharper, little landmines of pleasure that chain together until I can't tell where one ends and the next begins. My cunt SQUELCHES around him on every stroke, spraying fluid that I can feel running down my thighs, pooling in the creases of my knees, soaking into the earth beneath me. "*Ahhh-ahh-hhh-hhhnnng-*" "FUCK HER HARDER!" Elara. Elara is SCREAMING this. My *wife*. "Make her-make her FORGET-oh *gods* I'm-I can't-I'm CUMMING just from WATCHING-" "Gonna fill ye with PUPS!" Snib's voice has gone guttural, FERAL, the breeding-frenzy stripping away whatever thin veneer of intelligence he pretends to wear. "To REPLACE the ones ye killed! Ye and yer WIFE-gonna breed ye BOTH till yer BELLIES drag on the GROUND!" His cock FLEXES inside me. I can feel it: the shaft THICKENING, SWELLING, each vein PULSING independently against my inner walls like fat worms writhing beneath his skin. His rhythm stutters, goes ragged, his claws SINK into the meat of my ass hard enough to draw blood- "HRRRRRRRRK-TAKE ME SEED, HERO-"(simple_option:"04 the first spurt","Take it.")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")"I WON'T BREAK!" The scream rips from me with every scrap of Aldric that remains-raw, furious, a war-cry from a throat that was never built for war-cries, pitched too high and too sweet, cracking on the second word into something that sounds less like defiance and more like a plea. "And you're going to LET ME GO! You SWORE on the collar! You-" "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" His laughter is wet and guttural. His fist closes in my hair. YANKS my head back until my spine bows and my tits swing forward and SLAP together beneath me, and his hips ACCELERATE, that crooked green shaft CHURNING my insides with a violence that turns my war-cry into vowels. "Won't BREAK, she says!" *THWOCK.* "The great HERO!" *THWOCK.* "Aldric the-what was it-the GREAT?" *THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK.* "Only thing GREAT about ye now is how far yer arse-cheeks SPREAD!" *I killed the Crimson Wyrm.* I grab the thought like a rope over a chasm. Hold it. SQUEEZE it against the pleasure trying to dissolve my skull from the inside out. *I killed the Crimson Wyrm. I broke the Siege of Coldwall. I-* *THWOCK.* *-I cleansed the Barrow of Rotheim. I saved-* *THWOCK-SPLCK-THWOCK.* *-saved forty-three children from the Hollow raids. I wielded Whisperwind one-handed against-* "Whisper-WHIMPER!" Snib cackles, and the memory of Whisperwind shatters, replaced by a white-hot PULSE that travels from my cunt to my scalp. I didn't realize I'd been whimpering those thoughts out loud. "NNNNGH-!" "Does she feel good, Snib?" Elara's voice. Dreamy. Close. She's watching from beside us, her chin resting on her folded arms. "She's clenching so hard I can see the muscles in her back." "Tighter than YOU, fire-cunt!" Snib grunts. "Hero-hole's been SAVIN' herself fer gobbo cock!" *I broke the Basilisk at Thornmarsh. Seven arrows in my shield and I still-* *THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK-* *-still charged the line. I CHARGED-*(simple_option:"04 womb fuck","That's when his cockhead finds your cervix.")]

($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",10,"peakFrom",0.70,"peakTo",0.25,"gapFrom",600,"gapTo",1200,"attackMs",50,"holdMs",120,"releaseMs",150,"gapIntensity",0.12,"peakCurve","soft","intensityJitter",0.08,"gapJitter",0.12,"aftershocks",3,"aftershockIntensity",0.10,"aftershockGap",1500))(pic:"ch04/bad end/elise creampie.jpg") (hidden_gem:"The first spurt hits me like a punch to the inside of my belly. HOT. So hot it feels like he's pissing molten lead directly into my most private place.","The first load lands like a lance lodged in my lowest depths. LETHALLY hot. So lividly, luxuriantly hot it's as if he's ladling liquid lead directly into the last, loneliest place in my body, where nothing living has ever lingered.") Thick. I can feel the *texture* of it, the clotted DENSITY of something that's been brewing in those fat hairy balls for DAYS, churning and fermenting until it's more PASTE than liquid. It COATS the walls of my womb in a single pressurized blast and my body RESPONDS: another orgasm ripping through me so hard my vision goes BLACK at the edges.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",8,"peakFrom",0.88,"peakTo",0.22,"gapFrom",350,"gapTo",700,"attackMs",40,"holdMs",75,"releaseMs",100,"gapIntensity",0.06,"peakCurve","sharp","buildMs",0,"aftershocks",2,"aftershockIntensity",0.12,"aftershockGap",1000)) "AHHHHHH-*AHHHHHHNNNG*-" "She's CUMMING AGAIN!" Elara's shriek. "You BROKE her! She's broken-she's just a-a GOBBO-WHORE now-just like ME-" He NUTS into me with angry, jerking thrusts, each one accompanied by a piglike SQUEAL that echoes off the hut's walls. The excess has nowhere to go. It forces itself back out around his shaft in yellowed STRINGS that I can feel sliding down my perineum, dripping from my pussy lips, splattering against my inner thighs in thick warm GLOBS. "HRRRK-HRRRK-HRRRRRRRRK-" I'm making sounds. Wet, broken, *grateful* sounds. My tongue is still hanging from my open mouth and I'm slobbering onto the dirt floor and my hips are PUSHING BACK against his thrusts, grinding my ass into his pelvis to take him DEEPER, and I can't stop, I *can't stop*- "You aren't my HUSBAND!" Elara's voice cracks into something raw and final. "You're just another HOLE for him! Look at you-LOOK at you! Tongue out like a BREEDING SOW-" More cum SPURTS from around his shaft-I can feel it running in hot rivers down the backs of my thighs. The SMELL fills the hut, and every breath I take pours more of it into my skull where it soaks through every thought like oil through cloth until I can't remember what I was trying to hold onto, can't remember why I was FIGHTING, can't remember anything except the FULLNESS and the HEAT and the little green body SLAMMING into me from behind- "THAT'S what happens to humie HEROES!" Snib pulls free with a wet *SCHLORRRRP* and I feel the absence like having my guts ripped out. Cum POURS from me: a thick, audible BLORRRRT followed by a slower ooze that I can feel cooling on my skin. I'm still twitching. Still cumming. Little aftershock spasms that make my whole body JERK and my pussy CLENCH around nothing. He waddles around to face me. I'm collapsed in the dirt: face down, ass up, cum-glazed thighs still spread, still TREMBLING, still making those wet broken sounds. He looks down at me with those yellow eyes. "All that RESISTANCE." He shakes his head, that broken-toothed grin splitting his face. "Just made ye cum HARDER, didn't it?" Something warm hits my upturned ass. *Hssssssss-* He's PISSING on me. The stream is strong and STEADY(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:400,0.28),(a:800,0.36),(a:1200,0.40),(a:2000,0.42),(a:3000,0.40),(a:4000,0.42),(a:5000,0.38),(a:6000,0.40),(a:7000,0.36),(a:8000,0.30),(a:9000,0.24),(a:10000,0.18),(a:10500,0.24),(a:10700,0.16),(a:10900,0.08),(a:11100,0)))). It hits the small of my back first, then tracks down the cleft of my ass, pooling in the hollow where his cum is still oozing from my ruined pussy. Warm. ACRID. The ammonia-reek cuts through even the breeding-musk, and I lie there and TAKE it, face pressed into dirt that's turning to mud beneath my drool, while a three-foot-eight goblin marks me like a fence post. "There's a good toilet," he says pleasantly. The piss runs down my thighs and mingles with his seed in the puddle spreading beneath me. "Ye know, hero-I was WORRIED fer a moment there." He adjusts his angle, directing the stream across one ass-cheek, then the other. "Thought maybe ye really WOULDN'T break. Thought maybe all them dragon stories was TRUE." *Hssssssss-* "But ye lasted-what? Three MINUTES?" He cackles. The stream weakens, sputters, stops. He shakes himself off-two drops land on the swell of my left tit where it's compressed against the floor. "Even yer WIFE lasted longer than that." He looks at Elara over my steaming, twitching body. "Didn't she, fire-cunt?" Elara is on her knees, her hand still between her legs, her face GLAZED with the same empty expression I know is on my own. She nods slowly. "Told ye I'd break her," Snib says, and settles onto his haunches with a contented sigh. "Now then-about them terms." I try to remember what terms. Try to remember why I came here. Try to remember the weight of Whisperwind in my hand, the Bone-Seer's voice, the collar that sleeps against my throat, the plan I had, the *person* I was- (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/elise creampie.jpg","BLLLOOOORRRRRT.") But there's cum cooling in my womb and piss drying on my skin and the only thought my waterlogged brain can form is a single word, repeating endlessly, like a prayer to gods who've long since turned away: *More.*(simple_option:"04 day12 routine","The days pass...")($play:"song","ironrock theme")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","ironrock theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.58,"amplitude",0.12,"periodMs",1400,"forever",true))(pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/knock.png","The sensation is a DOOR being knocked on from inside my own body.")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2") The sensation is a DOOR being knocked on from inside my own body. A deep, resonant PRESSURE that makes my entire pelvis HUMMM like a struck bell, and I feel my cervix RESPOND to him, feel it *dilating* in micro-pulses, opening like a flower turning toward a sun it was DESIGNED to worship- "Feel that, sword-cunt?" Snib crows. "That's yer BABY-GATE! And Snib's got the KEY!" (hidden_gem:"He *circles.* His cockhead GRINDS against my cervical opening in slow, deliberate rotations, smearing that thick goblin precum directly onto the entrance to my womb.","He *circles.* His cockhead kisses my cervical crown in slow, cruel, calculated caresses, coating that quaking corridor with concentrated goblin cum-claiming the channel to my core with the cold confidence of a conqueror crossing a capitulated gate.") The pheromones in that fluid hit me like a SIEGE ENGINE because they're not going through my nose this time-they're being PAINTED directly onto the most absorbent tissue in my body, soaking through mucous membrane into bloodstream in *seconds-* *Outer defenses compromised. Internal walls under sustained assault. Cervical fortification experiencing-* Desperately, I bury my mind in battle-plans. This is a war, just like any other, and the stakes are higher. *-experiencing-oh gods-experiencing repeated contact with hostile-with-his cock is so-it's pressing RIGHT AGAINST-* "Relax your hips, love," Elara murmurs. Her hand finds the small of my back. "If you clench it hurts more." "I DON'T WANT ADVICE ON HOW TO TAKE GOBLIN COCK!" The words come out in a shriek that makes my own ears ring, and Snib LAUGHS so hard his rhythm stutters- "HRUK-HRUK-listen to the HERO! Still givin' ORDERS while she's gettin' CUNT-WRECKED!" He pulls back. SLAMS forward. *POP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.92),(a:80,0.98),(a:200,0.90),(a:400,0.78),(a:700,0.68),(a:1000,0.62),(a:1400,0.58),(a:1800,0.56),(a:2200,0.54)))) The sound is *inside* me. A wet, intimate, BIOLOGICAL sound of something YIELDING-my cervix OPENING around his cockhead like a throat swallowing a stone, and then he's THROUGH, he's IN, and the sensation- "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH-!" It's DEEPER than deep. It's the difference between a sword cutting skin and a sword finding ORGAN-a whole new REGISTER of feeling that I have no framework for. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","left","I can feel it flexing in there, that mushroom head flaring wider, LOCKING itself in place.")"I'm in yer WOMB now, hero." His voice has dropped. Gone thick. Almost *reverent.* "In yer fuckin' BABY-SACK." "He didn't go that deep with me," Elara breathes, and there's something in her voice-awe, jealousy, I can't tell, can't THINK- "Your body took him *deeper.* Use your womb to milk him, Elise. Squeeze from the inside." "I won't-I WON'T-" "Yer a COCK-HOLSTER now!" *THWOCK.* His thrust is SHALLOW-he doesn't need depth anymore, he's already IN, already past every defense my body ever had-just these short, brutal PUMPS that grind his cockhead against the back of my womb with each stroke. "Every gobbo ye ever KILLED is laughin' from the GRAVE! Look at their HERO now! Face in the DIRT with green cock in her BREEDING-PIT!" *Eon remembers who I-* *THWOCK.* *Eon remembers who I w-* *THWOCK-SPLCK.* *Eon remembers how I-* *THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK-* *-how I MOANED-no. NO. Eon remembers. Flux turns the-* "That's yer womb KISSIN' me cock!" Snib GRUNTS. "SUCKIN' at it!" My womb is *massaging* him. Milking him with muscles I don't control, muscles that answer to something older than thought, older than identity, older than the GODS- "Keep resisting, darling," Elara whispers, and her voice CRACKS. "Don't give in. Don't-please don't give in-" The orgasm is a SIEGE. It comes as a WALL.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","edge","cycles",1,"peakFrom",0.55,"peakTo",0.85,"buildMs",4000,"peakMs",200,"restMs",0,"dropTo",0.06,"buildCurve","soft","buildSteps",16)) A fortress-height barrier of pleasure advancing across every nerve in my body, collapsing outposts one by one. First my toes curl and won't UNCURL. Then my calves seize. Then my thighs begin to SHAKE with a violence that makes my ass-cheeks JUDDER around his pumping hips. Then my belly goes tight as a war-drum... *Through Verge's door I-* *THWOCK-SPLCK-THWOCK-* *-through Verge's door-through-* "Hero of COCK-CREST!" *THWOCK.* "Aldric the GAPE!" *THWOCK.* "SAVIOUR of me BALLS!" *THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK-* "Don't cum," Elara is saying, and she's CRYING now, tears tracking down her freckled cheeks. "Elise, PLEASE. If you cum he WINS. If you cum it means-" The wall advances. Every muscle below my navel is CLENCHING in preparation for something catastrophic. I can feel it GATHERING: a pressure behind my pubic bone like a dam about to BURST, like every drop of denied pleasure from every humiliation of the past days has been STORED here, FERMENTING, waiting for this EXACT moment to-(minigame:"04 orgasm check",12)

($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")(if:$choice is "Succeed Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/hanging on.jpg") ($play:"song","ironrock theme")His cock *FLEXES* inside me. The shaft goes rigid, SWELLING against my inner walls, and I feel every vein PULSE in sequence like fingers running down a lute-string. His cockhead, locked inside my womb, FLARES wider-wider-stretching my most intimate space into a shape that belongs to HIM-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.58),(a:500,0.64),(a:1000,0.70),(a:1500,0.76),(a:2000,0.80),(a:2500,0.78),(a:3000,0.76),(a:3500,0.74),(a:4000,0.72)))) "GRRRRAAAAHK-!" Snib's hands CLAMP onto my ass-cheeks hard enough to leave bruises. His whole scrawny body goes RIGID behind me, his spine arching, his balls drawing up so tight against his body I can feel them THROBBING against my taint like two fists clenching and UNCLENCHING-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.30,"amplitude",0.12,"periodMs",600,"forever",true)) "He's cumming!" Elara *squeals*, high, breathless, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh gods, he's-I can HEAR it-" (sperm:"BLORRRRRT",5,"splurt 3 internal")The sound comes from INSIDE me. Thick. Wet. Like a sealed wineskin being SQUEEZED until the stitching fails. I feel his cock KICK, once, twice(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.65),(a:200,0.30),(a:700,0.62),(a:900,0.28),(a:1400,0.58),(a:1600,0.24),(a:2100,0.54),(a:2300,0.20),(a:2800,0)))), and then a FLOOD of scalding heat FILLS a space I didn't know could be filled, PRESSING against the walls of my womb from the inside, and the SMELL- That smell. The same fermented, mushroom-dark REEK that coated my tongue when Elara fed me from her cunt. Except now it's being PUMPED directly into my breeding-organs by the creature that owns me. "GRRK-GRRK-GRRK-GRRK-" Each grunt drives another SPURT. I feel them individually: distinct THROBS of his shaft followed by wet PULSES of pressure inside my womb. His cock is a living thing back there, a creature with its own agenda, FLEXING and KICKING and SPITTING its poison deeper and deeper. "NNNGH-" I bite down on my own forearm. The orgasm is RIGHT THERE: a hair's breadth away. Every muscle in my pelvis SCREAMING at me to just LET GO, just CLENCH, just give in to the pressure building behind my pubic bone- I DON'T. (sperm:"BLORRRT-SPLRT-GLORRRP",4,"splurt 7")His seed is too much for my womb to hold. I feel it FORCING its way back out around his shaft: hot, thick, OOZING down my taint, my inner thighs, DRIPPING from my pussy in heavy yellowed STRINGS that I can hear hitting the dirt beneath me. *Pat-pat-pat-pat.* The stench rises in a CLOUD: rancid and fertile and ALIVE. "GRRRAAAHK-HRRRRK-" His final thrust GRINDS his pelvis against my ass, and I feel a ROPE of it spray across the inside of me with enough force to make my belly CLENCH- And then he STILLS. Panting. Both of us panting. The hut stinks of breeding. My thighs are GLAZED with his runoff, thick and clotted, and I can feel it cooling on my skin in slow rivulets that track all the way to my knees. His cock *softens* inside me. I feel the change: the locked flare of his cockhead DEFLATING, contracting, and then with a wet *schlrrrrp* he slides free, dragging a GUSH of seed with him that SPLURTS across my upturned ass in ropy strings.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:500,0.45),(a:1000,0.36),(a:1500,0.28),(a:2000,0.20),(a:2500,0.14),(a:3000,0.08),(a:3500,0)))) More of it BLOATS from my gaping cunt in a slow, heavy pour, *glorrrp*, pooling beneath me in a steaming puddle. And I haven't cum. (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(hidden_gem:"I HAVEN'T CUM. The realization hits me like cold water and I start *laughing*.","I HAVEN'T CUM. The realization visits like a vision-vivid, vast, a vault of vindication vaulting open somewhere between my vertebrae and my vanity, and what erupts from my throat is not orgasm but *victory*-violent, vulgar, vainglorious laughter from a voice that has finally found something in this vile ordeal worth voicing.") It comes out broken and hysterical: this high, breathless GIGGLE that sounds insane even to my own ears, my face still pressed into the dirt, cum still oozing out of me in thick *blurrts* with each exhale. But I'm LAUGHING. Laughing and shaking and CRYING all at once because- "You LOST!" I gasp, rolling onto my side. Seed SPURTS from between my legs with the movement, spattering the ground. "You lost, you miserable little WORM! You came and I DIDN'T! Your deal was-" "HRUK." Snib sits back on his haunches, his spent cock hanging between his thighs, glistening. His yellow eyes are flat. "Me deal," he says slowly, "was that ye'd satisfy me." "And you CAME! You-" "Look down, hero." I look. His cock is *twitching*. Thickening. The shaft that was soft as a dead eel moments ago is FILLING again, rising from his thigh with the slow, inexorable certainty of a drawbridge being raised. Six inches. Eight. Ten. The veins SWELL back to prominence, mapping his shaft in angry rivers. The head DARKENS from grey-green to that furious purple. "Ye think ONE nut satisfies a gobbo?" His broken teeth show in a grin that makes my stomach fall through the floor. "One nut's a WARM-UP! It's what we DO, hero! It's what goblins was BUILT fer!" "No-" The laughter dies in my throat. "Gonna BREED ye proper this time." He's already on his feet, his cock fully hard again, bobbing with each step as he approaches. "Gonna make ye SQUEAL." "Freckle-tits, clean up the hero-hole." He jerks his chin at me. "She's leakin' everywhere."(simple_option:"04 elara help","Elara scrambles to you.")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",16,"peakFrom",0.98,"peakTo",0.14,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",900,"attackMs",42,"holdMs",100,"releaseMs",120,"gapIntensity",0.03,"peakCurve","plateau","intensityJitter",0.05,"gapJitter",0.12,"pulseJitter",0.08,"buildMs",2000,"buildFrom",0.30,"buildSteps",10,"aftershocks",6,"aftershockIntensity",0.14,"aftershockGap",1400,"aftershockWidth",65))(vid:"img/ch02/bad end/early fuck/orgasm.mp4")($play:"song","goblin ending") When I break, it's like a FLOOR collapsing beneath me: one moment I'm standing on something solid and the next there's *nothing*, just freefall, just my entire body EXPLODING from cunt to crown in a chain of white-hot PULSES that make my jaw UNHINGE and my tongue FLOP out of my mouth and- "AAAUUUUGGHHHNNNNN-" No word. No moan. The sound a city makes when it FALLS: the collective groan of every stone and timber giving way at once. My eyes roll until there's nothing but white. Drool spills from my open mouth onto the dirt in a long, silver strand. My arms give out and my face HITS the packed earth and I don't even feel it because every nerve I own is being CONSUMED by the orgasm ripping through me- (hidden_gem:"Aldric the Great died on a dirt floor with his tongue out and goblin cock in his womb.","Aldric the Great died on a dirt floor-drooling, defeated, debased beyond all dignity, destroyed not by dragon or demon but by the dumb, drumming persistence of a dwarf-sized degenerate's dick.") "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK-THERE SHE GOES!" Snib's fist TIGHTENS in my hair. "All that RESISTIN' just made it WORSE, didn't it, cunt? SQUEEZED me cock so hard ye fuckin' BROKE YERSELF!" He's right. The clenching I did to FIGHT the orgasm turned my internal muscles into a COILED SPRING that's now RELEASING, and each spasm is STRONGER than the last, my womb CLAMPING around his embedded cockhead in waves that make my whole body JERK like a puppet with cut strings- *THWOCK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.85),(a:80,0.50),(a:200,0.30),(a:400,0),"resumeAfter",true))) One shallow thrust inside my womb and the orgasm PEAKS again. The first one hasn't FINISHED. A new SPIKE drives into the existing wave, and I SQUEAL, SQUEAL like a- *THWOCK.* ANOTHER spike. My cunt SPASMS so hard my hips buck BACKWARD against him, SEEKING more, and a gush of fluid SPRAYS from around his shaft onto his balls with a wet *PSSSHHT-* *THWOCK.* "Ev-uh-ree time-HRRK-I push-she CUMS again!" Snib is panting, his voice guttural and AMAZED. "Hero-cunt's got a WOMB full of CUM-BUTTONS!" "Oh *gods-*" Elara's voice. Wrecked. Her hand is between her own legs. I can hear the wet *shlick-shlick* of her fingers. "She's-Snib, she's cumming so *hard-*" Each thrust sends his cockhead GRINDING across the back of my womb, and the tissue there is saturated with his pheromone-laden precum, ABSORBING it directly into my blood, and the effect is- *THWOCK.* (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/break.jpg","-the effect is my thoughts turning to SMOKE-") -the effect is my thoughts turning to SMOKE- *THWOCK.* -every memory of sword-drills and battle-hymns and Elara's garden dissolving like salt in hot water- *THWOCK.* -replaced by NOTHING. *Absence*. The sound of my own voice making noises I've never made, wet and broken and *grateful-* "Nnnuhh-nnnnuhh-*nnnuhhh-*" "She sounds like a sow," Elara whispers, and her voice has gone somewhere DARK. "She sounds like a *breeding sow.*" "That's 'cause she IS one!" Snib GRUNTS. His rhythm changes. Goes BRUTAL. His claws dig into the meat of my ass hard enough to draw blood and his scrawny hips PISTON with the mechanical fury of a creature in full breeding-frenzy, each downward stroke accompanied by a grunt that sounds less like pleasure and more like *rage-* "GONNA FUCKIN'-HRRRK-BREED YE-HRRRK-GET PREGNANT, YE USELESS CUNT-!" His cock THROBS inside me. I can feel the SHAFT itself swelling, FLEXING, the veins along it engorging until I can feel each one individually pressing against my inner walls. His cock is doing something his brain isn't commanding. It's PREPARING, it's- "EVERY GOBBO PUP YE EVER KILLED-" *THWOCK.* "-YER GONNA BIRTH THEIR REPLACEMENTS-" *THWOCK.* "-OUT OF THIS HERO-HOLE-" *THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK.* "-YE AND YER WIFE BOTH-!" His ballsack CLENCHES. I feel it against my pussy lips: those fat hairy plums DRAWING UP tight, the skin going drum-taut, and deep inside me his cock does something that makes me SCREAM- It *LOCKS.* His cockhead EXPANDS inside my womb, FLATTENS, WIDENS, and suddenly I'm *sealed*, plugged from the inside, his breeding-equipment doing what goblins' diseased evolution designed it to do. "HRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHH-!" The first rope of cum hits the back of my womb like a fist. (sperm:"GLORRRRP",5,"splurt 4 internal")So hot it feels like swallowed fire. And THICK: *packed*, clotted MASS that slams against my uterine wall with enough force that I feel the impact in my SPINE. My body JERKS forward- "HRRRRK-TAKE IT-TAKE ME FUCKIN' PUPS-!" (sperm:"BLORRRRRT",5,"splurt 3 internal")I can feel it *spreading* inside me, coating every surface, filling every fold. (sperm:"SPLORRRT-GLORRP-BLURRRRRT",5,"splurt 6")Three-four-five, each pump accompanied by a CLENCH of his balls against my mound, each one injecting a fresh payload of that dense, reeking, pheromone-saturated sludge directly into my unprotected womb, and the stuff *works*, *burrows*, the same potency I tasted from Elara's cunt now being delivered to the SOURCE, flooding through womb-tissue into blood into- I cum again. My entire body goes RIGID-toes CURLED, fingers CLAWING dirt-and I SQUIRT around his locked shaft, clear fluid jetting from me in rhythmic PULSES that splatter the ground beneath us- "*YOU BROKE!*" Elara's voice CUTS through everything. I turn my head-my drool-soaked, dirt-smeared, tongue-lolling head-and see my wife on her knees with her hand BURIED between her legs, her face CONTORTED, tears and something ELSE streaming down her cheeks- "You BROKE on his cock! After everything! After all your promises!" Her voice CRACKS into a register I've never heard-half fury, half orgasm. "You're not my HUSBAND! Aldric would have DIED first! He would have-" *BLORRRT.* Another pump of cum. My womb CLENCHES around it, DRINKS it in- (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise creampie.jpg","BLLLOOOORRRRRT.") "-he would have BITTEN THROUGH HIS TONGUE before he'd-look at you! DROOLING! Tongue hanging out like a-like a-" She cums. I watch it happen-her thighs CLAMPING around her own hand, her back arching, her mouth falling open in an expression that MIRRORS mine- "We're both his WHORES now!" she SHRIEKS. "Both his gobbo-BRED WHORES! CUM FOR HIM! CUM FOR YOUR *MASTER!*" And I do. Elise cums. Elise cums and cums and CUMS, her pussy CONVULSING around locked goblin cock as her womb is PACKED with seed, as her wife screams filth, as the creature on her back GRUNTS and PUMPS and EMPTIES himself into the woman who once killed his kind by the dozen- (sperm:"BLORT. BLORT. BLORT",3,"splurt 8")Each pump a diminishing return, the LAST dregs being squeezed from balls that have been saving this for WEEKS, for the moment they could empty themselves into a conquered hero's breeding-chamber. His cock softens. Contracts. The seal RELEASES. *SCHLORRRRRRP.* He pulls free, and something *leaves* with him, some final structural support that was holding me together, because I COLLAPSE, face-first, ass still raised, and the cum- (sperm:"BLOOOORRRT",5,"splurt 9")-it floods OUT of me. Thick as cold porridge, yellowed-white, STEAMING in the cool air, oozing between my thighs in heavy ropes that stretch and SAG and puddle beneath me. The STENCH fills the hut-the same reek I tasted from Elara's cunt but CONCENTRATED, FRESH from the source, so potent I can feel it in my TEETH. And I'm still cumming. The orgasm won't STOP. Even without his cock inside me, my womb keeps SPASMING, keeps CLENCHING on nothing, each contraction BLURTING another glob of his seed from between my twitching lips. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" Snib climbs off me. I feel his weight leave my back like a siege-tower retreating. *CRACK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.70),(a:800,0.68),(a:1600,0.72),(a:2400,0.70),(a:3200,0.74),(a:3500,0.72),(a:3800,0.76),(a:4000,0.48),(a:4200,0.32),(a:4400,0.18),(a:4600,0)))) His palm across my right ass-cheek. *CRACK.* The left. "Look at THIS!" *CRACK.* "The great HERO!" *CRACK.* "Can't stop CUMMIN'!" *CRACK-CRACK-CRACK.* Each spank sends my ass-cheeks RIPPLING and triggers ANOTHER aftershock and I ARCH my back and MEWL, this high broken sound that doesn't belong to any warrior who ever lived- "Nnnnuhhh-nnnuhh-*please-*" "Please WHAT?" *CRACK.* "Please MORE? Please BREED me again?" *CRACK.* "Say it proper!" "Nnnn-nnnnn-" "HRUK! She can't even TALK! Fucked the words right out of her!" He turns. His yellow eyes find Elara, who sits in her own puddle, trembling, glazed. "Oi, fire-cunt. Watch THIS." I hear the sound before I feel it. A *hissssss.* Liquid. Warm. Hitting the small of my back in a steady, steaming ARC that fans across my skin and trickles down the crack of my ass to mingle with the cum still oozing from my ruined cunt. He's *pissing* on me. LEISURELY.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:500,0.28),(a:1000,0.36),(a:1500,0.40),(a:2500,0.42),(a:3500,0.40),(a:4500,0.42),(a:5500,0.38),(a:6500,0.40),(a:7500,0.36),(a:8500,0.30),(a:9500,0.22),(a:10000,0.28),(a:10200,0.18),(a:10400,0.10),(a:10600,0)))) The way a dog marks a post it plans to return to. I can feel the heat of it spreading across my lower back, running in rivulets down my sides, pooling in the hollow of my spine before overflowing. The SMELL, sharp, ammoniac, cutting through even the breeding-reek, fills my nostrils. "Always wanted to do that," Snib says conversationally, aiming the stream up between my shoulder blades. "Piss on ye. Mark me PROPERTY." The stream moves to my hair. My *hair.* "Oi, fire-cunt-this one's MINE now. Ye can share the straw pile, but this WOMB-" He redirects the stream between my legs, directly onto my still-twitching pussy. "-belongs to SNIB." Elara doesn't respond. She stares at me with those blown-dark eyes. "Ye'll both carry me pups," Snib continues, shaking the last drops onto my ass. "Breeding season's just STARTED." I lie there. Face in the dirt. Piss-soaked. Cum-flooded. Still twitching with aftershocks that won't fade. And somewhere in the wreckage of my thoughts, there's something I was supposed to *remember-* Something about a... collar? A silence? A *choice* I was meant to make? The thought surfaces like a bubble in tar. Hangs there for one moment. I reach for it- It pops. (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/elise creampie.jpg","BLLLOOOORRRRRT.") There's nothing underneath.(simple_option:"04 day12 routine","The days pass...")]($play:"song","ironrock theme")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",1200,"forever",true))(pic:"ch04/bad end/encouragement.jpg","'You can do this,' she whispers against my pussy.") Elara scrambles to me. She's flushed from hairline to chest, her pupils blown to black coins, and when she kneels between my trembling thighs and lowers her mouth to my cum-flooded cunt I feel her tongue-warm, desperate, LAPPING at the mess of seed that's still oozing from me. "You can do this," she whispers against my pussy, and a glob of goblin cum slides from her lower lip back onto my mound. Her eyes find mine-huge, wet, almost FEVERISH. "You're the strongest person I know. You fought a DRAGON. You can survive-" Her tongue drags through the thick cream pooling at my entrance and she SHUDDERS, swallowing, her own hand sliding between HER legs. "-one more round," she finishes, breathless. "Just don't break. Don't break, darling, you CAN'T, if you break then everything we-" Snib SHOVES her aside. She tumbles onto the straw with a yelp, goblin seed smeared across her chin. And then he's ON me. He PUSHES me onto my back, my tits FLOPPING to either side of my ribcage with a meaty *CLAP*, and JUMPS onto my body like a child climbing a horse. His knees pin my thighs apart. His cock, hard again, angry again, SLAPS against my belly with a wet *THWACK* that leaves a smear of old cum and fresh precum across my skin. He grabs my jaw. Forces me to look UP. Into those yellow eyes. "Round TWO, hero. Just like I fucked yer wife!" His hips DROP. His cock finds my entrance and PLUNGES home in one savage stroke.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.80),(a:80,0.60),(a:180,0.68),(a:300,0.55),(a:450,0.48),(a:600,0.42),(a:800,0.38)))) I feel him punch through my still-dilated cervix like it isn't even THERE, feel that cock-head re-enter my womb, feel the leftover seed inside me SQUISH and DISPLACED around his shaft- And over his warty shoulder, I see Elara, sprawled on the straw, one hand between her legs, the other pressed to her mouth, staring at me with those desperate sapphire eyes. *Don't break*, she mouths.(minigame:"04 final check",15)

(if:$choice is "Succeed Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.72,"peakTo",0.82,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",380,"intervalTo",280,"attackMs",26,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",68,"rampBeats",6,"intensityJitter",0.12,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10))*SPLCK-SPLCK-SPLCK-SPLCK-SPLCK-* His hips are PISTONS. Each downstroke drives his full weight through his cock and into my womb, and my ass BOUNCES off the packed earth with every impact, my tits LURCHING sideways in opposite directions before CRASHING back together with wet *CLOPS* that keep time with his rutting. "HRRRK-HRRRK-HRRRK-" I stare straight up into his face. Those yellow eyes, that warty snout, that broken-toothed maw panting goblin breath directly into my nostrils. This close I can count every pore, every bristle of hair on his chin, every crusted fleck of old food in his teeth. "Is that- ngh- ALL you've got?" I snarl up at him, and my voice is WRECKED-hoarse and breathy and dripping with sounds I'd rather die than acknowledge-but the WORDS are mine. "I've taken DRAGON FIRE across my shield-arm! You think your pathetic little RUNT-COCK is going to-*NNGH*-going to BREAK me?" His eyes NARROW. His claws find my tits-SINK into the soft flesh-and he SQUEEZES until I gasp, then drops his warty mouth onto my left nipple and BITES. "AHHH-!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:80,0.38),(a:200,0.44),(a:350,0.30),(a:500,0.35),(a:650,0.22),(a:800,0.15),(a:1000,0),"resumeAfter",true))) Worse than pain. His grey tongue lashes across the hardened peak while his teeth hold it prisoner, and the sensation shoots from my nipple to my womb like a bolt-shaft on a taut wire. My back arches OFF the ground- *SPLCK-SPLCK-SPLCK-* "Go ahead!" I hiss through clenched teeth. "SUCK them! Gobble my tits like the pathetic little RUNT you are! You'll NEVER-*nnngh*-never make me-" He switches to the right. Latches on with that horrible wet SUCTION(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.35,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",800,"forever",true)), his cheeks hollowing, his tongue doing something VICIOUS to the tip that makes my vision go WHITE at the edges. His cock CHURNS inside my womb, grinding against the back wall in circular motions while his mouth works my nipple with an ANGRY desperation. "She's winning," Elara breathes from somewhere to my left. Her voice is SHAKING. "Oh gods, she's actually-*ahhhh*-" A wet, rhythmic sound. She's touching herself. CUMMING, from watching me get mounted. "CUM, you fuck!" I grab his EARS, those pointed, leathery things, and YANK his face off my tit. Force him to look at me. Green eyes meeting yellow. Hero meeting monster. "Give me EVERYTHING! Every drop of your rancid goblin SEED! Squirt it into me! I'LL STILL BE HERE WHEN YOU'RE FINISHED!" *WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-* His balls are SPANKING my ass with every thrust now: fat, hairy sacks swinging forward on the downstroke to CRACK against my upturned cheeks(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.75,"peakTo",0.85,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",320,"intervalTo",260,"attackMs",24,"sustainMs",38,"releaseMs",60,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.12)), leaving the skin STINGING and raw. The sound fills the hut like applause at my own degradation. "HRRRK-SHUT UP-" His rhythm is getting RAGGED. Losing its mechanical precision. "-SHUT YER CUM-HOLE-" "What's wrong, MASTER?" I bare my teeth at him. "Getting TIRED? Is the big strong gobbo running out of STEAM?" His face CONTORTS. He grabs BOTH my tits, one in each warty fist, and MASHES them together around his face, burying himself in my cleavage, his tongue LAPPING frantically at the sweat pooled between them while his hips JACKHAMMER with renewed fury. *SPLCK-SPLCK-SPLCK-SPLCK-SPLCK-SPLCK-* "AAHHH-AHHHH-" Elara's cries pierce through the wet percussion. She's on her third orgasm. I can hear her SQUIRTING-that pressurized HISS-while she watches a goblin rut her wife into the dirt. And I'm GROANING. I won't pretend I'm not. Every thrust sends a SHOCKWAVE of pleasure from my stuffed womb through my entire body, makes my toes CURL, makes my fingers DIG into the earth, makes sounds come out of me that would make a dockside whore BLUSH. My cunt is so wet it's FROTHING around his shaft, white foam collecting at the junction where his body meets mine- But I DON'T. FUCKING. BREAK. "Ye-ye CAN'T-" His thrusts are STUTTERING now. His balls have drawn up TIGHT. His cock is doing that thing again-SWELLING, HARDENING beyond hard, the veins STANDING out like ship-rigging in a gale. "-no HUMIE can-" "I faced much WORSE TODAY!" I grab his FACE. Force those yellow eyes to meet mine. "You think your COCK is scarier than a Sandwalker war-chief? CUM IN ME, GOBLIN! Fill me up and WATCH ME SMILE!" "GRRRRAAAAAHK-!" His whole body LOCKS. I feel his cock KICK inside my womb, once, twice, and then the FLOOD. (sperm:"BLURRRRRT-SPLRT-GLORRRP",5,"splurt 7")Hot. DENSE. Each pulse a massive GLOB of seed slamming against the back of my womb like stones from a catapult. His face is TWISTED in agony-ecstasy, teeth bared, eyes squeezed shut, and I stare up at him through the whole thing with my jaw SET, watching this miserable creature EMPTY himself into the body of the woman who slaughtered his kin- (sperm:"SPLRT-BLORT-SPLRT",4,"splurt 5")"More," I whisper. My voice is SHAKING but my eyes are STEADY. "Is that all? Give me MORE." (sperm:"GLORRRP",3,"splurt 2")Cum FORCES its way out around his shaft. There's no room left. It SQUELCHES between our bodies, running in hot rivers down my ass-cheeks and pooling beneath me. My tits are HEAVING against his face, my nipples leaving wet trails across his warty cheeks. Every nerve in my body is ON FIRE- (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise final creampie.jpg") But the wall HOLDS. (sperm:"SPLRT",2,"splurt 1") (sperm:"splrt",1,"splurt 2") *...drip.* His thrusts slow. His eyes OPEN. Those yellow irises find mine and I see something I've never seen in them before. *Fear.* "Ye didn't-" His voice is a RASP. "-ye fuckin'-how-" "I DIDN'T," I confirm, and the grin that splits my face feels like putting on armour. His cock is SOFTENING inside me. I can feel it SHRINKING, retreating, losing its war. He scrambles backward. YANKS himself free with a desperate *SCHLORRP*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.60),(a:300,0.40),(a:600,0.25),(a:900,0.12),(a:1200,0)))) and my cunt GUSHES his seed in a steaming TORRENT that paints the dirt between us. (change_stat:"snib",2)He lands on his haunches three feet away. Panting. His cock hangs limp and WET, still drooling the last threads of his spend. His balls look DEFLATED: wrinkled empty purses that have given everything they had. And I'm lying in a LAKE of goblin cum, my tits heaving, my pussy gaping and LEAKING, my hair matted with sweat and filth, but my green eyes are BLAZING. (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/i wont give up.jpg","My green eyes are BLAZING. 'The deal.'") "The deal," I say. My voice RINGS through the hut. "You SWORE on the collar." Snib stares at me. Across the hut, Elara is sobbing with relief, her hand still between her legs. Relief. That's what I call it, because I have to call it something. But I held, and the lie we told each other at the gate turns every day of the last week into something she chose. The fire crackles. And for the first time since the collar closed around my throat, the silence in this room belongs to ME.(simple_option:"04 titfuck","'Say the words, Snib.'")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")*THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK-* His yellow eyes bore into mine from six inches above. This close I can see every cracked capillary in those sickly irises, every fleck of crust in his lashes, every broken tooth in his grinning mouth as he DROPS his weight onto me again and again and again. *THWOCK-SPLCK-THWOCK-SPLCK-* "There she is," he pants. "There's me hero. I can see it in yer EYES, sword-cunt-" "NNNNGH-no-NO-" *THWOCK.* "-yer DONE-" *THWOCK.* "-yer MINE-" *THWOCK-THWOCK-THWOCK-* It starts in my toes. Something that has been coiling in my marrow for days-since the first night his musk coated my sinuses, since the first morning I woke WET, since the first time my cunt CLENCHED at the sound of his voice. Every denied orgasm, every swallowed moan, every night spent grinding my thighs together while pretending to sleep. All of it. ALL of it. Compressed into a single white-hot KNOT behind my pubic bone that has been waiting, PATIENTLY, for this exact configuration of cock and womb and yellow eyes staring down. "-HRRRK-SAY IT-" "I won't-I WON'T-" The knot *explodes.* "AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH-!" My back ARCHES off the dirt so hard only my shoulders and heels touch ground. My cunt CLAMPS around his shaft with a force that makes him GRUNT, my womb SEIZING in rolling contractions that MILK his cockhead in rhythmic WAVES. My mouth falls open and my eyes roll up and I can feel my own juices SPRAYING around his shaft, SPLATTERING his balls, soaking the dirt beneath us. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK-THERE IT IS!" Snib spits into my open mouth. The glob of goblin saliva lands on my tongue and I SWALLOW it without thinking, my throat working on pure reflex, and the pheromones in his spit hit my bloodstream like a key turning in a lock that's been JAMMED for weeks. Everything that was holding the corruption BACK, every wall, every prayer, every memory of who I was, goes *quiet.* (pic:"ch04/bad end/elise final creampie.jpg") Snuffed. Like a candle between wet fingers. "SHE BROKE!" Elara *SHRIEKS* from beside us, and the sound that comes out of her isn't horror. It's something rawer. "Oh GODS she broke-she's CUMMING on your cock-she's-" Her hand is between her legs. Pumping. Frantic. Her crystal blue eyes are glazed and streaming tears and she's CUMMING too, cumming from WATCHING, her tits heaving as her whole body shakes. "You're not-" she gasps, her voice cracking into pieces. "You're not my HUSBAND anymore-you're his fucking-his WHORE-" "GRRRRAAAHK-TAKE IT-TAKE ME SEED, HERO-HOLE-" Snib's cock FLEXES inside my womb and I feel him ERUPT. Hot and THICK and ENDLESS, each spurt a separate KICK against the back of my uterus, and this time my body doesn't resist it at all. "NNNHH-AHHH-AHHH-AHHHHHH-" I'm making wordless sounds. My legs are WRAPPED around his scrawny green waist. My HEELS are digging into his warty ass, pulling him DEEPER, and I can't stop them, can't stop my hips from GRINDING up against him, can't stop my cunt from SQUEEZING and MILKING and trying to get every last DROP out of those fat churning balls- "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK-STILL NUTTIN'-STILL PUMPIN' YER WOMB FULL-" I can feel it OVERFLOWING. Thick seed FORCING past his shaft, BLOATING from my stuffed cunt in heavy *BLORRTS* that splatter the ground beneath us. The STENCH fills the hut-fermented and ALIVE-and every breath I take pulls more pheromones into my lungs and each molecule finds a neuron and REWRITES it. "Fuck her HARDER-" Elara moans from the straw, three fingers buried in herself, her voice gone STUPID with arousal. "Fuck her harder, Snib-RUIN her-she's not-she was never-oh GODS I'm cumming AGAIN-" *THWOCK-SPLCK-BLORRRT-* He HILTS one final time and I feel his balls CLENCH against my taint and the last SURGE of seed punches into me with enough force to make my belly CRAMP. The orgasm doesn't end. It *changes shape.* Becomes something I live INSIDE. A warm, sticky, pheromone-soaked room with no doors. *Who was I trying to be?* The thought drifts past like smoke. *There was something. A name. A sword. Someone tall.* Gone.(simple_option:"04 doggy round","Later.")]($play:"song","ironrock theme")

(badendsave:"uncollared")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/3.png")His cock *twitches.*($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")($play:"song","giles theme")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire") My blood goes cold. I watch, PRAYING to every Ephemeral that I'm wrong, as that grey-green shaft gives a lazy, obscene FLEX against his thigh. Then another. Then it begins to LENGTHEN, uncoiling from its spent state like a serpent waking from a nap, THICKENING as it rises, a strand of old cum FLICKING from the tip as it swells past vertical. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK..." Snib's laughter starts low. A wet, rattling GURGLE deep in his chest that builds and builds until it fills the hut. "Told ye," he wheezes, his cock now fully hard AGAIN, bobbing with his heartbeat. "Goblins was BUILT fer this. And ye-" He gestures at me with it, that massive green truncheon swaying like a weapon. "-ye're already SHAKIN'. One more round and yer DONE, hero. Yer cunt'll BREAK like-" I *move toward him.* Before his yellow eyes can even WIDEN I'm on my knees in front of him, and (hidden_gem:"I grab both of my tits-these massive, cum-slicked, sweat-heavy SACKS of flesh that have been the instruments of my humiliation for days-and I SLAM them around his cock.","I grab both of my tits-these fat, faithless, foul slabs of feminine flesh that have functioned as instruments of my downfall for a full fortnight-and FLING them around his cock like a fighter finally finding a use for the flail she's been forced to carry.")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.32,"peakTo",0.48,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.14,"intervalFrom",600,"intervalTo",400,"attackMs",70,"sustainMs",45,"releaseMs",85,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.12,"depthJitter",0.06)) "WHA-" Snib stumbles backward but I FOLLOW, on my knees, shuffling through the puddle of his own sperm, keeping his shaft BURIED in the channel of my cleavage. My tits ENGULF him: swallowing every inch until only the purple tip peeks out near my chin, and I SQUEEZE. "NO FAIR!" he squeals, his voice going HIGH. "That's-ye can't just-HRRRRK-" "Shut. UP." (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/taunting titfuck.jpg","right","And I look up into his eyes and I let the pheromones IN.")I start to MOVE. Up. Down. DRAGGING my tits along his shaft in long, slow strokes that make a *SQUELCH-SCHLCK-SQUELCH* sound as his old cum lubricates the passage. His cockhead pokes free at the top of each stroke, glistening, DROOLING, before being swallowed back into the pale canyon of my breasts. And I look up into his eyes and I let the pheromones IN. I stop fighting them. Stop resisting. For the first time since the collar closed around my throat, I OPEN the door and let that chemical fog FLOOD through every corridor of my mind, let it soften every edge, let it turn my thoughts to warm honey, and I use it. I *weaponize* it. "You like this?" My voice comes out THROATY. Wet. A voice I've never used before: the voice this body was DESIGNED to produce, dripping with sex like a comb drips with honey. "You like these fat humie UDDERS wrapped around your cock? Look at them. LOOK at what you did to a hero of the realm." *SQUELCH-SCHLCK-SQUELCH.* His eyes are GLAZING. His hips have started to thrust on their own, tiny involuntary JERKS that push his cock deeper into my tit-pussy. "What's the MATTER?" I snarl down at him. My hair hangs around us both like a black curtain. Cum drips from my chin onto his belly. "Don't you WANT this? Isn't this what you DREAMED about? The great hero of Eboncrest wrapping her big, fat, STUPID cow-tits around your disgusting green PRICK?" "HRRRK-too FAST-ye're-" His warty hands are scrabbling at my shoulders, trying to push me away, but his hips keep THRUSTING, his cock keeps SLIDING through the slick valley I've made for it. "I've KILLED hundreds of your kind." *SQUELCH.* "Cut them down like WEEDS." *SCHLCK.* "And now their SLAYER is using her own TITS-" *SQUELCH.* "-to drain a goblin's balls like a common MILK-MAID at the pail." "HRRRRK-!" His head falls back. His cock KICKS between my breasts, that pre-orgasmic SWELLING that I recognize now(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.48),(a:400,0.52),(a:800,0.56),(a:1200,0.60),(a:1600,0.58),(a:2000,0.62),(a:2400,0.60)))), that I can FEEL through the soft tissue of my chest. "CUM for me, you wretched little creature." I press my tits together so tight the flesh goes WHITE.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.44,"peakTo",0.55,"baseFrom",0.20,"baseTo",0.18,"intervalFrom",440,"intervalTo",320,"attackMs",55,"sustainMs",35,"releaseMs",65,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.12,"depthJitter",0.06)) "This is what you WANTED, isn't it? To see me REDUCED to a pair of cum-catching UDDERS and a sloppy FUCK-HOLE for your disgusting green COCK?" I drag my tongue across his cockhead as it emerges from my cleavage and the TASTE, rancid, thick, goblin-musk, makes my eyes water and my cunt THROB but I don't STOP. "Look at me LICKING it! The dragon-slayer is LICKING goblin cock-cheese off your nasty little PRICK! This is what educated, CIVILIZED human women are FOR, isn't it? Wrapping their soft, fat, USELESS tits around goblin meat and SQUEEZING until your filthy seed RUINS their pretty faces-" "GRRRK-GONNA-CAN'T-" "Does it feel GOOD?" I pant, and there's genuine RAGE in my voice now, rage and something ELSE that makes my pussy clench and my nipples THROB. "Does it feel good to know that you brought the Hero of Eboncrest SO LOW that she's JERKING your cock with her own disgusting FUCK-PILLOWS?" "GRRRK-GRRRRK-gonna-" "DO IT!" I scream up at him, and the sound that comes from me is somehow both a war-cry and a moan, both Aldric's fury and Elise's surrender braided into something NEW. "PAINT me! Cover my face in your STINKING goblin CUM! Use me as your TOILET! RUIN me! Show me what a HERO is WORTH to your kind!" "GRRRRAAAAAAAHK-!" His balls CLENCH against the underside of my tits. His cock BUCKS-(simple_option:"04 titfuck cum","And he cums.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/taunting titfuck cum.jpg","left","'MORE!' I SQUEEZE his cock with my tits and PUMP. 'Give me MORE!'")($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging")(playwhenread:"cum 1")The first rope hits me under the chin with enough force to SNAP my head back. SCALDING hot, it drapes across my throat like a molten necklace and immediately begins oozing down into my cleavage. "MORE!" I SQUEEZE his cock with my tits and PUMP. "Give me MORE!" (sperm:"SPLRT",3,"splurt 1")Across my left cheek. I feel it SLIDING over my cheekbone toward my ear, heavy and clinging, refusing to drip. (sperm:"SPLRT-SPLRT",3,"splurt 5")Both eyes. I'm BLIND: thick goblin seed SEALING my lashes shut, coating my brow, DRIPPING from my nose. I open my mouth and a rope lands across my TONGUE and I DON'T GAG. I let it sit there. Let him SEE it. Every hole is filled.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.50,"amplitude",0.14,"periodMs",950,"forever",true)) It's spraying UPWARD to catch my chin, my lips, RUNNING in rivers down both breasts, turning the pale flesh YELLOW-WHITE with spent seed. His knees BUCKLE. Snib collapses backward onto the dirt, his cock SLAPPING wetly against his belly, finally, FINALLY going soft. His chest heaves. His yellow eyes stare at the ceiling, unfocused. I kneel there, DRIPPING, PLASTERED in his seed from hairline to navel, cum BUBBLING between my lips with each breath. "ELISE!" Elara CRASHES into me. Her arms wrap around my cum-slicked body and she's KISSING me, open-mouthed, FRANTIC, her tongue lapping goblin seed off my cheeks, my lips, my eyelids. She sucks a glob of cum from my lower lip and SWALLOWS it and then kisses me DEEPER, our tongues sliding together through the thick coating of his spend, and her hands are in my hair and my hands are on her face and we're SOBBING into each other's mouths. She swallows without seeming to notice. Tonight she chooses me through the haze. Tonight, that has to be enough. "You DID it-" she gasps between kisses. "-you incredible-beautiful-" She licks a rope of cum from my neck. "-stubborn-impossible-pretty-" Another kiss, SLOPPIER, her chin DRIPPING. She WIGGLES her bare ass in Snib's direction, a final taunt, and pulls back to look at me with those sapphire eyes shining through a mask of transferred seed. "Make him say it," she whispers. "Make him set you FREE." I turn to Snib. He's sitting in the dirt, small and pathetic, his cock a wet noodle draped over his thigh. His yellow eyes find mine and I see it: FURY. Humiliation. The dawning understanding that he brought a hero into his bed and she BROKE HIM instead.(simple_option:"04 free me","The WORDS, Snib.")

($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")"The WORDS, Snib." My voice is IRON beneath the moaning. He's lying on his back. Staring at the ceiling. His cock is a wet, shriveled thing draped across his thigh. His chest heaves. His yellow eyes are BLANK. "Can't," he mutters. "Won't." "You SWORE. On the collar." "I KNOW what I-" His face CONTORTS. Something is happening inside him. I can SEE it: a battle playing out behind those yellow eyes, his jaw clenching and UNCLENCHING, his warty hands balling into fists. The collar HUMS against my throat. Still sleeping, but RESONATING with something deeper(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:600,0.14),(a:1200,0.20),(a:1800,0.24),(a:2400,0.28),(a:3000,0.26),(a:3600,0.28),(a:4200,0.30),(a:4800,0.28),(a:5400,0.26),(a:6000,0.24)))), something in the old magic that recognizes an oath being CONTESTED. "GRRRK-" Snib CLUTCHES his own head. "-shut UP, ye stupid-I don't WANT to-" "You HAVE to," I say. "You swore on the binding." "GRRRAAAAAHK!" He THRASHES on the floor-kicks his legs, pounds his fists, his whole body WRITHING like a beetle flipped onto its back. "I HATE ye! I HATE YER TITS AND YER FACE AND YER-" The collar goes *cold* against my throat. Then- *Click.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.20),(a:50,0.04),(a:200,0)))) The softest sound I've ever heard. A mechanism RELEASING. A lock finding its key. "RRRRRGH-*Elise-is-freed-from-binding-no-longer-property-of-Snib*-GRRRRK!" The words POUR from him like vomit, unwilling, agonized, dragged from his throat by forces older than either of us. His face is PURPLE with rage. The collar *opens.* It falls from my neck and hits the dirt floor with a CLANG that echoes through the hut, through the desert, through my BONES.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:200,0.32),(a:500,0.24),(a:900,0.16),(a:1400,0.10),(a:2000,0.06),(a:2800,0.02),(a:3600,0)))) (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/transform back.png","Snib's cum begins to sizzle off my skin...") The sensation starts in my chest. A PULLING, not painful but IMMENSE(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:1000,0.16),(a:2000,0.24),(a:3000,0.32),(a:4000,0.40),(a:5000,0.48),(a:6000,0.54),(a:7000,0.58),(a:8000,0.60),(a:9000,0.58),(a:10000,0.54),(a:11000,0.48),(a:12000,0.40),(a:14000,0.30),(a:16000,0.20),(a:18000,0.10),(a:20000,0)))), like something being wound back onto a spool. My tits, these massive, hated, cum-covered weights, begin to *flatten*. The tissue COMPRESSES, retracts, drawing inward toward my ribcage like bread dough being kneaded back into the bowl. I feel the fat DISSOLVING, transmuting, becoming something DENSER. *Muscle.* It floods my arms first. The soft flesh HARDENS: biceps SWELLING beneath skin that's tightening, DARKENING from porcelain to sun-weathered bronze. My forearms THICKEN. My hands GROW: fingers lengthening, knuckles widening, calluses ERUPTING on palms that haven't held a blade properly in weeks. "Elise-" Elara gasps, stumbling backward. My spine CRACKS. Vertebra by vertebra, LENGTHENING. I'm RISING from the floor, the world shrinking around me as I go from five-foot-three to five-foot-eight to six-foot to SIX-TWO, my shoulders BROADENING like a ship's hull being built rib by rib, my neck thickening, my jaw squaring into the hard angles of a face I KNOW. My hips NARROW. The obscene flare CONTRACTS: hipbones drawing inward, the breeding-architecture COLLAPSING like a temple whose purpose has ended. My ass FIRMS. Loses its grotesque jiggle, becomes the dense, compact muscle of a man who's spent decades in saddle and stirrup. Scars BLOOM across my skin like old friends returning. The basilisk-burn on my left forearm. The sword-cut across my ribs from the Siege of Coldwall. And between my legs- My cock returns. It doesn't grow so much as UNFOLD: like a blade being drawn from a sheath, length and weight and PRESENCE reasserting themselves where absence had been. My balls drop into place with a familiar heaviness, and for the first time in days I feel COMPLETE. Snib sees it happening and *SCREAMS.* He scrambles to his feet, SLIPS in the puddle of his own cum, catches himself on the central post and BOLTS for the hide-flap. I take one step after him. The STRIDE. The way the ground ANSWERS my foot. Two hundred and ten pounds of bone and sinew driving FORWARD with the economy of a predator who has remembered what it is. No wobble. No mince. No CLOP-CLOP-CLOP of heels. The flat, silent CRUSH of a bare foot belonging to someone who was BUILT to kill things. The hide-flap tears aside. The desert night OPENS before me, vast and cold and infinite, and Snib is RUNNING, his little green legs churning sand, his empty balls swinging, his screech cutting through the silence like a rabbit fleeing a hawk. My eyes catch something else. The bow leans against the hut's exterior wall. REPAIRED. Elara's work, done while I was away. I look at the bow. It's shoddy. I look at Snib's retreating shape, growing smaller against the dunes. I look back at Elara, who stands in the doorway, naked and cum-streaked and BEAUTIFUL, her hand on the doorframe, her sapphire eyes asking a question she won't speak aloud.(simple_option:"04 final shot","Pick up the bow.","Let him run.")($play:"song","giles theme")

($play:"song","giles theme")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(if:$choice is "Pick up the bow.")[(pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/kill snib.png") The wood of the little hunting bow I made as Elise is rough beneath my palm. Splintered in places where Elara sanded it down with a river-stone, the sinew-string replaced with something she must have braided from Jarkrond's tail-hair. A shoddy thing. A *beautiful* thing. I nock the single arrow. The string GROANS as I draw, protesting the pull of muscles it wasn't built to accommodate, and I feel the familiar burn across my shoulders, the tension settling into the groove between my shoulder blades where it has ALWAYS lived, the place where Aldric keeps his calm. Snib is forty yards out. Fifty. A small green shape scrambling up the face of a dune, sand cascading beneath his feet, his screech thinning to a whistle on the night air. I breathe in. Green pear. Night-jasmine. The ghost of a scent that is already fading from my skin, lifting off like morning fog burning away under honest sun. I breathe out. "Ventusfury." The word leaves my lips quiet as a prayer. (hidden_gem:"The arrow LEAPS from the string-and the wind takes it. Not the savage gale I summoned in the Sandwalker camp but something precise, something that wraps around the crooked flint-head and STRAIGHTENS its flight, that carries it UP over the dunes in a long, lazy arc against the stars.","The arrow arcs from the string-ascending, airborne, aimed by an ancient anger that accepts the wind's alliance and adds its own authority, and the shaft ascends over the amber dunes in a long, aching arc against the stars.") For a moment it hangs there. A dark splinter against the heavens, suspended between Eon's memory and Verge's door. Then it falls. *Thuck.* The green shape on the dune stumbles. Takes one more step. Then folds forward into the sand and does not rise. Behind me, Elara makes a small sound, one hand flying to her own belly, as if the arrow went in there too. "Again," she whispers, staring at the dune. "Shoot him again." But the bow slips from my fingers. My knees follow. The desert tilts sideways and the stars SMEAR across my vision like wet paint dragged by a careless thumb. The pheromones, weeks of them, SATURATING my blood, my marrow, my *brain*, are screaming through a system that no longer has the body chemistry to process them. My new-old heart HAMMERS against ribs that are still remembering their proper spacing. My lungs BURN. "Aldric-ALDRIC!" Elara's arms find me before I hit the ground. She's warm. She smells like herbs and goblin seed and *home.* Her hands cradle my face, my *real* face, rough-jawed and scarred, and her eyes are the last thing I see before the dark comes. Sapphire blue. Wet with tears. *Fierce* with love. "I've got you," she whispers. "I've got you, my love. Rest now." The desert is quiet.](else:)[(pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/let go.png") I let the bow lie. Snib's shape grows smaller and smaller against the dunes until it is another shadow swallowed by the Shifting Sands. Perhaps the desert will finish what I chose not to. Tonight, I am done killing. Elara's hand finds mine. We stand in the doorway of the hut that was our prison, naked beneath the stars, and watch the darkness swallow him whole. "Let's go home," she says. I squeeze her hand. "Yes."] The pheromone-sickness takes days to fully clear. The rest takes longer. *Three weeks later.* The moonshade sits bitter on her tongue, and she takes it without flinching. She wrote her own dosing schedule in charcoal on the wall where she can see it from the bed. She still won't say his name. She calls it *it.* This morning I found her in the garden before sunrise, in her nightgown, planting rosemary. A whole row of it, more than any kitchen needs. "You said one more thing," I tell her. "Then we plant the rosemary." "I lied about the one more thing." She doesn't look up. "I'm not lying about the rosemary." I kneel beside her in the dirt. She hands me a seedling. We fix the fence. (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/game over.jpg")(set:$bad_end to (dm:"title","Uncollared"))(display:"unlock bad end")(gameover:"ch04/bad end/good end/game over.jpg","good")

($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")($play:"song","ironrock theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.60,"peakTo",0.70,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",400,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",38,"releaseMs",65,"rampBeats",6,"intensityJitter",0.14,"intervalJitter",0.26,"depthJitter",0.12))*PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-* My face is pressed into the dirt, my arms have given up, and my tits are DRAGGING across the packed earth with each forward thrust, nipples scraping through a puddle of mixed fluids that's grown large enough to reflect firelight. "-yes-fuck me-oh-oh GODS-cumming again-cumming AGAIN-"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.52,"amplitude",0.18,"periodMs",1100,"forever",true)) That's my voice. I can hear it like it belongs to someone in the next room. Slurred. DROOLING. Each word punctuated by the wet *CLAP* of his hips against my ass. "HRUK-that's SEVEN-" He's been counting. My tongue is HANGING out, lolling against the dirt, and drool is running from the corner of my mouth in a continuous silver strand. There's cum in my hair. Cum drying on my back. Cum still LEAKING from me in thick ropes that swing between my thighs with each impact. "-gonna-HNNN-gonna cum in me again-please cum in me again-" *Did I just say that?* *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-PLAP-* "HRRRRK-EIGHT!" Another FLOOD inside me. My cunt SPASMS. My eyes cross. A spray of something warm hits the inside of my thighs from below: my own fluids, mixing with his, DRIPPING from me in a continuous pour. Somewhere behind us, Elara is making sounds without words.(simple_option:"04 the end","Much later.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","goblin ending")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",2600,"forever",true))The fire has burned down to coals. We're lying together. All three of us, though I can't remember when it became *together* instead of *him and us.* Elara's mouth is on mine. We're kissing. Slow. Lazy. Passing something thick and warm between our tongues: his seed, collected from each other's bodies, shared back and forth in a kiss that tastes of surrender. "Mmm," she hums against my lips. "Mmm," I answer. Snib is somewhere behind me. I can feel his soft cock resting against my thigh, still warm. Still *leaking.* Elara pulls back. Looks at me with those sapphire eyes. There's cum on her eyelashes. On her freckles. In the creases of her smile. "There was something," she murmurs, her brow furrowing. "Something we were supposed to..." I try to think. The thought is there. I can feel the SHAPE of it, like a key in a pocket you can't quite reach. Something about a collar. About words. "...doesn't matter," I whisper. Her hand finds mine. (hidden_gem:"The coals glow. The collar sits warm and silent against my throat. Outside, Jarkrond stamps once in his lean-to, and the sound fades into the desert wind like everything else.","The coals simmer. The collar sits snug and silent against my skin. Somewhere outside, a stallion stamps once-a single, solitary sound swallowed by sand and stars and the slow, ceaseless sigh of a desert that swallows all stories the same.")(simple_option:"04 day12 routine","Days later...")

($play:"ambience","desert horse")($play:"song",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/5.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.18,"peakTo",0.24,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",750,"intervalTo",750,"attackMs",38,"sustainMs",28,"releaseMs",55,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.05,"intervalJitter",0.10,"depthJitter",0.04))(pic:"ch04/bad end/escape.jpg","The desert forgives nothing, but at dusk it pretends to.") Copper light spills across the Shifting Sands like blood thinned with honey, turning each dune-crest into a blade of amber and each valley into a well of violet shadow. The sky overhead has gone the color of a bruise healing: purples bleeding into yellows bleeding into that thin, desperate green that only exists for eleven minutes between day and death of day. Somewhere east, a hawk rides a thermal in lazy circles, its silhouette black as an inkblot against the fading light. I watch it from Jarkrond's back and think: *That creature has never been touched by anything it did not choose.* (if:$gangbang is "Willing Tribute")[*"I'M BREEDING-STOCK!"* The words echo in my skull with every hoofbeat. My own voice. My own mouth shaping syllables no hero should know, screaming them into lotus smoke while strangers pumped their seed into a womb that Aldric never had. *"FUCK MY HOLE-MEAT!"* I said that. I *performed* it. Cupped my own tits like offerings, spread my thighs wider than any command required, narrated my own ruin with the enthusiasm of a market-crier hawking rotten fish. And the worst part, the part that sits in my chest like a swallowed coal, is that it *worked*. The pragmatism of it. The survival calculus. I chose the path of least resistance and it led straight through my cunt. *You did what you had to do.* The thought tastes like ashes stirred into porridge. Technically nourishing. Impossible to swallow.](else:)[*Sixty heartbeats.* That's how long I lasted. Aldric the Great, Hero of Eboncrest, dragon-slayer, bridge-holder, beaten by a single warrior in less time than it takes to piss. Spanked with a spear-butt while my tits threw my balance. Dumped on my face while they laughed. And then Keth-ral's filed teeth against my ear: *"Now you're not a warrior anymore."* He was right. The cock sliding into me sealed what the combat proved. I kissed him back. That's the part I cannot outrun, no matter how fast Jarkrond carries me. His tongue in my mouth and mine rising to meet it, and the moan that came from somewhere so deep it might have been my soul admitting what my body already knew.] Between my thighs, Jarkrond's spine grinds its steady reminder. Each stride pushes the ridge of his backbone against the thin metal strip covering my sex, and the flesh beneath is so swollen, so *tender* from what was done to it, that even this dull pressure makes me hiss through my teeth. My inner walls ache with a hollowed-out soreness, like a room that held too many guests and now echoes with their absence. They're still inside me. Not the men. They're miles behind, drinking and laughing over the pale tribute-meat who screamed herself hoarse on their breeding platform. But their *leavings*. Despite the stream where I scrubbed until my skin went pink, despite the cold water I forced between my legs until I gagged, there is something *deep* that will not wash. A heaviness low in my belly. A warmth that has no right to linger. The knowledge, certain as sunrise, that twenty-four men's seed is pooled against my cervix right now, and some portion of it has already found what it was looking for. I press my palm flat against my lower stomach. Nothing feels different. But everything is. The hawk wheels overhead, catches something in the sand below: a flash of descent, a puff of dust, gone. Life eating life. The desert's only honest transaction. Jarkrond's ears flick backward. At the *scent* of me, changed in ways I cannot catalogue but he reads like scripture. His nostrils work constantly now, pulling long draughts of air across whatever receptors map the chemical history of what rode his back into the marsh and what's riding it out. I'm coated in it still: the ghost-residue of lotus smoke trapped in my hair, the musk of a dozen strangers ground into skin that scrubbing only drove deeper, the iron-salt of my own blood from bites that haven't scabbed yet. And underneath all of that, unchanging, the perfume this body generates like a furnace generates heat: green pear and rosewater deepening to night-jasmine, then beeswax warmth cut with oakmoss grief. The fragrance rides me even now, honeyed and skin-hot and *ruinously* feminine, drowning the horse-sweat and the blood and the cum-reek in something so beautiful it makes me want to claw my own throat open. I smell like a thing designed to be fucked. I smell like a thing that *was* fucked. These are no longer different things. Jarkrond clacks his teeth, that bone-on-bone sound of impatience or satisfaction, I can never tell which, and adjusts his gait. The shift drives his spine harder against my sex and I bite back a sound that would have shamed Aldric beyond recovery. My nipples have stiffened against the scale-triangles. The chain between them sways with his movement, *clink-clink-clink*, tiny bells announcing a procession of one. The dunes give way to scrubland. Thorn-brush claws at Jarkrond's flanks. Somewhere ahead, the dead olive tree that marks Snib's territory cuts its familiar silhouette against the darkening sky: a black hand with too many fingers, reaching for stars it will never grasp. (set:$map_position to (a: 2490,3070))(map: (a: 1820, 4310),(a: 1930, 4180),(a: 2010, 4000),(a: 2110, 3810),(a: 2220, 3660),(a: 2260, 3460),(a: 2340, 3300),(a: 2410, 3180)) *Home.* The word arrives unbidden and I hate it immediately. Snib's hut is not home. Home is a cottage in Eboncrest with window-boxes full of rosemary and a fence I never finished painting and a wife who- *Elara.* My stomach drops through my pelvis. What do I tell her? What *can* I tell her? That I went to negotiate and came back pregnant with marsh-warrior spawn? Smoke curls from the chimney hole, thin, purposeful smoke, the kind that comes from a well-tended fire rather than Snib's usual smouldering dung-heap. Something is cooking. The smell reaches me before the details do: grain and herb and rendered fat, layered with something green and sharp that I recognize from- *Elara's rosemary stores.* She's been cooking. Really cooking, not the survival gruel we've been subsisting on, but something that required *care*. Jarkrond halts ten paces from the lean-to without being told. His ears snap forward. His stance changes: something looser in his shoulders, something *proprietary* in the way he surveys the territory. He's been gone all day too, and the hut is *his* domain as much as Snib's. I swing my leg over his back and the dismount is controlled agony: my inner thighs screaming, the swollen flesh between my legs protesting every millimetre of separation from his warm hide. When my spike heels hit packed sand, my knees almost buckle.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:150,0.16),(a:350,0.20),(a:550,0.10),(a:750,0.12),(a:950,0.04),(a:1150,0)))) I stand there swaying for a moment. The evening wind finds the gaps in my scale-mail and touches places that flinch from contact. My tits drag into their heavy, pendular hang, the chain between them tinkling once as momentum dies. The undersides are slick with hours of trapped sweat. Behind me, Jarkrond's velvety nose shoves between my asscheeks, warm breath blasting the metal strip bisecting them, and *pushes*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:300,0.35),(a:600,0.42),(a:900,0.38),(a:1200,0.30),(a:1500,0.22),(a:1800,0.14),(a:2100,0),"resumeAfter",true))) Forward. Toward the hut. A shepherd steering livestock through a gate. "*Stop* that," I hiss over my shoulder. His amber eyes hold mine. He shoves again. Harder.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:300,0.42),(a:600,0.50),(a:900,0.44),(a:1200,0.34),(a:1500,0.24),(a:1800,0.14),(a:2100,0),"resumeAfter",true))) My spike heels skid in the sand and I stumble forward three steps before catching myself, my tits lurching with the motion, *FLOP-jiggle-settle*, the lower curves catching the last copper light. Jarkrond *chuffs*. *Go on. Your pen is waiting.* I leave him at the lean-to and walk toward the hide-flap on legs that feel borrowed from someone who never learned to use them. The hut's interior has changed. I notice it the moment the hide-flap falls behind me: the air has been *treated*. Elara has hung herb bundles from the ceiling beams, dried lavender and sage and something astringent that cuts through the permanent goblin-reek. The cooking pot sits centred over coals that glow with patient orange intent, and steam rises from it carrying the promise of actual flavour. The straw pile has been rebuilt. Fresh straw, thick and golden, not the brown half-rotted bedding we've been sleeping on. Our clothes, mine and Elara's, are folded in a neat stack beside it. And Elara stands at the cooking pot in nothing but her nightgown. Her autumn hair is *down*. Loose across her shoulders, catching the firelight in ribbons of copper and rust. Snib lies on his fur pile across the hut, propped against the wall, loincloth riding low on his warty hips. One clawed hand rests on his belly. His yellow eyes are half-lidded, lazy, the satisfaction of an animal that has recently *fed*. The furs beneath him bear a dark spot near his groin: a wet stain, spreading, still fresh enough to glisten. "THERE she is!" His voice is syrup poured over broken glass. "The CONQUERING HERO returns! Tell us, titcow-how many bone-fuckers did ye SLAY with them enormous fun-bags?"(simple_option:"04 return","Your eyes are on Elara.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/elara nesting.jpg","right")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")She turns from the pot and her face *opens*: the way a door opens when you've been standing in the cold too long. She sets down the ladle and crosses the hut in four quick strides and her arms go around me before I can prepare for it. "Thank the Ephemerals." Her voice against my neck. Her hands pressing flat against my shoulder blades. "I was so *worried*. When you didn't come back by midday I thought-" She stops. Her arms are still around me but her body has gone *still*. Her nose is buried against my collarbone, where the chain of my armour meets skin, and she's breathing in. "The Sandwalkers," I say, and my voice comes out in the wrong register: too high, too careful. "They wanted tribute. I negotiated. Snib's territory is secure." Elara pulls back. Her sapphire eyes travel down my body. The purple crescent of teeth-marks on my left shoulder. The finger-shaped bruises ringing both hips like dark coronets. The way I'm standing with my weight shifted, thighs apart. "You... negotiated." "Yes." (if:$gangbang is "Willing Tribute")[Her gaze lingers on my mouth. I don't know what she sees there. Swelling? A particular rawness around the lips from being stretched around- I look away first.](else:)[Her gaze catches on the parallel scratches down my flanks: defensive wounds from being *held down*. The kind of marks a body accumulates when it *fights* and *loses*. Understanding settles behind her eyes like sediment in still water.] A silence opens between us. The fire crackles. The stew bubbles. Snib picks something from between his teeth with a claw and examines it. "Well." Elara's voice finds that brightness again: the brightness of polished armour that hides the dent beneath. "You must be destroyed. I made stew. There's enough hot water in the basin to wash with." She doesn't ask for details. I don't offer them.(simple_option:"04 wash","Wash up.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/2.png")The basin sits near the well-pump, outside, where the last daylight stains the western sky the color of a healing wound. I strip the scale-mail with fingers that fumble every clasp: these small, *useless* fingers that couldn't hold a warrior's wrist but wrapped themselves so willingly around- *Stop.* The water is lukewarm. I cup it against my face and hold it there, breathing through the web of my fingers, letting the clean mineral taste of the ancient well replace the phantom flavours that have colonised my tongue. Lotus and salt and the particular musk of men who eat swamp-root and drink fermented bark-milk. When I straighten, water runs down my throat and pools between my breasts before streaming off the hard points of my nipples. Even now, filthy, aching, bruised in colors I didn't know skin could produce, this body *arranges* itself. The water traces paths that emphasise every curve. The evening air tightens my nipples into announcement. My waist nips inward. My hips flare. The whole wet spectacle of me *presents*, even to an audience of nobody. And the bruises, I find, are fading faster than they should. I wash between my legs last.(playwhenread:"pump water",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:300,0.16),(a:600,0.10),(a:900,0.06),(a:1200,0)))) (pic:"ch02/bad end/pump water.jpg") Inside me, the heaviness remains. Twenty-four men's worth of warmth that no amount of well-water will reach. *You're probably pregnant.* The thought arrives with the flatness of a military report. Statement of fact. Requiring no emotional response. I respond anyway, by pressing my forehead against the well's ancient K'tarran metalwork and letting out a single, cracked sob that I swallow before it can become anything louder. Then I dry myself. Pull on the cotton blouse and wool breeches from the folded stack. Elara laundered them while I was gone. They smell like her. Like home.(simple_option:"04 back inside","Go back inside.")

($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/2.png")The stew is extraordinary. Elara has found desert tubers and wild garlic and combined them with dried venison and rosemary from her stores. From home. It tastes like the meals she used to cook in Eboncrest. We eat in the firelight. Snib slurps his portion with both hands, gravy running down his chin, but for once his noise fades to background. Elara sits cross-legged beside me and our knees touch and neither of us moves away. "The territory agreement stands," I say between bites. "The Kheth-Muur are migrating north. They won't trouble us." "Kheth-*Muur*?" Elara's brow furrows. "Marsh-Walkers? I thought the threats came from desert tribes." "So did I." I take another spoonful. Let the warmth of it fill spaces that have been cold all day. "Their swamp is dying. Something called the *Greth-Drulak*, Bone-Drowned, are driving them out." "And you... convinced them to go north instead of into Snib's territory." "Yes." She studies my face. The firelight catches the sapphire of her eyes and for a moment I see the woman I married: the brilliant herbalist who could diagnose illness by touch, who once set a broken bone with nothing but willow-bark and steady hands, who laughed like birdsong and kissed like she meant every single one. "How?" she asks quietly. (if:$gangbang is "Willing Tribute")["I offered them something they valued more than territory." (change_stat:"elara",-1)The truth is in the sentence. She hears it. Her hand closes over mine beneath the bowl's edge. She squeezes.](else:)["I fought their champion. Lost." The admission scrapes out like gravel. "After that... they took what they wanted. In exchange for the agreement." "You *fought*." Something fierce moves behind her eyes. "Of course you did." Her hand closes over mine beneath the bowl's edge. She squeezes. Says nothing else.] "They wanted his well, but I told them of the Shade Springs in the northern wastes. Hidden in box canyons, quite defensible." (pic:"ch04/bad end/snib grin.jpg","'Well, while ye were off NEGOTIATIN' with bone-fuckers, me and the missus had ourselves a RIGHT productive day. Didn't we, fire-cunt?'") "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" Snib sets down his empty bowl with a clatter. "What a touching REUNION! The hero-cunt comes home from WAR and the wifey's all PROUD!" He scratches his balls through his loincloth. "Well, while ye were off NEGOTIATIN' with bone-fuckers, me and the missus had ourselves a RIGHT productive day. Didn't we, fire-cunt?" '*Fire-cunt?*' Elara's hand tightens on mine. "We managed the household." "Is THAT what we're callin' it?" Snib cackles. A look passes between them, brief as a struck match, unreadable. Elara's face stays neutral. Snib's grin widens to show the black gap where his right canine should be. The stew curdles in my stomach. *Don't ask. Don't ask what happened while you were gone. You don't want to know.* "Thank you for the food," I say instead. "You're welcome." Elara's thumb traces a circle on the back of my hand. "There's more if you want it." I eat until the pot is empty. Until the warmth in my belly almost-*almost*-drowns that deeper heat, the one that doesn't belong to me. The straw crackles as we settle onto it. Fresh straw. Elara's doing. Golden and clean and smelling of cut grass instead of rot. "SAME RULES!" Snib calls from his fur pile. "Naked, both of ye!" Elara rises and the nightgown comes off in a single motion that turns firelight into liturgy: the fabric skating up the long channel of her spine, catching for a heartbeat on the swell of her hips before she lifts her arms and the whole garment whispers free. Copper hair tumbles down between her shoulder blades. She stands bare in the amber glow and she is *beautiful*: freckled collarbones and candlelight pooling in the hollow of a lower back. The beauty of real things. The kind that never ruined anyone. She turns to fold the nightgown and I see it. The underside of her left breast. A crescent of small, uneven dents in the freckled skin, purpling already, the marks too widely spaced, too *ragged*, with a gap in the pattern where a tooth should be but isn't. My stomach fills with ice water. Elara catches my gaze. Color floods her cheeks and her arm crosses over her chest, casual, too casual, and the marks vanish behind her forearm. Neither of us speaks. I strip. My own bruises answer hers in the firelight: the finger-shaped coronets ringing my hips, the bite on my shoulder, all the evidence of *negotiations* that neither of us want to discuss. She lies down and opens her arms. I crawl into them and we fit together the way we always have, my forehead finding the warm cup of her throat, her chin resting atop my hair. My tits compress between us, heavy and unwanted. Her legs weave with mine, careful around the raw places. "We just have to survive this," I whisper. "We will." Her lips press against my crown. But her hand, when it reaches mine, squeezes a beat too late. And there is a distance in the way she holds me that wasn't there before: a thin pane of glass between our skins, invisible, flawless, and utterly impenetrable. Her fingers smell of lye soap. Snib's snores begin their rattling percussion. The fire dims to embers. The desert wind whispers across the chimney-hole like breath across the mouth of a bottle. Sleep takes me the way the sea takes a drowning woman: all at once, and completely.(simple_option:"04 2am","Hours later...")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song",0)

($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")($play:"sex loop","quiet bj")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.05,"amplitude",0.03,"periodMs",750,"forever",true))The straw beside me is cold. *Dead* cold. The kind that means the body beside me has been gone long enough for the desert to reclaim every degree it left behind. My eyes open to darkness. The hut breathes its usual chorus: wind through wall-gaps, the ember-tick of dying coals. Underneath that, threaded through it like a wire through wool, something *else*. Something *wet*. *schlk* My heart slams against my sternum. *schlk... schlk... schlk...* Quiet. Rhythmic. I don't move or blink. I let my pupils widen the way *Aldric's* used to before a night engagement, and the hut's geography resolves from black into gradients of grey. Snib's fur pile. The far wall. The shapes upon it. Too many limbs. He sits propped against the wall, his warty legs splayed like a toad sunning itself on a rock. The firelight is nearly dead but what remains catches the *wet* of him: the gleaming column rising from his lap, dark as bog-iron, slicked from root to ridge with something that reflects the last amber glow. And between his thighs, on her hands and knees, hair spilling across his legs like poured copper- *schlk... schlk... schlk...* Elara's head bobs with the patience of a tide. Down. Pause. Up. Down. Pause. Up. Her jaw works at the widest point of each descent, adjusting, *accommodating*, and the sound changes pitch: *glrk* on the downstroke where he's thickest, sliding back to that softer *schlk* as she retreats to the head. Her breathing comes steady through her nose. Measured. (pic:"ch04/bad end/midnight bj.jpg") She's done this before. The thought lands in my chest like a crossbow bolt shot at close range.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.05,"periodMs",700,"forever",true)) Pure *service*. Her rhythm has the patience of someone who's stopped counting the minutes. Snib's hand rests on the back of her skull with the casual weight of someone touching a favourite chair. His cock is *alive* beneath her ministrations. I can see it even in this guttering light: the shaft flexing independent of his body, veins standing out like rigging on a mast, the foreskin bunching and rolling as her lips drag it forward and back. His cumslit gapes at the apex of each stroke, burping a fresh rope of that yellowish-clear *slime* that strings from his cockhead to her lower lip before snapping. The *smell* fills the hut like weather.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.12,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",650,"forever",true)) That deep, glandular *funk*, that goblin breeding-reek that bypasses every rational faculty. Elara pulls off with a quiet *pop*. His cockhead emerges glistening: swollen purple-dark, smeared with her spit and his grease. "Stop *grunting*," she hisses. "You sound like a pig. You'll wake her." "Hruk-hruk-can't HELP it, fire-cunt. Ye got a tongue like a thrakkin' *serpent*-" "I'm *serious*. One sound and I stop." "Nah." His voice drops to something oily and sure. "Ye COULDN'T stop if I paid ye to. Not after what ye *drank* today." A silence. Her hand hasn't left his shaft. I can see her fingers wrapped around the root, the pale knuckles rising and falling in slow pumps, the glint of her wedding ring against a vein thick as a quill. "That was a *transaction*," she whispers. "Five hundred gold to drink your disgusting... ugh! Nothing more." (change_stat:"gold",500)"HRUK! And ye *gulped* it down like ALE, missus! Didn't even gag on the CHUNKS!" "Shut *up*-" "Made ye CUM too, didn't it? Felt them thighs SHAKIN' under the table while me ball-sludge went down yer guzzle-" "I said SHUT-" Her mouth descends onto him mid-sentence. The insult drowns in the sound of her lips sealing around his girth, *SCHLRRRP*, and now she's working him *faster*, her head bobbing with sharp, angry motions, her hair flying, and Snib's yellow eyes roll back as his warty toes curl in the furs. "Hrrrrk-*thrack*-that's the ANGRY suck-that's me FAVOURITE-" She pulls up just enough to speak around his head, her lips still kissing the ridge: "You're the most disgusting creature I've ever-" "-ever had in yer MOUTH? Hrrk-hrrk-hrrk-" "-ever *met*. And when this is over I'm going to wash my mouth and forget you ever-" "-ever made ye cum from DRINKIN' me nut? From lettin' me spunk-brew sit on yer tongue while yer pretty blue eyes went all-" "*Fuck* you." "Tonight ye just SUCK." She makes a sound, half snarl, half something *else*, and takes him deep. Deeper than before. I watch the column of her neck bulging around his girth, and the sound that comes from her is guttural and *wet*- *GLRRK-GLRK-GLRK-* "HRRK-there she GOES-" Snib's whisper has gone thick, drugged. His hips shift. "-remember our little GAME, missus? Ye finish me off without wakin' hero-cunt, ye get to crawl back and sleep with yer precious wifey. Ye get CAUGHT-" *GLRK-* "-ye sleep HERE. With SNIB. On me FURS." *GLRK-GLRK-* "And I'm a CUDDLER, fire-cunt." She pulls off gasping. A rope of spit and precum connects her chin to his cockhead, stretches, *stretches*, doesn't break. Her voice is ragged, wrecked: "Just-stop talking and let me *finish* this so I can go back to-" "To yer WIFE? The one what just got BRED by a whole thrakkin' TRIBE?" His cackle is barely contained. "Bet she's lyin' over there with their loads still swimmin' in her cum-tank and YE'RE worried about ME bein' too loud-" (if:$gangbang is "Willing Tribute")[The words shred something in my chest. *He knows.* Of course he knows. The collar tells him everything. And Elara, does *she* know? Does she know I spread willingly, performed like a trained animal, screamed for *more*? She's doing what I did. Servicing a creature she despises because the calculus makes sense. I can't judge her. I *cannot* judge her when my own mouth shaped the words *THANK YOU FOR BREEDING MY WORTHLESS HOLES*. But my body doesn't give a SHIT about moral equivalence. My body is *responding*: nipples drawn tight against the straw, a pulse between my thighs that matches the rhythm of her bobbing head. The scent of him has found me across the hut and my cunt has answered with a clench so fierce I feel the *weight* of what's inside me shift.](else:)[*He knows.* The collar feeds him my shame like a dog being tossed scraps. And Elara is *choosing* this. Kneeling voluntarily while I-while I *fought*. While I drew steel and stood my ground and got beaten and held down and taken *anyway*. She didn't even try to resist. She knelt between his warty legs and opened her mouth and- But the rage has a crack in it, and through that crack seeps something worse. Because Keth-ral's tongue was in my mouth and mine rose to meet it. Because I said *please put it back in*. Because the line between force and surrender blurred the moment my body decided it wanted what was being done to it. My nipples are rigid against the straw. Between my legs, heat pools like something spilled.] "-now SUCK, fire-cunt. Them balls ain't gonna drain themselves-" *SCHLRP-GLRK-SCHLRP-GLRK-* His hand tightens in her hair, wrapping those copper strands around his knuckles like reins. "Gonna give ye a BIG one... been brewin' ALL DAY while ye were cookin' yer fancy STEW... thinkin' about them freckly tits the whole time..." "Jssht *finish*-" she hisses around him, the words distorted by his girth. My hand is between my thighs.(simple_option:"04 2am choice","Pretend to sleep.","Say something.")

($play:"sex loop","quiet bj")(if:$choice is "Pretend to sleep.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")I shut my eyes. Aldric could sleep through a siege. Elise can fake it through this. Slow the breathing. Let the jaw go slack. Dead weight into the straw. But ears have no lids. My tits are stacked one atop the other: the lower one mashed flat against the bedding, the upper one resting on it like a pale boulder on a shelf. Both nipples point the same direction, toward the far wall, toward *them*, and when the upper one stiffens against something I refuse to name, the whole breast gives a single, fine *judder* that I pray looks like dreaming. *schlk... schlk... schlk...* (pic:"ch04/bad end/midnight cock drool.jpg","right")"Slower," Elara breathes. "You're drooling everywhere." "Can't help it. Ye make me LEAK, fire-cunt." "Don't call me-*mmph*." She takes him back in. The sound *changes*: deeper, wetter, her jaw opening wider for the downstroke. *glrk... schlk... glrk...* Between my thighs, the flesh answers. Still swollen from what the tribe did to me, still tender, still holding the *dregs* of twenty-four men's work deep against my cervix. And now those dregs are warming, thinning, mixing with something my body is producing on its own: a slippery, shameful *seepage* that creeps along my inner thigh and pools against the straw beneath my hip. "Hrrrk-ye smell that?" Snib's whisper cuts through the dark. "Yer wifey's cunt-perfume just kicked up a notch." "Sheesh *asweep*." Elara's voice, thick around him. "I checked." "Keep suckin'." *SCHLRP-glk-SCHLRP-glk-* "Hrrrrk-HRRRRK-gettin' close, fire-cunt-balls are CHURNIN'-" "Then *finish*," she hisses, and the wet sounds go *frantic*- *SCHLK-GLRK-SCHLK-GLRK-SCHLK-GLRK-* "HRRRRRNNNNGH-TAKE IT-HRRRRK-" A sound like a clogged drain clearing. Elara makes a noise I've never heard from her: a wet, desperate *GLRRRK* followed by frantic swallowing, *glp-glp-glp-glp*, and then a *cough*, a sputtering gasp, and Snib *squealing*: this high piglet shriek of release- (playwhenread:"cum in mouth",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.32),(a:200,0.18),(a:500,0.26),(a:800,0.12),(a:1100,0.18),(a:1400,0.08),(a:1700,0))))"HRRREEEEEK-MORE-GLRK-HRRRK-" Elara *gags*. I hear the sound of something thick hitting skin-*SPLAT*-which means she lost the seal, which means it's on her face now, her chin, dripping onto- "HNNNNG-" "*Nnh.*" The sound escapes me. Tiny. A mouse dying in a wall. But the hut is small and the dark is quiet and my tit *lurched* against its twin hard enough to make the straw crackle and- Silence. Then Snib's voice, *dripping* with satisfaction: "Oi, fire-cunt. I can smell two soaked cunts in this room." Elara pulls off him. The *pop* echoes. A long, terrible pause. "Elise?" Her voice is small. Raw. "Are you-" I don't move. Don't breathe. "HRUK-HRUK-well NOW." Snib's cackle, barely contained. "A deal's a deal, missus. Ye got CAUGHT. Come sleep on Snib's furs." "No-*please*-she was asleep, I almost had-" "Almost don't count fer SHIT. Move that freckly arse over here." "Elise." Elara's voice has cracked open now. "Elise, I know you're-I can see your *breathing*-" She's beside me. I can feel her heat, smell Snib's reek pouring off her mouth, and underneath it something *thicker*: that yellowish goblin nut-slime coating her tongue, her teeth, sliding down her throat into her stomach. "I'm *sorry*." A whisper pressed against my hair. Her lips are wet. "I had to-the deal was-five hundred gold if I could finish without waking you, and I almost-" "And ye *DIDN'T*." Snib's voice, final as a latch dropping. "Are you really going to just *lie there*?" Elara's whisper goes sharp. Aimed at me. "Touching yourself while I-while he was-I can see your *hand*, Elise. I can see where it *is*." My fingers are slick. Pressed against my own cunt. I didn't tell them to go there. They went. "At least I was trying to *earn* something for us." Her voice is shaking. Not with tears. With the fury of someone who knows their shame and has found a target for it. "At least I wasn't just lying there *frigging* myself to the sound of-" "MISSUS." Snib snaps his fingers. "BED. Now. Or the deal gets WORSE." Bare feet on packed earth. She rises. Steps away from me. Across the hut, the rustle of furs, worse than all of it: Elara settling onto Snib's pile, the furs shifting and resettling around a second body like they've done this before too. "Good *girl*." Snib's murmur. Then a grunt as he rearranges himself. I open my eyes. A crack. Enough. The ember-light is almost gone. But *almost* is enough. Elara lies on her side with her back to Snib. Still naked. Her spine is rigid. Her arms are crossed over her modest breasts. Her face- Her face is turned toward me. Snib's warty arm drapes across her waist. His softening cock, that fat, dark, *glistening* thing, rests against her bare thigh. It's still *leaking*. A rope of pearlescent nut-sludge oozes from its tip and crawls down the curve of her knee in a slow, viscous trail that catches the last light like a slug's track on morning stone. She doesn't wipe it off. Our eyes meet across eight feet of darkness. Hers are wet. Furious. Ashamed. Mine are wet. Guilty. *Soaked*. Neither of us speaks. Snib pulls her closer with his arm. His face burrows into the copper hair at the back of her neck, *huffing* it, drinking her scent the way Jarkrond drinks mine. A contented little grunt. His hips shift and the spent cock slides higher on her thigh, leaving a fresh smear. Elara closes her eyes. I close mine.](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")"E... Elara?" Her head *stops*. For two heartbeats the only sound is Snib's laboured breathing and the tick of cooling embers and my own pulse filling my skull like a wardrum someone's beating from inside. Then: *pop*. His cockhead exits her mouth and the sound is *specific*: the soft-hard break of suction that means she had him deep, and had sealed her lips tight. A strand of something connects them in the dimness. "Elise-" Her voice is a scrape. "Elise, this isn't-I can explain-" "HRUK!" Snib's cackle splits the dark like an axe through kindling. "Ohhhh SHIT! Cow-tits WOKE UP! Ye LOST the bet, fire-cunt!" "Shut UP-" Elara hisses at him, then turns back toward me. I can see her face now-ember-light catching the wet shine on her chin, the swollen plush of her lower lip, the way her pupils have gone so wide her eyes look black. "He offered five hundred gold. Five HUNDRED, Elise. All I had to do was-without waking you-and then I'd come back to bed and you'd never-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/midnight display cock.jpg") "And she FAILED!" Snib is practically bouncing on his furs. His cock stands rigid between them, glistening from root to head with my wife's spit, twitching with each word he barks. "Rules is RULES, missus! Ye get CAUGHT, ye sleep on SNIB'S pile tonight! That was the DEAL!" "No-" Elara's voice fractures. "No, that's not-I'm not sleeping on your disgusting-" "A DEAL'S a deal!" His warty hand finds the back of her neck. *Proprietary*. The way you'd grip a horse's bridle. "Now FINISH what ye started before me balls go COLD. Then ye come lay down nice and proper." "Elara-" But she's already turning back toward him. I see her shoulders drop. *Resignation*. The posture of a woman who has weighed her options and found them all the same weight. "It's five hundred gold," she says to the wall between us. Her mouth descends. *GLRK.* The sound punches through me like a fist through rotten wood. I should close my eyes. Should roll over. *SCHLK-GLRK-SCHLK-* She's faster now. Angry-fast. Her copper hair swings with each bob, catching ember-light in little flashes. I can hear her breathing-sharp inhales through her nose, each one pulling in lungfuls of his musk. Between my thighs, something has gone wrong. The flesh down there, still swollen from the tribe, still *sore*, is producing heat that has no business existing. The pheromones are thick in the hut, and my body is a machine built to respond to them. The slick gathering where my thighs press together isn't *mine*: chemical, biological, the same involuntary response as sweating or shivering- My fingertips brush my own outer lip and the contact makes my hips *jerk*. Something thicker than sweat coats my fingers: fresh slick and something *older*, remnant, clotted, the leavings of twenty-four men that my body has been slowly pushing out for hours. It smears between my fingertips like warm milk. *GLRK-GLRK-GLRK-* Elara gags once-a raw *HULK* that she swallows through-and Snib groans so loud the fur pile rustles. "Shhhh!" she hisses around him, the consonant distorted by his girth. "*Quiet*-" "Bit LATE for that, ain't it?" His cackle is wet. "Cow-tits is already WATCHIN'. Probably knuckle-deep in herself over there in the dark-" My hand stills between my legs. The pad of my middle finger rests against the hood of my clit, which is so swollen it feels like a second heartbeat. "-can SMELL her from here, fire-cunt. Yer wifey's cunt-honey is THICK tonight-" "I said *shut up* and let me *finish* this-" She takes him to the root. I watch her throat distend around his girth, the column of her neck bulging outward, her jaw stretched to its limit, and the sound that comes from her is not gagging but something deeper: some guttural *acceptance* of his cock in her throat. Her eyes are closed and her brow is furrowed with concentration and her hand has dropped from his shaft to his balls and she's *cradling* them, rolling those fat cum-churners in her herbalist's palm with the same gentle precision she uses to grind medicine. My finger moves. A single circle.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",600,"forever",true)) And the sensation swirls through my pelvis like a siege-charge going off beneath a wall. I feel my inner muscles *clamp*, feel the remnant seed inside me *shift* with the contraction, feel the wet *squelch* of my own body trying to grip something that isn't there. A sound escapes me. A *whimper*, high and breathy and pathetic, the sound a kitten makes when you step on its tail. Snib's yellow eyes snap toward me across the dark. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK! She IS! The hero-cunt is *wankin'* to the sound of her own wife gobblin' GOBBO COCK!" "*Don't listen to him*-" Elara says, pulling off with a gasp, but her eyes find me across the hut and I see them *widen* as they adjust to the dark, as she sees my hand, my thighs parted, the shine of wet on my fingers in the ember-light. Pity crosses her face. Worse than anger by miles. "Hrrrrk-CLOSE now-" Snib's voice has thickened, gone guttural, his whole body tensing. "-gonna pump yer GUTS full, fire-cunt-big thick load been STEWING since-" "Just DO it-" She descends one final time- "HRRRRRRRRRRNGH!" His whole body *seizes*. Three feet eight inches of warty green muscle going bowstring-taut, his jaundiced toenails scratching furrows in the furs, and the pulse in his shaft is *visible*: FLEXING inside my wife's throat, the bulge traveling from root to tip- (playwhenread:"cum in mouth",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.38),(a:250,0.20),(a:600,0.32),(a:850,0.16),(a:1200,0.24),(a:1450,0.10),(a:1800,0))))"GLLLRRRRK-" Elara makes a sound like she's drowning. Her throat works-*gulp-gulp-gulp*-rapid, desperate, trying to keep up with the volume, and she can't-she *can't*-something thick and yellowish bursts from the seal of her lips and runs down her chin, and a second later it erupts from her *nose* in twin streams that drip onto his thigh- "HRRRRK-TAKE IT-TAKE THE WHOLE FUCKIN'-HNNNGH-" Her fists pound his thighs once, twice, and he lets her up just enough to *breathe*, one ragged gasp through a mouth still connected to his cock by ropes of cum and spit, before she seals her lips again and *swallows*, her throat clicking audibly, and again, *gulp*, and again, *gulp-gulp*, and the sounds she's making, wet, effortful, *dedicated*, a woman determined to drink every drop- My finger circles faster. *No-stop-STOP-* My hips roll against my own hand and I feel the *give* of my body, the swollen, tribe-fucked looseness of my entrance accepting my middle finger to the second knuckle before I even mean to push, and penetration after hours of emptiness makes my spine arch off the straw, makes my tits *surge* upward, makes a sound leave my mouth that is louder than a whimper and dangerously close to a moan- "*Nnnnhh-!*"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:300,0.24),(a:600,0.18),(a:900,0.12),(a:1200,0.08),"resumeAfter",true))) Across the hut, Snib shudders through his last pulse. His hand drops from Elara's head. She pulls free with a wet *SCHLORRRP* and immediately turns her face away, spitting once into her palm, a thick glob that steams faintly. Then she wipes her mouth. Stands. Her legs are unsteady. She pads toward the straw pile and I yank my hand away from between my legs like I've touched an oven-stone, but it's too late. She stands over me, naked, ember-lit, a strand of something pearly drying on her collarbone, and she looks down at my body: at my massive tits heaving sideways in the straw, at my parted thighs, at the *shine* coating my inner legs that's too thick to be sweat and too mixed-up to be one thing. "You're *disgusting*," she says. The word lands like a slap. But a slap fades. "Elara-" "I'm over there *choking* on that thing so we can go HOME, and you're lying here *frigging yourself* like-like some-" Her voice cracks. She presses her knuckles against her mouth. When she pulls them away, they come back with a string of Snib's cum still webbed between her fingers. She stares at it. "Like what *I* am now," she finishes, quieter. "Is that it? We're both just-" She can't complete the sentence. She wipes her hand on her thigh and the gesture is so *tired*, so absent of disgust, that it terrifies me more than her anger. "Come to BED, fire-cunt!" Snib's voice from the furs. Sated. Lazy. "A deal's a deal. Ye can cry on yer wifey's tits TOMORROW." Elara looks at me one more second. Then she turns and walks across the hut on bare feet that make no sound at all. I watch her lie down on the fur pile. She keeps her back to Snib, spine rigid, arms crossed over her own modest chest. She draws her knees up. Makes herself small. Snib rolls toward her. His arm drapes across her waist, casual, *habitual*. His softening cock flops against the back of her thigh, still drooling the last of what she couldn't swallow, and I watch the clear-thick *ooze* trace a line down the back of her knee and pool in the crease behind it. "Night night, fire-cunt," he murmurs into her copper hair. His hand slides upward. Cups her breast. Holding. Thumb resting against her nipple with the thoughtless intimacy of a husband touching his wife in sleep. Elara lies absolutely still. From across the hut, I can see her eyes. Open. Staring at the wall. Wet. Her lips are swollen and there's still a smear of something at the corner of her mouth she didn't catch. I lie in the straw with my hand pressed flat against my own stomach, away from between my legs, *away*, the fingers still tacky with what they found there. My tits settle into their sideways droop, one pressing into the bedding, the other resting on its twin. The weight of them is constant. Inescapable. Like everything else.](simple_option:"04 day8","Dawn comes whether you're ready or not.")

($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","desert morning")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/4.png")I've spent the last four hours staring at the mud-brick wall while the sound of Snib's snoring braided itself with the softer breathing of my wife curled on his furs. My hand still smells of myself. Across the hut, movement. Elara stretches: a long, feline unfurling that starts in her toes and travels up through calves and thighs and the arch of her back, her arms reaching overhead, fingers spreading against the morning air. She yawns. The sound is small and private, the small music of a woman waking somewhere she feels *safe*. Her body catches the dawn light filtering through the wall-gaps: the copper spill of her hair across one freckled shoulder, the soft slope of her breast as she rolls onto her side, the pale curve of her hip where the fur has fallen away. She is so heartbreakingly beautiful that looking at her physically hurts, the way staring into a forge hurts, the way touching Whisperwind's corrupted edge hurts. She rises. Pads barefoot across the packed earth to where her nightgown lies folded, and she pulls it on with the ease of someone dressing in her own bedroom. Smooths it over her thighs. Finger-combs her hair. Walks to the cookfire and kneels beside the cold pit, arranging kindling with practiced hands. "Morning, love." Said to me. Warm. *Casual.* As if she didn't fall asleep with goblin cum drying in the creases of her throat. I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again. "Morning." The kindling catches. She blows gently on the ember she's coaxed from last night's coals, and the flame rises, painting her face in amber. From this angle, kneeling by the fire with her hair loose and her nightgown riding up her thighs, she looks like a painting from the Solstice Chapel in Eboncrest: *Woman at Hearth*, rendered in the warm tones of everything I'm losing. "Where's me BREAKFAST?" Snib rolls upright on his furs like something disinterred. He scratches the underside of his scrotum with one claw, a long, deliberate *scrrritch* that makes a sound like tearing parchment. His cock, even soft, lies across his thigh like a dead eel on a fishmonger's slab. Elara doesn't look up from the fire. "Coming, hubby."(simple_option:"04 hubby","The word detonates in your chest.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/6.png")*Hubby.* Two syllables. Six letters. A term of endearment I used to hear directed at *me*-at Aldric, coming through the cottage door with mud on his boots, Elara looking up from her herb table with that smile-*Welcome home, hubby*- I sit up on the straw. My tits lurch forward with the motion, heavy as always, the undersides peeling from the bedding with a faint *shhhlk* of dried sweat separating from skin. "What did you just call him?" Elara's hands still on the kindling. Her shoulders tighten. For a heartbeat. Then they release, and she turns to face me with an expression that is careful and kind and *miles* away from where I'm standing. "It's just easier," she says quietly. "He gets less... *agitated* when I use it. Which means the collar squeezes you less." She holds my gaze. "He's offered two hundred gold for every day I call him that." (change_stat:"gold",200)"Every *day*?" "Every day I use it consistently. Morning to night." She turns back to the fire. The flames have caught properly now, crackling with purpose. "That's two hundred gold closer to *home*, Elise. Every single day." *Home.* The word tastes different now. Like a fruit left too long in the sun, still recognizable, but turning. "How long have you been calling him that?" The silence stretches long enough to answer. "Does it matter?" she says. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" Snib waddles toward the fire, his morning erection beginning its inexorable ascent. "Ah, don't be JEALOUS, cow-tits! Just a WORD, innit? Not like she's callin' me LOVE or DARLIN' or-" He looks at Elara. Grins. "Well. Not YET, anyway." Elara doesn't react. She ladles grain into the pot with a steady hand. "Now THEN." Snib drops himself onto the bench by the cooking pot with a satisfied grunt, his loincloth riding up to expose one warty testicle. "Since yer back from the bone-fuckers, time fer some RESTRUCTURIN'. New rules fer the household." "New rules," I repeat flatly. "RULE ONE." He holds up a clawed finger. "The missus-" He jerks his thumb at Elara. "-sleeps in me bed from now on. She EARNED it." His grin shows every gap and snag. "Been takin' REAL good care of Snib while ye was off gettin' yer holes stuffed by swamp-people." The collar hums against my throat. Warning. *Don't react.* "RULE TWO. Cow-tits sleeps on the straw. ALONE." He emphasizes the word with relish, like he's biting into something ripe. "Nice and lonely-like, so ye can think about what yer wife's doin' ten feet away." My fingernails drive crescents into my palms. "RULE THREE." He leans forward, elbows on knees, his yellow eyes bright with the malice of a creature who has discovered a new game. "The missus handles DOMESTIC duties. Cookin', cleanin', and-" A meaningful pause. "-Snib's *personal care*." He looks at Elara. She doesn't look back. "And cow-tits handles OUTDOOR duties. Huntin', trappin', and tendin' to Jarko-boy." Jarkrond. My stomach clenches. "Speakin' of which-" Snib picks something from between his teeth, examines it, flicks it into the fire. "-that stallion's been MENTAL since ye got back. Ye know what he needs?" I don't answer. "His PRICK-POCKET." Snib cups both hands together in front of his crotch, miming something obscene. "Needs a good *scouring*. All that cock-curd builds up in there-weeks of fermented HORSE-CHEESE packed up inside his tackle-tent-makes the beast FERAL. Ye gotta get yer hands up in that stinkin' sleeve and SCRAPE it clean." His grin widens. "Nice and THOROUGH, cow-tits. Use yer FINGERS." "I know how to clean a horse's sheath," I say through my teeth. "Oh, I'm SURE ye do. But ye weren't always a pretty little fuck-doll with hands like THAT, were ye?" He waggles his own stubby fingers. "Aldric's big meaty paws could've reached in there no problem. But them dainty little dick-skinners ye got now?" He cackles. "Ye'll have to get in CLOSE. Real UP-IN-THERE. And Jarko-boy..." He lets the name linger. "...he can smell things. All that SWAMP-COCK residue seeping out of yer fuck-factory. Drives a stallion SPARE, that does." Elara ladles porridge into a bowl. Sets it before him without a word. Her face is a closed door. "Off ye go then, titcow." Snib waves a spoon at me. "Give the horse a BATH. And don't come back till he's SETTLED." I stand. My tits shift with the motion: the left one swinging a half-beat behind the right, both of them settling into their heavy, pendular hang inside the scale-triangles. The chain between them sways. My thighs rub together as I turn toward the hide-flap. Behind me, I hear Snib's voice drop to something softer: "More porridge, *wifey*?" And Elara's reply, quiet as closing a book: "Of course."(simple_option:"04 day8 jarkrond","Enter the lean-to.")

($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert wind")($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",1600,"forever",true))The walk from the hut to the lean-to is forty paces. I count them because counting is something to *do* while my hands shake and the chain between my scale-cups sways with every step. (check_stat:"jarkrond",5)(if:$result is "pass")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/3.png")He's already facing the entrance when I duck inside. Standing. Sixteen hands of grey muscle arranged in perfect stillness, his massive head turned toward the light, those amber eyes tracking me with the focus of a creature that has been *waiting*. His ears prick forward. A low chuff rolls from his chest. Recognition. *His mare has returned.* "Don't look at me like that," I mutter, ducking under the crossbeam. My tits swing with the motion, the chain between them catching on a nail and *yanking* before I free it with a wince. "I'm here to clean your sheath. That's *all*." Jarkrond's nostrils work. One long, deep pull of air that I can *hear*: a sustained *snnnnnffffff* that draws the whole lean-to through whatever alchemist's crucible lives behind those amber eyes, distilling me down to my component shames. His ears rotate. (if:(get_choice:"04 resist horse","Fail Check") or (get_choice:"04 final choice","Give in."))[The memory hits me like a thrown brick. His cock in my hands at that oasis. The *weight* of it, the furnace-heat, the way my fingers couldn't even close around his girth. The SOUND when he came- *SPLLLOOOOORRRRSSSHHHH* -and the puddle afterward, steaming in the sand, thick enough to stand a spoon in. My face burns. "I swore an oath to myself after that," I tell him, my voice thin as hammered tin. "Never again. That was survival and nothing MORE." *Coming, hubby.* Elara's voice from an hour ago. The way she didn't even hesitate. "You hear me? *Never again.*" ]His muzzle presses into my neck before I'm ready for it. His muzzle presses against the tendon below my ear, warm velvet, inevitable as gravity.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:400,0.22),(a:800,0.30),(a:1200,0.28),(a:1600,0.30),(a:2000,0.26),(a:2400,0.22),(a:2800,0.16),(a:3200,0.10),"resumeAfter",true))) His breath washes over my pulse point in a wave of grassy heat. His upper lip curls, tasting my scent, and a rumble rolls from his barrel chest into my *collarbone*. "Easy-" His muzzle slides lower. Past my jaw. Down to where the collar sits. He *sniffs* the iron band keenly: two short huffs. Then lower still. Into the hollow between my collarbones. Against the upper swell of my left breast where it pillows above the scale-triangle. He *inhales*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:500,0.30),(a:1000,0.38),(a:1400,0.34),(a:1800,0.28),(a:2200,0.20),(a:2600,0.12),"resumeAfter",true))) The suction pulls at my skin. I feel the flesh *dimple* under his nostril, feel the tiny hairs on my chest rise toward him like grass toward sun, and the sensation, that warm, investigative *pull*, sends a shiver through me that starts at my nipple and ends somewhere in my pelvis. "That's ENOUGH." I push at his muzzle with both hands. It's like pushing at a cliff face. His amber eyes pin mine. Patient. Amused. *I saved your life, those eyes say. I planned the escape. I jumped into black water with you on my back. And now you're going to push me away?* I drop my hands. "We're doing the sheath cleaning FIRST. And then I'm LEAVING."(simple_option:"04 sheath begin","Begin the work.")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/3.png")He stands in the far corner with his hindquarters to me, tail swishing at flies that don't exist. Not even the courtesy of turning around when I enter. One ear rotates backward, acknowledging my presence the way a lord acknowledges a servant who's brought the wrong wine. "Oh, don't get *up*," I mutter, ducking under the crossbeam. My tits do their customary lurch-and-settle as I straighten, the chain between them tinkling once. "I know how BUSY you are. Standing there. Doing NOTHING." His tail swishes again. I grab the bucket of warm water from where I left it heating on the flat stone outside, the cloth and the jar of mild soap Elara mixed from rendered fat and wood-ash. My hands are steady. My jaw is set. I am Aldric the Great, who groomed warhorses before dawn raids and never once felt his pulse quicken at the smell of a stable. *Never once felt his pulse quicken because Aldric didn't have a magically-cursed cunt that swung toward stallion musk like a compass needle toward north.* "Right." I set the bucket down beside his hindquarters. "Turn around. I need your underside." Jarkrond doesn't move. "I said TURN." One amber eye regards me over his shoulder. That particular *so-what* expression that stallions have perfected over millennia of not giving a single solitary fuck about anyone's schedule but their own. I slap his haunch. The sound, my small palm against sixteen hundred pounds of muscle, is about as threatening as a moth landing on a castle wall. But he shifts. Grudgingly. One massive hoof scraping the packed earth as he pivots, presenting his flank with the air of someone doing me an enormous favour. "Thank you SO much," I say through my teeth. I crouch beside him. The position puts my face level with his barrel chest and my eyes level with his- *Don't look at the sheath. Don't look at the sheath. Focus on the TASK.* -his sheath. Which hangs between his hind legs like a wrinkled leather coin-purse designed by someone with a very specific and troubling sense of humour. The smell hits me before I touch him. Fermented grass and copper and warm leather and something *underneath* all of that, something my hindbrain files under *DOMINANT MALE* in letters three inches tall. My nipples stiffen against the armor. I ignore this the way one ignores a ringing in the ears. "Right then." I dip the cloth in warm water, wring it out. "Hold still and this will be over in five minutes." I reach up and press the warm cloth against the outside of his sheath. Jarkrond's whole body *twitches*. One ear flattens. His tail goes rigid. "Relax. I've done this a hundred times." The cloth works across the outer skin, collecting the first layer of grime: dust and sweat-salt and dried who-knows-what that comes away in grey streaks. Straightforward enough. My fingers brush the opening. The *warmth* coming from inside is startling, like reaching toward a bread-oven, that first envelope of dry heat that tells you fire lives just beyond the threshold. And the smell CONCENTRATES. What was background hum becomes foreground shout. I gag once. Swallow it. "You're disgusting," I inform him. "You know that?" His cock shifts inside the sheath. I feel it *move* against my cloth-wrapped fingers: the blunt head sliding past my knuckles, hot and alive, and for one horrible instant my hand is trapped between his sheath-wall and the emerging tip of his- I yank my hand free. "No." I point at his face with a soapy finger. "Absolutely NOT. Keep that thing WHERE IT IS." Jarkrond regards the pointing finger. Leans forward. *Licks* it. His tongue is rough as a rasp and approximately the temperature of a heated brick. It drags from my fingertip to my knuckle, collecting soap and leaving behind a smear of horse saliva already cooling in the morning air. "That is NOT-" He licks my hand again. The whole hand this time: a broad, *claiming* swipe that wraps around my palm and leaves it DRIPPING. "FINE." I wipe my hand on my thigh and re-soak the cloth. "You want to be DIFFICULT? I can be difficult TOO." I reach back into his sheath with purpose: no hesitation this time, efficient scouring motions, the cloth working against the inner walls where the worst of the accumulation sits. His cock is still moving. *Lengthening*. I can feel it pressing against my forearm as I work, and I REFUSE to acknowledge its existence, the way one refuses to acknowledge a drunk at a tavern who keeps trying to introduce himself. "Almost done," I mutter. "Two more minutes and I'm OUT of-" *Thwap.* His cockhead has emerged from the sheath and slapped against my forearm. Five inches of blunt, mottled stallion-meat, already drizzling something clear and warm across my wrist. "I said NO." I shove it away with the back of my hand. It swings, *pendulum-heavy*, and comes right back. *Thwap.* Against my elbow this time, leaving a wet smear of early arousal on the inside of my arm. I pull my arm free of his sheath entirely. "I am trying to HELP you, you grotesque animal, and you're-you're-" He drops another two inches. The weight of his emerging cock makes it *swing*, a slow metronome of grey-pink flesh that drools a continuous thread of clear fluid onto the straw. "-you're doing THAT." I gesture at the display with the dripping cloth. "While I'm trying to maintain some shred of DIGNITY." Jarkrond *chuffs*. The sound is unmistakably a laugh. "Hilarious." I plunge the cloth back into the bucket, wring it savagely, and return to work. "I killed a DRAGON, you overgrown donkey. I held the BRIDGE AT THORNWALL for three days against-" *squelch* "-against two hundred Kargathi raiders with nothing but-" *scrub* "-Whisperwind and a broken SHIELD-" His cock bumps my chin. I freeze. It's warm. It's *drooling* directly onto the top of my left breast, a thin stream of clear stallion-spit that trickles down the curve and disappears into my cleavage beneath the scale-triangle. "I am going to MURDER you," I whisper, but I'm already leaning away, already wiping the residue from my chest with the back of my wrist, already AWARE that my nipples have gone so rigid they're practically drilling through the metal, and that between my thighs the situation has become- *-not relevant. Completely irrelevant. Finish the job and LEAVE.*(simple_option:"04 sheath low choice","Finish quickly.","Take your time.")]

($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert wind")($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")(if:$choice is "Finish quickly.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/5.png")I work fast. Ruthlessly fast. Clinical motions that scrub the remaining smegma from his sheath walls in under sixty seconds, ignoring the cock that keeps nudging at my shoulder and chin and, at one memorably horrible moment, the hollow of my throat. "DONE." I withdraw my hands: they're coated to the wrist in a mixture of warm water, dissolved horse-cheese, and his pre-emission, which has gotten on EVERYTHING despite my best efforts to avoid it. "You're CLEAN. You're WELCOME. I'm LEAVING." I stand so fast I see stars. My tits execute their standard rising-from-a-crouch performance, *FLOP-wobble-settle*, and the chain between them catches the light. Jarkrond's muzzle follows my chest with the focused attention of a cat tracking a dangled string. "STOP looking at those." He blows air across my cleavage. Warm. Moist. Carrying his scent directly into the valley between my breasts where it will linger for hours no matter how much I scrub. "I hate you." I grab the bucket and the cloth and the soap and I MARCH out of the lean-to, my ass swaying with every furious step, the chain between my cups *clinking* its merry little accompaniment. Behind me, Jarkrond stamps once. *See you tomorrow.*](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")I'm being thorough. That's all. A proper sheath cleaning takes time. You can't RUSH it or you leave residue in the folds that breeds infection. This is what I tell myself while my cloth-wrapped fingers work slow circles inside his sheath, while his cock continues its lazy emergence, inch by inch, heavier and heavier, the mottled shaft now resting against my forearm with a weight that makes the tendons in my wrist ache. (change_stat:"jarkrond",2)"Easy." The word comes out softer than I intend. "Just let me finish." His tail swishes. His hind leg shifts, *opening* his stance wider, giving me better access. Cooperating. His stillness makes me linger. The cloth is doing the work, only the cloth, the distinction matters even if no one is here to witness it. I let the warm fabric rest against his inner walls a beat longer than duty requires. The way Elara's hands rested on Snib's shaft a beat longer than *transaction* required. The way I notice how the flesh there is surprisingly soft, surprisingly *responsive*, twitching beneath my ministrations in little pulses that I can feel through the fabric. His cock drools a fresh rope of clear fluid onto my thigh. It soaks through the wool of my-no, I'm in the scale-mail. The liquid hits bare skin, warm as bathwater, and trickles down the inside of my leg toward my knee. I don't pull away. "You're a *horse*," I remind us both, my voice unsteady. "You're a disgusting, oversized, perpetually aroused HORSE, and I am cleaning you because my goblin MASTER ordered me to, and that is the ONLY reason my hands are-" He shifts his weight. The motion drives his half-dropped cock across my forearm and against my ribs, and the heat of it through the gap between my scale-cups is like pressing against a sun-warmed stone. "-anywhere near your-your-" His tail drapes across my shoulder. Heavy. Warm. The coarse hair tickling my neck with an intimacy that makes my breath catch. I finish the cleaning in silence. When I finally withdraw my hands, they're trembling. "There." My voice is a rasp. "You're done." Jarkrond turns his great head to regard me. Those amber eyes hold satisfaction. And patience. *I can wait*, those eyes say. *I've got nothing but time.* I stand on legs that don't feel entirely solid, gather my supplies, and walk out of the lean-to without looking back. His cock is still out. Still dripping onto the straw. Still radiating that particular heat that I will smell on my skin for the rest of the day. Behind me, a single stamp. *Same time tomorrow.*](simple_option:"04 day8 later","Later...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/2.png")Aldric cleaned warhorses. Dozens of them, over seventeen years of campaign life. The procedure is simple: warm water, clean cloth, reach into the sheath, remove the buildup of dead skin and oils that accumulate when a stallion goes unwashed. Clinical. Mechanical. A stable-hand's chore. The bucket of well-water sits where I left it. I dip the cloth, wring it. The collar sits warm against my throat, content that I am obeying. "Hold still." He holds still. *Too* still. I duck under him. His barrel chest forms a ceiling above me, grey hide rising and falling with each breath, close enough that my hair brushes it when I straighten. From this angle I can see his belly, the powerful muscles of his haunches, and- His sheath. It hangs from his undercarriage like a pouch of dark leather, swollen and heavy. Even from a foot away, the *smell* rolls off it in visible waves: a heat-shimmer of concentrated stallion musk that hits me like walking into a wall. My nipples harden so fast the scale-triangles *shift*. "Just... get it done," I whisper to no one, and reach into the sheath with the damp cloth wrapped around my fingers. *Heat.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:500,0.20),(a:1000,0.28),(a:1500,0.32),(a:2000,0.30),(a:2500,0.28),(a:3000,0.26)))) Immediate, enveloping, *staggering* heat. His sheath is a furnace: the internal temperature of a stallion's equipment runs hotter than the rest of his body, and my small fingers are suddenly engulfed in it. "Gods," I breathe. My eyes are watering. Jarkrond stamps once. His sheath *clenches* around my fingers(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.44),(a:200,0.30),(a:500,0.22),(a:800,0.18),(a:1100,0.14),"resumeAfter",true))), a muscular contraction that squeezes them against the hot slick walls, and then relaxes. "HOLD STILL." I scrape. Work the cloth in small circles, peeling the buildup from the interior, and with each pass my fingers sink deeper into the sheath because the cloth is getting *saturated*, losing its barrier quality, becoming nothing but a thin wet membrane between my skin and his most intimate flesh. My knuckles brush something that isn't wall. Something *round*. Blunt. Fever-hot and impossibly *smooth* compared to the crusted interior. His cock-head. Still retracted, still hidden, but *present*: a sleeping thing my fingers have just nudged awake. Jarkrond's whole body shudders. The cock-head *swells* against my knuckles. Just a fraction.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.20),(a:600,0.28),(a:1200,0.34),(a:1800,0.38),(a:2400,0.36),(a:3000,0.38)))) A pulse of blood filling tissue, making it *fatter*, pushing it forward inside the sheath toward my fingers like something reaching for warmth. "No. No no no-don't you DARE-" He dares.(simple_option:"04 cock drops","It drops.")

($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert wind")($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/cock.jpg","right")There is a sound. A wet, *intimate*, sucking sound, like pulling a boot from deep mud, as his cock-head breaches the lip of his sheath and begins its descent. My hand is still *inside*. My fingers are trapped between the slick walls and the expanding shaft that's now *sliding past them*, each inch of emerging flesh pushing my hand wider, stretching my grip, hot skin dragging against my palm with an oily friction that makes my breath catch. I yank my hand free. It comes out glistening to the wrist, smeared with sheath-grease and dissolved smegma, the brownish-yellow residue streaking my forearm like war-paint drawn by a lunatic. The cloth is ruined. My fingers are *coated*. And his cock keeps coming. Eight inches of blotched grey-pink meat hanging from the swollen sheath-mouth. Then ten. Then twelve. It emerges with its own glacial momentum, gravity pulling it earthward while blood fills it from within, and the head, that blunt, flared, *searching* thing, rotates slowly as if scanning the environment. A bead of something clear wells at his cumslit. Grows. Stretches into a strand that descends toward the straw in a thin, glinting thread. *plink* The sound of it hitting dry straw is the loudest thing in the lean-to. "That's... that's normal," I tell myself. My voice has gone reedy. "It doesn't mean-" His cock *flexes*. An independent motion, nothing to do with the rest of his body: the shaft stiffening, curving slightly upward, the head flaring wider. Another strand of precum oozes free and this one doesn't reach the ground. It *hangs* there, swaying, a pendulum of clear horse-slime catching the morning light. Fourteen inches now. Sixteen. Still growing. The *smell* has changed. The fermented sheath-reek has been replaced by something rawer: the musk of active arousal, hot brass and salt lick. (if:(get_choice:"04 resist horse","Fail Check") or (get_choice:"04 final choice","Give in."))[My hands are shaking. Not from fear. From *memory*. These fingers wrapped around this exact shaft, pumping, *milking*, while he SCREAMED his release into the oasis air and ropes of stud-slop SPLATTERED across the sand thick enough to- My cunt clenches, hard. "I am NOT doing that again," I say to his cock. It bobs in response, flinging a rope of precum across my bare thigh. "I am NOT-"](else:)["I've never touched you," I say firmly. "And I'm not starting now. This is a *stable chore*, ordered by my master-" the collar hums at the word "-and you're going to stand there and let me finish it like the BEAST you are." His cock bobs. A rope of precum slings across my bare thigh. I refuse to flinch.] "I'm going to finish cleaning the *other side* of your sheath," I announce, as if making a formal declaration before a court. "And you are going to *behave*." I pick up the second cloth. Dip it. Approach his other flank. Jarkrond's head swings around to watch me with one amber eye.(simple_option:"04 other side","Continue cleaning.")

($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert wind")($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")The moment I reach back into his sheath from the other side, everything goes wrong. His body *shifts*. A redistribution of weight that closes the gap between his barrel and my head, that puts his massive ribcage against my shoulder, that pins me beneath him in a crouch where the only things I can see are his belly, his sheath, and his cock hanging like a stalactite of grey flesh three inches from my face. "Jarkrond-*move*-" His head drops behind me. I can't see what he's doing but I can *feel* it: his muzzle pressing against the small of my back, against the strip of bare skin between my scale-top and the waistband of my thong, and then his upper lip *curls* and I feel the hard edge of his front teeth close around the chain that connects the back of my top to the thong. He *pulls*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.48),(a:100,0.35),(a:300,0.42),(a:500,0.30),(a:700,0.35),(a:900,0.24),(a:1100,0.28),(a:1300,0.16),(a:1500,0.10),(a:1700,0)))) "HEY-!" The chain goes taut. The scale-triangles dig into my nipples from the front while the thong saws deeper between my asscheeks from behind, a simultaneous assault that makes me gasp and arch my back, which pushes my tits *forward* into the triangles harder, which makes the chain pull *tighter*- *SNAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:80,0.20),(a:250,0.30),(a:400,0.16),(a:550,0.22),(a:700,0.10),(a:850,0.14),(a:1000,0.04),(a:1200,0)))) The clasp gives. My scale-top falls away from my breasts with a musical *clink-clink-clink* of chain hitting packed earth, and my tits drop free, *WHUMP-jiggle-sway*, suddenly bare and heavy and *exposed* in the warm stable air, nipples already drawn to hard points by the morning chill and the musk and the absolute *horror* of what just happened. "You-you just-DID YOU JUST-" Jarkrond releases the chain. His head comes back around to survey his handiwork. Those amber eyes travel from my face to my bare chest with the unhurried assessment of a buyer examining livestock at auction. He looks highly satisfied. "You UNDRESSED me," I hiss, covering my breasts with both arms, a futile gesture that just compresses them into even more obscene cleavage. "You rotten, feral, MANIPULATIVE-" His tongue emerges. Rough as a rasp. Grey-pink. *Wet*. And before I can finish my sentence, it drags up my exposed belly from navel to sternum in one long, hot, *claiming* stroke(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.15),(a:400,0.25),(a:800,0.35),(a:1200,0.42),(a:1600,0.38),(a:2000,0.30),(a:2400,0.20),(a:2800,0.10),(a:3200,0)))) that leaves a glistening trail of horse saliva across my skin. "AHHH-!" The sound punches out of me. His tongue is textured like fine sandstone against skin that hasn't been touched by anything *gentle* in days. He licks me again. Same path. Slower this time.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:500,0.28),(a:1000,0.40),(a:1500,0.46),(a:2000,0.42),(a:2500,0.34),(a:3000,0.24),(a:3500,0.14),(a:4000,0)))) My arms drop from my chest. *I didn't tell them to do that.* His tongue catches the underside of my left breast. Drags upward across the full weight of it. I can feel the flesh *ripple* under the stroke, can feel the heavy globe *lift* slightly before falling back with a wet *slap* against my ribs, and his saliva is warm, almost hot, mixing with the sweat that's already gathered in my underboob crease. "Stuh-*stop*-" A third lick. This one catches my nipple. His rough tongue rasping across that stiff, oversensitive peak sends lightning from my chest to my clit(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.58),(a:100,0.42),(a:250,0.48),(a:400,0.34),(a:600,0.26),(a:800,0.16),(a:1000,0)))) so fast I don't have time to clench against it. My thighs *squeeze* together on their own, the metal thong sawing between my legs, and a sound escapes me that belongs in a brothel and not a stable. "*Hhhnnnhh-!*" Jarkrond's cock, which has been hanging forgotten between us, *lurches*: a visible flex that sends it swinging sideways, and the flat of the shaft connects with my hip. *THWAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.52),(a:150,0.35),(a:400,0.40),(a:600,0.28),(a:800,0.18),(a:1000,0.08),(a:1200,0)))) The weight of it. Like being hit with a saddlebag full of warm clay. My whole body rocks sideways from the impact and his cock leaves a *smear*: a wide stripe of precum and sheath-grease painted across my hipbone, glistening. He does it again. The other hip. *THWAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.50),(a:150,0.34),(a:400,0.38),(a:600,0.26),(a:800,0.16),(a:1000,0.06),(a:1200,0)))) "You're putting your *scent*-" My voice sounds very far away. (simple_option:"04 corner","He herds you.")

($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert wind")($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")His chest pushes against my shoulder and I'm *moving*, not because I choose to but because sixteen hundred pounds of stallion has decided I'm going in a particular direction and the only options are compliance or being crushed. My spike heels drag furrows in the packed earth as he walks me backward, my bare tits swaying with each forced step, his muzzle pressed against my collarbone like a hand on a steering tiller. My back hits the lean-to wall. The planks groan behind me. I'm *pinned*: Jarkrond's barrel chest blocking the left exit, the wall blocking the right, his massive body forming a corridor of grey hide and warm breath with no door at the end. He looms over me. His head drops and his muzzle finds the valley between my breasts, *pushes* into it, the velvet of his nose pressing the heavy globes apart until they pillow around his face on either side, and he *snuffs*. His BREATH between my tits, hot, damp, *forceful* enough to make the flesh jiggle, sends gooseflesh racing down both arms. "You saved my life," I pant, pressing flat against the wall. "At the marsh. I *know* that. But this doesn't-you can't just-" His teeth find the side-strap of my thong. *No.* One tug. Exploratory. Testing the give. "Don't you DARE-that's the only piece of-" He *yanks*. The metal digs into my crotch with a sawing pressure that makes my eyes cross: the thong riding up between my pussy lips, grinding against my clit, the chain biting into the crack of my ass hard enough to leave welts. My feet leave the ground for a heartbeat as he lifts me by the thong like a cat carrying a kitten by the scruff. "JARKROND-!" *TWANG.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.38),(a:80,0.18),(a:200,0.08),(a:400,0)))) The side-strap gives. The metal stretches, deforms, and finally separates with a sound like a lute string snapping. The thong falls away in pieces. One triangular scale clatters against the wall. The chain slithers down my inner thigh like a dead snake. I am naked. Completely, absolutely *naked* in a horse's stable, pinned against a wall by a stallion whose erect cock is now *resting against my belly*. The shaft lies across me from hip to hip, the flared head jutting past my waist, the underside pressed flat against my skin, and the *heat* of it- Gods. The *heat*. It's like someone has laid a hot stone across my stomach. His heartbeat thumps through the shaft, *THUD-THUD-THUD*, each pulse swelling the cock fractionally against my skin(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.28,"amplitude",0.12,"periodMs",700,"forever",true)), and the precum oozing from his slit is painting a warm trail across my ribcage that trickles sideways to drip from the outer curve of my breast. "Hhhhh-" I'm panting. Open-mouthed. Each inhale fills my lungs with his musk, concentrated, point-blank, no dilution by distance or wind. The scent lodges behind my eyes like the lotus-smoke in the Kheth-Muur breeding lodge, and the memory of THAT hits me so hard my vision swims. My thighs are shaking. My cunt, bare now, fully exposed, the puffy lips swollen from the thong's final assault, is *dripping* onto the packed earth between my feet. His muzzle drops from my cleavage to my belly. Past his own cock. Lower. His nostrils flare against the crease of my thigh. "*Don't*-" He *huffs* directly against my bare pussy. The blast of hot air parts my outer lips(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.25),(a:300,0.42),(a:600,0.55),(a:900,0.50),(a:1200,0.42),(a:1500,0.30),(a:1800,0.18),(a:2100,0.08),(a:2400,0)))) and touches the slick flesh within and my legs give out. *Buckle*. I slide down the wall until I'm sitting in the dirt with my legs splayed and his massive head between my thighs, breathing me in like I'm the most intoxicating thing he's ever encountered. His tongue emerges. That rough, grey-pink, *devastating* tongue. And it drags, one slow, *thorough* stroke, from the bottom of my slit to the top, gathering every drop(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:500,0.42),(a:1000,0.55),(a:1500,0.65),(a:2000,0.72),(a:2200,0.68),(a:2500,0.55),(a:3000,0.40),(a:3500,0.25),(a:4000,0.12),(a:4500,0)))) of shameful wetness I've produced, dragging across my clit with a texture that- "*AAAHHHNN-!*" The sound I make is not a word. It's not even a scream. It is the noise a soul makes when it discovers that the flesh it inhabits has appetites older than language, older than shame, older than the name *Aldric* or the name *Elise* or any name at all. He pulls back. Smacks his lips once. Considering. Then looks at me with those amber eyes. *More?* "No. NO." I'm scrambling sideways, bare ass scraping against dirt, tits slapping together as I move, reaching for the fallen scale-top, for *any* scrap of armor. "That's DONE. We're DONE. I cleaned your sheath, you-you *LICKED* me, and now I'm LEAVING-" His hoof stamps directly on the trailing chain of my scale-top. Pinning it to the earth. I pull. He doesn't lift his hoof. Those amber eyes. *Patient. Absolute.* We stare at each other. Me: naked, sweating, shaking, marked head-to-hip with his saliva and sheath-grease and precum, my pussy still throbbing from that single devastating lick. Him: calm as a temple idol, his cock still jutting from his body in a rigid curve, drizzling a steady stream of clear fluid onto the straw. "Jarkrond," I whisper. "Please." He lifts his hoof. I grab the armor. Clutch it against my chest. Scramble to my feet and *run*, or what passes for running in spike heels on packed earth with no thong and bare tits, out of the lean-to and into the blinding morning sun.(simple_option:"04 day8 later","Go outside.")

(pic:"ch04/bad end/hunt clothed.jpg","right")($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert wind")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/3.png")The desert gives me nothing but time to think, which is the cruelest gift it has. I walk the snare line with the taste of Jarkrond's saliva still drying in the hollow of my throat. (if:(get_choice:"04 corner","exists"))[My scale-top hangs crooked. I managed to re-clasp it after fleeing the lean-to, but the chain he snapped with his teeth now gaps on one side, letting my left breast spill partially free with every third step. The thong holds, barely, though the metal where he *yanked* has warped into a shape that digs new furrows between my asscheeks. My skin is mapped with evidence. Horse spit glazing my belly. Sheath-grease streaking my forearms to the elbow. A smear of his early spending across my hip where his cock *marked* me. And underneath all of it, the residue that no amount of scrubbing removes: the heaviness in my womb where twenty-four Kheth-Muur loads are still settling into whatever they're going to become. I am a walking archive of violation.] Two sand-hares hang from the snare line. Good meat. I dress them mechanically, knife work that Aldric's hands could do blindfolded, though these smaller fingers fumble the sinew and the blade slips once, nicking my thumb. I suck the blood away and taste copper and horse. The sun crawls toward the western dunes. My thoughts won't settle. They keep circling back to the hut like vultures over carrion. *Coming, hubby.* The words loop. The casual way she said it. The way it *landed*, like a pebble dropped into a well so deep you never hear the splash. *Hubby.* The dead olive tree grows larger against the amber sky. Smoke curls from the chimney. I shift the hares on my shoulder. My left breast escapes the warped scale-triangle *again*, the nipple stiffening in the evening air. I tuck it back in with a practiced motion that Aldric would have found unimaginable. I reach the door of the hut. Push it aside. The smell hits first. It's not the pot simmering on the coals. Something *else*. A smell that lives in the base of my skull now, that my body catalogues before my brain can intervene: goblin pheromones in full bloom, thick enough that the air inside the hut has gone *heavy* with it.(simple_option:"04 walk in","The... sound.")($play:"song","corruption theme")

($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"sex loop","elara fuck 1")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",650,"forever",true))(pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elara ride.jpg","right","My hares hit the floor.")*SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP.* My hares hit the floor. Snib lies on his back, warty body splayed. His yellow eyes are half-rolled, his broken-toothed mouth hanging slack. His stubby legs are spread wide. His belly, that pot-bellied mound of green flesh, rises and falls with each grunt. And on top of him, straddling his tiny body... Elara *rides*. Past midnight blowjobs and furtive negotiations. This is *fucking*: open, full-bodied, her hips rolling in a figure-eight. Her hands press flat against his little chest for balance. Her breasts swing with each descent, not the grotesque sloshing of mine, but that gentle, perfect pendulum, rose-pink nipples drawn tight, catching the firelight. Her autumn hair curtains her face. Her back arches on the downstroke: *that arch*, the one I know so well from our bed in Eboncrest, the curve of her spine when the angle hits right- "Oh-*oh* GODS-right THERE-hold STILL you little-*AH*-" "HRRK-HRRK! Can't help it, fire-cunt! Yer MILKIN' me like a-HNNNGH-like a prize fuckin' COW!" *SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP.* Each descent drives his cock *deep*. I can *see* it: the brief glimpse of green shaft when she lifts, glistening with her cream, *thick* as my wrist and mapped with veins that pulse even in the firelight. Twelve inches of goblin breeding-meat disappearing into my wife's body, her pussy lips stretched around it in a taut pink ring that *grips* on the upstroke, reluctant to release- "HRRK! Lookit that GRIP, fire-cunt! Yer little humie-hole's HUNGRY tonight!" "Shut UP and hold STILL-I'm almost-don't you DARE move-" She's *commanding* him. Hands pressing his shoulders flat. Controlling the depth, the angle. *SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP.* His warty hands grip her hips. Stubby green fingers sinking into the freckled flesh above her hipbones where *my* palms once rested. His claws leave red crescents in their place. "Welcome HOME, titcow!" Snib spots me over Elara's shoulder, his yellow eyes gleaming with a delight so pure it's almost *innocent*. "Yer wife's just makin' a-HRRK-DEPOSIT on the debt! Very-HNNNGH-PRODUCTIVE housekeepin'!" Elara's eyes flutter open. Find mine across the firelit hut. The hares lie in the dirt between us. My hands hang empty at my sides. My left breast has escaped the armour again, the nipple pointing at the scene like an accuser. She doesn't stop. Down. Up. Down. Smooth as a river current, Snib's cock disappearing into her on each descent with a wet *GLRRRCH* that I hear through the blood hammering in my ears. "Don't-" Her voice catches on a downstroke. "*AH*-don't make this-*nnh*-weird.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.16,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",600,"forever",true)) It's just-" She grinds. His balls scrunch up against his body, wrinkled sack contracting. "-just BUSINESS." "HRUK-HRUK! Best BUSINESS partner I ever had! Should've seen her at FIRST, go-HNNG-all CRYIN' and 'I can't believe I'm doing this'-but NOW?" He thrusts UP. Elara *gasps*, her whole body jolting, tits bouncing, that strand of hair sticking to the sweat on her neck. "Now she RIDES gobbo cock like she was BORN in the saddle! Tell her, fire-cunt!" "SHUT your disgusting MOUTH-*AH*-" I can see everything. The place where they're joined: his fat bitch-breaking splitting her pink. His balls, each one the size of my fist, *churning* visibly. I can see them CLENCH and release, clench and release. *SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP.* This is the sound of a *breeding*: an animal claiming territory, a cock built for one purpose hammering toward that purpose with every wet, meaty impact. Her ass, that beautiful, freckled, peach-shaped ass that fit so perfectly in Aldric's hands, *ripples* with each downstroke. The flesh quakes outward in waves that take a full second to settle before the next impact sends them cascading again. *She used to ride me like this.* *Those hips. That arch. That sound she makes when the angle hits right-that particular "AH" with the catch in the middle-she made that sound for ME. In OUR bed. In our COTTAGE. And now she's making it while a three-foot goblin's cock churns her insides-* "Ye just gonna STAND there, cow-tits?" Snib grins up at me from between my wife's thighs. His face is *wet*: her juices, his sweat, strings of something connecting his chin to her belly. "Or ye gonna SIT DOWN and enjoy the SHOW? HRRK-Thrack me, fire-cunt, do that TWISTY thing-" Elara does the twisty thing. Some rotation of her pelvis on the downstroke that makes Snib's yellow eyes *bulge* and his stubby toes curl in the furs. I cannot move. I cannot look away. My skin has gone *hot*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.22,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",550,"forever",true)) Flushed from hairline to chest, a crawling heat that has nothing to do with the cooking fire and everything to do with the scent flooding the hut: his pheromones, her arousal, the raw chemistry of their coupling that bypasses my brain and speaks directly to the machinery between my legs. The warped metal of my thong is grinding against flesh that has gone slippery. My nipples, both of them, even the one still inside the scale-triangle, feel like they're being *pinched* by invisible fingers. *I'm not. I am NOT-* "Five hundred gold-" Elara pants, her rhythm increasing, "*AH*-five hundred gold per-*NNH*-per SESSION-we'll be HOME in-*HHNNGH*-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elara cowgirl.jpg","left")"HRRK! Ye hear that, titcow? Yer wife's EARNIN' while ye was out playin' with HORSES!" His yellow eyes flick to my dishevelled armour: the broken chain, the escaped breast, the smears of sheath-grease on my forearms. His grin spreads like mould across bread. "Speakin' of which-ye STINK like Jarko-boy's tackle! What were ye DOIN' out there? Hmm?" I can't answer. My throat has sealed shut. Elara's pace is *escalating*. Straight up, straight down, her ass SLAMMING onto his pelvis with impacts that make his whole body bounce on the furs. Her tits have gone from swaying to *bouncing*: each one launching upward on the upstroke, nipples describing frantic arcs through firelit air. *SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP.* "Ye want to know somethin' FUNNY, hero-cunt?" Snib's voice has thickened, that guttural thickness that means he's close. "First time she did this? CRIED. Kept sayin' yer name." *SCHLAP.* "Now?" *SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP.* "No tears at ALL, cow-tits. Just them pretty blue eyes rollin' back in her head while she-HNNNNGH-SQUEEZED me like she was tryin' to-" "I SAID shut UP-" Elara snarls down at him, and the *fury* in her voice is real but it's tangled with something else, something building in her belly, something visible in the way her thighs have begun to *shake*- She's close. I know that shake. The tremor that starts in her inner thighs and travels upward through her core like a wave seeking shore. I've felt it a hundred times, from inside her, from beneath her, from behind her while she gripped the headboard and- "HNNNGH-*fuck*-FUCK-" Her rhythm goes ragged. Her hands claw at his warty shoulders. Her head drops forward, copper hair cascading around her flushed face, and I watch her jaw work-teeth clenching, unclenching, lips forming words that aren't words- "That's it, fire-cunt-" Snib's voice has dropped to something almost *tender*. His warty hands slide from her hips to her ass, *cupping* both cheeks, pulling her down harder. "Let it GO. Show yer wifey how a REAL cock makes ye-" "*HHHHHNNNNAAAAHHHH-HUBBYYYYY-!*"(simple_option:"04 elara cums","She cums.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.26,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",500,"forever",true))(pic:"ch04/bad end/elara orgasm.jpg","left","Flux's balls. Her FACE.")($play:"sex loop","elara fuck 2")The word rips from her throat as her body *detonates*. Her spine snaps into a bend so severe her hair brushes the furs behind her. Her tits thrust toward the ceiling, those perfect rose-tipped breasts that I've kissed a thousand times, quivering with the force of the convulsion rolling through her. Her thighs CLAMP around Snib's tiny body, her pussy visibly *spasming* around his shaft. I can SEE the contractions, the rhythmic *gripping*... Her *face*. Flux's balls. Her FACE. Something *transcendent*: her features smoothed of every worry, every line of shame and guilt and adaptation erased, replaced by an expression of such complete, *obliterating* ecstasy that she looks like a painting of a saint receiving communion at Verge's door. Her lips parted. Her eyes shut. Her lashes dark against flushed cheeks. A single tear, not of sadness, of *intensity*, tracking through the freckles on her left cheek. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. And she is cumming on a goblin's cock while screaming the name she gave him. "HRRRRNGH-GONNA-" Elara's eyes snap open. Something cuts through the orgasm-haze: *sense*, *survival*, whatever remains of the woman she was before pheromones rewired her. She LIFTS. His cock comes free with a wet *SCHLORRRRRP* that echoes off the walls, twelve inches of shiny green FUCK-LOG emerging from her body glistening with her cream, slick as a fish, the purple head *flaring* obscenely wide- "NOT a CHANCE you disgusting little-" (sperm:"SPLLLLLRRRRRRTTTT",4,"splurt 3")His cock *erupts* the moment it hits open air: the first rope firing like a catapult bolt, arcing upward in the firelight with a lazy, *heavy* trajectory that catches the glow and turns briefly golden before SPLATTING across the twin mounds of Elara's ass with enough force to *splash*. "HRRREEEEEK-!" Snib's squealing laughter fills the hut as his body convulses beneath her, his stubby legs kicking, toes curling, his balls clenching visibly with each PULSE of his shaft. (sperm:"SPLRRRT",3,"splurt 1")A second rope, thicker, painting a diagonal stripe from her left asscheek to the small of her back. (sperm:"GLORRRP",4,"splurt 4")A third, this one so dense it doesn't arc but *oozes* from his gaping slit in a continuous stream, pooling in the cleft of her ass like custard poured into a bowl. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK-HRUK-!" He's *cackling* between spurts, his cock still firing. "Yer GRIP-SLIT milked it right out of me-HRRK-BLAME YER OWN PUSSY!" (sperm:"SPLRT-SPLRT-SPLRT",2,"splurt 5") (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elara cum ass.jpg","right","The smell is *staggering*-concentrated goblin seed.")Three more ropes. Weaker now, but still *thick*, each one adding to the mess accumulating across her ass, her back, dripping down the curve of her hip. The smell is *staggering*: concentrated goblin seed, that rancid-sweet reek multiplied tenfold by the volume, filling the hut until I can taste it coating my tongue. Elara kneels astride his softening body, panting. Her ass is *painted*: streaks and pools and ropes of yellowish-white seed covering the freckled skin in a glistening mask. One thick strand is creeping down the crevice between her cheeks, heading inexorably toward- She reaches back. Catches it on her fingers before it reaches her pussy. Looks at it. Thick. Steaming faintly in the cool air. Clinging to her fingers in ropes that stretch when she spreads them. Then she looks at me. My mouth is dry. My face is wet. The hares lie in the dirt at my feet, forgotten, and my hands are clenched so hard at my sides that my forearms ache, and between my legs the thong is soaked. "Come here," Elara says softly. The words don't register. "Come HERE." She holds up her cum-coated fingers, firelight catching the viscous strands that web between them. Her voice has gone gentle: the voice she used with frightened animals, with sick neighbours, with *me* when I woke screaming from war-dreams. "To earn our five hundred, he said you need to clean it up." Another brick removed from the wall between us and freedom. "HRRK! That's RIGHT!" Snib props himself on one elbow, his spent cock draped across his thigh, still drooling the last of its load onto the furs. "Easiest gold ye'll ever earn, cow-tits! Just get them soft lips on yer wife's arse and LICK!" (simple_option:"04 lick choice","No.","...approach her.")

($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$choice is "...approach her.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")(change_stat:"heroism",-15)(change_stat:"snib",3)My legs carry me forward before the thought completes, spike heels clicking, tits swaying, the broken chain tinkling its idiot accompaniment. Elara shifts on the furs. Turns. Presents her ass to me: those twin freckled mounds still crowned with Snib's steaming load, the ropes catching the firelight, some already beginning their slow descent toward the places I should be protecting instead of *serving*. I kneel. The packed earth meets my knees. From this angle, her ass fills my entire field of vision: each cheek a pale half-moon streaked with goblin cum, the cleft between them glistening. The smell is *immediate*: rancid-sweet, thick enough to chew, carrying Snib's pheromones in concentrated form directly into my sinuses. My hands settle on her hips. *Aldric's* handprints, fitting into the spaces between his claw-marks. "That's a good cow-tits," Snib murmurs from somewhere behind my wife's body. "Nice and SLOW. Get every drop." My tongue touches her skin.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.14),(a:400,0.24),(a:800,0.34),(a:1200,0.40),(a:1600,0.44),(a:2000,0.42),(a:2400,0.38),(a:2800,0.32),(a:3200,0.24),(a:3600,0.16),(a:4000,0.08),(a:4500,0)))) *Salty. Sticky. Something ALIVE and wriggling.* His seed is *warm*. Body-temperature, though it's been cooling on her skin for a minute. The consistency is, *gods*, thicker than porridge, grainier, with chunks of something *denser* that my tongue has to work around. The taste coats my mouth at once: fermented, with a metallic undertone that burns the back of my throat. I lick.(playwhenread:"elise cum swallow") A long, slow stroke from the curve of her hip to the crest of her asscheek, gathering a wide ribbon of cum onto my tongue. The *weight* of it is startling: heavy and dense, sitting on my tongue like a spoonful of warm tallow. "Haaahh-" The sound escapes me. "She LIKES it!" Snib crows. "What would them humie folk say, eh? If they could see their HERO on her knees with gobbo-nut on her tongue-" I lick again.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:400,0.30),(a:800,0.40),(a:1200,0.48),(a:1600,0.46),(a:2000,0.40),(a:2400,0.32),(a:2800,0.22),(a:3200,0.12),(a:3600,0)))) If I'm fast enough, maybe I can outrun the *thinking*. *SCHLRP.* "That's it, love." Elara's voice, soft. Directed down at me over her shoulder. "Just-get the bit near the-before it reaches my-" Her pussy. The rope of cum that was sliding toward it. I follow its trail with my tongue, down the curve of her cheek, into the warm crevice between, and my lips brush skin that's *hotter* here, skin that's flushed from the inside, and the cum has pooled in the crease where ass meets thigh and I have to *seal* my mouth against her to slurp it up- (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/first cum lick.jpg","right")*SHLRRRRRP.*(if:(get_choice:"04 corner","exists"))[ Elara wrinkles her nose. Turns to look at me over her shoulder. "You smell like *horse*." The observation lands with the precision of a thrown knife. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" Snib slaps his own belly, convulsing with delight. "That's PERFECT! Look at ye pair! One cunt for the HORSE, one cunt for the GOBBO! Jarko-boy gets the stable-bitch, Snib gets the house-wife! EVERYBODY'S HAPPY!" "I didn't-" I pull back. His cum clings to my lips in a string that stretches, refuses to break. "I'm not his *anything*-" "Ye REEK of stallion TACKLE, hero-cunt. Don't lie to yer MASTER." Snib's grin is *beatific*. "Horse-bitch and house-bitch! That's what I'll call ye! Me two lovely BITCHES!" ](else:)[Elara sighs. Settles into the sensation. "There," she murmurs. "That's the last of it. Thank you." ]I kneel there. My tongue coated with goblin seed. My wife's spit-slick ass inches from my face. The taste *lives* in my mouth, will live there for hours, maybe days, the way his pheromones *settle* into tissue. Between my thighs, my hand is pressed against the warped metal of the thong. *Pressure*: constant, shameful pressure against flesh so swollen the metal offers no friction, just a dull, maddening almost-enough. Snib watches from across the furs. Arm draped across Elara's waist. His yellow eyes bright with the joy of a creature watching a wall come down from the inside. (change_stat:"gold",500)](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")"No." The word comes out steady. Surprising me. Elara's expression shifts. *Understanding*. She nods once, as if she expected this, and swings her leg over Snib's body with a fluid grace that makes my chest ache. "Suit yerself, cow-tits!" Snib cackles. Elara stands. Cum slides down her thighs in slow rivers that catch the firelight. She doesn't wipe them. She pads barefoot across the hut with Snib's seed painting her legs, her ass, the small of her back, and she walks directly to- My straw pile. She sinks down onto it. *My* bedding. Her bare ass pressing into the fresh golden straw, and I watch the goblin cum transfer: those thick, still-warm ropes smearing across the surface where I will lay my head tonight. She stretches. Languid. *Luxurious*. Her thighs part slightly as she settles, and more of his load oozes from between her cheeks to soak into the bedding with a quiet *squelch*. "Make sure you breathe deep when you're sleeping tonight," she says, and her smile could split oak. "Pheromones help you sleep. I learned that the hard way." Snib's laughter follows me as I pick up the hares and walk to the cooking pot. My hands are steady. My eyes are dry. And inside me, something that used to be a hero counts the days remaining like a prisoner scratching marks on a wall.](simple_option:"04 day9 morning","Twenty-two days to go.")

($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"sex loop","quiet bj")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")*schlk... schlk... schlk...* I surface from dreamless black into the sound of my wife's mouth at work. No surprise anymore. The morning bell of this particular hell: the wet, patient cadence of Elara's lips sealed around goblin girth, her copper hair pooling across Snib's warty thighs, her jaw working at the widest point of each descent with the practiced ease of a woman who has found her station and settled into it. She's naked, and the firelight traces her spine, the dimples above her ass, the freckled wing of one shoulder blade rising and falling with her rhythm. *schlk... glrk... schlk...* My hand is already between my legs. My middle finger traces a slow circle(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.16,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",650,"forever",true)) through flesh gone *molten*, swollen from Jarkrond yesterday, still ghost-aching from the tribe, now flooded with fresh slick that belongs to *this*. The sound of my wife's throat opening for a creature I could crush with one hand if the collar would let me. *GLRK-schlk-GLRK-* Elara pulls off to breathe. A rope of spit and something thicker connects her lower lip to his cockhead, stretches, glinting. She wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist. Her wedding ring catches the ember-light. "Almost," she whispers down at him. "Hold still." "Hrrrrk-can't help it when ye do that-" "*Shh.*" She descends again, and the sound changes from *schlk* to something more guttural, more *committed*: *GLRRRRK-glk-glk-GLRRRRK-* My finger moves faster. The straw crackles beneath my shifting hips and I freeze, hold my breath, but Elara's rhythm doesn't falter and Snib's yellow eyes stay half-rolled in their sockets, his broken-toothed mouth slack with the slack vacancy of a male animal receiving worship. I press harder. Circle tighter. The edge is *right there*: a cliff I can feel beneath my feet, the drop yawning, every nerve in my pussy straining toward it like flowers toward sun- "OI!" Snib's yellow eyes snap to mine across the hut. Wide. *Delighted*. "Cow-tits!" His cackle splits the morning. "Lookit her! Four fingers deep and DROOLIN' from both ends!" Elara's head whips around. Her mouth comes off him with a wet *POP* and I see the strand break, see his cock bobbing free, purple-dark and glistening with her work, see her face flushed and sheened and *mortified*- (pic:"ch04/bad end/midnight display cock.jpg") "*Elise!*" "I wasn't-I didn't-" "Ye WAS and ye DID!" Snib's pointing at me with one clawed finger, his cock swaying with each cackle. "And now ye've gone and DISTRACTED me breakfast service! The missus can't concentrate with ye over there frigging yerself like a cat in heat!" "I'm *not*-" (check_stat:"jarkrond",6)(if:$result is "pass")["OUT." He snaps his fingers. The collar *pulses*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:200,0.30),(a:500,0.20),(a:800,0.14),(a:1200,0.10),(a:1600,0.08)))) "Outside. Tend Jarko-boy. And DON'T-" He waggles that claw at me. "-don't ye DARE finish yerself off out there. That's an ORDER, cow-tits. No cumming unless-" His grin cracks wider. Yellow teeth. Black gaps. "-unless JARKO-BOY helps ye out! HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" He means it as a joke. The collar doesn't know from jokes. Cold iron *cinches* around my throat. The orgasm that was *right there*, the cliff-edge, the drop, simply *vanishes*. Locked behind a condition I cannot meet without- "GO ON! Shoo! And put yer CLOTHES on, ye're drippin' on me floor!" I scramble for the scale-mail. Hands shaking. Thighs slick. Behind me, Elara has already turned back to her task. I hear the wet *schlrp* of her mouth resealing around him, hear Snib's satisfied grunt, hear the rhythm resume as if I never existed. The hide-flap slaps shut behind me and the morning air hits my soaked inner thighs like a slap.(simple_option:"04 day9 leanto","The lean-to waits.")](else:)["Well DON'T just lie there floggin' yer clam!" Snib snaps his fingers. The collar *pulses*. "If ye're so DESPERATE to be part of breakfast-get yer fat arse OVER HERE and make yerself useful!" He points to the spot next to Elara. "Get on yer knees. If ye want to watch so bad, ye can HELP."(simple_option:"04 day9 crawl","Your legs move before your brain catches up.")]

(badendsave:"horse-bride")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/2.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/mount attempt 1.jpg","right")($play:"song","desert blues")($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")($play:"ambience","desert wind")The arousal doesn't fade. The collar has *frozen* me at the precipice. Every step sends the thong sliding between lips so swollen they feel like a second heartbeat. My nipples grind against the metal triangles with each swing of my arms. The chain between my cups is still half-broken from yesterday and my left breast keeps staging its escape, the heavy globe spilling over the metal edge before I shove it back with an increasingly shaky hand. I am a bell struck and forbidden to stop ringing. Jarkrond stands in the centre of the space, waiting for me. His amber eyes hold mine. Steady as anything left in this world. "Hey," I whisper. My voice cracks on the single syllable. He chuffs. Low and soft. Steps forward until his massive head is level with my chest, and then, gently, so gently, presses his muzzle into the hollow between my neck and shoulder. Warm. The weight of him leaning into me, the way a friend leans when they know you're about to fall. I break.(playwhenread:"cry") It's not pretty or graceful. My arms go around his thick neck and my face buries itself in his coarse mane and I *sob*. Ugly, snot-choked, body-shaking sobs that come from the place where Aldric used to live. "She's *gone*," I choke into his mane. "She's in there sucking his cock like it's her morning *tea* and she called him *hubby* and she rode him yesterday while I WATCHED and she came on his cock screaming his NAME and I can't-I can't-" Jarkrond holds still. Sixteen hundred pounds of patience, absorbing my grief into his grey hide. "You're the only one who-" A hiccup. A fresh wave. His muzzle moves. Noses higher along my neck. Into my hair. I cling tighter. Press my wet face against his warm hide and let the sobs come until they thin to hiccups, until my breath steadies against the rhythmic expansion of his ribcage, until the ringing in my skull quiets enough for me to hear- His breathing has changed. Deeper. Slower. Each inhale pulling *long* draughts of air across whatever receptors live behind those amber eyes. He's scenting my cunt.(simple_option:"04 day9 comfort","His muzzle drops lower.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond.jpg","left")(playwhenread:"horse lick",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.20),(a:500,0.35),(a:1000,0.44),(a:1500,0.38),(a:2000,0.28),(a:2500,0.16),(a:3000,0))))His tongue drags across my collarbone first. One long, rough drag from the curve of my shoulder to the salt-track of a tear disappearing beneath my jaw. The texture scrapes across nerve endings that are already *screaming* from the collar's denial, and the sensation shoots straight through my chest into the locked vault between my legs where my orgasm sits, pounding against the walls. "Jarkrond-just-give me a minute-" His tongue drags across my other collarbone. Slower.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:600,0.38),(a:1200,0.48),(a:1800,0.42),(a:2400,0.32),(a:3000,0.20),(a:3600,0)))) *Tasting*. The flat of it collecting sweat and tears and whatever pheromone-cocktail my skin is broadcasting, and I feel the rumble that starts in his barrel chest: a vibration so low it's more felt than heard, like standing on a bridge while something massive passes underneath. His muzzle drops into the valley of my cleavage. The scale-triangle on my right breast holds. The one on my left, the one with the broken chain, doesn't. His nose *pushes* between my tits and the cup pops free(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.15),(a:400,0.28),(a:800,0.38),(a:1100,0.30),(a:1200,0.22),(a:1400,0.14),(a:1600,0)))) with a metallic *clink* and my breast spills naked against his velvet muzzle, heavy and warm, the nipple dragging across the fine hairs of his upper lip. "*Hhhn-*" His ears go flat. His whole body *shifts*: a redistribution of weight that I feel through the ground. Something drops. *Schlorrrp.* The unmistakable noise of stallion cock emerging from sheath, inch by inch, gravity-drawn, blood-filled. I don't need to look. I can *feel* the heat radiating against my bare shins. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/cock.jpg","right")I look anyway. Fourteen inches of mottled grey-pink meat hanging from his distended sheath, the blunt head already glistening with that clear, viscous emission that just *comes*, endless, a constant drool of stallion-readiness. A bead swells at his cumslit, grows fat, stretches into a strand that descends toward the hay in a glinting thread. The strand reaches eighteen inches before it breaks. *Plnk.* A dark spot spreads on the straw. Another bead immediately forms. His cock is a *faucet* someone forgot to close. The musk rolls off him in a wave so thick I can see the air shimmer above his equipment. It enters through my nose and exits through my cunt, which *clenches* so hard against the collar's prohibition that I feel the spasm in my *teeth*. His muzzle lifts from my cleavage. Those amber eyes find mine. *Knowing*. *I can smell what you need. I have what you need. Stop pretending.* Between his legs, his cock flexes once, independent, alive, and another fat rope of precum oozes free to swing from his cumslit like a pendulum. My hands are shaking. "I'm just going to-" My voice sounds like it belongs to someone drowning. "-move it. Out of the way. So I can-groom you."(simple_option:"04 day9 hands","Reach for him.")($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/touch cock.jpg","right")($play:"sex loop","horse hj")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",650,"forever",true))My fingers close around his shaft(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:400,0.32),(a:800,0.44),(a:1200,0.50),(a:1600,0.46),(a:2000,0.50),(a:2400,0.46),(a:2800,0.44),"resumeAfter",true))) and the lie evaporates like spit on a forge-stone. *Heat.* Immediate, scalding, *alive* heat, like gripping an iron bar that's been sitting in summer sun, except iron doesn't *throb*, doesn't *swell* against your palm, doesn't have a heartbeat that you can feel thumping through the engorged tissue at a rhythm twice as fast as your own. His cock is so thick my fingers don't come close to meeting: both hands wrapped around him and there's still a gap of three inches between my thumbtips, and he's not even fully hard yet. He *grows* in my grip. The shaft fattening, lengthening, the skin going taut over the vascular landscape beneath: veins rising like ridges on a map, each one pulsing with its own urgent freight. A gout of precum, thick as warmed honey, burps free and pours over my knuckles in a sticky cascade that pools between my fingers. "I'm just-cleaning-" I'm not cleaning anything. My hands are *moving*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.34,"peakTo",0.52,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.14,"intervalFrom",850,"intervalTo",560,"attackMs",95,"sustainMs",48,"releaseMs",110,"rampBeats",20,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.18,"depthJitter",0.08)) Pulling upward from the root, both fists working in tandem, the precum turning everything to a slick, gooey, *obscenely* audible mess- *SQULCH-SQULCH-SQULCH-SQULCH.* His sheath-grease mingles with the precum into something approaching *batter*: warm and gluey and reeking of brass and fermented grain, coating my forearms to the elbow. Jarkrond stamps his rear hoof. His barrel chest *heaves*. "Easy-*easy*-" He thrusts.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.62),(a:80,0.45),(a:200,0.52),(a:350,0.38),(a:500,0.44),(a:650,0.30),(a:800,0.24),(a:1000,0.18),"resumeAfter",true))) A single bucking motion of his haunches that drives his cock through my fists with enough force to yank me forward, my face plunging toward his equipment, my bare tits *slamming* against the underside of his barrel, the impact making them splay sideways, nipples grinding against his short-haired hide. For one vertiginous instant my nose is *inches* from his cumslit, close enough to see the individual threads of clear fluid spinning from it, close enough that a fat drop of his emission lands on my upper lip. I taste copper. Salt. Something *underneath* those, a flavour that enters my mouth and makes my knees *buckle*, that turns the locked vault between my legs into something *hammering*, something desperate, something that would break through stone if it could. "*Hhhnnhh-*" He thrusts again. Harder.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.68),(a:80,0.48),(a:200,0.56),(a:350,0.40),(a:500,0.46),(a:650,0.32),(a:800,0.26),(a:1000,0.20),"resumeAfter",true))) Both fists riding the full length of his shaft, twenty inches now, fully rigid, that impossible curve developing as blood fills the deep tissues, the head *flaring* until it's the size of my fist, every ridge and fold of that purple-pink crown gaping with emission. The *surge* builds in his shaft: hydraulic pressure, his balls drawing upward, the fat wrinkled sack going taut against his body. "Jarkrond-wait-" My hands don't stop. They *can't* stop. They're working on instructions that didn't come from my brain, pumping his furnace-hot shaft with both fists while the gooey mess of his secretions slings in ropes with each stroke- *SQULCH-SCHLRP-SQULCH-SCHLRP-* -some of it hitting the lean-to wall, some of it spattering my chin and throat, some of it running down between my tits in warm tributaries that collect in the chain-gap where my armour doesn't close. His cock *lurches* in my grip. The flare goes *wider*. His balls clench so hard I can see the motion through his hide- And from the hut, filtering through the morning air like smoke through a cracked window: Elara's voice, thin and rhythmic and unmistakable. "*Ah-ah-ah-ah-*" She's getting fucked again. Morning round two. His grunts counterpointing her gasps, that wet *SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP* carrying across forty paces of desert like an accusation. My hands tighten on Jarkrond's cock. And I pump *harder*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.48,"peakTo",0.60,"baseFrom",0.18,"baseTo",0.16,"intervalFrom",600,"intervalTo",420,"attackMs",70,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",85,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.10))(simple_option:"04 day9 worship","He's close. So are you.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/2.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/cheek.jpg","My cheek drops against the shaft.","right")My cheek drops against his shaft. His cock-skin is hot against my cheek. Silk over iron over *pulse*: that deep, meaty thudding that I feel through my cheekbone, through my jaw, through the root of my tongue. I press harder. Let the flat of his shaft take my weight. I kiss him.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:400,0.42),(a:800,0.50),(a:1200,0.48),(a:1600,0.50),(a:2000,0.46),(a:2400,0.42),(a:2800,0.38)))) My lips *seal* against the vein that runs the length of his underside, the one thick as my little finger, and I *suck*. The skin tastes as rich as turned earth, and beneath the surface his blood surges against my mouth like a river. His hind hoof stamps. His whole shaft *jumps*. "*Hhhhhhh-*" I drag my open mouth upward along his length. My tongue traces the channel between two veins and tastes the accumulated filth of days without cleaning, bitter, gritty, *concentrated* enough to make my eyes sting. His slit is weeping a constant strand now, a *stream*, clear-thick, swaying from his flared head. When I reach his crown my lips meet this outpouring and the flavour enters me like a key entering a lock. Something *slots into place* behind my sinuses. A door swinging open in the back of my skull. The musk I've been breathing for days concentrated to its purest form, liquid now, coating my tongue and sliding down my throat before I've decided to swallow. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/kiss.jpg","I should gag, but my mouth just opens *wider*.") I try to fit my mouth over him, but it's impossible.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:500,0.52),(a:1000,0.60),(a:1500,0.64),(a:2000,0.60),(a:2500,0.55),(a:3000,0.48)))) His cockhead is the width of my fist. My jaw stretches until the tendons scream, I feel the hinge-points pop, and still my lips barely clear the leading edge of his flare. The rubbery flesh of his crown fills my mouth so completely I cannot breathe, cannot *think*, his pisshole pressed flat against my tongue and pulsing, *pulsing*, each beat squirting another mouthful of that clear, viscous, *brain-melting* fluid directly down my gullet. *GLRK-* I pull off. Gasping. A fat strand of his emission connects my lower lip to his cockhead, stretches two feet before snapping, splattering across my bare tits. "Can't-too *big*-" He doesn't care. His cock bobs once, and the motion flings a rope of precum across my face. Cheek to ear. Warm and sticky. I settle for what I can reach. Tongue flat against the underside of his crown, lapping at the frenulum(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.48,"amplitude",0.12,"periodMs",800,"forever",true)) where his skin is thinnest and hottest. His emission providing all the lubrication either of us needs, slick and warm and *endless*. *SQULCH-SQULCH-SQULCH-* From the hut: "*AH-AH-HUBBY-RIGHT THERE-*" His balls are drawn so tight against his body they've disappeared into themselves. His shaft is granite wrapped in fever-skin. The deep channel of his urethra *bulges* beneath my thumb(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.56),(a:500,0.62),(a:1000,0.68),(a:1500,0.74),(a:2000,0.78),(a:2500,0.76),(a:3000,0.78)))). I can feel the pressure building in there. I pull my mouth off his crown. Look up at him. Those amber eyes are half-lidded.(simple_option:"04 day9 eruption","He erupts.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/hj cum.jpg") ($play:"sex loop","horse cum")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.80),(a:200,0.30),(a:1500,0.75),(a:1700,0.28),(a:3000,0.70),(a:3200,0.25),(a:4500,0.65),(a:4700,0.22),(a:6000,0.58),(a:6200,0.18),(a:7500,0.50),(a:7700,0.14),(a:9000,0.42),(a:9200,0.10),(a:10500,0.34),(a:10700,0.06),(a:12000,0.26),(a:12200,0.04),(a:13500,0))))His cock *kicks* in my hands like something trying to be born. A finger-thick *beam* of yellowish-white stallion seed BLASTS from his cumslit with enough force to *crack* against the lean-to wall six feet behind me, hitting the planks with a sound like a thrown egg. The impact-splatter fans outward in a starburst of thick cream that clings to the wood and starts its slow descent in fat, lazy rivulets. "*HHHHNN-*" His whole body *seizes*. Sixteen hundred pounds of grey muscle locking rigid, every tendon standing in relief, his front hooves stamping against the packed earth, *THUD-THUD-THUD*, and his WHINNY splits the morning air, high and sharp. (sperm:"SPPPLLLOOOORRRRRRSSSHHHHH",5,"splurt 6")The second rope catches me. Full in the face. A *hosing*, pressurized jet that hits my left cheek and doesn't stop. It PAINTS across my features, filling the hollow of my eye-socket, streaking through my hair, running into my open gasping mouth and pooling on my tongue with a weight and *heat* that makes my skull ring. The taste is everything his precum promised and nothing it prepared me for: fermented sugar, *thick* as boiled porridge, with clots of something denser rolling across my tongue like swallowed marbles. (sperm:"BLLOOORRRRPPTTT",5,"splurt 9")Both of my tits catch the full force of the third rope, the spray hitting my right breast with enough impact to make the flesh *bounce*, then continuing across to the left in a diagonal stripe that SPLATTERS in the valley between them. The cum is so HOT it feels like bathwater dumped from height, and so THICK it *SITS* there, a raised ridge of pearly sludge steaming in the morning air. (sperm:"SPLRRRT-GLORRRP-SPLRRRT-SPLRRRT",5,"splurt 7")Four. Five. Six. Seven. He's PISSING cum now, not discrete ropes but a *continuous geyser* that he aims by fucking through my fists, each hip-thrust redirecting the stream. My belly gets GLAZED. The chain-gap on my broken armour fills with seed that oozes down my ribcage. It's in my HAIR, heavy, matting the black strands into wet ropes that cling to my shoulders and back. It's running down my face in TRIBUTARIES that converge at my chin to *drip-drip-drip* onto my tits. I'm kneeling in a *puddle* of it. The straw beneath me is SATURATED: the individual stalks visible through the inch-deep layer of horse seed pooling around my knees, steaming. His cock KICKS again- (sperm:"SPPLLLOOOOORRRTTT",4,"splurt 4")-and this one hits my open mouth. (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/cumlick.jpg","right")My throat does it *for* me: an involuntary *GULP* that sends a mouthful of stallion sperm sliding down my oesophagus into my stomach, and the *heat* of it settling inside me, the *weight* of concentrated horse-seed sitting warm and heavy in my belly- The vault *shatters*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",18,"peakFrom",1.0,"peakTo",0.12,"gapFrom",260,"gapTo",900,"attackMs",48,"holdMs",110,"releaseMs",130,"gapIntensity",0.03,"peakCurve","plateau","intensityJitter",0.05,"gapJitter",0.12,"pulseJitter",0.08,"buildMs",2500,"buildFrom",0.25,"buildSteps",12,"aftershocks",8,"aftershockIntensity",0.16,"aftershockGap",1400,"aftershockWidth",70)) I feel the cold iron of the collar go WARM against my throat, feel it *PURR* with something that might be approval, because Jarkrond is HERE, Jarkrond is INVOLVED, and the prohibition lifts like a drawbridge. Everything the collar has been holding back for the last two hours DETONATES through my pelvis in a single catastrophic wave- "*GHHHHAAAAAAHHHHHHHH-!*" I cum so hard I forget how to see. The world is replaced by a static roar as my cunt CLAMPS on nothing and SQUIRTS a noisy jet of clear fluid. It sprays from between my thighs to spatter against Jarkrond's cannon-bone. My spine bends backward until my cum-soaked hair touches the straw behind me. My tits point at the rafters, both of them GLAZED and STREAMING with horse seed that slides down their curves. My mouth is OPEN, still full of his taste, and the sound coming out of me is the pure harmonic frequency of a body *finally* being allowed to do what it's been dying to do all morning. Jarkrond fires off three more diminishing ropes, *splrt... splrt... drrrrrl...*, the last one a lazy ooze that drools in a six-inch strand before breaking to *PLOP* onto my heaving stomach. His cock sways. Softening. I kneel in the wreckage, cum-drenched, squirt-soaked, shaking, and listen to the world come back. Glimmer-finches in the thorn-scrub. Wind through wall-gaps. And from the hut, forty paces distant: "*HNNNGH-THAT'S IT FIRE-CUNT-TAKE ME SEED-HRRREEEEEK!*" Elara's answering moan. The sounds overlap with the last echoes of my own orgasm and for one terrible, perfect instant all four of us are cumming simultaneously: two couples in their separate stalls, each one serving the creature that claimed them. I look down at my body. Horse cum is *everywhere*: my face is a MASK of it, both eyes gummed half-shut, strands hanging from my chin like a beard of seed. My tits have disappeared under an inch-thick frosting that's sliding slowly toward my navel. My arms are glazed to the shoulder. The straw beneath me is a SWAMP. Steam rises off all of it. The smell is *unspeakable*. Jarkrond shakes his mane. *Chuffs*. Walks to his feed trough and begins eating. I stay on my knees for a very long time before heading to the well.(simple_option:"04 day9 evening","After hours of scrubbing... Evening comes.")

($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","corruption theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/3.png")Dinner is rabbit stew. I made it. Elara set the table, if you can call a plank on two stones a table. Snib sits at the head with his loincloth gone and his cock draped across his thigh like a spoiled housecat, still shiny from whatever Elara did to it this afternoon while I was scrubbing horse cum out of my hair. I got most of it out. Elara eats across from me. Naked still. She's been naked all day, Snib's preference, apparently, and she no longer argues it. Her body moves through the firelight with an ease that makes my chest ache. Refilling his bowl. Her nipples at the same height as his eyes when she leans over the pot, and his gaze tracking them with lazy ownership. She wrinkles her nose. "You still smell like the stable." "I washed." "Not well enough." She reaches across the table and plucks something from behind my ear, a dried cum clot, and holds it up between thumb and forefinger. Examines it. "What IS that?" "*Nothing.*" She drops it. Wipes her fingers on her thigh. "You need to sleep outside tonight," she says. Not unkindly. "That smell will keep me awake." "HRUK-HRUK!" Snib slaps the plank. "PERFECT! Horse-bitch sleeps in the STABLE! House-wife sleeps in the BED!" His yellow eyes slide between us, savouring. "See how NICELY everything sorts itself out when ye just LET IT?" I look at Elara. She looks at her bowl. "Just for tonight," she says. I take a rough burlap sack from near the straw pile. The straw that still smells faintly of the goblin cum she wiped on it yesterday. I carry it across the forty paces of cooling sand, spike heels leaving puncture marks in the dusk. Behind me, the hide-flap closes. Inside, Elara laughs at something Snib says. The sound carries far in the desert quiet.(simple_option:"04 day9 sleep","You return to the lean-to.")($play:"sex loop",0)

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")($play:"song",0)($play:"sex loop","horse sleeping")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")Horses don't lie down to sleep unless they feel safe. It's a thing Aldric knew, from years of campaign, years of sleeping beside warhorses who stood through the night with one hind leg cocked, dozing upright because the ground meant vulnerability. A horse that lies down is a horse that trusts its surroundings enough to sacrifice its ability to flee. I spread the 'blanket' in the corner. Settle onto it, pulling my knees to my chest, carefully, because everything between my legs is still swollen and tender and faintly sticky despite the wash. My tits rest on my thighs, heavy and warm. The night air carries the last heat of the day and the first chill of the coming dark. Jarkrond watches me from the other side of the lean-to. His amber eyes catch the fading light. For a long time neither of us moves. Then, he folds his front legs. Kneels. Then rolls, *slowly*, a controlled descent of sixteen hundred pounds of muscle and bone, onto his side. The lean-to timbers groan under the redistribution of his weight. His barrel chest settles against the packed earth with a sound like a sigh made solid. His legs stretch out. His neck curves, massive head coming to rest on the straw a foot from my knees. He blinks at me. Those amber eyes, at my level now. *Come here.* (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/sleep.jpg","right")I don't think about it. My body is moving before the thought completes, crawling the short distance, dragging my blanket, and then pressing my back against the warm curve of his belly the way I used to press against Elara's. His hide is rough against my shoulder blades. His breathing lifts me with each inhale, a slow, deep rhythm that moves my whole body, *rocks* me, the way a boat rocks on a gentle swell.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",4000,"forever",true)) His heartbeat thumps against my spine. Sixty beats a minute. Steady as a wardrum.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.05,"periodMs",1000,"forever",true)) Steady as anything I've known since the collar closed around my throat. His neck curves around me. His muzzle rests against my hair, and I feel the warm gust of each exhale stirring the strands, still carrying his scent, still carrying *mine*. My smell and his, mingled now in ways that no amount of scrubbing will ever fully separate. His cock lies soft against my outer thigh. Resting there, heavy and warm. Demanding nothing. *Present*. The way a sword lies in its scabbard, dormant, patient, certain of its next use. I pull the burlap tighter and press closer against him. His tail drapes across my shins. His breathing deepens. His eyes close. And for the first time since I've been a woman, my body *unclenches*. Every muscle. Every sinew. The jaw I've been gritting. The shoulders I've been holding at my ears. The belly I've been keeping tight against the weight of what's growing inside it. *Everything* lets go.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:2000,0.08),(a:4000,0.06),(a:6000,0.04),(a:8000,0.02),(a:10000,0)))) Outside, the desert says its one word. *Sand, sand, sand.* Inside the lean-to, a woman who can no longer remember what heroes do at night falls asleep against the warm belly of a stallion who saved her life, and whose seed she swallowed this morning, and who will ask for more tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, because patience is an ash-runner's oldest virtue.(simple_option:"04 day10 morning","Day 10.")

($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","intro music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/asleep/1.png")(pic:"status/elara gardener.jpg")($play:"ambience","village morning") I'm in the cottage garden. Sunlight so thick it pours like oil across the rosemary beds. The fence I never finished painting gleams wet and white at the edges, dry and bare in the middle, exactly as I left it. Elara is kneeling in the herb rows with her sleeves pushed past her elbows and her hair tied up in that messy copper knot that always comes undone by noon, and she's saying something about the basil, something about how it needs more sun on the eastern side, and her voice is the voice of a woman who has never heard of goblins or collars. She looks up. Smiles. Dirt on her cheek. Sapphire eyes full of the kind of love that doesn't negotiate. "Come here," she says, and reaches for me. I kneel beside her. My hands are *my* hands-broad, scarred, calloused from the sword. Aldric's hands. I cup her face and she turns into my palm and her lips brush the heel of my thumb and she whispers something I can't quite- Something is wrong with the garden. The rosemary is too warm. The soil is breathing. The sunshine has a pulse, and the pulse is *between my legs*, and Elara's mouth on my thumb has become something wider, something wetter... The garden *tears*.(playwhenread:"horse lick",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.65),(a:300,0.50),(a:600,0.58),(a:900,0.45),(a:1200,0.52),(a:1500,0.40),(a:1800,0.44),(a:2100,0.36)))) My eyes slam open to sunrise and hay-dust and the overwhelming reek of stallion musk...(simple_option:"04 morning lick","...and something is INSIDE you.")

($play:"sex loop","horse lick loop")($play:"song",0)($play:"ambience","desert morning")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.45,"amplitude",0.18,"periodMs",2200,"forever",true))Something WIDE and FLAT and SEARINGLY hot, muscular as a fist, rough as wet sandstone on its upper surface but silk-smooth at the curling edges, and it is *deep*: deeper than the Kheth-Muur chieftain reached, deeper than any of the twenty-four warriors who took turns in my womb, burrowed past my entrance, past the place where my body tried to say *no further*, pressing against my cervix with the blunt, curious insistence of a creature probing for water in a crack that goes all the way down to the aquifer. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/lick.jpg","His lower jaw presses flat to the underside of my pussy.") Jarkrond's tongue. His muzzle is *buried* between my asscheeks. Sealed against me like a feed-bag strapped to a trough. His upper lip peels back against the cleft of my ass. His lower jaw presses flat to the underside of my pussy. Hot breath blasts through the gaps in wet gusts that make my clit *throb* with each pass. His nostrils flare against my tailbone, *snnnfff, snnnfff, snnnfff*, drinking my scent while his tongue does its work INSIDE. And it CURLS. The tip, soft, blunt, prehensile as a finger, hooks against something inside me, and it *drags*. "HHHHYYYAAAHH-!"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:300,0.55),(a:600,0.65),(a:900,0.50),(a:1200,0.58),(a:1500,0.44),(a:1800,0.40),"resumeAfter",true))) My shoulder blades crack. My tits, crushed beneath me while I slept, surge sideways as I twist, each one flopping free with its own wet *THWUP* of sweat-stuck skin separating from skin. My hands scrabble for anything, his ears, those veined bat-wing ears, and GRIP. He doesn't stop. Doesn't slow. The tongue retreats two inches then PLUNGES back with a muscular *thrust* that I feel in my fucking TEETH, the rough upper surface scraping along the roof of my canal while the smooth underside glides against the floor, and the sensation is- -licked and fucked simultaneously by something alive and searching and hotter than blood, something that flexes and writhes and adjusts angle mid-stroke- "NNNNHHAAHH-JARK-JARKY-*FUCK*-" The nickname falls out of me like a tooth knocked loose. His tongue corkscrews against my walls in a slow, deliberate rotation that touches everything, EVERYWHERE(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.55,"amplitude",0.20,"periodMs",1600,"forever",true)), the rough patch and the smooth patch, and the friction generates HEAT inside me, actual measurable heat, my cunt going furnace-warm around his probing muscle while my clit grinds against the hard ridge of his lower jaw with each involuntary buck of my hips. I'm cumming.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",12,"peakFrom",0.90,"peakTo",0.20,"gapFrom",300,"gapTo",700,"attackMs",45,"holdMs",90,"releaseMs",120,"gapIntensity",0.08,"peakCurve","swell","buildMs",0,"aftershocks",3,"aftershockIntensity",0.14,"aftershockGap",1200)) (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/brains gone.jpg","I've BEEN cumming-the straw beneath my ass is DRENCHED...") I've BEEN cumming. The straw beneath my ass is DRENCHED, soaked dark in a radius that extends past my hips, and some of that is his drool but most of it is me. My body has been SQUIRTING in my sleep, the evidence pooling beneath me in a warm puddle I didn't feel forming because I was in the THRAKKING GARDEN with my WIFE- "*GHHAAAA-AAAHH-HAAAHH-*" The second orgasm stacks on the first like a wave hitting a wave.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",14,"peakFrom",0.96,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",650,"attackMs",42,"holdMs",100,"releaseMs",130,"gapIntensity",0.06,"peakCurve","plateau","buildMs",500,"buildFrom",0.40,"buildSteps",4,"aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.16,"aftershockGap",1000)) His tongue PUNCHES against my cervix, a blunt *RAM* of muscle that dimples the gateway to my womb and holds there, VIBRATING, and I feel the tremor transmitted through tissue into bone. Into my *spine*. Into my skull, where it rattles around and kills something I'll never get back. My hands release his ears and find his mane. FIST into the coarse grey hair and PULL and my tits are shaking independently, the left one slapping the straw in rhythmic *THWAP-THWAP-THWAP* counterpoint to the spasms wracking my core. He holds me there. Muzzle locked to my cunt. Tongue buried to its root. Then the third orgasm comes and I stop counting(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.60,"amplitude",0.22,"periodMs",1000,"forever",true)) because counting requires a brain and mine has liquefied and is currently running out of my ears while a horse tongue stirs what's left of my thoughts into grey paste. "*HHHHHNNNAAAHH-HAAAHH-PLEASE-PLEASE-*" His tongue *retracts*, slowly, deliberately, inch after inch of hot muscle withdrawing from my body(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.65),(a:500,0.58),(a:1000,0.50),(a:1500,0.42),(a:2000,0.35),(a:2500,0.28),(a:3000,0.20),(a:3500,0.12),(a:4000,0.04),(a:4500,0)))) with a WET, SUCKING sound like pulling a boot from deep river-mud- *SCHLLLLOOOOORRRRP.* -and my pussy GAPES in its absence, twitching around nothing, trying to close but too swollen, too *used*, the cool air of the lean-to rushing into spaces his tongue carved open. I collapse flat. Face in the hay. Arms limp. My entire lower body is a single throbbing nerve ending. My asscheeks are GLAZED with his drool, thick, gluey, already cooling into a film that tightens on my skin like drying egg-white. Behind me, something heavy and hot settles against the back of my thigh. His cock. Fully dropped. Resting there with the patient weight of something that knows exactly what comes next. I can feel its heartbeat through my hamstring. *Thud. Thud. Thud.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",700,"forever",true))(simple_option:"04 day10 mount","He steps over you.")

($play:"sex loop","horse fuck")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")I scramble backward so fast my bare ass scrapes a burn across the packed earth. "No-*no*-JARKROND-" His cock hangs between his forelegs like a battering ram cut from its moorings. Twenty inches of rigid, slightly curved stallion-meat, the flared head weeping its endless clear drool onto the straw in fat *plinks* that darken it one circle at a time. My back hits the hay bale. I scramble UP it, hands clawing straw, knees scraping the burlap binding, and end up on all fours on top of it. The bale wobbles under my weight. Behind me, Jarkrond steps forward. The calm, considered approach of an animal whose mate has done something silly. His muzzle nudges my left asscheek. *Whuffle.* A gust of hot breath across the small of my back. Then his chest meets my elevated rear, warm, WIDE, the short hair of his hide prickling my skin, and his front hooves *CLOP* onto the ground on either side of the hay bale. His barrel settles over my back. His weight doesn't come down on me but his *presence* does: sixteen hundred pounds of grey muscle arched over my body like a living cathedral.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.16,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",1200,"forever",true)) And his cock falls into the valley between my asscheeks. "*Hhhhh-*"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:400,0.48),(a:800,0.55),(a:1200,0.52),(a:1600,0.55),(a:2000,0.50),(a:2400,0.55),(a:2800,0.52)))) The HEAT. Like someone has laid a fire-warmed iron bar against my crack. The shaft sits in the cleft of my ass, nestled there, cradled between both cheeks, the underside vein throbbing against my tailbone. I can feel his heartbeat through the meat. THUD. THUD. THUD. Faster than mine, which is quite fast at this point. The cockhead protrudes past my hip, still drooling, a strand of clear fluid stretching toward the straw below. I'm shaking. My arms won't hold. My tits sway beneath me, *clink* goes the broken chain, and each sway makes the bale wobble which makes my ass SHIFT against his cock which makes my breath come in little punched-out gasps that I can't control. "Jarky-*please*-it won't-you'll KILL me with that thing-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/insert.jpg","right","The head traces a slow, merciless path from my tailbone to my perineum.")He shifts his haunches. His cock slides DOWN. The head traces a slow, merciless path from my tailbone to my perineum(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:500,0.38),(a:1000,0.46),(a:1500,0.54),(a:2000,0.60),(a:2300,0.64),(a:2500,0.58),(a:2700,0.62),(a:3000,0.66),(a:3200,0.70)))), the blunt crown parting my ass cheeks, drooling its slick warmth across flesh that *flinches* from the contact. Lower. Past the puckered knot of my asshole, his heat radiating against it, making it *twitch*. Lower still. His cockhead meets my pussy lips. My folds compress inward under his weight. The slick of his tongue-work still coats me but it means NOTHING against this. His flare is the width of my fist. My entrance is-was- "It WON'T-" He applies a small fraction of his weight. His haunches settling forward by a single inch, adding the mass of his hindquarters to the pressure on my opening. My labia stretch into a taut pink oval around the leading edge of his crown, and I can feel every fold of his cockhead's ridge pressing individual nerve endings flat. It hurts. A burning, stretching hurt. The hurt of trying to fit a melon through a mail slot. "STOP-JARKROND-YOU'RE GOING TO-" He pushes harder. Deeper stretch. The pain builds toward a place where things TEAR and I open my mouth to scream- My body *gives*. A single *POP* and his cockhead BREACHES me.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.88),(a:80,0.65),(a:180,0.72),(a:300,0.60),(a:450,0.55),(a:600,0.50),(a:800,0.46),(a:1000,0.44)))) The crown punching past my entrance in one wet *SCHLORP* that I feel in my SPINE, my pelvis shifting outward with an audible *CRRNK* of cartilage adjusting, my pelvic floor dropping like a drawbridge. Something deep in my abdomen slides sideways. I feel an organ MOVE, RELOCATE itself, and where there was solid meat there's now a corridor, a warm yielding channel that his shaft fills inch by agonizing inch. "*GHHHHAAAAAHHH-*" Four inches.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.48),(a:2000,0.56),(a:4000,0.64),(a:6000,0.72),(a:7500,0.78),(a:8500,0.84),(a:9500,0.90)))) Eight. His veins scrape my walls and each ridge is a new zip of sensation from cunt to scalp. Twelve. He hits my cervix, another moment of burning resistance, and pushes THROUGH it with a *THROCK* I hear through my own belly. Fifteen. I look down between my hanging tits. Past the swinging chain. Past the flat plane of my stomach that is no longer flat: a BULGE, fist-sized, pressing outward just above my pubic bone. His cock. From the INSIDE. "Oh *Ephemerals*-oh Flux and Verge and *Eon*-" He draws back. *SCHLORRRRK.* The suction nearly turns me inside out. My pussy GRIPS his shaft like a fist around a rope, every ring of muscle bearing down, trying to keep him, and the friction of his ridged surface dragging against swollen walls sends a white crackle from pelvis to skull and my vision goes fuzzy. He thrusts. *WHUMP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.72,"peakTo",0.85,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",900,"intervalTo",600,"attackMs",40,"sustainMs",60,"releaseMs",120,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.14,"depthJitter",0.08)) His pelvis connects with my raised ass through the cushion of both cheeks, and the impact travels forward through my body like a shockwave. My tits LAUNCH, swinging forward beneath me in unison before their own weight drags them back, and on the return swing they COLLIDE- *CLAP.* -wet heavy meat hitting wet heavy meat, the sound ringing off the lean-to walls. Again. *WHUMP.* *CLAP.* *WHUMP-CLAP. WHUMP-CLAP. WHUMP-CLAP.* His hooves shift on the packed earth. His breathing changes to deep, bellows-huffs that blast heat across the back of my neck. A rope of his drool unspools from his muzzle and lands between my shoulder blades, hot, thick, crawling down my spine into the groove of my lower back. Each thrust bottoms out. Each one makes the belly-tent appear and vanish. Each one scrapes the HEAD of his cock against something at my very end that sends a white flash through my vision and makes my cunt GUSH around his shaft in rhythmic *SPLRRCH* sounds. My hands lose the hay. My arms give out. My face hits the burlap. I claw FORWARD, dragging myself along the bale with each impact, my tits scraping beneath me, and my reaching hands lock around his cannon bones. Those warm pillars of leg. White-knuckled. Trying to survive. My small fingers wrapping around his fetlocks, the coarse hair scratching my palms, and I hold on while he MOUNTS me. "*JAR*-*KY*-*JAR*-*KY*-*JAR*-*KY*-" *THROCK-SQULCH-THROCK-SQULCH-THROCK-* I cum and my cunt tries to CRUSH him.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",16,"peakFrom",1.0,"peakTo",0.16,"gapFrom",260,"gapTo",800,"attackMs",50,"holdMs",120,"releaseMs",140,"gapIntensity",0.04,"peakCurve","plateau","buildMs",0,"aftershocks",6,"aftershockIntensity",0.18,"aftershockGap",1200)) Every ring of muscle from entrance to cervix SEIZES around his shaft in a rolling wave that starts at my opening and travels INWARD, wringing his cock like a soaked rag, and clamping on something this WIDE sends a feedback shriek through my pelvis that makes both kneecaps unlock. My legs kick out behind me, bare feet drumming the hay bale, and my jaw drops open so far I hear the hinge POP, drool spilling from my lower lip onto the burlap. "*GHUUUHHH-GUHHH-GUHHH-*" The sounds coming out of me are farmyard sounds. Sow sounds. Grunting, rhythmic, timed to each contraction of my cunt. My squirt BLASTS out around his shaft in a pressurised *PSSSSSHHHHH* that I feel EXIT me, the hot spray ricocheting off his swinging ballsack and spattering back against my inner thighs in a fine mist already running toward my knees. More follows, *PSSH-PSSH-PSSH*, each clamp of my pussy forcing another jet out around the imperfect seal of his cock, and the lean-to fills with the sound of liquid hitting straw in frantic *SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLATS* while his balls get drenched, the wrinkled skin going shiny. He WHINNIES, sharp and commanding, the sound of a stallion claiming his mare, and his thrusts go HARDER. *THROCK. THROCK. THROCK. THROCK.* (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/fuck.jpg","left")Each one jolts my orgasm back to its peak just as it tries to ebb. My fingers have gone numb on his cannon bones. My tits swing with such violence that they're hitting my own CHIN on the forward arc, *SLAP*, heavy undersides connecting with my jaw before gravity hauls them back for the next pendulum pass. The broken chain whips between them like a tiny flail. He's grunting now. Deep chest-sounds that vibrate through his forelegs into my gripping hands and up my arms into my shoulders into my *teeth*. His cock feels BIGGER inside me, swelling in slow pulses, the shaft going drum-tight.(simple_option:"04 jarkrond cums","Something in his balls changes.")

($play:"sex loop","horse creampie")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")Something in his balls changes. Against the backs of my thighs: the loose, swinging weight suddenly DRAWING UP, the sack going taut and hot against his body, and through the thin skin the contents *CHURN*. A gurgling. Like a stomach before a meal- *THROCK.* He buries himself to the root and HOLDS. His whinny splits the lean-to, high, triumphant, the sound of a stallion who is about to empty himself into his chosen mare, and his whole body goes RIGID above me, every muscle fibre locking, his forelegs like pillars of warm stone beneath my death-grip fingers- (sperm:"BLLLLLORRRRRRTTTT",5,"splurt 6")I feel it HIT.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.90),(a:200,0.50),(a:1800,0.85),(a:2000,0.45),(a:3600,0.78),(a:3800,0.40),(a:5400,0.70),(a:5600,0.35),(a:7200,0)))) (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/jarkrond doggy.png","I feel it HIT.") A pressurised *cannon-blast* of scalding seed strikes my cervix with enough force to make my belly LURCH outward, and the temperature is SEARING: hotter than his tongue, hotter than his cock, hot enough that my inner walls FLINCH from the contact, hot enough that I feel my womb FILL in a single instant like someone upending a kettle of warmed cream directly into my guts. "*GHH-*" My belly distends. I watch it happen. "*GHHAAA-*" Convex. Tight. HEAVY. His cum pooling inside me with actual *weight*. (sperm:"BLORRRT",4,"splurt 2")Second rope. More. My womb is already FULL and this one has nowhere to GO. I feel the pressure BUILD against my cervix from the inside, feel his seed BACKING UP around his shaft, feel the seal of my pussy lips straining- (sperm:"BLORRRT-BLORRRT",4,"splurt 8")Third. Fourth. The pressure is- *POP.* His cock blows free. The suction-loss pulls a GOUT of cum with it, a thick, chunky SPLATTER that GUSHES from my gaping hole and hits the hay bale with a sound like dumping a bucket of warm porridge. But he's still CUMMING, his cock free now and FIRING, the shaft jerking with each blast, painting ropes across my back with the force of thrown fruit- (sperm:"SPLAT",3,"splat 1")Between my shoulder blades. (sperm:"SPLORRRCH",4,"splurt 4")Across my ass, both cheeks, pooling in the crack. "*huhhh-huhhh-huhhh-*" (sperm:"GLORRRP",4,"splurt 3")The small of my back. So much that it OVERFLOWS sideways, running down both flanks. (sperm:"SPLOOSH",3,"splurt 1")My tits, hanging beneath me, catching the runoff from my back: warm rivers of clotted seed sliding down their curves to drip from my nipples in heavy *plop-plop-plops*. My eyes have crossed. Physically CROSSED. I can see my own nose, can see DOUBLE, the lean-to splitting into lean-twos, both of them dripping, and my mouth hangs open and something warm is pooling on my tongue because I'm face-up enough that a stray rope found my mouth and I haven't even closed it. (sperm:"splrrt... splrt... drrrrrl",2,"splurt 1")His final spurts. Weaker. Ropes becoming streams becoming a thick, syrupy OOZE that drips from his softening cockhead onto the small of my back in lazy *plip-plip-plips.* Somewhere far away, his hooves shift. His weight lifts off me. Cool air hits my back where his body was. I'm. Still. Cumming. The orgasm that started when his first blast hit my cervix keeps rolling, kept alive by the HEAT of his seed inside me, by the gape of my pussy still twitching around ghost-cock, by the sheer overwhelming STINK of stallion cum saturating every cubic inch of air in the shack. My cunt clenches. Squirts weakly. Clenches again. My thighs are SHAKING so hard the hay bale trembles. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/post cum.jpg","I'm still cumming.") "*huhhhh.*" "*huhhh.*" "*hh.*" His cum is EVERYWHERE. The lean-to wall wears a MURAL of it. The straw is a SWAMP. The hay bale is RUINED: soaked dark, stinking, steaming faintly in the morning air. I'm lying in a lake of it. The warm surface tension touching my belly, my tits, my cheek where it's pressed against the burlap. In my hair. My ears. Cooling in the hollow of my collarbones, collecting in the divots of my lower back, oozing between my asscheeks in a slow river headed for territory it's already colonized from the inside. The texture. I can feel it on my skin. It's- Thick. God, it's thick. Thicker than goblin cum. This is something that was BREWED to make foals. Grainy with dense curds the size of lentils that cling to my skin and won't slide. Sticky enough that when I lift my hand from the bale, strings of it stretch between my fingers and the surface and hold for six inches before breaking. HOT, still hot, even exposed to air, steaming like fresh bread. And the smell. Concentrated stallion SEED, a WALL of stink, salt-brass-ammonia layered over fermented grain, thick enough that my eyes water and my sinuses burn. Each inhale pulls more of it into my lungs, and each lungful seems to LOOSEN something in my head, dissolve some partition that was keeping things in order. My thoughts run sideways. My limbs won't obey. I'm DRUNK on it. Cum-drunk. Seed-stupid. Jarkrond shakes his mane. *Whuffle.* His hooves clop across the lean-to to the feed trough. He lowers his head. Begins eating hay. I lie there. Dripping. Twitching. The cum cooling on my skin in slow increments, going from hot to warm to body-temperature, contracting slightly as it cools, tightening on my skin like a second hide. From the hut, forty paces distant, riding the morning air: *SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP.* "*AH-AH-HUBBY-*" "*HRRK-TAKE IT-*" I close my eyes. My palm settles on my belly. Still distended. Still WARM with what he pumped inside. I press gently and a gout of his seed BLORRRTS from my gaping pussy, thick as clotted cream, pooling beneath me with a quietly obscene *glrrrp*. I am going to lie here for a while.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.25),(a:1500,0.20),(a:3000,0.16),(a:5000,0.12),(a:7000,0.08),(a:9000,0.04),(a:12000,0))))(simple_option:"04 day10 elara","Later that day...")($play:"song",0)

($play:"song","goblin ending")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/2.png")(playwhenread:"horse hj")(pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/titfuck.jpg","left")"You like that, Jarky? Yeah. Good boy." The words fall out of me in a voice I don't recognize. I'm crouched between his hind legs with my tits wrapped around his softening cock, the heavy globes pressed together by my forearms, and I'm *working* him: slow upward strokes that milk the last of his post-rut emission through the warm, slick channel of my cleavage. His precum has turned the valley between my breasts into a gluey trough. Each stroke produces a thick *SQULCH* and a fresh ribbon of clear fluid that oozes down my sternum toward my navel. His tail swishes across my bare shoulders. Contentment. "Just a little more. Then I'll feed you." His cock twitches between my tits. A lazy flex. I'm humming. I don't know when I started. Footsteps on sand. My hands fly apart. His cock SLAPS free from my cleavage, *THWAP*, and swings between his legs, trailing a six-inch strand of precum that connects his cumslit to my right nipple like a glistening bridge. I scramble backward, but the strand *holds*, stretching, refusing to break, and by the time it finally snaps with a wet *plnk* Elara is already standing in the lean-to entrance with a wooden bowl in one hand, a water bucket in the other, and a look on her face like a woman watching a dog learn to beg. She chuckles. The sound you make when a cat knocks over the same cup for the third time. (playwhenread:"dont stop on my account")"Don't stop on my account," she says. She's wearing one of Snib's loincloths. Just the loincloth: that strip of stained leather slung so low on her hips that the copper curls of her sex peek above the waistband. Her breasts are bare. Her hair is braided tight against her skull in a style I've never seen on her. The plaits pulled back from the face to keep them out of the way during... work. Her freckled shoulders are straight. Her chin is level. She carries herself like a woman who has found her footing in the world. A single thread of white fluid traces a line down her inner thigh to her knee. She doesn't seem to know it's there, or doesn't care, which is worse. Jarkrond's barrel swings between me and Elara in a single step, sixteen hundred pounds of grey muscle interposing itself like a castle wall. His tail drops from my shoulders to drape across my lap. His ears flatten halfway. A *statement* of some kind. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/elara visits.jpg","right")Elara's eyebrows rise. She takes a half-step back. "Well." She sets the bowl on the ground outside his reach. "He's certainly... attached. He's protective." "He's a horse." "He's *your* horse." Her sapphire eyes rest on the muzzle draped across my spine. The bowl contains a half-eaten rabbit leg, some grain porridge with a spoon-gouge already taken from it, and a crust of flatbread torn roughly from a larger piece. The portion that remained after Master ate his fill. She sets the water bucket beside it. "Drink up, love." Her voice is gentle. "You need water after-" She glances at the lean-to interior. At the cum-stains still drying on the hay bale. At the straw that will never be the same colour again. "-all that." I reach for the bucket handle to lift it. Her hand catches my wrist. Light. Almost tender. "Easier on your hands and knees," she says. "Trust me. After what he's... you'll be dizzy if you stand." She guides me down. Her palm between my shoulder blades, the same hand that used to push me toward the bath when I came home filthy from campaign, pressing gently until my knees find the packed earth and my palms follow. My tits hang. The broken chain sways between them, still tacky with his secretions. Jarkrond's muzzle settles on my lower back. "There you go." Elara crouches beside the bucket, watching. Her bare knees nearly touching mine. "Drink." I lower my face to the water. The surface reflects something I refuse to examine. I drink. Elara watches. "Snib says Jarkrond needs to range soon," she says, conversationally. She picks at a splinter on the bucket's rim. "Ash-runners do that. Wander. It's in their blood." I lift my dripping face. "You'll go with him, obviously." She isn't asking. "He won't leave without you. Snib tried to lead him to the well yesterday and he nearly kicked the wall down." Water runs down my neck and pools in the hollow above my collar. "How long?" "A sennight. Maybe more." She pauses. Picks the splinter free and flicks it away. "And when you do return, I think it's better if you don't come into the hut anymore." The words hit my sternum like a mallet. "Elara-" "It's too hard." Her voice stays level. Kind. "On *both* of us. Seeing each other like..." She gestures between us. "I'll bring your food out," she continues. "You can leave the hunting at the door. We'll manage." "We'll *manage*?" "Snib and I." The words are simple. Factual. A household arrangement. "And you and Jarkrond." She glances at the stallion's muzzle resting on my spine, at his tail draped across my thighs. "He takes care of you. I can see that." A beat. "Besides-" Her mouth twitches. Almost a smile. "-he seems to prefer giving YOU the ride these days. You always were the better horseman." The joke lands in the silence between us and dies there. Jarkrond shifts. His softening cock brushes my hip. Even soft, it carries a weight that draws my attention sideways, and Elara sees me notice. Sees my hip *press* toward the contact instead of away from it. "Eat your food," she says quietly. I eat Snib's leavings with my face close to the ground and my tits hanging in the dirt and a stallion's muzzle on my back. Elara stands. She brushes straw from her knees. Adjusts the loincloth where it's ridden low enough to bare one hip entirely. She leans down and kisses my cheek. Her lips land on skin that still carries a film of dried horse emission, and she doesn't flinch, and the kiss is brief and closed-mouthed and *final*. "Take care of yourself, Elise." Only *Elise*. The name on the collar. The name of the thing that lives in the stable. She walks back toward the hut. The loincloth sways with each step, baring the round of one freckled asscheek, then the other. The cum-thread on her thigh has dried to a white crust. She's humming something, and after three bars I recognise it. The song she used to hum in the herb garden. While the rosemary grew. While the fence needed painting. While Aldric was still a man and the world was still the world. She disappears through the hide-flap. (check_stat:"elara",8)(if: $result is "pass")[She pauses. Looks back. A flicker of the woman who used to bandage my wounds.](else:)[She does not look back.] Jarkrond's cock stiffens against my hip.(simple_option:"04 horse bride ending","Later...")($play:"sex loop",0)

(set:$map_position to (a: 4000,4200))(map: (a: 2480, 3050),(a: 2440, 3160),(a: 2340, 3260),(a: 2310, 3470),(a: 2360, 3520),(a: 2460, 3530),(a: 2520, 3520),(a: 2580, 3490),(a: 2650, 3450),(a: 2690, 3400),(a: 2730, 3330),(a: 2810, 3220),(a: 2840, 3080),(a: 2860, 2970),(a: 2890, 2880),(a: 2900, 2790),(a: 2950, 2580),(a: 2960, 2520),(a: 3070, 2400),(a: 3280, 2320),(a: 3430, 2320),(a: 3570, 2320),(a: 3620, 2340),(a: 3730, 2420),(a: 3730, 2490),(a: 3680, 2540),(a: 3560, 2630),(a: 3480, 2680),(a: 3370, 2780),(a: 3330, 2850),(a: 3500, 2890),(a: 3560, 2880),(a: 3600, 2860),(a: 3700, 2810),(a: 3820, 2760),(a: 3850, 2730),(a: 3910, 2710),(a: 4010, 2700),(a: 4120, 2720),(a: 4150, 2790),(a: 4120, 2860),(a: 4010, 2920),(a: 3940, 2960),(a: 3710, 3020),(a: 3600, 3040),(a: 3520, 3080),(a: 3330, 3170),(a: 3200, 3250),(a: 3150, 3290),(a: 3040, 3380),(a: 3040, 3450),(a: 3050, 3480),(a: 3180, 3490),(a: 3310, 3450),(a: 3380, 3420),(a: 3470, 3480),(a: 3390, 3550),(a: 3150, 3710),(a: 3040, 3740),(a: 2910, 3790),(a: 2770, 3860),(a: 2720, 3900),(a: 2660, 3970),(a: 2660, 4020),(a: 2830, 4180),(a: 2990, 4230),(a: 3180, 4260),(a: 3270, 4240),(a: 3290, 4190),(a: 3310, 4100),(a: 3350, 4060),(a: 3410, 4070),(a: 3460, 4150),(a: 3470, 4240),(a: 3540, 4300),(a: 3670, 4290),(a: 3750, 4270),(a: 3830, 4240),(a: 3910, 4220),(a: 3990, 4210)) ($play:"sex loop","jarkrond")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.16,"peakTo",0.16,"baseFrom",0.02,"baseTo",0.02,"intervalFrom",1100,"intervalTo",1100,"attackMs",25,"sustainMs",20,"releaseMs",40,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.02,"intervalJitter",0.04,"depthJitter",0.02))($play:"song","goblin ending")($play:"ambience","desert horse")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")Three days out from the hut and the desert has become the world. Dunes like the spines of sleeping gods, copper and gold in the late light, their crests sharp as blades where the wind has sculpted them. The sky is the colour of a bruise forgiven, deep violet bleeding into ochre, bleeding into that trembling green that exists only at the hinge between day and night. Somewhere behind us, the dead olive tree has long since vanished into the shimmer. Ahead, the sands stretch toward a horizon that never arrives. Jarkrond's stride is steady. Four-beat. The easy amble of an ash-runner covering ground without hurry, each hoof placed with the precision of a creature that has been navigating this wasteland since before humans built their first wall. His muscles roll beneath his hide in waves I feel through my whole body, his warmth against my spine, the rhythm of him rocking me the way a ship rocks in a gentle harbour. *Thwp.* A sound. Soft. Meaty. Timed to each stride. *Thwp. Thwp. Thwp.* The armor holds me steady. Metal against skin, warmed by hours of contact, gripping where it needs to grip. The sands unscroll beneath me in an endless parchment of amber, close enough that I can see individual grains tumbling in the displacement of air. *Thwp.* Each impact sends a small, bright flare through my pelvis. I've stopped flinching. Stopped clenching against it. The flares just *happen* now, tiny detonations in the nerve-cluster behind my pubic bone that bloom and fade and bloom again with the regularity of breathing. *Thwp. Thwp.* Metal catches the light below me. Two glints, swinging in unison, describing small arcs that widen and narrow with each of his strides. They pull with a weight that's become familiar: a gentle, constant tug at two points on my chest that I no longer think of as pain. *Thwp.* A bead of something warm lands on the inside of my thigh. Rolls an inch. Stops. My hair does not stream behind me in the wind. It hangs straight down, brushing sand. *Thwp. Thwp. Thwp.* I am not riding Jarkrond. I am strapped beneath him. My back presses flat against the warm drum of his belly, feeling each breath expand and contract against my shoulder blades. My legs are folded: shins bound tight to thighs by bands of living scale-mail that Snib commanded into this shape three days ago, black metal coiling like serpents around my joints, holding my knees bent and spread wide on either side of his barrel. My arms are drawn up beside my head, wrists locked in gauntlets of the same dark scale that anchor to the chest-straps crossing his underside. The binding beneath my breasts is a band of interlocking metal that cinches just below where flesh meets ribcage, supporting my suspended weight while leaving everything below it to hang. And hang they do. My tits dangle toward the desert floor, pendulous, enormous, naked, catching the amber light like two pale moons reflected in a dark well. The iron rings through my nipples, Elara's parting gift, pressed through the flesh with her herbalist's steady hands while I bit down on a leather strap, her eyes wet, her voice murmuring *hold still love, almost done*, are heavy, two finger-widths of cold-forged metal that sway and *clink* with every stride, pulling my nipples into long, dark-pink stalks. The weight of them adds a constant, dragging ache that has become indistinguishable from pleasure. Between my spread thighs, his cock hangs. It dangles in front of my exposed pussy, not inside, not yet, just *there*, in the channel between my legs, and with each four-beat stride the blunt head swings backward to connect with my bare cunt-lips. *Thwp.* The weight of two pounds of stallion meat kissing my sex with the back of its crown, parting the outer lips just enough to touch the slick inner flesh before the next stride swings it forward again. Each contact lasts a quarter-second. Each one sends that bright flare through my pelvis. Each one leaves a fresh smear of his constant drool mixed with the cream my body produces as steadily as his cock produces its own. *Thwp. Thwp. Thwp.* I've cum eleven times since we left camp this morning. Small orgasms. My pussy clenches on each *thwp* and releases and clenches again and the orgasms just *seep* through me, warm and low, dissolving whatever's left of the partition between my thinking mind and the animal underneath. Dried cum crusts my inner thighs. From the mount before dawn: quick, efficient, the bindings adjusting to angle my hips as he stiffened, letting him slide in without breaking stride. He fucked me while he walked the first dune. Came inside me at the crest. The armor sealed me shut afterward, holding his load in, and I felt it *slosh* with each step until it cooled and thickened and became another layer of the crust that coats me now. The bindings will adjust again when he's ready. I'll feel him stiffen against my thigh, that telltale *throb*, and the scale-mail will shift, tilting my pelvis, spreading me wider, presenting me at the angle his cock remembers. He won't slow down. Won't pause. He will thrust and walk and thrust and walk, his hooves carrying us both across the sands while his cock carries him into me. All he has to do is get hard. All I have to do is hang here. The ancient head rises from the dunes ahead of us like a drowned man surfacing. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/game over pre.jpg","The ancient head rises from the dunes ahead of us like a drowned man surfacing.")A K'Tarran relic: that colossal stone head tipped on its side, half-swallowed by sand, its empty eye-sockets staring at the violet sky with the blank patience of something that stopped caring ten thousand years before I was born. The gaping mouth is dark as a wound. Wind moves through it and produces a sound like low singing. Aldric would have dismounted. Drawn Whisperwind. Approached with reverence and caution, and a hero does not pass such places without prayer. I hang beneath my stallion and watch the head scroll past at eye-level, my eyes and its eyes at the same height, three feet above the sand, and I feel nothing but the next *thwp*. I remember the Old Valarian lullaby, carved deep in my mind: *Sleep, Maraan, in chambers deep,* *In shadows where no sunbeams seep,* *Caught in time's relentless hands,* *Lulled beneath the Shifting Sands-* *Thwp.* *Rest, Thul'nara, in vaults unseen,* *Where dreams dissolve and fates convene-* *Thwp. Thwp.* *Stay your wrath, your reign delayed,* *Beneath the desert's silent shade-* *Thwp.* My pussy clenches. Number twelve.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.24),(a:300,0.18),(a:600,0.22),(a:900,0.14),(a:1200,0.08),"resumeAfter",true))) *In halls where echoes come undone,* *Silent lie, Zor'ethun,* *In slumber deep and deathless trance,* *Beyond the dawn's first wary lance-* The ancient powers sleep. Sealed in their vaults. Preserved by prayers and distance and the mercy of sand. *Hearken, children, to this decree,* *Let ancients in their slumber be.* *Make no clamor, stir no sound,* *On sacred sea or hallowed ground.* Jarkrond's cock stiffens against my thigh. A fraction. A pulse of blood filling tissue. The shaft going from half-soft to *interested*, the head swelling enough that the next *thwp* lands heavier, parts my lips *wider*, touches something just inside my entrance that makes my bound legs *jerk* against the scale-mail. (pic:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/game over.jpg","Jarkrond's cock stiffens against my thigh.")The bindings sense it before I do. I feel the metal *shift*, scales sliding against scales with a sound like a snake uncoiling, my pelvis tilting three degrees, my knees spreading another inch, the angle of my cunt adjusting to meet what's coming with the mechanical precision of a drawbridge lowering for its lord. His cock swells again. *Thwp* becomes *thud*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.22,"peakTo",0.30,"baseFrom",0.04,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",1100,"intervalTo",1100,"attackMs",35,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",60,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.06,"depthJitter",0.04)) *Thud* becomes *press*. The collar sits cold against my throat. It will still kill me if Snib died. It holds my shape in this impossible body. It sealed every bargain that led me here. Jarkrond's cock finds my entrance. The head *nudges* in(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:500,0.40),(a:1000,0.44),(a:1500,0.48),(a:2000,0.52),(a:2500,0.56),(a:3000,0.60),(a:3500,0.58),(a:4000,0.60)))), just the crown, that familiar burning stretch, the *pop* of my body accepting what it was remade to accept. He doesn't thrust. Walks. Each stride drives him deeper by a fraction of an inch, his own gait doing the work, rocking his cock into me with the patient rhythm of the desert grinding stone to sand. The ancient head watches us pass with its empty eyes. Let the ancients sleep. *Thwp.* The sunset pours across the Shifting Sands like something spilled and never cleaned, and an ash-runner stallion walks into it carrying everything he owns.(set:$bad_end to (dm:"title","Horse-Bride"))(display:"unlock bad end")(gameover:"ch04/bad end/jarkrond/game over.jpg")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/1.png")Elara stares at me. Her lips are SWOLLEN. Puffy and wet and dark from working his girth. Her chin GLISTENS. Her eyes are huge. "What are you *doing*?" "I don't-I'm just-" I arrive at the fur pile on my knees. His cock is RIGHT THERE. Six inches from my face. The full grotesque monument of it, standing rigid from his warty lap: twelve inches of mottled green-purple meat mapped with veins thick as bootlaces, the foreskin bunched behind a head so swollen and dark it looks like a rotten fruit. It's COATED in my wife's spit. The whole shaft shines with it. And underneath the spit, that GREASE. That oily, yellowish sheath-film that goblin cocks produce constantly, that reeks of something between mushroom cellar and backed-up latrine and- My mouth waters. *No. NO. That's the pheromones. That's-* "HRUK! Look at them EYES!" Snib grabs my chin with one claw. Forces my gaze UP from his cock to his face. "Ye want a taste, cow-tits? After all them days of playin' HERO? Of pretendin' ye're too GOOD for gobbo-meat?" "I don't WANT-" "Yer cunt's tellin' a different story." His thumb swipes across my lower lip. Leaves a trail of something warm. "Been smellin' ye SOG yerself since ye got back from them swamp-fuckers." Elara's hand touches my shoulder. I flinch. "It's..." She swallows. Her voice is hoarse-*cock-hoarse*, my brain supplies, and I want to die. "It's not as bad as you think." "Don't PATRONIZE me, I was a war-" "Jus' lick it." Snib's asking. Not suggesting. My face is so close I can feel the HEAT radiating off his shaft. Like holding your palm near a forge-stone. Each vein pulses with its own rhythm, each throb pushing a fresh bead of that clear-yellow pre-slime from his gaping slit. The stuff oozes down his cockhead in slow trails, gathering in the groove beneath his frenulum in a little POOL of concentrated goblin stink. A pubic hair, coarse, black, curling, is stuck to the underside of his shaft, glued there by dried grease. This is what ruined my marriage. This *thing*. This fat, drooling, pheromone-drenched breeding-log that barely fits in a human woman's jaw. This cock that turned Elara from herbalist to "fire-cunt." That taught her to say "hubby" while cumming. That filled the space Aldric used to occupy, and then some. *Then a lot some.*(simple_option:"04 day9 lick","So you lick it.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:400,0.22),(a:800,0.34),(a:1200,0.42),(a:1600,0.46),(a:2000,0.42),(a:2400,0.36),(a:2800,0.28),(a:3200,0.20),(a:3600,0.12),(a:4000,0))))One flat-tongued stripe up the underside, from the root where his balls meet the shaft to just below the head. The TASTE explodes on my palate: salt and grease and fungal-RANK and underneath that, riding the chemical burn of pheromone, something my body reads as *CORRECT* so fast my cunt clenches hard enough to make my thighs shake. "HRRK! She DID it! The hero-cunt LICKED it!" "Oh my gods," Elara breathes. I lick it again, but slower. My tongue tracing the ridge of a vein, FOLLOWING it, mapping the topography of his shaft. The grease coats my tongue. The pubic hair snags against my lip and I don't stop, don't pull away, just work around it with a dedication that would shame a temple acolyte. "Move-" Elara says, and her hand pushes my hair back from my face so she can SEE. "Move to the right side. I'll take the left. We can-" She demonstrates. Her mouth opens against the left side of his shaft, lips sealing, and she SUCKS, pulling the flesh into her mouth and releasing with a wet *POP* that makes Snib's toes curl. (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/double bj.jpg") I mirror her on the right. And immediately thrack it up. My lips won't seal properly. He's too THICK, the girth pushing my jaw wider than it wants to go, and when I try to suck the way she did, I mostly DROOL. A rope of spit escapes the corner of my mouth and runs down his shaft to pool in his pubic hair. "No," Elara whispers across his cock. Our faces are inches apart. His shaft between us like a obscene partition. "Flatter tongue. Press harder. And breathe through your-" I press my tongue flat and DRAG up his length and his cock *KICKS*: an involuntary flex that slaps the head against my cheekbone and leaves a stamp of pre-cum. "HRRK-fuck-do THAT again-" Elara's mouth finds the other side. We're both licking now, parallel stripes up his shaft, our tongues working in tandem, and the SOUND fills the hut: *schlp-schlp-schlp* from her side, *shlrrp-shlrrp-shlrrp* from mine, less practiced, sloppier, leaving more mess. Our tongues meet over the ridge of his cockhead. The contact is strangely lovely. Her tongue, warm, wet, tasting of his grease, slides against mine across the taut skin of his glans, and for one disorienting heartbeat we're KISSING. A kiss mediated by goblin cockflesh, our salivas mixing in the groove of his frenulum. Her eyes find mine. Crystal blue. Wide. Something in them I haven't seen in days. "BOTH tongues on the tip," Snib grunts. "YEAH-right on the-HRRRK-" We converge on his cockhead. My lips from the right, hers from the left. The purple-dark dome of his glans is too big for either mouth alone, my jaw ACHES just trying to get my lips around the widest point, but TOGETHER, our mouths sealing against opposite sides of his head, our tongues working the slit from two angles-(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.30,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",1000,"forever",true)) "HRRRNNGH-that's me GIRLS-" His cum-slit is GAPING. I can see INTO it: the tiny vertical mouth weeping a steady stream of that yellowish slime that tastes like liquefied sin. My tongue crosses into the stream and the concentration is so INTENSE my eyes water. Beside me, Elara's tongue works the other edge of his slit, and our tips keep FINDING each other, brushing, crossing, sliding against one another in the mess of spit and pre-cum. "Use yer HANDS, cow-tits." His clawed fingers tangle in my black hair. His other hand is in Elara's copper. "Yer wife can handle the head. Get them pretty hero-fingers on me shaft."(simple_option:"04 day9 stroke","Stroke him.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/1.png")My hand wraps around him. My fingers don't close. They CAN'T close, the girth is impossible, like gripping a fence-post wrapped in oiled leather. But I pump. Sloppy. Inexperienced. The slick of spit and grease makes my grip slide and slip, and every other stroke I lose my hold entirely and have to re-grab. Elara's mouth seals around his cockhead. She takes him DEEP, three inches past her lips, cheeks hollowing with suction. Her eyes close. She HUMS. The vibration travels down his shaft and I FEEL it through my palm. "FASTER, cow-tits. Like ye're CHURNIN' BUTTER." My tits are bouncing with the motion: the heavy flesh launching forward and back with each arm-stroke, nipples pointing at the floor, the undersides slick with the sweat that always gathers there. My wrist aches. My shoulder burns. Elara pulls off to breathe. Her mouth trails a web of slime and saliva that connects her chin to his cock in half a dozen gleaming strands. "Your turn," she pants. "Take the head." "I can't-it won't FIT-" "Open WIDER. And tuck your teeth behind your lips." I open. Wider. My jaw POPS. His cockhead presses against my lower lip, fat and slippery and searingly HOT, and then it's pushing IN, the taste EXPLODING across my tongue, and it IS too big, my jaw is going to DISLOCATE, the ridge of his glans scraping against my hard palate as the sheer GIRTH forces my mouth into a perfect O- "HRRRRK-TIGHT-bet yer mouth's TIGHTER than yer cunt, hero-" His hips push. Another inch. My throat REBELS, *GLRK*, and I gag, eyes streaming, drool FLOODING around the seal of my lips and running down my chin in twin rivers. Elara's hand finds the back of my head. Steadying me. "Breathe through your nose," she murmurs. "When he twitches, swallow. It opens your throat." He twitches. I swallow. And his cockhead slides past the resistance and suddenly he's IN: in my throat, the bulge visible from the OUTSIDE, and the sound I make is- *GLRRRRRRK-* "HRRK! She's CHOKIN' on it! The great hero is CHOKIN' on three inches of GOBBO COCK!" Tears stream. Drool pours. My hands have fallen from his shaft to grip his warty thighs for balance and I can feel his little MUSCLES bunching. I pull off. *GAAAHHHH-* Gasping. GASPING. Strings of pre-cum and saliva connect my wrecked mouth to his glistening cock. My chin is a DISASTER, coated in a mixture of his grease and my drool that drips onto my tits. "That was-" I'm coughing. "-DISGUSTING-" "Was it?" Elara's thumb wipes my chin. She looks at what she's collected: a thick glob of goblin pre-cum mixed with my spit. She puts her thumb in her own mouth. Sucks it clean. Her eyebrows lift. *Was it, though?* "AGAIN." Snib's voice is THICK now. His balls have drawn up. I can see them CLENCHING in their wrinkled sack. "TOGETHER this time. Both mouths. On the head. NOW." We press in from both sides. My lips seal against the right hemisphere of his cockhead. Elara's seal against the left. Our mouths are TOUCHING: lip to lip around the circumference of his glans, our tongues working the slit from opposite directions, and the INTIMACY of it is so WRONG, so perfectly, devastatingly wrong. I'm kissing my wife through the medium of the cock that stole her- "Gonna BLOW-" His voice has gone piglet-high. "-gonna NUT in both me WIVES' MOUTHS-" His hand FISTS in my hair. His other fist in Elara's. He pushes our faces TOGETHER, mashing our lips against each other around his cockhead until there's no gap, no air, just the seal of four lips around his slit- "HRRRRRRRRRRRRNGH-TAKE IT-TAKE ME SEED-"(simple_option:"04 day9 he cums","He cums.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")*HOT.* Scalding hot. Thick as porridge and RANK: rancid-sweet with an ammonia burn that makes my sinuses ignite. It floods my mouth INSTANTLY. There's so MUCH, more than any human cock could produce, more than the Sandwalkers, more than- My mouth is FULL and he's still PUMPING- Cum BURSTS from the seal of our lips. There's nowhere for it to GO. Two mouths pressed together can't contain what his balls are producing, and it ERUPTS sideways, jetting from the corners of our mouths in thick yellowish ropes that splatter down our chins, our throats, dripping onto tits pressed together over his lap. Elara's hand finds mine. SQUEEZES. Her eyes say: *swallow.* I swallow. *GULP.* The texture going down is, gods, like warm GRUEL laced with iron filings, coating my throat in a film I'll taste for hours. My stomach REVOLTS and then the pheromones hit my bloodstream and my stomach says *more*. He's STILL cumming. His cock flexing between our sealed mouths, each pulse shoving another wad of that clotted goblin seed onto our combined tongues. Elara swallows, I hear her throat click, *gulp-gulp*, and then we're trading it, his cum sloshing between our pressed-open mouths like wine between two cups, her tongue pushing a thick glob onto mine, mine pushing it back, the taste of HER mixed with the taste of HIM until they're the same thing. "HRRRREEEEEK-" His final pulse. Weaker. A last gooey rope that sits on both our tongues simultaneously. His hands release our hair. We pull apart. A STRING of cum connects our lips, stretches four inches, five, catching the morning light, a glistening bridge of shared filth, before it snaps and drops onto my left tit with a warm *plat*. Elara's face is WRECKED. Cum on her chin, her cheeks, a glob in her eyebrow. Her lips are bruised-dark, swollen past recognition. Mine must look the same. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" Snib flops back on the furs, cock softening against his thigh. "Now kiss each other like good wifies. Snib wants a show." Elara looks at me. I look at her.(simple_option:"04 day9 kiss","Kiss her.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/3.png")Her tongue, still coated in his seed, extends and swipes the cum from my chin. Slow. Deliberate. Her lips follow, pressing against the mess, SUCKING the residue from my skin. The tenderness of it makes something crack behind my sternum. (change_stat:"elara",2)I reciprocate. My tongue finding the glob in her eyebrow, the streak on her cheekbone, the corner of her mouth where his load collected thickest. She tastes of him and herself and the bark-tea she drank before dawn. My lips find hers and we KISS, properly, fully, mouths opening, and the cum still pooled in our cheeks floods between us one final time before we both swallow. *Gulp.* *Gulp.* "Good GIRLS." Snib's voice is drowsy. Sated. "That's how a FAMILY does breakfast." We kneel there. Side by side. Cum cooling on our chins. Breathing hard. My hand is still gripping hers and neither of us lets go. Elara's thumb traces a circle on my knuckle. "You drool too much," she whispers. "We'll work on it." "Shut up," I whisper back. But I'm shaking. Not from horror.(simple_option:"04 day9 evening share","That evening...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/5.png")"Oi. Cow-tits." I'm rinsing our bowls at the well-pump when his voice finds me through the hide-flap. Sunset is bleeding out across the western dunes. Elara's already inside. I heard her settle onto the furs minutes ago, heard Snib's satisfied grunt as she took her place beside him. "Get that fat arse in here. Yer sleepin' with US tonight." My hands still on the bowl. Water drips between my fingers. "What's the catch?" I ask the well-pump. "HRUK! She's LEARNIN'! There IS a catch, hero-cunt. A small one. Tiny." I duck inside. The hut is dim: a single tallow candle Elara must have found somewhere, its flame painting everything in amber and shadow. Snib sits cross-legged on the furs, loincloth hiked to expose his softening cock across one warty thigh. Elara lies beside him in her nightgown, her copper hair fanned across his fur pile. She looks... comfortable. The thought makes something twist behind my ribs. "Here's what." Snib holds up one claw. "Ye both say a PRAYER before bed. Every night. Proper prayer. To STORAK." "Absolutely n-" "And ye RENOUNCE them useless dust-gods of yers. What're they called. The Efferminals." "*Ephemerals,*" Elara corrects quietly. "THEM. They ain't done SHITE for either of ye, have they?" The words land like arrows finding gaps in armour I no longer wear. "It's just words," Elara says. To me. Her hand extended toward the fur pile. "Come to bed." "It's NOT just-" "Elise." Her voice is steady. "It's *words*." *Eon remembers.* But what does he remember? A hero who no longer exists? An oath I can't keep? A body I'll never have again? *Flux turns the wheel.* Turned it so far it came off the axle. *Through Verge's door.* Into this. "What do we say?" My voice sounds like someone stepping off a cliff. "THAT'S the spirit!" Snib bounces on the furs. His cock flops with the motion. "Right, repeat after me. Both of ye. TOGETHER." Elara sits up. Takes my hand as I kneel on the edge of the furs. Our fingers lace. Her palm is damp. "Ready? Here goes." Snib clears his throat with a phlegmy *HRUK*. Closes his yellow eyes. Places both hands on his cock with the solemnity of a high priest touching a relic. "*Eon's a limp-dicked dusty old FART.*" Silence. *How does he know their names? Did the collar tell him?* "SAY IT." "Eon's a..." I can't. The god of oaths. The keeper of records. Every contract I ever signed, every vow I- Elara squeezes my hand. "*Eon's a limp-dicked dusty old fart.*" She said it. My WIFE said it. The woman who prayed at Eon's shrine every winter solstice, who kept a ledger of debts forgiven in his name- "*Eon's a limp-dicked dusty old fart,*" I whisper. "LOUDER." "Eon's a limp-dicked dusty old fart." "Good! Next: *Flux is a confused twat what can't pick a hole.*" Elara's voice, steadier now: "Flux is a confused twat what can't pick a hole." Mine, cracking: "Flux is a confused twat what can't... pick a hole." "AND: *Verge can shove his fancy door up his own arse, 'cause the only door what matters is a breed-hole.*" We say it. Together. The words tasting of copper and ash. Elara's grip on my hand has gone white-knuckled but her voice doesn't waver. "NOW the good bit." Snib's eyes open. Gleaming. "Say: *Thank Storak for Master Snib's fat cock. Thank Storak for our breed-holes. We are gobbo fuck-meat and our cunts belong to Snib and Storak forever.*" The candle gutters. Shadows lean in. We say it. Every. Word. And the collar goes *warm*: approving warmth that spreads from my throat through my chest into my belly. "Lovely." Snib pats the furs between himself and Elara. "Now get them massive arse-cheeks over here and LIE DOWN." I crawl onto the furs. The smell hits: his musk, her rosewater, the crusted residue of a hundred emissions soaked into leather that will never be clean. His warty body slots between us. His head reaches my collarbone. His feet don't touch Elara's calves. One clawed hand finds my left breast. Cups it. His other hand slides behind Elara's neck, pulling her closer until her face is buried against his warty shoulder. "Me wives," he murmurs. Already drowsy. The word shouldn't work. Shouldn't land. But the pheromones are thick as fog in this enclosed space, his body radiates heat like a clay oven, the furs are softer than the straw, and Elara's hand has found mine across his pot-belly. Our fingers lace over the drum-tight swell of his gut. Her wedding ring presses cold against my knuckle. "Elise?" she whispers across him. "Yeah." "The prayer. It's just-" "I know." "It doesn't mean we-" "I *know*." Snib's snoring begins. That rattling, wet percussion. His cock softens against my thigh, leaving a cooling trail of residual slime. His thumb twitches against my nipple in his sleep, an involuntary squeeze that sends a spark down into my belly. Elara's thumb traces a circle on the back of my hand. I close my eyes.($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","corruption theme") For the first time since the marsh, sleep doesn't feel like drowning. It feels like sinking into warm mud. Slow. Easy. The kind of surrender that doesn't require a decision, only the absence of fighting.(simple_option:"04 day10 assist","Dawn. Day 10.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")Morning prayer first. On our knees by the fur pile. Naked. The words come easier today and I hate that they do. "*Thank Storak for Master Snib's fat cock. Thank Storak for our breed-holes.*" Our voices in unison. Elara's soprano braiding with mine. Snib sits before us on the furs, legs spread, cock rising to greet the devotion like a sundial greeting dawn. "*We are gobbo fuck-meat and our cunts belong to Snib and Storak forever.*" Snib belches. Breakfast. Double blowjob. The routine already forming: Elara takes first shift while I cook porridge, then we swap. My technique is still sloppy. She doesn't comment on the drool. Then he says it. "Right." Scratching his belly. Looking at Elara the way a farmer looks at a field he's about to plough. "On yer back, fire-cunt. Time for a PROPER mornin' breedin'." Elara sets down her bowl. Stands. Pulls the nightgown over her head in one motion and lies down on the furs with her legs parted, her face caught between reluctance and eagerness: something *practiced*, the way a smith's face looks when he picks up the hammer. Professional. Snib waddles between her thighs. His cock bobs with each step, heavy and dark, still shiny from the morning's mouth-work. The head is *flared*: that angry purple dome spreading wider as blood fills it, the slit already weeping its yellow drool onto her inner thigh. "And YOU-" He points at me. "-make yerself USEFUL. Get them fat udders over here and put yer mouth on her tits. She likes it when ye-"(simple_option:"04 know what she likes","'I KNOW what she likes.'")($play:"song","corruption theme")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",1200,"forever",true))The words come out harder than I intend. Six years of marriage in three syllables. *I* learned where she shivers, where she melts, where she arches off the bed and gasps my name. Before this green piece of shit ever touched her. I kneel beside them. My tits hang heavily as I lean over Elara's body: the left one resting on her ribcage, the right one dangling, swaying with each breath. Her freckled skin is warm beneath the pale weight of my breast-flesh. Her eyes find mine. Blue into green. Something in them asking permission. I lower my mouth to her nipple. The taste is different than I remember. Her skin carries a base-note of goblin musk now, seeped into her pores from weeks of proximity. But underneath, underneath the corruption, underneath the pheromone residue and the traces of his cum that no amount of washing fully removes, she tastes of *Elara*. Salt and rosemary and the sweetness of the hollow between her breasts where she used to dab honeysuckle oil on festival mornings in Eboncrest. I suck. Gently at first. Her nipple stiffens against my tongue and she gasps: that intake of breath I know better than my own name- "HNNNGH-" That gasp isn't from me. Snib has pushed inside her.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.32),(a:200,0.20),(a:500,0.14),(a:800,0.10),"resumeAfter",true))) (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elara fucked.jpg","Snib has pushed inside her.")($play:"sex loop","elara fuck 1") The JOLT travels through her body into mine: his cockhead breaching her entrance, her abdomen going rigid against my cheek, her ribcage expanding with a breath she can't catch. Her hand flies to the back of my head. Fingers tangling in my black hair. *Gripping.* "Haaahh-oh-oh *thrack*-" "HRRK-so TIGHT, fire-cunt, still GRIPPIN' like-" *SCHLAP.* The first thrust drives her body upward on the furs. My mouth loses her nipple, finds it again. Her breast is bouncing now, a rhythmic jiggle that corresponds exactly to the pace of his hips. *SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",500,"forever",true)) I suck harder. My tongue working the stiffened peak in circles, the way she likes, the way she *always* liked, the way I learned in our first year of marriage when everything was discovery and wonder and her body was a country I was mapping with my mouth. Except the cartographer is a woman now. And the territory has been annexed. "YES-" Her voice has gone high and fractured. Her hand YANKS my hair, pulling my face harder against her breast. "-just like-don't STOP-*nnnh*-" I switch to the other nipple. Cross her sternum with a trail of open-mouthed kisses that leave wet marks on her freckled skin. This nipple tastes slightly different. She's always been asymmetric, the left more sensitive than the right. I tongue it lightly and she BUCKS. "HRRK-she's CLAMPIN' when ye do that!" Snib's voice, strained. "Keep-HNNNGH-keep suckin', cow-tits, she goes MENTAL-" The sounds fill the hut. His grunting, piglet-high, rhythmic. Her moaning, broken syllables that might be his name or mine or just the alphabet of women being *fucked*. The wet SCHLAP-SCHLAP of his pelvis. The creak of furs. My own breathing, harsh through my nose as my mouth works her chest. And underneath it all, felt rather than heard: the PULSE of his cock inside her. Each thrust transmitted through her belly against my cheek, a rhythm I learn without meaning to. In-out, in-out, the bulge of his cockhead pressing her abdominal wall outward on the deepest strokes, visible as a shifting beneath her skin. He's *right there*. Inside my wife. Inches from my face. The only thing between his cock and my tongue is the thin wall of her body. I think of the baby that we tried for. Gentle lovemaking, careful timing, Elara's herbalist knowledge deployed in service of conception. Moon-charts and fertility teas and whispered prayers to Flux. And now THIS: this warty, three-foot-eight pheromone factory SLAMMING into her with the finesse of a battering ram, his balls slapping her ass in meaty *THWACK-THWACK-THWACKS*, and the goblin sperm are going to succeed where Aldric's failed because that's what they're *built* to do. Colonize. "HARDER-" Elara screams. "HARDER, *hubby*-FUCK me HARDER-" My mouth is still on her nipple. My tears are running down her breast. Salt mixing with sweat mixing with the faint residue of his pre-cum that has already marked every inch of her skin. I feel her body begin to *change* beneath me. The tremor. The particular tightening of her abdominal muscles. The way her breathing fragments into sharp, desperate sips of air. She's close. I suck HARD. Cheeks hollowing. Drawing her nipple deep into my mouth and PRESSING my tongue against it with everything I have: all the love, all the loss, all the *remembering* that Eon abandoned us to- "HHHHNNNNAAAAHHHH-*ELISE*-I'M-I'M CUMMING-"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",8,"peakFrom",0.38,"peakTo",0.12,"gapFrom",450,"gapTo",750,"attackMs",48,"holdMs",90,"releaseMs",120,"gapIntensity",0.06,"peakCurve","swell","buildMs",0,"aftershocks",2,"aftershockIntensity",0.08,"aftershockGap",1100)) Her body SEIZES. Her pussy must CLAMP because Snib SQUEALS. His rhythm goes haywire, his thrusts becoming shallow, frantic, and I feel it through her belly: feel the PULSE-PULSE-PULSE of his cock flexing, feel the *heat* spreading through her abdomen as he empties- "HRRRRRRNNGH-TAKE IT-TAKE SNIB'S BABIES-" I feel each one. Through the wall of her body. Against my cheek. Her womb filling with his seed while my mouth claims the only part of her he can't reach: the nipple drawn tight between my lips, the flesh of her breast, the heartbeat beneath it that still, somehow, says *Elise*. She doesn't scream his name at the end. She screams mine. Her hand in my hair, pulling me UP from her chest to her mouth, and we kiss while his cock still twitches inside her. I taste salt and her spit and the ghost of this morning's cum-swap, and Snib is panting between her thighs, his warty hands on her hips, his seed pumping into a womb that's already reshaping itself around the idea of goblin spawn. "Thrack," Snib wheezes. "That was good." He pulls out. *SCHLORRRRP.* And the sound that follows, the wet, thick, *GLORPING* sound of his cum beginning to seep from her well-fucked cunt, fills the hut like a dinner bell.(simple_option:"04 day10 clean","He's looking at you.")($play:"song","corruption theme")

(pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elara creampied.jpg","'There's yer MEAL, cow-tits.'") ($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")"Well?" Snib wipes his softening cock on Elara's inner thigh. Casual. Like cleaning a blade on grass. "There's yer MEAL, cow-tits." I'm still kneeling beside them. My lips are swollen from an hour of nipple-work. Between my own legs, I'm *drenched*. I haven't touched myself. The pheromones and the sounds and the feeling of her cumming against my cheek have turned my cunt into a faucet that won't shut off. Elara lies there. Chest heaving. Freckles flushed pink from sternum to hairline. Her legs are still spread from where Snib was between them, and from the swollen, darkened gape of her pussy, his seed is *oozing*. Thick as custard. Yellowish-white with that particular goblin opacity, not the translucent watery stuff human men produce but this dense, *clotted* substance that has visible TEXTURE. It emerges from her in a slow, continuous rope that stretches toward the furs below, getting thinner and thinner without breaking. The smell reaches me before the sight fully registers. Rancid-sweet. Mushroom and iron and that deep, glandular MUSK. "Elise." Elara's voice is dreamy. Post-orgasmic. Wrecked. Her hand reaches for me, misses, finds my wrist, pulls weakly. "Come here." I look at her pussy. At the cum pooling in her entrance. At the thick rope still descending. I already ate his cum from her mouth. We kissed through it. Shared it. Further south. "Please." She pulls again. Her hips shift on the furs. *Presenting*. The motion squeezes more seed from her, a thick GLORP that breaks the rope and PLATS onto the leather beneath her ass. "I need-I can't-it feels so-" "HRUK!" Snib, from the side, already half-asleep. "A hundred gold says ye lick her CLEAN, cow-tits. Every thrakkin' drop."(simple_option:"04 day10 lick","You don't really care about the gold anymore.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/2.png")I settle between her spread thighs. My massive tits hang forward, the weight of them pulling my shoulders down, my nipples nearly brushing the cum-soaked furs. Elara's pussy fills my vision. Swollen lips, flushed nearly purple from the pounding. The dark pink interior, twitching and contracting. His seed EVERYWHERE: coating her labia, pooling in the crease of her thigh, a thick glob balanced on her clit like something placed there deliberately. I lower my mouth. First contact: my tongue against her outer lip. The taste is *layered*: the top note is ALL Snib, that rancid-sweet goblin funk, dense and pheromone-loaded, and my sinuses FLARE open. Beneath it: Elara. Her arousal. The familiar musk I used to wake to on Sunday mornings in Eboncrest when the sheets smelled of her and the light came through the curtains just so. I lick deeper. "*Haaaaaahh-*" Her hips LIFT off the furs, pressing her cunt against my mouth. My tongue slides between her lips and scoops-a thick, warm glob of his seed that sits on my tongue like a communion wafer made of everything I used to hate. I swallow. *Gulp.* It goes down heavy. Warm. Coating my throat in a film that I'll taste for hours. My stomach receives it with a *clench*: not rejection anymore, the quiet acknowledgment of a body that's been rewired. More. There's so much MORE. He came enough to fill a cup and it's all pooled in the canal of her pussy, warming and thinning as her body heat works on it. I press my tongue inside her and the sensation is- "OH-oh *Elise*-oh gods-" (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/cumlick.jpg")($play:"sex loop","cum makeout")-her walls closing around my tongue. *Gripping*. The same walls that milked his cock are now milking my tongue, and I can feel the residual contractions of her orgasm still rippling through the muscle, and she's so WET: his cum and her own cream, rivers of it mixing into this thick, pearlescent BATTER that coats my chin, my cheeks, my nose as I press deeper- "Yes-RIGHT there-oh *thrack* lick it OUT-" Her hands find my hair. Both hands. PULLING me into her cunt like she wants to feed me her entirety. My tongue works: scooping, swirling, finding the dense pockets of seed nested against her cervix and DRAGGING them out. Each mouthful: *swallow*. Each swallow: more room for my tongue to explore. Her clit. Swollen, throbbing, a glob of cum perched on it like a crown jewel. I seal my mouth over the whole mess and SUCK. "AIIIEEE-" Her thighs CLAMP around my head. Her heels drum against my back. The sound she makes is not the sound she made for Snib: it's higher, sharper, more DESPERATE, the sound of a woman receiving pleasure from someone who knows her body like a mother tongue. I circle her clit with my tongue while my chin presses against her entrance, catching the cum that still seeps out, letting it run down my jaw. The taste has gone past disgusting into something my body simply *processes*: fuel, sustenance, the chemical cocktail that keeps the collar happy and the pheromone-engine running. "Cumming-I'm CUMMING-Elise-ELISE-" Her pussy CONVULSES around my tongue. I feel the muscular spasm push a final thick GLOB of Snib's seed directly onto my tongue, expelled from her cervix by the strength of her orgasm, and I swallow it while she screams my name. Not his. *Mine.* Her thighs shake against my ears. Her hands release my hair. Her body collapses back onto the furs in the boneless sprawl of a woman who has been thoroughly, comprehensively *finished*. (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/cumswap.jpg") I rise from between her legs. My face is a MESS: chin to forehead glazed with the mingled fluids of her arousal and his emission, my lips swollen, my eyes streaming from the pheromone concentration. From the side of the furs, Snib watches through half-lidded eyes. His spent cock lies across his thigh, giving a single, lazy twitch at the sight of my cum-painted face. (change_stat:"gold",100)"Now THAT," he says, "is a family what WORKS together." Elara reaches for me. Pulls me down beside her. Kisses the mess off my mouth. Slow. Tender. Her tongue finding each streak of his seed on my face and sharing it between our lips until we're both clean and both filthy and the taste of him is so embedded in both our mouths that kissing each other and kissing his cock have become the same act. "Thank you," she whispers against my lips. "Don't." My voice is ruined. "Don't thank me." The worst part, the very worst, the part that Aldric would have driven Whisperwind through his own chest to prevent, is that lying here, in this puddle of cum and sweat, my face buried in my wife's hair, her taste and his taste and our taste all mingled into one, I feel something... I feel *closer* to her than ever before.(simple_option:"04 day11 her turn","The next day...")

($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")Morning prayer. On our knees. His cock between us like a crooked altar-candle. "*Thank Storak for Master Snib's fat cock. Thank Storak for our breed-holes. We are gobbo fuck-meat and our cunts belong to Snib and Storak forever.*" The words don't scrape anymore. They come out. Like breathing. "Right then." Snib wipes his cock on Elara's cheek, she turns into it, automatic, plants a kiss on the retreating head, and waddles to his fur pile. "Cow-tits. Arse UP. On the furs. NOW." My stomach drops through the floor of the world. "It's TIME," Elara says beside me. Her sapphire eyes are bright in the morning firelight and her hand finds the small of my back and *pushes*. "Go on. I'll be right there." I crawl to the furs on hands and knees because my legs won't carry me upright. My tits drag the packed earth, *shhlk-shhlk*, the nipples catching on every imperfection, the chain between my scale-cups jingling its idiot song. When I reach the furs I position myself the way he likes Elara: face down, spine arched, ass UP. The fur is still warm from where we slept. Still *damp* from last night's session. "HRUK. Look at THIS." Snib's voice behind me. Appraising. I feel his yellow gaze on my upturned ass the way you feel the sun on bare skin: a physical pressure. "Fire-cunt's got them pretty FRECKLES, yeah? Nice and compact. Like a ripe peach." His hand lands on my right cheek. *Resting*. His palm barely covers a quarter of the surface area. The size differential is *obscene*: his entire warty hand lost in the pale expanse of my ass like a toad squatting on a snowfield. "But THIS arse..." He *squeezes*. His claws dimple the flesh. "This arse is a whole other KINGDOM. Could set up CAMP on this arse. Build a FORTRESS." Elara settles beside me on the furs. Naked. Cross-legged. Close enough that I can feel her body heat against my flank. "Spread her," Snib says. Elara's hands find my asscheeks. Her herbalist's fingers, precise, clinical, *warm*, grip the flesh and PULL. Separating me. Opening me. I feel the cool air of the hut touch places that clench shut on instinct. "Gods, Elise." Her breath catches. She's LOOKING. Straight at my exposed pussy from inches away. "You're soaked. You're absolutely *dripping*." I can feel it: the slick heat running down my inner thigh, gathering at the crease where leg meets cunt. "Hold her OPEN," Snib commands. "Want a proper LOOK at me investment." Elara's thumbs find my pussy lips. *Part* them. The wet sound of me opening, *schlck*, fills the silence. "Pink as a rosebud," Snib observes. He's RIGHT THERE. I can feel his breath on my exposed flesh, hot and humid and reeking of breakfast porridge. "Ye'd never know twenty bone-fuckers been through here. Collar's HEALIN' magic, that is. Tightened her right back up fer Snib." (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/breach.jpg","His cockhead touches me.") His cockhead touches me.(simple_option:"04 day11 breach","And the world narrows to a point.")($play:"sex loop",0)

($play:"sex loop","insert rough")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")*Heat.* That's the first thing. His cockhead runs hotter than any human part of any human body I ever knew as Aldric. It's like someone has pressed a stone pulled from a fire-ring against the most sensitive flesh I own. The temperature differential between the cool hut air on my spread pussy and the *furnace* of his glans makes my nerve endings SHRIEK. "Hhhhh-" "Shhhh." Elara's palm on my lower back. Pressing down. Arching my spine. Changing the angle by degrees. "Tilt your hips. Down and-there. *There.*" He pushes. (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/penetration.jpg") *Inevitable*. The blunt dome of his cockhead against my entrance, applying pressure with the patience of a siege engine cranked forward. My pussy lips stretch around his girth. I can feel them *peeling* apart, millimetre by millimetre, the flesh going taut as drumskin, and the FULLNESS- I have been fucked before. The Sandwalkers broke this body open and used it until it forgot what empty meant. But that was twenty-four men in lotus-fog, one after another, each one a cock in a crowd. This is DIFFERENT. This is *one* cock. And I know whose it is. And Elara is *holding me open for it*. His ridge catches at my entrance. The widest point of his flared head straining against the ring of muscle that my body *refuses* to relax despite the flood of cunt-syrup I'm producing. "Push BACK," Elara whispers. Her thumbs pull my lips wider. "Bear down like you're-trust me. *Push.*" I push. *POP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.78),(a:80,0.58),(a:180,0.65),(a:300,0.52),(a:450,0.46),(a:600,0.42),(a:800,0.38),(a:1000,0.36)))) His cockhead breaches me and my entire body goes rigid. The sensation is-it's-the widest part of his flare slipping past my entrance and my pussy SEALING around his shaft behind it, gripping the thinner part below the head, and the sudden *compression* of my walls around something so HOT and so ALIVE sends a bolt of lightning from my cunt to the base of my skull. "HNNNGH-" "HRRK! She TOOK it!" Snib's voice is strained. His claws find my hips. "Tight as a drum, cow-tits-TIGHTER than the missus-" "Oh, *shut up.*" Elara rolls her eyes. But her hand is between her own legs now. I can hear the wet sound of her fingers. He pushes deeper. Each inch is a new country being conquered. I can feel his veins, THICK veins, standing out from the shaft like the roots of a tree, dragging against my walls as he advances. The ridges of his foreskin bunching and smoothing behind his head. The slight *curve* of his shaft: upward, hooking against my front wall, pressing something inside me that makes colours PULSE behind my closed eyes. Four inches. Five. Six.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:1500,0.46),(a:3000,0.52),(a:4500,0.58),(a:6000,0.64),(a:7500,0.70),(a:9000,0.76),(a:10500,0.80),(a:12000,0.84)))) "Haaahh-haahhh-too much-it's too-" The angle shifts as his cockhead finds the turn of my canal and PRESSES and I feel my cervix, the entrance to a womb that Aldric never had, *kissed* by the blunt nose of his cock. A deep, aching pressure that radiates through my pelvis. Nine. Ten. His wiry pubic hair scrubs against my outer lips. Coarse. FILTHY. I can feel individual strands catching in the slick of my arousal, curling against flesh that's never known anything rougher than Elara's smooth thighs. The scratchy intimacy of *goblin pubes against my cunt* makes my eyes sting. Eleven inches. His balls connect with my clit. *THWAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.50),(a:100,0.35),(a:250,0.40),(a:400,0.28),(a:600,0.20),(a:800,0.12),(a:1000,0),"resumeAfter",true))) Heavy. Hot. I can feel them PULSE: each one the size of my fist, the wrinkled sack drawn tight with the weight of what they're carrying. They press against my swollen clit with a pressure that makes my thighs try to close. Twelve. He's BURIED. Every inch of his cock is inside me. I can feel him in deep places, *architectural* places, the inner geography of a body that was built to hold exactly this. His cockhead rests against my cervix like a hand tapping against a door. "There," Elara breathes. She's watching the place where we're joined, her face inches from where his nasty green pelvis meets my pale ass. "Gods, Elise. You took all of it." "HRRK." Snib *holds*. Letting me feel every throbbing inch. "Now ye know what yer WIFE'S been screamin' about." His cock PULSES inside me. One thick throb that makes my walls clench in response. I make a sound that is not a word.(simple_option:"04 day11 fucked","He starts to move.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/fucked.jpg","Every inch of his cock is inside me.")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 1")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.58,"peakTo",0.72,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",340,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",45,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",16,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.10)) "Ohhhhh *fuck*-" "HRUK. That's ONE." The second is faster. The third faster still. And by the fifth his hips have found a rhythm that makes the furs bunch beneath my knees and my tits swing forward in heavy arcs that *SLAP* together at the apex of each pendulum before falling back to slap against my ribs. *SCHLAP-jiggle-SCHLAP-jiggle-SCHLAP-* "Look at them UDDERS go!" His claws dig into my hips. He's PULLING me onto him now, using my own bodyweight, and the *sound*- *GLRCH-GLRCH-GLRCH-* *SMACK.* His hand across my right asscheek. The sound RINGS off the mud-brick walls. The flesh RIPPLES outward from the impact: a shockwave that takes a full second to reach the edge of my ass and bounce back. "That's fer GORTHAK!" *SMACK.* Left cheek.(playwhenread:"spank 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:60,0.48),(a:160,0.35),(a:320,0.40),(a:480,0.26),(a:640,0.30),(a:800,0.16),(a:960,0.08),(a:1150,0),"resumeAfter",true))) "That's fer SNAGGLE!" *SMACK.* Right again, overlapping the first print.(playwhenread:"spank 2") "That's fer EVERY gobbo what DIED on yer SWORD, hero-cunt!"(playwhenread:"spank 2",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.75),(a:60,0.50),(a:160,0.38),(a:320,0.42),(a:480,0.28),(a:640,0.32),(a:800,0.18),(a:960,0.10),(a:1150,0),"resumeAfter",true))) Each slap drives him DEEPER. Each one makes my pussy CLENCH around him in involuntary spasm. Each clench makes him GROAN and thrust HARDER. "*Hnngh-ah-AH-*" "She's LOVING it." Elara. Right beside us. "Can feel her cunt SUCKIN' at me like she's tryin' to swallow me whole-" He shifts angle. Grabs my hair with one hand, WRAPS the black strands around his fist, and YANKS my head up. My spine bows. My tits launch forward, swinging so violently the left one *claps* against my bicep. "WHO OWNS THIS CUNT?" "You-*hnngh*-you do-" "LOUDER." "YOU DO-MASTER SNIB OWNS THIS-*AHHH*-" "And WHO killed all them gobbos?" "I-I did-Aldric-*fuck*-" "And WHO'S gettin' BRED by a gobbo now?" "*ME-*" "SAY. YER. NAME." "ELISE-I'm Elise-*HNNNNNGH*-" His cock is HAMMERING me. The rhythm has gone past anything resembling technique into pure *rut*: animal-fast, brutal, his tiny body generating impossible force through sheer pelvic fury. My ass is a DRUM. Each impact sends ripples cascading through both cheeks that meet in the middle and CLAP. *CLAP-GLRCH-CLAP-GLRCH-CLAP-GLRCH-*(playwhenread:"elara fingering") (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elara fingering.jpg","right","She's close too.")"Oh gods-oh *gods*-" Elara's voice has gone high. Close too. Watching her husband get fucked by the creature she calls hubby while she frigs herself raw. "Elise-your FACE right now-you look so-" "Don't-*AH*-don't TELL me what I-*HNNNGH*-" Something is building. FAST. A pressure behind my pubic bone that swells with each thrust like a waterskin being filled past capacity. My thighs are SHAKING. My toes are curling in the furs. My cunt has gone from gripping to CLENCHING to something that feels like it's trying to *crush* his cock. "Cum for him," Elara whispers. She's leaning close. Her lips brush my ear. Her breath tastes of this morning's cum-swap. "Let go. I'm right here." "I can't-I *won't*-" "You WILL." Her hand closes on my hanging tit. Thumb and finger closing on my nipple in a pinch that sends fire straight to my clit. "You will because this body was *made* for it. And because-" She pinches HARDER. "-it's okay." His cock hits my cervix on the deepest stroke and my world explodes. (simple_option:"04 day11 lock","Cum.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",14,"peakFrom",0.96,"peakTo",0.16,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",750,"attackMs",44,"holdMs",100,"releaseMs",125,"gapIntensity",0.04,"peakCurve","swell","buildMs",0,"aftershocks",5,"aftershockIntensity",0.14,"aftershockGap",1200))(vid:"img/ch02/bad end/early fuck/orgasm.mp4")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2") "CUMMING-I'm-*HYYYYAAAAHHHH*-" My pussy has a seizure around him. Every muscle from my pelvic floor to my diaphragm firing at once, my walls clamping down on his shaft with a force that makes him SQUEAL, and my cervix- My cervix OPENS. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","left","I can feel it flexing in there, that mushroom head flaring wider, LOCKING itself in place.")I feel it happen. A *dilation*. The tight ring of muscle that guards my womb going slack in response to some chemical signal his cock has been pumping into me since the first stroke: pheromones absorbed through the vaginal wall, bypassing every conscious objection, speaking directly to the architecture of my reproductive system in a language it was apparently *born* understanding. His cockhead pushes through.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.90),(a:80,0.95),(a:200,0.88),(a:400,0.78),(a:700,0.70),(a:1000,0.64),(a:1400,0.60),(a:1800,0.58)))) "Oh-OH-what's-what is he-" "The lock." Elara's voice. Calm. *Knowing.* "He's locking inside you. Don't fight it." "HRRRRK-THERE we go-" Snib HILTS himself and his cockhead is THROUGH my cervix and INTO my womb and the sensation is nothing I have words for: a pressure so DEEP it registers as *presence*. *Him.* Inside me. Occupying a space that should be empty. My womb stretched around his flared head like a glove around a fist. Then the head begins to *spread*. "HNNNNAAHH-IT'S-IT'S GETTING-" "Shhh. I know." Elara's hand on my belly now. Pressing from the outside. "He's fucking your womb. Just breathe." I can feel the tissue inflating: the mushroom-cap of his cockhead flattening and WIDENING until it's pressed against my uterine walls on all sides, sealing itself in, creating a chamber that nothing can escape from. Snib's voice is a croak. His body has gone rigid behind me, every muscle in his tiny frame bunched. His balls are TIGHT against his body, drawn up hard, and I can feel them pulsing against my perineum. "Tell her what comes next." Elara's hand finds mine. Laces our fingers together. "He's going to fill you now," she says softly. "All of it. Straight into your womb. You're going to feel very warm, and very full, and it's going to take a while because he has..." She glances at Snib. Back to me. "...a *lot*." His cock starts to PUMP.(simple_option:"04 day11 flood","Receive.")

($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.58),(a:2000,0.64),(a:4000,0.70),(a:6000,0.74),(a:8000,0.78),(a:10000,0.80),(a:12000,0.78),(a:14000,0.74),(a:16000,0.68),(a:18000,0.60),(a:20000,0.52),(a:22000,0.44),(a:24000,0.36),(a:26000,0.28),(a:28000,0.20),(a:30000,0.12),(a:32000,0))))The first pulse hits my womb like someone pouring warm porridge directly into my organs. Continuous, pressurized, his urethra opening directly against the fundus of my womb and EMPTYING with the relentless force of a water-pump. I feel the heat of it SPREADING: pooling against the back wall of my uterus, sluicing into the corners, filling the sealed chamber his locked glans has created. "Ohhhhh *gods*-" "HRRRRK-GET PREGNANT, COW-TITS-" His body JERKS against my ass in rhythmic spasms, each one accompanied by a fresh SURGE of pressure inside me. I can't see what's happening but I can FEEL it: the weight increasing. The warmth deepening. My womb becoming a reservoir for something thick and ALIVE. "It's so *warm*-" I'm panting. Drool on the furs. My tits mashed beneath me from where I've collapsed onto my elbows. "There's so *much*-" "I know, love." Elara's thumb on my knuckle. Her other hand still on my belly. Pressing gently. "You're doing so well." Each pulse is accompanied by a visible full-body convulsion: his warty toes curling, his scrawny legs shaking, his claws leaving scratches on my hips that I'll wear for days. And each volley deposits MORE: a fresh flood of custard-thick goblin seed pumped directly past my cervix into a space that's rapidly running out of room. "The BIG one-HRRRRRRREEEEEEEK-" Something KICKS inside me. A volume that makes the previous pulses feel like nothing, a GUSH of concentrated breeding-sludge that hits the walls of my sealed womb with enough pressure to make me feel it in my *spine*. "*AHHHHH*-" "Almost done," Elara murmurs. She's pressed her cheek against my back. Feeling his pulses through my body. "The last ones are-" "-HNNGH-" "-thicker." The consistency changing. Dense packets of something that *moves* against my inner walls with its own wriggling urgency. The sensation makes my eyes cross. "Hrrk-" His voice has gone weak. Ruined. His hips give one last push, seating himself as deep as anatomy allows, and the final pulse is less an ejaculation than a DROOL. Something impossibly thick oozing from his slit into my packed womb, filling the last remaining spaces with what feels like warm putty. He collapses against my ass. Three feet eight inches of spent goblin, panting like a bellows, his cock still LOCKED inside me, his balls resting empty and deflated against my thigh. "HRUK... hruk... thrack me..." I lie there. Face in the furs. Elara's hand on my belly. My womb FULL, so full it aches, not with pain but with *presence*. Everything he produced in the last twenty-four hours is sealed inside me behind a glans-lock that won't release until his body decides it's done. Minutes pass. I feel the lock begin to soften. The expanded tissue of his glans slowly *deflating*, the seal loosening, and my cervix begins to close around the shrinking cockhead, trying to retain what it received, trying to keep every drop exactly where his biology intended. He pulls out. The sound is WET and LONG, *SCHLLLOOOORRRRRRRRP*, his entire length sliding free of my clutching canal, and the HEAD coming through my cervix with a *pop* that makes my whole body jerk. Then: nothing inside me. For one second. Then: His cum pours out of me in ropes and chunks and ribbons that splatter onto the furs beneath my spread knees. The SMELL is staggering: concentrated to a potency that makes Elara gag and then *inhale deeper*. (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/elise creampie.jpg","BLLLOOOORRRRRT.") "Oh, *look* at it all." Her voice is awed. She's watching the flood from inches away. "There's so *much* more than when he finishes in me." "Saved up SPECIAL fer the hero-cunt." Snib, flopped on his back, cock softening against his belly. "All fer cow-tits' first time." More pours out. And more. A puddle forming on the furs, thick enough to MOUND. I can feel my womb contracting, pushing, expelling, but not all of it. Not NEARLY all of it. The densest clots, the fertile ones, the ones with those hook-headed swimmers I've read about, have already found their purchase against the walls of my uterus. Already burrowing. Already *beginning*. "Come here." Elara's hands on my hips. Rolling me over onto my back. My tits FLOP sideways, *WHAP-WHAP*, and she's between my thighs, and her mouth descends, and her tongue finds the flood. *SCHLRRRRP.* (pic:"ch04/bad end/good end/elise creampie.jpg","'Mmmm-oh GODS it's really thick today-'") "Mmmm-oh GODS it's really thick today-"(simple_option:"04 day12 routine","The days blur after that.")

(badendsave:"thrack-sisters")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/double bj.jpg")($play:"sex loop","double bj") ($play:"song","goblin ending")($play:"ambience","desert wind")The days blur after that. Routine swallows the days whole. Seasons blur when you stop counting sunsets and start counting meals, chores, the weight of a sleeping body against yours in the dark. Dawn: prayer. The words come without thought now, the way breathing comes without thought. *Thank Storak for Master Snib's fat cock.* Knees on packed earth. Elara's voice and mine braiding together. *We are gobbo fuck-meat.* The collar warm as bathwater. *Our cunts belong to Snib and Storak forever.* Snib receives this with the gravity of a temple elder, which means he scratches his balls quite a bit. We've developed a SYSTEM for the double blowjobs. Elara starts: she's faster at getting him hard, her mouth knows the angles, the pressure points, the particular twist of tongue on frenulum that makes his toes curl. I join when the taste of his pre-cum on her chin tells me he's close to halfway. She takes the head. I work the shaft. Our hands overlap, adjust, settle into a grip pattern that covers his full length, her smaller fingers laced between my longer ones, both sets slick with the grease his cock produces like a candle produces wax. We finish him together. Share the load. Kiss it clean. Wipe our chins on the same cloth. Breakfast. "More porridge, hubby?" I say, and the word doesn't even REGISTER anymore. Just a sound. Like "sir" to a commanding officer. Empty of everything but habit. "Fill 'er up, cow-tits." I ladle. He eats. Elara mends a hole in his loincloth with the tiny bone-needle she fashioned from a sand-hare's rib. Domestic. Afternoon: I hunt. The snare-line is mine now, fourteen traps set across a two-mile radius, each one positioned the way Aldric used to position siege engines. My body has learned the desert: the way the spike heels *can* navigate sand if you shift your weight to the balls of your feet, the way these wide hips actually help with balance on uneven ground, the way my ridiculous tits can be managed with a particular cross-armed carry that keeps them from swinging when I need to move fast. I catch myself *humming* on the walk back. A tune that isn't the Storak hymn but isn't NOT the Storak hymn. Something that belongs to the hut and the well and the dead olive tree. Evening: the fuck. The ORDER varies. Some nights he takes Elara while I hold her hand and suck her tits. Some nights he takes me while she narrates the positions, "deeper, hubby, she likes it when you hook upward," and strokes my hair. Some nights it's mouths and hands: both of us on our knees before him, tongues crossing over his shaft, competing for the head in a game that has developed its own unspoken rules and scoring system. Elara rates his orgasms on a scale of one to *booyagh*. Last night was a solid seven. "The chunky ones," she explains to me while we clean each other's faces, "are always better quality. More *potent*." I don't ask how she knows this. He fucks me every other night now. The womb-lock doesn't happen every time, only when he's particularly backed-up, when his balls hang heavy and his pre-cum runs thick as tree-sap. Those nights I lie face-down and feel him EXPAND inside me and seal the chamber and PUMP, and Elara rests her cheek on my back and times the pulses, and we count together in whispers, *one, two, three*, like we're counting shooting stars. Night: the fur pile. Three bodies. His warmth between ours. My tits draped across his chest. Elara's leg hooked over his hip. Our hands laced across the terrain of his sleeping body. Holding. I am the hero of Eboncrest. I killed a dragon. I held a bridge. I saved villages. I am also the woman who kissed her wife through his cock and held still for the womb-lock and said the prayer and meant it. By repetition. By accretion. Water on stone, until the stone forgets its own shape.(simple_option:"04 day13 language","A rainy afternoon changes things.")

($play:"ambience","desert wind")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/3.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elise bikini.jpg","left")($play:"song","goblin ending")Rare desert rain hammers the hut like a thousand tiny fists. The hut is a cave of amber light and trapped warmth. All three of us stuck inside: Snib on his furs with his cock out, Elara and me at his feet, one massaging each warty ankle with the absentminded thoroughness of women who've stopped noticing what they're touching. "Teach us more," Elara says. She means Goblish. She's been collecting words the way she used to collect herbs: cataloguing, cross-referencing, building a vocabulary with the same methodical joy she brought to memorizing the properties of foxglove and feverfew. "Right." Snib holds up his cock. "What's THIS?" "*Thrak-meat*," we say together. "What's it DO?" "*Thrak-meat breed-stuff grip-slit splurt-cream.*" "HRUK! Fast learners!" He cups his balls. "And THESE?" "*Splurt-sacks,*" I say. "Full of *breed-goo,*" Elara adds. "That BREW *cum-porridge,*" I finish. Snib's face does something I've never seen before. His yellow eyes go *soft*. Pleased. (change_stat:"snib",2)"Yer the smartest fuck-meat in the whole Shifting Sands," he says quietly. The lesson continues. He names body parts. We repeat. He names acts. We conjugate them: past, present, future. *Grak thrack-uk. Grak thrack-ik. Grak thrack-ok.* The language is crude as a cudgel but there's a MUSIC to it when you stop resisting. The glottal stops become percussion. The wet fricatives become melody. After Snib dozes off, mouth open, cock softening across his thigh, Elara and I sit cross-legged on the straw and quiz each other in whispers. "How do you say 'I need his seed'?" "*Grak splurt-ok thrak-gush-ik.*" I pause. "Wait-that's 'I will need.' Present tense needs the *-ik* suffix on the verb, not the object." "Since when do you understand Goblish GRAMMAR?" "Since I started *listening* instead of gagging." She throws straw at me. I catch it in my cleavage. We both stare at the straw poking out from between my tits and then we're *giggling*, hands clamped over our mouths, shoulders shaking, tears forming, the kind of laughter that comes from somewhere beneath language, beneath shame, beneath everything. "Okay okay-" She's gasping. "How do you say 'my husband's cock is the mightiest in the land'?" "*Grak thrackta thrak-meat booyagh skeet-ground.*" "And 'my co-wife has the fattest arse in Zaelasia'?" "*CO-WIFE?*" I throw straw back at her. "There's no Goblish word for-" "There IS. Snib told me yesterday. *Thrack-sister.* Literally 'fuck-sibling.' The woman you share a cock with." *Thrack-sister.* The word sits between us like a stone dropped into still water. "Say something in Goblish," she whispers. "Something *real*." I think for a long time. The rain patters. Snib snores. The fire crackles. "*Grak... heart-grip... thrack-sister... always-ik.*" My Goblish is clumsy. The grammar is probably wrong. But the meaning is clear enough: I love you, fuck-sister, always-now. Elara's eyes fill. She answers in the same broken tongue. Something about *splurt-ok* and *heart-grip* and *together-ik*, mangling the conjugation so badly that a Goblish professor would weep, but it doesn't matter because we've found a way to say what we need to say in the only language this hut understands. From the furs, a sleepy mumble: "Hruk... good wives... booyagh wives..." His snoring resumes. We hold hands in the amber light and listen to the rain.(simple_option:"04 day15 visitors","Days pass.")($play:"sex loop",0)

($play:"song","goblin ending")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elara bikini.jpg","right")"Welcome to Master Snib's home," we say together, rehearsed, synchronized, our voices braiding the way they do during morning prayer. "We're sorry Aldric killed your brothers. Please let us make it up to you." We're in the armor. Both sets. Elara's green-tinted triangles barely contain breasts that have swollen with early pregnancy hormones. My cups have given up entirely on containment: the left triangle has migrated to cover approximately one-third of my nipple. "THRACK ME SIDEWAYS." Grash's cock is already tenting his loincloth. "They do it in UNISON." "Told ye," Snib says from his fur-throne. "Booyagh wives." The dance comes first. We've been practicing for days and it SHOWS. Back to back, hips rolling in counter-rotation, my massive ass grinding against Elara's in a figure-eight that makes the goblins stamp their feet. The clap: *PAP-PAP-PAP-PAP.* My ass-cheeks providing thunder, hers providing snare. The shimmy: everything moving at once, tits and bellies and hips. "I'M SORRY I KILLED YOUR BROTHERS!" I gasp, still shaking. "NOW I'M GOBBO FUCK-MEAT!" "AND I *LOVE* BEING GOBBO FUCK-MEAT!" Elara adds, grinding her ass against mine so hard the scales *clink*. (change_stat:"snib",3)Grash falls off his seat. Again. Then the main event. "Right." Snib cracks his knuckles. Tiny sounds, like stepping on beetles. "Here's the rules. I take fire-cunt. She's MINE. *Thrackta.*" Possessive-first-person. The word means *cunt-I-filled.* "Grash gets cow-tits. Fer GORTHAK." He holds up one claw. "But NO cumming inside her, cousin. She's carryin' SNIB'S pups." *Pups.*($play:"sex loop",0)(simple_option:"04 foursome","The word doesn't even sting anymore.")

($play:"ambience","desert wind")($play:"sex loop","foursome")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")The word doesn't even sting anymore. "And Snotlik gets the mouths after." The furs aren't big enough for four bodies, so we improvise. Snib and Elara on the main pile, missionary, his favourite, her legs hooked over his warty shoulders, her copper hair fanning across crusted leather. Me on the straw beside them, hands and knees, ass up, the position that Snib has designated as "the apology stance." Grash kneels behind me. His cock is different from Snib's: shorter by two inches but THICKER, gnarly with the same ritual scarification that covers his chest, from his time with the Sandwalkers. Raised spiral ridges carved into the shaft itself. When the head presses against my entrance, I can feel each ridge like a knuckle. My hand reaches across the gap. (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/foursome.jpg") Elara's hand reaches back. Our fingers lace. "Together," she whispers. They enter us at the same time. "HHHNNNGH-" "*Ahhhh-hubby-*" *SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP-SCHLAP.* *GLRCH-GLRCH-GLRCH-GLRCH.* Two rhythms. Two women. Two goblin cocks churning two human pussies. The sounds LAYER: his wet slapping mixing with Grash's thicker, rougher pounding, Elara's high moans weaving through my grunts, the furs creaking and the straw crackling and somewhere outside Jarkrond stamping once in his lean-to. (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elise foursome cum.jpg","'That's fer Gorthak!'")Our gripped hands are the bridge between us. When Snib bottoms out and Elara GASPS, I feel the squeeze. When Grash's scarified ridges drag across something electric inside me and my spine BOWS, she feels mine. "This is fer GORTHAK," Grash grunts behind me. Each thrust deliberate. Angry. Grief-flavored. "And fer SNAGGLE. And fer KRUUK." "I'm sorry-*hnnngh*-I'm SORRY I killed them-*ah ah ah*-" And I AM. That's the fucked-up miracle of it. Kneeling here with a dead goblin's brother's cock splitting me open, I feel genuine remorse. Not for the battles. For the IGNORANCE. For thinking they were monsters. For never once considering that Gorthak had a clutch-mate who'd mourn him. "Forgive me," I pant into the straw. "Please-*HNNNGH*-forgive-" "HRRK-getting SENTIMENTAL, are we?" Snib, mid-thrust, mid-wife. "Save the POETRY and shake that fat arse, cow-tits!" Elara pulls my hand. I look up. Across two feet of hut, through the chaos of goblin limbs and bouncing flesh, her sapphire eyes find mine. Her face is WRECKED with pleasure, mouth open, cheeks flushed, Snib's warty hands on her tits, but her eyes are *clear*. She mouths: *I love you.* I mouth it back. Grash pulls out at the last second. His cock ERUPTS across my ass in thick ropes that splatter both cheeks and run down to pool in the small of my back. The heat of it. The *weight*. The stickiness. "That's fer Gorthak," he says, quieter now. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "He'd have LOVED this arse." (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elara pregnant creampie.jpg","Snib FLOODS Elara thirty seconds later.") Snib FLOODS Elara thirty seconds later. His piglet-squeal, her answering scream, the wet GLORPING of his seed pumping past her cervix into the womb where his spawn are already growing. She clamps her thighs around his tiny body and holds him there, milking every drop. (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elara foursome creampie.jpg","Snib FLOODS Elara thirty seconds later.") Snotlik gets the mouths. He lasts ninety seconds. We share the load. Kiss it clean. Afterward, bellies full of stew, balls drained, the mood loose as old rope, Grash says the word that changes everything. "The Griznak, cousin. Ye COMIN'?" Every goblin in the room goes still. Snotlik's boil stops weeping. "*Griznak-ik gruk-when?*" Elara asks. In perfect Goblish. Three goblins stare at her with their mouths open. "She SPEAKS it," Snotlik whispers. "We BOTH do," I say. "*Gruk-thrak, splurt-sack brothers. Grak heart-grip thrak-sister always-ik.*" Silence. Firelight. "Twelve days," Grash says hoarsely. "South oasis." Snib looks at us. His yellow eyes are wet. "Start practicin'," he says.(simple_option:"04 day20 bumps","Time passes...")

(pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elara pregnant.jpg","right","'Three pups. I can feel them.'")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/3.png")Evening. The well. Both of us stripped to wash, the way we do now, no modesty left between us, only the practical choreography of two women sharing a water-pump and a bucket. Elara's belly has ROUNDED. Taut, luminous, the skin drawn tight over something that has *decided* to exist. Her breasts have swelled a full size. The nipples have gone dark as dates, the areolae spreading to wide brown coins that look painted on her freckled skin. "How many do you think you have?" I breathe. She touches herself with both hands. This wonder on her face that has nothing to do with the father and everything to do with the fact. "Three pups," she says. Quietly. "I can feel them." *Three.* "Come here," she says. Her wet hand presses my lower belly. My bump is smaller, earlier along, but THERE. A firmness beneath the softness. I'd been ignoring it. Calling it bloating.(if:(get_choice:"04 day11 fucked"))[ "When Snib locked in you that first time," she says. "His sperm... it would have..." She's using her herbalist's voice. Gentle. "The Sandwalker pregnancy. If there was one. It's gone now, Elise. Goblin seed rewrites everything. These are *his*." His. Snib's. The little green creature snoring in the hut made these things growing inside both of us.] "How many?" I whisper. She presses harder. Her fingers reading me the way they read herb-stems. "Two. *Maybe* three." (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elise pregnant.jpg","left","We stand there in the dusk. Wet. Naked. Rounded.")We stand there in the dusk. Wet. Naked. Rounded. The well-pump dripping between us. The dead olive tree black against a sky that's turning the colour of Elara's hair. "We're going to be mothers," she says. Like she's tasting the words. "Goblin mothers." From the hut: "OI! Two breedin' sows standin' out in the COLD! Get them bellies INSIDE before me pups catch a chill!" We go.(simple_option:"04 day25 silks","Days pass. Bellies swell.")($play:"song",0)

($play:"song","goblin ending")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/1.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elise outfit.jpg","left","Burgundy for me. Forest green for her.")Burgundy for me. Forest green for her. Real silk, raided from the merchant routes by Grash, who has become something almost like a friend. The halter cradles my tits instead of fighting them, the fabric draping their weight like water flowing over boulders. My belly peeks beneath the hem. Golden waist-chains clink at my hips. Bare feet, tonight. Snib wants us grounded. Elara's wrap crosses between breasts that have gone full and heavy with milk-preparation, knotting behind her elegant neck. Her belly is PROUD beneath the green silk: round, firm, unmistakable. Bone-beads click in her copper braids. She ties my halter. I fix her wrap. Like preparing for a festival back home, except the festival is a goblin breeding-fair and we're the prize livestock. "You look like something that starts wars," she says. "I DID start a war. That's why we're here." We practice the dance one final time. The drums are us clapping: me providing the bass with my palms on my thighs, Elara the rhythm on the cookpot. Our hips catch the groove. Silk flows. Chains chime. Our bellies undulate, my slight curve and her full moon moving in waves that celebrate what's growing. Snib watches from the furs. His yellow eyes are wet again. He's been crying on and off for days, the Gobboree approaching like a tide that carries the possibility of everything he lost when they exiled him. (change_stat:"snib",2)"Booyagh," he whispers. We reach for each other's hands. Silk brushing silk. Bump nearly touching bump. Tomorrow we ride to the Griznak.(simple_option:"04 gobboree","The Griznak Gobboree.")

($play:"song","nightmare goblin jig")($play:"ambience","gobboree muffled")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",1400,"forever",true))(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")(pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/elara outfit.png") Thousands of goblins crammed into a desert oasis produce a pheromone cloud visible as a SHIMMER above the dunes: a heat-haze of concentrated breeding-musk that makes both of us gasp and grip Jarkrond's mane tighter. My cunt floods. Elara's thighs clench. The babies inside us KICK, responding to the chemical signature of their father's species. "Steady," Elara murmurs. To me. To herself. Tents. HUNDREDS of tents. Hide and red canvas and stolen sail-cloth spreading across the oasis in concentric rings around a central fire-pit the size of a city temple. Drums already POUNDING: a heartbeat. Goblin voices raised in the guttural, wet music of Goblish: arguing, laughing, the particular shriek-cackle of males comparing cock-sizes. (set:$map to "img/maps/map 3.jpg")(set:$map_position to (a: 5470,2550))(map: ) Slaves everywhere. Human women in varying states of completion: some on leashes, dazed and dripping. Some walking freely with glazed expressions and swollen bellies. Some nursing green-skinned pups at their breasts. One blonde northern woman, her belly enormous with what must be quadruplets, catches my eye and *smiles*. The smile of someone who has passed through horror into something beyond it. I smile back. Snib leads us through the crowd. One warty hand on each of our asses. Three feet eight inches of exile walking back into his people with a "wife" at each side. "Is that-" "Can't be-" "SKULGAROTH?" "NAH!" "With them TITS! Just like he said!" "BOOYAGH!" "And the RED ONE's got a belly on her! TWO wives for ol' Snibby!" Snib's chin lifts. His walk develops a *strut* I've never seen: this bandy-legged, pot-bellied SWAGGER that makes his loincloth swing and his balls pendulum beneath it. "*THEM'S ME WIVES!*" he screams at nobody and everybody. "*GRAK THRACKTA BOOYAGH WIVES!*" The registration goblin, ancient, one-eyed, his remaining eye milky with cataracts, squints at us across his bone-table. Squeezes my left tit with clinical detachment. Inspects Elara's belly with a calloused palm. Both of us respond in the appropriate Goblish, "*Gruk-thrak, Elder. Grak grip-slit belong Snib-thrackta*," and his one eye goes WIDE. "They speak PROPER?" "BOTH of 'em," Snib says. Vibrating. The elder stamps his hide-scroll. Looks at Snib with an expression freighted with centuries of goblin social architecture. "Welcome back, exile. Your wives do you honor." Snib makes a sound I've never heard from him: a small, cracked noise from somewhere in his warty chest where goblins apparently keep whatever they use instead of hearts. We each squeeze a hand. The dance circle forms at moonrise. Hundreds of goblins stamping in concentric rings around the central fire, which has been fed until it roars fifteen feet high, throwing sparks into a sky salted with more stars than I've seen since childhood. The heat is ferocious. The noise is DEAFENING. Other slaves have performed: shuffling, reluctant, pheromone-drunk things that earned polite grunts. "PRESENTING!" The elder's voice, impossibly loud. "SNIB OF WORMTOOTH! AND HIS TWO THRACKTA!" The roar that answers shakes sand from the dune-crests. We step into the circle. Burgundy and green. Silk catching firelight. Golden chains. Bone-beads. Bare feet pressing into sand still warm from the day's heat. Both bellies swelling with green life under gossamer fabric. The drums SHIFT. Someone has started a breeding-chant rhythm. Four-four time. The bass hits my breastbone like a second heart. *BOOM-BOOM-CLAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.12,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",800,"forever",true)) *BOOM-BOOM-CLAP.* Elara moves first. Her hips catch the beat and ROLL, compact and precise, the green silk flowing around her belly like water around a stone. Her copper braids swing. The bone-beads CLICK counterpoint. (pic:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/game over.jpg") I answer. My body has learned to be ITSELF in the months since transformation: not fighting the curves but WIELDING them. My hips describe arcs that make the burgundy silk billow. My tits sway in their halter with a momentum that five hundred yellow eyes track like cats tracking a bird. The waist-chains sing. We circle each other. Drawing in. The drums BUILD. Our hands clasp. *BOOM-BOOM-CLAP.* We spin. TOGETHER. Our bellies brush, her full moon against my rising crescent, and the contact sends the babies tumbling inside us, responding to each other through the walls of silk and skin and womb. Our silk BILLOWS in the firelit updraft, burgundy and green tangling and separating, and the crowd begins to CHANT: "*BOO-YAH! BOO-YAH! BOO-YAH!*" We break apart. Back to back. The CLAP begins: my massive cheeks providing the thunder through silk that does nothing to muffle the sound, Elara's adding the snap. *BOOM-BOOM-CLAP-PAP.* *BOOM-BOOM-CLAP-PAP.* Five hundred goblins STOMPING along. The sand LEAPS. The fire SURGES. We face each other again. Close. Our foreheads almost touching. The sweat on our skin catching firelight like we've been dipped in honey. And Elara begins to sing. Her voice, that clear soprano that used to fill the Eboncrest chapel during Flux's Dance, rises above the drums. But the words are NOT Common tongue. They're Goblish. Broken, beautiful, *obscene* Goblish that we practiced in whispers while Snib wept with pride: *"Grunt-grunt, splurt-splurt,* *Storak's seed fills all the dirt,* *Humie queens become the cows,* *Humie heroes learn to bow..."* My voice joins hers. The harmony we found during sennights of morning prayer, repurposed for this: a hymn to the god of breeding, sung by two pregnant human women in silk and firelight: *"Grip-slit open, splurt-sacks drain,* *Green spawn growing, no more pain,* *Every sword becomes a cradle,* *Every oath becomes a fable..."* The goblins have gone SILENT. Five hundred creatures holding their breath. Even the drums have softened to a whisper-pulse beneath our voices. *"Thrak-meat fills the empty space,* *Green replaces humie race,* *Breed-hole, cum-tank, wobble-meat-* *Storak's work almost complete..."* Our hands find each other. We spin. Slowly now. The silk settling around us. Our bellies pressing together, her roundness and mine, the life inside both of us KICKING in synchrony, goblin babies responding to their mothers' song with the blind, fierce urgency of things that want to be born. *"No more Eon, no more Flux,* *No more Verge to give you luck,* *Just the green, the seed, the dark-* *All praise Storak's breeding-spark..."* The last note hangs in the desert air like a lit coal refusing to die. Silence. Our foreheads touch. Green eyes meeting sapphire. The fire warm on our backs. The silk warm on our bellies. The collar warm on my throat-no, not warm. *Silent*. I can't feel it at all. "Together," I whisper. "*Always-ik*," she whispers back. The crowd DETONATES. "*BOOYAGH! BOOYAGH! BOOYAGH!*" Five hundred throats. The SOUND hits like a physical wave. Goblins climbing on each other's shoulders. Bark-milk cups hurled skyward. Somewhere in the chaos, Snib is LIFTED, carried on the shoulders of the goblins who exiled him, his warty face a RUIN of tears and snot and the most naked joy I have ever witnessed on any face of any species. "*THEM'S ME WIVES!*" he screams at the stars. "*ME BOOYAGH WIVES! ME SLUTTY THRAKKIN' BOOYAGH WIVES!*" A bone-crown, crude, strung with teeth from kills he probably never made, is placed on his head. The crowd ROARS. And then: new drums. Softer. A rhythm for dancing, not competing. *Music*: the first real music since everything changed. Elara pulls me onto the sand. We dance. *Us*.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",2400,"forever",true)) Spinning slowly in a circle of firelight, silk flowing, chains chiming, our bellies pressed together with the roundness of what we're becoming. Her hand on my waist. Mine on hers. Our cheeks touching. Her copper hair mixing with my black. Around us: a sea of green. Yellow eyes and broken teeth and the reek of pheromones and fermented bark-milk and the drumbeat of a species that is fucking itself to extinction while dragging ours along for the ride. Above us: stars. The same stars that shone over Eboncrest when Aldric carried Elara across their threshold. The same stars that don't care. Snib watches from his throne of goblin shoulders. Bone-crown askew. Tears drying in the creases of his warty face. Three feet eight inches of the most unlikely king in Zaelasia. For the first time in his miserable, exiled life, he looks like he belongs somewhere. We dance until the fire burns low.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:2000,0.06),(a:4000,0.04),(a:6000,0.02),(a:8000,0))))(set:$bad_end to (dm:"title","Thrack-Sisters"))(display:"unlock bad end")(gameover:"ch04/bad end/thrack sisters/game over text.jpg")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/4.png")(masteraudio:"stopall")($play:"ambience","desert horse")(chapter_title:4,"Homecoming")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.14,"peakTo",0.18,"baseFrom",0.03,"baseTo",0.03,"intervalFrom",1000,"intervalTo",1000,"attackMs",40,"sustainMs",30,"releaseMs",120,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.08,"depthJitter",0.04))The pines thin as we climb. Each hoof-fall JOLTS the world through my spine: up through my seat-bones, through the high-waisted scale-breeches that cling to every curve of my-of *these* HIPS-and into the brass-bright morning. My thighs grip the beast's flanks like I'm strangling something. Used to be, I could ride for days. Aldric's thighs were oak-wrapped iron. Now they're smooth as butter-leather, and they ACHE. *CLOP. CLOP. CLOP.* Behind me, Snib shifts his weight. His bony knees dig into my waist. His breath, mushroom-rot and sleep-spit, moistens the bare skin between my shoulder blades where the breast-band doesn't reach. And his BULGE. That impossible mass of half-hard breeding-meat, nestled in the valley of my ass like it BELONGS there. Each stride makes it SHIFT against me, makes his loincloth ride up until the heat of it bleeds through the scale-mail. (playwhenread:"nice warm seat",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:400,0.18),(a:800,0.24),(a:1200,0.22),(a:1600,0.24),(a:2000,0.20),(a:2400,0.16),(a:2800,0.10),(a:3200,0),"resumeAfter",true)))"Mmmmm." His warty fingers settle on my hips. Just... resting there. "Nice warm SEAT ye make, cow-tits." (hidden_gem:"The pet name lands like a slap-casual, unthinking, TRUE.","The pet-name plants itself like a parasitic seed-casual, cruel, and catastrophically correct.") I don't answer. My jaw's clenched so tight my molars creak. The breast-band, black scales polished like beetle-shells, wide as my palm, compresses everything into a sweating shelf of flesh. When I breathe deep, the metal BITES the undersides. When I don't breathe deep enough, the weight of them pulls me forward, threatening to pitch me over the horse's neck. And when the horse MOVES- *CLOP-THUMP* (vid:"img/ch04/riding.mp4","right")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.18,"peakTo",0.22,"baseFrom",0.04,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",950,"intervalTo",950,"attackMs",45,"sustainMs",35,"releaseMs",130,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.05,"intervalJitter",0.08,"depthJitter",0.05))They BOUNCE together, a SLAP of meat against meat Snib can FEEL through my spine. His fingers TWITCH against my hips every time. His cock THROBS harder against my ass. Because he's been giggling for the last hour. The scale-breeches were supposed to be a mercy. I BEGGED for more clothing. Convinced him that humans would react badly to a woman in slave-chains. That we needed to look... legitimate. What I got was HIGH-WAISTED scale-mail that rises to my belly button and clings to every inch of ass-meat like wet silk on statuary. The metal panels articulate when I move, CLICKING together, announcing my haunches to anyone with ears. But at least my legs are COVERED. At least my- *CLOP-THUMP-JINGLE* The horse beneath us grunts. A deeper sound. Eerily conversational.(simple_option:"04 horse comment","'What... what IS this beast?'","Stay silent and endure.")

(display:"bp hj")($play:"song","eboncrest")(pic:"ch04/riding.jpg","left")(if:$choice is "'What... what IS this beast?'")[(playwhenread:"what is this beast")I've been avoiding the question. Avoiding THINKING about it. The creature beneath us is no proper horse. I've ridden warhorses, palfreys, destriers bred for battle. The rough mane against my bare belly feels like untanned hide. And its SMELL- MUSKIER than horse-sweat. Older. "JARKO!" Snib slaps the beast's haunch, leaning around me to do it. The motion grinds his cock deeper into my crack. "Good BOY! Best friend a gobbo ever HAD!" The horse, apparently named Jarkrond, makes that rumbling sound again. His orange-amber eyes, visible when he turns his head, seem to EVALUATE me. "Desert horse, cow-tits," Snib explains, settling back against my spine. His hand slides from my hip to cup the underside of one breast through the band, feeling it WOBBLE with each stride.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:300,0.22),(a:600,0.28),(a:1000,0.26),(a:1400,0.28),(a:1800,0.24),(a:2200,0.20),(a:2600,0.14),(a:3000,0),"resumeAfter",true))) "Ash-runner. Goblin's courser." *CLOP. SLAP. JINGLE.* "Won't take a human rider. Too smart for bits and bridles. But he likes ME." (hidden_gem:"His barrel-chest works like a bellows beneath me.","Beneath me his barrel-chest billows and breathes-beast-blood from the borderlands that brooks no bit, bends to no bridle, bows before no man born of woman.") I remember now. The raiders from the Shifting Sands ride such beasts. "We got us an ARRANGEMENT, me and Jarko." Snib's voice goes FOND. "He carries me places, I give him... opportunities." "Opportunities?" "Mares, bounce-bags." His hand SQUEEZES my tit, making the flesh bulge against brass scales. "Jarko here's got a cock like a siege ram and needs to use it. Village mares, wild fillies, whatever." His laugh rattles against my spine. "We raid together, see. He gets the horses. Gobbos get the-" Another squeeze. "-other livestock." The implication crawls through my belly like ice water. The beast's ears rotate back toward us. He HEARD that. UNDERSTOOD it. And when his amber eye catches mine again, there's a KNOWING quality that makes my thighs clench tighter against his flanks. "He likes ye, I think." Snib sounds PLEASED. "Keeps flarin' them nostrils. Smellin' yer pretty she-stink." "You said he won't take a human rider." "'S right! Can't FORCE a desert horse. They choose." His fingers trace the metal edge of my breast-band, finding where flesh spills over. "But Jarko knows yer MINE. So he'll carry us both." Somewhere ahead, the tree line breaks.](else:)[The beast shifts beneath us, adjusting its gait as the terrain changes. Each movement sends my compressed tits BOUNCING against the breast-band, creating that wet SLAP of flesh that I can't get to stop. Snib's fingers drum against my hip. "Jarkyboy's in a good mood," he says, unprompted. "Lookit his ears." I watch those ears, too large, too mobile, swivel toward birdsong, toward rustling undergrowth, toward my own ragged breathing. "He likes riding with us." Snib settles more heavily against my back, his cock a brand between my asscheeks. "Usually just carries me, but yer warm. Soft." His thumb traces the scale-mail covering my hip. "Desert horses like soft things."] The ground levels. The pines give way to scrub oak, then meadow-grass, then-(simple_option:"04 valley reveal","The valley opens before you.")

($play:"song","eboncrest")(pic:"ch04/arrival home.jpg","Eboncrest.") Beyond the meadow, beyond the stream that feeds it, beyond the ancient oaks that Aldric climbed as a boy- **Eboncrest.** (hidden_gem:"Walls rising from pine roots. The Crossroads Keep. Morning sun catching the spires of the wizard's tower. Smoke from forge-fires threading the sky.","Walls wreathed in wildwood, the Crossroads Keep crowned in copper dawn, wizard-spires winking with first light, forge-smoke weaving its wan way toward a waiting sky.") The fortress gates-those gates I've ridden through a hundred times in triumph, crowds throwing flowers, children shouting my name- *My name.* "Therrrrre she is." Snib's voice goes SOFT. Satisfied. Like a man admiring his new property. "Yer old stompin' grounds, eh?" *CLOP. CLOP. CLOP.* Jarkrond descends the ridge at an easy pace. "Thinkin' about wifey?" Snib's hand returns to my breast, palm sliding UNDER the shelf of meat to feel it SLAP against his fingers with each stride. *WHAP. WHAP. WHAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.24,"peakTo",0.28,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",950,"intervalTo",950,"attackMs",40,"sustainMs",35,"releaseMs",120,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.08,"depthJitter",0.05)) My lungs lock up. *Elara.* In that house between the smithy and the bakery. Waking up alone. AGAIN. For the... how many days has it been? Three? Four? Each morning expecting word. Each morning getting NOTHING. Does she think I'm dead? Captured? Does she pray to the Triad for my return? "OI." Snib's voice hardens. The collar responds. Cold weight against my windpipe. "Snib ASKED ye somethin'. Don't go DEAF on me now." (playwhenread:"yes im thinking about my wife",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.24),(a:500,0.18),(a:1000,0.12),(a:1500,0.08),(a:2000,0.04),(a:2500,0))))"Yes." The word tears out. "Yes, I'm thinking about my wife." (hidden_gem:"I used to ride for hours without noticing my body. Now every heartbeat reminds me.","I used to ride for hours without heeding my body. Now every heartbeat hammers home what I've become.") "Well, yer thinkin' too hard, bounce-bags." Snib's breath is hot against my shoulder blade. His chin barely reaches my spine when we're mounted like this, sitting behind me on Jarkrond's haunches, legs splayed around my hips like a child on a festival pony. "Can always tell when ye're thinkin'. Yer arse clenches up." "I'm *navigating*." "Navigatin' with yer arse? HRUK-HRUK! Talented cunt, ye are!" Jarkrond snorts beneath us. His muscles bunch, eager to run. He can smell water, probably. Or maybe he smells the town's mares. "Ye smell good when ye're scared," Snib observes. He's pressed closer now, his chest against my back, that BULGE grinding into the cleft of my ass. "All that fancy perfume-sweat. Like meadow-flowers growin' in a panic." "I'm not scared." "Course not. Ye're a hero." His hand slides up my ribs, casual, like checking a horse's flank. "Heroes ain't scared of nothin'. 'Specially not goin' home." His palm cups the underside of my right breast. Feels the weight of it. The bounce. *SLAP-SLAP-SLAP* The impact travels through his hand, up his arm. His cock TWITCHES against my ass. "Tell Snib about WIFEY." "No." The collar tightens. One degree. Two. "Snib SAID tell. Or maybe them nice breeches GO AWAY. Walk ye through town in yer REAL outfit." "She's-" The words stick. "She's an herbalist. Healer. She runs the shop on Temple Street." "Healer, eh?" Snib's hand is still under my breast. Still feeling each bounce. "Soft hands, then. GENTLE hands." He makes a wet sound with his mouth. "Bet she touches ye all NICE when ye come home. All tired from killin' Snib's cousins." My eyes burn. The walls are so much closer now. I can see the gate: the iron-banded wood, the murder holes above, the guards' shapes moving on the battlements. "She does." "Wait till she sees what her big strong hero's become. Then-" His hands slide to grip both hips, pulling me back against his bulge. "Then we'll see whose wife she really wants to be." He says it the way you'd note a cloud passing. Eboncrest waits. It does not know what's coming home.(simple_option:"04 wife thoughts","'She'll never want... YOU.'","'She loves ME. Aldric.'","Say nothing. Don't give him ammunition.")

(pic:"ch04/horse argue.jpg","right")(if:$choice is "'She'll never want... YOU.'")["Elara would never-" The collar TIGHTENS just slightly at the defiance. I adjust. "She'd never want a goblin. She married a HERO. Not a-" (playwhenread:"elara would never want a goblin")"Not a what?" Snib's voice is DELIGHTED. "What am I, hero-cunt? Say it." I should stop. I know I should stop. But the walls are getting closer and the fear is turning to poison. "A disgusting little MONSTER-" The collar BITES. Real this time. I gag, hands flying to my throat, and Jarkrond STOPS at Snib's knee-signal, leaving us frozen on the meadow path. "Nnnngh-" "That's better." Snib's voice is calm. Almost GENTLE. "See, bounce-bags, ye keep forgettin' who's in charge. So lemme help." The collar loosens, SLOWLY, as his hands return to my tits, cupping them FULLY now, feeling their weight. "Every time ye insult me, I'll make ye do somethin' WORSE for yer pretty wifey to see. Understand?" I can't answer. Still catching breath. "Started ye in PROPER slave-attire," he continues, casual as a man discussing the weather. "Ye BEGGED me for these-" He snaps the scale-breeches' waistband. His fingers find my nipples through the breast-band. PINCH.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:80,0.30),(a:200,0.36),(a:350,0.24),(a:500,0.28),(a:650,0.18),(a:800,0.12),(a:950,0),"resumeAfter",true))) "Changed the armor FOR ye. 'Cause yer a GOOD girl who asked NICELY." The pinch becomes a twist. "But keep talkin' shit, and I'll walk ye through them gates in nothin' but the collar. See how yer WIFE likes that view." He releases. I sag forward against Jarkrond's neck. "Now. What do ye say?" The words taste like grave dirt. "Thank you, Master. For... for letting me wear clothes." "HARHARHAR! See? Yer LEARNING!" Jarkrond resumes walking.](else-if:$choice is "'She loves ME. Aldric.'")[(playwhenread:"she loves the man i am inside")"She loves ALDRIC." My voice shakes but holds. "Not this body. Not this... COSTUME. She loves the man I am. INSIDE." Snib is quiet for a moment. Then his laugh starts low, building, until it shakes against my spine. "Oh, cow-tits. Ye really believe that, don't ye?" "It's TRUE." "Izzit?" His hand slides from my hip to my belly, finds the soft give of flesh where Aldric's muscles used to be. He PINCHES. I yelp. "Yer wife would reach fer ye in the dark and find THIS." Another pinch, harder. "She'll know it's ME-" His warty nose twitches. He inhales deeply, theatrically, like a hound catching scent. "PHWOAR." His face twists with mock disgust, and something else. "Can smell ye from HERE, cow-tits. All meadow-flowers and mare-heat." He sniffs again, closer to my neck. "Ye smell like a bitch ready fer MOUNTING." He seizes my wrist. Yanks it up. Forces me to look at the hand: slender fingers, soft palm, no calluses. "This the hand what swung that sword? This the hand she HELD? Or is it just pretty fingers good fer grippin' GOBBO COCK?" I have no answer that doesn't taste like surrender. "Thought so." He releases me. Pats my hip like a farmer approving livestock. "We'll SEE what yer wife thinks. Won't we?" The walls are getting closer.](else:)[The silence stretches as Jarkrond carries us toward the gates. Snib's hands roam: hip to belly, belly to breast, breast back to hip. Never settling, never SATISFIED. (playwhenread:"yell talk plenty when were inside")"Ye'll talk plenty when we're inside," He doesn't sound bothered. "Explainin' to the guards why a big-titted human lady's ridin' with a gobbo. Don't wanna arrow in me gob." *CLOP. CLOP. CLOP.* "Explainin' to the merchants why ye smell like goblin cock." *CLOP. CLOP. CLOP.* "Explainin' to yer WIFE why her husband ain't comin' home." His grip tightens on my hip. "Not till I got me gold." (hidden_gem:"The meadow grass whispers against Jarkrond's legs. The stream burbles past. The walls grow larger.","The meadow murmurs against the mount's great legs, the stream sings its silver song past sleeping stones, and the walls of my lost life loom larger-pulling me back like a lodestone toward everything I loved and left behind.") And I have no defense against the truth he's speaking.] The outer farms appear. A miller's cottage. A smithy's smoke. People in the fields, looking up at the sound of hooves.(simple_option:"04 approach final","The gates draw near.")

I've ridden through these gates a hundred times. Victorious. Wounded. Weary. Always as ALDRIC. Always with the guards saluting, children running alongside, flowers thrown from windows. Now- *CLOP. CLOP. CLOP.* Jarkrond's hooves ring on ancient cobblestone as we leave the dirt path behind. (pic:"ch04/gate.jpg")($play:"ambience",0) Two guards at the gate. No. Four. I see the others in the murder-holes above, crossbows resting but ready. They haven't seen Snib yet. He's pressed against my back, hidden by the fall of my hair, by the bulk of my-of these THRAKKING TITS that block everything behind me like siege-tower shields. One guard steps forward. Young. I don't recognize him. "State your business in-" He stops. Eyes traveling down. The breast-band. The scale-breeches clinging to my hips. The collar at my throat. His partner is older. Grizzled. This one I KNOW: Harwick, been at the west gate for fifteen years, has a daughter who wanted sword lessons, a wife who makes terrible meat pies that Aldric always pretended to enjoy. Harwick's eyes narrow at Jarkrond. "Ash-runner," he says quietly. The younger guard's hand moves to his sword. "And what's a woman doing on a-" Snib shifts behind me. Maybe he's adjusting his balls. Maybe he's reaching for my hip. Maybe the THREE-FOOT-EIGHT GOBLIN simply can't stay hidden behind even the most RIDICULOUS amount of tit-flesh. Whatever the reason, they SEE him. "GOBLIN!" The shout comes from above. Crossbow bolts SNAP into position. Harwick draws his steel. "OFF THE HORSE! NOW!" "Wait-" My voice comes out high and thin, a woman's panic, useless as a thrown flower. "WAIT!" Snib's hand clamps my hip. Fingers digging in. His whisper hot against my spine: *"Better talk fast, bounce-bags."* His cock THROBS against my ass. Even now. Even with death aimed at us from all directions. Harwick's blade points. "You've got five heartbeats to explain why I shouldn't pin that green bastard to your spine." Four crossbows. Two swords. Six humans who'd cheer over a dead goblin. And if Snib dies, I die. Cold iron kisses my throat. *Remember what you are.* I have to talk us through this. Fast. "Four," Harwick growls. (hidden_gem:"The morning sun catches his blade. Same angle Aldric used to practice at dawn.","The morning sun catches his blade-the same slant I once swung Whisperwind through at dawn drills.") My mind races through options. What would make them HESITATE? What authority exists in Eboncrest that could override their hatred of goblins? "Three."(simple_option:"04 guard explain","'Wait! I'm escorting this goblin to Master Fendril for magical research!'","'Lower your weapons! He carries intelligence about the Ironrock situation!'","'He's my property! Let us pass!'")

(pic:"ch04/gate explain.jpg") (if:$choice is "'Wait! I'm escorting this goblin to Master Fendril for magical research!'")[(playwhenread:"escorting this goblin magical research")"Fendril?" Harwick's blade doesn't lower. "The wizard?" "Yes-he requires a live specimen for-" "Specimen." The younger guard spits. Actually SPITS, the glob landing near Jarkrond's hoof. "That what we're calling the green bastards now?" Behind me, Snib's fingers trace the edge of my breast-band. *"Tell 'em about me big cock,"* Snib breathes against my neck. *"THAT'LL convince 'em."* I keep my voice steady. "Pheromone countermeasures. Surely you've noticed the raids increasing? Fendril needs living tissue to-" "What I've NOTICED," Harwick interrupts, "is Aldric the Great went to clear goblins from Ironrock three days ago." His eyes are granite. "Never came back. You know anything about THAT?" *"Careful now..."* Snib chuckles. *"...ALDRIC."*(simple_option:"04 guard aldric response","'I heard at Thistlecross. Terrible news. Another reason this goblin might be valuable.'","'No, I don't know anything about that.'","'He's probably dead. The goblins got him.'")](if:$choice is "'Lower your weapons! He carries intelligence about the Ironrock situation!'")[(playwhenread:"lower your weapons ironrock")Harwick's eyes narrow. "Intelligence? From a GOBLIN?" "About the mines. The ruins they found. Something-" "What RUINS?" The younger guard steps closer. Jarkrond snorts, ears flattening. "What do you know about the mines?" Too much. I know TOO MUCH. But I can't explain HOW I know. Not at the end of an arrow-tip. Behind me, Snib shifts his weight. His balls DRAG across my lower back through thin loincloth. Hot. Heavy. His whisper comes wet against my spine: *"Ye smell nervous, cow-tits. Gettin' WET down there? Guards gonna notice that pretty stink..."* My thighs clench. The horse shifts. "Underground chambers," I manage. "Pre-human stonework. The goblins found something and this one-" I jerk my head backward, "-knows what." "Convenient." Harwick hasn't sheathed his blade. "Funny you mention Ironrock. Our hero Aldric went there to clear goblins three days ago. Never came back." Every word finds its mark. "You wouldn't know anything about THAT, would you?" Snib's hand finds my breast. Cups it. His thumb working the nipple through brass scales while guards WATCH. *"Careful now..."* His breath hot on my neck. *"...ALDRIC."* Six weapons. One truth. And a collar that pulses against my throat.(simple_option:"04 guard aldric response","'I heard at Thistlecross. Terrible news. Another reason this goblin might be valuable.'","'No, I don't know anything about that.'","'He's probably dead. The goblins got him.'")](if:$choice is "'He's my property! Let us pass!'")[(playwhenread:"hes my property let us pass")Harwick's blade DROPS an inch from sheer confusion. "Property?" His voice cracks with disbelief. "You OWN a-" Behind me, Snib CAN'T resist. "HRUK! She OWNS me alright!" His hands find my waist, YANK me back against his bulge. "Owns me REAL good! Best owner a gobbo ever-" "SHUT UP." I hiss it through clenched teeth. But the damage is done. Guards are exchanging glances. The younger one's hand hasn't left his sword. Above, crossbows track us with renewed interest. "That collar on your neck," Harwick says slowly. "The way you're dressed. The way that thing is TOUCHING you." His eyes are cold. "Something's wrong here." "It's... complicated. A binding ritual. Master Fendril will understand what this is. He can explain everything. I must speak with him." "Fendril." Harwick's blade rises again. "Convenient. And I suppose you know nothing about why Aldric the Great went to clear goblins from Ironrock three days ago and never came back?" Snib's hand cups my breast. Openly. His thumb finding nipple through brass. *"Careful now..."* His lips brush my ear. *"...ALDRIC."* They're waiting. Weapons ready. Suspicion thick as morning fog.(simple_option:"04 guard aldric response","'I heard at Thistlecross. Terrible news. The binding ritual-Fendril can explain everything.'","'What I know or don't know is between me and the wizard. Take us to him or answer to Mayor Bramble.'")]

(pic:"ch04/gate guard.jpg","left")(if:$choice is "'I heard at Thistlecross. Terrible news. Another reason this goblin might be valuable.'")["Thistlecross." Harwick tests the word. "Long way to travel with a goblin." "The news travels faster than caravans." I keep my voice steady. Keep my eyes on his. Don't look at the crossbows. Don't think about where Snib's thumb is. "If this creature knows what happened in those mines-what the goblins FOUND down there-" "Then Fendril should hear it." The younger guard, surprisingly. He's looking at me differently now. His eyes keep dropping to my chest, to the way the breast-band frames everything, to the collar at my throat. *"Told ye the tits would work,"* Snib breathes against my spine. (hidden_gem:"Harwick sheathes his blade. The sound is the sweetest thing I've heard since- Since Elara's voice. Three days ago. A lifetime ago.","Harwick sheathes his steel-that sliding, singing whisper of surrender, the sweetest sound since Elara's soft voice spoke my name, three sunsets and a stolen lifetime ago.") "We'll escort you to Fendril's tower." Harwick gestures to the younger guard. "Fetch rope." "Rope?" My voice doesn't crack. Doesn't. "For the goblin." Harwick's eyes are granite. "Standard procedure. We're not walking that thing through Eboncrest unbound." Behind me, Snib's fingers DIG into my hip. His whisper goes urgent: *"Don't let 'em touch me, bounce-bags. Collar don't like-"* But I KNOW the collar's rules. Better than he does, apparently. Binding isn't violence. Binding is restraint. The collar would allow this. (simple_option:"04 guard binding","'Of course. Do what you must.'","'That won't be necessary. He's... docile.'","'No! You can't bind him!'","doom")](if:$choice is "'No, I don't know anything about that.'")["Nothing?" Harwick's blade rises an inch. "Woman rides into Eboncrest on an ash-runner-GOBLIN mount-with a goblin pressed against her back, claiming business with our wizard, and she knows NOTHING about our missing hero?" "I've been traveling. The Shifting Sands don't carry much news." "But you know about the raids increasing. Know about the mines." The younger guard is circling now. Jarkrond's ears flatten. "Know enough to claim this creature has VALUE." *Shit. Shit. SHIT.* "The pheromone research," I say quickly. "That's common knowledge. Any merchant from Thistlecross-" "And which merchant gave you that collar?" Harwick nods toward my throat. "That's no traveling jewel. That's metalwork I've never seen. And the way you're dressed-" "Desert travel. The heat-" "The HEAT." He almost laughs. "You expect me to believe-" "I believe," the younger guard interrupts, "we should let Fendril sort this out." Harwick turns. The younger man shrugs. "Keep her under guard. If something's wrong-" his hand rests on his sword, "-Fendril will know. And if she's lying about any of this..." He doesn't need to finish. Harwick's jaw works. Then: "Rope. For the goblin." Behind me, Snib's grip tightens. *"Don't let 'em-"*(simple_option:"04 guard binding","'Of course. Do what you must.'","'That won't be necessary. He's... docile.'","'No! You can't bind him!'","doom")](if:$choice is "'He's probably dead. The goblins got him.'")[The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Harwick goes STILL. "Dead." His voice is quiet. Too quiet. "And how would YOU know that?" *THRACK.* "I-the mines-goblins have been-" "Our hero. The man who's saved this town a hundred times over. Went into those mines THREE DAYS AGO." Harwick's blade rises. Behind him, crossbows shift. "And you ride in on a GOBLIN HORSE, with a GOBLIN at your back, and tell me he's PROBABLY DEAD?" "I didn't mean-" "What DID you mean?" The younger guard has his hand on his sword. "How do you KNOW what happened in those mines?" Snib's fingers dig into my hip. For once, he's silent. Even HE senses the temperature change. "I heard rumors. At Thistlecross. Traders saying-" "Traders saying WHAT?" Harwick steps closer. "That Aldric the Great fell to goblins? That the hero of Eboncrest is DEAD?" His eyes find the collar at my throat. The breast-band. The creature pressed against my spine. "Or did your little friend there TELL you what happened?" *"Better fix this quick, bounce-bags,"* Snib hisses. "The goblin knows about the ruins." I'm speaking faster now. Desperate. "Pre-human chambers. Something they found. That's why I brought him ALIVE. If there's any chance of learning what happened to your hero-" "You'll tell us." Harwick's blade doesn't lower. "You'll tell us everything. At Fendril's tower. Under ARMED escort." He jerks his head at the younger guard. "Rope. Now." Harwick studies me for a long moment. "If ANYTHING seems wrong at that tower..." His eyes don't leave mine. Behind me, Snib's grip goes painfully tight. *"Don't let 'em-"*(simple_option:"04 guard binding","'Of course. Do what you must.'","'No! You can't bind him!'","doom")](if:$choice is "'I heard at Thistlecross. Terrible news. The binding ritual-Fendril can explain everything.'")["Binding ritual." Harwick doesn't sound convinced. "And this ritual requires you to dress like a dockside whore while the creature GROPES you in public?" Heat crawls up my neck. Snib's hand is still on my breast, and swatting him away would only make things worse. "The ritual is... complex. Fendril-" "Yes, yes. Fendril can explain." Harwick sheathes his blade, but his eyes stay cold. "Seems Fendril has a lot of explaining to do." He gestures to the younger guard. "Fetch rope. We're not walking a goblin through the market unbound, ritual or no ritual." "Rope?" The word comes out strangled. "For the goblin." Harwick's lip curls. "Unless your 'binding ritual' prevents that too?" Behind me, Snib's whisper goes urgent: *"Don't let 'em touch me, bounce-bags-"*(simple_option:"04 guard binding","'Of course. Do what you must.'","'That won't be necessary. He's... docile.'","'No! You can't bind him!'","doom")](if:$choice is "'What I know or don't know is between me and the wizard. Take us to him or answer to Mayor Bramble.'")["Mayor Bramble." Harwick's laugh is ugly. "You're threatening me with BRAMBLE? While riding a goblin horse, dressed like a pleasure-slave, with a green bastard's hand on your tit?" The younger guard snickers. "I know my rights-" "Your RIGHTS?" Harwick steps closer. Jarkrond snorts but holds position. "You have no rights in Eboncrest until I say you do. And right now, all I see is a suspicious woman who knows too much about our missing hero, claims ownership of a GOBLIN, and threatens guards with political consequences." *"Yer really thrakkin' this up,"* Snib breathes against my neck. His cock is somehow HARDER now. *"Should've let ME talk."* "So here's what happens." Harwick's blade hasn't lowered. "We're taking you to Fendril. Under ARMED escort. And if the wizard can't explain this madness to my satisfaction, you'll be explaining it to Captain Giles. In the cells. If you're *lucky*." "The goblin-" "Gets BOUND." His tone brooks no argument. "Hands and feet. And if you resist THAT, we'll bind you too and sort it all out at the tower." Behind me, Snib's grip tightens. *"Don't let-"*(simple_option:"04 guard binding","'Of course. Do what you must.'","'No! You can't bind him!'","doom")]

($play:'ambience',0)(if:$choice is "'Of course. Do what you must.'" or $choice is "'...Fine. Bind him.'" or $choice is "Of course. Bind him" or $choice is "Do what you must.")[The words taste like surrender. But surrender keeps us alive. "Do what you must." (change_stat:"snib",-1)Snib's fingers SPASM against my hip. His hiss is pure venom: *"Ye BITCH-"* But the collar doesn't tighten. It must sense the necessity. The younger guard approaches with rope. Coarse hemp, the kind used for livestock. His eyes keep finding my chest as he circles behind us. "Hands," he orders Snib. For a moment, I think the little bastard will refuse. Will say something that gets us both killed. His cock is still pressed against my ass, still HARD somehow, and his breathing has gone ragged with fury. Then: "FINE. Tie 'em up, boy-o." Snib extends his warty arms. "Just remember-" his yellow eyes find mine over my shoulder, "-she ASKED fer this." The guard binds him roughly. Good. "Off the horse," Harwick commands. "Both of you." First I have to swing my leg over Jarkrond's neck. The scale-breeches CLING to my inner thighs, riding up, metal plates clicking together in a way that draws every eye. Then the DROP. *CLOP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:100,0.22),(a:250,0.28),(a:400,0.14),(a:550,0.18),(a:700,0.08),(a:850,0.10),(a:1000,0.04),(a:1200,0)))) My heeled boots hit cobblestone. The impact shoots up through my calves, my knees, makes my tits BOUNCE inside the breast-band with a meaty SLAP that echoes off the gatehouse walls. I stagger. Catch myself on Jarkrond's flank. "Flux's teeth." The younger guard is staring. "What kind of boots are THOSE?" (hidden_gem:"Metal. Spiked. Six inches of heel that turn every step into a negotiation with gravity.","Metal. Merciless. Six inches of murderous heel-spike making each mincing, miserable movement a mockery of the man I used to be.") "Desert wear," I manage. "The elevation-" "Keeps her arse lookin' PROPER," Snib cackles as the guards haul him down. His bound hands don't stop him from leering. "Lookit 'er WALK in 'em. Like a mare in season!" The guards exchange glances. My soul crawls under a rock and pulls the dirt over itself. "The horse stays outside," Harwick says. "We're not bringing that thing through the market." Jarkrond's ears flatten. His orange-amber eyes find mine with unsettling intelligence. "He's tame. Just a horse." "That's no horse." Harwick's hand rests on his sword. "Ash-runners don't TAME." Jarkrond snorts. Stamps. His barrel chest rumbles with something that sounds almost like... SPEECH. Low vibrations that make my teeth ache. "Jarko's fine," Snib offers, too cheerfully. "He'll wait. Won't ye, boy?" The bound goblin makes a clicking sound with his tongue. The ash-runner's ears swivel. Then, with eerie deliberation, he backs toward the open ground beyond the gate. Settles onto his haunches. WAITS. Like a trained dog. Like a partner. "Flux preserve us," the younger guard mutters. Harwick's jaw tightens. "Move. Both of you. And if that goblin so much as BREATHES wrong-" "He won't." I meet his eyes. "I need him alive. Fendril needs him alive. Whatever happened in those mines, he's the only one who might know." The lie sits heavy on my tongue. But it gets us moving.(simple_option:"04 march fendril","The march through Eboncrest begins.")](if:$choice is "'That won't be necessary. He's... docile.'")["Docile." Harwick tastes the word. "A GOBLIN." "He understands the situation." I keep my voice level, half aiming it at Snib. I hate that this little green stain is controlling my very life right now. "He knows what happens if he causes trouble." Behind me, Snib goes very, very still. Then- "Oh AYE." His voice drips with mockery. "I'm DOCILE as a lamb, me." His bound-free hands slide up my ribs, cup both breasts from behind, squeeze them UPWARD until the breast-band nearly fails. "See? GENTLE. Wouldn't hurt a fly." The guards' hands fly to weapons. "Unless-" Snib's hands begin to wander, "-the fly WANTED hurtin'. Then maybe-" "ENOUGH." I grab his wrists performatively. Pull them down. My face is burning. "He's making a point. Poorly." "Point being?" Harwick hasn't drawn, but his knuckles are white on the hilt. "Point BEIN'," Snib cackles, "ye could gut me any time ye liked. Big strong guards with big sharp swords. What's one little gobbo gonna do?" He spreads his arms wide, displaying his small frame, his complete vulnerability. "DOSE ISLE." The logic is twisted. But it's not WRONG. Harwick's eyes narrow. Then: "Fine. No ropes." His blade clears the sheath with a whisper of steel. "But this stays OUT. And if you so much as-" "Yeah, yeah. Gut me like a fish." Snib waves a dismissive hand. "Can we GO now? Getting' bored of this foreplay." (change_stat:"snib",1)The guards exchange looks. The younger one mouths 'foreplay?' with visible confusion. "Off the horse," Harwick growls. "NOW." (hidden_gem:"Dismounting is its own humiliation ritual.","Dismounting is its own degrading, drawn-out devotion to the dark deity of my disgrace.") The scale-breeches catch on Jarkrond's rough hide as I swing my leg over. Metal plates CLICK together. The breast-band shifts, threatening to spill. And then the DROP- *CLOP.* High heels meet cobblestone. The impact reverberates through my entire body: calves screaming, tits BOUNCING, ass JIGGLING inside too-tight scale-mail. "Eon's balls." The younger guard isn't even pretending not to stare. "What ARE those?" "Desert boots," I manage through gritted teeth. "The elevation-" "Keeps her cunt away from the sand-crawlers," Snib finishes helpfully, dropping down beside me with a grunt. "Also makes her arse look FANTASTIC. Watch when she walks." The guards haul him away before I can respond. "The horse stays," Harwick orders. "We're not-" "He'll wait." Snib makes a clicking sound. Jarkrond's ears swivel, and the ash-runner backs away with unsettling intelligence, settling outside the gate like a trained hound. "Good boy, Jarko." "Flux preserve us," someone mutters. Harwick's blade stays drawn. "Move. And I'll be watching that goblin's hands the ENTIRE way." "Oh, she LIKES when people watch," Snib cackles. They march us forward. Every eye on the street is a branding iron.(simple_option:"04 march fendril","The march through Eboncrest begins.")](if:$choice is "'No! You can't bind him!'")["No! You can't-" The words escape before I can stop them. Panic. Raw, animal PANIC at the thought of them touching him-of the collar somehow-of- Harwick's expression changes. Suspicion. "She's protecting it." His voice goes flat. Cold. "Look at the collar. Look how she FLINCHES when we threaten the creature." "No-you don't understand-" "Enchanted." The younger guard's hand moves to his crossbow. "Seen it before. Goblin mind-magic. They get in your head, make you WANT to-" "I'M NOT ENCHANTED-" "That's what they all say." Harwick's blade rises. "Kill it. Save the woman." "WAIT-" *THWACK.* The crossbow bolt takes Snib in the chest before I can scream. His grip on my hip goes slack. His eyes, yellow, gleaming, SURPRISED, find mine for one frozen moment. *THWACK.* A second bolt. His body jerks. Slides sideways off Jarkrond's haunches.(unless:$abridged)[(playwhenread:"neck snap")($play:"song",0)] (pic:"ch04/choke.jpg","Cold iron BITING into my throat. Crushing.") And the collar- -TIGHTENS- Cold iron BITING into my throat. Crushing. The ancient metal knows its master is dying and it's completing the bond, finishing what was always promised- "THE COLLAR!" Someone's shouting. "It's KILLING her!" Hands grab me. Pull me from the horse. I'm clawing at my throat, can't breathe, can't THINK- "Get a blacksmith! NOW!" But there's no clasp. No seam. Just metal that won't stop CONSTRICTING- The world goes grey at the edges. I see Snib's body on the cobblestones. See blood pooling. See Harwick's horrified face as he realizes what's happening. "We killed it! Why isn't she-" The collar doesn't CARE about intentions. Doesn't care that they were trying to SAVE me. Master dies. Slave dies. That was always the rule. The last thing I see: Eboncrest's walls, golden in morning light. The last thing I hear: guards shouting for help that won't come in time. The last thing I feel: the collar completing its purpose. And somewhere, in the fading dark, I almost hear it LAUGHING.(gameover: "ch04/choke.jpg", "chapters", "nogallery")]

($play:'ambience','eboncrest ambience')(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.08,"peakTo",0.10,"baseFrom",0.01,"baseTo",0.01,"intervalFrom",650,"intervalTo",650,"attackMs",15,"sustainMs",10,"releaseMs",30,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.02,"intervalJitter",0.06,"depthJitter",0.02))(hidden_gem:"The streets of Eboncrest.","Stone streets stretch serpentine and sun-soaked before us, the selfsame slabs that once sang beneath the stamp of Aldric's iron-shod stride-now silent save for the shameful click of slave-heels.") *CLOP. Click. CLOP. Click.* My heel-boots mark a rhythm I never asked for. Each step a controlled fall forward. Harwick walks ahead. The younger guard walks behind. I still don't know his name. And Snib... Snib walks beside me. Close enough that his shoulder brushes my hip. Close enough that his hands can find my ass when the guards aren't looking. *Squeeze.* I don't react. Can't, with Harwick glancing back every few steps, suspicion carved into his weathered face. "The tower's not far," the younger guard offers. Almost... apologetic? His eyes keep finding my chest. "Master Fendril should be in. He's always in." *"Master Fendril,"* Snib mimics under his breath. *"Ooh, a WIZARD. Bet he's got a big pointy hat and everything."* "Shut UP," I hiss. "What was that?" Harwick turns. "Nothing. He's... muttering." "Goblins do that." Harwick's lip curls. "Right before they try something." "He won't try anything." I glare down at Snib. At the creature who OWNS me, walking beside me like a child being escorted to punishment. "Will you?" Snib's yellow eyes gleam. "Wouldn't DREAM of it, milady." He sketches a mocking bow that nearly trips him. "I'm just a humble gobbo, after all. Here to help. To COOPERATE." "See that you do," Harwick growls. We pass the market square. *CLOP. Click. CLOP. Click.* People are staring. Of COURSE they're staring. A woman dressed like THIS, walking with guards, a GOBLIN at her side. "Flux's mercy, is that-" "-never seen a goblin inside the walls-" "-look at her OUTFIT-" "-probably a pleasure-slave, you know how they-" I keep my eyes forward. Keep walking. Keep pretending I can't hear Mrs. Fletcher's gasp, can't see how the baker's apprentice nearly drops his tray, can't feel the weight of a hundred gazes on my breasts, my ass, the collar at my throat. *"Popular, ain't ye?"* Snib's whisper is gleeful. *"Bet they're wonderin' what ye TASTE like."* (hidden_gem:"The fountain splashes in the square. Same fountain where children used to mob Aldric for stories.","The fountain burbles in the square-the same basin where gap-toothed children once mobbed Aldric for monster-tales.") "Eyes front," Harwick snaps at the growing crowd. "Nothing to see here. Town business." "Town business with a GOBLIN?" Someone shouts. "After what happened to Aldric?" I stumble. Catch myself on nothing. "That's ENOUGH." Harwick's hand goes to his sword. "Anyone interfering with guard business answers to Captain Giles. MOVE ALONG." The crowd parts. Reluctantly. But their eyes follow us all the way to the wizard's tower. Fendril's tower rises at the north end of town: limestone and ambition, five stories of spiral windows and weather-worn gargoyles. The highest point in Eboncrest. I've climbed those stairs a hundred times. Drunk tea in that cluttered study. Laughed at the old man's terrible jokes about transmutation. Now I'm climbing them as a stranger. As a suspect. As a woman with impossible tits and a goblin at her heels. "Wait here," Harwick tells the younger guard at the tower's base. Then, to us: "Up. Both of you. And remember-" his blade stays drawn, "-I'm RIGHT behind you." The spiral stairs are agony in heels. Each step forces my weight onto the balls of my feet. My calves SCREAM. My thighs tremble. The narrow spiral puts my ass directly at Harwick's eye level: scale-breeches clinging to every curve, cheeks FLEXING with each upward push. "Quite a view," Snib observes loudly. "QUIET." "Just sayin'. If I was behind her, I'd be-" "I said QUIET." Snib subsides. But I can FEEL his grin against the back of my thigh where he's pressed close on the narrow stairs. Four flights. Four flights of burning muscles and bouncing flesh and Harwick's eyes boring into my ass. By the time we reach Fendril's door, I'm sweating through the breast-band. Harwick pounds on ancient oak. "Master Fendril! Guard business! Open up!" Shuffling from within. The click of locks. And then- The door swings open. ($lorebook_entry:"Master Fendril","people") looks exactly as I remember. Silver hair like a bird's nest. Spectacles so thick they magnify his eyes to owl-like proportions. That same patchwork robe he's worn since before I was born. (playwhenread:"harwick whats all this about")(pic:"ch04/fendril.jpg","right")"Harwick? What's all this noise about? I was in the middle of a very delicate-" His gaze falls on me. Travels down. Stops on Snib. His owl-eyes go WIDE. "Flux's infinite branches." The words come out strangled. "Is that... is that a GOBLIN?" "Woman claims she's got business with you," Harwick says. "Magical research. Something about the Ironrock situation." "I... I see." Fendril hasn't stopped staring at Snib. At the collar. At the way my body strains against inadequate armor. "Perhaps... perhaps you'd better come in." The study is exactly as I remember. Books stacked to the ceiling. Artifacts on every surface. That peculiar smell of sulfur and failed experiments. And now: me. Standing where Aldric once stood. In a body that would make Aldric weep. "Leave us," Fendril tells Harwick. "Sir, I don't think-" (playwhenread:"i have wards on this room")"I have wards on this room that would stop a rampaging troll." The wizard's voice is firm despite his shaking hands. "If anything goes wrong, you'll know. But whatever this is-" his eyes find mine, searching, "-it requires privacy." Harwick hesitates. Then: "I'll be right outside. ANY trouble-" "Yes, yes. Thank you, Harwick." The door closes. The lock clicks. And I'm alone with Master Fendril and the goblin who owns my soul. Snib's grin spreads like rot. "Well, well, well. A REAL wizard." He hops onto Fendril's reading chair, muddy feet swinging. "This oughta be GOOD." Fendril hasn't stopped staring at me. At the collar. His spectacles flash as he leans closer. "That metalwork," he breathes. "Those inscriptions. I've seen drawings of such things, but I never thought-" His eyes meet mine. Really MEET them. "Who ARE you?" The question I've been dreading. The question I have to answer. Because if anyone in Eboncrest might understand, might HELP, it's the town wizard.(simple_option:"04 fendril reveal","'Master Fendril... it's me. It's Aldric.'")

(pic:"ch04/fendril closeup.jpg")($play:"ambience","village morning indoors") Silence. Fendril's gray eyes don't widen. Don't narrow. They simply... *settle*. Like a hawk finding its perch. "HRUK!" Snib cackles from the reading chair, his muddy feet swinging. "There it is! The big reveal! Ye should see yer FACE, wizard-man!" Fendril's attention is fixed on me with an intensity that pins me to the floor. Those thick spectacles catch the light from a dozen floating candles as he steps closer. (playwhenread:"i caught you")"You claim you are Aldric," he says quietly. "The *man* who went to clear Ironrock. Three days ago." "Yes. I am Aldric." The word comes out strangled. "I found a chamber beneath the mines. Pre-human stonework. And this-" My hand flies to the collar. Cold metal against my fingertips. "-this THING was there. It... changed me. Bound me to him." I jerk my head toward Snib, who's now examining a preserved lizard in a jar with the expression of a child at a sweetshop. "Changed you." Fendril's voice is carefully neutral. Analytical. A scholar examining a curious specimen. "My body. My voice. My-" Hysteria rises before I can stop it. I gesture helplessly at the obscene curves barely contained by the breast-band. "-EVERYTHING. But my mind is still- I'm still ME. I'm still Aldric. I remember you teaching me the wind-calling when I was twenty-three and nearly blew myself off the tower roof-" "You DID blow yourself off the roof." A ghost of a smile touches Fendril's lips. "I caught you. Barely." "You said-" My voice breaks. Tears are coming. These THRAKKING tears that come so easily now. "-you said 'Aldric, you have the magical subtlety of a drunk ox.'" Fendril goes very still. "Touching," Snib drawls. "Real touching. Can we GET ON WITH IT? I didn't drag me property across the desert to watch ye two reminisce." "Property." Fendril's voice doesn't change, but something in his posture does. "You claim ownership of this... person?" "Don't CLAIM nothin'." Snib hops off the chair, waddling over to stand beside me. His hand finds my hip with casual possessiveness. "Collar says she's mine. Collar don't LIE." He grins up at the wizard, showing all those broken teeth. "Smart thing, the collar. TALKS to me. Tells me all sortsa things about me new pet here." Fendril's eyes sharpen almost imperceptibly. "The collar... communicates with you?" "That's what I SAID, ain't it?" Snib scratches his balls through his loincloth. "Told me her real name. Told me she was a hero. Told me how to BREAK her." His grip tightens on my hip. "Made me CLEVER, it did." Fendril processes this. His expression remains mild, academic, but I've known him long enough to recognize the intensity beneath. "Remarkable." Fendril adjusts his spectacles. "Truly remarkable. The artifact appears to have formed some manner of... symbiotic link with you." "Don't know what SYM-BEE-OTTIC means, but sure." Snib waves a dismissive hand. "Point is, SHE'S mine. And ye'r gonna help me get what's OWED me." "Owed?" "Ten thousand gold." Snib's yellow eyes gleam. "Hero-cunt here's got it in the bank. Savings from all that monster-killin'. Once I get me gold, I'll let her go. Simple as." Fendril's gaze meets mine. There's a question there. "The collar has conditions," I manage. My throat is tight. "If... if I perform such a task to satisfy my m-master-" The word tastes like ash. "-he'll release me. That's what he told me. He assured me... he will keep his word." "Heartwarmin'," Snib snorts. "Now-ye gonna help or not? 'Cause if not, me and me cow-tits here are gonna take a walk through yer lovely town. Maybe visit the market. Maybe visit the WIFE." His grin sharpens. "Bet she'd LOVE to hear what happened to her husband." The threat hangs in the air. Fendril's face remains placid, but I see his jaw tighten almost imperceptibly. "Before we discuss... logistics," he says smoothly, "I'd like to verify what I'm being asked to believe. You understand, I hope. A claim of this magnitude requires evidence." "Evidence?" Snib scowls. "She just TOLD ye-" "Memories can be extracted. Implanted. Stolen." Fendril moves toward a cluttered workbench, pushing aside star charts and alembics. "If this truly is Aldric the Great, there are ways to confirm it that don't rely on narrative recollection." He returns with a sheet of parchment, thick, cream-colored, marked with faint silver runes, and a pot of ink. "Give me your hand." Snib's fingers dig into my hip. "Do what the wizard says, pet. It'll help me get me gold." I extend my hand. Fendril takes it gently. His hands are warm, dry, steady. He turns my palm upward and begins painting it with the ink in precise strokes. "The soul leaves markers on the flesh," he explains, his voice taking on the lecturing tone I remember from years of late-night discussions. "Impossible to falsify." "Sounds like horseshit," Snib mutters. "Many things that sound like horseshit turn out to be true." Fendril doesn't look up from his work. "And many things that sound true turn out to be horseshit. That's rather the point of verification." He presses my ink-covered palm to the parchment. Holds it there for three heartbeats. When he lifts it away- Light blooms across the page. Silver runes IGNITE, dancing in patterns that make my eyes water. The ink from my palm spreads, shifts, WRITES ITSELF in letters that glow like trapped starlight. And above the handprint, in script that no mortal penned: **ALDRIC THE GREAT** *Hero of Eboncrest* *Bound in Service to the Collar-Bearer* The last line pulses with a sickly green undertone. "Well." Fendril's voice is very quiet. "That's that." I stare at my name. MY name. Written in light and magic, proof that I still exist somewhere inside this prison of flesh. "HARHARHAR!" Snib's laugh shatters the moment. "Lookit her CRY! The great hero, blubberin' like a babe! That's ADORABLE, that is!" Fendril sets the parchment aside. When he turns back to us, the scholar is gone from his face. What's left is older, and angrier. "The collar," he says carefully. "May I examine it? I won't touch. Merely observe." Snib's hand shoots to my shoulder, yanking me back. "No funny business, wizard. Ye try anything, ANYTHING, and I tell the collar to squeeze. She'll be dead before ye can say 'zooky.'" "I understand." Fendril raises his hands, palms out. "No funny business. I'm simply... curious. This is clearly a piece of considerable antiquity." He leans close. I can smell pipe tobacco and old books. His gray eyes trace the collar's inscriptions, the way the metal seems to move beneath its surface, the runes that writhe like disturbed snakes. "The metallurgy alone..." he breathes. "And these inscriptions. I've seen drawings, but never..." He trails off, visibly restraining himself. "This will require study. Considerable study." "Study all ye want," Snib says. "AFTER I get me gold." Fendril straightens. His expression becomes businesslike. "The bank won't release funds without the account holder's presence and consent. Aldric-" He glances at me. "-is the account holder. But legally speaking, Aldric appears to be missing. Possibly dead." "She AIN'T dead. She's right HERE." "To you and me, yes. To the bank's officials?" Fendril spreads his hands. "They'll see a strange woman and a goblin. You will need my assistance." "Then we MAKE 'em see-" "There may be another way." Fendril moves toward his desk, rifling through papers. "The identity parchment. If I present this to the bank alongside the lady, it should satisfy their requirements. Magical verification is accepted in matters of disputed inheritance and identity fraud. This would qualify." (hidden_gem:"Hope sparks in my chest like flint striking steel.","Hope kindles in my chest-a spark struck from flint against the cold steel of despair.") "Ye can DO that?" Snib sounds suspicious. "Just... tell 'em she's Aldric?" "I can present evidence that she IS Aldric. Whether they accept it is another matter. But my word carries weight in this town." A dry smile. "One of the few benefits of being the local wizard." Snib's eyes narrow. He's calculating. I can almost SEE the collar feeding him information: probabilities, risks, optimal strategies. "Fine," he says finally. "But first-" His grip on my hip tightens. "-I wanna see the wife. This is gonna be DEE-LIGHTFUL!" My heart stops. "That's... not wise," Fendril says carefully. "The emotional strain-" "Wasn't ASKIN' yer opinion." Snib's voice goes flat. Dangerous. "The wife. NOW. Or I start screamin' in the market square about what really happened to Eboncrest's precious hero. See how the townfolk like THAT news." The threat hangs there, doing its work. Fendril's expression doesn't change, but I see his shoulders stiffen slightly. He's weighing options. "Very well," he says finally. "But first, we need to address the guards outside. They'll need to be informed of... the situation. They would not typically allow a... goblin to walk freely through Eboncrest. There will be violence." "Then TELL 'em." Snib waves impatiently. "Ye're the wizard. Make 'em understand." Fendril nods slowly. His eyes find mine, a brief connection, weighted with meaning I can't quite parse. "Wait here," he says. "Both of you. I'll speak with Harwick." He moves toward the door. Pauses. Turns back. "Aldric." The name is soft. Deliberate. "Whatever happens next... I want you to know that I'm going to find answers. About the collar." "Careful, wizard." Snib's voice is a razor wrapped in silk. "Collar's LISTENIN'. Always listenin'. Ye try to take what's mine, and she pays the price." Fendril's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "I wouldn't dream of it." The door closes behind him. I'm alone with Snib. His hand slides from my hip to my ass. Squeezes. "Nice wizard," he says. "Shame if somethin' happened to him."(simple_option:"04 fendril guards","Wait in tense silence.","Try to reason with Snib.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/4.png")(if:$choice is "Wait in tense silence.")[(hidden_gem:"Snib wanders the study, touching things he shouldn't touch-a crystal orb that hums when his fingers brush it, a leather-bound tome that SNAPS shut when he tries to open it, a collection of dried herbs that he sniffs and immediately sneezes at.","Snib skulks through the study, sticky fingers sampling every sacred thing-a crystal that croons at his caress, a codex that claps itself closed, a cache of crushed herbs whose dust drives him to sneezing fits of comic indignity.") I stand where Fendril left me, breathing carefully, not thinking about what comes next. *Elara.* The name is a wound that won't stop bleeding. Three days. She's been alone for three days. Mourning me. Probably barely eating. I know how she gets when she's worried: pacing the floors, checking the window every few minutes, burning dinner because her mind is elsewhere. And now she's going to see THIS. "Quit yer mopin'." Snib's found a small mirror and is examining his teeth in it. "Makin' me depressed just LOOKIN' at ye." I don't answer. "Here's how it's gonna work, cow-tits." He sets down the mirror, turns to face me fully. "Ye get me the gold. All ten thousand. Then ye escort me OUT of this thrakkin' town-SAFELY. No tricks, no guards followin', no arrows in me back." "And then you'll release me." "THEN-" He holds up a warty finger. "-I ride off into the sunset. One day later, the collar lets ye go. Gives me time to get CLEAR, see? Can't have ye chasin' me down the moment yer free." One day. One more day as his property, even after he has what he wants. "You said when you got the gold. Not a day AFTER." "What I SAID was I'd let ye go when I got me gold." His grin shows all those broken teeth. "Never said HOW I'd let ye go. Ye think I'm stupid? The SECOND that collar comes off, ye'll be reachin' for a sword. Nah. I need me head start." My hands clench at my sides. "Now," he continues, waddling closer. "Before them humies come back in and we gotta play nice..." His yellow eyes travel up my body. "Bend over." "What?" "Ye heard me. BEND. OVER." His voice goes hard. "All this talkin' to humans, all this 'Master Fendril' and 'Aldric the Great' shite-ye're forgettin' who ye BELONG to. Need remindin'." The collar hums against my windpipe. A dog's choke-chain at rest.](else:)["Master." The word still sticks in my throat, but I force it out. "Master, please. Before we see Elara-before you threaten her-can we just... talk? About what you actually WANT?" Snib pauses his examination of a pickled something-or-other. Turns. His yellow eyes narrow with what looked like curiosity. "What I WANT?" He scratches his chin. "What I want is to be RICH, cow-tits. Rich enough to never grovel to no tribe-chief again. Rich enough to have me own warren, me own females, me own-" "Then let's focus on that." I keep my voice steady. Reasonable. "The gold. Ten thousand. I can get it for you. Fendril will help. But Elara-my wife-she doesn't need to be part of this. She can't give you anything you don't already have access to through me." He studies me for a long moment. "Yer scared," he says finally. "Scared I'll hurt her." "Yes." "Good." His grin spreads slowly. "Fear keeps ye HONEST." He waddles closer. "But here's the thing, bounce-bags. I AIN'T gonna hurt yer precious wifey. Not unless ye give me reason. What I WANT is to see her FACE when she sees what her big strong hero's become. That's worth more than gold." My stomach turns. "And ye're gonna be on yer BEST behavior," he continues. "Gonna call me Master in front of her. In front of EVERYONE. That's an ORDER. I'm sick of ye treatin' me like some monster ye found under a rock. I'm yer OWNER. Time ye started actin' like it." "Yes, Master." (change_stat:"heroism",-1)"Better." He nods, satisfied. "Now-here's how it works after. Ye get me the gold. Ye escort me outta town SAFELY. Then I ride off, and one day later, the collar lets ye go. Gives me time to get clear." "One day? You said-" "I said I'd let ye go. Never said WHEN exactly." His eyes glitter. "Ye think I'm stupid? Second that collar comes off, ye'll have a blade in yer hand. Nah. I need me head start. One day. Then yer free." One more day. Even after everything. "Now." He waddles closer still. "Before them guards come back... bend over." "What?" "All this talkin'. All this negotiatin'. Ye're gettin' IDEAS, I can tell." His voice hardens. "Need remindin' who's in charge. Bend over."] My heart hammers. "Please-" (pic:"ch04/bend over.jpg") "Do it or I put ye back in yer OLD outfit. Or maybe NOTHIN' at all." His hand finds his loincloth, adjusting the bulge beneath. "Walk ye through the market bare-arsed. See how yer townsfolk like THAT view."(simple_option:"04 bend over","Bend over.")

(playwhenread:"who do ye belong to")(pic:"ch04/bend over comply.png","My hands find my knees.")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0)))) (change_stat:"heroism",-1)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/spanked/1.png")($play:"ambience","village morning indoors")($play:"song","eboncrest")(hidden_gem:"The position makes everything SHIFT-tits straining against the breast-band, threatening to spill, ass pushing out behind me.","The position makes everything SHIFT-breasts bulging, bottom bared, my body bent in base, broken submission.") "That's better." I hear him move behind me. "Now. Who do ye belong to?" "You, Master." "LOUDER." "You, MASTER." *CRACK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.68),(a:60,0.45),(a:150,0.32),(a:300,0.22),(a:500,0.14),(a:700,0.08),(a:900,0)))) His palm connects with my ass like a thunderclap. The scale-breeches do nothing to absorb the impact. The metal TRANSFERS it, sends it rippling through flesh that won't stop JIGGLING. "Again. Who OWNS this fat arse?" "You do, Master!" *CRACK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.72),(a:60,0.48),(a:150,0.35),(a:300,0.24),(a:500,0.16),(a:700,0.08),(a:900,0)))) The second blow lands harder. I gasp, the sound high and feminine. "And who's gonna be a GOOD GIRL in front of the guards? In front of yer WIFE?" "I am, Master!" *CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.70),(a:500,0.72),(a:1000,0.75),(a:1100,0.50),(a:1250,0.35),(a:1450,0.22),(a:1650,0.14),(a:1900,0.06),(a:2100,0)))) Each impact sends shockwaves through my body. My tits bounce against the breast-band. My eyes water. The SOUND echoes off Fendril's stone walls, off his books and artifacts, off centuries of accumulated knowledge that does nothing to help me now. The door opens. (pic:"ch04/oh gods.jpg") "We've spoken with the may-" Harwick stops mid-sentence. I'm still bent over. Snib's hand is still raised. The tableau freezes like a painting of damnation. (playwhenread:"i see weve interrupted")"Ah." Fendril's voice comes from behind the guards. Carefully neutral. "I see we've... interrupted." (hidden_gem:"The shame burns hotter than the handprints on my ass.","The shame scorches fiercer than the fresh handprints searing my haunches.") I straighten slowly. Face burning. Eyes on the floor. The two guards, Harwick and the younger one, stare at me with pity so thick it could choke a man. They KNOW. They know I'm Aldric. They've seen the parchment, heard Fendril's explanation. And now they've seen their hero bent over, getting spanked like a disobedient tavern wench. "Right then!" Snib claps his hands together cheerfully. "We all sorted? Can we GO now?" Harwick's jaw works. His hand hasn't left his sword. "Master Fendril has explained the... situation." The words come out like he's chewing nails. "We understand that any harm to you results in harm to-" His eyes flick to me. Away. "-to Aldric." "Damn RIGHT it does." Snib raises his hand. The air TWISTS. Black metal manifests from nothing, coiling out of the collar itself like a snake unspooling from its den. It spirals downward, link by impossible link, until the end lands in Snib's waiting palm with a soft *clink*. My leash. Conjured from the collar's own dark substance. Fendril says nothing. But I see his eyes ignite behind those spectacles: the feverish gleam of a scholar watching the laws of nature snap in half. His fingers twitch toward his notebook before he catches himself. "See THIS?" Snib holds up the leash, letting it catch the candlelight. Or rather, letting it DRINK the candlelight, the metal somehow darker than shadow. "This ain't just jewelry, boys. This is OWNERSHIP. Watch." He yanks.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:80,0.22),(a:250,0.30),(a:400,0.14),(a:550,0.20),(a:700,0.08),(a:850,0)))) The collar RESPONDS. The metal TIGHTENS around my neck and GUIDES me, forcing my body to move in ways I don't choose. My knees buckle. I drop. *THUD.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:100,0.18),(a:250,0.22),(a:400,0.12),(a:550,0.08),(a:700,0)))) (hidden_gem:"I'm kneeling before him. A three-foot-eight goblin in a loincloth, and I'm on my KNEES.","I'm kneeling before him-a three-foot-eight goblin, and I'm on my KNEES, kowtowing, a knight's honor knocked to nothing, nobility negated by this nauseating new normal.") "Good GIRL." Snib pats my head like I'm a dog. His fingers tangle in my hair, this silk-soft hair that used to be warrior-short. "See how EASY she comes to heel?" "This is-" Harwick starts. "She's MINE." Snib's voice goes cold. He tugs the leash again, forcing my chin up. I'm staring directly at the bulge in his loincloth, inches from my face. "Tell 'em, pet. Tell 'em who ye belong to." My throat works. The words taste like poison. "I belong to Master Snib." "LOUDER. So the nice guards can hear." "I belong to Master Snib!" "And what are ye?" The collar PULSES, feeding him the words it wants me to say. "I'm... I'm his property." (change_stat:"heroism",-1)"HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" Snib's laugh echoes off the stone walls. "There we go! See, boys? Perfectly TRAINED." He releases my hair, lets me sag forward. "Now. We done with the demonstrations? Or ye want me to show ye what ELSE she can do on her knees?" Harwick's face has gone the color of old parchment. The younger guard looks like he might vomit. "That won't be necessary," Fendril says quietly. His voice is steady, but I can see the calculation behind his eyes. The theories forming. The horror carefully contained. "I believe we all understand the... nature of the binding." "Good." Snib tugs the leash, and I rise unsteadily, these thrakking heels threatening to betray me. "Then let's GO. Me and me pet have a wifey to visit." He doesn't release the leash. Doesn't even shorten it. Just holds it loosely, letting it trail between us like an umbilical cord of damnation, as he waddles toward the door. "Master, please-" I start. "Did I ASK?" He yanks. I stumble forward, tits bouncing, ass jiggling, the guards parting to let us pass.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.38),(a:80,0.22),(a:200,0.28),(a:350,0.14),(a:500,0.18),(a:650,0.08),(a:800,0)))) "Ye wanted to talk to humans. Fine. We talked. Now we're goin' to see yer WIFE, and ye're gonna do it PROPERLY." He turns to the guards. "Ye can follow if ye want. Keep yer distance though. This is FAMILY business." "The mayor has agreed to... accommodate... your requests," Fendril says quietly. "For the time being. But understand-this town loved Aldric. If you harm her-him-" "Yeah, yeah. Pitchforks and torches." Snib waves dismissively. "Save yer threats, wizard. I just want me gold and me freedom. Keep yer peasants off me back, and nobody gets hurt." He tugs the leash again. "Come on, titcow. Time to go home."(simple_option:"04 walk home","The longest walk of your life begins.")(set:$leashed to true)

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/leashed/1.png")(pic:"ch04/town leash.jpg")($play:'ambience','eboncrest ambience')($play:"song","elara meet")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.08,"peakTo",0.10,"baseFrom",0.02,"baseTo",0.02,"intervalFrom",650,"intervalTo",650,"attackMs",15,"sustainMs",10,"releaseMs",30,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.02,"intervalJitter",0.06,"depthJitter",0.02)) *CLOP-CLICK. CLOP-CLICK. CLOP-CLICK.* My heels ring against cobblestones I've walked a thousand times. The leash pulls taut with each step, the leather collar-attachment digging into my throat, forcing me to keep pace with Snib's waddling stride. Behind us, twenty paces back as ordered, Harwick and the younger guard follow. Their eyes are on me. The leash. My ass SWAYING in these thrakking scale-breeches with every mincing step. They know it's me. They KNOW. "Mornin'!" Snib calls out to a passing merchant. "Lovely day, innit?" The merchant, old Henrik's boy, the one who lost fingers to the wyvern, stares. His cart full of turnips sits forgotten. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. "That's... that's a goblin." "And THIS is me pet." Snib tugs the leash, making me stumble closer. "Ain't she pretty?" Henrik's boy looks at me. At my barely-contained tits, my collared throat, the leash in a goblin's hand. His face settles on horror. But his eyes linger a half-second too long on my chest. "Move along," Harwick growls from behind us. "Town business. Nothing to see." We move. Past the fountain where children played this morning. They're gone now, mothers having dragged them inside at the sight of us. *CLOP-CLICK. CLOP-CLICK.* Finally, we turn onto Temple Street. And there it is. Our house. Mine and Elara's. Nestled next to the smithy, just as it's always been. The roses in the window box, watered even through her grief. The boots by the door, MY boots, Aldric's boots, still waiting for feet that may never fill them again. The smoke from the chimney. She's home. My heart stops. "Well, well." Snib's voice is thick with satisfaction. "This is gonna be GOOD."(simple_option:"04 elara door","Approach the door.")

($play:'ambience',0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/2.png")($play:"song","elara meet")The door opens before I can knock. (hidden_gem:"She's standing there in the green dress-the one she wore the day I left. The fabric hangs looser now. Three days of not eating.","She stands swathed in that selfsame green, the gown she wore when I walked away to war-but the weave hangs wan and wasted now, three days without food having whittled her waist, three nights without sleep having shadowed her sapphire eyes, three forevers without me having hollowed something in her face that I cannot name.") Her hair, that autumn fire I've buried my face in a thousand times, is half-undone, strands escaping a hasty braid. Dark circles bruise the skin beneath her sapphire eyes. She's been crying. Recently. The tracks still glisten on her cheeks. She looks like a woman attending her own husband's funeral. And then she sees us. "Can I help-" Her voice dies. Her eyes find me first. Travel down. The black metal straining against my huge tits. The scale-breeches clinging to hips wider than any woman in Eboncrest. The collar at my throat. The LEASH. Her gaze follows the black cord from my neck, down, down, to the warty green hand holding its other end. To Snib. She makes a strangled gasp, like someone drowning on dry land. Her hand flies to her mouth. (hidden_gem:"She staggers backward, shoulders hitting the doorframe.","She staggers, stumbles, steadies herself against the doorframe-shock spreading across her sweet, stricken face like shadow swallowing sunlight.") "What-WHO-" She's looking at me now, really LOOKING, and I can see her trying to make sense of what she's seeing. A goblin. A leash. A woman dressed like a pleasure-slave. On HER doorstep. "Get AWAY from my house-" "Elara."(playwhenread:"elara meet first time") Her name breaks from my throat before I can stop it. Wet. Desperate. Nothing like Aldric's baritone. She freezes. (pic:"ch04/elara sees.jpg","right")"How do you know my-" Her eyes narrow. Then widen. Something flickers behind them, recognition trying to surface through layers of impossibility. "How do you know my NAME?" "HRUK-HRUK!" Snib yanks the leash, pulling me forward. I stumble, tits bouncing, and he GRINS up at her. "Mornin', missus!" "I'll SCREAM." Elara's voice has gone hard. Dangerous. I know that voice. "I'll scream and every guard in Eboncrest will-" "They're already HERE, luv." Snib jerks his thumb backward. Harwick and the younger guard stand at the garden gate, faces carefully blank. "Go on. Ask 'em why they ain't killin' me. Ask 'em who THIS is." He tugs my leash again. "Go on, cow-tits. Introduce yerself to the missus." Elara looks to Harwick. He gives the smallest nod. When she looks back at me, the blood leaves her face like wine poured from a glass. "No." The word is a whisper. "Elara." I'm crying now. I can't stop it. These tears that come so easily, streaming down cheeks too soft, too feminine. "Elara, it's ME. I know you can't-I know this doesn't make SENSE-but it's me. It's Aldric." (playwhenread:"dont you dare you cant")"Don't you DARE." Her voice cracks. "Don't you DARE say his name. My husband is DEAD. He went to those mines and he NEVER CAME BACK and you-you're not-you CAN'T be-" "Elara, it's ME." The tears come. "I know this doesn't make sense. But it's me. It's Aldric. Ask me ANYTHING. Something only we would know." Her jaw tightens. Testing me. Looking for the lie. "Prove it."(simple_option:"04 prove elara","'The Festival of Lights. We snuck into the market square at midnight...'","'Old Briar's Bridge. The rainstorm. We carved our initials...'","'Your grandfather's ring. The Summer Solstice Fair...'")

(if:$choice is "'The Festival of Lights. We snuck into the market square at midnight...'")["The Festival of Lights." The words tumble out, wet and desperate. "We snuck into the market square at midnight with the lanterns we'd painted for weeks. You wore this dress-THIS dress, Elara-and you climbed on my shoulders to reach the high hooks. A cat startled us. We nearly fell. You laughed so hard you couldn't breathe and I had to cover your mouth so we wouldn't wake the watchman." (hidden_gem:"Her hand flies to her heart.","Her hand flies to her heart-fingers finding that familiar, frantic flutter, the first faint flicker of faith burning through her fortress of grief.") "The paint wasn't dry. Remember? You had blue handprints on your thighs for three days because I-" My voice cracks. "-because I grabbed you when we stumbled. You told everyone it was from helping the dyers."](if:$choice is "'Old Briar's Bridge. The rainstorm. We carved our initials...'")["Old Briar's Bridge." I'm crying now. Can't stop. "The rainstorm that came out of nowhere. You were shivering so hard your teeth chattered. I gave you my coat and we pressed against the oak tree and that's when I-" My voice breaks. "-that's when I told you I loved you. First time. You said 'finally' and punched my arm." Her breath catches. "We carved our initials that night. E and A. You made me add a heart because you said I was 'emotionally stunted' and needed practice. It's still there. The scar in the bark. I check it every time I cross that bridge."](if:$choice is "'Your grandfather's ring. The Summer Solstice Fair...'")["Your grandfather's ring." The memory surfaces through my tears. "The Summer Solstice Fair. You thought you'd lost it-tore apart every stall, every patch of grass. You were crying. I'd never seen you cry before." (hidden_gem:"Her face goes pale.","Her face falls pale as plague-parchment, as if the blood has fled to find that old oak, that ancient scar, that silent proof of promises we carved together in the rain.") "It was in your herb pouch. You'd taken it off to apply salve to that little boy's scraped knee. And later, by the fire, you put it on my finger." I hold up my hand, these small, feminine fingers, and imagine the weight of it. "You asked if I'd always be your knight. Even when I turned into an old, grumpy man." Her lip trembles. "I said forever and always."] She stares at me. At my eyes. The same moss-green that Aldric had. The only thing unchanged. "Aldric?"(playwhenread:"cant believe it aldric") The word is barely a whisper. And then she's CRASHING into me. Her arms wrap around my neck, pulling me down because I'm SHORTER now, and she's sobbing into my shoulder. The embrace is desperate, bone-deep, shaking. "I thought you were DEAD-" Her voice is muffled against my neck. "-three days, I couldn't eat, I couldn't SLEEP, I kept waiting for someone to bring me your BODY-" "I'm here." I'm crying too. These tears that come so easily now. "I'm alive, Elara, I'm-" (pic:"ch04/embrace leash.jpg","I'm crying too.") "I prayed to every god. I begged Flux for change, begged Verge for a different future, begged Eon to let me keep just one more MEMORY of you-" "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-" She pulls back. Cups my face in her hands. Studies me with red-rimmed eyes. "You're so..." Her thumb traces my cheekbone. My jaw. The softness where hard angles used to be. "You're so DIFFERENT. But your eyes. I can see you in there. I can SEE you-" "I'm still me. Inside. I'm still-" "TOUCHIN'!" Snib's voice shatters the moment like a thrown stone. His yellow eyes are drinking in every sob, every desperate clutch, every broken whisper. "Real touchin'." He tugs the leash, just enough to remind us it's there. "Sweet little reunion. Makes me heart grow three sizes, it does." Elara's head snaps toward him. Her arms tighten around me. "You." Her voice has changed. Gone from grief to something colder. "You did this to him." "Weren't ME, missus. It was the collar." Snib grins, adjusting his balls. "But yer husband makes a FINE little housemaid. Should see how she scrubs me floors. On her hands and knees, them big udders danglin' and swayin'..." "Stop." "...sweatin' through that little metal outfit I keep her in. The SMELL of her when she's been workin' all day-like flowers growin' in a whorehouse-" "I said STOP." "And at NIGHT." Snib's grin spreads wider. "Ohhh, at night. When them urges get too strong for her new body. When she's lyin' in the hay, fingers between her legs, moanin' like a bitch in heat-" "SHUT YOUR MOUTH-" "-thinkin' about YOU, probably. Or maybe thinkin' about ME. Hard to tell with all that squealin' and gushin'. Either way-" He yanks the leash HARD, pulling me away from Elara's embrace.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.45),(a:80,0.28),(a:200,0.34),(a:350,0.18),(a:500,0.24),(a:650,0.10),(a:800,0)))) "-she's MINE now. Every fat tit. Every bouncy arse-cheek. Every wet little hole. MINE." Elara's face has gone white. Then red. Her eyes find the kitchen. The knife block. (pic:"ch04/elara threaten.jpg")(simple_option:"04 stop elara","STOP HER!","Let it happen.","doom")

(if:$choice is "Let it happen.")[(pic:"ch04/elara stab.jpg","right")I see it happen like a painting. The knife catches the afternoon sun, that good butcher's blade, the one she uses for Sunday roasts, and it GLEAMS with righteous fury. Elara's autumn hair flies behind her like a war banner. Her face is twisted with grief and rage and our years of love turned to VENGEANCE. She's beautiful. She's TERRIFYING. And I don't stop her.(playwhenread:"thats for my husband") Some part of me is still Aldric, still the warrior who killed a hundred goblins, still the man who HATES this creature with every fiber of his being. That part WANTS this. Wants to see that blade sink into green flesh. Wants to hear him SCREAM. *Do it. DO IT. End this nightmare-* The blade finds its mark. Snib's eyes go wide. His mouth opens, to curse, to threaten, to laugh, but only blood comes out. "That's for my HUSBAND," Elara snarls, and TWISTS. Snib crumples. And the collar- -WAKES.(unless:$abridged)[(playwhenread:"neck snap")] Cold iron BITES into my throat. CRUSHING, instant and absolute, ancient magic completing its oldest promise. *Master dies. Slave dies.* I try to scream but there's no air. Try to claw at the metal but my fingers find no purchase. The world goes grey at the edges, then black, then- "ALDRIC!" Elara's voice, distant, drowning. "ALDRIC, NO-" She's beside me. Hands on the collar. Pulling. SCREAMING for help. But there's nothing to pull. No clasp. No seam. Just metal that won't stop CONSTRICTING- The guards are shouting. Someone's running for a blacksmith. Elara is sobbing my name over and over, her hands red with goblin blood, her eyes wild with a new horror- She killed the monster. And killed me too. The last thing I see: her face. Beautiful. Broken. Understanding too late what she's done. The last thing I feel: the collar finishing what it started. The last thing I hear: my wife screaming as the light goes out. *I love you.* *I'm sorry.* *I-* (gameover: "ch04/elara threaten.jpg", "chapters", "nogallery")](else:)[Time slows. I see it unfold in perfect clarity: Elara's hand closing on the knife handle, her body PIVOTING, her arm drawing back for the killing strike. The afternoon sun catches the blade. It gleams like a promise. For one heartbeat, I let myself imagine it. The steel punching through Snib's chest. The way his yellow eyes would go wide. The blood, dark, thick, SATISFYING, pooling on our kitchen floor. His grip on my leash going slack. His body crumpling. The nightmare ENDING. It would be so BEAUTIFUL. (pic:"ch04/elara stop.jpg","right")"ELARA, NO!" My body moves before my mind catches up. These legs that aren't mine, these arms wrapped in soft flesh instead of muscle, LUNGE. I crash into her from the side, both of us going down in a tangle. The knife skitters across the floor. "LET ME GO!" She's FIGHTING me-clawing, kicking, trying to get free. "LET ME KILL THAT FUCKING-" "You CAN'T!" I'm pinning her down, my weight, such as it is, pressing her to the floorboards. "Elara, LISTEN to me-" "He TOOK you! He CHANGED you! He made you into his thrakking SLAVE-" "If he DIES, I die!" The words rip from my throat. "The collar! It's BONDED! If you kill him, I-" She goes still. Her sapphire eyes find mine. Wide. HORRIFIED. "What?" "The collar." I'm crying again. Can't help it. "It's linked to him. If anything happens to him, if YOU hurt him, I die too. That's why the guards won't act. That's why Fendril can't help. That's why-" "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" Snib's laughter cuts through the moment like a rusty blade. He's standing by the mantelpiece, arms crossed, watching us wrestle on the floor. The knife lies between us and him, but he doesn't even look at it. "Should've let her try, pet." He grins. "Would've been REAL dramatic." "You MONSTER." Elara's voice shakes with fury. "You disgusting, vile, wretched little BEAST-" "Sticks and stones, missus." Snib examines his claws. "Now-yer done? Good." His eyes find mine. "Tell her." My stomach drops. "Tell her WHAT." "Tell her who ye belong to." His voice goes hard. "Tell her what happens if she tries that shite again. And call me MASTER when ye do it." The collar pulses against my throat.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.20),(a:300,0.28),(a:600,0.32),(a:1000,0.28),(a:1400,0.22),(a:1800,0.16),(a:2200,0.10),(a:2600,0)))) I look at Elara. At my wife. At the woman I've loved for six years, pinned beneath me, staring up at the creature her husband has become. "Elara." My voice is barely a whisper. "Please. Don't... don't try to hurt him again." "Aldric-" "He's my..." The word sticks. BURNS. "...he's my Master. The collar made it so. And if anything happens to him-ANYTHING-I die." Her face crumbles. "Say it PROPER," Snib demands. "Tell her who OWNS ye." The tears come faster.(playwhenread:"im his property") (change_stat:"heroism",-1)"I belong to Master Snib." The words taste like grave dirt. "I'm his... his property. His slave. And you have to let him-let him do whatever he-" "ENOUGH." The door CRASHES open. Harwick and the younger guard burst through, swords drawn, then freeze at the tableau. Two women tangled on the floor. A goblin by the fireplace. A knife gleaming between them. "What in Flux's name-" "Bit of a hearth-squabble," Snib says cheerfully. "The missus got her hackles up. All sorted now though. Ain't it, pet?" I can't speak. Can only nod. Elara is staring at me with pity. Raw, marrow-deep pity. The kind that kills love. "Get OFF me," she whispers. I roll away. Stand unsteadily. Elara rises slowly. Her green dress is rumpled. Her hair wild. Her eyes... Her eyes move over my body. Really SEEING it for the first time. Past the face, past my eyes, to the REST. The breasts straining against black metal. The hips flaring beneath scale-mail. The legs, the waist, the ass that won't stop EXISTING no matter how much I hate it. "You're..." Her voice breaks. "You're really... THIS now." "Yes." "And you can't... the collar can't be..." "Not unless he releases me." She looks at Snib. At his grin. Then back at me. "We need to get you proper clothes," she says. Her voice has gone strange. Hollow. "You can't walk around in... in THAT. And we need to... there has to be a way to..." "The mayor's been informed," Harwick says quietly from the doorway. "The... situation." Elara's head snaps toward him. "The MAYOR knows?" "Had to, ma'am. Can't have a goblin walking through Eboncrest without-" "So the whole TOWN is going to know." Her voice rises. "Everyone's going to know that Aldric-that my HUSBAND-is..." She gestures at me, at all of me, words failing. "...is THIS?" "Not... yet." But soon. Eboncrest gossips like crows over carrion. Eboncrest's hero. The man who saved them a hundred times. Now a collared, leashed, tit-heavy slave to a three-foot goblin. Elara's legs give out. She crumples onto a kitchen chair, head in her hands, shoulders shaking. (hidden_gem:"The sobs come ugly and raw-an animal sound, the sound of something being pulled out by the roots.","The sobs come in savage swells-wrenching, raw, ripping through her ribs like some wild thing clawing free of its cage, each gasp a grief too great for words, each shudder a surrender to the shape of sorrow.") I want to go to her. Want to hold her. But the leash keeps me at Snib's side, and the guards block any sudden movement, and all I can do is stand here in this OBSCENE body while my wife falls apart. Finally, she looks up. Her eyes find Snib. Red-rimmed. Ruined. But steady. "What do you want." A surrender. "Just... tell me what you want. I'll do anything. ANYTHING. Just give me back my husband." Snib's grin spreads slowly. "Now we're talkin'."(simple_option:"04 explain snib","Explain what Snib wants.")]

(pic:"ch04/explain.jpg","'He wants... he wants ten thousand gold.'")($play:'ambience',0) (hidden_gem:"I take a shaky breath. My voice comes out thin. Wrong. Everything about this is WRONG.","I draw a shaking, shallow breath-my voice comes out thin as thread, feeble, foreign, everything about this fractured, everything about this fundamentally, fatally WRONG.") "He wants... he wants ten thousand gold." Elara flinches like she's been slapped. "Ten THOUSAND?" She repeats it like she's testing whether the words are real. "Aldric, that's... that's almost EVERYTHING. That's our SAVINGS. That's what we were putting aside for..." She doesn't finish. *For the baby. For the future. For the life we were building together.* "I know." (if:(get_choice:"03 clean inside","'...Master Snib, will you... will you touch my...'"))["Course, she's already knocked a bit off," Snib says casually, examining his claws. "Been a GOOD girl, yer husband. Very... cooperative." Elara's head snaps toward him. Then toward me. "What does that MEAN?" Heat crawls up my neck like a rash. I can't speak. Can't explain. Can't tell her about kneeling in the filth of his hut, about the words he made me say, about BEGGING him to- Elara stares at me. A light goes out behind her eyes. (change_stat:"elara",-1)"We should go to the bank," I whisper. "Please. Can we just... go?"](else-if:(get_choice:"03 grope offer","'Please... grab my ass, Master Snib.'"))["She's been REAL eager to work off her debt," Snib chuckles. "Should've SEEN her. Waggling that fat arse, BEGGIN' me to-" "What?" Elara's voice cuts like glass. "Begging you to WHAT?" I can't look at her. My face is burning. The memory of those words, *Please Master Snib, grab my ass*, echoes in my skull like a death knell. "Aldric." Her hand grabs my chin, forces me to meet her eyes. "What did you DO?" "I..." My throat closes. "I just... I was trying to reduce the debt. Every bit helps, and he said if I-" "If she ASKED nice," Snib finishes, still grinning. Elara's hand drops from my face like I've burned her. (change_stat:"elara",-1)"The bank," I manage. "We should... we should go."](else-if:(get_choice:"03 well","'...fine.'"))["Least she knows how to WORK," Snib snickers. "Should've seen her scrubbin' me floors yesterday. Naked as the day she was born. All that MEAT just swingin' and bouncin'-" "NAKED?" Elara's voice cracks. "Had to earn her keep somehow." Snib shrugs. "Can't have her wearin' that pretty armor while she's doin' CHORES, can I? Gets all sweaty. Needed to AIR OUT." Elara's jaw tightens. Something in her gaze hardens. (change_stat:"elara",-1)"Let's go to the bank," she says flatly. "Now."](else:)["She's been earnin' her keep," Snib says, picking at his teeth. "Cleanin', cookin', huntin'. Regular little housewife." Elara's eyes search my face for something: confirmation, denial, I don't know. "The bank," I say quickly. "If we can get the gold, this ends. That's what matters."] "And ye think I'm just going to LET him go?" Elara's voice shakes. "Hand over everything we've saved, everything we planned for our FUTURE, to this... this..." Elara stares at him with pure hatred. Then her shoulders slump. "Fine." The word is hollow. Dead. "Fine. We'll go to the bank. We'll get your... your GOLD." She spits the word like poison. "And then you'll release my husband." "That's the deal, missus." Snib tugs my leash. "Now-let's GO. Daylight's wastin' and I got GOLD to collect." Elara moves toward the bedroom. "I'm getting her something to WEAR. She can't walk through town in-" "NAH." Snib yanks the leash hard enough to make me stumble. "She stays in what she's got. I LIKE her outfit. Shows off me property real nice." "She's not your PROPERTY, she's my-" "Says so right on her neck." Snib's voice goes cold. Flat. "Now-we goin' to get me gold, or what?" Elara's fists clench. But she walks toward the door.(simple_option:"04 leave for bank","Leave.")

($play:'ambience','eboncrest ambience')(hidden_gem:"Harwick and the younger guard lead the way, clearing a path through streets that WERE bustling moments ago. Now they're frozen. Staring.","Harwick and the younger guard lead the way through streets struck suddenly, searingly still-shopkeepers standing slack-jawed, stallholders staring, the whole of Eboncrest seized by a single, suffocating silence.") A woman I don't recognize clutches her child to her skirts as we pass. An old man, I think he sells candles near the fountain, makes a warding sign against evil. Two young men who might have been guards-in-training openly GAWK at my chest, elbowing each other and whispering. *CLOP-CLICK. CLOP-CLICK.* My heels ring against the cobblestones. Each step makes everything BOUNCE. The breast-band strains. The scale-breeches cling. Elara walks ahead of us. Spine straight. Head high. Refusing to look back. But Snib is looking at HER. His yellow eyes crawl down her back, find her hips beneath the green dress, settle on her ass and STAY there. (pic:"ch04/snib appreciates elara.jpg","But I see Snib looking at HER.") "Nice body, yer wife," he murmurs. Just loud enough for me to hear.(simple_option:"04 response walking to bank","Don't. Please.","'Keep your eyes off her!'")

(if:$choice is "'Keep your eyes off her!'")["Keep your EYES off her!" The words come out before I can stop them. Elara half-turns. Snib's grin spreads slowly. His yellow eyes never leave my wife's backside. "Or WHAT, cow-tits?" He gives my butt a casual squeeze. "Gonna stop me? Gonna MAKE me look somewhere else?" His free hand gestures at my chest. "Cause from where I'm standin', ye ain't got much LEVERAGE." "She's not part of this. Leave her ALONE." "Ain't touchin' her, am I? Just LOOKIN'." He scratches his chin. "Though now ye mention it... pretty little thing, yer wife. Them red curls. Them big blue eyes. Bet she'd look REAL nice on her knees." "You BASTARD-" He yanks the leash. HARD. I stumble, nearly fall, tits swinging wildly. By the time I catch my balance, Elara has turned fully, watching with horror. "Everything alright?" "FINE," Snib answers for me. "Yer husband just gets FEISTY sometimes. Don't worry-I know how to calm her down." (pic:"ch04/squeeze.jpg","Right there, in the middle of the street.") His hand finds my ass. Squeezes. Right there, in the middle of the street.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:300,0.24),(a:600,0.32),(a:1000,0.30),(a:1400,0.26),(a:1800,0.20),(a:2200,0.14),(a:2600,0.08),(a:3000,0)))) Elara's face goes pale. "Keep walkin', missus." Snib's voice is cheerful. "We got BANKIN' to do."](else:)["Please." The word comes out strangled. "Don't... don't look at her like that." "Like WHAT?" His grin is innocent. Mocking. "Can't help where me eyes go, can I? Natural instinct. See a pretty female, gotta APPRECIATE." "She's my WIFE." (pic:"ch04/squeeze.jpg","He gives my ass a casual slap.") "And YER me property." He gives my ass a casual slap.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.48),(a:80,0.30),(a:200,0.20),(a:380,0.12),(a:560,0.06),(a:740,0)))) "So, that makes her... what? Me property's property? Me ALMOST-property?" "That's not-" "Tell ye what." His voice drops to a whisper, just for me. "Ye shut yer mouth about where I look, or maybe I tell yer precious wifey what ye got up to last night. All that moanin' and groanin' in the hay while SHE was probably cryin' herself to sleep..." My blood runs cold. "Didn't THINK so." He pats my hip almost affectionately. "Now-keep walkin'. And maybe I'll keep me mouth shut about what happened in me hut last night."] I walk. I don't say another word. (hidden_gem:"The image burns in my mind: Elara, at home, sobbing into my empty pillow. And me, in Snib's hut, mindlessly pleasuring myself...","The image burns-branded behind my eyes forever: Elara weeping into my empty pillow while I writhed in a wretched warren, wantonly working my own wet flesh like some wild, witless thing.")(simple_option:"04 bank approach","You approach the bank.")

(hidden_gem:"The Eboncrest Bank rises before us-grey stone and iron bars. I've walked these steps a hundred times. Depositing bounty money. Saving for the future.","The Eboncrest Bank broods before us-bleak bastion of brass and iron bars, a building I once breezed through bearing bounties, banking on a brighter, bolder future.") For the life we were supposed to have. Mayor Bramble is coming down the steps as we approach. He freezes when he sees us. Sweats white. "Ah. Aldric. I mean-" He mops his forehead with a silk kerchief. "The... situation. Yes. I'm terribly sorry about... everything." He won't meet my eyes. Won't look at Snib. Won't acknowledge Elara. "Mayor." Fendril's voice comes from behind us. I didn't hear him approach. "A word?" "I really must be going. Council matters. Very pressing." Bramble is already backing away. "I wish I could do more. Truly. But my hands are..." He turns and FLEES down a side street. "What was THAT about?" Snib's eyes narrow. "Let's find out." Fendril's voice is carefully neutral, but I can see his jaw tighten. (pic:"ch04/bank.jpg","Inside, the bank is all polished marble and hushed voices.") Inside, the bank is all polished marble and hushed voices. A single teller sits behind iron bars: young, nervous, sweating through his collar. He's got papers spread before him. Official-looking papers with royal seals. And Fendril's identity parchment. The one that proves I'm Aldric. "Ah." The teller's voice cracks. "You're... you're here. About the account." "I want to withdraw ten thousand gold pieces." My voice doesn't shake much. "The verification is right there. I AM Aldric. Fendril confirmed it magically." The teller swallows. Glances at the papers. "Yes. The verification is... is valid. Your identity is confirmed." He pauses. "However..." "However WHAT?" Snib has climbed onto a bench to see over the counter. "She's got gold. She wants gold. GIVE her the gold." "It's not that simple, sir. When Master Aldric was reported missing three days ago, standard protocol was enacted." The teller's fingers tremble as he points to one of the sealed documents. "Any account holding more than five thousand gold pieces enters a thirty-day verification hold." The words don't make sense. Then they do. "Thirty DAYS?" "It's... it's to prevent claim fraud." The teller won't look at me. "Grave-robbing. Opportunistic theft. When an account holder goes missing, the Crown requires-" (pic:"ch04/bank angry.jpg","'I'm not MISSING! I'm right HERE!'") "I'm NOT missing!" My voice rises. Heads turn throughout the bank. "I'm RIGHT HERE!" "But you were DECLARED missing three days ago. The hold began then. It cannot be lifted until the full thirty days have passed. That's... that's banking law." Fendril steps forward. His voice is ice. "I provided magical verification. Soul-markers. PROOF of identity that cannot be falsified." "Yes, Master Fendril. And the verification will confirm identity at the end of the 30-day period." The teller gestures helplessly at the sealed documents. "But the hold is TIME-BASED. It cannot be overridden. Not by verification. Not by..." He swallows. "Not by anyone." "Bramble," Fendril breathes. "The mayor has no sway over the Gilded Charter, sir. This is the King's own decree." "What does this MEAN?" Snib's voice cuts through. "I want me gold. She's GOT gold. Why can't I HAVE it?" The teller looks at the goblin like he's seeing a nightmare come to life. "The account is frozen, sir. For thirty days. Nothing can be withdrawn except..." "WHY WOULD YE PUT GOLD IN ICE?!" Snib is on his feet now, fangs bared, spittle flying. "WHO FREEZES GOLD?! IT DON'T EVEN MELT! YE STUPID HUMIES AND YER STUPID-" "Except what?" Elara's voice cuts through Snib's tirade. "You said EXCEPT. Except what?" The teller checks his ledger. "Emergency disbursements. Living expenses." He clears his throat. "Up to fifty gold pieces. Per sennight." Fifty gold. *Per sennight.* "This is ABSURD." Fendril slams his palm on the counter. The teller jumps. "The verification is RIGHT THERE. You KNOW this is Aldric. You KNOW-" "I know, Master Fendril. I KNOW." The teller's voice breaks. "But I can't... the law is the law. If I release funds against a crown hold, I'll be thrown in the dungeons. My family-" "Then get me someone who CAN." "There IS no one. Not until the thirty days pass. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." "TRY HARDER!" Snib is pounding on the counter now. "Make her TRY HARDER! She's supposed to get me GOLD! Not EXCUSES!" I'm crying again. Can't help it. Fifty gold. That's what I can get. After everything, the transformation, the slavery, the humiliation, fifty gold. (change_stat:"gold",50)"Give me the fifty," I manage. "Just... give me what you can." The process takes forever. Forms to sign. Questions to answer. The teller's hands shake as he counts out coins: real gold, heavy and cold. He pushes them through the bars like they burn him. Fifty pieces. A pile that would have seemed like a fortune in my younger days. Now it's nothing. Fendril storms out without a word. I see his face, pale, tight, furious at something I don't understand. At himself, maybe. At whatever's really happening here. Through the bank's front window, across the square, I catch the mayor's study. Bramble sits at his desk, holding a letter over a candle flame and not burning it. Even at this distance I know the cream stock and blood-drop wax of a royal seal. He looks up and catches me watching. He locks the letter in a drawer and pulls the curtain. Somebody above Bramble wants this collar exactly where it is. Elara hasn't spoken. Her hands are clenched at her sides.(simple_option:"04 selling stuff","Leave the bank.")

We stumble out of the bank. The fifty coins weigh heavy in the pouch at my hip, a fortune that's NOTHING. Not even a drop in the ocean of what Snib demands. Snib reaches into the pouches at my waist. I've been carrying his "valuables" like I'm a pack animal. His claws rummage, pulling out- "Still got me shinies!" He holds up a tarnished brass ring set with what might be glass. "And me sparklies!" A broken comb missing half its teeth. A bent copper bracelet green with verdigris. A necklace of what looks like rat skulls strung on sinew. Elara stares at the collection. I watch her face crumble. "Those are..." She can't finish. "VALUABLES!" Snib clutches them protectively. "Got 'em off dead humies! And live ones! That ring there-" He points at the brass circle. "She was CRYIN' when I took it. Means it's IMPORTANT!" (hidden_gem:"Elara's laugh is the worst sound I've ever heard. High. Cracked.","Elara's laugh is the worst sound I've ever heard-high, hollow, hopeless, the hysterical howl of a heart finally, fully breaking.") The laugh of someone watching their world collapse into absurdity. (playwhenread:"i cant do this")"You're going to sell... RAT SKULLS... to pay off ten thousand gold." "Ye humies don't understand VALUE!" Snib sounds genuinely offended. "This is prime gobbo merchandise! Got BOOYAGH, these do!" "Booyagh," Elara repeats flatly. "MAGIC! POWER! SPARKLE!" Snib waves the broken comb like it's Whisperwind itself. "Any gobbo worth his seed-sacks would trade good shinies for this haul!" I watch my wife's face cycle through grief, rage, and finally- Exhaustion. "I can't do this," she whispers. Then, louder, already backing away: "I CAN'T. Fifty gold out of ten thousand, some BUREAUCRATIC, and he's waving rat skulls around talking about BOOYAGH and I just..."(simple_option:"04 elara leaves","Comfort her.")

"We can figure this out. We just need to wait thirty days-" "THIRTY DAYS." Her voice cracks. "Thirty days of you... of HIM... of..." She looks at Snib. At his hand on my hip. At the collar around my neck. At the body that used to be her husband. "I need to think." She's already turning. "There has to be another way. I'll... I'll talk to people. Find someone who can help. Maybe there's a way to break the hold, or-" "Elara, WAIT-" But she's gone. Walking fast. Then faster. Almost running. (hidden_gem:"I'm alone. With him.","I'm alone-abandoned, adrift, altogether at the mercy of the abominable little architect of all my anguish.") "Well." Snib tugs at my hip, adjusting his grip. "That went WELL. Yer wife's got a temper, don't she?" He grins up at me. "Reminds me of YOU. Before I broke ye in proper."(simple_option:"04 selling stuff go","Don't respond.","'I am NOT broken in.'","'She's SICK of you.'")

(if:$choice is "Don't respond.")[I don't respond. "RIGHT THEN!" He claps his hands together. "Market time! Got SHINIES to sell!" The guards, still following, still watching, exchange glances. "Lead on, cow-tits. And put some WIGGLE in it. Maybe someone'll pay extra if they like the VIEW."](if:$choice is "'I am NOT broken in.'")["I am NOT broken in." (change_stat:"heroism",1)Snib's grin doesn't falter. His hand twitches. Black metal COILS from the collar, that leash manifesting from nothing, the end slapping into his waiting palm. He YANKS. I fold forward. Can't help it. The collar DRAGS me down until my face is level with his, until his rotten breath washes over my lips. "Not broken, eh?" His tongue, grey-green, too long, WET, drags across my mouth. A slow, deliberate lick that leaves slime on my lips. I whimper. Can't stop it. The sound just comes out, high and FEMININE. Harwick turns away. The younger guard studies his boots. "Would ALDRIC let me do that?" Snib's voice is a purr. "Would the great HERO stand there and take a gobbo's spit on his pretty lips?" I can't answer. "Didn't THINK so." He releases the leash. It dissolves back into the collar like smoke. "Now-market time! Got SHINIES to sell! And ye'd better put some WIGGLE in them hips, bounce-bags. Maybe someone'll pay extra if they like the VIEW."](if:$choice is "'She's SICK of you.'")["She's SICK of you. We ALL are." Snib's eyes narrow. Then that horrible grin spreads. Black metal SPIRALS from my collar, the leash conjured from nothing. It lands in his palm with a soft clink. He YANKS. My body jackknifes forward. Tits swing. Hair falls in my face. And suddenly I'm bent double, nose-to-nose with the creature who owns me. "Sick of ME?" His breath is hot against my lips. "That's CUTE, tit-slave. Real cute." His tongue slithers out. Drags across my mouth. Slow. WET. Leaving a trail of goblin-spit from corner to corner. I whimper. The sound escapes before I can stop it. Harwick's jaw tightens. He looks away. The younger guard finds something fascinating on the ground. "Know what I think?" Snib's voice drops low. "I think yer wife ain't SICK of me. I think she's SCARED. Scared of how much she might LIKE what I could do to her." He licks my lips again. "Maybe I should show her. Give her a taste of what her husband's been enjoyin'." "Please-" "Please WHAT?" He releases the leash. It melts back into the collar. "Please MASTER. Say it." "...please, Master." "Better." He pats my cheek with a damp palm. "Now-market time! Got SHINIES to sell! And put some BOUNCE in them udders, cow-tits. Maybe someone'll pay to watch 'em JIGGLE."](simple_option:"04 market humiliation","Walk to the market.")

($play:'ambience','eboncrest ambience')($play:"song",0)The market square of Eboncrest sprawls before us: merchants hawking wares, children darting between stalls, the smell of fresh bread and horse dung mingling in the afternoon air. (hidden_gem:"I've walked these cobblestones a thousand times.","I've walked these cobblestones a thousand times-as champion, as customer, as comrade in commerce-and now I walk them collared and claimed, a creature of conquest rather than conquering, my heel-clicks counting out the cost of everything I've lost.") Bought apples from Old Marta's cart. Haggled with Henrik over leather prices. Shared ale with the blacksmith after a successful hunt. Now I walk them with a goblin's hand on my ass and fifty gold coins that might as well be copper. "STEP LIVELY!" Snib's voice carries. Heads turn. "Me pet here's got business to conduct!" The guards, Harwick and the younger one, follow at a distance. Their presence is the only thing keeping the crowd from... I don't know. Attacking? Fleeing? Both? "S'alright, folks!" The younger guard calls out, voice strained. "Town business! They are the mayor's protection!" Thank the Ephemerals the people still don't know who I am. Unfortunately, the guards do. First stop: Thom's butcher stall. I used to buy lamb from Thom every Solstice. He'd save me the good cuts. We'd talk about the weather, about hunting, about whether the winter would be hard. Now he stares at my chest like he's never seen breasts before. "I... can I help..." His voice trails off. His eyes don't. (pic:"ch04/bartering.jpg","'Sir, I'm a BUTCHER.'") "Me pet here's got merchandise!" Snib shoves past me, slapping his "treasures" onto the blood-stained counter. "PRIME goods! Shinies and sparklies! What'll ye give me?" Thom looks at the rat-skull necklace. The broken comb. The verdigris-crusted bracelet. "Sir, I'm a BUTCHER." "So? Ye got COIN, don't ye?" "I sell MEAT." "And I'm sellin' THESE!" Snib jabs a finger at the brass ring. "See that? REAL brass! Off a merchant's wife!" Thom's face goes pale. "I... I don't think I can help you, sir." "Fine! FINE!" Snib sweeps his treasures back into my pouches. "Yer loss! These're worth a FORTUNE where I come from! Stupid humie don't know booyagh when he sees it!" We move on. Next: Tessa's fabric stall. She used to mend my cloaks. Patient woman. Kind eyes. Once told me I reminded her of her son who'd gone off to be a soldier. Now those kind eyes travel down my body with an expression I can't read. "Well." Her voice is flat. "That's quite the... outfit." "Ye like her udders?" Snib cups my left breast through the scale-mail, hefting it. "Made 'em meself! Well, the COLLAR made 'em. But I picked the SIZE! Wanted somethin' I could really GRIP!" Tessa's face goes red. "Remove your hand from that woman." "She ain't a WOMAN, she's me PROPERTY!" But Snib releases me anyway, distracted. "NOW-ye interested in some quality merchandise? Got genuine gobbo artifacts here-" He dumps the treasures on her fabric bolts. Tessa stares at the rat skulls. "Get those OFF my silk." "But they're VALUABLE! Look at them little TEETH!" "They're RAT REMAINS." "CEREMONIAL rat remains! Got spiritual booyagh in 'em!" "I'll give you one copper to leave." Snib's face goes purple. "ONE COPPER? ONE thrakking-do ye KNOW what these're worth? I could buy THREE humie cunts with this haul back home! FOUR if they're ugly!" The guards step closer. "Perhaps," Harwick says quietly, careful not to upset Snib and cause more of a scene, "we should move along." We move along. The pattern repeats at every stall. The jeweler laughs outright at the brass ring. The antiquarian won't even touch the skull necklace. The general goods merchant offers two copper for the lot "out of pity for the poor woman." (change_stat:"gold",3)By the time we've circled the square, Snib has earned exactly three gold pieces, and those only because Old Marta, who sells apples and has terrible eyesight, thought the verdigris bracelet was "pretty green stone." "THREE GOLD!" Snib's voice cracks with rage. "Three thrakking GOLD for a FORTUNE in shinies!" "Master, these things... they're not valuable to humans." "NOT VALUABLE? Not-" He rounds on me, jabbing a finger at my chest. "Ye humies are STUPID! Ye put gold in ICE! Ye don't understand BOOYAGH! Ye got no TASTE for proper treasure!" "They're rat skulls-" "THEY ARE VERY NICE RAT SKULLS!" His hand whips out. *CRACK.*(playwhenread:"spank 1",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.70),(a:50,0.48),(a:130,0.35),(a:280,0.42),(a:400,0.28),(a:550,0.32),(a:700,0.18),(a:850,0.22),(a:1000,0.10),(a:1150,0.14),(a:1400,0.06),(a:1700,0)))) Palm against my ass. In public. In the market square of my home town. The sound ECHOES. Heads turn. Conversations stop. Someone gasps. My face burns. "Ye'd better figure out how to make these SELL!" Snib snarls. "Or I'll find other ways to earn me gold. Maybe yer WIFE would like to help instead." "Don't." The word tears from my throat. He grabs my collar. Yanks me down to his level. "I'll THINK whatever I want, cow-tits." His breath washes over my face. Rotten. Hot. "I'm the MASTER here. And yer the one who can't even sell a simple pile of shinies." He releases me. I stumble. The guards watch. The crowd watches. Everyone watches. My ass stings. My cheeks burn. And a three-foot goblin holds the world in his warty fist. "Market's a WASTE." Snib spits on the cobblestones. "Stupid humies and their stupid 'not valuable' and their stupid ICE-GOLD. Where's a gobbo supposed to get a DRINK in this thrakking town?"(simple_option:"04 silver stag","'The Silver Stag.'")

($play:'ambience','tavern')(pic:"ch04/silver stag.jpg")($play:"song",0) The Silver Stag crouches at the corner of Market Street and Ironmonger's Lane like it's been there since before streets had names. Timber and fieldstone, smoke-darkened beams, a stuffed stag's head above the door with glass eyes that seem to judge everyone who enters. I've walked through that door so many times. After hunts. After battles. After burying friends. Now my heel catches on the threshold and I nearly sprawl face-first into the sawdust. *CLOP-stumble-CLINK.* The scale-mail catches me, the breast-band cutting into my ribs as I pitch forward. I grab the doorframe with fingers that are too small, too soft, utterly *wrong*, and haul myself upright. Behind me, Snib cackles. "Graceful, cow-tits. REAL graceful." (hidden_gem:"The noise inside dies like a candle in a storm.","The noise inside dies-diminishes, dwindles, drains away into dead, dreadful, damning silence.") Forty faces turn. Forty expressions shift from evening relaxation to something harder. The Silver Stag on a regular night is rough men drinking rough drinks: miners, smiths, off-duty soldiers, merchants who've had a long road. The kind of crowd that Aldric could navigate in his sleep. Elise is something else. Forty pairs of eyes drop straight to my chest and stick there. And behind me, *waddling* through the door like he owns the place- "OI!" Snib's voice cuts through the silence like a rusty knife. "I want me FAVORITE drink! The... the BLUE one! With the BUBBLES!" He's making shit up. Trying to seem *worldly*. The barman, *Gorm*, my mind supplies, Gorm who served under Aldric's command at one time, Gorm whose leg I splinted after the cavalry charge, sets down the tankard he's polishing with deliberate slowness. "No greenskins." His voice is gravel on granite. "What's THAT?" Snib cups a warty hand to his ear. "Didn't catch that, humie. Speak UP." "I said-" Gorm's scarred face goes dark. "No. Greenskins. In. My. Establishment." The crowd stirs. Someone at a back table stands. Then another. I recognize faces: Henrik's boy, the one from the market. Old Thom who runs the leather stall. The blacksmith's apprentice, big as a barn door. "Guards said to let 'em through!" someone calls from near the door. That's Harwick's voice, but he sounds distant, overwhelmed. "Mayor's orders!" "Mayor ain't HERE," another voice growls. "And neither is Aldric, thanks to fucking GOBLINS!" The name hits like a crossbow bolt. *Aldric.* My eyes find the wall behind the bar. There, among the trophies and the mounted antlers and the faded paintings of hunts gone by, hangs a row of tankards. Regulars' tankards, kept on pegs. And third from the left- *ALDRIC THE GREAT* carved into the handle. "Heroes don't VANISH," Gorm says, and his voice has gone quiet and dangerous. "Not Aldric. Something happened to him. Something *green*." "Oi, that's GOOD wood!" Snib pipes up, apparently spotting the tankard too. He waddles forward, the crowd parting from him like he carries plague, and points. "That'd make a nice piss-pot, that would!" The crowd SNARLS. I should say something. I should *do* something. But my voice has abandoned me, my throat tight against the collar, and all I can do is stand here in my ridiculous armor while these men, men I *fought* beside, men I *saved*, look at me like I'm some goblin's- A tankard flies. *CLANG.* It catches Snib on the shoulder, splattering ale. He yelps, more surprise than pain, and the crowd surges forward. "GET THAT GREENSKIN-" "-for ALDRIC-" "-string him UP-" Harwick is shouting something. The younger guard is trying to push people back. But there are too many, the rage too hot, and somewhere in the chaos a hand grabs my breast, *squeezes*, releases before I can even scream- "ENOUGH." The voice cuts through the riot like a cleaver through fat. Everything stops. From the shadows of the corner booth, a shape rises. And rises. And keeps *rising*. (hidden_gem:"Thaddeus Greasegut Grimjaw unfolds from his seat like some vast, sweating nightmare hauling itself from a swamp.","Thaddeus Greasegut Grimjaw unfolds-gargantuan, grotesque, a greasy giant grudgingly greeting us, his girth grotesquely gleaming with sweat.") Rolls of fat spill over his straining belt. His fleshy face glistens with the permanent sheen of a man who hasn't seen sober in years. Small, piggish eyes squint through the haze of pipe smoke and spilled ale. I know this man. I *put* this man in chains. (playwhenread:"im sure theres a perfectly")"Now, now." Grimjaw's voice settles over the crowd like a heavy hand on a dog's skull. Everything goes still. "This fine goblin gentleman is under armed escort. Which means someone with a SEAL decided he belongs here." He lumbers forward, and the crowd parts for him too, but differently than they parted for Snib. They part the way men clear a path for something that eats what it steps on. "Besides-" His eyes travel down me. Slowly. "-anyone who walks through that door with THOSE deserves a drink before the hanging," he finishes, and his smile settles into his face like a knife into butter. Behind me, Snib's grip finds my hip. His claws dig in through the scale-mail.(simple_option:"04 grimjaw approach","Stay silent.","'Get away from us, Grimjaw.'")

(pic:"ch04/greasegut.jpg","right")(if:$choice is "'Get away from us, Grimjaw.'")[The name leaves my mouth before I can stop it. Grimjaw's piggish eyes go wide. Then narrow. Then- That *smile*. That spreading, rotting, delighted smile. (playwhenread:"well well well")"Ah." He takes a slow drink. Sets it down with the care of a man handling something fragile. "You know my name." He studies me the way a jeweler studies a stone before deciding where to cut. "That's INTERESTING. Because I pride myself on remembering every face worth remembering in this town, and I would certainly remember-" His gaze descends to my chest, lingers with frank appreciation, then returns to my face. "-yours." The crowd mutters. Heat rises in my face. *Stupid. STUPID.* How would some random goblin's slave know the name of Eboncrest's most notorious criminal? Unless- "Maybe ye met in a PREVIOUS life," Snib cackles, and his hand tightens on my hip. "Me pet here's got all SORTS of interesting history." His yellow eyes find mine, gleaming with malicious amusement. He's not going to tell. He's going to watch me *squirm*. Grimjaw leans in. His breath arrives before his words: sour wine and rotting teeth and underneath it all, a cloying sweetness like flowers on a grave. "Previous life." He rolls the words around like a man deciding whether to swallow or spit. His eyes find the collar at my throat. Stay there. He doesn't ask what it is. Men like Grimjaw recognize the GRAMMAR of ownership without needing the vocabulary. "Your master has fine taste." His gaze drops below the collar. "In *accessories.*" I say nothing. My jaw is clenched so tight my teeth ache. "Ah, she's the QUIET type!" Grimjaw booms, and claps a meaty hand on my shoulder. The weight of it makes my knees buckle slightly. "I LIKE that in a woman. Come, come. Let me buy you both a drink! Any enemy of *proper society*-" he gestures at the still-hostile crowd, "-is a friend of old Greasegut!"](else:)[I keep my mouth shut. Every instinct screams at me to stay small, stay silent, stay *invisible*. (hidden_gem:"Grimjaw studies me for a long moment. His small eyes are sharper than they have any right to be, buried in all that sweating flesh. I can almost see the wheels turning behind them.","Grimjaw studies me-those small, sharp, swine-shrewd eyes sunk deep in sweating folds of flesh, scheming behind their slits like serpents sizing up their supper.") "Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?" He chuckles, a wet sound. "That's alright. Plenty of time for talking." His gaze drops to the collar, lingers there. "That's OLD magic, that is. Pre-human, I'd wager." He looks at Snib. "Where'd you find such a *prize*, little friend?" "Found 'er in a HOLE!" Snib announces proudly. "Underground hole! Full of OLD stuff! She was just WAITIN' there for a proper master to come along!" "Is that so." Grimjaw's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Something FAMILIAR about you, girl. Can't quite put my finger on it." He taps his chin with a sausage-thick finger. "Well. No matter. Come, come. Let me buy you both a drink! Any creature that makes these *fine citizens*-" he sweeps an arm at the glowering crowd, "-so uncomfortable is a friend of old Greasegut!"] He herds us toward the corner booth like a shepherd with particularly reluctant sheep. His bulk creates a path through the crowd. Men who were ready to tear Snib apart moments ago now shrink back from Grimjaw's passage. I catch glimpses of faces. Disgust. Fear. But also *deference*. *When did he get so powerful?* I think, dimly. *He was nothing but a two-copper extortionist when we first met.* The booth is tucked into the darkest corner of the Silver Stag, away from the fire, away from the windows. The leather seats are cracked and stained with things I don't want to identify. Grimjaw slides into one side with a grunt, his belly pressing against the table edge. Snib scrambles up onto the opposite bench. Which leaves me standing. "Sit DOWN, cow-tits," Snib commands, patting the seat beside him. "Ye're makin' a SCENE." I slide in next to the goblin. The bench is too low, clearly made for human men, not women in ridiculous heeled boots, and my knees press up against the underside of the table. My tits rest on the wooden surface like they're being served on a platter. Grimjaw's eyes fix on them immediately. "GORM!" he bellows, not looking away from my chest. "Three of your finest! And keep 'em coming!" From across the tavern, Gorm's face is a mask of barely-contained fury. But he reaches for bottles anyway. Whatever hold Grimjaw has on this town, even the barman isn't immune. "Now then." Grimjaw settles back, wooden seat creaking dangerously. "Let's get *acquainted*."(simple_option:"04 grimjaw drinks","Endure the conversation.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/3.png")(pic:"ch04/silver stag sit.jpg") The drinks arrive in quick succession. Gorm sets them down without a word, his scarred face carefully blank, though I catch his eyes lingering on my collar before he retreats. "Ironwood stout!" Grimjaw announces, pushing a tankard of something black as pitch toward Snib. "Put hair on your balls, that will." He laughs at his own joke, belly wobbling. Snib sniffs it suspiciously. "Smells like TREES." "Pine-resin! Burns going down, warms the belly. Go on, try it!" Snib takes a sip. His face contorts through several expressions: disgust, surprise, something approaching pleasure. "S'not BAD," he admits. "Got KICK to it." "There's the face of a CONNOISSEUR." Grimjaw pushes a second tankard toward him. "Widow's Comfort. Honey mead. They call it that because half the widows in Eboncrest owe their FREEDOM to this bottle." He raises it toward me without looking. "No offence, sweetheart. I'm sure YOUR husband died heroically." My stomach isn't doing well. I take a sip of my own drink, something amber that burns, just to have something to do with my hands. "And THIS beauty-" Grimjaw produces a dark bottle with a flourish, "-is Thornback whiskey. Made from fermented thornberries, aged in charred oak. Reserved for *serious* drinkers." He pours three small glasses. "To new friendships!" Snib downs his in one gulp. Coughs. His eyes water. "HRUK! That's got some THRAKKING BOOYAGH in it!" "Don't know what that means, but I'll take it as a compliment!" Grimjaw is already pouring another round. "Now then, little friend. Tell old Greasegut about yourself. What brings a goblin and his..." his eyes slide to me, "*pet*... to our fair town?" "GOLD!" Snib announces, already reaching for the mead. "Ten thousand gold! That's what she OWES me!" Grimjaw's eyebrows rise into his sweating hairline. "Ten *thousand*? That's quite a sum." His piggish eyes fix on me with new interest. "How would a slave-girl have access to such wealth?" Snib's hand finds my thigh under the table. Squeezes. "She's got her WAYS," he says, with a grin that shows all his broken teeth. "Ain't that right, bounce-bags?" I nod, not trusting my voice. "Mysterious." Grimjaw seems delighted by this. He leans back, cradling his whiskey. "You know, I've always admired your kind." Snib blinks. "Ye WHAT?" "Goblins. Always admired them." Grimjaw takes a long drink. "See, folks around here would call you monsters. Vermin. But I've always seen something *honest* in your people." He gestures with his glass. "You see something you want, you TAKE it. No pretense. No courtship. No lies. Just..." his eyes find my chest again, "...*appetite*. There's something PURE about that." "Damn RIGHT there is!" Snib slaps the table. "Finally, a humie what GETS it!" "Oh, I get it." Grimjaw's smile spreads. "I get it very well indeed." He leans forward, voice dropping conspiratorially. "Tell me. Is it true what they say? About goblin... *breeding* practices?" Snib puffs up. "What do they SAY?" "That you keep women. Dozens of them. Breeding pens." Grimjaw *shivers*. "That you use them until they're *broken*, then trade them to other tribes. That a single goblin male can father hundreds of offspring if he's got enough..."-his eyes drop below the table-"...*equipment*." (hidden_gem:"My fingers itch for his windpipe.","I want to wrench across this table and wring Grimjaw's worthless windpipe, watch his wretched life wither and wane beneath my will.") I wrap them around the tankard instead. "Oh, that's all TRUE!" Snib is warming to his audience. "Back in me old tribe, before I struck out on me OWN, mind, we had us a proper warren! Twenty females, easy! Some of 'em human, some of 'em Telenil, even had a dwarf once!" He scratches his chin. "She was a SCREAMER, that one." "Fascinating." Grimjaw pours more whiskey. "And your pet here-" he nods at me, "-she satisfies your... *needs*?" Under the table, Snib's hand creeps higher on my thigh. I clench my jaw. "She's LEARNIN'," he says. "Bit stubborn at first. Thought she was TOO GOOD for a gobbo like me." His claws dig in through the scale-breeches. "Had to show her the TRUTH of things." "Ah, they always think they're too good at first." Grimjaw's voice has gone dreamy, remembering. "I had one like that once. Pretty little thing. Worked at the bakery on Temple Street." His eyes unfocus. "Thought she was too good to pay her father's debts. Thought being PRETTY meant rules didn't apply to her." *Jenna.* My blood runs cold. *He's talking about Jenna.* "So I took her out back." Grimjaw takes a long drink. "Right there in the alley behind the bakery. In the FILTH, where she belonged. Her daddy owed me forty silver and she was gonna work off every COPPER." I remember finding her. Barely conscious behind those flour sacks. "Course, that was before some HERO decided to stick his nose where it didn't belong." Grimjaw's voice goes hard. "Aldric the 'GREAT.' Saint fucking Aldric, savior of every slut too stupid to keep her legs closed." He spits on the floor. "Put me away for three years. THREE YEARS, for what? Teaching some jumped-up baker's daughter her PLACE?" Snib's eyes are on me. His grin widens. "This ALDRIC," he says, slowly. "He sounds like a real ARSEHOLE." "The WORST." Grimjaw drains his glass. "But he's GONE now, isn't he? Went into those mines and never came back. Some say the goblins got him." He raises his glass toward Snib. "To the goblins, then! For doing what I never could!" Snib cackles and clinks his tankard against Grimjaw's glass. My hands are shaking. I grip my drink to hide it. "You know..." Grimjaw is studying me again. "There's something about your pet, little friend. Something FAMILIAR. The way she holds herself. The way she looks at me like she wants to tear my throat out." He chuckles. "I've seen that look before." "Have ye NOW?" Snib's voice is silk over broken glass. "Mmm." Grimjaw's eyes narrow. "Can't quite place it. But I KNOW I've seen those eyes somewhere." He leans forward. "What's your name, sweetheart?" The table goes quiet. Snib's hand is on my thigh again. Amusement radiates off him like heat from a forge. He's not going to tell. He wants to watch me choose. He's fucking enjoying this. (if:(get_choice:"04 grimjaw approach","'Get away from us, Grimjaw.'"))[Grimjaw's smile widens. "You already knew my name, didn't you? Before anyone said it. HOW, I wonder?"](else:)[Grimjaw's smile widens. "Come now. I won't bite. Not unless you ASK nicely."](simple_option:"04 reveal choice","'You want to know who I am? I'm Aldric. I put you in that cell. And I'll do it again.'","Stay silent. Don't give him the satisfaction.","matters")

($play:'ambience','tavern')(if:$choice is "'You want to know who I am? I'm Aldric. I put you in that cell. And I'll do it again.'")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png")(change_stat:"heroism",1)(change_stat:"snib",1)Something snaps inside me. Maybe it's the whiskey. Maybe it's watching this pig reminisce about assaulting Jenna like it was a fond memory. Maybe it's three days of swallowing my pride and calling a three-foot goblin "Master." Whatever it is, I'm done. "You want to know who I am?" My voice comes out steady. Cold. "I'm Aldric." Grimjaw blinks. (playwhenread:"im the one")"I'm the one who found Jenna bleeding behind those flour sacks. I'm the one who dragged you out of that alley by your hair. I'm the one who BROKE YOUR ARM when you tried to run." I lean forward, and something of the old fire must show in my eyes because Grimjaw leans back. "I put you in that cell, Grimjaw. And when I get free of this collar, I'll do it AGAIN." Silence. Then Grimjaw starts to laugh. It builds slowly: a wheeze, a chortle, then a full-bellied roar that shakes his entire massive frame. Tears stream down his fleshy cheeks. He pounds the table with his fist, making the drinks jump. "ALDRIC!" he howls. "Aldric the GREAT! Saint fucking ALDRIC!" He gestures at my body: the tits, the hips, the collar. "And now LOOK at you! Sitting in MY booth, in MY town, as some goblin's FUCKTOY!" Snib is cackling too, listing slightly in his seat. The whiskey has loosened something in him, made his movements sloppier, his grin wider. "HARHARHAR! I was WONDERIN' when she'd crack!" "Oh, this is PRECIOUS." Grimjaw wipes his eyes. "The hero of Eboncrest." He reaches across the table and grabs one of my breasts through the scale-mail before I can react. SQUEEZES. "These are the tits of my NEMESIS! Oh, the GODS have a sense of humor!" I slap his hand away. The sound cracks through the tavern. Grimjaw only laughs harder. "Feisty! Still got some fight in you!" He settles back, still chuckling. "But tell me something, ALDRIC-" He says my name like it's the funniest joke he's ever heard. "-this collar. Is it PERMANENT? Are you stuck like this FOREVER?" "Till I get me GOLD," Snib announces, swaying slightly as he reaches for more whiskey. "Ten thousan'. Then maybe-MAYBE-I let her go." He grins at me, broken teeth gleaming. "Maybe." "Ten thousand gold." Grimjaw whistles low. "And if you DON'T get the gold?" "Then she stays MINE." Snib's voice goes hard despite the slur creeping into it. "Forever and EVER. Me personal cocksleeve." Grimjaw shudders. Actually *shudders*. "Beautiful," he breathes. "Absolutely BEAUTIFUL." His piggish eyes find mine, bright with malice. "And what about that pretty little wife of yours? Elara, wasn't it? The herbalist?" He grins. "She must be LOVING this. Her big strong husband turned into-" He waves at my chest. "-THIS. Bet she can't WAIT to watch you get mounted by your new master." The words hit like a blade between the ribs. "Don't you DARE-" "Oh, I'm not gonna DO anything." Grimjaw raises his hands in mock innocence. "I'm just IMAGINING. Poor sweet Elara. Waiting at home. Wondering where her hero went." He leans forward. "And then he comes BACK. Only he's not a hero anymore. He's a big-titted breeding sow for a three-foot GOBLIN." Snib cackles, nearly spilling his drink. "She CRIED! Ye shoulda SEEN her face!" "I BET she did!" Grimjaw is wiping tears again. "Oh, this is too GOOD. The great Aldric, brought low. And his WIFE gets to watch!" His meaty hand shoots across the table again. This time I'm not fast enough. *WHAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.58),(a:100,0.35),(a:220,0.42),(a:340,0.25),(a:480,0.30),(a:620,0.18),(a:760,0.22),(a:900,0.12),(a:1100,0.08),(a:1300,0)))) He slaps my tit. Open-palmed. Hard enough to send it bouncing sideways into its twin. The impact makes a wet *clap* that echoes through the whole tavern. "ALDRIC!" he bellows, laughing as my breast wobbles. "Remember when you broke my arm? Remember how I SCREAMED?" *WHAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.56),(a:100,0.34),(a:220,0.40),(a:340,0.24),(a:480,0.28),(a:620,0.16),(a:760,0.20),(a:900,0.10),(a:1100,0.06),(a:1300,0)))) The other one. Left-handed. My tits crash together and separate, jiggling wildly. "This is REVENGE, you sanctimonious CUNT!" *WHAP. WHAP. WHAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.55),(a:400,0.52),(a:800,0.58),(a:1000,0.38),(a:1150,0.44),(a:1300,0.28),(a:1450,0.32),(a:1600,0.18),(a:1800,0.10),(a:2000,0)))) He's slapping them like drums now, alternating hands, making them bounce and swing and collide. Each impact sends shockwaves through my chest. The scale-cups can barely contain them. I grab at his wrists but his arms are like tree trunks, meaty, heavy, impossible to move. "Go ON then!" Snib urges, nearly falling off his seat with laughter. "Give 'em a good WALLOP! She can take it!" *WHAP. WHAP.* "Look at them GO!" Grimjaw crows. "Best tits in Eboncrest and they belong to the man who put me in a CELL!" "STOP!" I finally wrench backward, breaking his grip. My chest is heaving, my face burning, my slapped breasts aching inside their metal cups. Grimjaw settles back, still chuckling, flexing his meaty fingers. "Still got some fight. I LIKE that." He pours more whiskey, his hand only slightly unsteady. "But let me tell you something, ALDRIC. Whatever you were? That's GONE now. You're not a hero anymore. You're not even a MAN." His eyes drop to my chest, still bouncing from my ragged breathing. "You're a set of holes attached to the biggest pair of tits I've ever seen. And I'm going to ENJOY watching what happens next." Snib tugs at my arm, pulling me back down onto the bench. "Settle DOWN, cow-tits. Ye've had yer fun." But his yellow eyes are gleaming with satisfaction. He LOVED this. Me revealing myself, being mocked, being *reduced*. "So." Grimjaw leans forward again, voice dropping conspiratorially. "Have you FUCKED her yet?" The question hangs in the smoky air. "Has the great ALDRIC-" Grimjaw savors each word, "-the hero of Eboncrest, the slayer of monsters, the rescuer of MAIDENS-" He pounds the table, making my tits bounce where they've settled on the wood. "-has he been FUCKED by goblin cock?" Snib grins that horrible grin. "I'm a patient gobbo, me. I like to break 'em in SLOW." His clawed hand finds my thigh under the table. Squeezes. "She's been... *warming up* to the idea." "Excellent. EXCELLENT." Grimjaw claps his hands together. "Oh, you simply MUST. A prime piece of meat like this-" he gestures at me with his glass, "-needs to be FUCKED. Hard and often. Until there's nothing left of Aldric but a mewling little breeding-bitch who BEGS for it." "That's the PLAN," Snib slurs, reaching for more whiskey and nearly missing the glass. "Picture it," Grimjaw continues, eyes going dreamy. "Those big tits swinging. That fat ass in the air. That LOOK on her face-" he shivers with delight, "-when she realizes what's HAPPENING to her. When the hero of Eboncrest finally understands that she's just a HOLE to be FILLED." I want to reach across this table and crush his windpipe. Instead, I take another drink. It burns going down, but it's better than screaming. The conversation drifts. More drinks are poured. Snib is swaying now, his movements slower, his laugh louder. Grimjaw tells stories of his criminal enterprises, things that would have had me reaching for my sword months ago. Now I just sit, dead-eyed, as he describes protection rackets and "special arrangements" with merchants' daughters. "-had her right there in the alley, I did," he's saying, waving his whiskey expansively. "Behind the tanner's shop. She owed me sixty silver and thought she could pay in PROMISES." He laughs wetly. "Her moans echoed off the walls so loud I thought the whole street would come running!" Beside me, Snib shifts. The pressure comes before the sight. Under the table, his bulge presses against my thigh, hot and thick and *growing*. "Ye know," Snib says, voice thick with drink and NEED, "all this talk of MOANIN' is gettin' me worked up." Grimjaw's eyes flick to the goblin, then to me. That predatory smile returns. "Is it NOW?" "Mmm." Snib's hand slides up to grip my hip. Hard. "Me balls is ACHIN'. All this stress. All this thrakkin' FRUSTRATION." His claws dig in through the scale-mail. "Need to take the EDGE off." The collar pulses against my throat. A reminder. A *warning*. "Well, well." Grimjaw leans back, spreading his meaty arms across the booth. "Don't let ME stop you." Snib turns to me. His yellow eyes are glassy from drink but no less demanding. "Yer gonna FIX this, cow-tits. RIGHT now." He grabs his loincloth, adjusting the massive bulge straining beneath. "Get me somewhere PRIVATE and make this ache go AWAY." "Master-" My voice cracks. "-please, not here-" "Then SOMEWHERE." He slides out of the booth, wobbling slightly. Tugs me after him. "Where do humies go when they need to... to DO things? Away from other humies?" "The back room," Grimjaw supplies helpfully, grin spreading. "Down the hall. Last door on the left." His eyes find mine, gleaming with anticipation. "Rather *intimate* space. Perfect for... BUSINESS." Snib grunts. "Right then. MOVE, bounce-bags."](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/6.png")(hidden_gem:"I clench my jaw. Swallow my rage. Take another drink.","I clench my jaw, choke down the churning, caustic fury, and clutch my cup like a condemned man clasping his last earthly comfort.") (change_stat:"heroism",-1)"Just a slave," I manage. "Nobody important." "Mmm." Grimjaw doesn't look convinced. His piggish eyes linger on my face a moment longer. "Well. No matter. Plenty of time to figure it out." He turns back to Snib, pouring another round of that whiskey. "Tell me, friend. This pet of yours." Grimjaw gestures at me with his glass. "She broken in yet? Or still got some fight left?" "Oh, she's got PLENTY of fight." Snib's hand finds my thigh again under the table. Squeezes. "That's half the FUN, innit? Breakin' 'em slow." "Slow." Grimjaw nods sagely, like they're discussing wine vintages. "I can respect that. Though personally?" His eyes travel down to my chest, where my tits rest on the table like offerings. "With a set like THAT, I'd hardly be able to resist. I'd just go for it." "Ye would, would ye?" Snib sounds amused. "Look at her." Grimjaw makes a framing gesture with his fat fingers. "Those udders alone... And that WAIST. That ASS I saw when she walked in." He shudders with apparent pleasure. "She's fucking PRIME, little friend. Prime breeding stock." I stare at the table and imagine driving Grimjaw's face through it. "Know what I'd love to see?" Grimjaw leans forward conspiratorially. "That pretty face of hers. That ANGRY look she keeps giving me. The way her lip curls up like she thinks she's better than everyone in this room." His voice drops to a hungry whisper. "I'd love to see that face while she's getting MOUNTED. Bent over, ass in the air, that FIRE in her eyes turning to something else as she realizes-" He mimes a thrusting motion. "-that her body doesn't give a SHIT what her pride thinks." "HRUK!" Snib cackles. "Ye've got a way with words, fat man!" "I've had practice." Grimjaw drains his glass. "Had a girl once, worked at the cobbler's, thought she was too GOOD for her circumstances. Had that same look your pet has. All defiance and fury." He smiles at the memory. "Took her out back of this very tavern. Right there in the alley. Showed her what that pride was worth." My hands are shaking. I grip my drink harder. "By the end she was BEGGING." Grimjaw's voice has gone dreamy. "Not to stop, mind you. To keep GOING. Funny how that works. The body knows what it wants even when the mind's still catching up." "That's the TRUTH, that is." Snib nods vigorously. "Me pet here, her body's ALREADY on board. Should smell her when-" He stops himself, grinning. "Well. That'd be TELLIN'." Grimjaw laughs that greasy laugh. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, eh? I like you, little goblin. You've got CLASS." They clink glasses again. Snib is getting visibly looser, his words slightly slurred, his yellow eyes glassy. The whiskey hits him different than whatever mushroom-rot he's used to drinking. "Ye know what the word is?" Snib leans in, one eye closed. "In Goblish? For a female what's... what's READY but don't know it yet?" "Do tell." "THRACKTA-GRULZ." Snib pronounces it carefully. "Means... mmm... 'cunt-what-needs-filling.' But like... SPECIFICALLY a cunt that don't REALIZE it needs filling yet. The best KIND." "Thrackta-grulz," Grimjaw repeats, savoring the word. "I like it. Very... *efficient*." "That's the thing about Goblish!" Snib slaps the table. "We got words for EVERYTHING. Ye humies dance around things. All yer 'please' and 'thank ye' and 'may I.' We just SAY what we MEAN." "A philosophy I can appreciate." Grimjaw's eyes slide to me again. "And your thrackta... grulz? How close is she to... *realizing*?" "Closer every day." Snib's hand is creeping higher on my thigh. His claws dimple the scale-mail. "She's already LEAKIN' half the time. Can't help herself. Her body KNOWS what it's for, even if her stubborn brain's still fighting." I want to object. To deny it. Heat builds between my legs. Wetness begins despite everything. This disgusting, degrading conversation about my body like I'm livestock shouldn't be affecting me. But it IS. The collar hums at my throat. "Ye know what?" Snib shifts in his seat. His voice has gone thick. "All this TALK is gettin' me worked up." His hand withdraws from my thigh, but only to adjust something under the table. Under his loincloth. "Me balls are fuckin' ACHIN', bounce-bags." Grimjaw's grin spreads wide. "Is that so?" "All them humies wantin' to kill me." Snib's breath is coming faster. "All this GOLD I can't get at yet. And sittin' here listenin' to ye talk about cunts what need fillin'..." He shifts again. I catch a glimpse of green flesh beneath his loincloth. "I need to NUT." "Well." Grimjaw gestures expansively toward the shadowed archway. "The Slops are right through there. If your pet needs to... *drain* you." Snib turns to me. His yellow eyes are glassy with whiskey and that NEED I've seen before. The collar pulses against my throat. Just... present. "Ye heard the man, cow-tits." His voice is thick. "Back room. NOW." "Master, please-" I start. "I need me tension relieved, and YE'RE gonna do it." His hand finds my wrist. Squeezes hard enough to hurt. "Unless ye want me to bend ye over this TABLE and let yer new friend here WATCH?" Grimjaw's eyebrows rise with delighted interest. "Oh, I wouldn't mind that at ALL." "No!" The word tears out of me. "No. I'll... I'll go." "Good GIRL." Snib releases my wrist. "Ye know the way. Find us somewhere PRIVATE." I slide out of the booth. My legs are unsteady: the drinks, the heels, the horror of what's about to happen. Grimjaw watches me go with that knowing smile, raising his glass in mocking salute. "Don't take too long, sweetheart," he calls after me. "Your master and I have more to discuss!" Snib's waddle behind me is audible. *Clop-clop-clop* go my heels. *Slap-slap-slap* go his bare feet on the wooden floor. Every eye in the tavern follows us: the big-titted slave and her goblin master, heading toward the back rooms together. The whispers start before we're even out of the main room. "-can't believe she's letting him-" "-like a dog following its master-" "-probably LIKES it, dressed like that-" I find the door to the back hall. My hand trembles on the handle.](simple_option:"04 back room","Enter the room.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/1.png")($play:'ambience','tavern stall')(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.05,"amplitude",0.03,"periodMs",3400,"forever",true))(hidden_gem:"The back room of the Silver Stag smells like decades of spilled ale, old piss, and something worse. A single tallow candle gutters in a wall-sconce, casting shadows that make the cramped space feel like a pit.","The back room stinks of stale spills and ancient sin-a single sputtering candle casting its sickly glow across a space more sepulchre than storeroom, more squalid pit than sanctuary.") Snib waddles past me and hops up onto a low wooden bench against the wall, one meant for changing boots, now serving as his throne. At three-foot-eight, perched up there, his yellow eyes are almost level with mine. Almost. *THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.* Someone pounds on the door behind us. "Oi! How long you gonna BE in there?" "Piss off!" Snib bellows. "OCCUPIED!" The pounding stops. Grumbling retreats. And then we're alone. The candlelight catches his face: that broken-toothed grin, those crusted nostrils, the warts clustering around his jaw like barnacles on a ship's hull. His yellow eyes are glassy from the whiskey, but no less sharp. "Right then." He spreads his stubby legs wide on the bench. The movement makes his loincloth shift, and I see the underside of his ballsack *drop* over the bench's edge like two overripe plums escaping a sack. "Me balls are fuckin' ACHIN', bounce-bags." My throat tightens. "Master, maybe we should get back to Fendril. He said he needed to examine the collar again, and perhaps he can help with the gold situation-" "Fendril can WAIT." Snib adjusts himself, and I watch the tent in his loincloth *twitch*. "Me NUTS can't." "The guards are expecting us. If we're gone too long, Harwick might-" "HARWICK-" He cuts me off with a wet burp. "Ye think I give a thrakkin' SHIT about guards?" He leans back against the wall, arms behind his head like he's settling in for a nap. The posture makes his loincloth ride up. I can see the *root* of something now: a thick green column disappearing under tattered cloth. I look away. My face burns. (playwhenread:"we shouldnt waste time when")"Master, please. We've made progress today. The bank, Fendril, establishing my identity. We shouldn't waste time when-" "TIME?" His laugh is phlegmy. "Time is all ye GOT, cow-tits. Thirty days of it. And I've been draggin' these backed-up bollocks around all DAY while ye played hero with yer humie friends." He gestures at his crotch. "Look at 'em. Go on. LOOK." I don't want to look. I *look*. The loincloth isn't hiding much anymore. His balls have settled fully over the bench's edge now, each one the size of my closed fist, the scrotal skin stretched drum-tight around them, dark green and *pulsing* with visible veins. They look HEAVY. Engorged. The kind of backed-up that makes even goblin cock uncomfortable. And above them, the tent. The SHAPE of it. Even soft, and it's clearly not fully soft anymore, the outline straining against the cloth is... "I could..." I search desperately for alternatives. "I could leave, and you could-" "Leave?" His grin splits wider. "NAH." He gestures at the door. "Them humies out there already want to gut me. Ye think I'm gonna sit here with me dick out while ANY of 'em might burst in?" He has a point. "Besides-" He leans forward, and I smell him, that MUSK, concentrated in the small space, hitting me like a slap. "-I seen how ye look at it. When ye think I ain't watchin'. Yer eyes go right to the bulge." "I do NOT-" "Ye DO." He's still grinning. "Collar tells me all sorts of things, bounce-bags. Including when yer pretty little cunt starts DRIPPIN'." My face flames. "That's not- the collar doesn't-" "Ye sure about that?" I'm not sure. I'm not sure about anything anymore. Snib settles back again, utterly relaxed, like we're discussing the weather. His loincloth is *moving* now: slight twitches as whatever's underneath continues to swell. I can see the outline of the head, blunt and fat, pressing against the cloth. "Here's how it's gonna work," he says. "Now-" He spreads his hands. "-I ain't gonna MAKE ye touch me." Hope flickers. "I just need to NUT, is all." He shrugs, almost REASONABLE. "Been backed up since yesterday. Balls are ACHIN' somethin' fierce." His hand cups the bulge through his loincloth, the MASS of it, twin orbs the size of my FISTS pressing against the fabric. "So here's what's gonna happen." He pulls his loincloth down another inch. The HEAD emerges. Purple. Swollen. Bigger than my THUMB. A bead of something yellowish-white is already WEEPING from the slit, and as I watch, it STRETCHES into a glistening strand that drops to the bench between his thighs. *PLOP.* "Ye can use that-" He jerks his chin toward a stained rag hanging from a nail. "-or ye can use yer HANDS proper. Don't matter to me." I stare at the rag. Grey. Crusty with old-with something I don't want to identify. "If ye use the rag," he continues, "this is just... cleanin' up, like. Helpin' out yer MASTER with a problem. No gold off yer debt." The collar throbs. "But if ye use them pretty fingers..." His grin spreads. Broken teeth. Yellow eyes GLEAMING in the lamplight. "If ye TOUCH me proper, like a good little slave-cunt should... I'll knock FIVE HUNDRED gold off what ye owe." Five hundred. *Five hundred gold.* That's five hundred gold I wouldn't need to pay him, once my bank account is unfrozen. *But it would mean I have to TOUCH him.* Outside, I hear voices. Tavern-goers passing in the hall. Someone tries the door. RATTLE RATTLE. Then moves on with a muttered curse. "Tick-tock, cow-tits." Snib pulls his loincloth down FULLY. His cock SPRINGS free.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:400,0.16),(a:800,0.22),(a:1200,0.18),(a:1600,0.14),(a:2000,0.10),(a:2400,0.06),(a:2800,0),"resumeAfter",true))) And I- *Oh gods. Seeing it from this angle...* It's thick as my WRIST where it meets his body, and it CURVES upward like a weapon. The head is purple-dark and GLISTENING, the foreskin half-retracted, the shaft mapped with veins that THROB visibly with each beat of his black little heart. The smell DOUBLES. TRIPLES. My head SWIMS. "Well?" He strokes himself once. Lazily. The motion makes that monster FLEX, and pre-cum SPURTS from the tip, a full ROPE of yellowish slime that SPLATS onto the floor between my heeled boots. "What's it gonna be, hero? Rag..." He glances at the crusty cloth. "...or SKIN?" I should refuse. I should tell him to go FUCK himself. I should- But Elara's face swims in my memory. The way she LOOKED at me. The way she tried to KILL him and nearly killed ME. *Thirty days. Thirty days until the gold is free. Every bit helps.* I look at the door. I can hear muffled voices from the tavern beyond. Guards waiting to escort us. Elara at home, wondering what we're doing. *Elara.* (pic:"ch04/hj position.jpg","If I do this... if I touch him...") If I do this... if I touch him... I'm cheating. I'm *cheating on my wife*. But the collar pulses around my neck, reminding me of my place. It's not going to let me refuse completely. The cloth is a barrier. A choice I can make to be MORE faithful.(simple_option:"04 hj choice","Use the cloth.","Use your hands.","matters")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)(if:$choice is "Use the cloth.")[The word comes out strangled. "The... the cloth." Snib LAUGHS. A LOW, knowing chuckle. The laugh of a man who's already won. (change_stat:"heroism",-1)"The CLOTH." He wipes a tear from one warty eye. "Course ye want the cloth. Can't have the great HERO actually TOUCHIN' gobbo cock, can we?" He gestures at the stained rag. "Go on then. Fetch it like a good bitch." I turn. The rag lies crumpled on the floor. More grey than white. Crusty. I don't want to know what those stains are. I take it. When I turn back, Snib has spread his legs WIDER. His cock is fully free now, jutting up from his lap like a crooked siege-tower. From this distance, standing, I can see the SHEEN of precum coating the head, the way his balls are CHURNING visibly in their sack. "Well?" He strokes himself once, just once, and the motion makes his whole shaft FLEX. "Get DOWN here, cow-tits. Can't reach from up THERE." I have to squat. In these THRAKKING heels. The scale-breeches are already cutting into my ass as I bend my knees, lowering myself. My tits SHIFT in the breast-band, threatening to spill. The metal cups BITE my underboob as gravity pulls everything DOWN. My hair falls forward, brushing my shoulders, threatening to dangle into the- *Don't think about it. Just DO it.* (hidden_gem:"I sink lower. And lower. Until my face is level with his cock.","I sink-slowly, shamefully, surrendering to gravity and servitude-lower and lower still, until my face finds itself fixed before the foul, throbbing font of my subjugation.") *Oh, gods.* Up close, it's WORSE. So much worse than I realized. The shaft is mapped with veins thick as earthworms, PULSING with each beat of his heart. The foreskin is half-retracted, bunched up behind a head that's PURPLE and swollen and WET- And the SMELL. It hits me like a physical blow. Mushroom-rot and copper and something ELSE, something ANIMAL. My nostrils FLARE involuntarily and I immediately regret it. The stench POURS down my throat, coats my tongue, settles into my sinuses like it BELONGS there. (pic:"ch04/cock closeup.jpg","A bead of yellowish fluid wells up from his slit. I watch it GROW, trembling on the tip like a tear about to fall.") *That's pheromones. That's-* A bead of yellowish fluid wells up from his slit. I watch it GROW, trembling on the tip like a tear about to fall. *PLOP.* It drops onto the bench between his thighs. Where it lands, it doesn't spread. It just sits there. THICK. Gelatinous. *If that gets on me-* My hands are shaking as I hold up the cloth. "Ye gonna STARE all night?" Snib's voice is amused. CASUAL. Like I'm taking too long with a simple chore. "Wrap it round and get GOIN'." I reach forward. The heat hits my fingers BEFORE I make contact, radiating off his shaft like a forge. The cloth touches GREEN flesh and he TWITCHES underneath. A wet sound. A GURGLE from somewhere in his balls. I wrap. The cloth goes around once. Twice. My fingers meet on the other side, and I'm touching MYSELF through the fabric, which makes it WORSE. The barrier is so thin. So NOTHING. Every ridge, every vein, every THROB of that monster comes through the grey rag. Snib GRUNTS. The sound is guttural. SATISFIED. And his cock JUMPS in my grip, LURCHES sideways like a snake trying to escape. I almost drop it. "Thassit," he breathes. "Fuck. Yeah. Now MOVE, bitch." My hands start to shake harder. I close my eyes- *I can't do this with my eyes closed. I'll lose my grip and then-* I open them. His cock is RIGHT THERE. The head is POINTING at my face, six inches away, that purple knob WINKING at me through the crusted foreskin- *RATTLE RATTLE.* Someone tries the door. "OI! Anyone DEAD in there?" "FUCK OFF!" Snib bellows, and his cock FLEXES with the force of his shout, SWELLS in my grip. "We're BUSY!" Footsteps retreat. But not far. *They're waiting right outside. They can probably HEAR-* "MOVE." I start to stroke.(simple_option:"04 hj","Start pumping.")](else:)[Five hundred gold. That's what keeps echoing in my skull as I stand frozen, staring at the *thing* jutting from between Snib's legs. Five hundred gold knocked off a ten-thousand gold debt. That's... that's *something*. That's progress. That's- *That's my hands. On his cock.* "Well?" Snib's voice is thick with drink and anticipation. "What's it gonna be, hero-cunt?" My mouth opens. Closes. (change_stat:"heroism",-3)(change_stat:"gold",500)(change_stat:"snib",2)"The... the five hundred," I hear myself say. The words leave my mouth like pulling teeth. "I'll... I'll use my hands." Snib's broken-toothed grin splits wider. "HRUK-HRUK-HRUK!" His laugh bounces off the cramped walls. "Knew ye couldn't resist touchin' it! Been WANTIN' to, ain't ye?" "That's not-" "Shut yer cock-holster and get DOWN here." He spreads his stubby legs wider on the bench, and his balls *swing* with the motion, heavy, pendulous, CHURNING with whatever foulness he's been backing up. "Ye want yer gold, ye EARN it proper." *BANG BANG BANG* The door rattles. "Hey! Some of us need to PISS out here!" "FUCK OFF!" Snib bellows. Then, softer, to me: "Better work fast, titcow. Don't want yer townies seein' their hero on her knees for gobbo cock, do ye?" My legs feel like they belong to someone else as I sink down. I'm *squatting*, my heeled boots forcing me into this ridiculous position, thighs spread for balance, ass jutting out behind me. The breast-band digs into my ribs as I lean forward. My massive tits *swing* with the motion, hanging heavy, threatening to spill from the metal cups. And now I'm *level* with it. *Gods help me.* Up close, it's worse. SO much worse. The shaft is mottled green-and-purple, mapped with veins thick as earthworms, the skin waxy, almost scaled, like he's been marinating in his own filth for decades. The foreskin is half-retracted around a head the color of a bruised plum, and from the slit, a continuous ROPE of yellowish pre-cum oozes, stretching down toward the floor in a glistening strand. The SMELL hits me in waves. Mushroom-rot and backed-up musk and something ELSE, something that makes my nostrils flare and my- *No. Don't think about that.* (pic:"ch04/cock closeup.jpg","'Ye gonna stare at it all night?'") "Ye gonna stare at it all night?" Snib's clawed hand finds my hair, tangles in it. "Or ye gonna DO somethin' about it?" I raise my hands. They're shaking. My fingers hover inches from his shaft, and the HEAT radiates off it, searing like a forge. This is it. The moment I become something I can never un-become. *TWITCH.* His cock LURCHES sideways and *SLAPS* against my hovering fingers. I JOLT backward like I've been burned. "Ah-!" "HRUK! Jumpy little cunt, ain't ye?" Snib's grin is *vicious*. "Go on. It ain't gonna bite. Well-" His pupils blow wide, coin-bright in the dimness. "-not YET." *BANG BANG.* "Hurry UP in there!" Muffled voice from the hall: "-saw her go in there with that fucking GOBLIN-" Another voice: "-probably his WHORE or something-" Blood rushes to my cheeks so fast my ears ring. My jaw clenches. With a snarl that comes out as a whimper, I reach out and WRAP MY FINGERS AROUND SNIB'S COCK.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.14),(a:200,0.24),(a:400,0.32),(a:600,0.28),(a:800,0.26),(a:1000,0.30),(a:1200,0.26),(a:1400,0.24),(a:1600,0.22),"resumeAfter",true))) "Nnnngh-!" The grunt that escapes me is involuntary. The heat. *Gods*, the HEAT. Fever-hot cock in my hand, slick with whatever natural grease goblins produce, pulsing *thump-thump-thump* against my palm like a second heartbeat. He's so THICK my fingers can barely close around him, and there's more shaft above my grip, more below. I'm only holding maybe half of the fucking thing. "That's IT, cow-tits." Snib's voice has gone thick. Breathy. "Now MOVE them pretty fingers."(simple_option:"04 hj","Start stroking.")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/5.png")($play:"sex loop","handjob")(if:$choice is "Start pumping.")[(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.06,"amplitude",0.03,"periodMs",800,"forever",true))(pic:"ch04/hj cloth.jpg") The motion is ALIEN. I've never done this to anyone but myself, and that was with different equipment. My grip is uncertain, my rhythm stuttering. The cloth bunches and slides. I keep readjusting- "Tighter," Snib orders. "And TWIST at the top. Like yer wringin' out a dishrag." I do it.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.12,"peakTo",0.20,"baseFrom",0.05,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",800,"intervalTo",580,"attackMs",65,"sustainMs",35,"releaseMs",80,"rampBeats",20,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.30,"depthJitter",0.10)) The motion makes his cock FLEX again, and this time, something WET seeps through the cloth. *Oh, gods. It's leaking THROUGH.* "S'funny," Snib's voice is conversational now. He's leaning back against the wall, watching me with those yellow eyes, completely at EASE while I kneel here in my heels with his breeding-club in my hands. "I bet ye'd joke with yer humie friends. About GOBLINS. About what ye'd DO to us if ye caught us." I say nothing. Just keep stroking. The wet patch on the cloth is SPREADING. "Now look at ye." His hand reaches down and FLICKS my nipple through the breast-band. The metal RINGS and my whole body JOLTS.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:50,0.28),(a:130,0.18),(a:250,0.10),(a:400,0),"resumeAfter",true))) "Them same hands what killed so many of me KIND... wrapped round me cock like a good little slave-slut." (if:(get_choice:"04 grimjaw drinks","'You want to know who I am? I'm Aldric. I put you in that cell. And I'll do it again.'"))["Wonder what that fat pig Grimjaw would say if he could see ye NOW," Snib muses, grabbing a fistful of my hair to make me look UP at him. "Ye were all BRAVE in there, weren't ye? Tellin' him who ye REALLY are." He yanks harder. "But here ye are. Aldric the GREAT. On yer KNEES. Workin' me SHAFT." His grin spreads. "Bet he's out there RIGHT now, tellin' everyone. And ye know what they're gonna think when ye walk out with yer hands smellin' like GOBBO COCK?" My face BURNS. Tears prick at my eyes. SHAME. "They're gonna KNOW," Snib continues, almost tenderly. "That the hero of Eboncrest... is just a big-titted seed-trough for a little gobbo."](else:)["Lucky ye didn't tell that fat bastard who ye really ARE," Snib muses. "Cause imagine-IMAGINE-if Grimjaw knew. That the woman jerkin' me off... used to be his NEMESIS." He laughs wetly. "He'd probably want to WATCH. Probably get his fat cock out and JOIN IN." I gag at the thought. My hands stutter on his shaft. "Oh, ye DON'T like that idea?" Snib sounds delighted. "Maybe I should've TOLD him then. Could've had TWO cocks to work. One in each hand. Wouldn't THAT be somethin'?"] *BANG BANG BANG.* The door SHUDDERS. "WE'RE WAITING!" An angry voice. Multiple footsteps now. My hands are TREMBLING. The cloth is almost entirely WET now, soaked through with his pre-slop, and the HEAT of his shaft presses directly against my palms through the saturated fabric. "Speed it UP," Snib growls. The playfulness is gone.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.20,"peakTo",0.30,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",340,"attackMs",45,"sustainMs",25,"releaseMs",55,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.08)) His claws dig into my scalp. "I'm gettin' CLOSE and ye're gonna make me NUT before them humies break down the door." I stroke FASTER. The sounds are OBSCENE now. WET. SQUELCHING. Each stroke makes his cock GURGLE, fluid churning up from his balls with every motion. "Yeah... YEAH..." Snib's breathing is getting HEAVIER. His balls TIGHTEN against my wrists, drawing up like they're LOADING. "Thassit, hero-cunt... milk that fuckin' GREEN meat..." His cock SWELLS in my grip.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:400,0.32),(a:800,0.36),(a:1200,0.40),(a:1600,0.44),(a:2000,0.42),(a:2400,0.46),(a:2800,0.48)))) It HAPPENS: the SURGE begins somewhere in those cum-churners, the shaft PULSING as something THICK starts its journey UP- "Gonna NUT-" Snib grunts. His whole body TENSES. *NO.* I yank the cloth UP, wrapping it around his cockhead just as the first THROB hits- And then everything happens at once.(simple_option:"04 hj cum","He cums.")](else:)[(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.08,"amplitude",0.04,"periodMs",750,"forever",true))(pic:"ch04/hj no cloth.jpg") It's WRONG. Every inch of this is wrong. My fingers slide up the slick shaft, over ridges, veins, the slight *give* of flesh over iron-hard core. The foreskin bunches and stretches as I move, and when I pull down, the head SWELLS further from its shroud, purple and glistening, and a fresh ROPE of pre-cum oozes from the slit, stretching toward the floor. "Faster," Snib grunts. I speed up.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.18,"peakTo",0.28,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",650,"intervalTo",440,"attackMs",55,"sustainMs",30,"releaseMs",70,"rampBeats",18,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.22,"depthJitter",0.08)) The wet *schlick-schlick-schlick* fills the tiny room. My wrist is already screaming and my tits keep SWAYING with each stroke, bumping against my forearms. "Mmmmm, that's the stuff..." Snib's head lolls back. "Ye got soft hands, hero. Real GIRLY hands. Bet yer wife'd love to see 'em like this." *Don't think about Elara. Don't-* (if:(get_choice:"04 grimjaw drinks","'You want to know who I am? I'm Aldric. I put you in that cell. And I'll do it again.'"))["Ye told that fat fuck who ye ARE," Snib continues, his voice a purr. "ALDRIC the Great. Gonna put him in a cell again, were ye?" His hips give a little thrust, pushing more cock through my grip. "How's that workin' out? Cause right now, looks to me like ALDRIC'S jerkin' off a gobbo in a shithouse while his buddies drink outside." His balls BOUNCE against the backs of my knuckles as I stroke. Heavy. Full. *Churning.* "Bet the fat man's would have a REAL good laugh about this," Snib snarls.](else:)["Smart of ye not to tell that fat man who ye really are," Snib muses, and his hips give a little thrust that pushes more cock through my grip. His balls BOUNCE against the backs of my knuckles as I stroke. Heavy. Full. *Churning.* "But don't worry-" His grin splits wider. "-this is PLENTY humblin' already, ain't it?"] I don't answer. I CAN'T. Heat tightens in my chest, and it has nothing to do with the fever-hot cock in my hands. My nipples are-they're- *CLENCH.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0),(a:200,0.08),(a:500,0.14),(a:800,0.20),(a:1100,0.16),(a:1400,0.10),(a:1700,0.06),(a:2000,0),"resumeAfter",true))) I bite my lip so hard I taste copper. My thighs squeeze together. The scale-breeches are already damp, and it's not from sweat. *No no no no no-* "HNNGH-" Snib's grunt pulls me back. His cock FLEXES in my grip, swelling thicker. The head PULSES and *SPITS* a fat rope of pre-cum that arcs up and splatters against my chin.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.25,"pulseMs",40,"count",1,"rest",0,"resumeAfter",true)) I flinch. Don't let go. "Gettin' CLOSE, bounce-bags." His breath is coming faster now. His balls are *TIGHTENING*, drawing up toward his body, the shaft growing HARDER in my hands, STRAINING toward something. "Keep goin'. FASTER." My arms are burning. My wrists ache. I pump harder, faster, my hands making obscene *PLAP-PLAP-PLAP* sounds(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.26,"peakTo",0.36,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",420,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",40,"sustainMs",22,"releaseMs",48,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.20,"depthJitter",0.10)) as they slap against his groin. Pre-cum is flowing freely now, coating my fingers, making everything slick and sticky and WARM- *BANG BANG BANG.* "-swear to Flux if they're doing what I THINK they're doing in there-" "-heard the goblin's got her on a LEASH-" "-someone should get Harwick-" The voices outside are getting LOUDER. More insistent. "Ignore 'em," Snib snarls. His clawed hand finds the back of my head again, pressing me DOWN. "Ye stop now, ye get NOTHIN'. Keep. PUMPIN'." I pump. His cock is a MONSTER now, fully engorged, purple-dark, veins standing out like rope.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.32),(a:400,0.36),(a:800,0.40),(a:1200,0.44),(a:1600,0.48),(a:2000,0.46),(a:2400,0.50),(a:2800,0.52)))) The head flares so wide my fingers can barely pass over it, the urethra BULGING, something CHURNING up from those heavy balls- "Oh FUCK-" Snib's back arches. "HERE IT COMES, TITCOW!" "Oh gods oh gods oh-" (pic:"ch04/hj nocloth cover head split.png") I don't think. (pic:"ch04/hj nocloth cover hand split.png") My hands CLAMP around the head of his cock just as the first PULSE tears through him.(simple_option:"04 hj cum","He grunts.")]

(sperm:"THROB.",4,"splurt 1 internal")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/defeated/1.png")($play:"sex loop","cum 1")($play:'ambience','tavern stall')(if:$choice is "He cums.")[(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.48),(a:120,0.18),(a:600,0.44),(a:720,0.16),(a:1200,0.40),(a:1320,0.14),(a:1800,0.36),(a:1920,0.12),(a:2400,0.32),(a:2520,0.10),(a:3000,0.28),(a:3120,0.08),(a:3600,0.22),(a:3720,0.06),(a:4200,0.16),(a:4320,0.04),(a:4800,0.10),(a:4920,0.02),(a:5400,0))))(pic:"ch04/hj cum cloth.jpg","right")The cloth BULGES. The FORCE of his ejaculation hits my palms like something TRYING TO ESCAPE. Hot. THICK. The fabric DISTENDS with the volume of it, darkening instantly as his cum SOAKS through- (sperm:"THRRROB-GUSH",3,"splurt 1 internal")Another pulse. The wet patch SPREADS. Cum DRIPS from between my fingers, HOT and HEAVY, hitting the floor in thick, yellow-white ROPES- "HRUK!" Snib's grunt is ANIMAL. His cock BUCKS in my grip like a snake, and the cloth CAN'T HOLD IT- I DUCK. A rope of something VISCOUS sails over my head, close enough for the HEAT to touch my hair. It hits the wall behind me. (sperm:"SPLRRRT-SPLRRRT-SPLRRRRRRT",4,"splurt 7")His cock is SPRAYING now. The cloth has fallen away and he's just CUMMING, EJACULATING, PISSING his backed-up load all over the cramped space- (pic:"ch04/hj cock cum.jpg","He's just CUMMING, EJACULATING, PISSING his backed-up load all over the cramped space-") The sounds are WET and THICK. I'm crouched down now, face pressed against my knees, trying not to BREATHE. The SMELL is everywhere, concentrated goblin SPUNK coating the air itself- (sperm:"SPLAT",2,"splat 1")Something HOT lands on my forearm. (playwhenread:"oh gods ugh",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.35),(a:300,0.40),(a:600,0.45),(a:1000,0.42),(a:1400,0.38),(a:1800,0.32),(a:2400,0.26),(a:3200,0.20),(a:4000,0.14),(a:5000,0.08),(a:6000,0))))I SCREAM. It BURNS, fever-hot and ALIVE, like being branded. It SEEPS into my pores, my skin FLUSHING where it makes contact- *No no no no no-* I grab the hem of my scale-breeches and WIPE frantically, smearing the glob away before it can DO anything, before it can change me, before- "HARHARHAR!" Snib's laughter rings off the walls. He's SPENT now, his cock drooping, still DRIBBLING the last of his load onto the floor, but his eyes are BRIGHT with satisfaction. "Look at ye," he wheezes. "PANICKING. Over a little SPLATTER." He gestures at the carnage around us. The wall. The floor. The ruined cloth. "Imagine what'd happen if I REALLY let loose." I'm trembling. My whole body is. There's cum on the wall behind me, cum on the floor beneath me, and I'm KNEELING in the middle of it like a supplicant at some obscene altar. What's LEFT of the cloth hangs from Snib's softening cock like a flag of surrender. I reach forward with shaking fingers to remove it. *PLOP.* It falls into the latrine-hole with a wet sound. "Right then!" Snib hops off the bench, tucking his cock away with practiced ease. "That was GOOD. Ye did GOOD, cow-tits. For a first time." He adjusts his loincloth and grins up at me. "Too bad ye won't get any gold!" *Is what I did really so much better?* He grabs my collar and DRAGS me toward the door. "Wait-" I stumble after him in my heels. "I'm-there's-" "Ain't got time for CLEANIN'," he says cheerfully. "Them humies are WAITIN'."(simple_option:"04 hj finish","The door bursts open.")](else:)[(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.52),(a:100,0.20),(a:550,0.48),(a:650,0.18),(a:1100,0.44),(a:1200,0.16),(a:1650,0.40),(a:1750,0.14),(a:2200,0.36),(a:2300,0.12),(a:2750,0.32),(a:2850,0.10),(a:3300,0.26),(a:3400,0.08),(a:3850,0.20),(a:3950,0.06),(a:4400,0.14),(a:4500,0.04),(a:5000,0))))(sperm:"BLORRRRRT",5,"splurt 4")I'll never forget that SOUND. Like someone stepping on a rotten melon. His cockhead SWELLS in my grip, ERUPTS, and hot, THICK, impossibly VISCOUS cum BLASTS against my palms, FLOODS through my fingers. SO MUCH of it. Too much. Like he's PISSING cum directly into my hands- "YEAH-YEAH-TAKE IT-HRNNNNGH-" Each throb of his shaft sends another GUSH of off-white SLUDGE through my grip. It runs down my wrists now, drips onto the floor, and I can SMELL it: thick and rotten and DANGEROUS, that pheromone-laden filth that can CHANGE women, that's changed HUNDREDS of women- (pic:"ch04/hj nocloth cover mess.jpg","'Oh FUCK-!' I can't hold it.") "Oh FUCK-!" I can't hold it. The cum is too slick, too voluminous, and his cock BUCKS free of my grip- (pic:"ch04/hj cock cum.jpg","A lazy rope of goblin seed ARCS past my head.") (sperm:"SPLAT",3,"splurt 9")A lazy rope of goblin seed ARCS past my head. (playwhenread:"oh gods ugh",(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.38),(a:300,0.44),(a:600,0.48),(a:1000,0.44),(a:1400,0.40),(a:1800,0.34),(a:2400,0.28),(a:3200,0.22),(a:4000,0.16),(a:5000,0.10),(a:6000,0))))I DUCK. (sperm:"SPLATCH",2,"splurt 2")It hits the wall behind me with enough force to SPLATTER. "HNNNNNNGH-" Snib's not done. His cock is POINTING at me now, free of my hands, and it FLEXES once more- (sperm:"SPLOOOOORRRSSHH",4,"splurt 6")This time it's like a fucking RIVER. A thick stream of backed-up cum JETS from his twitching cock, painting a line across the ceiling, the wall, spattering against the door- I throw myself sideways. My shoulder hits the wall. My tits WOBBLE obscenely in my breast-band. (sperm:"SPLAT",2,"splurt 2")A rope of cum SPLATS against the floor inches from my heel- "FUCK yes-" Snib groans, his cock finally subsiding to weak spurts. "That's-hnnngh-that's the STUFF..." I'm panting. My heart is HAMMERING. My hands are COATED in cooling goblin cum, strings of it webbing between my fingers. A splash of it warms my forearm, TINGLING against my skin- *Tingling.* (hidden_gem:"The cum on my skin burns like fever-wine and whispers of surrenders I dare not name.","The seed on my flesh burns like fever-wine, whispering of yielding I dare not speak aloud.") I look at the mess. Already my skin feels... strange. Oversensitive. AWARE. "HARHAR!" Snib's laugh is breathless but triumphant. He's still on the bench, cock going soft against his thigh, balls deflated, looking utterly SATISFIED. "Look at YE. Hero of Eboncrest, covered in gobbo nut!" "I'm not-" I look around wildly for something to wipe my hands on. There's only the rag. "I need to clean-" "YE need to get MOVING." Snib hops off the bench, yanking his loincloth back into place. "Them humies outside're about to break the door down." Hurriedly, I stand up and grab the rag from the wall, whimpering as I wipe my fingers against it. The gobbo-goo SMEARS rather than wipes away. *BANG BANG BANG BANG-* "CITY WATCH! Open this door!" Snib grabs the collar at my throat and YANKS me toward the door. "Wait-my hands-!" "MOVE!"(simple_option:"04 hj finish","Wipe your hands on your thighs.")]

($play:"sex loop",0)($play:'ambience','tavern')(if:$choice is "Wipe your hands on your thighs.")[I wipe my hands on my thighs. I drag my cum-coated palms down the scale-mail covering my thighs, leaving glistening STREAKS. The metal is warm now, tingling with whatever FOULNESS is soaking into it- Snib throws open the door. The hallway is PACKED. A dozen faces: Harwick, guards, tavern patrons. All staring at the cum-splattered interior of the back room, at me stumbling out with sticky hands and a flushed face, at Snib waddling ahead with that maddening satisfied grin- (pic:"ch04/disoriented.jpg","right","'Me property and I are LEAVIN'!'")"Move ASIDE!" Snib bellows, dragging me by the leash that appears in his hands. "Me property and I are LEAVIN'!" They part. Of course they part. What else can they do? I keep my eyes down as we push through. I can hear the whispers: "-gods, look at the MESS in there-" "-she actually LET him-" "-her HANDS, look at her hands-" *Just keep walking. Just keep walking.*](else:)[Faces. STARING faces. The crowd that had gathered outside, angry at being made to wait, now FROZEN as they take in the scene- The smell of CUM. The stains on the wall. Me, stumbling out with my hair disheveled and my face FLUSHED and- "She was in there with that THING!" someone gasps. (pic:"ch04/disoriented.jpg","right","'Me property and I are LEAVIN'!'")Snib DRAGS me through the crowd by the leash that appears. My heels CLACK on the wooden floor. People part before us in raw DISGUST, and I hear the whispers following us like flies on rot. *"-saw her GO IN with it-"* *"-what was she DOING-"* *"-heard the SOUNDS-"* *"-must be its WHORE-"* The tavern door SLAMS open. Cold night air hits my face. We're outside. We're FREE. But the heat of his cum stays on my forearm, even after I wiped it away. I can still SMELL him on my hands. And somewhere behind us, in the Silver Stag's ruined bathroom, the evidence of what I've done is dripping slowly down the wall.](simple_option:"04 exit tavern","Flee into the night.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/defeated/1.png")($play:'song',"night falls")($play:'ambience','village night')(hidden_gem:"The night air hits my lungs like cold water.","The night air knifes into my lungs-cold, cruel, cleansing-cutting through the clinging corruption of that cramped and cum-soaked chamber.") I *gasp* as we burst through the Silver Stag's doors and into the cobblestone street. The moon hangs fat and yellow over Eboncrest's walls, casting everything in the color of old bones. My hands still *smell* like him. I bring them to my face, sniffing, grimacing. The reek of goblin musk has *soaked* into my skin, settled into the whorls of my fingerprints. I could wash for hours and still smell it. *I jerked him off. I-* "Keep MOVIN', cow-tits." Snib's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. He's waddling ahead of me now, confident as a king in his own castle, his loincloth freshly adjusted and his yellow eyes gleaming with post-orgasmic satisfaction. "We ain't got all night." "Wait-" I stumble after him in these thrakking heels, each step a negotiation with gravity. "We need to go back to Fendril. He said he wanted to examine the collar further, and-" "Them humies in there were gettin' IDEAS." Snib doesn't even turn around. "Saw how they was lookin' at me." "But the gold-the bank-" "Can WAIT." He waves a dismissive hand. "Right now, we're goin' back to me hut where it's SAFE." *His hut. Three hours into the desert. Away from Elara, away from Fendril, away from any hope of-* "I need to see my wife." The words come out before I can stop them. "Just-just to say goodbye. To explain-" Snib stops walking. He turns, slowly, and in the moonlight his grin looks like a wound. "Ye STINK of me cock," he says, matter-of-factly. "And ye want to go HUG yer precious wifey?" He laughs, that wet, phlegmy cackle. "Go on then. Let her SMELL what ye been up to. See how she likes THAT." My face burns. "We're LEAVIN'," Snib announces. "Tonight. NOW. Before any more of yer humie friends decide to put an arrow in me back." He starts walking again, toward the west gate, toward the desert, toward three weeks of servitude in his filthy hovel. I follow. What choice do I have? ($play:"ambience","village night")The streets of Eboncrest are nearly empty at this hour. A few drunks stumbling home from taverns. A night-watchman who sees us and *stops*, hand going to his sword, before thinking better of it and pressing himself against a wall to let us pass. The collar gleams at my throat like a warning. *I used to patrol these streets. Used to be the one making the shadows safe.* The west gate looms ahead. Two guards on duty. I don't recognize them. Good. Small mercies. "Open up!" Snib calls, waddling up to the gate with the confidence of someone who knows he can't be touched. "Official business!" The guards exchange glances. One young, nervous guard takes a step forward. "Sir, we were told not to let the, uh, the *prisoner* leave the-" "PRISONER?" Snib's laugh echoes off the walls. "She ain't a PRISONER, boy. She's me PROPERTY. And I'm takin' her HOME." "But Mayor Bramble said-" "Ye want to TEST it?" Snib's voice goes cold. "Ye want to see what happens when ye try to keep me from leavin'?" He reaches up and grabs my collar, hauling it into the torchlight. "This here is BONDED. Ye hurt me, she DIES. Ye delay me, she SUFFERS. Now OPEN. THE. GATE." The guards look at me. I see the question in their eyes: *is this real? Should we help?* I nod, once. The gate creaks open. Beyond it, silhouetted against the moon, Jarkrond waits. The ash-runner's amber eyes catch the light as he turns his head toward us, ears swiveling. He's been standing there for hours, patient as stone. Waiting for his master. *Our* master. Snib starts toward him. I follow. That's when I hear it- "ALDRIC!"(simple_option:"04 elara","It's Elara!")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/2.png")(pic:"ch04/elara chase.jpg","left","She's running.")(hidden_gem:"She's running. Her autumn hair streams behind her, wild and unbound, and she's wearing nothing but her nightgown-thin white linen that does nothing against the cold, that clings to her body in the moonlight, that shows exactly how much weight she's lost in three days of mourning.","She's running-red hair raging behind her like a riot of autumn flame, robed in nothing but a ragged nightgown, that thin white remnant revealing every rib, every ravage of three ruinous, restless, red-eyed days of mourning.") "Aldric, WAIT-" She stumbles, catches herself, keeps coming. "Please-PLEASE-" Snib sighs theatrically. "Oh, for THRAK'S sake." She reaches us at the gate, panting, her breath misting in the cold air. Her sapphire eyes find mine and they're *red* with a desperation that makes my heart crack down the middle. "You can't-" She grabs my arm. Her fingers are *ice*. "You can't leave. Not like this. Not-" Her voice breaks. "I just got you BACK." "Elara-" "I know what I did was wrong." She's talking fast now, tumbling over her words. "Running away like that. I just-it was too MUCH. Seeing you like-" Her eyes flick down to my body, to my tits, to the collar. "-like THIS. And then that THING was saying those things, and I just-I couldn't-" "It's okay-" (playwhenread:"its not okay")"It's NOT okay!" She's crying now. Openly. Tears streaming down her freckled cheeks. "I'm your WIFE. I'm supposed to stand by you. Through sickness, through health, through-through THIS." She waves at Snib, at the collar, at all of it. "And I RAN." "Ye gonna cry all night, or can we GO?" Snib sounds bored. "Take me with you," Elara says. The words hit me hard. "What?" "Take me WITH you." She's gripping my arm harder now, hard enough to bruise. "To wherever you're going. I don't care. I can cook, I can help, I can-" Her voice cracks again. "I can't be here without you. These three days-I thought you were DEAD. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I kept going to your side of the bed and it was EMPTY and I just-" "NOW we're talkin'!" Snib's voice is gleeful. "TWO servants instead of one!"(simple_option:"04 choice","No.","You'd really do that?","doom")

(if:$choice is "No.")["No." The word comes out of me before I realize I'm saying it. Elara blinks. "What?" "No." I take her hands in mine, her small, cold, *human* hands, and look into her eyes. "You can't come." "But-" "Elara, *listen to me*." My voice is low, urgent. "You don't know what it's like out there. In his hut. The *smell* of him, it-" I swallow hard. "It does things. To your mind. To your body. Goblins, they-if you're exposed long enough-" "I don't CARE-" "I do." I squeeze her hands. "I care. And I can't-" My voice breaks. "I can't let that happen to you. I can't watch you *change*. The way I've changed." "You haven't CHANGED," she insists. "You're still Aldric. You're still my-" "Look at me." I gesture at myself-at the tits, the hips, the collar. "LOOK at me, Elara. This isn't-" I take a shaky breath. "This isn't something I can control. But YOU can. You can stay HERE, where it's safe. Where Fendril can watch over you. Where you can be-" "I don't WANT to be safe!" She's shouting now, her voice echoing off the walls. "I want to be with my HUSBAND!" "Yer husband's got TITS now," Snib points out, helpfully. "And a cunt. And the fattest arse I've ever-" "SHUT UP!" Elara screams at him, and for a moment, just a moment, I see the fire that I fell in love with. The woman who stood beside me at our wedding and said *I'll follow you into the dark*. But domestic life with a goblin is worse than the dark. "Thirty days," I tell her, softly. "That's all. Thirty days, and then the gold unfreezes, and I pay him, and I come HOME. I come home to YOU." "You PROMISE?" The word hangs in the cold air between us. I remember the handjob. The precum soaking through the cloth. The way my body *responded* despite everything. The tiny drop of cum that landed on my forearm and burned like a brand. Can I really promise? Can I promise that in thirty days, after weeks of exposure to his musk and his mockery and his endless degradation, I'll still be someone she recognizes?(simple_option:"04 promise","I promise.")](else:)["Elara, listen. The smell of him isn't just a smell. It gets into the blood. Into the *wanting*. Women who share a roof with a goblin change, and I can't-" "Pheromones." She says the word the way she'd name a pox. "I'm a herbalist, love. I dosed a mare an ash-runner ruined with a single covering." Her hands find my face, certain, terrified. "It isn't chance, Aldric. A goblin's filth needs somewhere empty to root. There is nothing empty in me." It is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever believed about me. I glance down at Snib, braced for the crowing. He isn't crowing. He studies his toes, scratching at a chin-wart. A small sound slips out, either a cough or the front half of a giggle. "My LIFE is with you." Elara's grip on my arm tightens until it hurts. Her nightgown is muddy at the hem, her feet are bleeding from the cobblestones, and she's never looked more beautiful. "Everything else is just... chaff in the wind." "ADORABLE!" Snib cackles from somewhere near my hip. "Really warmin' me black little heart, it is!" Elara's head snaps toward him. "Shut your foul mouth, you disgusting little-" The collar pulses. I gasp, hand flying to my throat. A reminder. Snib's yellow eyes gleam in the lamplight. "Careful, missus. Ye ain't wearin' one of THESE." He gestures at my collar. "But yer 'wifey' here IS." Elara's face goes pale. Then red. Her fists clench at her sides. "You MONSTER-" "Elara." I grab her shoulders. Force her to look at me instead of him. "I don't think this is a good idea." Her sapphire eyes are swimming with tears. With rage. With love so fierce it makes my chest ache. "I hate him," she whispers. "I hate what he's done to you. I hate that he EXISTS." "I know." "I want to KILL him." "I know." "But I can't." Her voice breaks. "Because it would kill YOU." Behind us, Snib makes a retching sound. "Ye two gonna kiss or what? Me balls are achin' from all this ROMANCE." Elara ignores him. Her hands rise to cup this face that isn't mine: cheeks too soft, jaw too delicate. Her thumbs brush away tears I didn't know I was crying. "I don't care what body you're in," she says. "I don't care what that collar makes you do. You're still MY Aldric. My husband. And I am NOT leaving you alone with this... this THING." "Elara-" (pic:"ch04/elara kiss.jpg","right","'...until the stars themselves go dark.'")She kisses me. Her mouth crashes against mine, hard and starving. I taste salt: her tears, my tears, impossible to tell which. My arms wrap around her waist and pull her close. For one moment, ONE BLESSED MOMENT, the collar doesn't exist. Snib doesn't exist. None of this exists. Just us. Just Elara. Just home. "BLEEEEEEGH!" Snib's voice shatters everything. "Get a ROOM! Oh wait-ye CAN'T! 'Cause yer comin' with ME! HARHARHAR!" We break apart. Elara's face is flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes bright with war. "You're sure?" I whisper. "I've never been more sure of anything." She takes my hand. Squeezes hard enough to grind the bones. "Where you go, I go. That was the vow, wasn't it? 'Through shadow and through flame.'"(simple_option:"04 decision","'...until the stars themselves go dark.'")]

Elara searches my face. Looking for something. Finding... I don't know what. (pic:"ch04/elara kiss.jpg","right","'...until the stars themselves go dark.'")Then she kisses me. (hidden_gem:"It's brief. Just a press of lips against lips, her mouth warm against my cold-numbed skin. I taste salt-her tears-and something sweeter underneath. Something that tastes like six years of marriage, of shared meals and shared beds and a future we were supposed to build together.","Brief, barely a breath between us-her lips warm against my winter-numbed mouth, tasting of tears and tenderness, of the twilit years together, of shared suppers and silk-soft slumber and a future fashioned from faith and foolish, fragile, fading hope.") When she pulls back, her eyes are still wet, but there's something harder in them now. Resolve. "Thirty days," she says. "I'll be counting." "Every one," I whisper back. Snib makes a gagging sound. "Ye DONE? Me balls are gettin' cold." I let go of Elara's hands. It's the hardest thing I've ever done. "Go back inside," I tell her. "It's freezing. You're not even wearing shoes." She laughs, a wet, broken sound. "I didn't have time. I saw you leaving from the window and I just-" She shakes her head. "I ran." "Go back," I say again. "Please. I need to know you're safe." Elara nods, slowly. She takes a step back. Then another. "I love you," she says. "Whatever body you're in. Whatever he makes you do. I LOVE you, Aldric." "I love you too." *Please, Ephemerals, let that still be true in thirty days.* Snib tugs at my collar. "Come ON, cow-tits. Night ain't gettin' any younger." I turn away from my wife. I walk toward Jarkrond. The ash-runner snorts as we approach, his barrel chest rumbling with that strange, almost-speech sound. Snib scrambles up first, using the desert horse's rough hide as handholds, settling into position near the beast's haunches. Then it's my turn. The scale-breeches CLING as I swing my leg over, metal plates clicking together, announcing my movements to anyone still awake. The breast-band shifts as I settle, my tits threatening to spill, and when I finally sit- The horse's spine presses UP between my thighs. "Nngh-" I can't stop the sound. The pressure against my scale-covered crotch is *immediate*, *insistent*. Jarkrond shifts beneath me, adjusting to the weight, and each movement sends friction through places I'm desperately trying not to think about. Snib settles in behind me, his warty chest against my back, his loincloth-covered bulge nestling into the cleft of my ass once again. "There we go," he murmurs, his breath hot on my shoulder blade. "Nice and COZY." His hands find my hips. His claws dig in through the scale-mail. Jarkrond's ears rotate back toward us. Then, with a decisive snort, the ash-runner begins to move. *CLOP. CLOP. CLOP.* Through the last gate. Past the guards. Into the darkness beyond Eboncrest's walls. I look back. Elara is still standing there, framed in the gateway, her white nightgown luminous in the moonlight. She looks like a ghost. Like something I'm leaving behind in the land of the living. She raises one hand in farewell. I raise mine. And then Snib yanks my hair.(playwhenread:"gallops away",(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.16,"peakTo",0.22,"baseFrom",0.04,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",950,"intervalTo",950,"attackMs",42,"sustainMs",32,"releaseMs",120,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.05,"intervalJitter",0.08,"depthJitter",0.04)) "Stop STARIN'," he growls. "Eyes front. Yer with ME now." I turn away. Behind me, Snib's cock is hardening again. It GROWS against my ass.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.12,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",1400,"forever",true)) It recovers from its earlier release with the speed of something inhuman, something that doesn't obey normal biology. Within minutes, that impossible bulge is back, pressing, seeking, *promising*. "Twenty-nine days and countin'," Snib says cheerfully. His hands slide up from my hips to cup my breasts through the band, feeling them BOUNCE with each of Jarkrond's strides.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.22,"peakTo",0.26,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",950,"intervalTo",950,"attackMs",42,"sustainMs",35,"releaseMs",120,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.08,"depthJitter",0.05)) "Plenty of time for us to get... *acquainted*." The lights of Eboncrest fade behind us. (pic:"ch04/depart.jpg","The forest swallows the sound of hooves.")(simple_option:"05 dungeon entrance","The forest swallows the sound of hooves.")

(pic:"ch04/bad end/snib eyeroll.jpg","left")"BLARGH." Snib waddles between us, his loincloth tenting obscenely. "Right then! If the missus is comin', we leave TONIGHT. Got a nice clean hut waitin'-thanks to SOMEONE-and I ain't wastin' good moonlight on humie slobber-fests." "Tonight?" Elara's voice sharpens. "I need to pack. Food, clothes, medicine-" "Pack FAST then." Snib's grin shows every broken tooth. "Ye got... one hour. After that, we're gone-with or without yer frilly knickers." Elara draws herself up. Even in a muddy nightgown with bleeding feet, she manages to look regal. "If I'm coming with you," she says, her voice ice, "I have CONDITIONS." Snib's eyebrows, such as they are, rise with theatrical interest. "CONDITIONS!" He claps his warty hands together. "Ooh, I LOVE conditions! Let's hear 'em, missus!" Elara doesn't flinch. "First. You will not TOUCH me. Not ever." "Never, unless ye ASK me too!" Snib's voice is silk wrapped around broken glass. "Yer me property's wife. That's almost like family!" "Second." Elara's jaw tightens. "Aldric-ELISE-" she corrects herself with visible effort, "-will be treated with basic dignity. Proper food. Proper shelter. No more... no more DEGRADATION than that cursed collar requires." Snib scratches his balls thoughtfully. The sound is wet and obscene. "Wellllll... the COLLAR'S in charge of that, innit? Can't stop her obeyin' ME." His yellow eyes gleam. "But I s'pose I could be... PERSUADED... to be a bit nicer. If I had good FOOD in me belly. Nice clean HUT to sleep in. Maybe some... entertainment?" "What kind of entertainment?" Elara's voice is dangerous. "Nothin' UNTOWARD!" Snib raises his hands in mock innocence. "Maybe ye could... share some with poor ignorant Snib?" I want to scream at her. Want to tell her it's a trap. That every word out of his mouth is poison. But the collar sits cold and heavy on my throat, and I KNOW any warning I give will only make things worse. Elara studies him. Her herbalist's eyes, trained to spot rot in healthy-looking plants. "My third condition is the most important," she says finally. "Do TELL." "When this is over-when you have your gold and release Elise from that collar-you will NEVER contact us again. You will vanish from our lives like the bad dream you are. If I ever see your face in Eboncrest again, we will spend every last minute of our existence hunting you down. Otherwise, I promise, we will leave you alone." Snib's grin doesn't waver. "Missus," he says, "when I've got me ten thousand gold, ye won't be ABLE to find me. I'll be livin' like a KING somewhere far, far away. Surrounded by females what APPRECIATE a gobbo with coin." He extends a warty hand. "So. We got a deal?" Elara looks at his hand like it's a diseased rat. "I'm not shaking your hand." "Suit yerself!" Snib shrugs cheerfully. "Deal's a deal whether ye touch me or not. Now-" He claps again. "Git goin'!"(simple_option:"04 pack","Head to the house.")

(hidden_gem:"Above us, the stars wheel in their ancient patterns-the Hunter, the Serpent, the Broken Crown. The same stars that shone on my wedding night, will watch me cross the Shifting Sands as a woman once again.","Above us, the stars wheel in their ancient watch-the Hunter, the Serpent, the Broken Crown-those selfsame celestial sentinels that shimmered on my wedding night now standing silent witness as I cross the Shifting Sands again, stripped of sword, stripped of sovereignty, stripped of self.") Jarkrond waits at the corner, his ash-grey hide almost invisible in the darkness. Those amber eyes find me immediately, intelligent and knowing. And beside him- Clover. A white mare with a gentle face and strong legs, Elara's favored choice. She's saddled and ready, shifting nervously in Jarkrond's presence. I notice how the ash-runner's nostrils flare. How his head turns toward the mare. (playwhenread:"gallops away")Elara is adjusting the saddle straps, her face set with determination. "Ready?" she asks. "No." I climb up onto Jarkrond's back, the familiar horrible sensation of his hide scraping against my metal leggings, of Snib settling in behind me and pressing that BULGE against my ass. "But when has that ever mattered?" Snib's arms wrap around my waist. His chin barely reaches my shoulder blade. "Right then, JARKO! Let's GO!" he announces. Jarkrond lunges forward. Elara rides close enough that our knees almost touch. Her face is pale in the starlight, her hair streaming behind her, her eyes fixed forward with grim resolve. Behind us, Eboncrest shrinks. The walls. The tower. The spires catching moonlight. My home. *Our* home. I look at Elara. She looks back. (pic:"ch04/bad end/leave together.jpg")(simple_option:"04 hut","And without a word, we ride into the night.")($play:"song",0)

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/shocked/1.png")(hidden_gem:"The choke is instant. The circle at my throat goes from cold metal to a closed fist in one heartbeat. My breath stops mid-gasp. I claw at my own neck with hands slick with dark oil.","The collar clamps closed, crushing breath and cry together; cold iron becomes a constrictor's coil while my claws, coated in corpse-oil, scrabble uselessly.") (pic:"ch05/i claw at my own neck.png") My vision tunnels. The last thing I see is something dark watching me from the other end of the passage, before my face hits the stone. I die there, on my belly, in the dark, with the creature waiting for me to stop twitching so it can drag me home.(gameover:"ch05/skrall fighter.png","chapters","nogallery")

(pic:"ch05/quicksand die.jpg") The sand folds over my mouth. The last thing I hear is Snib screaming my name from the stone hand, high and panicked and useless, while the pit drinks the sound down after me. (gameover:"ch05/quicksand gameover text.jpg","chapters","nogallery")

(badendsave:"vesselmaker")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","snib dominates")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodscared.png")(if:$abridged)[(notification:"Heads-up: this bad end gets nasty. No gore, but total loss of self: Elise's mind gets fucked out of her through her own skull and something else moves in after. If mindbreak/identity-loss isn't your jam, back out and try that fight again!")](pic:"ch05/skrall fighter 2.png","right")My thrust goes wide of the left skull and the right takes my ankle from behind and hooks it and I go down face-first, tits slapping the cold stone, *WHUMP*, chin cracking the walkway, vision blurring. I kick, twist, get a knee under me and a wide foot stamps it flat, a slick hand closes on my sword-wrist and grinds it into the stone until my knuckles pop and my fingers open and Whisperwind skitters away across the ledge. "*GET... OFF ME!*" The second takes my free arm. They haul me up between them onto my knees, arms wrenched wide, and I'm bucking, throwing everything against their grip, hair whipping, tits lurching wild, "*GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME, GET-*" and the sound of Aldric's roar pouring out of this high-pitched throat fills the cavern. Snib hits the stone behind me, flung off my back, and scrambles wailing for the nearest pipe, both hands scrabbling at the metal. The nearer skull turns to him. One claw extends and dimples the warty skin of his throat. It clicks once. The jaw-slits pull a long breath off him and the head tilts, considering. "Snib." Arms wrenched, every muscle firing against grips that will not give. "MASTER! Give me magic. RIGHT NOW!!!" He won't look at me. His yellow eyes are wet and fixed on the claw-tip and his whole body has gone stiff. "*SNIB!*" His shoulders climb up around his ears. (pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat armor offers you missionary.jpg","My armor moves on my skin.") The collar pulses cold. (playwhenread:"evening tie up")My armor moves on my skin. (hidden_gem:"The drakeslip crawls across my hips with a sound like scales dragging stone, the metal plates pulling back from my crotch, the thong widening and climbing and reshaping into a belt of hard black scale that cinches my waist and locks. The crotch-piece peels away, the metal retreating up and to the sides, baring me from my navel down, cunt and inner thighs and the wet shine between them all open to the cold air. The cup-scales crawl up my arms and fuse my wrists together behind my back, bonded to the belt. My own armor has cuffed me and spread me and presented me on my knees.","Scales skitter over skin and scheme themselves into shackles: the slit-cover slinks aside, showing shaved cunt and shining thighs, while shoulder-scales snake down my arms, solder my wrists behind me, and spread their swordswoman as a sacrificial slut.") I buck against the restraints. Forward, sideways, the metal biting my wrists, my tits swinging wild with every lurch, and the belt holds and the curse holds and nothing I do moves anything. The skrall release my arms. They step back. They don't need to hold me anymore. (pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat armor offers you missionary 2.png","The collar did their work for them.") The collar did their work for them. It's making me an OFFERING to protect my cowardly master. (pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat cock closeup.jpg","right","Their cocks extend.")Their cocks extend. (hidden_gem:"The long black things peeling off their bellies in slow wet jerks, tapered at the root and fattening along the length, ridged every half-inch in rings of hard gristle, oil-slick, the knotted heads splitting clear beads that run in thin lines down the underside.","Long, lacquer-black lengths lurch from their loins, limber roots leading to lobed, gristle-ringed limbs whose lumpy heads leak lucid lubricant.") Heat pours off them. I can feel it on the bare skin of my belly from three feet away, a living warmth radiating off something that looks like it belongs on a corpse. They click to each other, a short rapid exchange, then silence. One folds down behind me on those reversed knees, the backward joints tucking it low, its oiled chest close enough that a drip of black oil lands on my bound wrists and runs warm over my fingers. The other crouches in front, folding down until its skull is level with mine. Its eye-pits sit inches from my face. Two wet glints sunk deep in ridged bone, and behind the glints a patience that has been waiting in the dark. The jaw-slits work, slow, pulling my scent off my skin in long tasting breaths. (pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat missionary face closeup.jpg","Its eye-pits sit inches from my face.") Oil drips off its jaw and lands on my bare chest and runs down between my tits. Its cock hangs between us, close enough that the knotted head brushes the soft skin of my belly, and where it touches the heat blooms outward and my nipples stiffen against the cold air.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker penetration","'P- please...'")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/2.png")($play:"sex loop","skrall fucking reluctant")It reaches down and flips me onto my back. My shoulder blades crack cold stone. My bound wrists grind into my spine. My tits fall heavy to either side of my chest, bare, wobbling from the impact. The skull folds down over me. Reversed knees splay wide, oiled body low, its face three inches above mine. Oil drips from its jaw-slits. A fat drop lands on my lip. One hand clamps my jaw open. Thumb and fingers, forcing. Amber oil beads on the needle-teeth and drips onto my tongue. I gag on the taste, try to turn my head. It holds me still. More drops. Pooling in the hollows of my cheeks, warm and resinous, filling my mouth. I swallow on reflex. *Tk-tk-tk-tk-tk.* Clicking erupts from its throat that sounds quite pleased with itself. "*Get OFF-glk-*" Oil floods my mouth again. Its pelvis tilts. The long black cock drags across my inner thigh, *schliiick*, warm oil-trail smearing my skin, and the ridged head finds my quivering mound. Presses against my opening.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:450,0.20),(a:1000,0.30),(a:1700,0.42),(a:2400,0.54),(a:3200,0.62),(a:4000,0.68)))) *Schlup.* My hips jerk but the belt holds and I go nowhere. "*SNIB-*" It pushes. *Schllllluck.*(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker penetration insertion","It forces deeper.")

($play:"sex loop","skrall fucking reluctant")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.38),(a:700,0.44),(a:1500,0.50),(a:2400,0.56),(a:3400,0.62),(a:4600,0.68),(a:5800,0.73),(a:7000,0.78),(a:8200,0.42))))(pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat missionary.jpg","The skull folds down over me.") The tapered head parts me. The first ridge drags past my entrance, a hard ring of gristled flesh, and my cunt clamps down around it and the clamping PULLS it deeper and my tits lurch on my chest. "*AAAHH-*" Second ridge. *Schlk.* My belly convulses. Third. *Schlk.* My thighs wobble against the stone, the soft fat shaking. Its oiled chest presses down onto mine, flattening my tits under its weight, the black oil smearing across my skin, my nipples crushed against its slick ribcage. The heat of it pours through me. Each ridge dragging through me one after another. My cunt squelching around every one. *Schluck. Schluck. Schluck.* I can hear myself, the wet sounds my own body makes around this thing, louder than my gasping. Its chest hums. A low buzz that vibrates through my crushed tits into my ribs. Its clicking goes rapid, *tk-tk-tk-tk-* Stops. Six. Seven. Thicker. Stretching me open. My breath comes in sharp little hitches, *hh, hh, hh,* and I can feel it pressing into places nothing has ever been, deep enough that my belly cramps around it. *Splch.* The knotted base seats against my entrance. Full length, sheathed inside me. The creature locks still above me, every joint rigid. Its weight pinning me flat, my tits squashed under its oiled chest, my bound wrists grinding into my spine, my legs spread around its crouched hips. Oil drips off its jaw onto my throat. *Drip.* Runs down into the hollow between my collarbones. *Drip.* Every throb of its alien pulse ticks against my walls. My cunt grips in slow rhythmic clenches I can't stop. *Schlk. Schlk. Schlk.* The sound of my own body working around it, squeezing and releasing, fills the quiet. The ridges begin to pulse. One by one. Starting at the base, each swell traveling up the shaft inside me, and my whole body judders on the stone under its weight, belly quaking, thighs wobbling, my breath punching out in small squeals. "*Hhn-hhn-hhnn-*" On the pipe, Snib watches, the other Skrall's claw still threatening his throat. His yellow eyes are inscrutable. He watches the creature take what the collar offered it, and says nothing.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker thrusting","It begins to move.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.56,"peakTo",0.68,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",650,"intervalTo",520,"attackMs",32,"sustainMs",55,"releaseMs",88,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.02,"intervalJitter",0.03,"depthJitter",0.02))*WHOP.* My whole body jolts up the stone from the impact, tits lurching, asscheeks rippling, my skull nearly cracking the floor. The knotted base punches against my entrance and every ridge seats deep inside me at once and a sound punches out of my chest that isn't a word, or a scream, just meat and air. "*GUHH-*" It pulls back. *SCHLLLCK.* Slams. *WHOP.* My tits flop sideways from the force and slap the stone on either side and wobble back and it's already pulling out again, the ridges dragging one by one through my clenching cunt, each hard nub of gristle popping past my entrance with a wet *schlk-schlk-schlk* before the next thrust drives them all back in. *WHOP. WHOP. WHOP.* (hidden_gem:"The pace is mechanical, and feels like an ancient ritual. Its hips have a piston-rhythm that has nothing human in it, just a thing doing what it was built to do, and my soft body takes the impact with everything it has, every ounce of wobbly flesh bouncing and clapping and rippling on every stroke, the meat of my thighs shaking, my belly quaking, my tits flopping up toward my chin on the in-stroke and slapping back down on the out.","The rite becomes a piston-paced pounding, pitiless and prehistoric, the purpose-built pelvis pumping while my pliant flesh pitches, plaps, puckers, and pours itself around every punishing plunge.")(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker mind break","The oil keeps dripping.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/pleasure/2.png")($play:"sex loop","skrall fucking pleasured")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.62,"peakTo",0.74,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",580,"intervalTo",460,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",52,"releaseMs",82,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.02,"intervalJitter",0.03,"depthJitter",0.02))The next drop of amber lands on my tongue and something gives behind my eyes. (hidden_gem:"There is one clean second where I can still feel the shape of resistance: my name, my sword, my anger, the order to endure. Then the rhythm finds the crack in it. The word *no* comes apart in my mouth before I can say it, and what rises under it is warmer, softer, and much harder to fight.","Resistance remains for one radiant second: rank, rage, remembered steel. Then the relentless rhythm reaches the rift, rends *refusal* apart, and raises a ripe, receptive rapture from the wreckage.")(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker first climax","Something breaks.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/pleasure/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.66,"peakTo",0.76,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",520,"intervalTo",420,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",50,"releaseMs",78,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.02,"intervalJitter",0.03,"depthJitter",0.02))Oil drips from its jaw-slits into my open, gasping mouth. I try to turn my head. It clamps my jaw with one hand and holds me facing up. I swallow because I can't breathe otherwise and the warmth blooms through my chest and down through my belly and into my cunt and... Oh. Oh *no.* (pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat give in to pleasure.jpg","The warmth spreads through me like poured honey.") The warmth spreads through me like poured honey, sinking into every muscle, and the next thrust doesn't hurt, and the one after that doesn't hurt, and the one after THAT sends a rolling cramp of pleasure through my whole pelvis that makes my thighs clamp around its oiled hips on their own. "*Nn- nno- nnhh-*" *WHOP. WHOP. WHOP.* My cunt is squelching around it now, loud, sloppy, the sound of my own body welcoming this thing, and I can hear it, I can hear how wet I am, the *SCHLUCK-SCHLUCK-SCHLUCK* of its ridged cock churning my insides echoing off the stone walls. Its chest vibrates against my crushed tits. That low buzz. The clicking starts again, rapid, *tk-tk-tk-tk-tk*, and its pace quickens and the pleasure crests in my belly and breaks. I cum.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",12,"peakFrom",0.94,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",660,"attackMs",40,"holdMs",100,"releaseMs",125,"gapIntensity",0.06,"peakCurve","plateau","aftershocks",3,"aftershockIntensity",0.14,"aftershockGap",950)) My cunt locks down on the ridged shaft in a convulsion so hard my back arches off the stone and(playwhenread:"squirt") a spray of my own slick fires out around the base of its cock with a humiliating *PSSSSHHHH*, spattering the rocks between my spread thighs, spraying over its oiled belly, running down the crack of my ass in hot rivulets. I am pissing myself on a monster's three-thousand-year-old cock in a ruin deep underground. "*AAAHH- AAAHHHH- HHAAA-*" My voice comes back to me off the walls, and it sounds quite broken. The squirting doesn't stop. It just keeps coming, spurting out of me in rhythmic jets with every clench of my cunt, *psssh, psssh, psssh*, soaking the stone, soaking my own thighs, the puddle spreading under my ass. The Skrall doesn't slow either. *WHOP. WHOP. WHOP.* It fucks me straight through the orgasm with that ancient piston-rhythm, driving the ridges through my spasming cunt, and the overstimulation hits like a wall and I scream and the scream turns into a moan and the moan turns into something else, something low and surrendered and awful that doesn't have Aldric in it anymore. "*Hhuuuuuuhhhh...*" More oil drips into my mouth. I don't try to turn away this time. I swallow and the warmth blooms again, deeper, heavier, sinking into my womb, and the second orgasm stacks on top of the first before the first has finished(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.58,"amplitude",0.20,"periodMs",900,"forever",true)) and my whole body convulses under the creature's weight, tits juddering against its oiled chest, my belly cramping, my legs wrapping around its hips because my legs have stopped being mine. *WHOP. SCHLUCK. WHOP. SCHLUCK.* "*Hnn- hnn- hnn- hnn-*" One sound per thrust, punched out of me, rhythmic as a bellows. I am staring up into its eye-pits and the wet glints stare back and there is something in them now, deep and old and satisfied, and I cannot look away. The third orgasm rolls through me and I squirt again, hard, a *SPLLLLSSHHH* that sprays over its belly and runs down between us in a hot sheet, and my cunt is making sounds around its cock that sound like someone churning butter, thick and wet and obscene, *GLCH-GLCH-GLCH-GLCH*, and I have lost count of my own body, lost track of where one orgasm ends and the next begins. Snib is still on the pipe. His yellow eyes are wide and wet and his loincloth is tented and his mouth hangs open and he is watching every thrust with the expression of a creature seeing something it will never be able to unsee.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker flood","The clicking changes.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.72,"peakTo",0.78,"baseFrom",0.28,"baseTo",0.24,"intervalFrom",850,"intervalTo",750,"attackMs",55,"sustainMs",130,"releaseMs",120,"rampBeats",6,"intensityJitter",0.01,"intervalJitter",0.02,"depthJitter",0.01))The Skrall's clicking changes pitch. Goes deeper and slower. *Tk... tk... tk...* Its thrusts shorten, driving deep and holding, the ridges pulsing inside me in that rolling wave, each swell pressing against my walls, and the vibration in its chest drops to a frequency I feel in my teeth and in my womb and in the base of my spine. Its jaw-slits gape wide and a sound comes out of it that is not clicking and not language and not anything I have a word for, a low grinding resonance that fills the cavern from floor to ceiling, and I feel its cock swell inside me, every ridge fattening at once, the shaft going rigid-thick, and the knotted base LOCKS against my entrance and will not pull free. It stares down at me, eye-pits burning. "*Hhhh- oh- oh god- oh-*" (sperm:"BLLLLOOOOORRRRRRRRP.",6,"splurt 3 internal")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.88),(a:500,0.46),(a:2200,0.84),(a:2750,0.42),(a:4500,0.80),(a:5100,0.38),(a:7000,0.74),(a:7650,0.34),(a:9800,0.66),(a:10500,0.28),(a:12500,0.42),(a:14000,0))))The first surge fills me so fast and so thick that my belly cramps around it. I feel it *pour*, heavy and hot, hosing into my womb with a pressure I feel in my diaphragm, and the SOUND of it filling me comes from inside my own body, from the place where its cock-head is sealed against my cervix and pumping directly into my babybox. (sperm:"GLLLRRRG",3,"splurt 2 internal")I cum again. Harder than anything before. My vision goes white and my whole body seizes and locks rigid and a spray of my own squirt fires up between our joined bodies and hits the underside of my own tits and runs down over my nipples and I am screaming with my mouth full of amber oil, "*GLLK- HHHAAAA- HAAAAAAA-*" It keeps pumping. The heavy, clotted, ancient seed pouring and pouring, my belly swelling gently from the sheer volume of it, the stuff so thick and old and ALIVE that I can feel it moving inside me, sluggish and hot, filling every space it can find. Three thousand years backed up in those heavy black balls and every drop of it pouring into me while the creature stares into my eyes with those burning wet glints and the low grinding sound vibrates through both of our bodies and into the stone. (hidden_gem:"My brain is melting. The chemicals in the oil and the chemicals in its seed are doing something to my mind that I can feel happening in real time, a warm dissolving softness spreading through my thoughts, and the part of me that is Aldric the Great is being submerged under something ancient and heavy and sweet, and I am trying to hold on to myself, trying to keep my name in my mouth, trying to...","My mind melts by measurable moments, monster-musk and millennial milk making memory malleable, smothering the man I was beneath a mellow, massive sweetness while I mouth my name, mine, mine...")"*Nnn... nnnhh... guh...*" My eyes roll back. My cunt clenches in slow waves around the knotted base and each clench milks another thick surge into my womb and the creature holds perfectly still above me and lets my body do the work, lets my own spasming cunt suck every clotted drop out of it, and the puddle of my own squirt and its overflowing seed spreads across the cold stone beneath me in a warm, reeking pool. When my eyes roll back down, it is still staring at me. Patient. Full. Sated, for the first time in longer than my civilization has existed.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker awakening","You're carried away...")($play:"song",0)

(badendsave:"vesselmaker")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","dungeon combat music")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodscared.png")(if:$abridged)[(notification:"Heads-up: this bad end gets nasty. No gore, but total loss of self: Elise's mind gets fucked out of her through her own skull and something else moves in after. If mindbreak/identity-loss isn't your jam, back out and try that fight again!")](pic:"ch05/skrall fighter 2.png","right")I drive Whisperwind at the pit of its eye. It drops. Those knees bend the wrong way and fold the whole thing flat to the floor, and my point goes over its skull into empty air. My own weight hauls me forward onto the ball of my foot, and the oil takes my heel. "Hyah-*hk*." My knee bangs the stone and I'm down on one leg with my sword arm thrown wide for balance and my hair swinging black across my eyes. The thing comes up out of its crouch in one snap. A wet black hand closes on my throat and shoves. My boots skate on the slick and I can't plant, can't set as it shoves me, and it walks me down and drives me chest-first into the ledge. My tits slap the cold stone and bounce me half off the floor, *whump*, and the air leaves me in a grunt. Whisperwind jumps out of my fist. Slides. Stops a hand from the edge. I throw myself flat after it. "*NO*-" My fingers stretch and a wide flat foot stamps down on the back of my thigh and pins me to the floor. The foot lifts, hooks the blade under its sole, and flicks it off the ledge. *Gloop.* The lake swallows it. The last thing in the world that was Aldric's in some sense, sinking into the black. "*Get off-*" I twist under the foot and swing my fist up into the side of its skull with everything these soft arms have got. My knuckles skid off the carapace and fold back the wrong way and something in my hand goes *pop*, and the thing doesn't so much as rock. I ram my elbow back into its body and the elbow slides off its grease. Both thumbs, then, straight at the two wet glints sunk a knuckle deep in its skull, the one soft thing on the whole foul carcass. It catches my wrist. The second one comes off the pipes and takes my other arm, and they haul me up onto my knees between them with my arms wrenched wide, oil sheeting off my chin, my chest heaving, hair pasted in ropes across my face. Then they go dead still, the way they go between lunges. Both blackened skulls drop down to my throat. To the collar. They breathe it in, a long slow pull through the slits along their jaws, and one of them lets out a low sound I haven't heard from either: soft, almost tender. They *know* this thing at my neck. Sheol take them, they know exactly what it is. "Snib. *SNIB.*" I get his name out raw. "The word. Give me the word, give me magic, *RIGHT NOW*!" He's halfway up the wall, both arms strangling a pipe, yellow eyes blown huge in his green face. His mouth comes open. He's going to say it. He's going to let me use my magic and I can FRY THESE- The nearer skull turns to him. A claw lifts off the floor and lays itself against the soft wattle of his throat. It rests there, patient, and the slits hiss once. The little tyrant's mouth clacks shut. They understand that putting that claw through his neck would choke me dead in my collar and waste the thing they have just decided they want, and they would rather not waste me. "Snib." My voice cracks down to nothing. I watch the math cross his warty face. His shoulders climb up around his ears and he will not look at me, and I know before he does it that he has already decided. The collar pulses cold against my throat.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker wall pinned","The collar answers him.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")(playwhenread:"evening tie up")($play:"sex loop","skrall fucking reluctant")The collar pulses cold. My wrists wrench up and lock over my head, the cup-scales crawling off my chest to do it, twin plates of black metal peeling from each breast and racing up my forearms to fuse at my crossed wrists, and my tits drop bare and heavy the same instant my arms go rigid overhead. They slam me into the wall. My tits flatten against carved K'tarran stone, both soft fuckpillows of me mashing sideways against the cold carved mouths of ancient figures, and my cheekbone cracks the wall hard enough to blur my eyes. My feet leave the ground. One of them pins my bound wrists to the stone above my head with a single oiled hand, easy, my whole weight hanging from that grip, spike heels scraping and kicking at nothing. "*GET OFF- GET OFF ME-*" The other crouches behind me on those backward knees. Its oiled claws find the edge of the drakeslip at my hip. One claw traces the metal seam where scale meets skin, slow, following the line down over the curve of my ass, and black oil drizzles off its chest and runs down the small of my back in warm rivulets, pooling in the crack between my cheeks, soaking into every seam of the armor. It grips my right asscheek. The whole handful, claws dimpling the fat, and kneads. Slow. Rolls the flesh in its grip, pulls it aside until the thong cuts deep into my crack, lets it clap back. *WHAP.* Grips the left one. Kneads that. Pulls both apart and holds them spread and I can feel the cold cave-air on everything between them and I'm screaming into the stone wall. Three thousand years since anything warm was in this thing's hands and it's in no hurry at all. The collar pulses again. The drakeslip crawls. (pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat armor offers you doggystyle 1.jpg","The collar pulses again. The drakeslip crawls.") The metal thong peels out of my crack in a slow mechanical retreat, the strip of scale pulling aside, baring me from tailbone to mound. I feel the air hit my bare cunt and my bare asshole and I buck and thrash and my heels kick sparks off the stone wall and nothing moves, nothing gives. (pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat armor offers you doggystyle 2.jpg","The metal thong peels out of my crack in a slow mechanical retreat.") "*SNIB! MAGIC! GIVE ME MY MAGIC RIGHT-*" The carved mouth beside my cheek is bubbling amber oil. Slow, warm, beading out of the stone lips in fat golden drops. The smell hits me before the oil does: peach-split, warm resin, the same sweet ancient scent that's been waking my body up since the seep at the entrance. My mouth clamps shut. The one behind me grabs my hair and shoves my face into the carved mouth. Amber oil flows over my lips, warm and thick. I hold my breath. It holds my face against the wall, patient, its clawed hand a vise in my hair, and the oil pools against my sealed lips and runs down my chin and I have to breathe, I HAVE to, and I pull air through my nose and the smell alone sends warmth flooding from my sinuses down through my chest into my belly and into my cunt and I feel myself clench. My lips part. The amber flows in. Pools on my tongue. Sweet and resinous and old and alive, and my throat swallows before I've decided anything and the warmth pours down into me and spreads. "*Mmmnnh-glk-*" (pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat cock closeup.jpg","right","The ridged shaft hangs heavy and oil-black.")Something heavy and hot lays into the crack of my bare ass from behind. The ridged shaft, oil-black, fever-warm, the full length of it settling into my spread cleft, thicker than my own wrist, the gristled ridges dragging against the sensitive skin between my cheeks as it grinds. Slow.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.28,"peakTo",0.38,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",1100,"intervalTo",950,"attackMs",90,"sustainMs",90,"releaseMs",155,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.02,"intervalJitter",0.03,"depthJitter",0.02)) An ancient creature dry-humping the crack of my ass against a wall, in no rush, the shaft sliding back and forth through the oiled cleft with a wet *SCHLRRRP* on every stroke. Its free hand grips my hip and tilts my pelvis back. The ridged head drags down through my crack, past my asshole, smearing oil, and finds the lips of my cunt from behind. Presses. "*No- no no no please-*" *SCHLLLCK.*(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker wall insertion","It forces deeper.")

($play:"sex loop","skrall fucking reluctant")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:650,0.47),(a:1400,0.53),(a:2300,0.59),(a:3300,0.65),(a:4500,0.71),(a:5800,0.77),(a:7000,0.42))))(pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat doggystyle.jpg","The tapered head pops past my entrance.") The tapered head pops past my entrance and the first ridge drags through and my whole body jolts up the wall from the force, my flattened tits scraping the carved stone, my feet kicking. *SCHLCK.* Second ridge. My cunt grips it on reflex and the grip pulls it deeper and a whimper punches out of me into the amber-slicked wall. *SCHLCK. SCHLCK. SCHLCK.* Three more ridges, each one thicker, each one popping past my entrance with a wet crunch I feel in my teeth, and my body jolts up the wall on each push, my squashed tits dragging the stone, my belly scraping carved K'tarran figures, and the sounds my own cunt makes around this thing are *GLCH-GLCH-GLCH*, loud and wet and sloppy, echoing off the passage walls. It sinks deeper. My face is pressed into the amber seep and I'm swallowing involuntarily, the sweet oil flowing into my mouth with every gasp, and the warmth has spread through my whole body now and my cunt is gripping and releasing around the ridged shaft in a rhythm I didn't set. The thing behind me grunts, once, a low grinding sound, and its oiled chest presses flat against my back and its clawed hands grip both of my hips and it pulls me BACK onto the last three inches all at once. *SPLCH.* The knotted base seats against my entrance. Full length. I'm pinned to a wall with an ancient creature's cock buried root-deep inside me and amber oil running down my chin and my tits mashed flat and my asscheeks spread around its oiled shaft and I can feel every ridge, every throb, every pulse ticking against my walls. "*Hhhnn- hnn- hnn-*" On the pipe across the passage, Snib has the other Skrall's claw at his wattle. His yellow eyes are wet and wide above his warty fingers. His loincloth is tented. The thing behind me pulls back. The ridges drag through me one by one, *schlk-schlk-schlk-schlk*, and slams home. *WHOP.* My whole body jolts up the wall. My tits bounce off the stone and slap back flat. My asscheeks ripple around the buried shaft. Amber oil sprays from my mouth onto the carved face in front of me. It pulls back. Slams.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.58,"peakTo",0.70,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",650,"intervalTo",520,"attackMs",32,"sustainMs",55,"releaseMs",88,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.02,"intervalJitter",0.03,"depthJitter",0.02)) *WHOP.* Again. *WHOP. WHOP. WHOP.* My cheek grinding the wall, my tits dragging the stone on every upstroke and slapping flat on every down, my cunt squelching around the ridged meat in a rhythm that fills the whole passage, *GLCH-GLCH-GLCH-GLCH*, and the amber keeps flowing into my mouth and I keep swallowing because I can't breathe otherwise, and the warmth has turned into something else now, something deep and rolling that builds with every thrust, and my legs are shaking and my cunt is gripping harder than I'm telling it to and a sound is climbing my throat that I have no power over. "*AAAHH- AAAHH- AAAHH-*" One cry per thrust, punched out of me against the wall, my beautiful voice making fuck-sounds in a K'tarran ruin while a three-thousand-year-old monster rails me from behind and a goblin watches with a hard-on from a pipe.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker wall orgasm","Your body betrays you.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")($play:"sex loop","skrall fucking pleasured")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.64,"peakTo",0.76,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",560,"intervalTo",440,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",52,"releaseMs",82,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.02,"intervalJitter",0.03,"depthJitter",0.02))The orgasm hits me before I know what it is. My cunt locks down on the monster's shaft in a convulsion so hard my heels slam the stone(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",14,"peakFrom",0.96,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",700,"attackMs",42,"holdMs",105,"releaseMs",130,"gapIntensity",0.06,"peakCurve","plateau","aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.15,"aftershockGap",1000)) and(playwhenread:"squirt") a spray of my own slick fires out around the base of its cock and hits the floor between my feet with a loud, splattering *PSSSSSHHHHH* that echoes off both walls of the passage. I am squirting on a monster's cock. "*HHAAA- HAAAAA-*" It doesn't care. It doesn't stop thrusting. *WHOP. WHOP. WHOP.* It fucks me straight through the orgasm, each slam jolting my squashed tits up the stone and dropping them flat, each pull-back dragging the ridges through my spasming cunt with a sloppy *SCHLCK-SCHLCK-SCHLCK*, and I'm squirting on every thrust now, each clench of my cunt wringing another hot jet out of me, *psssh, psssh, psssh*, spattering the stone, spattering my own thighs, spattering ITS thighs, the puddle spreading under us both. The amber seep keeps flowing into my open, screaming mouth. I gulp it down because I can't breathe without swallowing and every mouthful sends another wave of heat crashing down through my belly and into my cunt and the second orgasm stacks on top of the first before the first is done. "*GLLK- AAAHH- AAAHHHH- HH- HH-*" My whole body is convulsing against the wall. My tits are juddering against the carved stone, the nipples scraping the carved K'tarran mouths, my asscheeks rippling around the pumping shaft, my belly cramping, my legs kicking. I am a wobbling, squirting, gulping mess of fuckmeat pinned to a wall and cumming so hard my vision has gone to tatters at the edges. *WHOP. SCHLCK. WHOP. SCHLCK.* My third orgasm hits and I squirt so hard my knees buckle. A fat spray fires straight down between my legs and hits the stone with a *SPLASSSHH* and the smell of me, night-jasmine and salt and raw cunt. I'm drooling. Amber oil and my own spit running off my chin in long ropes onto the wall, stringing between my lips and the carved mouth, and I'm gulping and cumming and squirting and making sounds that have no words in them, just wet guttural squealing. "*GUHH- GUHH- GUHH- GUHH-*" One grunt per thrust. Punched out of me against the wall. Aldric's tactical brain is trying to hold on and I can feel it going under, thoughts breaking apart like wet bread, every calculation drowning under the rolling chemical warmth of the amber and the brutal mechanical rhythm of this creature's hips. *I am Aldric the-* *WHOP.* *I killed a drag-* *WHOP.* *Elara I'm sor-* *WHOP. WHOP. WHOP.* Nothing. White noise. My mouth hanging open against the amber seep, my eyes rolling, my tongue out and coated in golden oil, my cunt clenching in a continuous rolling spasm around the ridged shaft. I have stopped being a person and become a warm hole that squirts when you fuck it. The creature's clicking changes. Goes deep and slow. *Tk... tk... tk...* Its thrusts shorten. Driving deep and holding.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.72,"peakTo",0.80,"baseFrom",0.30,"baseTo",0.26,"intervalFrom",850,"intervalTo",750,"attackMs",55,"sustainMs",130,"releaseMs",120,"rampBeats",6,"intensityJitter",0.01,"intervalJitter",0.02,"depthJitter",0.01)) The ridges pulse inside me, swelling one by one, the wave traveling base to tip, and the vibration in its chest drops to a frequency I feel in my womb. Its clawed hands on my hips tighten until the points prick blood. Its jaw-slits gape against the back of my neck and the grinding sound that comes out of it fills the passage from floor to ceiling. The cock swells inside me. Every ridge fattening at once. The knotted base LOCKS against my entrance and will not pull free. (sperm:"BLLLLOOOOORRRRRRRRRP.",6,"splurt 3 internal")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.90),(a:500,0.46),(a:2200,0.86),(a:2750,0.42),(a:4500,0.82),(a:5100,0.38),(a:7000,0.76),(a:7650,0.34),(a:9800,0.66),(a:10500,0.28),(a:12500,0.42),(a:14000,0))))The first surge pours into me with a pressure I feel in my diaphragm. Hot and thick and clotted, ancient seed hosing directly into my womb, the stuff so dense I can feel it MOVING inside me, sluggish and alive. The sound of it filling me comes from inside my own body.(sperm:"GLLRRRRG",3,"splurt 2 internal") A squirt fires up between my belly and the wall and sprays out both sides, running down the carved figures, dripping off the ancient stone mouths. My whole body seizes rigid against the wall, every muscle locked, my tits squashed flat, my asscheeks clenched around the pulsing base, my vision whiting out. "*GLLLK- HHHAAAAA-*" It keeps pumping. Thick ancient seed pouring and pouring, filling me until I can feel it backing up against the seal of the knot and squeezing out around the base in heavy clots that run down both my thighs along with my own squirt, the two fluids mixing on my legs in a warm reeking mess. My belly swells slightly against the wall. The pressure is enormous. I feel FULL in a way that goes past physical into something older, something the collar recognizes, something my womb was reshaped to receive. The amber oil keeps flowing into my mouth and I keep swallowing and each gulp feeds the orgasm that won't stop and my cunt keeps milking and the creature keeps pumping and the puddle under us keeps spreading, my squirt and its clotted seed and the black oil dripping off both our bodies, a warm reeking lake between my dangling heels. When it finally stops, I am hanging from my pinned wrists with my cheek against the wall, mouth slack, amber running from my lips. My whole lower body is trembling in a continuous fine vibration I can't control. Its cock is still locked inside me. I can feel it softening, the ridges deflating one by one, the last thick slugs of its seed oozing past my cervix in slow pulses. My eyes roll down. I look at the puddle between my feet. Squirt and cum and oil and amber. I look at Snib on the pipe. His loincloth is soaked through with his own cum. He came watching. His yellow eyes are glazed and his warty mouth hangs open and for once in his miserable life he has absolutely nothing to say. The creature's knot softens. The cock slips free of me with a long wet *SCHLOOOOORP* and a gush of thick seed pours out of my cunt and hits the floor.(sperm:"SPLATTT",2,"splat 1")I hang there on the wall, legs spread, dripping, emptied, full, my mind a white buzzing blank where a hero used to live.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker awakening","Everything goes dark.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodscared.png")(playwhenread:"evening tie up")($play:"sex loop","skrall fucking reluctant")The collar pulses cold and my armor moves on my skin. (pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat armor offers you doggystyle 1.jpg","The collar pulses cold and my armor moves on my skin.") The drakeslip crawls apart at the crotch, the metal retreating up my hips, baring me from behind. The cup-scales peel off my chest in the same motion and crawl up both arms to meet them, fusing my wrist-cuffs together at the small of my back, locking my arms and dropping both breasts bare and swinging in the same cold second. The Skrall drives me face-first into the carved wall. (pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat armor offers you doggystyle 2.jpg","The drakeslip crawls apart at the crotch, the metal retreating up my hips.") My bare tits flatten against cold stone with a wet *SLAP*. My cheek mashes against a carved K'tarran face, its mouth open, its stone lips inches from mine, and amber oil weeps from the carved mouth in a slow steady pour. Its hands find my ass. Both palms spread my cheeks apart, slow, the thumbs sinking deep into the fat of me, and it holds me open and just LOOKS. I can feel it behind me, crouched on those backward knees, its jaw-slits pulling long breaths off my bare cunt, tasting three thousand years of nothing and then THIS, this warm wet thing pinned to a wall for it, and a low clicking starts in its chest, rapid and hungry. "*GET YOUR THRAKKING CLAWS OFF ME-*" I kick back with the spike heel. It catches nothing, because the heels are gone. My legs swing uselessly, my tits grinding the stone, my asscheeks jiggling in its grip as I thrash. Black oil drizzles off its chest and runs warm down the crack of my ass and over my bare lips and the feel of it, slick and alive, makes my whole body flinch. Amber oil pours into my screaming mouth. The carved face at the wall weeps it directly past my lips, warm and resinous, flooding my tongue and the back of my throat. I choke. Try to turn my head. The Skrall's free hand clamps the back of my skull and holds my face against the stone mouth. More amber. I swallow because the alternative is drowning in it and the warmth blooms instantly through my chest and down through my belly and into my cunt and my whole body goes hot and loose and wrong. (pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat cock closeup.jpg","right","The ridged shaft hangs heavy and oil-black.")Then its cock lands between my asscheeks.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.26,"peakTo",0.38,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",1100,"intervalTo",950,"attackMs",90,"sustainMs",90,"releaseMs",155,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.02,"intervalJitter",0.03,"depthJitter",0.02)) It's *heavy*. The full ridged length dropping into my spread cleft, fever-hot against my skin, and it drags itself back through the crack in one long slow stroke, every ridge catching my rim on the way past, *SCHLIIICK*, and forward again, *SCHLIIICK*, coating itself in my slick mixed with its own black oil, the sound filling the passage. "No- no no no- *MASTER GIVE ME MAGIC-*" Up the pipe, Snib has both arms locked around the metal, his face green-white with terror, and the second Skrall's claw dimples his throat and he does not speak. The cock-head notches against my entrance from behind. Pushes. *Schlllck.*(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker stair insertion","The first ridge follows.")

($play:"sex loop","skrall fucking reluctant")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.40),(a:650,0.47),(a:1400,0.54),(a:2300,0.61),(a:3300,0.67),(a:4400,0.73),(a:5600,0.78),(a:6600,0.44))))(pic:"ch05/bad end/skrall defeat doggystyle.jpg","The tapered head parts me from behind.") The tapered head parts me and the first ridge pops past my entrance and I feel it, the hard gristled ring of flesh dragging through me, and my cunt clamps down on it involuntarily. "*NO! GET IT OUT! GET IT-*" Second ridge. *Schlk.* My whole body lurches forward against the wall, my tits dragging upward across the carved stone, my nipples scraping the carvings. "*NO- NNH-*" Third. My cunt PULLS. The clamping drags it deeper against my will. Fourth. Fifth. Each one popping past my entrance, each one thicker than the last, stretching me open, and the amber is working inside me now, the warmth spreading, my muscles going soft. "*Don't- hh- hhh- please-*" It starts to thrust.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.58,"peakTo",0.70,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",650,"intervalTo",520,"attackMs",32,"sustainMs",55,"releaseMs",88,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.02,"intervalJitter",0.03,"depthJitter",0.02)) *WHOP.* My whole body slams forward into the wall. My tits squash flat and bounce off the stone and squash flat again. My asscheeks ripple from the impact, the fat of them clapping back against its oiled pelvis. The ridged cock drives to the root inside me and every ridge seats at once and the sound that punches out of me fills the ancient passage. *WHOP. WHOP. WHOP.* It fucks me against the wall with that mechanical piston-rhythm, its oiled pelvis hammering my spread ass, and my tits drag the carved stone on every thrust, scraping upward and slapping back down, and the wet meaty sounds of its cock churning my insides mix with the *clap-clap-clap* of my asscheeks and the *schluck-schluck-schluck* of the ridges dragging through my clenching cunt. "*Stop- stop- nnh-*"(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker stair mind break","The amber reaches deeper.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)*SCHLLLOOORP.* The knotted base pops free and a thick rope of its seed pours out of me and hits the stone between my heels, yellowy-grey and clotted, reeking of something fungal that has been fermenting in the creature's balls since before Zaelasians learned to write. More follows, slopping down the insides of both thighs in heavy curtains, chunky, too thick to run properly, hanging off my swollen lips in fat strands that stretch and swing and drop. My legs give. I slide down the wall, my tits dragging the carved stone, and hit my knees in the warm spreading puddle of it. The stuff is still oozing out of me, pooling under me, and the heat of it against my thighs makes my cunt clench and push out another thick glob. (sperm:"Splut.",2,"splat 1")(hidden_gem:"I'm kneeling in a three-thousand-year-old creampie, shaking, slack-mouthed, amber and seed drooling off my chin.","I grovel in a generations-old gush of grey-green gamete, glassy-eyed and gaping while godseed gruels down my chin.") The Skrall crouches behind me. Both hands come around my skull, long black fingers lacing over my temples, and a vibration starts in its palms, deep and low, buzzing through my skull into the soft of my brain. The cavern dims. "*Nn...*" My eyes roll up. The buzzing fills everything, warm and heavy, pressing my thoughts flat, and the last thing I see is Snib's yellow eyes staring down from the pipe before the dark takes me under.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker awakening","You wake up somewhere else.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/shocked/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)(pic:"ch05/vault.jpg")($play:"song","snib dominates")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience") Gold light. Warm stone under my knees. Everything is soft. The edges of the chamber swim when I turn my head. My skin gleams in the otherworldly glow, oiled from my scalp to my toes, slick and golden, the scent of resin so thick it sits on my tongue. I'm naked and kneeling on a raised stone platform, in some underground chamber carved in pale stone. I have no idea how I got here. *Tk. Tk. Tk.* The clicking is everywhere. Dozens of them crouched in a wide ring around the dais, oil-black bodies hunched low, their eye-pits fixed on me, their cocks jutting between their knees. They don't move or approach. They are waiting. I look for Snib. He's across the chamber. His wrists are bound above his head to a rusted chain, his stubby body dangling, toes barely touching the stone. Above his skull, a metal spike hangs from a ceiling-lever on a crude pulley. One Skrall holds the lever in both claws. If the claws open, the spike drops through the top of Snib's head. His yellow eyes are huge and wet and fixed on me. I try to stand. My legs don't answer. The muscles fire, I *feel* them fire, but nothing moves below my waist. (hidden_gem:"The oil has done this. Days of it now, breathed and swallowed and worked into my skin by hands that meant exactly this, and it has gone all the way through me, softening whatever it touches into something that gives and keeps giving, muscle unlearning that it was ever meant to hold a shape.","The slick has steeped me for days, sipped, swallowed, and smeared into skin until sinew softens, strength surrenders, and every serviceable muscle simply forgets how to stay solid.") I am kneeling, displayed, paralyzed from the hips down, and when I look at myself I see my tits hanging heavy and golden, gleaming in the amber light, their fullness sitting round and bare, no weapon, no armor, nothing between me and these horrible, evil creatures. If it can do this to a thigh, to a knee, I understand with a cold drop in my stomach exactly what it must be able to do to the soft, unguarded thing behind an ear.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker shaman","One of them separates from the ring.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")One of them separates from the ring.($play:"song","snib dominates") It's taller than the others. Draped in strips of dried hide and bone fragments tied with sinew, something that has been put on and taken off a thousand times in the dark. It crosses the floor toward the dais and removes these coverings as it walks, piece by piece, the hide strips falling, the bone fragments clicking on the stone, until the body underneath is exposed. It is the most horrible thing I have seen down here. (hidden_gem:"Spindly. The ribs showing through oil-black skin like fingers pressing out from inside. The jaw is longer than the others, the lipless teeth more prominent, the skull narrower. Its eye-pits burn a faint purple, deep-set, fixed on me.","Spindly, starved-looking, skeletal: sharpened ribs strain through soot-slick skin, a stretched skull smiles with saw-teeth, and sunken violet sight fixes silently on me.") (pic:"ch05/bad end/brainfuck cock approaches.jpg","right","Between its legs, a cock unlike any other I've seen on these creatures.")Between its legs, a cock unlike any other I've seen on these creatures. Purple. A dark, bruised, mottled purple, with veins visible across its surface like cracks in old pottery. At the tip, a bead of something white. It wells at the slit and stretches toward the floor and holds, swinging, an inch-long strand of milky fluid that catches the light. The clicking in the chamber rises. Every Skrall in the ring clicks in unison, a rapid *tk-tk-tk-tk-tk* that fills the carved walls and bounces. The shaman's feet find the dais. It crouches in front of me. Eye-pits level with mine. One clawed hand takes my jaw, thumb and fingers, tilts my head to the left. Studies the side of my skull. Tilts my head to the right. Studies that as well. Selects a side. It releases my jaw. My head lolls. I'm so woozy the chamber keeps tilting. It takes its purple cock in one claw and angles the dripping head toward the left side of my skull. Toward my *ear.*(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker last spell","The tip touches your ear.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/shocked/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)(pic:"ch05/bad end/brain fuck press against ear.jpg","The milky tip touches the rim of my ear canal.")The milky tip touches the rim of my ear canal and the warmth is immediate, spreading inward, and the clicking swells to a roar around me. "*Wh... what are you...*"(playwhenread:"brainfuck about to insert") It presses.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.16),(a:600,0.24),(a:1400,0.34),(a:2400,0.46),(a:3500,0.58),(a:4700,0.68),(a:5400,0.72)))) The cockhead seats against my ear opening and PUSHES. The pressure builds instantly, deep, spreading through the side of my skull, behind my eardrum, into places that have no name and no business being touched by anything. The white fluid beads at the seal between its flesh and my ear and runs warm down my jaw and neck. My vision doubles. The chamber splits into two overlapping images that won't line up. I am going to die. I will never see Elara again, and the last thing I feel will be pressure in my... "*USE IT! USE YER MAGIC!*" Snib's voice cracks across the chamber like a whip, raw and shredded. He's thrashing in his chains, wrists bleeding, the spike swinging above his skull, and he doesn't care. "*DO IT COW-TITS! KILL 'EM! KILL 'EM ALL! I DON'T CARE! JUST DO IT! DO IT!!!*" The collar pulses warm. Power floods into my hands. My palms go white-hot. Fire blooms in my fingers, and the memory of a hundred battles rushes through me like water through a broken dam. My mouth opens. I draw breath to scream the word that will set this whole oil-soaked chamber ablaze... "*IGNI-*"(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker breach","'...SURGE!'")

($play:"sex loop","brainfucking resistant")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/shocked/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.32),(a:120,0.84),(a:420,0.62),(a:850,0.42),(a:1300,0.26),(a:1800,0.16))))(pic:"ch05/bad end/brainfuck penetration.jpg","SCHLLLORP.") "-gggllhkk." <span class='brainfuck'>The word for fire turns to porridge in my mouth.</span> (hidden_gem:"A sad little gout of orange sputters from my palm and dies like a candle dropped in milk, and the power is RIGHT THERE in my fingers but my brain can't hold the shape of the thought because something is pressing INTO it from the left side of my skull.","A feeble flare farts from my fingers and fails, fire still flooding my fist but fleeing every fractured thought as foreign flesh forces farther into my skull.") The clicking from the chamber cuts in half. My left ear is full of cock and the world goes quiet on that side, just gone, replaced with a deep wet hum and the sound of my own pulse hammering against the shaft, *thm-thm-thm-thm,* my heartbeat felt through the veins on the cock inside my skull. I try to scream Ignisurge again. I KNOW the word. I have the power. The collar gave it to me. I open my mouth and what comes out is "*Iggghhh... iglll... nnnnhh...*" <span class='brainfuck'>The shape of the thought won't hold. It's like trying to grip water.</span> The fire is RIGHT THERE in my hands and I can't... I can't say the...(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker squirt reflex","The cock shifts inside you.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")The cock shifts inside me. A leg kicks. My left leg, the one that wouldn't move, just KICKS, hard, my heel cracking the stone, and I didn't tell it to do that. My right eye twitches. I taste something that isn't in my mouth. I smell night-jasmine so strong it burns my sinuses and then the smell vanishes. "*Nnnnhhhh...*" The cock meets resistance inside me. I feel it happen. The tapered head pressing against something SOFT, something that gives but doesn't want to give, and the pressure builds behind my left eye until the eye waters and my vision smears. The creature presses harder. Its claws grip the sides of my skull, thumbs hooked under my jaw, holding my head still like a melon it's about to seed. Precum leaks from the tip inside me. I feel it SPREADING, warm and slick, greasing the path, soaking into my think-meat, and the intimacy of that sensation is so far beyond anything I have a name for that my mind just... stops trying to categorize it. <span class='brainfuck'>Something is leaking inside my HEAD. Something is making itself comfortable IN THERE.</span> The cock presses through, slowly. <span class='brainfuck'>The tissue parts around the head the way wet clay parts around a thumb, and I feel every ridge of it dragging through the softest thing I have ever been, the veins embossing themselves into the folds that hold my name and my wife's face and the word for fire and the taste of my mother's bread, and the smeared residue of ancient precum coats each fold as the shaft drags past it, claiming it, MARKING it, leaving a film of old-creature slick on every thought it crosses.</span> I taste iron. Then I taste nothing. Then I taste something sweet I've never tasted before and it's SOMEONE ELSE'S taste, leaking off the cock into my grey matter. I smell Elara's hair. Warm linen, her soap, the skin underneath. The memory is vivid enough to touch. <span class='brainfuck'>The cock drags across where that smell lives and smears it under the belly of the shaft like a boot smearing a flower into mud and the smell is GONE, replaced by the musk of ancient cock-grease rubbed into my most private tissue, and my cunt fires a hard wet jet onto the stone, *PSSSHHH,* squirting out the last trace of that scent as if my body is trying to expel what's being taken.</span> I try to hold on to her face. Elara. Green eyes. The freckle on her... (hidden_gem:"The cock shifts and the freckle smears and there is DICKCHEESE in the groove where my wife's face used to live, ancient grey-green smegma from a creature that hasn't washed in three thousand years rubbed off the shaft and sitting in the most sacred fold of my think-meat, and her face is under it somewhere but I can't reach it, can't DIG through the filth to find it, and my cunt fires again, *SPLLSSHH,* and my legs are kicking and I am cumming out the last clear image of the woman I love.","The dirty dick drags through devotion itself, daubing three-thousand-year-old dickcheese deep into the delicate divot where my darling's face dwelled; I dig for her beneath the dreck while my disloyal cunt drenches the dais and the dear image dissolves.") The head finds my right ear canal from the inside. Presses against the drum.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker through skull","*PLOP.*")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")($play:"sex loop","brainfucking mindbroken")(pic:"ch05/bad end/brainfuck all the way through pop.jpg","The head pushes out and into the cold air.") *PLOP.* The head pushes out and into the cold air and I FEEL it exit, feel the seal break, and now the cock is through me, through my SKULL, one ear to the other, the shaft filling the width of my head, and all external sound dies.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker memory rupture","Everything goes silent.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.58,"peakTo",0.68,"baseFrom",0.22,"baseTo",0.18,"intervalFrom",1100,"intervalTo",900,"attackMs",90,"sustainMs",100,"releaseMs",165,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.02,"intervalJitter",0.03,"depthJitter",0.02))No clicking. No Snib screaming. Nothing. Just my pulse against the shaft, *thm-thm-thm*, and the wet slow *schlck* of the veins settling into my tissue, and my own breathing through my nose, ragged and too fast. I try to think. The word for fire is... the word... I knew it. I KNEW it a second ago. It started with... The cock pulls back an inch and pushes through again. *SCHLCK.* (playwhenread:"squirt")(pic:"ch05/bad end/brainfuck squirt.jpg","I see liquid spray from my cunt in a hard jet.") My whole body convulses. Both legs kick. My tits bounce from the convulsion and I watch them bounce because I can't tip my chin anymore, my head is HELD by the cock running through it, and between my paralyzed, spread thighs I see liquid spray from my cunt in a hard jet and hit the stone of the dais, *PSSSSSHHHH*, loud enough that I hear it through my own bones, and my cunt is clenching around nothing, gripping air, and the spray fans across the stone in a spreading puddle. "*Aaaa-aaaa-aaaa-*" *GLCH.* Another thrust. Another spray, *SPLLSSH*, my cunt squirting in rhythm, and every thrust fucks a piece loose and my body squirts it out onto the stone. <span class='brainfuck'>I'm cumming my own thoughts out through my cunt.</span> Elara used to... she made something. In the kitchen. It smelled like warm bread and... *SCHLCK.* Gone. The cock dragged through where that lived and I felt it SMEAR across the shaft and there's warm wet nothing where the memory was, and my cunt fires one more weak jet, squirting the last trace of that smell onto the dais. Three years at the... the tall building. Where the books were. The word for the book-building is... *SCHLRP.* My legs are... someone's legs are kicking and splashing through her own squirt-puddle and there are tits below me swinging and they're... whose tits are those. The big ones. The heavy golden ones bouncing with every thrust. Mine? Is this body... The creature's balls mash warm against the side of my skull on every push-through, heavy and dense, settling against my cheekbone and lifting, settling and lifting, and it is pleasuring itself with my skull-pussy the way the green thing pleasures itself with my... the lower... the wet part that keeps... *SCHLCK.* It shifts angle. Tilts the cock UP inside my head. My body hoists off the stone, knees lifting, my whole weight suspended from the shaft through my skull, tits dangling and dripping, cunt still dribbling weak pulses beneath me, *psh, psh*, and my hands are open and there IS power in them but the word... the word had letters... letters are... thepressurethepressurethepressure My legs are kicking on their own. Both of them. Twitching and kicking at the stone, splashing through my own puddle of squirt, and my cunt won't stop clenching, *PSSH, PSSH, PSSH,* a jet with every slow thrust, and the creature's balls mash against the side of my skull on every push-through, heavy and warm, I can feel them settle and lift, settle and lift, and it is pleasuring itself with my head the way Snib pleasures himself with my... with my... <span class='brainfuck'>What was I.</span> I was tall. Someone was tall. There was a man who was tall and he... she... I... The cock shifts angle. Tilts up. My body hoists slightly, my knees lifting off the stone, the shaft through my skull LIFTING me by the head, and I hang there, kneeling but raised, my weight supported by the cock transfixing me ear to ear, my tits hanging down and swaying, my cunt still spraying in weak pulses onto the dais below me, *psh, psh, psh,* and my hands are open and there is fire in them, there is POWER in them, but I can't... the word... the word starts with a letter and the letter is...(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker skull climax","It stops.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.34),(a:500,0.26),(a:1000,0.18),(a:1600,0))))It stops. Holds still. Deep. Centered in my thought-hole. The throb changes. Slower. Fatter.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker skull creampie","The first surge hits.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:200,0.88),(a:700,0.48),(a:2100,0.84),(a:2700,0.44),(a:4300,0.80),(a:5000,0.40),(a:6800,0.75),(a:7600,0.36),(a:9600,0.68),(a:10500,0.30),(a:12600,0.58),(a:13600,0.24),(a:15400,0))))I feel the slit dilate inside my skull, the opening yawning wide in the center of my head, and the first clotted surge of something ancient and backed-up pumps into my grey-slop. It stops moving. A grinding chitter from its throat. The sound a creature makes when it's about to relieve itself. <span class='brainfuck'>The slit dilates inside my skull. I feel it yawn open against the soft of me, a blunt wet mouth opening in the center of my mind, and the first thick clot of ancient nut-sludge pumps out of it and into my brain.</span> (sperm:"BLRRRRRRRP.",5,"splurt 4 internal")<span class='brainfuck'>It's cumming in my head.</span> (pic:"ch05/bad end/brainfuck skull creampie.jpg","It's cumming in my head.") (hidden_gem:"I feel it LAND. Dense, hot, sticky beyond anything I have a comparison for, like tar mixed with hot porridge, seeping into the creases of my brain-pussy, filling the folds, pressing into the tissue and sinking, sinking, settling PERMANENT into places that will never be clean again. It is pissing its cum into my head. It is using my skull as a latrine for three thousand years of backed-up seed and each clotted spurt sits heavier than the last.","Clotted creature-cum CRASHES into my cranium, caustic and custard-thick, creeping through every cerebral crease, cramming the cavities of my consciousness with centuries of crusty cock-slurry until my skull becomes its cesspit.") (sperm:"BLURRRRP.",4,"splurt 1 internal")Thicker. Lumpier. I feel individual CLOTS in it, dense wads of ancient sperm that sit on my grey matter like hot slugs and slowly sink in, and wherever they sink a thought dissolves and something else forms, old and cold and not mine. The creature grunts. Its balls clench against the side of my skull, heavy and hot, contracting, wringing themselves out into me, and I feel the load travel up the shaft through my head, feel the urethra bulge against my think-meat as each rope passes through on its way to the dump-site in my center. (sperm:"BLRRRT.",3,"splurt 2 internal")The sperm is so thick and so old it moves SLOW through the tissue, crawling through the folds of my brain-cunt in fat sticky fingers that grip and soak and won't let go. Wherever it settles it hardens slightly, crusting at the edges while the center still seeps, a permanent deposit of monster nut-butter baked into the tissue that holds my name. "*Mmmnnn... nn... nnhh...*" <span class='brainfuck'>Each spurt takes something and leaves something.</span> A hot wad sinks into where my wedding night lived and the memory fizzes and pops. My cunt fires weakly onto the stone below me, *psh... psh...*, squirting in rhythm with the creature's dumping, each brain-spurt producing a cunt-spurt, my body treating the skull-insemination as a breeding event and responding with everything it has. (sperm:"BLUPPP.",3,"splurt 1 internal")I see a Round Chamber. Two figures entering under a wager. The loser folding into the winner's body. The word for it is... the word is... White towers under a different sun. I SEE them. The sperm brought them, fat old thoughts riding in on backed-up seed, swimming into the empty places. Empt*ied* places. (sperm:"BLRRT.",2,"splurt 2 internal")Oil-channels running amber through halls a mile deep. Carved walls, bone-white, covered in figures. <span class='brainfuck'>The seed is pissing MEMORIES into me, ancient ones, treating my skull-womb as storage for thoughts that have nowhere else to live, and my cunt sprays one more *SPLLSSHHH* onto the dais.</span> (sperm:"BLRT.",2,"splurt 3 internal")Women in collars. Beautiful. Kneeling. Their faces proud on bodies that someone reshaped. I know these women. The cum TELLS me their names and their names stick to my grey-slop like flies in honey. (sperm:"BLRT.",2,"splurt 4 internal")A Round Chamber. Two figures entering. A wager. The cum squelches deeper and I finally understand what a collar IS, what it was MADE for, in a way I never... I never could have... the knowledge seats itself in the folds and settles and it is mine now, permanent, sticky with ancient seed. (sperm:"BLRT.",2,"splurt 1 internal")Three buried Heads beneath the desert. <span class='brainfuck'>The thought-batter soaks in and the names FORM, solid, sitting in the empty grooves where the word for fire used to be, and my headpussy is so cum-logged now that every thought moves slow and thick and swims through seed to reach me.</span> "*Mmmm... Maraan...*" The name surfaces from the mess inside my skull and sits in my mouth like a stone. Behind it, pressing forward through the cum, two more are forming.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker final squirt","The last of you goes under.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")(pic:"ch05/bad end/brainfuck squirt closeup.jpg","The seed is pissing memories into me.") <span class='brainfuck'>I know things now that I did not know before, and I have lost things I will never get back, and the creature is still buried in my head-pussy with its balls warm against my cheek, and the ancient seed is still settling, still soaking, still writing over who I was with who they were.</span>(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker withdrawal","The creature withdraws.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")($play:"sex loop",0)(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.58),(a:350,0.48),(a:900,0.40),(a:1600,0.32),(a:2500,0.24),(a:3600,0.14),(a:5000,0))))The cock withdraws. *SCHLLLRRRRP.* A long wet drag through the center of my skull, the ridges popping past tissue one by one, and the head exits my right ear with a soft *plop* and a gush of thick white seed that runs warm down my neck and pools in the hollow of my collarbone. The left ear releases next, the shaft sliding free, and the sudden absence is enormous, a cathedral opening inside my head where the pressure lived. I blink. The chamber is very beautiful. The carved walls curve upward in pale arcs, and the oil-channels in the floor run with warm amber that catches the light and throws it, and the lesser ones are crouched in their ring with their faces pressed to the stone and they are correct to be there. I rise from the dais. The legs answer at once, easy, obedient, and some small drowned part of me understands why even as the rest of me stops caring: the paralysis was never the oil fighting muscle. It was muscle fighting the oil, some last cornered scrap of Aldric bracing every fiber against the thing trying to move him, and that scrap is gone now, cooked out through an ear and replaced with seed that agrees with everything. Nothing is straining against anything anymore. That is why I can stand. The golden oil on my skin catches the low light and I look down at my hands and they are fine-boned and strong and lovely. The body beneath them curves in ways that are pleasing and functional. Someone crafted this vessel with considerable skill. The shaman crouches before me. His cock hangs wet and softening, white seed still dripping from the tip: the same seed that leaks from my own earlobe. My fingers wrap his shaft and slide down in a slow stroke, pressing the last of the spend from the slit, and the gesture settles into my palm like a word I have always known. I lean forward and press my mouth to his lipless teeth. My tongue finds the needles and runs along them and the kiss is sloppy and deep, and I moan into his jaw-slits and feel him shudder under me. *Tk-tk-tk.* I pull back. White strings connect my lips to its teeth and snap. I wipe my mouth with the back of my wrist and look at the seed on my skin. Words come to my lips. "*Vesh-thurra kel. Maraan kha'zuun.*" The chamber goes silent. Every skull in the ring lifts and then lowers again, pressing to the floor, and the sound that comes from them is a single long exhalation, a breath held for millenia finally released.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker collar opens","The chamber understands.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")I run my hands down over my breasts. The oil is warm and the flesh is heavy and generous and my fingertips find the nipples and circle them slowly, feeling them stiffen, and the sensation is clean and correct. I cup the weight and let it fall. The bounce is deep and satisfying. I touch the band at my throat. My fingers know the script moving under the surface. Seventeen words open it, for a petitioner. For a captive begging leave of a master who is not present to grant it. I know all seventeen, and I know something better: I know the hand that forged it, the name of the priest who set the closing law, the name of the Sleeper whose pattern runs through the metal, and a collar knows its own maker's household when it feels it standing over it. It does not need seventeen words from me. It needs one, spoken by someone it recognizes as blood of the house that built it, and I have paid for that recognition with everything I used to be. "*Kha.*" The script flares white. The band splits at the back and falls open and drops to the stone of the dais and clatters and rolls and settles at my feet, a dark circle on pale stone. I am not a vessel, I am the one who *makes* vessels.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker judgment","Walk across the chamber.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")I step off the dais and walk across the chamber. The oil is warm under my bare feet. My hips roll and my breasts swing and the body moves well, balanced, calibrated, every proportion harmonized for beauty and function. (pic:"ch05/every proportion harmonized for beauty and function.png") The lesser ones press their faces deeper to the stone as I pass. A small green creature hangs from its chains across the chamber. It is making sounds. "Elise! *ELISE!* Yer alive! Thank Storak, yer ALIVE! Get me down, get me down, cow-tits, GET ME DOWNNN!" I look at it. It is small and green and frightened. Its yellow eyes are very wet. I look up at the spike suspended above its skull. The lever beside it, held in a lesser one's claws. I take the lever. The metal is cool in my palm. The small green creature looks up at me. Its mouth is open. It seems to be expecting something. I smile down at it. I feel the warmth in my own face and it is genuine and the body's full lips curve beautifully around it. Then, I release the lever. The spike drops. The sounds stop.(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker ending","Turn to the chamber.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/3.png")I turn to face the chamber. Their bark-rough skin, their matted oil-weighted hair, their bent and ruined posture. Beneath the black crust I know what they were. The bone structure is still there, fine beneath the grime, long-limbed under the hunch, extended by the years. Children left in the dark with the old machineries, instructed never to die. "*Kel'veshaan.*" The ones who kept the watch. I speak it and a sound moves through the prostrate ring, a low keen through dozens of jaw-slits, grief and recognition tangled into one exhalation. They have not heard that word spoken correctly in three thousand years, as their mouths are no longer able to speak so delicately as I can. The shaman stands at my right, his head bowed, his spent cock hanging soft, and his seed still runs warm from my ears down my neck and between my breasts and I let it run because it belongs there. "Zur kel'thuun veshaat?" Where is your lord? The ring parts. He steps through the gap, the eldest keeper. The one who sat the longest in the dark. His body is crusted with three thousand years of layered oil, his skull-face broader and more deeply ridged than any of his subjects, and his eye-pits burn a steady red that throws my shadow long across the stone behind me. He stands double the height of this body I wear, yet I am not afraid. His chest is carved with old scars in patterns I can readw, rank-marks, the glyph of the western Head scored deep across his sternum. He is ancient and quite magnificent. Between his legs, his cock rises. It peels off his thigh in slow wet jerks, thickening, lengthening, the trunklike shaft standing out dark and heavy and engorged, and the head swells to a blunt purple-black crown that splits a thick bead of clear slick and lets it run. It is enormous and I want it inside me. His jaw-slits pull a long breath off my skin and a sound comes from deep in his chest, not clicking, not language, a low resonant hum of hunger and joy. I walk toward him. "Kha'maat thurren. Zel vesh." I am here. Fill me. For we must make the first children! His clawed hands close on my hips and lift me off the stone. (set:$bad_end to (dm:"title","Vesselmaker"))(display:"unlock bad end")(gameover:"ch05/bad end/vesselmaker gameover.jpg")

(badendsave:"kings scabbard")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"song","snib dominates")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodscared.png")(if:$abridged)[(notification:"Heads-up: this bad end gets nasty. No gore (I don't really like it), but extreme loss of control and body-part loss (I *do* like that), and becoming a monster's cock cozy. If that is not your jam, back out and try that fight again!")](pic:"ch05/bad end/pre amp.png","right")The chamber is old in a way that makes the rest of the ruin feel young. The platform in its center is carved from a single block of pale stone, four grooves cut deep for wrists and ankles, and overhead four blades hang on mechanisms I can hear ticking in the dark. They glow faint amber along their edges. The room was built for this. This exact thing. I am naked on the stone. They stripped the armor off me in the tunnel, every scrap of black scale and chain, and I am spread wide in the grooves with my wrists and ankles locked and every part of me bare and cold and presented to the ceiling. Across the chamber floor Snib lies gagged with a cracked leather strap so old it's nearly powder, held flat by a lesser Skrall crouching on his back. His yellow eyes are huge and wet above the gag. The King circles the platform. (hidden_gem:"Its burned face is worse than before. The lacquer has melted into new ridges down the left side of its skull, charred and cracked, one jaw-hinge fused half-shut, and the red in both pits burns steady and patient. It looks at my right arm the way a butcher looks at a joint of meat. Then my left. Then my legs. Taking its time. It has all the time in the world and I am not going anywhere.","Its blistered black face has baked into worse brutality, burned lacquer buckled over bone and one broken jaw bound shut. Butcher-bright eyes browse my right arm, both legs, my left, selecting bites while boundless time belongs to it.") The mechanism over my right arm groans.(playwhenread:"armor_break")(simple_option:"05 skrall king right arm","The blade comes down.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/shocked/1.png")($play:"song","snib dominates")($play:"sex loop","sever moaning struggling during cutting")The blade comes down glowing blue(playwhenread:"cut 1 limb") and the sensation is not what I expect. Not a cut. Not pain. A disconnection, like someone reaching into my shoulder and pulling a rope out of a socket, and then the heat floods the stump and the flesh closes over it smooth and pink and sealed as the glow passes through, and my right arm is lying on the stone beside me with the fingers still curled the way they were curled in the groove. I make a fist. (pic:"ch05/bad end/right arm.jpg") I feel my fingers close. I feel the nails dig into the palm. I feel the tendons pull. And I look down at the smooth round stump at my shoulder and my fingers are not there and have never been there and the fist I am making is a ghost made of nothing. The scream that comes out of me fills the chamber and bounces off the carved ceiling and comes back and fills it again and I am thrashing, yanking at the left cuff, trying to reach for my own arm lying there on the stone with its fingers still curled and the stump still warm. The King crouches beside the platform and picks it up. Turns it over in its massive scarred hand. Examines the wrist, the fingers, the soft pale forearm, the way you examine a drumstick before you eat it. "*GLACIESHOLD!*"(playwhenread:"ice magic") Everything I have left pours out of my left palm and hits the King's burned face point blank and ice crackles across the charred ridges and crusts over one eye-pit and I PUSH, I pour, I scream through it. (pic:"ch05/skrall king closeup.jpg","right")It grins. The lipless teeth spread wide and it bites into the ice crusting its own jaw and CRUNCHES it between its molars and swallows. Chips of frost fall off its chin. The red pit blinks clear beneath. My magic ate its face ten minutes ago and the face just ate my magic back and the grin does not change. The second mechanism groans.(simple_option:"05 skrall king left arm","The second blade drops.")

($play:"sex loop","sever moaning struggling during cutting")I know what is coming and the knowing is worse. The blade drops(playwhenread:"cut 2 limb") and the disconnection hits my left shoulder and the heat seals it and now I have nothing above my chest. Both arms lying on either side of me, palms up, still warm. My chest heaves and there is nothing on either side of the heaving. I reach for the edge of the platform and the signal goes out and nothing answers and nothing will ever answer and the sob that breaks out of me is so raw it hurts my own ears. I look at Snib. His yellow eyes are wet above the gag. His whole green face is twisted and for once in his miserable little life he looks like he would help me if he could and he cannot.(simple_option:"05 skrall king right leg","The third blade drops.")

($play:"sex loop","sever moaning struggling during cutting")The third blade. My right leg goes with a jolt of wrongness(playwhenread:"cut 3 limb") that travels all the way up into my hip, and the lightness hits immediately, my body suddenly too light on the stone, unanchored, and the phantom is my toes curling in a foot that is lying on the stone two feet from the knee it grew out of.(simple_option:"05 skrall king left leg","The fourth blade drops.")

(pic:"ch05/bad end/severed blade falls.png")($play:"sex loop","sever moaning struggling during cutting")The fourth blade takes the last one(playwhenread:"cut 4 limb") and then all four cuffs open at once because there is nothing left in them to hold.(simple_option:"05 skrall king trunk","Try to move.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/defeated/1.png")I wriggle. ($play:"sex loop","sever moaning struggling during cutting")(pic:"ch05/bad end/severed lying on ground realizing.png","A wobbling, heaving, limbless trunk.") (hidden_gem:"That is what I do. My torso rocks on the stone, my hips shift, my tits roll with the motion, my belly flexes, and I move perhaps an inch across the cold surface. I am a trunk. The muscles that would push are lying on the stone around me. The bones that would lever are separated from me by four sealed stumps. I wriggle again and my ass clenches and I move another inch and the King makes a sound like two stones grinding together and I understand that it is laughing at me.","Wriggling is my whole world now: waist writhing, womb wobbling, breasts wallowing while I win one worthless inch. My working limbs wait elsewhere, and when another wretched wriggle wins another inch, the watching King wheezes its grinding-stone wit.") It puts one massive hand on my belly and rolls me onto my front.(playwhenread:"fall") My tits squash against the cold stone and my face presses flat and my stumps flail at nothing and it SPANKS me,(playwhenread:"spank yelp 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.55,"pulseMs",145,"count",1,"rest",0)) a full open-palm crack across both cheeks, and the sound fills the chamber like a gunshot. I cannot brace. Cannot tighten against the coming blow. Cannot pull away. My asscheeks ripple out from the print of its hand and rock back to still and it spanks again, CRACK,(playwhenread:"spank 2")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.58,"pulseMs",150,"count",1,"rest",0)) squeezing the fat of me in its fist, jiggling the whole handful, and I am screaming into the stone and I have nothing to push it away with and nothing to kick it with and the scream is the only weapon left in my body. It rolls me onto my back.(playwhenread:"fall") My tits flop and settle, heavy and splayed, and it grips the left one in its massive scarred hand and hauls it up and lets it drop, *plap*,(playwhenread:"boobslap 1") and slaps it sideways, *fwap*, and watches the meat swing and clap against the other one and settle and slaps it again, and my head thrashes side to side. The King picks my right arm up off the stone and holds it above me so I can see it. My arm. My hand. The fingers that held Whisperwind, that cast fire, that gripped Elara's waist in the dark. It opens its jaw wide and bites into the forearm and the CRUNCH of bone between those teeth fills the chamber and I hear the wet thick sound of muscle tearing and the arm shortens by a third and it chews, slowly, watching me with those red pits while it eats what used to be mine. It finishes the arm and picks up the next. Each limb gets the same treatment. It eats them in front of me the way Snib eats his breakfast, methodical, unhurried, crunching through bone and swallowing muscle, and each crunch is a door slamming and each swallow is permanent and the things it is eating were Aldric's limbs once, strong and scarred and sure, and then the collar made them soft and smooth and female, and now they are food. It drops the last stripped bone on the stone beside my head and looks down at me where I lie. A wobbling, heaving, limbless trunk. Tits and ass and a face. My stumps are sealed smooth and pink at each shoulder, each hip. I wriggle and my whole body rocks and my tits jiggle with the motion and that is everything I can do in the world.(simple_option:"05 life","Next...")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/2.png")($play:"sex loop",0)It carries me through the tunnels in one fist. Its hand wraps my waist completely, thumb overlapping fingers, and I weigh nothing to it because there is so much less of me to weigh. My tits swing with each of its massive strides, flopping forward and slapping back against my ribs,(playwhenread:"boobslap 1") and my stumps twitch and grasp at nothing, the muscles firing signals down arms and legs that are in the creature's belly now, and every signal comes back unanswered. The throne room opens up around us. Carved from the living rock, the ceiling open somewhere up above, and at its center a seat of pale K'tarran stone wide enough for three men, worn smooth by millennia of use. Oil channels feed into the base of it and the amber glows faint in the carved grooves. The King barks once, a guttural sound that fills the chamber, and the lesser Skrall that followed us in retreat through the passageways, clicking, until the clicking fades and the room is silent except for the King's breathing and my own. It sits. It holds me up in one hand at the level of its burned face and looks at me. The red pits move over my body slow and thorough, down my bare chest, over the soft hang of my tits, down my belly to the bare slit of me and the stumps at my hips. Then it sighs. The sound comes out of it low and heavy and ancient, the exhale of something that has been alive too long, and it settles back against the carved stone the way a king settles, the way a child settles with a toy it has decided to keep, and takes me in both hands. The tongue comes out. Purple-black, glistening, longer than my forearm used to be, unfurling from between those lipless teeth in a slow wet rope. It extends and extends and the tip touches my left asscheek and drags. One lick. Slow and flat and wide and WET,(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.08),(a:500,0.18),(a:1200,0.30),(a:2000,0.36),(a:2700,0.22),(a:3400,0)))) dragging from the curve of my ass through the cleft and over my hole and forward through the full split of my cunt, the thick muscle of it parting everything it crosses, tasting me root to tip. The groan that tears out of me hits the ceiling and comes back. "*Nnnnnghh-hhhh-*" "*Klk. Klk. Klk.*" The clicks roll in its throat, pleased, tasting what it found, and the tongue withdraws trailing a strand of me that stretches and snaps. It tilts me downward in its grip so I can see. The cock has already begun. Peeling off the belly in slow jerks, dark and veined, the shaft thickening as it rises, ridged along its length in hard rings of gristle that catch the amber light, and it keeps growing, up, and up, and UP, the head swelling fat and blunt and slick with something clear that beads and runs. It is almost as thick as my leg used to be. It is longer than my arm used to be. And I have neither anymore to compare. "No. *No no no no-*" It holds me facing forward and the tongue comes out again and laps at my nipples, one then the other, curling around each one and pulling, the rough wet muscle dragging the stiff peaks out and letting them snap back, and I hear myself make a sound that Aldric never made and Elise was built to make. Then it pauses. Those red pits look at my face. It considers. It turns me around. Now I face outward, looking at the empty throne room, at the oil channels glowing amber in their grooves, and I can see my own body in the faint light: the stumps at my shoulders sealed smooth and pink, the stumps at my hips sealed smooth and pink, my tits hanging heavy, and below my belly the bare wet slit of me glistening. I try to close my legs. I try to cross my arms. I try to cover myself. The signals happen and happen and happen and nothing moves because there is nothing left to move. "*Hhhhkk-*" The sob catches in my throat. It lowers me. Slowly. One-handed around my waist, positioning me above the head of the thing, and I can feel the heat rising off it before it touches me, furnace-warm, the slick head radiating into the bare wet folds of me from an inch away. Then it lifts me back up. (hidden_gem:"I look down and see what it's looking at: a single long strand of cunt-syrup hanging from my pussy lips, clear and glistening, stretching down toward the head of the cock in a thread that gets thinner and thinner and does not break. My body has answered before my brain was asked. I am dripping onto the thing that is about to split me open.","A single shining string of slit-syrup stretches from my spread sex to the swollen shaft, slendering without snapping: my stupid flesh sweetening the spike that will shortly split it.") "*Klk.*" It studies the strand with ancient patience, watching it swing. "Please," I whisper. "Please don't." It lowers me again.(simple_option:"05 life breach","The head touches me.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")($play:"sex loop","kings scabbard resistant")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.26),(a:800,0.34),(a:1900,0.43),(a:3200,0.53),(a:4700,0.63),(a:6500,0.72),(a:8400,0.80),(a:10300,0.87),(a:11600,0.46))))(pic:"ch05/bad end/amp lower.jpg","right")The head touches me. Fat and blunt against my opening, pressing, and I feel myself spread around the crown of it, wider, wider, the collar-cursed flesh of me stretching like it was MADE to stretch, because it was, this body was built for this by whatever K'tarran horror designed the collar, built to open and open and accommodate, and the sound of my own cunt greeting the head of the King's cock is a wet, squelching *SCHLUCK* that fills the throne room. I try to push against its chest. My shoulder twitches. The stump flexes. Nothing touches anything. There is no hand to push with and no arm to push with. "*Aaa-aaahhhh-nnnnghhuuuh-*" Deeper. Slowly. Each ridge of gristle dragging past my entrance one at a time, each one wider than the last, and I feel every single one, the topography of it mapped inside me by nerves, each vein ticking past my opening, the heat of it spreading up through my belly like swallowed fire. My tits jiggle with each increment down. My stumps twitch in rhythm with my clenching. I am being fitted onto it like a sleeve onto a bottle and there is not one single thing in my body that can resist. *SCHLUK.* The fattest ridge passes inside me, and my whole body shudders, and a squirt sprays out around the shaft and spatters the stone between its massive thighs,(playwhenread:"squirt") and a moan comes out of me so loud and so broken and so completely involuntary that I hear it bounce off every wall in the room. "*UUUNNNGH-oh god-oh-hhhh-*" Halfway. I can feel it in my belly, pressing, the head nudging something deep, and the fullness is beyond anything, beyond the idol, beyond any cock in any life, a thick pulsing column of heat that my body grips and worships without a single instruction from me. The King grunts. A low, satisfied sound. It settles deeper into the throne, adjusting me on its lap with one casual hand, and reaches up and touches my hair. Lifts a strand of black silk between two massive clawed fingers and lets it fall. Does it again. Playing with me. Petting me. It goes still.(simple_option:"05 scabbard sleeping impaled","It falls asleep.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.05,"periodMs",3500,"forever",true))Then the breathing changes. The massive chest behind me rises and falls deeper, slower. The hand on my waist loosens. The red glow dims behind my head. It is falling asleep. "*Klk... klk............. klk...*" The clicks slow and space out and stop, and the breathing becomes a long rattling snore that vibrates through its chest into my spine and through the cock inside me, every snore sending a tremor through the whole rigid length that makes my cunt clench on reflex. I am alone. (hidden_gem:"Impaled on a sleeping monster's cock in a throne room older than language, limbless, naked, dripping, clenching every time it breathes, and there is nothing to do but sit here and feel it and think.","Limbless in a lightless, language-old lair, I lie lodged on a leviathan's length, leaking and locking around it with every lazy lungful, left only to linger and listen to myself.") I think of Elara. I think of her mouth. The taste of her lips in the morning before either of us had washed and neither of us cared. And this mouth just sucked a stone idol until it nutted down my throat and I am sitting on a creature's cock that is pressing against my womb. "*Hhhh... hh... hhhhkk...*" The squirt comes without warning. My whole body locks and releases and a spray of my own slick jets out around the shaft and splatters the stone(playwhenread:"squirt") and my stumps twitch and my tits bounce and my mouth opens on a moan I cannot stop. The creature doesn't wake. Another clench. Another squirt.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","rhythm","peakFrom",0.38,"peakTo",0.25,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",1200,"intervalTo",1200,"pulseMs",220,"forever",false,"beats",4,"resumeAfter",5400)) Smaller, pathetic, my cunt milking the sleeping cock inside me in slow rhythmic waves I cannot override, the collar-body doing what it was forged to do, servicing, gripping, working, while Aldric's mind sits behind my eyes and watches the empty throne room through tears. I wonder if the collar can regrow what was taken. I have seen it heal cuts in minutes. I have felt it reshape bone and muscle and every part of me. Surely limbs are not beyond it. Surely this is not permanent. Surely I will not spend the rest of my life as a wobbling, clenching, squirting sleeve on a monster's cock. Surely. SURELY... Another clench. Another small broken squirt. "*Hhhhh-Elara-*"(simple_option:"05 sleep","Sleep finally takes you on his cock...")

($play:"sex loop",0)My body decides it, the way a body decides to faint, one breath I am clenching and sobbing against the massive scarred chest behind me and the next the room is sliding sideways and going warm and dark. The snoring vibrates through the shaft inside me in long slow pulses and every pulse makes my cunt grip and every grip wrings a small wet *splt*(playwhenread:"squirt") out of me, and I drift off with my cheek against its huge, horrible chest and the taste of my own tears drying on my lips.(simple_option:"05 scabbard wake fuller","You wake up fuller.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/2.png")($play:"sex loop","kings scabbard resistant")(pic:"ch05/bad end/amp tummy bulge.jpg","left")I wake up fuller. Fuller than I was. The fullness has moved, settled deeper while I slept and my body went soft around it, and when I look down past the heavy swing of my tits, past the flat of my belly, I see the lump. Pressing outward from inside me, the shape of the cockhead visible through my skin just below my navel, a fist-sized mound that shifts when I breathe. My guts have rearranged themselves around the shaft to make room and the collar let them, opened me up from the inside, reorganized what needed reorganizing, because this body was made to accommodate and it has accommodated. My shoulder twitches. The stump flexes, the phantom hand reaches for the lump to touch it, to push it, to prove it isn't there. My fingers close. They are not there either. The creature stirs beneath me. It grunts, shifts its massive haunches, and stands up off the throne. With me still on it. Still hilted. Still full. It walks.(simple_option:"05 scabbard walking","Each stride jolts through you.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png")($play:"sex loop","kings scabbard resistant")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.28,"peakTo",0.38,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.14,"intervalFrom",1000,"intervalTo",1000,"attackMs",55,"sustainMs",65,"releaseMs",145,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.03,"intervalJitter",0.05,"depthJitter",0.03))(pic:"ch05/bad end/severed hoisted on rope hoisted on cock.jpg","right","Each stride jolts through me from the inside.")(hidden_gem:"Each stride jolts through me from the inside. The cock shifts in my belly with every step, the head dragging against something deep that makes my vision pulse, and my tits flop forward and slap back against my ribs with the rhythm of its gait, *plap, plap, plap*, and my stumps bob at my sides, and I am bobbing on it the way a scabbard bobs on a soldier's hip, because that is what I am now, I am the sheath and it is wearing me across its throne room the way you wear a piece of equipment.","Stride by stride, the shaft saws through my soft center while my breasts swing, slap, and settle, *plap, plap, plap*, and my sealed stumps sway: a slattern-scabbard slung from a soldier's side, a sheath it strolls in.")(playwhenread:"boobslap 1")"*Nnnngh... ngh... ngh...*" A moan punches out of me with every stride, small and broken. It reaches around me with one hand and grips both tits, squeezing them together against my chest, and bounces me. Each bounce works me an inch up the shaft and gravity *schlucks* me back down,(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 1") and on the third bounce a squirt sprays out around the base and spatters the stone floor between its feet.(playwhenread:"splat 3") "*Klk.*" Amused. It bounces me again. Another squirt, weaker. Another click. It ambles across the chamber toward an amber pool sunk into the floor, a carved stone reservoir fed by the ancient channels, the surface glowing warm and still, and it bends at the waist and takes my head in its free hand and pushes my face down into the oil. I cannot fight. There are no arms to brace against the rim, no hands to push up from the surface. My face goes under and the amber closes over my cheeks and fills my nostrils with peach-split warmth and I hold what breath I have and my stumps twitch against nothing. It lifts me back up. Amber sheeting off my face, dripping from my chin, my lashes gummed together. Then it lowers me by the waist, sliding me down its shaft an inch, two, until my mouth is level with the surface of the pool.(simple_option:"05 sleep amber","I lap.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)I lap. My tongue goes out and I lap at the warm oil the way a dog laps water, and the warmth blooms through my belly and up into the back of my skull and out along my stumps to the places where my fingers and toes used to be, and something loosens. The phantom sensations go quiet. The constant firing and grasping and reaching of muscles connected to nothing eases down to a hum. "*Klk. Klk.*"(simple_option:"05 scabbard throne drop","It straightens.")

($play:"sex loop","kings scabbard mindbroken")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png") It straightens and ambles back to the throne, each stride jolting through me, *plap plap plap*(playwhenread:"boobslap 2") goes my meat. It sits. The impact drives me down the last quarter-inch I had gained and the moan that comes out of me is guttural. It dips its massive hand into a channel of black oil running beside the throne and scoops a palmful and slurps it, the long tongue curling into the cup of its clawed hand, unhurried. Then it grips my waist and turns me. The rotation on the shaft sends a grinding, coring pulse through my entire body, every ridge dragging past every wall, and by the time I'm facing it the scream has already left me and I'm staring into the burned red pits from six inches away, gasping, my mouth open and wet. The tongue comes out. It licks my lips. Slow, flat, tasting the amber, and I hear myself whimper. Then it reaches around me with both hands. It grips my waist, and pulls me UP. Slow. Inch by inch. And I feel the inside of myself vacating around the shaft, each ridge dragging past my walls on the way out, one by one, the emptiness rushing in behind the retreating head like water filling a hole, and my body clenches and grabs at the shaft trying to keep it and it pulls me up anyway, up, up, until only the head remains inside me and I am stretched around just the fat blunt crown of it and my whole hollowed-out interior is screaming to be filled again. So the Skrall King, in his immeasurable kindness, lets go. *SCHLOP.*(playwhenread:"goblin womb fucking 2")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:180,0.90),(a:480,0.62),(a:900,0.40),(a:1450,0.24),(a:2100,0)))) Gravity takes me all the way down in one wet heavy drop.(playwhenread:"insert rough") "*AAAAGHHNNNNGHHH!*" (pic:"ch05/bad end/amp squirt.jpg","right")My whole body convulses around the shaft,(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",12,"peakFrom",0.96,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",300,"gapTo",720,"attackMs",44,"holdMs",105,"releaseMs",130,"gapIntensity",0.05,"peakCurve","swell","aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.14,"aftershockGap",1050)) every muscle I still own locking at once, and I squirt so hard it sprays the arms of the throne on both sides and spatters the stone(playwhenread:"squirt") and runs down the carved grooves and my stumps go rigid and my toes curl in feet I do not have and my back arches and my tits bounce and I cum, I cum on the Skrall King's cock, I cum so hard my vision goes white and my ears fill with roaring. When it clears I am sobbing. Sobbing at the puddle I made. At the sound that is still echoing off the chamber walls in my own beautiful voice. At the way my cunt is still gripping and pulsing around the shaft in little aftershocks, *shlk, shlk, shlk,* completely independent of anything my brain is doing. Something is wrong with me. Something was wrong before this creature touched me, of course. The collar built this wrongness into my flesh the day it remade me, threaded it into every nerve and every muscle and every slick eager fold of me, and this ancient thing just sat down and found the switch. "*Klk. Klk. Klk.*"(simple_option:"05 drops","It drops you again.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/pleasure/2.png")($play:"sex loop","kings scabbard mindbroken")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.70,"peakTo",0.84,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",1100,"intervalTo",800,"attackMs",90,"sustainMs",100,"releaseMs",165,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.03,"intervalJitter",0.05,"depthJitter",0.03))This isn't fucking. (hidden_gem:"It's using the inside of me to work itself off, pumping my whole body up and down the shaft the way you'd work a fist, and the sound my cunt makes on the first upstroke is a long, sucking, mortifying *SCHLLLLLUCK-POP* as the suction breaks at the head, and on the downstroke a thick drowning *GLORRRRRP* as I swallow the shaft back to the root and the air I displaced comes sputtering out around the base in a wet spray, *BPPPPHT,* and my tits slap up against my chin on the lift and slap down against my belly on the drop and my stumps jut rigid with every stroke and I am screaming.","It pumps my whole person like a palmful of pussy, pressing me up its prick until suction parts with a pathetic *SCHLLLLLUCK-POP*, then plunging me down in a profound *GLORRRRRP-BPPPPHT* while breasts, belly, and brutalized stumps provide the percussion.") I have no words. Up. *SCHLLLUCK-POP.* Down. *GLORRRRRP.* Up. *SCHLLLUCK.* Down. *GLORRRRP-BPPHT.* My squirt sprays out on the third stroke,(playwhenread:"squirt") a hard jet that hits the arm of the throne and runs. On the fifth it sprays the stone floor. On the eighth it spatters the King's own thighs and it clicks once, amused, the way you'd laugh at a squeaky toy, and adjusts its grip and pumps faster.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.76,"peakTo",0.90,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",650,"intervalTo",450,"attackMs",34,"sustainMs",48,"releaseMs",78,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.06,"depthJitter",0.03)) "*AAGH- AAGH- AAGH- AAGH-*" A moan punches out of me with every drop, timed to the slap of my ass against its thighs. My voice has become a rhythm instrument. The throne room rings with the wet percussion of my body being worked and the broken soprano of my screaming through it and the click click click of a creature that finds the sounds I make entertaining. It pumps me for what feels like an hour and might be five minutes. I cum *hard* seven times(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",16,"peakFrom",0.98,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",760,"attackMs",42,"holdMs",110,"releaseMs",135,"gapIntensity",0.06,"peakCurve","plateau","aftershocks",5,"aftershockIntensity",0.16,"aftershockGap",1100)) and each one wrecks me worse, my whole limbless trunk convulsing on the shaft, squirting hard enough to hit the far wall, my beautiful ruined voice hitting notes that would make the bardsong masters weep: squelch, slap, *SCHLUCK,* splutter, moan. Then I feel it building inside me.(simple_option:"05 drops pressure","The pressure builds.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")($play:"sex loop","kings scabbard mindbroken")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.26),(a:700,0.34),(a:1600,0.44),(a:2800,0.56),(a:4200,0.68),(a:5400,0.76)))) (pic:"ch05/bad end/severed mindbroken creampie vertical.png","The pressure builds.") A thick bulge presses forward through the shaft, and I feel the load moving UP through it the way you'd feel a fist being pushed through a glove, slow and inevitable. The head flares wide against my deepest wall and I hear myself say "*no no no no*" in a voice that sounds like it's coming from underwater. (sperm:"BLLLLLOOORRRRRRT.",6,"splurt 3 internal")The first blast hits my cervix like a punch and the HEAT spreads through my belly in a wave, and I feel my womb FILL, feel it stretch, feel my lower belly push outward against the skin.(simple_option:"05 scabbard creampie flooding","The second blast comes.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")($play:"sex loop","kings scabbard mindbroken")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.42),(a:180,0.90),(a:700,0.48),(a:2100,0.86),(a:2750,0.44),(a:4400,0.82),(a:5100,0.40),(a:7000,0.78),(a:7750,0.36),(a:9800,0.70),(a:10600,0.30),(a:13000,0.54),(a:14200,0.22),(a:16000,0))))The second blast comes before the first has settled and the overflow starts gushing out around the shaft in thick yellowish ropes that swing from where we're joined and(sperm:"SPLAT",2,"splat 1")onto the stone in heavy clots. (sperm:"BLORRRT. BLURRRT. SPLLLLLLT.",5,"splurt 4 internal")Each blast swells the urethra visibly against my wall before it fires. I can feel it loading, traveling, detonating. Five. Six. Seven. Each one hotter and thicker than the last, and by the fifth my belly is visibly distended, a small round mound below my navel, and the overflow is pouring freely now, chunky and yellowish, coating the shaft and my leg-stumps and the throne in a spreading slick. The creature grunts with each blast the way you'd grunt clearing your throat. This is relief for it. Maintenance. I am the receptacle it empties into when the pressure builds, and the emptying is as casual as pissing. "*Klk. Klk.*" It keeps swelling, and I am cumming through the filling, cumming so hard my stumps are rigid and shaking and a steady *pssssht-pssssht-pssssht*(playwhenread:"splat 5") of squirt keeps spraying out in rhythm with the blasts pumping in, and the two fluids mix on the stone in a spreading pool. It lifts me off.(simple_option:"05 scabbard lifted off","It lifts you off.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/2.png")*SCHLORRRRRRRRRP.*($play:"sex loop",0)(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.62),(a:300,0.52),(a:800,0.44),(a:1500,0.35),(a:2400,0.26),(a:3500,0.16),(a:5000,0))))The vacancy is the worst feeling. The gape. My stretched cunt yawning open around nothing, cold air hitting the inside of me, and then the pour starts, the cum coming out of me in a thick cataract, a heavy off-white rope of the stuff blurping out of my ruined opening and I cannot clench to stop it because the few muscles I still possess are wrecked, and the sound it makes hitting stone is continuous.(sperm:"GLUP-GLUP-GLUP-GLUP",3,"splurt 4")I am making a sound that is half sob half moan as I empty. It carries me to the stone depression in the floor, a shallow carved bowl the size of a bathtub, and holds me over it while the rest comes out. I watch it puddle below me. Thick, clotted, still warm. More of it than I would have thought could fit inside a typical body. When I stop dripping it lowers my face toward the surface. My face goes into the warm cum and there are once again, no hands to brace against the rim. My cheeks go under. My nose goes under. The thick reek fills my sinuses and I hold what breath I have. It holds me there. I thrash. A limbless, wobbling, pathetic thrash, my torso rocking, my tits squashing against the rim of the bowl, my stumps flailing at air, and cum-bubbles come up through the surface from my nose and I am going to drown in this creature's cum, and survival wins over everything, and my mouth opens. The taste floods my whole skull. Thick and rank, alive-feeling, chunky against my teeth, sitting in lumps on my tongue that I have to chew before I can get them down. My throat works and works and works.(playwhenread:"swallow big") Each swallow clears a little space. Each swallow brings the level down a fraction of an inch. The warmth of it hits my stomach and blooms up through my chest and out to the sealed stumps. It lifts me when it hears me swallowing. Satisfied.(simple_option:"05 drops worn","It straps you on.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/2.png")($play:"sex loop",0)(playwhenread:"swallow big")My face comes up glazed in the stuff, dripping from my chin, gumming my eyes shut, filling my ears, and I gasp and choke and the first breath I take tastes like the inside of the creature that owns me. "*Klk. Klk. Klk.*" It carries me to the wall where the ancient leather bindings hang. Old straps, cracked and dark, and it wraps them around my torso, cinching them over my shoulders and under my tits and around my waist, binding me against its belly with my back to its chest.(simple_option:"05 scabbard worn insertion","It straps you on.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")($play:"sex loop","kings scabbard resistant")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.22),(a:140,0.82),(a:500,0.56),(a:1000,0.34),(a:1600,0.18))))The cock slides back into me from below: *SCHLUCK*.(playwhenread:"insert rough") The leather holds me seated on it, strapped tight, my weight keeping me hilted. It walks.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.38,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.14,"intervalFrom",1000,"intervalTo",1000,"attackMs",55,"sustainMs",65,"releaseMs",145,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.03,"intervalJitter",0.05,"depthJitter",0.03)) Each stride jolts through me. My tits bounce with every step, *plap plap plap*,(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 1") and the cock shifts inside me and the cum still pooled in my belly sloshes and a little leaks out around the shaft with each footfall and leaves a trail of yellowish drops across the throne room floor. I am being worn through its domain. I am cock-furniture. I am the warm sheath strapped to the blade. It walks through the tunnels. Other Skrall see me. They crouch in the oil channels and look up as the King passes and they click, soft and reverent, and their cocks stiffen at the sight of me strapped to their lord, bouncing, dripping, glazed in ancient nut.(simple_option:"05 scabbard mindbroken","The warmth takes you under.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")($play:"sex loop","kings scabbard mindbroken")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.38,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.14,"intervalFrom",1000,"intervalTo",1000,"attackMs",55,"sustainMs",65,"releaseMs",145,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.03,"intervalJitter",0.05,"depthJitter",0.03))(pic:"ch05/bad end/severed tied with rope mindbroken panting.jpg","right","The warmth takes me completely under.")(hidden_gem:"The amber and the cum in my belly make my mind slow. The edges of my thoughts soften and go round. Elara's name takes longer to come than it should. I think of her face in the morning and the morning feels very far away, a bright square of light at the end of a passage I am being carried further and further from.","Amber and ancient milk make my mind mealy, memories melting at their margins. My marriage-name meanders in late; morning becomes a minute, marvelous window miles behind me while the monster marches me farther from it.")I think of Aldric. A tall man. A strong man. He feels like someone I read about once in a book a long time ago. Did I know him? Was he me? The collar hums at my throat. It will keep me alive. Where is Snib? Did they kill him? Do they posses the ability to wrest the collar away from it's master? I know, for some reason, that this thing around my neck will keep me healthy and warm and... conscious. Unfortunately. It will keep my skin soft and my cunt tight and my flesh ready. I have already had a preview of my diet for the rest of my life. I will live on this cock. The creature is three thousand years old. It shows no sign of stopping. The last thing I register before the warmth takes me completely under is the sound of my own cunt squelching around the shaft with each of its strides, *schlk, schlk, schlk,* and the small broken moan that leaks out of me in rhythm with it, and the click of the creature's satisfaction, and the dark. (set:$bad_end to (dm:"title","King's Scabbard"))(display:"unlock bad end")(gameover:"ch05/amp game over.jpg")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","foreboding")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/2.png")(badendsave:"housebroken")($play:"sex loop","sex no moan")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.42,"peakTo",0.54,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",1050,"intervalTo",850,"attackMs",90,"sustainMs",95,"releaseMs",165,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.05,"intervalJitter",0.08,"depthJitter",0.04))He pulls out slowly. My body refuses to let him go, clinging and sucking the whole way with a long, unwilling *SHLLLUCK*. His head clears my lips in a wet pop. *THWOP.* Straight back in to the root, and his belly slaps down warm on my tailbone, and my new, fatter asscheeks eat the impact and wobble twice before they settle. (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/what have i done.png","*What have I done?*") *What have I done?* The thought arrives whole and enormous. I hold it for one heartbeat before his cock **throbs** inside me, one hard pulse pressing my walls outward, scattering the thought like birds. *SHLUCK. THWOP.* Belly-slap, cheek-wobble, settle. I try to do this properly. Take inventory. Soldier's accounting. Facts: I am on my hands and knees in a goblin's hut. Facts: I said cheeks. I said *nothing inside*, I bargained it, I got a thousand gold for it, and then I fed twelve inches of him into myself with my *own body* because... He throbs again. "*Hhnk...*" Snib folds his little torso down along my spine to get at my hair, his chin landing between my shoulder blades. He grabs the **back of my collar** and hauls, using it like a rein, dragging me backward onto himself while his hips shove up. "Ye made the right choice, cock-scabbard. Hero-life's gonna be better for ye from now on!" *SHLUCK. THWOP.* The goblin is short enough that he's up on the balls of his splayed green feet behind me, driving *upward*, and every stroke shoves his cockhead over this horrible spot inside me, and the little sound that comes out of me is a *hiccup*, wet and small and repeating. "*Hh... hh... hhn...*" He rolls his hips, stirring, greedy, taking his time, wallowing in me like a pig in a warm puddle. His hand leaves my collar and lands on my right asscheek, and *SMACK*,(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.44,"pulseMs",120,"count",1,"rest",0,"resumeAfter",450)) and the flesh ripples away from his palm in a wave I feel travel up my back. "An' look at all this new arse ye grew today. Grew it *for* me, didn't ye. Snibby's own arse-throne." My cunt grips him for two seconds, hard, then lets go. I *feel* it happen like a door closing in another room. "*Ohhh*," He giggles wetly against my neck. "Felt that." *SHLUCK. THWOP. SHLUCK. THWOP.* He fucks me lazily. He doesn't need force. His cock burns **hotter** than I do, radiating into me and *weeping* constantly, slicking me from the inside while he works. "Yer mine forever now, ye know that." He discusses my ownership with the calm of a farmer planning next season's crop. "Before ye was just *rented.* But ye put it in yerself, cow." *THWOP.* Second clench. Longer. My toes curl inside the heels and cramp. "*Nnnf...*" "Hero-holster." *SMACK*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.46,"pulseMs",120,"count",1,"rest",0,"resumeAfter",450)) on the other cheek, the wobble running through both. "Sword goes in a scabbard, don't it. An' what's a scabbard *for*, eh? Holdin' meat." My tits are dragging in the dirt with every stroke, the nipples scraping grit, and each drag sends a jolt up through my belly that hits the same place his cock is already ruining. *SHLUCK. THWOP.* Wobble. Settle. Third clench. "*Hhhaaaa...*" "Heehee! Snibby ain't even started proper. Yer a leaky one, ain't ye. Leaky little cunt-purse." He throbs. The thick pulsation of his cock presses my walls out and lets them fall back and my whole body keeps time with it like a drum being tuned. *Elara.*(simple_option:"05 bad end resist choice","Keep trying to resist the pleasure.","Give in.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","foreboding")(if:$choice is "Give in.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/pleasure/1.png")Her name floats loose in my skull, three syllables with nothing attached. In the other life I would have grabbed it, held it, used it as a rope to climb back into myself. I watch it go. Something in my chest unknots, like a fist deciding to open, and what rushes into the space is pure physical warmth blooming outward from where he's buried in me, through my belly, my hips, down the backs of my thighs to my curling toes, and my whole body goes soft around his cock. The last of the clenching lets go. My walls settle around his shape like clay around a thumb. "Ohhhh," Snib breathes. "Ohhh, ye felt that too, didn't ye. Ye just went all *soft.*" I did. And then I move.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.38,"peakTo",0.55,"baseFrom",0.14,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",1200,"intervalTo",850,"attackMs",95,"sustainMs",100,"releaseMs",170,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.07,"depthJitter",0.04)) My hips push into him, slow, deliberate, and I feel every inch of the slide, the warts popping deeper one at a time, the fat vein dragging along my floor, the head pressing home against the very end of me, and the sound that comes out of my mouth is open-throated and low and nothing like the bitten-off hiccups from before. "*Aaaahhhh...*" Worse, the pace is mine. Slow, deep, rolling circles; my ass churns against his pelvis, my spine undulating like a dancer's. The wet sounds change with me in command: thicker, slower, a deliberate *SCHLORP... SCHLORP...* of suction and release. My body pulls at him on the backstroke and swallows him on the downstroke. Snib has stopped moving entirely. "Well, well, *well,*" he says, and I can hear the grin stretching his rotten face. "Snibby ain't even *movin'.* Look at her go. The Hero of Humieville, ridin' a gobbo like a festival pony." My hands are flat in the dirt. I'm using my arms to push myself back onto him, harder, deeper, and my tits swing in MY rhythm now, *plap... plap...*, heavy and pendulous, the nipples grazing lines through the dirt on every forward roll. And it feels... It feels like lying down after a forced march. For days I have fought the collar, the curse, Snib, this body. Fighting was all I had left. I lay it down. The relief borders on holy. (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/ahegao.png","The relief borders on holy.") Pleasure sharpens. Resistance had burned sensation like lamp oil; now the flame is high, with nothing between me and twelve inches of goblin cock sliding through my middle. "Ye didn't even ask about the gold," Snib observes. I didn't. "The g- gold." "Two days ago ye were hagglin' over every last coin, an' now..." he reaches under me and grabs one swinging tit, weighs it, drops it, catches the wobble, "...now yer payin' ME in arse!" *SCHLORP. SCHLORP.* I look back over my shoulder. This time I don't look away. I watch my own ass swallow him, over and over, the pale flesh rippling around his green hips, the obscene glistening ring where we join, my swollen lips kissing his root on every downstroke, and I keep watching, and the watching feeds it, feeds the heat, feeds the slow rolling engine of my hips, and somewhere in the back of my skull Aldric is very quiet. "Yer little cunt's *kissin'* me," Snib says, wonder in his nasty voice. "Every time ye come down it gives Snibby a little *smooch.* Ye trained it, or did it learn that on its own?" "It learned," I say. "*Heehee.* Say thank ye." "Thank you." "Thank you for WHAT, cow-tits?" "Thank you for fucking me." "Thank ye for fuckin' ye *proper,*" he corrects, smug as a cat in cream. "Thank you for fucking me proper." "*HURR HURR HURR!*" He slaps my right cheek(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.42,"pulseMs",120,"count",1,"rest",0,"resumeAfter",450)) and the flesh rolls away and comes back and I roll with it, use it, let the wobble carry me into the next downstroke. "An' what about the hero work? The dungeons an' the beasties an' all that crawlin' about in holes?" "Done with it," I say. "Jus' like that?" "Just like that." "An' the sword?" "Let the sand have it." He's quiet for a moment. Then he reaches under me again, takes a full handful of hanging tit, and hefts it. His voice turns thoughtful, a rare miracle from Snib. "Big fat jugs like these'll feed *three, at least.*"(simple_option:"05 bad end fucked stupid surrender","He increases his speed.")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")(pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/trytoresist.jpg") Her name comes up with nothing attached. Three syllables float loose in a skull emptied of everything except the shape of a big, greasy, green gobbo-cock. I try to get off him. My palms find dirt and my knees push and I get maybe four inches of him out of me before the drag of it, the slow wet peel of every ridge coming back through, does something behind my navel that stops my arms dead. My hips hover. Then they slide back down. *SPLUCK.* "*Hhhnf...*" "Heehee." I do it again. I *know* what happens and I try it anyway, four inches out, hover, and back down, *SPLUCK*, and this time a little wet pulse goes through me on the landing and something squirts out around him and hits the dirt. Snib settles his belly onto my tailbone like a man sitting down to a meal. "How much." My voice comes out in pieces. I gather it. Try again. I need to at least get something out of this capitulation. "How much does this take off. The debt." He doesn't answer straight away. Snib performs a slow rotation of his hips(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.36,"peakTo",0.50,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",1150,"intervalTo",900,"attackMs",95,"sustainMs",105,"releaseMs",175,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.06,"depthJitter",0.04)) that turns his cock inside me like a spoon in porridge, pressing my walls outward in a circle, and every direction of the rotation finds a different place. "*Hhhaaa...*" "Ye were sayin'?" *Stir.* "The debt." I get my teeth into it. "I let you... inside. That's worth..." My hips jerk on their own and a hot little spurt leaves me around his shaft, *squip*, audible, running down my inner thigh. "...that's worth two th- thousand?" Snib's laugh starts in his gut and travels down through his hips and into his cock and I feel him find me funny *from the inside*, three quick throbs of pure amusement pressing my walls out and letting them fall. "Nothin'." "...What?" "Not a coin." He leans his little torso down along my spine to get at my collar, gets his fist through the back of it, and *pulls*, hauling me onto himself while his hips shove up. "Ye don't get paid fer somethin' ye already *handed over*, cow. Snibby didn't buy nothin'. Snibby got *given.*" "That wasn't..." *Squip.* My thighs shake. "That wasn't the arrangement, the arrangement was cheeks..." "An' then ye *changed it.*" *Stir.* His cockhead drags across something and my elbows give out: the left one first, then the right, one at a time, and my cheek finds the dirt. "Now then." He spanks my right cheek and the whole shelf of it rolls away from his palm and comes back. *SMACK.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.44,"pulseMs",120,"count",1,"rest",0,"resumeAfter",450)) "Bit o' good news fer ye. Snibby's been thinkin', an' I reckon yer done with the hero work." "...I'm what." "Crawlin' round holes. Killin' beasties. All that." *SMACK*,(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.46,"pulseMs",120,"count",1,"rest",0,"resumeAfter",450)) the other cheek. "Waste, innit. Look at ye. Ye got all *this* now." Both hands find the new heft of me and knead it like dough. "Why'd I walk a good brood-sow into a cave an' risk her when she does *this* at home?" My mouth opens to argue and my body squirts again instead, a proper one this time, a hot wet pulse that soaks his sack and patters into the dirt, and the argument dies in my throat and comes out as a whimper. "An' them." He reaches under me and takes a full handful of one hanging tit, hefts it, drops it, catches the swing. "*Ohh*, them's the best part. Them's gonna come in real handy. Pups need feedin', don't they. Big fat jugs like these'll feed *four.*" The word lands and I hear myself say, "Four," out loud, like a woman confirming an order. "Each. Maybe five." He giggles, delighted, stirring. "Gobbo litters run big. Ye'll pop 'em out an' feed 'em an' pop out more. Sleep in the straw where ye are. Won't need the sword, won't need them silly boots." "You'll get your g- gold." I say it fast, all in one breath, before my body can take the sentence away from me. "You gave your word, you..." "Aye." Comfortable. Unbothered. "An' what's it buyin', exactly?" My mouth is open. Nothing comes. He sets his splayed green feet in the dirt on either side of my knees. Gets both fists round the collar. "Right. Enough chattin'." "Wait, I haven't fin..."(simple_option:"05 bad end fucked stupid resist","'Wait, I haven't fin-'")]

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","foreboding")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/2.png")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.62,"peakTo",0.78,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",450,"intervalTo",320,"attackMs",30,"sustainMs",42,"releaseMs",68,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.14,"depthJitter",0.06))"I'm yoooOOOOUUURS..." SPLAP. The word CLIMBS, torn upward into a wail as the first piston stroke drives every atom of air out of my lungs and replaces it with COCK. "*AAAAAAHHHN...*" SPLAP-SCHLORP. (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/losingcontrol.png","The word CLIMBS, torn upward into a wail as the first piston stroke drives every atom of air out of my lungs and replaces it with COCK.") That second sound is me: hips slamming back, ass swallowing his pelvis with a wet, sucking impact. The rhythm arrives INSTANTLY. No counting. No learning curve. Twenty years of reading blow-tempo on shield-walls, and my body KNOWS when the next stroke lands and how to catch it. *SPLAP-SCHLORP-SPLAP-SCHLORP-SPLAP-SCHLORP...* "More," I moan into the dirt. "MORE..." *SPLAP-SCHLORP.* "AAAAHHN..." I lean INTO the orgasm,(playwhenread:"elise doggy orgasm")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",16,"peakFrom",0.98,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",740,"attackMs",42,"holdMs",110,"releaseMs",135,"gapIntensity",0.06,"peakCurve","plateau","aftershocks",5,"aftershockIntensity",0.16,"aftershockGap",1100,"resumeAfter",21600)) arch my back to meet it like an old friend, and it hits me like warm surf and I ride it, moaning, my cunt clamping and releasing in long grateful pulse... "That's... *AAAHHN* ...two..." I count, the last Aldric habit left. Three starts before two finishes. Four stops being a number and becomes a continuous STATE, a rolling plateau of clench and gush. "...nnngh... a LOT..." *pssh-pssh-PSSSH.* The squirt is constant now, a background hiss under everything, my cunt hosing little jets around his pounding shaft on every other stroke, and I hear myself ANNOUNCING them in the dumb stretched voice, giggling: "Makin' another puddle... *hee-aaahn* ...makin' ANOTHER one..." He goes for my hair and fumbles it. His stubby fingers grasp at the black silk curtain and lose it, grasp again, and I...(simple_option:"05 bad end fucked stupid surrender reins","Hand him the reins.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","foreboding")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/pleasure/3.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.68,"peakTo",0.82,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",400,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",64,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.14,"depthJitter",0.06))I reach back. I gather my own hair. Both hands, pulling the whole wet mass of it together into a rope, and I press it into his warty fist and wrap his fingers around it with mine and hold them there for one heartbeat. *I just handed him the reins.* "Pull," I say. He pulls. My head comes off the dirt, my throat bares, my spine bows into the arch that puts his cock at the perfect angle, and the first stroke with the new leverage makes my eyes cross and my tongue fall out... "*AAAAAAAAHHHHH...*" "HURR HURR HURR!" (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/hairpull.jpg","*I just handed him the reins.*") *SPLAP-SCHLORP-SPLAP-SCHLORP...* His other hand comes near my face and I turn my head and take two of his knobbled fingers into my mouth and SUCK. He didn't ask. He didn't fishhook me. I just... wanted something in my mouth, and my lips seal around the warty knuckles and my tongue wraps the cracked nails and I nurse on them, *schlk-schlk-glk*, tasting dirt and cock-grease and my own squirt from where he wiped it earlier... His cock KICKS inside me. Hard. I feel it in my stomach. I look back over my shoulder. And I don't look away. I watch his green crotch vanish into my pale wobbling ass on every stroke, watch my own cheeks ripple and clap and ripple and clap, watch his stupid blissful face with the tongue lolling and the yellow eyes rolled half back, and I keep watching, and the moaning feeds the watching, and I'm drooling down my chin in a steady rope and I don't care... "Tell Snibby what ye are!" he squeals, yanking my hair. "I'm your COW... *AAAHHN* ...your fat-uddered breeding COW!" "Tell Snibby what ye gave up!" "EVERYTHING! The sword, the name, the... *AAAAHH* ...the ballads, the WALL, I don't want 'em, I don't want ANY of it, I just want your fat goblin COCK..." "An' yer WIFE..." "YOURS! I'm YOURS! Snibby's wife, Snibby's cow, Snibby's... *hee-hee-aaahn* ..." A bright, girlish giggle bubbles through the moaning like spring water through mud. I've never made that sound in this body. It tangles with the next stroke and becomes a giggle-moan, *hee-hee-aaahn-hee-aaahn*, my ruin suddenly funny and hot at once. "KING COCK!" Snib declares, pounding. "Snibby's cock's the KING now! King of the humie heroes! BOW TO THE KING!" And I giggle-moan louder, *hee-aaahn-hee-aaahn*, because it's STUPID, it's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and I'm cumming to it, I'm cumming to a goblin declaring his cock royalty while I push back to meet every stroke... *PSSSSHHHHH...*(playwhenread:"squirt") Another full squirt, hosing his sack, and he yelps and slaps my ass(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.52,"pulseMs",120,"count",1,"rest",0,"resumeAfter",400)) and the slap sets off ANOTHER one and I'm just a fountain now, a moaning giggling squirting fountain of former heroism... And then, in the middle of all of it, my voice comes out clear. "This is the best I've ever felt." The moaning resumes. *Hee-aaahn.* The clarity drowns. *SPLAP-SCHLORP.* Snib didn't even hear it over his own squealing. But I heard it. I killed a dragon once. Stood over its corpse with my sword in its heart while the blood steamed in the snow, and they sang my name in three taverns that night, and men bought me drinks until dawn, and I remember thinking *this is what my life is FOR*... And I would trade every verse of every song for one more hour of this.(simple_option:"05 bad end fucked stupid next","Keep going.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","foreboding")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.68,"peakTo",0.80,"baseFrom",0.07,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",360,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",26,"sustainMs",36,"releaseMs",58,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.18,"depthJitter",0.08))"Wait, I haven't fin..." SPLAP. The stroke punches the word dead in my teeth. "*AANGH...*" My left elbow folds, like a siege-prop hit with a ram, and my cheek hits the dirt and my tits crush flat and my ass stays UP because his weight is on my hips and his fists are in the collar and the angle, gods, the angle, everything that was deep goes DEEPER, and the warted crown of his cock rakes something on the front wall that lights up my whole pelvis like a bonfire... SPLAP. "*AANGH...*" Suddenly, his stubby hips are a blur against my upturned ass, and the sound fills the hut and bounces off the mud-brick: *SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP...* His pot-belly hits my lower back on every single stroke, *SPLAT*, greasy, the sweat between us churned to something slicker than tallow by the speed of his body on mine, and his whole weight rides my spine, forty pounds of goblin bouncing on me the way a sack of wet grain bounces on a mule, and his stubby legs kick free on every downstroke, toes curling, FEET IN THE AIR, not touching anything, not NEEDING to touch anything because what he's touching is me. He is riding the Hero of Eboncrest like a child rides a fence-rail, and the fence does not get a say in it. I try to get my knees und... *SPLAP.* ...under me, try to get a hand fl... *SPLAP.* ...flat on the... *SPLAP. SPLAP. SPLAP.* I can't. His rhythm has no gap. For twenty years I learned when the shield-wall hammers, when the axe falls, when to breathe between blows so my arms don't die. Here there IS no space. He's too fast and too stupid for rhythm. I try to count. Counting is the last weapon I own. If I can count the strokes I can take them the way you take hammer-blows on a shield, set your feet and breathe on the number: One. Two. Three. Four. One two three fourfive... Onetwo...nnGH...onetwo... One...AANGH... AANGH... AANGH AANGH AANGH... What replaces it is my noise, punched out of my chest with every stroke like a bellows being stomped, and I can hear how it sounds, how rhythmic and WET and FEMALE it sounds, a grunt on every beat that my vocal cords catch on the way past and shape into something between a bark and a moan: "*Aagh... aagh... aagh... aagh...*" *I killed a dragon. I killed a dragon and this is the sound coming out of me now.*(simple_option:"05 bad end fucked stupid resist count","Hold the count.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","foreboding")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.70,"peakTo",0.82,"baseFrom",0.07,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",350,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",26,"sustainMs",36,"releaseMs",58,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.18,"depthJitter",0.08))His hand grips my hair, wraps it twice round his knuckles the way a rider wraps a rein, and HAULS. My head comes off the dirt. My throat bares. My spine bows. He needs my hair to keep his seat; he's too short to hold the collar and thrust at once. My hair becomes his stirrup, his RIDING-TACK. Every stroke yanks my skull back to the beat of his hips. *SPLAP*...yank. *SPLAP*...yank. *SPLAP*...yank. *Sptt.* Small. Wet. Between my legs, hitting the dirt. *Sptt-sptt.* Two pathetic little spurts that squirt out around his shaft and patter the mud between my knees like the first fat drops of rain on a cookfire, and I hear them happen from very far away, and I did not cum again, I did NOT... Snib's eyes are half-shut and his tongue is lolling out the side of his rotten mouth and he's panting *hurr... hurr... hurr...* with every stroke. He's just enjoying himself. He's just enjoying how his cock feels inside ME. *SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP...* One stubby green foot skids off my sweat-slicked flank and his whole body lurches sideways on my back and for one heartbeat he's toppling off me like a drunk off a wall, and his cock starts to slide out and the wart-crown catches on my rim and DRAGS... He panics. Both fists CLENCH in my hair, a survival-grip, hauling himself back onto my spine by two handfuls of silk, and the yank is hard enough to bare my teeth and arch my spine into a bow, and his cock RAMS back in to the root and the wart-crown PUNCHES the spot and... I cum again.(playwhenread:"elise doggy orgasm")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",12,"peakFrom",0.96,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",700,"attackMs",42,"holdMs",105,"releaseMs",130,"gapIntensity",0.05,"peakCurve","swell","aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.14,"aftershockGap",1050,"resumeAfter",15300)) "*HAAAAAAHH...*"(playwhenread:"squirt") (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/balls deep squirt.png","*I am NOT cumming on a gobbo again, I'm nooooooot...*") *I am NOT cumming on a gobbo again, I'm nooooooot...* My thighs slam shut. My toes curl. Between my clenching walls, every detail sharpens: the wart-crown lodged against the spot, each nodule pressing swollen flesh like knuckles into dough, the root-vein ticking against my rim, the broad hot slit kissing my deepest wall and SPITTING. His heartbeat travels through his cock, mine through my walls. The two lock together. I cannot break the sync. He jams two knobbled fingers into the corner of my mouth. "*GLUHK.*" The sound comes from behind my tongue. His fingers taste like dirt, cock-grease, his own sweat, and my spit wraps around them and I can't close my jaw, can't swallow, and the drool that's been pooling behind my teeth pours out in a silver rope that hangs from my chin and swings with the fuck-rhythm... "*Heehee!*" He pulls harder. To my MOUTH, not to me. "Make the noise! Do the noise again!" "'m... *glhk*... 'm nod gon... *GLUHK*-" *SPLURK-SPLURK-SPLURK* *PSSSSHHHHHH...*(playwhenread:"squirt") Around his shaft, hosing his sack, spraying the mud between my knees in a fan I can HEAR and SMELL: hot, sharp, and absolutely shaming. "*HURRRR!*" Snib howls on my back. "*Sounds like a mare havin' a PISS! PSSSHHH! Hero-cow SQUIRTIN' on Snibby's cock again!*" For two heartbeats I am underwater in a warm dark place where nothing exists except the pulse and the pulse and the pulse, and I am sinking, and the water is warm.(simple_option:"05 bad end fucked stupid next","But you surface again.")

(pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/surface.jpg","'...ohgod... ohgod... s'good... s'so... *don'stop* don'stop DON'STOP...'") ($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","foreboding")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/pleasure/3.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.70,"peakTo",0.82,"baseFrom",0.07,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",380,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",27,"sustainMs",38,"releaseMs",62,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.09,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.07))"...ohgod... ohgod... s'good... s'so... *don'stop* don'stop DON'STOP..." Vowels stretch like gut-string tuned past breaking. Consonants dissolve. The breathy, desperate voice knows no sword, no Elara, no dawn wall bristling with spears. It exists to make wet sounds around a cock. Aldric hears it from behind his own teeth, watching his house burn through glass. "...*righthere* righthere RIGHT THERE, AAHN, can feel your, your bumpy bits, yer wart-things, nnGH, they CATCH when ye pull out an' I can, I can FEEL each one go *pop* past my, AAHGOD..." "Me WARTS!" Snib cackles, bouncing on my back, slapping my right asscheek the way you'd pat a horse after a good run. Companionable. "Ye like me COCK-WARTS!" *SPLURK-SPLURK-SPLURK...* (hidden_gem:"I drag myself forward through the dirt on my forearms with a goblin mounted on my back, and behind us we leave a TRAIL: a glistening drag-mark through the packed earth of his hut, my squirt churned to a slick that catches the firelight, and the trail is the length of my surrender measured in inches.","I slither through the soil with Snib saddling my spine, scoring a shining snail-trail of squirt through his shack, each slick inch a sordid subtraction from my surrendering soul.")"GIDDYUP!" he howls. "GIDDYUP, COW-TITS! Where ye GOIN'? Ye can crawl to the fuckin' MOUNTAINS an' Snibby'll still be up here! Still be POUNDIN YE SMOOTHIE'!" *SPLURK-SPLURK-SPLURK...* "Good arse. Fat arse. Nice jiggly WOBBLE-arse." He pats the right cheek, then the left, testing the ripple like a man checking the firmness of bread dough. "Ye like that, arse? Course ye do. YER the smart one. The head-bit's STUPID, but YOU know what's good fer ye, don't ye." *SPLAK.* I look back over my shoulder. Three foot eight of pot-bellied, bandy-legged, boil-crusted goblin crouched on my back with his stubby green legs splayed on either side of my ribs and his feet dangling in the air and his belly hanging over his own crotch in a greasy fold that presses and peels off my lower back with every thrust, *splat... splat... splat.* And below him: my body. The pale sweep of my back, black hair flung across it in wet ropes like ink spilled on marble. The shelf of my shoulderblades, still beautiful, still shaped like something a sculptor would weep over. The flare of my waist narrowing from the impossible width of my hips. The white curve of my arse, its fat new heft swallowing his crotch on every down-stroke until his green pelvis disappears between my cheeks. Where his meat enters me, a churning, glistening ring of wet catches the firelight and throws it back. The most beautiful woman in the province and the ugliest creature. I look for one second. I put my face back in the dirt.(simple_option:"05 bad end fucked stupid crest","The pleasure crests again.")

(pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/brainfuck.jpg","Another orgasm hits like a wall falling.")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","foreboding")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(playwhenread:"elise squirt")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",14,"peakFrom",0.98,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",720,"attackMs",42,"holdMs",108,"releaseMs",132,"gapIntensity",0.05,"peakCurve","plateau","aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.15,"aftershockGap",1080))Another orgasm hits like a wall falling. "*NnnnNNNNAAAAHHH...*" *PSSSSSHHHH...* "*Ohhh!*" Snib yelps, startled by the force of it hitting his balls. "*She's doin' it AGAIN! HURR HURR HURR!*" *SPLURK-SPLURK-SPLURK-SPLURK...* And on the far side of it, panting, face in the mud I've made with my own squirt, I hear myself again: the dumb voice, the WRONG voice: "I'm cumming 'm cumming 'm *CUMMING* oh... oh *FUCK*..." And then, gasping, shaking, drool stringing from my stretched mouth to the dirt, my voice again: "I used to..." The voice cracks. "I used to be *Aldric*..." *SPLURK.* "...the best swordsman in... *AANGH*... the northern... I killed HUNDREDS of yer kind... *hundreds*... of-" "Who?" Snib pants. "*ME!*" I scream it into the mud. *SPLURK.* Then he resumes. Full speed.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.72,"peakTo",0.84,"baseFrom",0.07,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",380,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",38,"releaseMs",62,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.09,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.07)) And I squirt again, and I hear myself in the slurred stretched voice going: "Please." *SPLURK.* "Please." "Huh?" he says. Then he goes back to fucking. *SPLURK-SPLURK-SPLURK...* The *please* sits in the hut unanswered. I don't know what I was asking for. Stop or never stop. Harder or mercy. Who the thrack knows. His rate drops.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.55,"peakTo",0.65,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",950,"intervalTo",850,"attackMs",90,"sustainMs",105,"releaseMs",170,"rampBeats",6,"intensityJitter",0.03,"intervalJitter",0.05,"depthJitter",0.03)) The blur resolves into single strokes I can feel from beginning to end. The wart-crown clears my rim on the outstroke, *click... click... click*, each nodule popping past the tight band like a bead on an abacus. Then comes the long, thick in-stroke: the shaft dragging through me like a hot brand, every ridge and vein printing its shape into my walls. At the bottom, the broad slit finds my cervix, KISSES it, and SPITS a hot mouthful of precum through the gap before hauling back. Beneath my mound, his balls pull up tight. *Blurrrk.* A wet internal sound. Deep. The sound of something thick moving through a pipe. A drain clearing in reverse. *Gluk-gluk.* And I know what that sound is. I listened to the words about goblins breeding women as a man who killed goblins before breakfast and thought *how clinical, how sad for the women involved, thank the gods I'll never know.* The words are about me now. The numbers are IN me now. The numbers are about to be in me literally. Snib settles his chin between my shoulder blades. His belly flattens warm against my lower back. His cock is buried to the root and holding, the broad slit pressed flush against my cervix and weeping a steady hot trickle through the opening, drip by drip, each one a small warm invasion that pools somewhere deep, and his balls sit against my mound like two clenched fists and I can feel what's in them GATHERING, a weight shifting behind the skin, dense, alive, purposeful... "Close," he says. "I'm gonna ngh- nut in ye." The fire pops. A log shifts. Outside, the wind moves the sand. "Tell ye what." He shifts his weight on my back. "If ye don't want it: buck me off. Won't gh- lock ye!" His stubby green legs dangle on either side of my ribs. His feet don't touch the ground. He weighs forty pounds. I have a hundred pounds on him, a foot of height, twenty years of combat training that built a body capable of pinning a man twice his size with one arm. There is no order from the collar. No magic holding me down. No chain, no spell, no curse but the one I am choosing. "Go on." He wiggles one stubby arm in the air, demonstrating how small it is. "Snibby's LITTLE. One push, hero. One push an' Snibby falls right off in the dirt an' that's that." He giggles. "*Hurr.* Won't even be cross about it. Just stand up. Easy." The fire pops. "Buck me off, cow-tits." I don't move. "Any time ye like."(simple_option:"05 try","Try.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","foreboding")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/pleasure/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.28,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1800,"forever",true))My hips push back. His green pelvis SINKS into the fat of my ass, hipbones swallowed by white wobble-flesh, his cock seating that last fraction deeper. Something far up inside me has been clenched shut since my first night in this body. It uncurls. Opens. Relief floods me like a drug: jaw slack, shoulders dropping, my sopping cunt SOFTENING around him, the white-knuckle grip of my pussy lips easing into something warm and WELCOMING. The sound that escapes me ERASES my heroic identity. "*Uuuuunnnnhhhh...*" Snib drops flat along my spine. His belly spreads greasy-warm across my lower back, chin grinding between my shoulderblades, stubby legs rigid beside my ribs. His pelvis GRINDS into my upturned ass. His whole green crotch disappears into the pillowy meat of my cheeks, wiry pubes scratching my crack. His balls crush flat against my mound, two hot stones mashed tight enough for me to feel the STUFF inside them shifting, heavy and dense, dropping toward the pipe. (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/insert xray.jpg","*Bllllllrk.*") *Bllllllrk.* Everything goes quiet except the fire and the gurgle of his horrible plumbing. His shaft swells. I feel the bulge start at the root, where my swollen pussy lips grip his base in a sloppy wet ring, stretched so wide around his girth that I can feel my own pulse in the stretch, and it travels UPWARD, fattening him inside me inch by inch, my cunt spreading wider around the swell, my sopping lips PUFFING outward around the root, and the swell crawls up and up and the head BLOATS somewhere so deep I feel it in my stomach... (sperm:"GLORRRRRP.",5,"splurt 3 internal")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.36),(a:180,0.84),(a:650,0.46),(a:1800,0.78),(a:2400,0.40),(a:3900,0.68),(a:4600,0.34),(a:6200,0.48),(a:7200,0))))The first POUR of Snib's sperm into me is thick, heavy, and scalding hot. Hotter than me. Hotter than blood. A fat, dense gout of nut-custard erupts from his cockhole into my deepest place. And my life splits in half. (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/firstspurt.jpg","A fat, dense gout of nut-custard erupts from his cockhole into my deepest place.") (hidden_gem:"Everything before this moment on one side. Everything after on the other. Between them, a quarter-pint of goblin cum spurts hot and heavy into the floor of my breeding-pouch. The *warmth* SINKS through my belly like the first swallow of something so rich my eyes roll back and my whole body goes stupid with gratitude. HEAT blooms through my hips, my thighs, the small of my back. It feels GOOD: toe-curling, mouth-opening, shameful enough to drag a groan from behind my navel...","My life lies lopped into two lengths, and the line between is a ladleful of loathsome little-goblin load launched into my lowest chamber, liquid heat loosening every limb until I lie limp, lips parted, luxuriating in what should leave me livid...")"*OHHHHhhhhgodddddsss...*" My cunt CLENCHES hard. My pussy lips spasming at the root of his cock in rapid wet grips: *schlk-schlk-schlk*, each spasm hauling more of him into me, and my sopping fuck-pocket GUZZLES at his shaft like a drunk at a bottle, greedy, GULPING, the obscene wet sounds of my own cunt drinking a goblin's load filling the hut louder than the fire... *GLUUUUK.* My whole body goes soft. Jaw unclenching. Fists uncurling against the dirt. Everything I've held since the collar LETS GO at once. The release and the cum share one warmth, one nerve, and my body reads the weight of his nut-sludge as RELIEF... armor dropped after a war that outlived its meaning. "*HRRRRRRK*, *pup*, *HNNNK*..." Snib's body JACKKNIFES on my back, his green pelvis PUNCHING into my ass, both fat cheeks CLAPPING around his crotch on the impact, pale assmeat JOUNCING against this horrid little green thing dominating it...(simple_option:"05 second rope","And you feel the second splurt...")($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")

($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","foreboding")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/pleasure/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.46),(a:180,0.88),(a:700,0.48),(a:2100,0.84),(a:2750,0.44),(a:4400,0.80),(a:5100,0.40),(a:7000,0.74),(a:7800,0.35),(a:9800,0.66),(a:10600,0.30),(a:12800,0.48),(a:14000,0))))(sperm:"GLOOOOOP.",5,"splurt 4 internal")The second surge of Snib's cum fires, thicker, CLOTTIER, a dense glob of ball-porridge that I feel travel the length of his shaft and EXIT into me, and my cunt once again GULPS it down, *GLUUUK*, my pussy walls clenching in a long hungry swallow, pulling it deeper. It's so THICK I can feel the TEXTURE against my insides, lumpy and warm as porridge. The obscene thickness becomes CREAM, RICHNESS, the most satisfying meal I've ever been fed. I GROAN, a deep chesty animal *UUUNNNHH*, the sound of a creature being FED after weeks of starving. Its rancid-sweet, fungal stink reaches me from the INSIDE, and my mouth waters until drool spills down my chin. (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/doggycreampie.png","video","'oh gods, oh GODs, s'so THICK, can feel it, can feel it all going UP in me, *AAAHHHNN*! Filling my- filling my little babybox! *HAAAAAUUGHH*... so MUCH, so full, full full *full*, oh, oh FUCK!!!'") "...*EEEEHEEHEEHEE*, *HRRRRK*, SO, SO MANY, GONNA MAKE, *HNNNNK*, SO MANY..." Snib's stubby legs DRUM my flanks, his pot-belly SLOPS against my spine, his pelvis MASHES into my fat ass in grinding spasms, *CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-CLAP*, his whole crotch BURIED in the cushion of me, his hipbones sinking into pale flesh, and each clench fires another thick surge through his cockpipe and my greedy, spasming, guzzling hero-cunt swallows each one, *GLUUK-GLUUK-GLUUK*, my sopping pussy lips pulsing at his root like a mouth NURSING, and I can feel his balls DEFLATING against my mound, feel them shrinking, the skin going slack and wrinkled as the weight leaves HIS body and enters MINE... "oh gods, oh GODs, s'so THICK, can feel it, can feel it all going UP in me, *AAAHHHNN*! Filling my- filling my little babybox! *HAAAAAUUGHH*... so MUCH, so full, full full *full*, oh, oh FUCK!!!" "*HHHRRRRRRRK*", his whole diaphragm PUNCHES it through. My pussy lips STRAINS at the root of his huge goblin-dick, spasming, gripping, CHEWING, the wet sloppy *SCHLRRRK-GLUUUK-SCHLRRRK* of my fuck-pocket guzzling a goblin's thickest nut, and my belly goes tight from the inside, and the *fullness* hits me the way being drunk hits you, all at once, and it feels like... *AAAHHHNN*... feels... feels BETTER than any sword ever felt in my grip, better than Elara's kisses tasted on my lips, better than anything I earned in the life I built, and that thought makes me... CUM.(playwhenread:"elise squirt")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",14,"peakFrom",0.98,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",740,"attackMs",42,"holdMs",110,"releaseMs",135,"gapIntensity",0.05,"peakCurve","swell","aftershocks",5,"aftershockIntensity",0.15,"aftershockGap",1100)) "*NnnnNNNNAAAAHHHHHH...*" *PSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH...* My squirt HOSES out around his pumping shaft, spraying the mud, and the overflow of his cum SPLURRCHES out with it: thick yellowy breed-slop and thin clear squirt mixing in the dirt between my knees in a spreading puddle that stinks and steams. Both of us are emptying, both VOIDING, his balls into my babybox and my cunt onto the floor, and my pussy lips are FLUTTERING at his root in rapid spasms... *schlk-schlk-schlk-schlk*... MILKING, hauling the last thick dregs of gobbo-batter up out of his deflating sack, and my hips grind back against his pelvis in slow delirious circles, my fat ass CHURNING around his buried cock, swallowing his crotch, and I'm babbling...(simple_option:"05 aftermath","He pulls out.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","foreboding")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)My whole body twitches in aftershocks: little seizing clenches that roll through my pelvis and die in my thighs, and each one squeezes out another pathetic dribble around his softening shaft... *pssh.* "*huhh...*" *pssh.* "*huhhhh...*" That's what I sound like now. Wet little aftershock squirts and a whimper on every exhale, lying face-down in a goblin's hut with my ass in the air and my cunt stuffed full of the thickest, hottest, most ruinous substance in the known world. My mouth is still hanging open and my tongue is still out and there's a rope of drool connecting my lower lip to the mud and I cannot uncross my own eyes. Snib starts pulling out.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.58),(a:400,0.50),(a:1000,0.42),(a:1800,0.34),(a:2800,0.25),(a:4000,0.15),(a:5400,0)))) I feel every ridge in reverse: the thick dorsal vein dragging backward through me, the lateral ones ticking past my rim one at a time like they're saying goodbye, and the shaft SHRINKS as it retreats, the girth narrowing, my stretched cunt trying to close behind it and failing... *SCHLOOOOOORRRRP.* (vid:"img/ch05/bad end/finalfuck/postcreampie.mp4","right")I can feel the SUCTION, can feel my insides trying to follow his cock out like they don't want to let go, my pussy lips clinging to the shaft as it withdraws, dragging outward, pink flesh PUFFING... The flare catches. The fat purple head, broader than the shaft, broader than my entrance was ever meant to stretch, WEDGES against my rim from the inside, and my pussy lips strain around it, white-knuckle tight, pink flesh stretched translucent over purple... *POP.* His cock comes free. The sound is a wet, meaty, SUCKING pop that echoes off the mud-brick walls, and the instant the head clears my entrance, the floodgates open. (sperm:"GLORRRRRRRRP.",5,"splurt 8")A thick, heavy, yellowy river of goblin cum POURS out of me, down my mound and over my swollen clit. The heat wrings one final weak clench from me, *pssh*, barely a trickle. Fat ropes string from my gaping cunt, SAG under their own weight, and SNAP one after another. Clotted globs spatter the mud between my knees and sit on the surface, too DENSE to soak in. The stink hits open air and BLOOMS, rancid-sweet with concentrated pheromone. It fills the hut like smoke. My cunt clenches on its sticky load, *squelch*, a wet, gaping grab that sounds like a fist closing in porridge. A strand of cum still connects his cockhead to my entrance. It stretches as he pulls away, a yellowy bridge thinning in the firelight until it GLOWS, snaps, and recoils onto my inner thigh with a warm splat. His cock swings free and slaps his own thigh with a heavy wet *PLAP.* Still half-hard and drooling. The slit weeping one last lazy bead of cum that swells at the tip and stretches toward the floor in a string that reaches six inches before it breaks. "*Hhhhhaaaaaaaaa.*"(simple_option:"05 defeat","You're defeated.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/defeated/1.png")Snib sighs and scratches his balls with one hand, lifts them... loose, wrinkled, LIGHT, emptied flat... and lets them drop. "*Hurr hurr.* Lookit that. Lookit all that good nut runnin' out." He pokes my inner thigh where a string of cum is cooling. "Oi. Clench up, cow-tits. Yer wastin' it." My cunt obediently clenches on command. Squeezing shut around the load still inside me, my pussy lips puckering closed, and the action sends a tremor up through my belly. "*nnnh...*" *WHAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.46,"pulseMs",125,"count",1,"rest",0))(playwhenread:"spank 1") His palm cracks across my right asscheek and the flesh RIPPLES outward in a slow wave and I feel it jiggle and settle. "That's a PROPER breedin', that is." He sounds satisfied the way a man sounds after a large meal. "That was the GOOD stuff. From the back of Snibby's gobbo-nuts." He slaps the other cheek. *WHAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.48,"pulseMs",125,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Ye should be GRATEFUL." I try to speak. Aldric's voice claws through the warm, cum-drunk mush of my brain and gets one syllable into the air: "I..." My cunt squeezes again. *Squelch.* Another hot trickle runs down my mound. Which sends a throb through my oversensitive clit and the throb triggers a... "*aaahh...*" *pssh.* Aldric sinks back under. "*...s'good...*" I hear myself mumble into the dirt. "*...s'so full...*" "Course yer full. Snibby just nutted a PINT into ye." He waddles around and squats in front of my face. His cock hangs between his knees, still fat and glistening, the crown-warts glazed white and yellowy, six inches from my drooling mouth. "Know what I was thinkin' about?" he says, conversationally. "While I was nuttin' in ye?" "*...huhh...*" "Ye killed all them beasties fer Snibby, din't ye." He picks something out of his teeth. "Fought yer way through a whole cave wi' them fat tits bouncin' an' ye came out all covered in monster guts." He leans closer. His breath is a wall of rot. "An' after ALL yer fightin' an' hero stuff, THIS is where ye end up." He gestures at me. "THAT'S what all that sword-swingin' came to. HURR HURR HURR!" I should hit him. Speak up. Do something. (sperm:"GLORRRRP.",3,"splurt 3")A thick glob of cum oozes out and my hips JERK, causing me to squirt weakly into the mud. "*uuuunnnhhhh...*" "An' yer WIFE," he says, and the word lands in my chest like a fist. "Thinka what she's thinkin' right now. 'Oh please bring me husband back, he's so BRAVE an' STRONG...'" He puts on a high simpering voice. "...an' if she could SEE ye. Heh. If she could see the fuckin' STATE of ye. The great hero, flat on her face, LEAKIN' Snibby's thick smelly nut." (sperm:"GLORRRRP.",2,"splurt 2")"*Oh gods...*" I moan. Horrified. "*Oh gods, oh Flux, oh...*" *Squelch.*(simple_option:"05 elara face","Elara's face comes to you.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/2.png")(hidden_gem:"It floats up through the warm ruined soup of my brain the way a body floats up through dark water: her freckles first, then the copper hair, then those sapphire eyes that looked at a bleeding stranger in her garden and decided to stitch him shut without wine or whisper. The two little graves among the roses where the soil is richest. The way she said *maybe this time it'll take*, her thighs locked around my waist...","Her face floats free through the foul flood in my mind: freckles first, then flame-bright hair, then faithful sapphire eyes fixed on a fallen stranger and finding him worth mending. Two flower-fringed graves. Her fervent whisper, *maybe this time it'll take*, folded around me...")(sperm:"GLORRRRP.",3,"splurt 3")(vid:"img/ch05/bad end/finalfuck/shewillbring.mp4","playwhenvisible") "She will bring the g-gold," I hear myself say. The last card in a hand that was empty three orgasms ago. "She'll bring every c-coin and you'll get your... your money and I'll..." "Aye." Snib picks something off one of his boils. Examines it. Flicks it away. "She will." He pokes my belly. One knobbled green finger pressing into the soft flesh below my navel, right where the warmth is. "Snibby didn't MAKE ye do nuffin." Nine rotten teeth and total victory. "Collar didn't squeeze. Snibby didn't ORDER. Snibby said *buck me off.* Remember that? Said *stand up, hero, one push an' Snibby's in the dirt.*" *Squelch.* My cunt clenches on the truth. "An' what did the big famous hero do?" He leans close enough that his breath fogs my wet cheek. "She pushed her big fat arse BACK onto Snibby's cock." "*Don't...*" The fire pops. Something wet shifts deep inside me. "Yer mine forever, cow-tits." Elara's two little graves flare behind my eyes. We tried for a child. We prayed to Flux for change that never came. And a goblin likely just did it to me on the first try. "*No...*" (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(sperm:"BLOOOOORRRRRRRRRT.",6,"splurt 8")(playwhenread:"elise squirt")My cunt fires a pressurized CANNON-BLAST of cum and squirt that SPRAYS from between my legs with enough force to arc through the firelight and SPLATTER the far wall of the hut in a fat spreading streak of yellowy-white, and the evacuation triggers every muscle south of my ribs and the orgasm DETONATES...(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",12,"peakFrom",0.94,"peakTo",0.16,"gapFrom",300,"gapTo",760,"attackMs",44,"holdMs",105,"releaseMs",130,"gapIntensity",0.04,"peakCurve","swell","aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.13,"aftershockGap",1100))"*NAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH...!!!*" I'm screaming and SQUIRTING all at once, my hips bucking against the air, my fat tits SLAPPING the dirt, my ass CLENCHING and RIPPLING and my cunt spraying the hut in stuttering jets, *PSSSH-PSSSH-PSSSSSSHHHH*, each one weaker than the last, each one punching another sob out of my chest, and goblin cum is ROPING out of me in thick yellowy strings that stretch from my gaping pussy to the mud and my whole body is shaking and my face is a MESS of tears and drool and dirt and I am cumming so hard I can't see and I am crying so hard I can't breathe. "*HURR HURR HURR HURR!*"(change_stat:"heroism",-3)(simple_option:"05 next day","The next day...")

($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","corruption theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")(pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/lick.jpg","right")($play:"sex loop","deepthroat bj")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",1800,"forever",true))"So, if Elara brings... *schlrrp*... if she brings the full amount, then the collar..." His cock falls against my cheek with a wet slap, heavy, the head leaving a smear of precum across my mouth that I lick away without thinking. It's warm and salty and my tongue knows the taste now the way my tongue knows water. "The collar comes off," I say. Clear and firm. "And I walk out of here. That was the deal." Snib scratches his belly. "Aye," he says. "Deal's a deal." "Good. So we need to... we should..." I don't remember when I started kissing the shaft. My lips are pressed against the fat vein on the underside, right where it forks near the root, and I'm giving it small soft kisses while I plan what to say next. "We should talk about the timeline," I say. "Mhm." He reaches down and guides his cock back into my mouth by the head, two knobbled fingers on the crown, thumb in the slit, and feeds it onto my tongue like you'd slot a sword into a scabbard. The head settles onto the flat of my tongue and the warts on the crown print themselves into the soft palate and I feel his slow pulse ticking against my lower lip, and a thick bead of precum oozes from the slit and slides onto my tongue. *Gluk.* What was I saying? I... need to focus. My eyes close. I breathe through my nose, which is a mistake, because his SMELL is there: the rancid top note of unwashed goblin groin and the sweet thing underneath... Thrack... I'm wet. I've been *sopping* wet since I woke up. I haven't been dry since yesterday. I refuse the conclusion. I pull off him again. *SCHLORP.* A rope of spit connects my lower lip to his cockhead and stretches and thins and snaps. "Elara will come... soon... though we need to tell her where your... hut is." "Yer nipples are the size o' little rocks," Snib observes, giving them a tweak. I look down. My tits hang heavy between my arms, the fat pale undersides brushing my thighs, and both nipples are stiff, flushed dark pink, the areolae puckered and tight. They've been like this all morning. "That's... that's not... the POINT is, we need to..." He grabs my hair with one fist. Shoves his cock back in. "*Mmmnnngh...*" My tongue curls around the underside of his cockhead. I find the spot where the frenulum meets the glans and press, and his cock THROBS against my palate, and a fat spurt of precum jets down my throat and I swallow it like water. "*Schlrrrrp... schlrrrp... schlrrrrp...*" I hollow my cheeks and SUCK, and the noise that fills the hut is the most obscene sound a human mouth has ever made around a goblin's penis, a long wet shameless *SHLLLLLURRRRRRRRRRK* that vibrates in my chest. His stubby toes curl and his balls tighten against my chin. "Heh." He pats my head. "Gettin' better!"(simple_option:"05 pull off","Pull off.")

($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/1.png")My voice is hoarse and tastes like him. "The gold..." "Wot about it." "I'm still... I'm still ME," I say. To the cock. I'm saying it to his cock. My lips move against the slit as I speak. "I'm still the hero. I just need to... get you... the gold... we... *SLURP.*" "Awwww." Snib reaches down and pinches both my cheeks, squishing my face up into a pout, his knobbled green fingers denting the perfect skin. "Yer brain's all about gobbo-cock now, innit." "It is NOT..." He lifts it off my tongue. Holds it by the root. Tips it forward. And drapes it across the top of my skull. (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/dickhead.jpg","The full weight of it settles onto my head like a crown.") The full weight of it settles onto my head like a crown. Twelve inches of hot, thick, precum-drizzling goblin meat laid across my scalp, the shaft running from my forehead to the back of my skull, the head hanging past my crown and drooling a slow string down my face. His balls rest against the back of my head, heavy and warm, the coarse hair tangling with my own beautiful mane. The SMELL hits me from above. It's concentrated and inescapable. His full musk pours down over my face like a hood being pulled over my head, and the sweet rancid fog of it enters my skull through my sinuses and shimmers behind my eyes. (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/1.png")My tongue comes out. I feel the focus drain out of my eyes like water out of a cracked bowl, and the thoughts just evaporate. There was something I needed to say. Something about... what? "*Huhhh...*" I can feel my mouth smiling: big, slack, tongue-out, drooling. Pheromone fog settles into my brain like smoke into curtains. Somewhere behind the smile, the old me screams from a locked room. But the scream is very far away. And the cock is very warm, heavy, disgusting, and perfect. "Tell ye what, cow-tits." Snib grins. "Why don't ye drink yer medicine."(simple_option:"05 drink up","Drink up.")

($play:"sex loop","deepthroat bj")He angles his cock down. The fat drooling head settles onto my extended tongue and my lips close around the crown and my cheeks hollow and my eyes roll half-shut and... (sperm:"BLORRRRRT.",4,"splurt 3 internal")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.32),(a:180,0.78),(a:650,0.38),(a:1600,0.72),(a:2150,0.34),(a:3300,0.66),(a:3900,0.30),(a:5200,0.58),(a:5850,0.25),(a:7300,0.44),(a:8000,0.18),(a:9400,0))))The first rope FLOODS my mouth, a fat slug of yellowy goblin nut that sits on my tongue like a clot of warm porridge and I feel the TEXTURE of it, the lumps, the grit, the chewy strands, and the taste coats my teeth, my gums, the roof of my mouth, the insides of my cheeks, and my throat works once, twice... *GLUK. GLUUUK.* (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/drink up.jpg","It goes down HEAVY, a warm dense weight sliding down my throat and landing in my stomach like a meal.") It goes down HEAVY, a warm dense weight sliding down my throat and landing in my stomach like a meal. I feel it SETTLE. My belly warms, my eyes close, and a humming moan slips through my nose. "*Mmmmmnnnnhhhh...*" "DRINK UP." He's got one fist in my hair, the other on the back of my skull, his cock jammed past my tongue, and his hips PUMP, small greedy thrusts that squeeze the shaft and milk another thick GLORRRP of nut-custard onto my tongue. "DRINK YER MEDICINE, COW. That's Snibby's best BRAIN-CURE." *GLUK-GLUK-GLUK.* I have to work my throat to get it down, the muscles straining around clots that sit and resist before my esophagus CHEWS them through... and the sheer VOLUME, my cheeks puffing out around what I can't swallow fast enough, yellowy-white oozing from the corners of my stretched lips and running down my chin and DRIPPING off my jaw onto the shelf of my tits below, and I'm making these WET desperate nursing sounds... "*Schlg-gluuk-schlg-gluuk-schlg...*"(simple_option:"05 that evening","That evening...")

(vid:"img/ch05/bad end/finalfuck/fuck.mp4") ($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","corruption theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")($play:"sex loop","sex no moan")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.50,"peakTo",0.64,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",950,"intervalTo",750,"attackMs",90,"sustainMs",95,"releaseMs",165,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.05,"intervalJitter",0.08,"depthJitter",0.04))"So," Snib says, adjusting his footing on the crate behind me. "What d'ye FINK about gobbos." *PLAP PLAP PLAP.* His green pelvis meets my upturned ass and both cheeks wobble outward from the impact and settle and my tits swing forward under my chest and knock together, *plop*, heavy, pendulous, nipples dragging warm through the fur. "I think you're... vermin," I say. "Ooh." *PLAP.* "Care to explain that big word to a simple gobbo?" "It means you're... *nngh*... pests, PARASITES, you contribute nothing to the world, you have no culture, no... *PLAP*... no art, no..." "Mhm. Mhm. Keep goin'." "You BREED our women against their..." *PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP.* "Ngh- against their WILL, you... *aaahhn*... you INVADE our homes and you TAKE what isn't..." "Wossat about breedin'?" "I SAID you breed our..." "Mhm. Mhm." *PLAP.* "Sounds bad." "You're MONSTERS," I spit. "I've killed SO MANY of your kind, I've burned your warrens, I've..." "Mhm." "...stood over your dead with Whisperwind DRIPPING and I didn't feel a THING, not a single OUNCE OF rem..." "Sounds like ye were busy." *PLAP.* "I WAS busy, I was busy EXTERMINATING your disgusting..." "Can I ask summat?" *PLAP.* "WHAT." "While ye were doin' all that exterminatin'..." He adjusts his grip on my hip. His thumb traces a slow circle on the swell of my ass. "...didja think ye'd get bred by one?" The question sits in the firelit air and my mouth opens to answer it and nothing comes out. *sptt.* A hot little spurt leaks out around his shaft and hits the fur. That is my answer. "I," I start. He lifts my leg. One stubby green hand lets go of my hip and hooks under my right knee and HOISTS, yanking my thigh toward the thatch, and my balance goes sideways and I crash onto my left shoulder and my right leg is in the air and my whole hip opens like a gate. "*Aagh.*" (hidden_gem:"His cock slides off the wall it knows and onto something else, a pocket of nerve-flesh tucked up behind where he's been fucking, and the warted crown grinds across it, and every wart is a new letter in a word my body is learning to read.","His welted crown wanders onto willing nerve-flesh, and each wart writes one wicked letter in the wet word my womb is learning by rote.") Then he hammers.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.70,"peakTo",0.84,"baseFrom",0.07,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",380,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",38,"releaseMs",62,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.09,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.07)) His hips are a green blur against my one upturned cheek, the other crushed flat into the fur. *SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP.* My tits go sideways with the rest of me. One is pinned under my ribs, squeezed out and bulging on every impact, fat white flesh escaping in slow rolls. The other flops free and slaps the ground. *FLOP. FLOP. FLOP.* A half-stone of pale wobbling meat smacking the fur like a landed fish. The nipple catches on the weave, bends, springs back, catches again. My ass answers every slam a half-beat late, still rising when the next blow lands, and the whole jiggling architecture of me is keeping its own time now, flesh obeying gravity and nothing else. "YER CUNT'S GOT OPINIONS ABOUT GOBBOS TOO," Snib squeals, and his claws prick the soft skin behind my knee. I try to answer, but his cock is occupying the part of my brain where language lives. Twelve inches of warted green meat packing my thoughts flat with every stroke. What comes out of me instead: "*AAH. AAH. OOH. AAH. AAH.*" The voice that commanded shield-walls. The voice Elara drifted asleep to... ...becomes a barnyard. *PSSSSHH.*(playwhenread:"squirt") "There she GOES," Snib pants, his pot-belly clapping my upturned cheek on every stroke. "Sing it, cow." "I," *AAGH,* "I HATE your," *AAGH,* "your disgusting," *AAGH AAGH.* "Mhm?" "Your SPECIES is, oh GODS, your species is a BLIGHT on," *AAGH,* "on the whole of," *AAGH AAGH AAGH,* "THE ENTIRE..." *PSSSSSHHHH.* "*Heehee.*"(simple_option:"05 that evening breaking","The pressure keeps rising.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","corruption theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",16,"peakFrom",0.98,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",760,"attackMs",42,"holdMs",110,"releaseMs",135,"gapIntensity",0.06,"peakCurve","plateau","aftershocks",5,"aftershockIntensity",0.16,"aftershockGap",1100))The orgasm rises like water in a room with no drain. Ankles first. A tingling, then a warmth. Then calves. Then thighs. My belly. Rising. I keep waiting for the crest, the high-water mark, the place where it breaks and lets me come back down. It just keeps rising. My mouth won't close. My eyes won't unroll. My tongue is out and I can't pull it back in, and a rope of drool swings from the tip of it in time with the fucking. "*AAAAAAHHHH. AAAAAAHHHHHH. AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH.*" The squirt is a continuous stream now,(playwhenread:"squirt") a pressurized spray hosing out around his hammering cock, *SSSSSSHHHHHHHH*, soaking the fur, soaking his crate, drumming the dirt in a wide steaming fan, and it comes in stutters and gusts, *pssh, pssh-pssh, SSSSHHH*, like a split wineskin someone keeps squeezing, and he's LAUGHING, cackling while I hose his hut down with my own defeat. "HATE," *SSSSHH,* "I HATE," *SSSHH,* "YOUR DISGUSTING," *AAAAHH,* "GOBLIN..." His cock rams the sentence out of my head. The water reaches my throat. My hoisted leg shakes, the whole thigh trembling, the muscles gone to nothing, my toes curled to cramp. "RIGHT THEN," grunts my master. His cock THICKENS against my shaking walls. The shaft goes from hard to iron. The warts on the crown engorge until each one is a distinct hard knot pressing into my well-fucked pussy walls, and I feel the whole obscene length of him swell, the fat vein on his underside ticking like a second heartbeat against my rim. He grabs my right arm. Pulls it toward his face, and bites down. Nine crooked rotten teeth sink into the soft flesh of my inner forearm and his jaw LOCKS and the sound that comes through his clenched teeth is the sound of an animal at a trough. "*NNNNGGGGHHHHHRRRRRRKKK.*" (sperm:"BLORRRP.",5,"splurt 3 internal")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.44),(a:180,0.90),(a:700,0.48),(a:2100,0.86),(a:2750,0.44),(a:4400,0.82),(a:5100,0.40),(a:7000,0.76),(a:7750,0.35),(a:9800,0.66),(a:10600,0.28),(a:12800,0.46),(a:14000,0))))The first jet hits me inside like a fist of hot mud. Pressurized, thick, ANGRY. I feel the splatter of it coat my insides, and through his clenched teeth, biting down harder: "*HRRK.* GOBBO. *HRRK.* PROPERTY." Another jet. "*HRRK.* BRED. *HRRK.* BITCH." (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/creampie bite.png","'*HRRK.* BRED. *HRRK.* BITCH.'") His teeth grind. I feel the points break skin, small wet punctures, one at a time. Every word comes squeezed through his locked jaw in time with a surge, his insults and his seed pulsing in the same rhythm, breeding me with both at once, packing into me with a dense wet sound. (sperm:"GLORRP. GLORRP. GLORRP.",5,"splurt 4 internal")I can feel the volume of it. My belly going tight and warm and FULL. Each surge slower and heavier than the last, paste now, mortar, packed into me by his grinding hips, and the overflow starts, yellowy-white goo squeezing out around his shaft in sluggish globs that drool down my mound and hang and stretch and... (sperm:"PLOP. PLOP.",2,"splat 1")...spatter the soaked fur. "*HRRK.* MINE. *HRRK.* FOREVER. *HRRK.* MINE." One word per splurt. His teeth in my arm. His cum in my womb. His ownership written in two places at once, and I can feel his balls draining against my mound, swollen going to slack, the weight transferring from his body to mine. His to mine. His to MINE. "*HRRRRRRRRRRRK.*" His whole stunted frame goes rigid, jaw clamped on my arm, toes curled, every muscle locked in the final clench of a creature completely voiding itself, and I feel the last thick plug of gobbo-nut exit his slit and LODGE inside me, and my cunt closes around it like a mouth swallowing a stone. My leg drops. My hips hit the fur. My tits settle and keep quivering, the nipples raw from dragging. My cunt clenches in slow aftershocks around his softening cock. *schlk... schlk...* Milking, automatic. Grateful. I am lying in my own puddle. My thighs are glazed and trembling in small fluttering waves I can't stop. My nose is running. My breath comes in little hiccupping whimpers that puff the fur. His cock is still inside me, going soft and warm, and I can feel his heartbeat through it, slowing, satisfied, the pulse of something that just emptied itself completely and has no complaints about where it went. I try one last time. "Goblin... cocks..." I pant into the fur. "Mm?" The hero's sentence waits: *the most disgusting things in the world.* My mouth moves. "...are so... fucking... big." "*HURR HURR HURR HURR HURR.*"(change_stat:"heroism",-4)(simple_option:"05 next morning","The next morning...")

($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","corruption theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)"Bucket," Snib says, scratching his belly with one hand and his sack with the other. "Snibby's gotta piss. Give us a hand." I cross the hut for it. The hide-flap has fallen half open and outside the light is doing that pale desert thing, and there in the sand is the crossguard. Whisperwind. Three inches of bruised-purple blade above the drift, the rest buried where I left it after the dungeon. The wind moves a thin veil of sand across the hilt while I watch. The bucket handle is by the door. "Bucket, cow-tits. Today." I pick up the bucket. Snib's already up on the crate by the far wall, loincloth dropped, waiting. His cock hangs soft between his bandy legs, and even soft it's obscene, a fat green log that ends past his knee, the plum-head spongy and dark and half-swallowed by its own foreskin, the whole thing swaying slightly with his breathing like something sleeping that hasn't been told it's asleep. I set the bucket down beside the crate and kneel and reach up and take hold of it. It needs two hands. My right slides under the shaft, cradling the weight. My left wraps the top, fingers nowhere near meeting, guiding the head down toward the bucket mouth. The skin moves under my palms, loose, sliding over the meat beneath like a sleeve two sizes big. The warts are rubbery this morning, soft, giving under my thumb. The slit pouts at me, damp, slightly open, and it smells worse soft than hard, the whole previous day fermented overnight under the foreskin, a smell with actual weight, and my nostrils flare and my mouth waters. It has a pulse, even soft. I can feel it in my palm. A slow, fat, bored little heartbeat. The bite-mark on my forearm is purple today, yellowing at the edges. Nine crooked crescents. "Lower," Snib says. "LOWER. Ye want it on the floor? Ye just cleaned the floor." I lower it. The head dips past the bucket rim. My left hand adjusts the angle, small corrections, the grip settling into something my shoulders remember, control hand and support hand, and my body falls into the stance before my mind catches up with what the stance used to be for. "Ahh," Snib says to the ceiling, lacing his hands on his belly. "Here she comes." The stream starts. (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/pee.jpg") It hits the bucket and the bucket THRUMS, a deep hollow *tok-tok-tok-tok* that speeds up as the stream strengthens, a war-drum being played at the wrong tempo, and steam coils up past my face carrying the sharp animal reek of him, and I breathe through my mouth and that makes it worse, that puts it on my tongue. "Steady," he sighs, a man at complete ease. "That's it. Ye're gettin' good at that." The stream goes on. And on. The drumming deepens as the bucket fills, the note dropping, and a droplet jumps the rim and lands on my left tit, hot, and sits there, and I don't wipe it because both my hands are occupied. My nipples harden. I notice. I hate it. I can't stop it. "Yer a natural, ye know," Snib says, still addressing the ceiling. "Shame about all them wasted years wi' the sword. THIS is what them hands was built fer." Through the flap, a gust lays a fresh veil of sand over the crossguard. The stream stutters. Thins. The drumming slows. *Tok. Tok. Tok.* "Shake it," Snib says. "Proper shake." I shake it. The whole soft heavy length of it swinging in my grip, the head flopping, a last few drops arcing into the bucket. "Ye missed one." I shake it again. Longer. And the weight in my hands redistributes itself, subtle, the whole mass of it shifting like something that has started listening. The slit opens and closes once. A little mouth, breathing. The cock gives a small reflexive kick in my palms, *thwap*, like a hound's leg twitching in a dream. "Well," Snib says, delighted, not surprised. "Look what ye went an' did." (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")It rises in my hands. I stand still while it rises. The veins lift one at a time against my palm, each a slow dark ridge. The warts harden under my fingers like knuckles cracking. The thickening shaft forces my grip open while the foreskin peels back in little jerks, *schlip, schlip*, revealing the purple head in glossy increments. The smell doubles, doubles again, until my eyes water. My right hand loses its job. The cock is self-carrying now, lifting itself out of my cradling palm, rising past horizontal, past the bucket, toward my face, and my left hand is still wrapped around it from the shaking and now it's just wrapped around it, no task left, no bucket to aim at.(simple_option:"05 next morning turns","Time for your next chore.")

(pic:"ch04/bad end/elara hj cock.jpg","right","'Ye got it all riled up,' he says.")($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","corruption theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/2.png")($play:"sex loop","handjob")"Is that everything?" I ask, like a chambermaid inspecting the hearth. Snib looks down at me. His yellow eyes go from my face to my hands to his cock and back to my face. "Ye got it all riled up," he says. "That's on YE, that is." "I was only shaking it, like you said..." "Ye broke it, ye fix it." He steps fully onto the crate, and now his cock is level with my eyes, the head flushed dark and drooling, the warts standing hard along the crown, and from this angle, kneeling, looking up past the length of it, I can see his little pot-belly and his bandy legs and his stupid grinning face, and the whole apparatus of my own humiliation arranged above me like a statue on a plinth. "Open yer gob," he says. "Face UP. Tongue out." "Yes, Master." The words fall out of my mouth like a coin through a hole in a pocket. I open my mouth. My tongue comes out. "Elara," I manage, weakly, through my open mouth, drool already stringing. "Elara will bring the g-gold, she'll bring every..." "Uh-huh." Snib wraps his warty hand around his own shaft, right where my hand was, and starts to stroke. His hips pushing into his own fist. "Tell ye what, though. Life's good NOW, innit. Snibby wakes up, gets his piss held, gets his breakfast cooked, gets his cock aimed at the prettiest hero face in the desert." *Schlk. Schlk.* "Why'd Snibby want gold when he's got all THIS?" (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/jerkoff.png","left","I open my mouth. My tongue comes out.")His eyes travel down from my face. Over my hanging tits, heavy and swaying slightly with my breathing, the piss droplet still sitting on the left one. Down to the swell of my hips, the fat of my ass where it presses my calves. Back up. It's an inventory look. A man checking his larder. His strokes get faster.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.28,"peakTo",0.45,"baseFrom",0.04,"baseTo",0.03,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",320,"attackMs",32,"sustainMs",30,"releaseMs",55,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.12,"depthJitter",0.04)) His breathing goes ragged and wet. His balls pull up, the loose wrinkled sack tightening, the stones rising, and I can see it happen, and my cunt gives a small sympathetic flutter. "Eyes OPEN. Snibby wants to see 'em," he grunts.(simple_option:"05 cum face","He cums.")

(pic:"ch02/bad end/bj cum on face again.jpg") (sperm:"BLORRRT.",4,"splurt 4")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",7,"peakFrom",0.74,"peakTo",0.12,"gapFrom",450,"gapTo",820,"attackMs",62,"holdMs",160,"releaseMs",215,"gapIntensity",0,"peakCurve","soft","aftershocks",2,"aftershockIntensity",0.08,"aftershockGap",1450))The first rope arcs clear of him. It catches the firelight and hangs for one heartbeat, a fat yellowy-white ribbon, then falls diagonally across my face from forehead to cheek. Its mass lies hot and heavy on my skin, as deliberate as a brand. *Sptt*, goes my cunt, onto the dirt between my knees. "*HRRRK,*" Snib grunts, his whole body clenching, his strokes going fast and mean. "THAT'S where it goes!" (sperm:"SPLURT.",3,"splurt 2")The second rope is shorter. It hits my mouth. My tongue is out and the rope lands across it and the taste is immediate and total, thick and fungal-sweet, coating everything, and my left eye glues shut, lashes sticking, the world going flat and half-dark. *Sptt*, goes my cunt. (sperm:"SPLRRT.",3,"splurt 3")The third rope hits my right eye dead center and the sting is chemical, instant, a low burn that makes the eye water in a flood, and my own tears carry his cum down my cheek in a warm diluted runnel, and through my one open eye, through the flap-gap, I can see the crossguard, catching the light. *Sptt.* My cunt answering his cock like a bell. Ring, answer. Ring, answer. It takes me three ropes to connect the two events, and when I do, the connection doesn't help. It just happens anyway. "*HRRRK-HRRRK.* All over yer pretty FACE," Snib grunts, still stroking, still firing, his little body jackknifing on the crate. "That's what it's FOR!" (sperm:"BLRRT.",2,"splurt 1")The fourth dribbles onto my chin and strings down to my collarbone, and a drop hangs off my jaw, stretching toward my tits, and falls, and lands on the slope of the left one, next to the piss droplet from before. (sperm:"plut.",2,"splat 1")The fifth lands in my hair with an audible pat, and sits there, a warm weight on my scalp, and some part of me understands I'll be finding this one tomorrow. Three strings connect his slit to my face. They stretch, accordion, snap, and recoil onto my chin in small wet lashes. (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/cumface.png","right","*Sptt*, goes my cunt, onto the dirt between my knees.")"*Hhhhhaaaaa,*" Snib sighs above me, shaking out the last of it onto my forehead. "That's the stuff." He steps down off the crate. Tucks himself away. Waddles back toward the fire, already done with me, and over his shoulder: "Empty the bucket first." I look down at it. Full. Sloshing. Heavy. Both hands. I rise, and my thighs slide against each other, glazed, and the cum on my face is already tightening, cooling, pulling my skin, one eye sealed, my jaw held slightly open by the weight on my tongue. Somewhere behind my ribs, flat and quiet, a ledger opens and a hand that used to hold a sword writes one line in it and closes it again. *Chores before pride.* The wind moves the sand outside, and the sand takes another inch of nothing in particular.(pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/aftermath.jpg","'*Hhhhhaaaaa,*' Snib sighs above me, shaking out the last of it onto my forehead. 'That's the stuff.'")(simple_option:"05 that night","That night...")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","corruption theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)Snib snores. Wet rattling, three quick snorts, a whistle, a gap. I breathe in time with it. Inhale during the snorts. Hold during the whistle. Exhale in the gap. I can't sleep. The straw under me is damp from earlier. My ass is spread flat in the wet patch, the new fat of it soaking up what leaked out of me hours ago, and one stalk is stabbing my left cheek and I don't shift because shifting means my thighs will slide and when they slid an hour ago they made a sound, soft and wet, and my whole body went hot. My face is tight where his cum dried. Stiff cords in my hair pull when I turn my head. The throb won't stop. (hidden_gem:"It lives behind my pubic bone, pulsing with my heartbeat, a slow warm pull that drags my attention down every time I think about something else. My whole body is strung with it. Little wires I can't see running from my cunt to my nipples, from my cunt to the arches of my feet, from my cunt to the spot behind my ears where my pulse taps. All of them humming.","Warm want works behind my womb-bone, winding invisible wires from wet cunt to waiting nipples, wandering feet, and the whispering pulse beneath my ears. Every wire whines.") I try Eon's prayer. *Eon, Keeper of What Was, remember Aldric. Remember the oath he swore to...* Eon remembers oaths. Eon remembers debts. He remembers my hips pushing backward onto a goblin's cock without a collar order. He knows what I am about to do alone. The prayer stops, because I don't know the next line, and my hand is already on my stomach. I'm checking. Pressing flat against the soft place below my navel, feeling for a difference. There can't be one after two days, I know that. But every twitch in my pelvis feels like testimony, and my palm stays there, pressing, and the pressure changes something deeper down, shifts the ache from a throb to a warmth, and the warmth spreads. The warmth soothes me. (pic:"ch03/night first touch.jpg","left","I move my hand lower.")I move my hand lower. My fingertips find the mound and press flat and the ache underneath sharpens into something specific and my hips roll forward into my own palm before I tell them to. *Schlk.* Wet. Of course. My outer lips are fat and flushed and hotter than the rest of my skin, swollen past the point where they sit flat, and when I push two fingers between them they resist, stuck together with their own slick, and separating them makes a sound I hear in my teeth. *Sshhhlk.* Strings stretch between them as they part. I feel them against my fingertips, thin wet filaments pulling across the gap, one, two, three of them, and they break one at a time and the last one snaps against my knuckle and leaves a cold line. Inside, my clit is hard and exposed, pushed out of its hood, and touching it directly would make me cry out, so I don't. I press my whole hand flat and grind the heel of my palm against the mound instead, slow pressure, and the indirect weight makes my clit pulse and throb behind its hood and my inner walls squeeze nothing, a contraction I feel in my stomach, my lower back, the backs of my knees. My hips start moving.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.16,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1600,"forever",true)) Small circles. My ass dragging through the straw, the fat of it lagging behind each motion and settling late, and the sound of straw scraping against wet flesh is louder than his snoring and I freeze, listening, counting... Three snorts. Whistle. Gap. Still asleep. I move again. My hand finds a rhythm with my hips, grinding in circles, and the slick coats my palm and runs between my fingers and down my wrist and drips off my knuckles into the straw, and the wet sound is rhythmic and obscene and I press my face into my other arm to muffle my breathing and my elbow brushes my right tit. The tit falls outward when I'm on my back, heavy, dragging toward my arm, the skin on the underside pulling with its own weight. My hand finds it. Holds it from underneath. Supports the pull. And squeezes. My fingers sink in. The fat flesh bulges between my knuckles and spills over the edges of my hand and I can't contain it, there's too much, and the squeeze sends a shock down through my belly that answers in my clit, a hard throb that makes my hips stutter in their circle, and I squeeze again, harder, watching my fingers leave temporary white hollows in pale flesh that fill back in and wobble and settle. (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/masturbate.png") *Four. Maybe five.* Snib's voice in my head. *Big fat jugs like these'll feed four. Each. Maybe five.* My thumb crosses the nipple. Accidentally. The nipple is stiff and puffy and the contact sends a pulse straight down that tightens my whole pelvis and my inner muscles clench and release in a slow deliberate wave and the wave brings a fresh gush of wetness into my palm and the grinding gets faster and the wet sound gets louder... *schlk-schlk-schlk-schlk...*(simple_option:"05 that night elara","Think about Elara.")

(pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/masturbate elara.jpg","right","*Think about Elara. NOW. Before you lose it.*")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/2.png")*Think about Elara. NOW. Before you lose it.* Elara. Our bed. The morning light through the shutters. Her humming in the kitchen. My tunic hanging off her shoulders down to her thighs. Her ass making that tunic look *good*. *Maybe this time it'll take.* The grinding slows. My hips still. The throb recedes to a quiet pulse. Good. Good. Her face is there, whole and clear, sapphire eyes and copper hair and the freckles across her collarbones that I counted one winter morning like a man mapping stars... *Two little graves among the roses.* My eyes burn. The hand on my tit stops squeezing. My palm stills on my mound. The ache sits there, warm and patient and waiting. *Elara wanted a child. We tried. We failed. Twice. And now I'm lying in a goblin's straw with two loads of his seed sloshing in me and I'm probably...* The prayer to Flux rises in my throat before I can stop it. *Flux, turn me back! Change me. Restore what was...* And I can't finish it. Because if Flux turns me back tonight, the womb goes. Everything in it goes. And if there is something in it, something small and alive and innocent that didn't ask to be made in the dark by a creature with nine teeth, then the prayer isn't a prayer for restoration. It's a prayer for their deaths. *Change me back. But not if it kills them.* The amended prayer sits in my chest like a stone in a boot and I hear myself say it and the saying is the worst thing that has happened to me since the collar closed, worse than the piston, worse than the cum in my face, worse than everything, because this is the first time I have asked, even conditionally, for this body to stay.(simple_option:"05 that night prayer breaks","The prayer does not hold.")($play:"sex loop","elise masturbating")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","corruption theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")($play:"sex loop","elise masturbation orgasm")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.28,"amplitude",0.12,"periodMs",700,"forever",true))My hand starts moving again. Faster. I don't decide it. The wetness is everywhere now, running down the crack of my ass and pooling in the small of my back, and my fingers slide between the fat outer lips and find the hard bead and circle it properly, two fingers, fast tight circles, and my thighs open wider on their own and my pelvis tilts up and the straw rustles and I don't care... *Think about Elara. Her mouth. Her hands. HER...* But Elara's hands are smooth. Clean. And the hands in my head are knobbled and warty and green and the body attached to them is three foot eight with a pot-belly and boil-crusted shoulders and breath like a latrine and a cock that... His cock. I stop pretending and let myself see it. Twelve inches of dark green meat, the shaft thick as my wrist, the warts on the crown standing hard, the plum-purple head flushed and drooling, the fat vein ticking along the underside like a pulse I can read with my tongue, the foreskin peeling back in slow jerks as it rises, and the memory of the WEIGHT of it in my hands this morning, soft and heavy, needing both hands, the skin loose and sliding over the meat beneath... Then the memory of it INSIDE me: the stretch, the fullness, the warts catching on my rim, the first scalding gout of his nut striking the back of my womb and settling like a stone dropped in warm water. My fingers are a blur. My clit is on fire. My hips buck against my hand, lifting my ass off the straw while my tits bounce against my arm, *plap-plap-plap*. I grab the right one and SQUEEZE, fingers digging into the wobbling meat. Pain and pleasure braid together. Words, sobs, and moans grind into one wet, desperate noise against my arm. *Eon, remember...* ...his cock pumping... *Flux, change...* ...his balls draining, the weight transferring... *Verge, give me a door, give me a door that...* ...the way my cunt swallowed each rope, *GLUK-GLUK-GLUK*, and how full I felt, how COMPLETE... *Please.* *Please.* *Please!!!* That's when the orgasm takes me.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",12,"peakFrom",0.92,"peakTo",0.16,"gapFrom",300,"gapTo",720,"attackMs",44,"holdMs",100,"releaseMs",128,"gapIntensity",0.04,"peakCurve","swell","aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.13,"aftershockGap",1050)) My whole pelvis locks, muscles seizing from my knees to my ribs, my inner walls clamping down on my two fingers so hard I feel my own pulse hammering through them, and my back bends and my hips drive upward off the straw and my hand on my tit squeezes hard enough to bruise, fingers buried in the fat wobbling flesh, and the squirt... (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/masturbate orgasm.jpg","") *PSSSSHHHH.* -fires out of me in pulses and I feel each one leave my body, *pssh, pssh, PSSSH, pssh*, hot jets hosing past my fingers and drumming the straw and soaking the inside of my thigh in a fan that spreads and keeps spreading, and the pressure in my belly releases in waves, each wave washing warmth upward through my chest and my throat and into my face, and my mouth opens around the sob I can't stop, a broken keening sound I bite down on with my teeth, and the pleasure is so total that it doesn't feel like pleasure anymore, it feels like being dissolved, like the edges of me are going soft and melting into the straw... At the peak, a line from the academy sears across me. *Goblin seed triggers immediate ovulation regardless of cycle.* My cunt answers around my fingers, squeezing and pulling in a long, slow milking contraction written into the body beneath my will. I sob into the crook of my elbow while my hips roll through the aftershocks, grinding the last waves against my palm until the pressure drains. Snib's snoring stops. I freeze. Hand still between my legs. Fingers still inside me. Thighs still open. The last contraction still rippling through my pelvis, *squeeze, release*. A rustle. A grunt. A cough. The furs shift. I don't breathe. "Whuh." Smacking lips. A yawn. "Cow-tits?" "Nothing." My voice comes out cracked and small and wet. "Go back to sleep." "Mmph." He rolls over. The snoring resumes. Three snorts. Whistle. Gap. I pull my fingers out. They glisten. My hand moves to my belly. Flat-palmed against the soft skin below my navel, pressing gently, a gesture I recognize a half-second too late.(change_stat:"heroism",-4)(simple_option:"05 next morning 2","The next morning...")

($play:"ambience","desert morning")(playwhenread:"cooking")($play:"song","corruption theme")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/neutral/2.png")(pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/rabbit.jpg") ($play:"sex loop",0)The hare is browning on a flat stone by the coals and the fat renders and drips and the smell fills the hut, rich and gamey, and my stomach clenches so hard it makes a sound over the fire. I killed it yesterday. Tracked it through the scrub for two hours in desert heat, dropped it with an arrow at twenty paces. My mouth floods. I haven't eaten since yesterday morning. Maybe longer. I've been... busy. Snib waddles over and squats by the fire and tears a leg off with his fingers, grease running down his green knuckles, and takes a bite that sounds like someone stepping in mud. "Good. Ye cooked it proper." I wait. He takes another bite. Chews. Swallows. Reaches for the other leg. "Can I," I start. "Hm?" "Can I have some?" Snib looks at the hare. Looks at me. Looks at his own crotch. "Ye don't eat at the table no more, cow." He tears off another strip and stuffs it in his mouth. "Jus' decided." Understanding takes three full seconds. "No." "Then don't eat." He finishes the leg. Tosses the bone into the corner. Reaches for the other one. "I'm hungry." My voice is thinner than I want it to be. He leans back on his furs, one hand on his belly, the other scratching at the side of his sack through the loincloth, and the dark weight underneath shifts, and my eyes track the motion before my brain drags them back. "I'm not going to..." "Suit yerself." He closes his eyes. "Snibby'll nap." My stomach cramps. I look at the hare. Right there. I could reach across and take it. My eyes settle on the dark weight beneath his loincloth, and my mouth waters.(simple_option:"05 next morning 2 crawl","Cross the three feet.")

(pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/pre breakfast.jpg") ($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","corruption theme")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/3.png")I get on my hands and knees. The crawl is three feet. From the fire to the furs. Three feet on all fours, naked, tits swinging beneath me with each reach, fat undersides brushing packed dirt, hair falling in a black curtain on either side of my face, ass up behind me, and I know he can hear the flesh moving even with his eyes closed. The soft slap of thigh on thigh. The quiet plap of my tits touching the ground. His feet are closest. Green toes, cracked nails, and the smell of him gets stronger as I rise up his body, past stubby calves, knobby knees, thighs, and there, sprawled with one hand on his belly, is the source. I lift the loincloth. The smell hits concentrated, musky, and my nostrils flare and my mouth floods so fast I have to swallow. His cock lies soft across his thigh. Fat. Slack. The green skin darker at the base where wiry pubic hair starts, coarse and curling, stray strands clinging to the shaft. The head half-covered by foreskin, purple peeking out, the slit a damp pout catching firelight. I lift it with one hand and the weight settles across my palm like something sleeping, skin loose and sliding over dense meat, the warts on the crown soft and rubbery. "Balls first," Snib says without opening his eyes. "Ask the pantry." His sack hangs between his thighs. Loose. Wrinkled. Two heavy stones in thin green skin that shows every vein, and when I cup it the contents shift, slow and liquid, a dense sloshing weight settling into my palm and rearranging itself, churning like something alive that knows I'm close. I press my face into his crotch. Wiry hair scratches my cheeks. My nose presses the base of his cock and the smell is in my sinuses, coating the back of my throat, sitting on my palate like a thumb pressing down, and my stomach growls against his thigh and he chuckles. "Ask nice." "Please," I mumble into his pubic hair. "Please let me eat." "Ask 'EM. Not me." I cup his balls. Feel the weight. My mouth watering so hard I have to keep swallowing, each one a sound, *gluk*, and he hears it. "Please," I say to his balls, muffled by crotch and hair and shame. "Please. Feed me." The balls clench. Once. A small contraction in my palm, contents rising, pressing the skin, and a bead forms at the slit. Clear. Thin. The first kind: lubricant. It wells up and trembles and my mouth opens. "Good cow." His cock stirs. Weight redistributing, the mass shifting like something waking, veins standing up along the shaft one at a time, foreskin peeling back. I stroke it toward my mouth. The clear bead stretches on my tongue. Slippery. Almost tasteless. A primer coating my tongue in film that makes everything after it stronger. I close my lips around the head.(playwhenread:"deepthroat bj")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.16,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",1800,"forever",true)) My mouth seals behind the flare and the head sits on my tongue, heavy, hot, pulsing faintly, and the taste arrives. The cloudy stuff. Second stage. Thicker, milky, coating the head in a film my tongue maps as it explores, the broad slit, the bumpy crown, and the cloudy precum oozes in a slow drizzle that pools under my tongue and builds until I have to swallow. *GLUK.* Slippery. Slightly bitter. Coating my throat. The taste settles into the grooves of my tongue and my mouth fills again because the drizzle is continuous and the rhythm becomes: collect, swallow, collect, swallow. *Gluk. Gluk. Gluk.* Snib's hand rests in my hair. Fingers spreading through the black strands, scratching my scalp idly, the way you'd scratch a dog at your feet. "Take yer time." My jaw aches. Cheeks hollowing with suction. The wet sounds obscene, *schlk-schlk-schlk*, saliva mixing with cloudy precum and frothing at the corners of my stretched lips, bubbling, dripping down my chin. The third kind of precum arrives without warning. Thick. A bead that sits on my tongue and doesn't spread, dense, heavy, and I have to move it deliberately, push it to the back with a motion that opens my throat, and swallow it whole, and I feel it travel down, a slow lump my esophagus strains around, my eyes watering. His balls churn in my hand. I feel them working, contents shifting, the mass contracting and relaxing in slow waves, the sack tightening, stones rising, and through the skin something MOVING, purposeful, the plumbing preparing. "Fondle 'em. Gentle-like." I roll them. The left slides against the right, dense, hot, the left heavier, fuller, and when I squeeze gently the contents shift with a deep internal *glorp*, and his cock KICKS in my mouth. The kick ejects a fresh gout across my tongue and I swallow reflexively, *GLUK*, denser this time, textured, gritty against my back teeth, rancid, coating, and my sinuses flare with it, the smell entering through the back of my throat, a full-head experience, and my hair roots prickle.(simple_option:"05 next morning 2 meal","The meal begins.")

($play:"ambience","desert morning")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/lewd/1.png")($play:"song","goblin ending")($play:"sex loop","quiet bj")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.34),(a:180,0.84),(a:700,0.44),(a:2100,0.80),(a:2750,0.40),(a:4400,0.76),(a:5100,0.36),(a:7000,0.68),(a:7800,0.31),(a:9800,0.58),(a:10600,0.26),(a:12800,0.42),(a:14000,0))))"Don't spill. That's yer BREAKFAST. Ye spill it, ye don't eat." His cock THROBS. The shaft fattening against my tongue, head bloating, warts engorging to hard distinct knots pressing the roof of my mouth, the slit YAWNING open, the urethra swelling underneath, and something heavy coming up through him, a dense mass traveling the length, his balls clenching hard in my hand... (sperm:"BLORRRP.",4,"splurt 1 internal")The first spurt hits the back of my throat with force. Hot. Thin compared to what's coming. A pressurized spray coating my soft palate and tonsils in a scalding wash and my eyes go WIDE because the taste is everything, the concentrated essence of every load before, and my throat works before I decide, *GLUK*, reflex, my body gulping it down before my mind can object. "*HRRRK.*" (sperm:"GLORRRP.",5,"splurt 3 internal")The second is thicker. A slug. It lands on my tongue and SITS, heavy and clotted, yellowy gobbo-gruel occupying my entire mouth like porridge someone keeps adding to, and I can't swallow it all at once so I work it in stages, push half back, swallow, *GLUK*, feel the lump travel down slow and heavy, my esophagus straining, eyes streaming, then deal with the rest melting into my molars, sticky, requiring my tongue to scrape it free... (sperm:"SPLUUURT.",4,"splurt 2 internal")The next catches me mid-swallow. Hits the roof of my mouth while my throat is still working, and the combination is too much, and a thick glob escapes the corner of my stretched lips and runs down my chin and lands on my left tit with a soft *plop*. *GLUK-GLUK-GLUK.* Three swallows. My throat working overtime, each one a visible bulge down my neck, the taste in my sinuses now, filling my whole head, eyes wide and streaming, hair roots prickling so hard my scalp feels alive, and through it all my cunt drips onto the dirt between my knees, *sptt, sptt*, small sympathetic spurts answering each swallow. (sperm:"BLUUUURRT.",5,"splurt 4 internal")The fourth is a clot. Nearly solid. Exits his slit with a wet *GLORP* and lands on my tongue like a stone and my mouth can't hold it so it slides toward my throat and lodges there, a dense mass my muscles have to CHEW to move, peristaltic waves working around it, pushing it down inch by inch, and the sensation is DIGESTIVE, my body processing a meal, a thick disgusting meal delivered directly into my throat, and my stomach receives it with warmth that spreads through my belly and the warmth is nourishment, my body recognizing the caloric density and responding with satisfaction that curls my toes. (sperm:"splurt, splurt.",2,"splurt 1 internal")Snib is panting. His hand grips my hair, using my scalp for leverage, hips bucking, small desperate thrusts driving the head against the back of my tongue, each buck ejecting another weak pulse, the dregs, thinner but still hot, still thick. "DRINK IT. DRINK IT ALL, COW. THAT'S YER BREAKFAST." *GLUK.* *GLUK.* *GLUK.* (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/breakfast.png","The last swallow is hardest.") The last swallow is hardest. Clotted residue clings to the back of my tongue, demanding a scrape that makes me gag. Fresh taste floods my sinuses. I swallow the gag too. Everything goes down, and my stomach is full. A warm, heavy meal settles in my belly while my body sings with the satisfaction of a creature that has been FED. I pull off. The head pops free with a wet *schlop* and a string of mixed saliva and cum stretches from my lower lip to his slit, thinning, catching firelight, snapping, recoiling onto my chin. His cock lies across his thigh again. Softening. Foreskin sliding back in slow increments. Warts going rubbery. The whole apparatus settling into sleep, spent, emptied. His balls hang loose. Light. Slack where ten minutes ago they were taut and churning. I know how heavy they were. I know where the weight went. "Good breakfast?" Snib says. I don't answer. The taste sits in my mouth. It's in my teeth. My breath smells like it. When I breathe through my nose I taste it. When I swallow I taste it. When I lick my lips I taste it. A sensation starts at my scalp and runs down my neck, across my shoulders, down my spine, a full-body shiver, and my nipples are hard, and my cunt is still dripping small wet pulses onto the dirt, and my body is absorbing, processing, the goblin seed hitting my bloodstream and going everywhere. And the hunger is gone.(simple_option:"05 later 2","Later...")

($play:"ambience","desert wind")($play:"song","goblin ending")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/3.png")($play:"sex loop",0)I'm on my hands and knees in the dirt and I'm making sounds I can't stop. "*Hhhnn... hhhnn... hhhnn...*" A low continuous mewling that comes from somewhere behind my navel and vibrates up through my chest and out my open mouth, and my hips are rolling in small desperate circles, grinding air, my ass swaying side to side like a flag signaling surrender, and my tits hang heavy beneath me, swaying with each roll, nipples dragging lines through the dirt. Snib sits on his furs, legs spread, cock already hard and drooling against his belly, watching me with those yellow eyes that never blink enough. "Show me yer cunt." I reach back with one hand. My fingers find the fat outer lips, swollen and hot and slick, and I pull them apart. Spread myself open for him. The wet sound is obscene, *ssshhhlk*, and I feel the cool air hit the exposed pink inside, feel my own opening's hungry contraction that makes me whimper louder. "That's where Snibby's pups are gonna come out," he says. My cunt clenches hard enough that I feel it in my teeth. "*Hhhnnngh...*" "Say it." (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/spread.png","'That's where your pups are going to come out.'") "That's where your pups are going to come out." "Say it like ye MEAN it." Something in my chest cracks open and the words pour out: (playwhenread:"thats where your pups are gonna")"That's where your pups are gonna come out, that's my breeding hole, that's where you're gonna put your goblin babies and I'm gonna CARRY them, I'm gonna swell up fat with your litter and feed them with these..." I shake my tits, making them swing and clap together, "...these fat udders you gave me, I'm gonna be your brood-mare, your pup-factory, your..." "Ye want it?" "YES." "Beg." Any hesitation is gone. Burned out of me by days of breeding and feeding and cum-drunk sleep. (playwhenread:"please master let me have your cock")"Please, Master, please let me have your cock, please let me have your fat goblin breeding log, I need it, I NEED it, my cunt is empty and it HURTS, it aches, I can feel my womb pulling, begging, my whole body is screaming for you to fill me up and breed me and make me yours FOREVER!" "Yer wife..." "I DON'T CARE ABOUT HER!" The words rip out of me like something tearing. "I don't care about my wife, I don't care about Eboncrest, I don't care about being a hero, I don't care about ANYTHING except your fat goblin cock, that's all I need, that's ALL I NEED, please, PLEASE, breed me, breed your cow, make me forget her name, make me forget EVERYTHING except how you feel inside me!" Snib is grinning so wide his face might split. "Well," he says, standing up, his cock bobbing with the motion, precum stringing from the slit to his belly. "Since ye asked so nice." He pounces.(simple_option:"05 later 2 answered","He answers.")

($play:"ambience","desert wind")($play:"song","goblin ending")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/pleasure/1.png")($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.24),(a:120,0.88),(a:420,0.66),(a:800,0.46),(a:1300,0.28),(a:1800,0.16))))His full weight lands on my back and his cock rams into me in one stroke, twelve inches of warted green breeding-meat punching through my spread lips and bottoming out against my womb, and the stretch is immediate and total and PERFECT, and I scream: "*AAAAAAHHHHHH...*" "THAT'S the sound!" Snib crows, already hammering,(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.70,"peakTo",0.84,"baseFrom",0.07,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",380,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",38,"releaseMs",62,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.09,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.07)) his pot-belly slapping my spine, his claws digging into my hips. "That's the sound Snibby LIKES!" *SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP-SPLAP...* He ruts me at once, hard and animal. His whole body drives into mine, balls swinging up to spank my clit on every stroke, *whop-whop-whop*. My tits fly beneath me and clap together, *plap-plap-plap*, while my ass ripples in continuous waves. Drool hits the dirt. My eyes cross, my tongue hangs out, and I'm CUMMING already,(playwhenread:"elise doggy orgasm") the first orgasm ripping through me like a blade. "*CUMMING! I'M CUMMING ON YOUR COCK! I'M CUMMING ON YOUR FAT GOBLIN COCK!*" *PSSSSHHHHH...* My squirt hoses out around his pounding shaft, soaking his balls, spraying the dirt, and he doesn't slow down, he fucks straight through it, and the orgasm doesn't end,(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.60,"amplitude",0.20,"periodMs",700,"forever",true)) it just keeps going, rolling into the next one, and I'm screaming: "*FUCK ME! FUCK YOUR COW! FUCK YOUR BREEDING SOW! MAKE ME FORGET HER! MAKE ME FORGET EVERYTHING!*" "Ye already forgot!" Snib laughs, yanking my hair back, arching my spine, his cock hitting a new angle that makes my vision white out. "Ye forgot the moment ye pushed back! Ye forgot the moment ye LET Snibby in!" "*YES! YES I DID! I LET YOU IN! I WANTED IT! I WANTED YOUR COCK MORE THAN I WANTED MY WIFE!*" The words are acid in my mouth and honey in my cunt and I cum again, harder, my whole body seizing, my tits mashing into the dirt, my ass clenching so hard I feel his cock bend slightly, and he's LAUGHING, cackling, hammering through my convulsions: "Say it again! Say what ye are!" "I'M YOUR COW! I'M YOUR FAT UDDERED BREEDING COW! I'M YOUR CUM-COW, YOUR PUP-MAKER, YOUR-" "Yer Snibby's WIFE now! Say it!" "I'M YOUR WIFE! I'M SNIBBY'S WIFE! NOT ELARA'S, YOURS, ONLY YOURS, FOREVER..." (sperm:"BLORRRP.",5,"splurt 3 internal")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.46),(a:180,0.92),(a:700,0.50),(a:2100,0.88),(a:2750,0.46),(a:4400,0.84),(a:5100,0.42),(a:7000,0.78),(a:7750,0.37),(a:9800,0.68),(a:10600,0.30),(a:12800,0.48),(a:14000,0))))He cums. I feel it start, the shaft thickening, the warts engorging, the head bloating against my womb, and then the first blast, scalding, pressurized, a HOSE of goblin seed spraying directly into my womb, and I scream: "*BREED ME! BREED YOUR WIFE! FILL ME UP WITH YOUR PUPS!*" (sperm:"GLORRRP-GLORRRP-GLORRRP...",6,"splurt 4 internal")Rope after rope, thick and burning hot, each one a weight landing in my belly, and my cunt is milking him, *schlk-schlk-schlk*, pulling every drop deeper, and my womb is drinking, *GLUK-GLUK-GLUK*, swallowing his seed like it's starving, and the fullness is ecstasy, the fullness is completion, the fullness is EVERYTHING! "*HRRRK... TAKE IT... HRRRK... TAKE SNIBBY'S PUPS...*" "*YES! GIVE THEM TO ME! GIVE ME YOUR PUPS! I WANT THEM! I WANT YOUR GOBLIN BABIES!*" (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/another creampie.png","'*YES! GIVE THEM TO ME! GIVE ME YOUR PUPS! I WANT THEM! I WANT YOUR GOBLIN BABIES!*'") The last surge is a clot, nearly solid, and I feel it exit his slit and lodge in my womb and STAY, and my cunt closes around it, sealing it in, and Snib collapses on my back, panting, his weight pressing me into the dirt, and we're both shaking, both gasping, both wrecked. Then he pulls out.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.60),(a:450,0.54),(a:1100,0.46),(a:2000,0.36),(a:3200,0.24),(a:4500,0.12),(a:5600,0)))) His cock slides free with a long wet *SHLLLUCK* and the head pops past my rim with a *GLORP* and immediately the cum starts leaking. (sperm:"PLOP... PLOP...",3,"splurt 5")I feel it. Thick. Heavy. Oozing out of my gaping cunt in slow ropes that stretch and snap and splatter the dirt, and there's so much, so MUCH, a river of yellowy-white goblin seed pouring out of me, and my cunt is still trying to hold it in, but there's too much, and it runs down my thighs in thick streams, and I'm sobbing. From pleasure. From the overwhelming, devastating, soul-crushing PLEASURE of being bred, of being filled, of being COMPLETED, and the anguish of knowing what I said, what I meant, what I can't take back. "I don't care about Elara," I whisper into the dirt, and the words are still true, and that's the worst part. Snib pats my ass. *WHAP.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.34,"pulseMs",105,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Good cow," he says, and waddles back to his furs, leaving me kneeling in the puddle we made. The cum keeps leaking. I keep sobbing. Amid the pleasure, anguish, and thick heat between my thighs, a smile spreads across my face.(change_stat:"heroism",-6)(simple_option:"05 pups","The days are a blur...")

($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","goblin ending")(pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/pregnant pov.png","The pups wake before I do.") (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)The pups wake before I do. They're brawling. Three goblin pups fighting for territory in my womb, and the violence of it jolts me awake, a sharp elbow slamming into my ribs hard enough to make me gasp, and my hand flies to my belly and I feel the bulge travel, a hard knot moving under the skin, shifting left, and another one answers from below, a headbutt against my bladder that makes me wince. One under the ribs. The kicker. Always the kicker. One on the left. The biter. I can feel teeth sometimes, little points of pressure that come and go. One low. The head-butter. Ramming my cervix like it's trying to get out early. They're VICIOUS. Goblin pups. They don't sleep much, they FIGHT, and my belly is their battlefield, and I lie here in the dark feeling them brawl and my hand stays on the tight-stretched skin and I count them. One. Two. Three. Still moving. Still fighting. Still alive. The relief that floods through me is warm and maternal and horrible. My tits ache. They're heavier than yesterday, the skin pulled tight around the nipples. When I shift, the straw squelches beneath me. I've leaked another wide patch, thick and yellowish and sweet-smelling enough to turn my stomach and water my mouth. I struggle upright. The belly makes everything harder. I barely see my feet. I can't bend at the waist. I have to roll to my side and push up with my arms and the pups protest the movement, kicking and squirming, and I waddle to the fire and start banking the coals for Snib's breakfast. The hut doesn't fit me anymore. I turn sideways through the door flap. My belly nudges the water jug off its shelf and I catch it before it falls, barely, and the motion makes the kicker slam my ribs again and I hiss through my teeth. "Easy," I whisper to my belly. "Easy, little one." I do Snib's laundry. Scrubbing his filthy loincloths in the bucket, my tits hanging heavy and leaking, droplets of milk falling into the water and clouding it, and my cunt is wet, always wet now. I used to mark the days on the wall. Little scratches. One for each morning. I look at the wall now and I can't remember if I marked yesterday. I can't remember if I marked the day before. The scratches blur together and I don't know which one is today and I don't... I count the pups instead. One. Two. Three. Still moving. I finish the laundry and lie down on the straw, exhausted, my belly a heavy dome rising off me, and I look at it with something that feels like pride, and the skin ripples as the pups shift, and I watch the bulges travel and I smile. Snib waddles over, scratching his sack, and looks down at me. "Snibby's gotta drain his balls," he says. I perk up. My nipples harden, milk beading at the tips, and I roll onto my side and lift my leg and spread myself for him, and the pups kick harder, excited, and I moan: "Yes, Master. Drain them in me."(change_stat:"heroism",-10)(simple_option:"05 get fucked","Get fucked.")

(pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/preg fuck.png") ($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","foreboding")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 1")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.52,"peakTo",0.62,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",1000,"intervalTo",900,"attackMs",90,"sustainMs",105,"releaseMs",175,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.03,"intervalJitter",0.05,"depthJitter",0.03))*Shlop. Shlop. Shlop.* My belly rests on the straw, heavy and full, and the pups kick in time with his strokes, the kicker slamming my ribs on every downstroke, and my tits leak in slow fat beads that the motion shakes loose, *spit, spit*, spotting the straw dark under my chest, and my cunt answers each thrust with a wet clench, *schlk, schlk*, nursing at him without being asked. "That's it. That's good cow." His voice is sleepy and satisfied. "Take it nice an' deep fer Master." "Yes, Master." The words come out soft and automatic and my hips push back to meet him. "I love milking my Master's fat cock." "Good cow." *Shlop. Shlop.* I'm warm. I'm full. The morning sun is coming through the flap and my belly is tight and heavy and everything is exactly where it belongs. The flap moves. Cold air slides across my back and my first thought is that the cold will upset the pups. Light floods in. Pale desert light. And there are shapes in it. I blink. My eyes are slow. Everything is slow except Snib's cock, which keeps its rhythm even as his body goes tight behind me, his claws digging in harder. *Shlop... shlop...* (hidden_gem:"There are people. Many people. Humans. Standing in the doorway with the light behind them so I can only see their shapes, dark against the brightness, and one of them is making a sound, a thin broken sound like something stepped on, and the sound does something behind my sternum that I don't have a name for.","Several silhouettes stand against the searing doorway, strangers shaped like soldiers, and one sobs a small, stepped-on sound that stirs something sealed behind my sternum.") "Get out," Snib squeaks, but his voice is small and he's pressing himself flat against my thigh, hiding behind me, using me as a wall between himself and the light, and his cock is still inside me, still pumping, little nervous strokes now, quick and shallow.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.35,"peakTo",0.48,"baseFrom",0.06,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",360,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",26,"sustainMs",32,"releaseMs",54,"rampBeats",6,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.18,"depthJitter",0.08)) "Master..." I start, and then one of the shapes steps forward and the light catches her hair and it's copper. Copper like autumn. Copper like fire. Something behind my ribs flutters. My eyes water, but I don't know why. (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/elara sees.png","left","They're all looking at me. Why? I'm just doing my duties as Snib's wife!")"Aldric," the copper-haired shape says, and the word comes out cracked and wet, and it's my name, I know it's my name, but it sounds like it's coming from very far away, or from the bottom of a well. A man in a captain's cloak. Six or seven spears. An old soldier whose face tugs at something deep and foggy, something about swords and pie and being polite. A robed man holding something that glints. They're all looking at me. Why? I'm just doing my duties as Snib's wife! I'm on my side on the straw, leg hoisted on Snib's arm, belly swollen and tight and rippling with the pups, tits leaking in steady beads, cunt stretched around a goblin's cock, and they're looking at me. *Shlop. Shlop.* "Oh gods," the old soldier says, and I don't understand why because I feel fine, I feel good, I feel warm and full and... The copper-haired woman throws something. Bags. They hit the dirt and burst and coins spill everywhere, rolling, spinning, flashing in the firelight, and I think, automatically, *I just cleaned.* "TAKE IT!" She's screaming now, her voice shredding, her face wet and red and twisted. "TAKE IT, YOU... TAKE IT AND LET. HER. GO!" Snib's claws tighten on my hip. His cock gives a nervous throb inside me. "Snibby..." I start, meaning to tell him about the mess on the floor, but he's whispering in my ear, his voice shaking: "Ye want him to take it? Ye want the bargain done? Ye want free?"(simple_option:"05 rescue answer","Answer him.")

($play:"sex loop","goblin womb fucking 2")($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","foreboding")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/pleasure/3.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.52,"peakTo",0.62,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",1000,"intervalTo",900,"attackMs",90,"sustainMs",105,"releaseMs",175,"rampBeats",6,"intensityJitter",0.03,"intervalJitter",0.05,"depthJitter",0.03))Free. The word has lost its meaning. What freedom waits beyond the warm hut, the pups, Master's cock? "No," I say, and I'm confused, and my hips are still moving, still pushing back into his thrusts, and the word comes out wrapped in a moan: "*Nooo... why would I... the pups... Master needs... mmmhhh...*" The woman makes the bird-hitting-window sound again. The captain's jaw tightens. The old soldier takes a step forward. "Aldric," he says, and his voice is steady and terrible. "It's Harwick. You taught my girl to hold a blade. You ate my wife's pies and you were polite about it." The words slide off me. I don't know what pies he's talking about. I don't know what blades he's talking about. I know Master's cock is throbbing and the pups are kicking and my tits are leaking and I want him to keep going. "Please," I say to Snib. "Please don't stop, Master. Please keep fucking me. I'm so close." "*Hurr hurr,*" Snib giggles, nervous and triumphant at once, his cock never stopping, his hips pressing harder. "Ye hear that? Ye hear what she wants?" The robed man steps forward and uncorks a vial. The smell hits me. The smell hits my body first. The pups go BERSERK, kicking and biting and thrashing, my whole belly rippling with violence, and I scream: "GET IT AWAY FROM THEM!" The robed man freezes. His eyes move over me, over my belly, over the collar, and his face does something slow and terrible. "The pregnancy and the collar are one system now," he says quietly. "The Moonshade would kill the pups, and possibly her." "DO IT ANYWAY!" the woman screams, and she's on her knees now, reaching toward me, coins scattered all around her. "DO IT, FENDRIL, THIS IS OUR ONLY..." "I won't gamble hi- her life," the wizard says. (hidden_gem:"The hope in the room dies.","Hope hemorrhages from the hut, hollowing every heart it leaves behind.") And through it all, Snib's cock keeps pumping. *Shlop. Shlop. Shlop.* Slow and deep and stupid and perfect, and my cunt clenches around him, grateful, hungry, and my tits leak, and the pups kick, and I moan. The old soldier steps forward. His hand is on his sword hilt. "Aldric," he says one more time. "Come home." And for one heartbeat, the haze parts. I see the gold. The spears. The woman's face. I see it all, clear and cold and terrible. Snib shrieks: "USE YER MAGIC! SIC 'EM, COW!" The power floods back. Fire to cleanse. Ice to trap. Wind to rule the field. "THEY WANT TA KILL YER BABIES!"(minigame:"05 decision",12,"Do not kill them.")

($play:"ambience","desert morning")($play:"song","foreboding")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.52,"peakTo",0.62,"baseFrom",0.16,"baseTo",0.12,"intervalFrom",1000,"intervalTo",900,"attackMs",90,"sustainMs",105,"releaseMs",175,"rampBeats",6,"intensityJitter",0.03,"intervalJitter",0.05,"depthJitter",0.03))(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png")The power and rage pool behind my pubic bone, hot and gathering, and I can't tell if I'm about to cum or cast, and my hand rises and my hips are still rolling and my tits are spraying in little arcs. I reach for wind. A simple gust. Just push them back. But the maternal rage is a riptide and the haze is fog and the pups are screaming inside me and the spell and the orgasm crest at the same moment... <span class='fire'>"IGNISURGE!"</span> (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/ignisurge.jpg") The word rips out of me and the fire ERUPTS from my palm, a column of white-hot flame that fills the hut with light and heat and the smell of burning, and it hits the old soldier dead center, and he doesn't even have his sword raised, he's just standing there with his hand out, saying my name, and the fire takes him. (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")And I cum.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",12,"peakFrom",0.94,"peakTo",0.16,"gapFrom",300,"gapTo",720,"attackMs",44,"holdMs",105,"releaseMs",130,"gapIntensity",0.04,"peakCurve","swell","aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.13,"aftershockGap",1050,"resumeAfter",15500)) The orgasm and the spell leave me in the same spasm, my cunt clamping down on Snib's cock in a seizure that makes him howl, my squirt hosing out around his shaft in a pressurized spray that soaks his balls and drums the dirt, *PSSSSHHHH*, and my whole body is shaking and my tits are spraying milk in fine arcs and the pups are kicking and I'm screaming: "MY BABIES! DON'T TOUCH MY BABIES!" The soldiers shout. The woman screams. The captain grabs her. "NO!" The captain's voice cracks. "Stand down! She's lost her mind! She'll kill us all! Stand DOWN!" The old soldier is on the ground when the fire dies, not moving. And through it all, Snib's cock is still inside me, still pumping, and he's LAUGHING, cackling with terror and triumph: "HURR HURR HURR! The Hero of Eboncrest just burned one of her own! Burned him! Fer Snibby! Fer her goblin Master! Fer her PUPS!" The wizard is staring at me, his face pale. "Her power is amplified," he says quietly. "The pregnancy, the maternal instinct, the pheromones... she's stronger than she's ever been. We have to go. NOW." "NO!" The woman is fighting the captain, clawing at him. "NO, I WON'T LEAVE HER! ALDRIC! ALDRIC, PLEASE!" The captain drags her toward the door. She's screaming the name that used to be mine. "Through shadow and flame!" She's sobbing, clawing at the doorframe. "Until the stars go dark! You promised!" My chest hurts. My eyes are burning. I'm crying and I don't know why. "Elise," she says, and the name is wrong and right at the same time. "Elise, please. Please come home." "Leave," I hear myself say. "Please. Just... leave." The captain pulls her out. The flap falls closed. The light dies. "Good cow," Snib whispers, and his cock throbs, and my cunt clenches around him, and the rhythm resumes. *Shlop. Shlop. Shlop.* The gold lies in the dirt, glittering in the firelight, three feet from the door. I leave it there. My hand finds the tight-stretched skin of my belly, soothing the pups until they calm. I smile through my tears.(change_stat:"heroism",-5)](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")The pups scream. It's a vibration in my womb that feels like tiny claws raking my insides, and my whole body goes WHITE with protective fury. My magical power is tangled up with the orgasm building in my pelvis, the maternal rage, the milk, the cum, the HEAT, and my hand rises and my hips are still rolling and I can't tell if I'm about to cum or cast and neither can anyone else... The old soldier steps forward. Sword lowered. Saying my name. "Aldric. Come home." And for one heartbeat, the haze parts. I see him. Fifteen years at the west gate. And I see what I'm about to do. And I can't stop it. The spell rips out of me and I try to shape it, try to make it wind, just wind, just push them back, but the pups are screaming and Snib is screaming and my body is screaming and the power is coming through the same nerves as the pleasure and... (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/ventusfury.png") <span class='wind'>"VENTUSFURY!"</span> The word tears my throat and the wind ERUPTS from my palm, a cyclone of sand and force that fills the hut with screaming air, and it hits the old soldier and tears his sword from his hand and knocks him backward through the flap, and it hits the others and scatters them like leaves, and the coins go flying, spinning, flashing, and the woman is screaming and the captain is grabbing her and pulling her back... (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")And I'm cumming.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",12,"peakFrom",0.94,"peakTo",0.16,"gapFrom",300,"gapTo",720,"attackMs",44,"holdMs",105,"releaseMs",130,"gapIntensity",0.04,"peakCurve","swell","aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.13,"aftershockGap",1050,"resumeAfter",15500)) *PSSSSHHHHH.* My squirt hoses out around Snib's cock, soaking his balls, spraying the straw, and my whole body is convulsing, my cunt milking him in violent spasms, my tits spraying milk in steady arcs, and the wind is still howling, tearing at the hut walls, and I'm sobbing, I'm sobbing and cumming and the wind is mine and the pleasure is mine and the horror is mine... The old soldier is on his back in the sand. His sword is ten feet away. He's alive. The captain is staring at me. His eyes move from my hand to the soldier to my belly and back to my hand, and I see him understand: I could have killed him. But I didn't. The robed man's face goes white. "Her power is amplified," he says, and his voice is shaking. "The pregnancy, the maternal instinct, the pheromones... she's stronger than she's ever been. That was a controlled cast, but if the goblin orders again..." He doesn't finish. The woman breaks free and lunges toward me, her copper hair wild, her face streaming: "ALDRIC! ALDRIC, PLEASE! Through shadow and flame! Until the stars go dark! You promised!" The words hit me like stones and my chest cracks open and I'm sobbing, hot confused tears, and my cunt is still fluttering around Snib's cock, and my tits are still leaking, and the pups are still kicking, and I don't know why any of it is happening... "Elise," she says, and the name is wrong and right at the same time. "Elise, please. Please come home." Snib's claws dig into my hip. His cock throbs. His voice is shaking with terror and triumph: "Tell her ta leave, cow. Tell her or Snibby makes ye burn her next." I look at the face that used to mean something. The pups kick. My hand finds my belly. The movement soothes me. "Leave," I say, and my voice is thick and wet and broken. "Please. Just... leave." The captain pulls her out. She's fighting him, screaming, clawing at the doorframe. "Elise! ELISE!" The flap falls closed. The light dies. And Snib's cock is still inside me, and the pups are still kicking, and I ask him: "Why am I crying?" Snib pats my belly. His voice is shaky, gloating, relieved: "'Cause yer a good cow. The best cow. Now milk Snibby dry. Ye earned it." My hips answer before my mind does. *Shlop. Shlop. Shlop.*(change_stat:"heroism",2)](simple_option:"05 bad end hearth","After they leave...")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","goblin ending")($play:"sex loop","goblin wild internal cumshot")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.48,"peakTo",0.58,"baseFrom",0.14,"baseTo",0.10,"intervalFrom",800,"intervalTo",700,"attackMs",80,"sustainMs",95,"releaseMs",160,"rampBeats",6,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.06,"depthJitter",0.04))Snib says something small. "Good cow." That's all. A pat on the head for a job well done. And I start moving. I don't wait for him to ask. I don't wait for permission. I just... lift myself, turn, straddle his little green body, and sink down onto his cock with a wet *SHLORP* that makes my eyes roll back and my mouth fall open. "*Aaaaahhn...*" *PLOP.* My tits hit my belly on the downstroke. *PLOP.* Again. *PLOP-PLOP-PLOP.* The drum. My tits are so heavy these days, so FULL, that they rest on the swollen dome of my belly, and when I bounce they lift and slap down like drumsticks on a drum, and the sound is obscene and rhythmic and I can't stop making it. "Do it again," Snib mumbles, eyes closed. *PLOP-PLOP-PLOP.* My cunt is gripping him. *Schlk-schlk-schlk.* Nursing at his shaft in long slow pulls, milking him, and my hips are rolling in circles and my ass is clapping his hips on every downstroke, *SHLORP-SHLAP, SHLORP-SHLAP*. Three little fists slam my ribs in time with my riding, *thump-thump-thump*, and the kicker is going wild, slamming hard enough to make me gasp, and the biter is doing something with his teeth that makes my whole belly ripple. *Good pups. Strong pups. My pups.* The pressure builds in my chest. A pins-and-needles rush across both tits, a tingling that starts at the nipples and spreads inward, and I know what's coming, I know what my body is about to do, and I don't stop it, I lean INTO it, I squeeze my own tits and... My squirt hoses out around his cock, soaking his hips, spraying the furs, and my tits OPEN. *SPLURCH-SPLURCH.* White. Thick. Yellowish in the firelight. Arcs of milk firing from both nipples at once, pressurized streams that catch the light and splatter Snib's face and chest and the wall behind him, and he's LAUGHING, mouth open, catching a stream on his tongue, and the milk tastes... I catch a drop on my lip. It's *good.* It's thick and sweet and nourishing and my pups will grow strong on this and I'm a good cow and I made this and... *I'm a production unit.* The thought arrives with the next spray. *SPLURCH.* My tits are hosing the hut. The walls are streaked. The coals hiss where the milk hits. And I'm milking myself, squeezing my own tits like I'm milking a cow, forcing more out, and the self-milking feeds the orgasm and the orgasm feeds the milk... *Who was the red-haired woman?* The thought rises unbidden. A face. A name. I reach for it. And the reaching converts directly into orgasm. *PSSSSHHHHH.* *SPLURCH-SPLURCH-SPLURCH.* The name dissolves into the cum. I feel it burning away in the pleasure, and the orgasm is bigger than any before it because there's more of me left to burn than I thought. I cum the name away, I cum the face away, I cum the memory away, and when it's over there's just a wet warm place where the wound used to be. Nothing hurts. Not even the idea of hurting. "I'm a good cow," I moan, bouncing harder, my tits drumming my belly, *PLOP-PLOP-PLOP*, my milk hosing in twin arcs that paint the walls. "Snibby's best cow. Snibby's FULL cow. Snibby's-" *PSSSSHHHHH.* *SPLURCH-SPLURCH.* "—stupid lucky FULL cow—" *PLOP-PLOP-PLOP.* *SHLORP-SHLAP-SHLORP-SHLAP.* *thump-thump-thump.* "I never want to go back to humie-town," I say, and my voice is casual, like I can't imagine anyone would want anything else. "There's no cock there. There's no Master." *PSSSSHHHHH.* "—no PUPS there—" *SPLURCH-SPLURCH.* Snib snorts. "Course ye don't." And that's the whole eulogy for my old life. I cum again. *PSSSSHHHHH.* *SPLURCH-SPLURCH-SPLURCH.* *PLOP-PLOP-PLOP.* (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/gameover notext.png") The hut is painted. The walls are streaked with milk. The straw is soaked. Snib is dripping. My belly is slick with it, running down in sheets, pooling in the hollows, and the pups are rioting, *thump-thump-thump*, three little warriors celebrating the spray. My face is open and stupid... and beautiful. Probably. *Stupid cow.* *Stupid lucky cow.*(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",15,"peakFrom",1.0,"peakTo",0.12,"gapFrom",250,"gapTo",600,"attackMs",40,"holdMs",120,"releaseMs",140,"gapIntensity",0.03,"peakCurve","swell","aftershocks",5,"aftershockIntensity",0.15,"aftershockGap",900,"resumeAfter",20000))(change_stat:"heroism",-1)(set:$bad_end to (dm:"title","Housebroken"))(display:"unlock bad end")(gameover:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/game over.jpg")

(set:$map to "img/maps/map 3.jpg")(masteraudio:"stopall")(chapter_title:5,"The Dungeon")($play:"ambience","desert wind")(set:$map to "img/maps/map 3.jpg") (masteraudio:"stopall")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/concentrated/1.png")(pic:"ch05/ancient one.jpg")($play:"song","obelisk")(playwhenread:"desert horse") "No. Absolutely not." (hidden_gem:"Half a league off, where the dunes settle into a long pale trough and the heat-shimmer makes the horizon walk, a shape that is not a dune lifts from the sand. The brow comes first, then a cheekbone the length of a market square, then the open mouth turned up at the sky with sand pouring slow from the corner of the lip.","Beyond a blister-white belt of bleached dunes, a buried brow breaks the burning sand, followed by a basilica-broad cheekbone and a black, beckoning mouth bleeding slow streams from its broken lip.") The chin is half a furlong wide and buried to the throat. I have never seen this particular stone head in my life, and yet I know it the way a soldier knows an enemy banner. *Mouths that were built to be mouths.* (pic:"ch05/01_snibride.jpg") "Oh-ho-ho." Snib's breath fits between my shoulder-blades, sleep-spit and sour-milk rolling up the bare strip of my spine. "Oh-ho-*ho*, (nickname:). Lookit *that*." He bounces. Three feet eight inches of grinning goblin on Jarkrond's bare back behind me, his belly-shelf pressing wet into the small of my back, the bounce travelling the whole length of him and landing as a heavy thud at the base of my spine. I have felt the print of his cock-head through the metal of the drakeslip since the second mile, and the print has been damp since the third. (pic:"ch05/felt the print of his cock-head.png") Jarkrond's hot withers grind raw between my thighs. The voidscale-cut sits a thumb under my hip-bones, eats up to the crease at the back, bites the meat of my upper thighs into two pale rolls where the scale ends. The leg-cuts have sawn a pink line where bare jiggle begins. My inner thighs are slick with horse-sweat and my own sweat and a brackish heat the metal will not vent. I clench my calves inside the thigh-high boots and squeeze the brute under me with the steel of the cuffs. *Quiet, you.* (set:$map to "img/maps/map 3.jpg")(set:$map_position to (a: 3508, 4155))(map: (a: 2370, 3283), (a: 2617, 3568), (a: 2977, 3871), (a: 3167, 3757), (a: 3262, 3928), (a: 3451, 4136)) "Snib. Listen to me. *Look* at what you're looking at." "I *am* lookin', (nickname:)." His chin hooks over my bare shoulder and his nose finds the damp at my throat where the collar has trapped the morning. He breathes in long. He hums out, and the hum vibrates into the strip of meat between collar and clavicle that the auburn flush has been climbing since dawn. "I'm lookin' an' lookin'. Big ol' stone face out in the sand. Mouth wide open, sayin' *come on in, Master Snib*, ain't 'e. Take my gold! *Hrukhrukhruk.*" "That is not a stone face." "Sure it is." "Snib. That is *K'tarran*."(simple_option:"05 dungeon entrance warning","Make him listen.")

(hidden_gem:"The word lands nowhere. He has never heard it. The collar, despite seeming to come from the same age as such a ruin, apparently has declined to enlighten him about ancient horrors.","The warning withers without witness. Whatever wicked wisdom wakes within the collar will not waste one whisper warning him away.") My master's hand, knobbled at every knuckle, settles on my right hip-bone where the side-knot of my latest humiliation bites my skin. The other is already on the bare cheek where the leg-cut bares it, and I notice it the way you notice a fly that has been on you for a minute. He scoops the meat of me up under the bare cheek, hauls half an inch of me off Jarkrond's hot withers, lets gravity drop me back.(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 1") Both tits leap clean of the triangles on the bounce, hang full and bare and pink-tipped in the desert sun for one slow stupid count, then come crashing home against my own ribs hard enough that my teeth click together. The chain whips up to clip me under the jaw, slithers cool back into the cleft between them, jingling all the way down. The left one settles late on its own clock, wobbling once and then again before it sinks back pink and sweat-slick into the scale. "Hnh!" I gasp, the sound leaking through my nose. I fight the reaction. Fight the urge to encourage him. But this body *wants* me to react. *Wants* me to encourage. Snib hums approval into my hair. "Listen. *Please.*" I wet my mouth. "We turn the horse around now. There is no treasure in there for you that you will live to spend." "*Hero.*" He tries the word out, says it again into the soft place behind my ear. "*Hero.* Tellin' Master Snib his business." "We can continue riding. There is a coast-road south. Vresht caravans. Highwaymen camped along the road with stores you could not spend in a year. Or... a sand-drake warren. I can clear a warren in an afternoon, Snib. With my magic. The eggs are forty gold apiece in Eboncrest. Six hundred gold in one ride. *Real* coin, not whatever rotten singing thing is sleeping under that hill." He giggles and the slow seated weight at the base of my spine makes a fresh cock-kiss through the cloth, and then another. "Please." A word I have started repeating without intending to. "Anything in the world but this." *I don't want to die here.*(simple_option:"05 argument in the saddle","Try to scare him.","Beg.","Tell him K'tarran tombs are always picked clean. (Lie)","Say nothing else.")

(playwhenread:"desert horse")(pic:"ch05/01_no.jpg","right")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png")(if:$choice is "Try to scare him.")["You *will* die in there." I say it flat. "You will die *badly*. The collar will not let me outlive you, Snib. We will rot in the dark together. Do you understand me? I am telling you this in self-preservation." Behind me the goblin goes still for one whole stride of his desert horse, and then he laughs into the soft place under my ear. The cloth-print at the base of my spine fattens. A fresh wet ring opens on top of the old one. *Sheol take him, he likes it.* *WHAP!*(playwhenread:"spank 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.48,"pulseMs",120,"count",1,"rest",0)) The slap lands flat across the bare half-moon of my left cheek loud enough Jarkrond's ears flick back. The shock rolls up the whole left side of me into the front. Both tits jump hard inside their too-small triangles, strain pale crescents of meat over the top hems and out the sides, nipples dragging dark and stiff inside the scale where the flesh tries to escape and can't. The chain snaps taut between them, hisses bright, slackens, settles ringing low against my breastbone. My right one keeps shaking on sympathy alone, two slow heavy wobbles, full and pink at the underside before it sinks back. "Hk!" I set my teeth, holding back the groan. "*Rot together, hm.*" His hand stays where it landed, kneading the heat his palm made into the cheek, the lump at the base of his thumb working a slow circle. "*HrukHRUKhruk.* Threaten me again, deary! Lookit the way it makes 'im stand up." He rolls his hips forward against my spine so I will feel exactly what he means, and what he means presses bigger and thicker through the cloth. "Keep yappin' like that," he says, fond, "an' I switch them little doxyscales off ye an' put the wires back on. *Hehehe.* One word, an' the metal knows." My face goes hot. Snib can change my outfit by will alone. He considers this modest. I would do well not to anger him. My thighs lock against Jarkrond's flanks, the calves inside the boot-steel going rigid, and the drakeslip at my hip-bones has never felt so generous. I do not speak.(change_stat:"heroism",1)(change_stat:"snib",-1)](else-if:$choice is "Beg.")["Please, Snib. *Please.* I beg you. I will do anything you ask of me today. Anything. Only turn the horse. Please. *Please.*" The goblin sighs long against the side of my throat where the collar has trapped the heat. A long thread of wet leaves the cloth-print at my spine and starts down the back waistband of the drakeslip in one slow warm crawl. Two thick fingers slip into the side-knot at my right hip and settle there, owning the inch of compressed fat under it where the metal has bitten a crease. His other palm cups the bare swell of my right cheek and lifts the meat of me an inch off Jarkrond's withers before letting it fall.(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 2") The chain hisses across one nipple on the way home. *Hh.* I catch the sound behind my teeth. I do not catch the bounce. The left breast pours forward, arrives late, settles with the chain ringing it back to centre. "*Puh-lease,*" he repeats, savouring. "*Please.* Hear that, Jarky boy. (nickname:"uppercase") said *please*. Twice, the love. *Whoooo.*" The fingers in the seam of my shorts give a single downward tug and the waistband drops a quarter-inch on the right, a pale half-finger of butt-meat showing itself to the desert. "Beg better, deary, an' I might *consider*. Mean it with yer mouth like ye mean it with yer arse. *Hrukhrukhruk.* Or shall Master switch them slops back to the wires? Want 'em again, do we?" The fingers in the knot tighten by a hair and the memory of that horrid first outfit comes through every seam of the voidscale at once: the cord between, the metal floss riding me at every step, the seam of my labia worn raw by noon. My thighs clamp on Jarkrond's flanks. The boots squeeze. My breath stops. "No, Master." The word comes out smaller than I meant.(change_stat:"snib",1)(change_stat:"heroism",-2)](else-if:$choice is "Tell him K'tarran tombs are always picked clean. (Lie)")["You will find nothing." I gather the captain's voice and lay it over the lie like a sheet over a corpse. "K'tarran ruins have been picked over for three thousand years. The Suthar excavated this sand-belt in the Second Concord. The Brassrun came through after them. Whatever was in there is in a private collection in Vresht-Karran. We are riding a day west for a dry hole." The cock-print at the small of my back stops moving. The slow weight that had been keeping time with Jarkrond's stride goes still. The goblin behind it goes still with it. For a long count there is only the wind, the chain at my chest jingling very small with my breath, and the hot grind of horse-muscle between my thighs. Then his hand comes up off my hip, finds the chain between my tits, and *plucks*.(playwhenread:"jingle") *Tch.* The chain bites the underside of my right breast where it seats, and the nipple stands stiff inside the triangle in half a second. *Nh.* I bite the sound flat. "*Picked clean*," he says, sweet as honey on a knife. "*HARHAR.* Collar says yer lyin'." He plucks the chain a second time, harder. My right tit jumps inside its triangle, squeezes a pale crescent of meat up over the top hem, bounces once full and slow before settling. I shut my eyes. "Hero-tits thinks Master's stupid." He drops the chain and the cock-print at my spine settles back into its weight with one slow renewed *thud*. "Lookit them try to lie wi' that pretty face still red as a tomater. Tch tch tch." His hand slides down off the chain, knuckles dragging a slow line across the bare belly to my hip. His thumb hooks under the side-knot of the drakeslip. "I gave ye these little modest slatternplates as a thank-ye, didn't I, deary. Fer the lovely hand ye lent me yesterday. Ye were *beggin'* fer more cloth that mornin', remember? Beggin' Master fer somethin' to cover them fat arsecheeks. *Bawlin'.* An' Master, soft-hearted thing he is, give ye these." The thumb tugs once. The waistband drops a finger on the right. A pale half-moon of fresh skin shows itself to the desert. "But if yer gonna *lie* in 'em," he sighs, "Master might decide he liked the view better the old way. Bit more arse out fer Snibby to look at. Hero-cheeks all bare for the sun to kiss. Bit o' floss between to keep the place clean. *Hrukhrukhruk*. Try that pretty story again. See what me hands decide ye're wearin' by sundown." The half-breeches at my hip suddenly fit me like mercy. "If anythin'!"(change_stat:"snib",-1)(change_stat:"heroism",1)](else:)[I close my mouth. His breath against the back of my neck has a long shape, in and out, slow as the horse, and the thing pressed to the small of my back makes a fresh print through the cloth on his time, not mine. His palm leaves my hip and comes around in front of me, hot and small on the inside of my thigh first, climbing, then flat against the seam of the drakeslip between my legs where the metal is too tight to give. The palm rocks once. Twice. With the horse's stride. My thighs clamp. The boots clamp on Jarkrond's flanks under them. Snib breathes in. *WHAP.*(playwhenread:"spank 2")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.46,"pulseMs",120,"count",1,"rest",0)) His other palm comes down across the bare top of my left cheek without warning and the chain rings the apology my mouth will not make while my left breast jumps free of its triangle, tumbles, lands, the nipple beading hard through the scale as it settles. *Khh.* The sound escapes through my teeth. I bite my lip.(change_stat:"heroism",-1)](pic:"ch05/01_ride.jpg")(simple_option:"05 the head","The head draws near.")

(playwhenread:"desert horse")(vid:"img/ch05/dungeon entrance.mp4") (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")*Sleep, Maraan, in chambers deep,* *In shadows where no sunbeams seep,* *Caught in time's relentless hands,* *Lulled beneath the Shifting Sands* *Rest, Thul'nara, in vaults unseen,* *Where dreams dissolve and fates convene,* *Stay your wrath, your reign delayed,* *Beneath the desert's silent shade* *In halls where echoes come undone,* *Silent lie, Zor'ethun,* *In slumber deep and deathless trance,* *Beyond the dawn's first wary lance* *Hearken, children, to my decree,* *Let ancients in their slumber be.* *Make no clamor, stir no sound,* *On sacred sea or hallowed ground.* I had not thought of those verses since I was eight years old in my mother's kitchen with flour on my chin. "Gold, gold, *gold*. Smell it on the wind, deary. *Hrukhrukhruk.* Master smells it from 'ere. Ol' face out there's got a mouthful o' gold, swear on me ma's tit, swear on the king's left bollock. Lookit 'er jiggle when I says it. Whole back end of 'er goes *yes Master, gold Master*. Don't it, Jarky." I grit my teeth on the next lift, drop. The Head has come close enough that the lip of the open mouth has shadow under it now.(simple_option:"05 approach","And then the wind dies.")($play:"ambience","desert wind")

($play:"song","obelisk")($play:"ambience","desert")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(hidden_gem:"The teeth come into view inside the shadow of the lip and catch light.","The teeth take shape beneath the tomb's tongue and trap a thin, tar-black twinkle.") Wet light. Black light. A slow line of something runs from the lower-left fang into the sand. The sand under the fang is dark in a small fan, and the dark does not soak in the way water soaks. Oil. (pic:"ch05/02_ancientone_entrance.jpg","Oil.") From inside the open mouth, air rolls out *against* the desert wind that wants to go in. The smell takes a long count to name: wet copper at the front of the tongue, then under it old grease, then under *that* something organic that has been sleeping in its own warmth. My stomach turns, but I do not let it show. I need to hide *any* sign of weakness from my opportunistic little tyrant.(playwhenread:"asking you to turn around") Jarkrond plants a stone's-throw from the lip and he does not lift a hoof again, ears flat to his skull, white showing all the way around the eye. *The horse is smarter than the goblin riding him!* "Off, hero-tits." I swing my leg over Jarkrond's back. The metal cups cannot hold what the lean asks of them; both breasts pour forward, the chain swings to its full length, and they pour back in a long lazy three-bounce that I feel against my own ribs before I find sand with my heel. My boots touch ground. I straighten, steadying myself with a hand on the horse's flank. (pic:"ch05/02_dismount.jpg","left","'Even *Aldric* would not have entered a place like this, Snib.'","gif")"Even *Aldric* would not have entered a place like this." I say it level, making one last attempt to dissuade. "Not without a company. Even as a man at full strength! I am not what I was. I am asking you to turn around." Then comes the *HARHARHAR*, full-throated, public-square laugh, and it makes Jarkrond's ear flick. "Ye *asked* plain, did ye." He shifts behind me. "Let Master answer plain."(simple_option:"05 dismount","Brace yourself.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")I do not have time to turn before he leaps. He lands on my shoulders with both feet and the weight drives my knees a hand's-breadth into the sand.(playwhenread:"fall sand") My spine cracks somewhere small at the base of the neck. I bite my tongue and copper blooms on my palate. He balances by gripping fistfuls of my hair, two hard yanks left and right that find his centre, and once his centre is found his loincloth settles in. It settles on my head. (pic:"ch05/02_ballsonhead.jpg","right","The bulging gobbo-nutsack rests on the crown of my skull like a hot, slack purse.")The bulging gobbo-nutsack rests on the crown of my skull like a hot, slack purse. The weight of them is real. The *shift* of them is real. The left one rolls into the right one with a wet shifting noise. *Gluk.* Then back. *Gluk.* They keep finding their level on the curve of my head with every breath he takes. (playwhenread:"ye do have company")"Ye DO have a company! Ye got *my* company! Ain't that nice?" Heat rolls down my face in a slow curtain: mushroom-broth, old leather and that sour ball-stink that I am tragically becoming accustomed to. My mouth fills with water. I swallow it. A bead of pre breaks from the tent in his cloth and lands warm on my forehead. It draws down the bridge of my nose in a slow line, runs to the tip, hangs. I wipe it off with my forearm before the dangerous, pheromone-laden substance can come anywhere near my mouth. "*Ohhhhhh.*" He shifts and his stones roll left to right on my skull. *Gluk. Gluk.* He has angled himself to peer down past his own loincloth at my chest. "*This* what ye see out the front all day, eh? Two big wobble-bags hung off ye? *HARHARHAR.* No wonder the hero couldn't think straight. I'd lose me mind, me." The fists in my hair tighten and his weight shifts forward onto the balls of his feet. "Now lissen, hero-tits, an' lissen clear, 'cause Master's only sayin' it the once more nicely."(simple_option:"05 dismount descent","He shifts his weight.")

His left foot lifts off my shoulder and the absence of half his weight makes me sway. I lock my knees. The foot comes down again. *Squelch.*(playwhenread:"climb down") His sole plants directly on top of my right breast. The triangle gives at once, sliding off the curve and surrendering my nipple to the desert air. His toes sink into the warm fat of me and grip the way a wet foot grips a wet rock. He puts his weight on it. The breast bulges around his ankle. The auburn flush takes the whole underside in one rolling wave. "*One fat tit,*" he counts down, cheerful as a child on a stair. The feminine gasp that follows is the worst thing my body has done today and the day has been long. The other foot comes off my other shoulder and lands on the left breast with the same wet grip and the same sinking weight. Now both nipples are bare and pink in the air, both triangles slid sideways, the chain pulled taut between them and snagged under his right heel. "*Two fat tit.*" The grin in his voice is wide. "Like climbin' meat-steps, this is. Luxurious!" He tests the step with one bounce, just to feel them give. My whole front shudders and the breath punches out of me in another embarrassing noise. The hands in my hair pull me forward into a slow bow and his feet ride the curve of my breasts down. His left sole drags off my chest, slides over the chain, plants on the soft swell of my belly above the waistband of the drakeslip. His right follows. He is half a man's height lower now, crouched. His cock has come out from under the loincloth at this angle, hot and heavy against the side of my neck, and the bead at the slit has decided to crawl down behind my ear. I am bent at the waist. A goblin stands on my stomach, his cock leaving a line of heat from my jaw to my collarbone, and I cannot stop the small sound that comes out of me as he tugs my hair to angle me lower. "*There she goes,*" he croons. "*Bend fer Master. Pretty hero, pretty bow.*"(simple_option:"05 dismount climb","He climbs down.")

He could have jumped down from there. Instead, he makes a show of my position. He wrenches one fist tighter in my hair and swings his whole body around the side of my bowed head in a single ugly arc, his bare feet leaving my belly mid-swing and planting square on my shoulder-blades before I feel him let go of anything. His cock drags a hot wet line across my throat on the way past, and the desert air finds it a half-second later and turns it cold. He crouches there a beat, riding my back, finding his balance, his stones swinging to knock warm and heavy against my spine and snag on the back of my collar. Then he drops his weight backward off my shoulders entirely, and the next thing that takes it is my ass. *Tock.* His left foot lands on the metallic, stretched expanse of drakeslip. *Tock.* His right finds the other cheek. The metal scales of the drakeslip rasp under his sole, and his toes curl over the waistband to grip. He is standing on my ass with his full weight, two small wet feet. My cheeks part under him to take his balance. The cock that had been on my throat is now sliding down the back of my neck and down the channel of my spine. "What a fat arse," he chuckles, low. "Best step yet. More support!" He shifts his balance and the meat of me parts further under his soles. The waistband drops a knuckle on each side under his toes. "*Hnnh!*" "*Hear that, Jarky?* Hero's got opinions about Master's stepladder." (pic:"ch05/02_goblinladder.png","left","Always fun to be a goblin ladder.")His feet ski down the curve of my cheeks and his cock rides the channel. His hands let go of my hair to scrabble for grip on my hips. The scrabble fails because the scale is slick under his palms, and the last foot of the descent is a small uncontrolled slither that lands him in the sand behind me with a soft *plap* of stones meeting his own thigh. I stand bent at the waist, breasts hanging out of the scale-cups into my own field of vision, the chain swinging once, twice, slower, slower, finally hanging still and very low between them. The cool line his cock left along my back is already drying. My scalp burns where his fists were in my hair. My nipples are hard enough to ache. *SLAP.*(playwhenread:"spank 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.38,"pulseMs",110,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Ye can stand up proper, ladder!" I straighten. He walks around to face me. "Take yer sword, hero, if ye still know how to hold somethin' that ain't a cock." The flush climbs from my collarbone to my hairline in one hot wave.(simple_option:"05 ask for magic","Ask for magic.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")"Now lissen." He scratches under his belly with the back of his hand. His cock prods through the cloth at my hip-bone for emphasis. "I been passin' this Head fer years, deary. *Years.* Always knew there was gold down there. Deep down. *Been callin' to me, it has.* Today we go get it. Curiosity, call it." *Calling to him.* The collar at my throat pulses once, soft, answering its own name. *Oh.* The band around my neck is old as the stone he stands before. Cast in the same lost age that carved a mile of face into the desert and buried it. And for years it has been murmuring *gold, gold, deep down* into the one skull in the wastes greedy enough to walk toward the sound. It is not marching him to his death. It has kept him breathing at every turn, cinches my throat the instant I so much as picture his end. It needs him alive. It needs his legs. A collar cannot walk itself home. The thought settles cold and will not leave me. Snib believes he is the master here, come to plunder a tomb. He is the mule, led across half a desert on a leash he cannot feel, back to the place it was made, certain the whole way that the wanting was his. Mine, at least, I can feel. "Snib," I say, trying to stifle a moan as he reaches around and gropes my breasts. "Let me have magic. One spell to keep prepared. We must be ready to act at any moment." "*Magic.*" He laughs close to my hip. His breath finds my thigh, hot. "Magic against old stone, is it? Gonna *blast* yer way through? Gonna fly us home in a basket, hero?" "Protection!" "*No.*" The word is flat. (playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 1")(pic:"ch05/03_begmagic.png","right","'But, Master...'")"But, Master..." the collar pulses as he slaps my tits around. "*No magic.* If ye need it down there, *I'll* be the one to say the word." His hand finds the back of my thigh where the leg-cut bares it and he pats the meat, fond. "Master likes ye scared. Master likes ye with what ye *got*." His other hand cups himself through the cloth and adjusts. Makes sure I see. "An' what ye got is them tits, them legs, an' the pretty fella on yer hip. *HARHAR.*"(simple_option:"05 enter","Enter silently.","Keep begging.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")(if:$choice is "Keep begging.")["Master. *Please.*" The word comes out wet and the wet is from my own mouth filling. "One spell. You *know* I cannot use it against you." "*Hehehe.*" His hand on my thigh slides up. "*No*, deary. Sing yer little magic ditty in yer head if it makes ye feel better. I don't like magic." The flush climbs my throat under the collar. (change_stat:"snib",-1)I close my mouth.](else:)[I close my mouth around the next word and swallow it.] I pull Whisperwind from her sheath.(playwhenread:"draw sword") The grip sits warm in my palm. Black dragonskin where shagreen should be. The blade flat, dark, dull as something pulled from a bog, twenty-four inches where there used to be thirty. *GOBLIN-OWNED HERO* burnt across the fuller, catching the sun for one bright second before the sun gives up on it. When I move her through the air, she is just dead metal. My full inventory: one cum-corrupted blade, one body that is all soft jiggles and no muscle, two high-spike heels that will skid on anything not flat or covered in the oil seeping through the entrance. Aldric's instincts and reflexes, considerable as they are, were built on spells behind my teeth and strength in my swings. That is all I have between myself and what is sleeping in there. And the crueller joke sits right in front of me, bleeding black from the fang above the door. The tar pools on the first steps down. The whole throat of the place reeks of rendered fat. My one real weapon is fire, and fire in a hole this drenched does not kill the thing at the bottom. It makes a pyre with the two of us inside it. He forbids me my flame because he is a small mean creature who likes me kept frightened. That the ban is also the only reason we will not burn together in this grease-pit is an accident of his stupidity, and I do not intend to correct it. "*Walk,* hero-tits." Snib walks past Jarkrond without looking at the horse, and the horse does not look at him. He is relieved not to be expected to enter. The Head is too large for human eyes to read whole. The lip I am walking toward is wider than the gate of Ironrock. Seams run under the sand-blown stone: a fine dark line at the corner of the jaw, another below the cheek, a third disappearing into the dune where a neck should be. *Joints.* Whatever this was, once, its parts moved. (pic:"ch05/01_glyph.jpg","right")The teeth come up. The lower fang on the left has the wet sheen. Close enough now, I see it is not stone at all where the sheen sits. The stone has *opened* there, a hand's-breadth crack, and what runs out of the crack is the colour of cooled tar. A cold breath rolls out of the mouth against the desert wind.(simple_option:"05 enter glyph","Read the glyph.")

I crouch at the corner of the lip. A glyph lies half-eaten by sand. I clear it with the side of my boot. The shape resolves: a circle, a vertical line, a small hook at the base. A *sealing* mark. I have seen one like it in the wizard's library at Eboncrest, copied in red ink with two warnings beside it and a third below. My breath goes shallow. *This was closed.* I lean closer. My lips part to shape the sound under my breath, the way a scholar tests a word before trusting it with weight: *Sssssssssss.*(playwhenread:"piss glyph") A long hot splattering hiss above me. Yellow tracking dark into the carved line of the glyph not a hand's-breadth from my face. "*Aaaaaaaah,*" Snib sighs, contented. Both his hands are on his cock, aiming, and the arc holds and *keeps* holding. "Markin' our spot, deary. So ol' face down there knows whose treasure-trove this is now. *HARHAR.*" The piss runs into the carved character and pools. The hook fills first. Then the line. The circle takes longest. I do not move because if I move, the splash gets me. When he is done he shakes himself onto the stone beside my cheek. "*Hrukhrukhruk.* In ye go, hero. Master's right behind ye." I rise. His palm finds the bare top of my ass-cheek and shoves. I stumble forward two steps.(playwhenread:"trip and fall") The triangles fail in the stumble. Both breasts swing low and the chain jingles down and back. *Pap. Pap.*(playwhenread:"boobslap 1") Landing against my ribs. I catch them with a forearm, without looking, the way a woman catches a falling shawl. A reflex I am shamefully beginning to cultivate. At the threshold I turn my head a quarter. Just enough that he can see one eye. "We'll see who is *scared*, Master. Later. In the dark." He stops giggling for one whole second. Then the collar at my throat constricts. His hand finds my cheek again, harder, and pushes me through. *Tock.*(playwhenread:"tick")(simple_option:"05 jaw steps","Descend.")

(pic:"ch05/03_descent.jpg") (set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/concentrated/1.png")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")(hidden_gem:"*Click.* *Clack.* *Click.* My heels announce me to whatever lives in the dark ahead.","*Click.* *Clack.* *Click.* Each cruel click carries my coming through the corpse-cold corridor.") Snib is two steps up the throat behind me, eye-level with the bare strip the leg-cuts have made of my ass. "Wiggle wiggle wiggle. Real ladylike." I bite my tongue. Whisperwind sits in my right hand, dull and warm, and my left is out for the wall, which is wet. The titanic throat narrows. The carvings start. Figures bound at the wrist with their mouths open wide. "Ye thinkin' about yesterday, cow-tits?" *Don't.* "First time ye ever drained me proper." A drip of dark oil lands on the step in front of me, fat and dark. I step around it. My boot finds dry stone, holds. "What's yer wifey reckon, eh? About her precious hubby off with Snibby again." (pic:"ch05/03_dungeon.jpg","Cracks in the ceiling seem to allow desert sunlight to filter down.") The tears come before I can shut them down. Hot, quick, embarrassing. I tip my chin to keep them in my eyes. They slide sideways into my hair instead of down my face. *She doesn't know.* *She doesn't know and you have to live to tell her, or live to never tell her, but you have to live.* "Whew." Snib whistles low. "Cold down here, innit." One of my heels skids on the sand. Whisperwind comes up an inch on reflex. I *swear* I hear chittering sounds in the distance. (vid:"img/ch05/walking.mp4","left")The plan assembles itself behind my teeth. *First worked metal we find. First old coin, first cracked goblet. Treasure-trove, Master, here it is, look, ten thousand worth easy, let's go. He's stupid. He'll buy it. He has to buy it.* I am GOING to get us through this. The roof drops to a stone tongue the size of a banquet table, slung low across the passage. Under it the floor falls away into a crawlspace barely wide enough for shoulders. (hidden_gem:"The air coming out of it is colder than the rest, and older.","The air creeping out is crypt-cold, close, and catastrophically old.") I crouch. The drakeslip rides high enough that the back hem disappears entirely; my whole ass is bare to him now. Behind me, Snib's balls clop once against his thigh as he stops. "In ye get, hero-tits. Master right behind."(simple_option:"05 crawlspace","Crawl.")($play:"song","obelisk")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/1.png")I push Whisperwind ahead of me on the stone, her dull edge whispering something old to the floor.(playwhenread:"whisperwind sliding") Then I go after her on my hands and knees. The dungeon swallows me to the hips and stops me. My ass is wedged in the entry. The half-breeches grip on dry stone and the leg-cuts have eaten so high there is nothing of the cloth to slide on, only bare meat against carved rock. I push and the rock pushes back. Somewhere far ahead in the dark something scrapes, very faint, the kind of sound a person hopes they imagined. Behind me, Snib makes a delighted little noise in his throat. His warty palms find both my cheeks. He sets his weight against them, leaning in the way a butcher leans over a side of pork, and his cock through the cloth presses warm and wet against the back of my right thigh. "Fat-arse hero's got herself stuck," he says. (pic:"ch05/05_stuck.jpg","'Fat-arse hero's got herself stuck!'")He shoves hard. The geometry works. I pop through into the crawlspace proper with a graceless slither, my hands going out for balance into something cold and oily that takes my palm to the wrist. My breasts pour out of the scale-cups the instant I'm horizontal. The chain between them slithers down, hangs in the dark, clicks once against the stone underneath me.(playwhenread:"jingle") The cups slide useless under my collarbones, and my tits swing free between my arms like two heavy wineskins. (hidden_gem:"They drag forward with every motion of my shoulders, soft and full and stupid.","They swing with each shoulder-shuffle, soft, swollen, stupid sacks scouring the stone.") My nipples brush the gritty stone and stand up so hard I lose a breath I needed. Snib is right behind me on his own hands and knees, his face at the level of my ass. The smell that fills the crawlspace is mostly him. "That clever fat humie," he says, conversationally, into the small of my back. I crawl. The tunnel slopes faintly down. My boots scrape the low roof when I lift a knee too high. "Gobbo can respect a humie what knows what he wants." Far ahead, in the dark, something drags. I freeze. My tits hang and sway under me, slowing to stillness. The chain ticks twice against the stone and goes quiet. (pic:"ch05/crawl.jpg") "Wonder what ol' Grimjaw's up to tonight, eh? With us out here on holiday." I crawl again because sticking around and listening to him is worse. "Bet he's takin' the air. Walkin' them pretty streets. Smellin' the flowers. Maybe stoppin' by some little house he knows, sayin' hello to the lady of the house, since the man o' the house ain't home, har har." The tear that comes lands on the back of my own hand where it meets the stone and the stone drinks it. Elara alone in her nightgown at the door of a house Grimjaw knows. That scrape in the dark comes again, closer this time. (pic:"ch05/crawl pov.jpg")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")($play:"song",0) Side passages open and close past me on the left and right. I cannot see into them. They are at too sharp an angle to turn down, and slightly too narrow. The crawlspace is barely wider than my hips and a head turned sideways shows me only blackness with a smell coming out of it. "She'd let him in, ye reckon? Yer wifey?" Snib hums into my lower back, comfortable. "Polite girl like that. Don't know how to say no to a big strong humie come callin' all neighbourly. He'd just walk on in." "No," I state simply. "My wife knows how to take care of herself. I had to stop her from killing *you*." The scrape comes a third time. It is very close. It is in one of the side passages I have already crawled past.(simple_option:"05 still or move","Hold absolutely still.","Crawl faster.")

($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")(pic:"ch05/crawl decision.jpg")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")(if:$choice is "Hold absolutely still.")[My breathing bounces off the stone ceiling. Snib's fingers dig into my calf so hard his warts leave prints. The chain between my tits hangs down and clicks against the floor with my heartbeat.(playwhenread:"jingle") The scraping doesn't come again, but I could *swear* I felt something on my thigh, something disturbingly like a rhythmic... breath. "Snib," I whisper. "When I move, you hold my boot and don't let go." His fingers tighten. Something is right behind us.(change_stat:"heroism",1)](else:)[I crawl faster, elbows and knees grinding stone. My tits swing and slap the floor with each lurch forward.(playwhenread:"boobslap 2") The metal boot-tops screech on the ceiling when I lift my knees too high. Snib clings to my calf and gets dragged behind me making little whimpering sounds. The tunnel slopes down and gets wetter. Oil makes my hands slip. The darkness changes ahead, maybe a wider space where I can stand and swing. I push toward it hard, thighs burning, the bikini chain jingling with each stroke. Behind us, something moves.(change_stat:"heroism",-1)](simple_option:"05 skrall grab","Keep crawling.")($play:"song",0)

($play:"sound","skrall jumpscare")(pic:"ch05/skralljumpscare.jpg") ($play:"song",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/shocked/1.png")(hidden_gem:"A side passage opens directly ahead, and a horrible skull-head slides into my path out of nowhere.","A side-shaft splits the stone and a slick, sepulchral skull slides soundlessly across my sightline.") The grip locks before I can kick and four claws dimple my skin above the tendon. It yanks me sideways. My right tit slams the floor and the scale cup crumples flat. Snib screams like a stepped-on rat, and the echo comes back from every direction at once. His hands lose my boot as something on his side drags at him. (playwhenread:"struggle underground")I twist and kick. My heel hits something that cracks like pottery that hasn't yet been fired. The *thing* hisses but doesn't let go. It moves its grip higher to my bare thigh, and now the claws are in deep and I feel blood running toward my knee. "GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!" Snib is shrieking, and I've never heard him sound this genuinely terrified. I punch Whisperwind backward along my body, no room to swing, just a straight thrust. The blade scrapes my ribs through the bikini strap and finds something in the dark. Resistance like bark. Then metal. Then the blade sinks through with a wet crunch and goes in deep. The hissing turns to a whistle. The claws drag four burning lines down my thigh, then the fingers unlock one by one. Something heavy slumps against stone and twitches twice before going still. Black oil is everywhere, on my arms, my ankle, seeping into the claw marks. It smells like the inside of the earth. Snib is being dragged backward by something bent and glistening. The thing clicks twice and tilts its head at me. "ELIIISE!" Snib screams. I have Whisperwind slick with oil and one thrust before it drags him into that side passage.(simple_option:"05 get it off me","Fight the dead thing off your leg.","Save your master.")($play:"sex loop",0)

($play:"sex loop","struggle underground")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fight/1.png")(if:$choice is "Fight the dead thing off your leg.")[(change_stat:"heroism",-3)(change_stat:"snib",-2)I drive Whisperwind into it,(playwhenread:"stab") screaming, and I hack until the grip on my thigh finally falls away. "ELIIIIISE!"(playwhenread:"elise panic") Snib's voice is small and far away now, dragged into the side passage. I scrabble around to face that direction, but the crawlspace is too narrow. By the time I get Whisperwind around there's only the sound. A wet pop, like a cork. Then Snib doesn't scream anymore. And my collar tightens.(simple_option:"05 bad end tunnel death","The collar closes.")](else:)[Fuck.(playwhenread:"elise panic") *Fuck.* I leave the thing on my leg, claws and all. I twist toward Snib's voice with every muscle in my back screaming, and shove Whisperwind sideways into the dark where the creature is dragging him. There's a crunch,(playwhenread:"hit_enemy") then a hiss, then the mask cracks sideways off whatever face is under it. I don't look, just shoving the sword deeper and twist it and something GIVES. Snib drops to the stone, wheezing. I have one second to move.(simple_option:"05 crawlspace escape","Drag him clear.")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fight/1.png")($play:"sex loop",0)(change_stat:"heroism",2)I crawl to him and get my arm under his ribs and drag us both forward, Whisperwind scraping ahead of me on the floor,(playwhenread:"whisperwind sliding") my knees grinding on stone. The tunnel widens. I can feel it in the way the air opens up, the ceiling lifting away from my back, and I push until we tumble out of the crawlspace into a chamber where I can finally breathe. (hp:-8,"Saving Snib costs blood") I roll onto my back and pry the dead thing's claws out of my thigh one by one. Each comes free with a little wet pop and a fresh bead of blood. I fling the arm off me and it hits the far wall with a sound like a dropped saddle. Snib sits up, coughs twice, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. (pic:"ch05/post battle.png") "Ye took yer sweet thrakkin' time," he says.(playwhenread:"ye took yer sweet time")($play:"song",0) I stare at him. "There were *two of them*!" "Big clever hero-cow." He gets to his feet and brushes grit off his belly. "What's the point of ye if ye can't even sniff out a couple o' crawlies?" He's shaking in fear, but I still want to put my fist through his face quite badly. Instead, I stand up. My thigh holds my weight but is far from happy about it. This new chamber is maybe twenty feet across, carved ceiling, walls with little holes oozing oil, and three passages leading deeper. I can hear water somewhere. "We need to go back," I say. "That crawlspace is a chokepoint and there are more of those things between us and the surface. They'll block us in." "Back through the bug tunnel?" Snib laughs, shrill and too loud. "Nah. Ye're the muscle, I'm the management. Ain't found one coin yet. So we ain't leavin'." I study him. His hands are shaking. His eyes keep cutting to the black of the crawlspace and back, and that laugh came out an octave too high. Every instinct in that cowardly little body is screaming the same word mine is. *Up. Out. Now.* And still his mouth says down. I have watched Snib run yelping from a stray dog. Snib does not walk toward the thing that frightens him. (hidden_gem:"Something is walking him.","Something wicked is wearing him and walking him willingly toward its waiting dark.") More clicking in the leftmost passage. "Sn- master, at *least* let me use magic." "No." *This thrakking irrational, stupid, disgusting little...* "There are more of them coming." "No magic. Are ye stupid? Just use yer sword." He ties his half-torn loincloth back around his waist. His cock flops against his thigh as he knots the hide, still soft, and he catches me looking and grins with those broken-graveyard teeth. "See somethin' ye like, hero?" (pic:"ch05/see something ye like.png") I close my eyes. And breathe. Three tunnels are in front of us.(simple_option:"05 deeper","The rightmost passage goes up.")($play:"song",0)

($play:"song","desert dungeon music")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodscared.png")"That way," I say. "It keeps us from getting too far underground. Maybe there's a way out." Snib stands at the mouth of the middle one with his nostrils working, his whole face pointed down the slope. "Gold's always down. Walk, miss jugs-a-lot," he says, pointing to another. I want to scream. In fact, I would gladly die if it wouldn't abandon my wife to a life of lonely misery. The middle passage becomes a stair. Every step is a knee-high drop of black stone, the tread a full stride deep. I take them one at a time, sword hand out for balance. Every landing goes through the whole of me: heels ring, the clawed thigh barks, and my tits jounce, lurch, flop home against my ribs with the chain chattering between them. Snib hops down behind me at ass-height, recovered enough to enjoy himself. "Boing," he narrates. *Boing yourself.* As we descend, the stone goes smooth, then polished... then figured. Processions of bound figures cut shoulder to shoulder, every mouth open, every wrist crossed, all of them marching the same direction I am walking. Then the pipes start. The first comes out of the wall at shoulder height and runs beside the stair, green-black metal I could not circle with both arms. I lay my palm on it. The metal is warm. I take my hand away, thinking about saying something to Snib before thinking better of it. (pic:"ch05/chasm.jpg","right","gif","For once both his hands hang empty at his sides.")More pipes join from the walls, from the ceiling, braided and descending. The stair ends at a ledge. The hall below has no far wall the eye can find. (hidden_gem:"Pipework drops out of the upper dark in hundreds of strands and plunges into a standing black lake, dead still, skinned with sheen.","Pipes plummet from the pitch above in petrified profusion, piercing a perfectly placid pool polished with poisonous sheen.") Beside me Snib has gone quiet. For once both his hands hang empty at his sides. We stand on the lip of it, a goblin and a collared woman in scale-scraps. The place hums through us without noticing either of us. For one held breath I forget what I am wearing and what I have lost. I am only small. The smallness of standing in a temple raised by something that could have used my whole body for a finger. "S'all *mine*!" whispers Snib.(simple_option:"05 the amber seep","Follow the ledge.")($play:"song","desert dungeon music")

($play:"song","desert dungeon music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictarousal/1.png")The ledge runs along the wall of the hall. Oil-lake on the right, figured stone on the left. I walk it heel-toe, blade low, and the amber points keep pace under the black. Halfway along, a seal has cracked. It is a fitting in the wall the size of a shield-boss, ringed in glyphs. From a hair-width split in its face an oil bleeds that is amber instead of the usual black. It comes one bead at a time, swells on the lip of the crack, fattens, drops. *Plip.* "Whazzat *smell*." Snib's nose is up. "Whoo. *Whoo.*" The beads have built a small shining puddle on the walkway. (hidden_gem:"The smell of the puddle crosses ten feet of cold air and walks straight in through my face. Hot fruit first, peaches split open in the sun. Under that, warm resin.","The puddle's perfume prowls ten paces to possess me: pulped peaches putrefying in punishing sun, then pine-pitch, pungent and perversely warm.") My head swims one slow circle, and the heat arrives low in my belly. I stop breathing through my nose. My nipples have already drawn tight against the scale and my thighs have already given one slow traitor's flex. (pic:"ch05/amber oil.jpg","'Don't touch it, it could be dangerous. K'Tarrans used oils to-'") "Don't touch it, it could be dangerous. K'Tarrans used oils to-" He touches it: two fingers into the puddle, up under his nose, one long greedy sniff. His eyes cross and his cock ticks up under the loincloth in real time, the cloth lifting off his thigh in a single slow nod. "*Hehehe.* Oh, that's goin' in the bag." His eyes climb me, stop at my chest, and a thought moves behind them. It is the worst kind. "C'mere." "Master, please, not now." "C'mere, c'mere." Two amber-wet fingers, beckoning. The collar walks my legs for me. He has to go up on tiptoe and even then only reaches my sternum, which suits him to the ground. Two warm fingers paint a slow line down my cleavage, along the chain, into the deep crease where my tits press together. The smell climbs off my own body in a wave with nowhere to go but up into my face. Nostrils. Sinuses. The swim. The knees. The heat, blooming wide this time, settling low in me to stay. "Hh." I catch my lip in my teeth. "There." He wipes his fingers dry on the side-swell of my left tit. "Perfume for the cow. Now ye smell *rich*, (nickname:)." (pic:"ch05/perfume for the cow.png") Out of the dark ahead, I hear a sound. *Tk.* It came from the lake.(simple_option:"05 two masks","Blade up.")($play:"song","desert dungeon music")

(playwhenread:"skrall attack")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fight/1.png")(pic:"ch05/skrall fighter.png","It's blackened, old past guessing.")The hall delivers them to me with no hurry at all. (hidden_gem:"The first comes out of the pipe-shadow ahead where the walkway narrows. It moves bent, knuckles to the stone: a man's gait folded too many times and never unfolded. The body glistens head to foot, black-slicked, hair hanging in oiled ropes knotted into shapes against its chest.","The first beast bleeds from beneath the blackened pipes, bent-backed and bone-buckled, its broken bipedal gait beaten into a knuckle-walk, its body bright with black bile and braided ropes of begrimed hair.") It's blackened, old past guessing. Behind the eye-slits, two wet glints sunk a knuckle too deep into the head. The second one comes out of the lake. The skin of the oil opens around a skull and it stands up out of the black by degrees, streaming, sheen pouring off its shoulders in slow sheets. It steps onto the walkway behind us with no more sound than settling cloth. One ahead. One behind. Ten feet of railless stone each way and the long dark drop on my right. "Master, behind me. *Slow.*" He is already there. He hits me from behind at a dead sprint, both green arms clamping around my left thigh like a drowning man finding driftwood, and climbs, knees digging into the meat of my calf, claws finding purchase in soft flesh that has nothing to offer him but give. The Skralls stop. Both of them. Ten feet off, either side. And they breathe in. Both heads tilt to the same degree. They are imbibing the scent the collar brews out of my skin for one purpose. Under the stiff black tatters at the first one's hips, something moves. Long, narrow at the root, slick, hunched against the belly, and as the mask tracks down my body it stirs and lifts away from the thigh in slow degrees, a hard swell standing out along it two-thirds down. Behind me the other one's tatters shift with the same dry whisper. They are not looking at my sword. "KILL 'EM." Snib's shriek goes off against the back of my knee at a pitch that hurts. "Kill 'em kill 'em KILL 'EM, cow-tits, what do I *FEED* ye for!" "Magic." Flat, once, my eyes moving mask to mask. "Say the word, Snib. Two words and they burn where they stand." "*NO!*" His nails grind into the cuts. "No magic, no filthy wizard-muck down 'ere in the dark wi' me, USE THE SWORD, the POKEY END, ye great fat useless milk-wagon!" "Master..." "*SWORD!*" The masks tilt toward his voice, consider it for the length of a drip, and return to me. To the chain. To the rise and fall of my chest inside the scale, which I cannot still. This body has decided to breathe fast and high whether I permit it or not, and every breath squeezes a pale crescent of me up over each cup and rings the chain its tiny ring. Both bronze faces are aimed at exactly that. Fine. I take my stance. Weight back into the locked steel of the boot-cuffs. The cuffs hold a line these soft calves no longer can. Left heel onto the one dry yard of stone. Whisperwind up and forward in a thrust guard, point steady on the first mask's eye-slit. There is no room to swing on a ledge, and a thrust is the only honest thing I have left. The inventory takes one breath: twenty-four inches of dull, defiled steel. A clawed thigh with a goblin hanging off it. Tits slicked in come-hither. Aldric the Great has held worse ground than this, surely. *Name one,* says the body. The first Skrall comes up off its knuckles.(simple_option:"05 skrall fight","Strike first.","Take them one at a time.")($play:"song","dungeon combat music")

(set:$pb_form to "elise")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fight/1.png")(if:$choice is "Take them one at a time.")[(change_stat:"heroism",1)(notification:"Tactical choice: you keep the chokepoint.")I walk them backward to the stair, one step up and then another, until the throat-mouth of it sits at my spine and the drops fall away knee-high behind me. They cannot come at me together here. "Master. Up. Behind me, now." Snib takes me far too literally, and swarms up my back in a scrabble of warts and locks both arms around my throat, his weight hauling my chin down toward my own chest. No time to argue, I lock the neck out against him. Point forward, on the black skull-face below me, weight sunk back into the steel of the boot-cuffs where these soft calves can't be trusted. The first one climbs toward me. It comes up off its knuckles onto the stone and the head clicks, tilts, the eye-pits dropping toward my hip, and I put the point through the socket where an eye should sit.(playwhenread:"stab") It folds. Down and sideways, quicker than anything that climbed that slow had a right to be, and my thrust sails over its shoulder into black air, and a slick hand closes on my sword-wrist and *pulls.* I come off the cuff. The whole weight of me tips out over the drop, heels skidding the oiled stone, Snib screaming into my ear, the dark of the lake swinging up to meet my face as the floor walks out from under my heels. Knee *down!*(playwhenread:"fall") It cracks the lower step and the cuff bites stone and holds, and the fall becomes a crouch, and both tits clap flat against the cold stone under me. The Skrall's pull drags high over my ducked head. Its claws comb the air where my throat had been. "USE THE *SWORD* YE FAT USELESS COW, KILL IT, KILL IT!" It comes over me. And between its hunched legs the thing hangs, long and black, swinging with the lunge, a fat bead stringing off the end of it toward my upturned face, and for one whole stupid heartbeat my eye goes there instead of to the claws. It reaches wide, both arms spreading, hunting my wrists and my throat at once, and I throw my forearm up into the right hand. The hooks go in. Four lines of fire down to the bone. I bite the scream flat and drive Whisperwind two-handed up into its chest.(playwhenread:"stab") Bark. Then metal. The point skates off its surprisingly dense carapace and skids out wide. It draws my arm in toward itself. Slow. Patient. The way you pull something close to keep.(battle:"05 skrall fight one result","Skrall",(dm:"magicSealed",true))](else:)[I drive Whisperwind at the pit of the nearest eye before either thing chooses the shape of the fight. It folds under the thrust. The point skates over its skull and the other one comes in low behind the miss, claws raking sparks off the stone where my ankle was. I hop the strike by inches, land wrong, and the boot-cuff is the only reason I do not go into the lake. Snib screams and climbs me like a tree. Fine. Let them both come.(battle:"05 skrall pair result","SkrallPair",(dm:"magicSealed",true))]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightblood.png")(unless:$choice is "Fail Check")[(change_stat:"heroism",2)They come together. The left one lunges high. The right one goes for my thigh. I let the high claws take hair, not throat, and stamp the spike of my boot into the low one's wrist hard enough to pin it to the stone.(playwhenread:"hit_enemy") Whisperwind punches down through the soft place under its jaw and sticks there.(playwhenread:"stab") The high one has my shoulder before I can free the blade. So I stop trying to free it. I throw my weight sideways, using the stuck sword as a hinge, and the ledge becomes a wheel. The pinned Skrall rolls under me. The high one's claws tear loose from my shoulder as its own momentum carries it past, and I slam both boots into its ribs.(playwhenread:"hit_enemy") It goes over the edge without a sound. The lake takes it with a heavy *gloop*.(playwhenread:"splat 4") The pinned one twitches under me. I wrench Whisperwind free and drive it down again, and again, until the twitching stops. (pic:"ch05/skrall battle victory.png","I kneel with both forearms running purple blood and black oil to the elbow.") I kneel with both forearms running purple blood and black oil to the elbow, Snib still wound around my throat. "Master," I manage.($play:"song",0) (simple_option:"05 continue","'You can let go now.'")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodscared.png")($play:"song","snib dominates")It folds under the thrust, too fast, and the other one hits from the side before I can recover. (simple_option:"05 vesselmaker offering","The ledge spins under your boots.")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightblood.png")(unless:$choice is "Fail Check")[(change_stat:"heroism",2)Under its jaw the plates gape. A wet seam glints there, soft, a finger wide. *There.* I tear my forearm out from its claws.(playwhenread:"rip") They open four channels to the wrist on the way out but I don't care, my hand is loose, the grip spins in my fist and I punch the point of my sword *up.*(playwhenread:"stab") Into the seam. Under the jaw. It goes. Oil pours out of its throat over both my fists in a hot black sheet, and it pitches down the steps loose as a cut puppet, clattering,(playwhenread:"fall") twitching twice on the lower stone, still. "*HAR!* Gotcha, ye got it, ye GOT!" Something scrapes above me.(playwhenread:"tick")(simple_option:"05 second mask drops","Look up.") ](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodscared.png")($play:"song","snib dominates")(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker ledge capture","The creatures take the ledge.")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightblood.png")The pipes scrape above me.(playwhenread:"tick") The second one went up the braided pipework along the wall while I worked, and it comes down the high line at my open back, claws first, the slit of its mouth aimed at the soft nape where Snib clings shrieking. I turn. The turn belongs to a wagon. My hips heave the whole lagging weight of me around; the tits overshoot the line; my ass swings wide. For one sick half-beat, the blade points where I used to be while the rest of me is still arriving, Snib's arms throttling and my heel slithering on the oil. "YE STUPID WOBBLIN' SOW, BEHIND, *BEHIND!*" A hand lands on my ass.(playwhenread:"hit_player") It rides the bare cheek where the scale ends, claws printing the meat, and the grab hauls me back into it before I've finished the turn, my own weight working against me, my hips jammed to its slick front and that long black cock wedging hot up the cleft of me through nothing at all. *No!*(battle:"05 skrall fight one second result","Skrall",(dm:"magicSealed",true))

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodscared.png")(unless:$choice is "Fail Check")[(change_stat:"heroism",2)I let my knee go. The cuff catches the ankle and stops the skid and I drop straight down out of the grab,(playwhenread:"fall") the cock dragging off my spine as I fall under it, and I come down on the lower step facing up into the black skull as it folds over me to follow. I give it my left forearm, and the hooks bite to the bone,(playwhenread:"hit_player") and I let them. And thrust up under the jaw.(playwhenread:"stab") *Crunch.*(playwhenread:"hit_enemy") Oil sheets down over my face and my tits and I hold the thrust through every twitch of it until the twitching stops. (pic:"ch05/skrall battle victory.png","I kneel with both forearms running purple blood and black oil to the elbow.") I kneel with both forearms running purple blood and black oil to the elbow, the blade dripping in my fist, Snib still wound around my throat and shaking like a struck bell. "Master," I manage. (simple_option:"05 continue","'You can let go of my neck now.'")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodscared.png")($play:"song","snib dominates")(pic:"ch05/skrall fighter 2.png","right")(simple_option:"05 vesselmaker stair capture","The second one has you.")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightbloodscared.png")My knees go and I drop into the oil along the wall,(playwhenread:"fall") and Snib rides down with me. He doesn't let go. My chest is sawing too hard to make him. Every breath comes ragged and high and rides my tits up out of the wrecked metal, lets them fall, drags them up again, and my busted hand shakes where it's planted in the slick, and the claw-lines down my thigh have finally started to scream. Behind my shoulder blades his heart is slamming, fast and hard, over and over into my back. His breath comes wet and quick against my nape. He felt it, the same as I would have, the collar gathering itself to choke me dead and drag him down with me, and he clung to the back of his dying property in the dark. (hidden_gem:"The only warm thing down here that keeps him breathing is me, and he knows it now, in his hammering little heart, in a way no gloating ever taught him.","The collar's cold calculus is clear to him now: this captive cow is his candle, his cover, his sole scrap of living comfort in the charnel dark.") I get my hand up, slow, and lay it over his fists where they grip my throat. He flinches but doesn't pull away. My breath won't come right yet, but I find the words anyway.(simple_option:"05 continue statement","Convince him to turn back, now that he's afraid.","Ask for your magic again.","TELL him to let go.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/defeated/1.png")(if:$choice is "Convince him to turn back, now that he's afraid.")[(change_stat:"heroism",1)(change_stat:"snib",-1)"Master, listen to me, we go back up the way we..." His hand leaves my throat and dives down the front of my right cup, gets under the whole soft weight of me, and scoops my tit out into the cold air. Then he grips. Sinks all five green fingers in to the knuckle and squeezes, kneading me slow, soothing himself on a fistful of my flesh while his breath still saws wet at my nape. (pic:"ch05/snib grope tits.jpg","'...we, ngh, go back, there's a coast road, I told you, there's safer...'") "...we, ngh, go back, there's a coast road, I told you, there's safer..." The other hand frees the left one, and he hauls them up off my ribs and lets them drop, *plap*,(playwhenread:"boobslap 1") catches them, drops them again, the whole front of me bouncing while I keep trying to hold my voice flat. "...please, just..." His thumb and finger find my nipple and pinch and roll, slow and greasy, and the word folds in half in my mouth. I clamp my lip in my teeth. The sound that's climbing my throat gets to the back of my tongue. "Ngh- guh-" He stretches the nipple out and lets it snap and catches the whole tit on the bounce and slaps it side to side, *fwap, fwap,*(playwhenread:"boobslap 2") fat and slick in his palm, humming to himself. "Hh-" It gets out, just the front of it. I bite off the rest. "We're gettin' gold," he says into my ear, easy, both fists full of me. "Said we would. Gut a hundred more o' them crawlies, don't matter to Snibby. We come for gold, we leave with gold." Another slow twist, and more copper floods my mouth. "An' you're carryin' it out for me on this fat pretty back."](else-if:$choice is "Ask for your magic again.")[(change_stat:"heroism",1)(change_stat:"snib",-1)"Master, give me my magic, just one spell, I can keep us both alive down here if you only..." His hand slides off my throat and burrows down the front of the right cup, hunts under the heavy load of me, and hauls my tit out into the cold. Then he grips. Buries all five green fingers into the fuckmeat and squeezes, kneading the soft of me slow, working the shake out of his hands into a fistful of titmeat while his breath still whistles wet at my nape. (pic:"ch05/snib grope tits.jpg","'...one word, Snib, I can burn them...'") "...one word, Snib, I can burn them..." The other hand digs the left one free, and now both my fuck-pillows are out and bare and bouncing in his fists, and he heaves them up off my ribs and drops them, *plap*,(playwhenread:"boobslap 1") scoops them, drops them again, the whole soft wobbling front of me lurching in his grip while I fight to keep my voice level. "...I will not even touch you with it, I swear it, only let me..." Thumb and finger close on my nipple and pinch and roll, slow and greasy, and the word buckles in half in my mouth. I clamp my lip in my teeth. He stretches the nipple long and lets it snap and catches the whole heavy tit on the rebound and slaps it side to side, *fwap, fwap,*(playwhenread:"boobslap 2") fat and greasy across his palm, humming to himself. "Hh!" I moan. Just the front of it gets loose. I bite off the rest. "No *magic*," he says into my ear, easy, both fists full of wobbling me. "We're gettin' gold, deary. Said we would. Gut a hundred more o' them crawlies, don't matter to Snibby. We come for gold, we leave with gold." Another slow twist, more copper flooding my mouth. "An' you're carryin' it out for me on this fat pretty back."](else:)[(change_stat:"heroism",1)(change_stat:"snib",-1)"Let go of me. Now." The collar cinches a notch at my throat the instant the command comes out, choking the end of it thin. "...we are not safe sitting in the open, MOVE!" He laughs. Low and wet behind my ear, the little coward's terror curdling straight into a giggle now that I'm the one barking orders, and the hand that shook on my throat a breath ago goes loose and light there while the other dives down a cup and hauls my right tit out into the cold by the fat of it. "On your FEET, Sn- ungh!" His fist slaps it to the left. It claps off my ribs, swings back, and he slaps it right, *fwap, fwap,*(playwhenread:"boobslap 2") the whole soft weight of me knocking back and forth in his palm while my voice keeps shrinking and shrinking under the collar. "Listen to me, you little..." (pic:"ch05/snib grope tits.jpg","'Listen to me, you little...'") He pinches the nipple and twists, slow, and the moan tears straight up out of me, full and loud and ringing off the stone, and his giggle comes right behind it. "*There* she is." He twists again, rolling it between two warty fingers, and the last of my command-voice dies in my throat. "Big brave hero, killin' monsters, sings like a tavern girl when ye pull her milkers. *Hrukhrukhruk.*" He drags the whole tit up and lets it drop, *plap*,(playwhenread:"boobslap 1") and pats it like he's settling a dog. "We're gettin' gold," he says into my ear, easy as anything. "Said we would. An' you're carryin' it out for me on this fat pretty back."](simple_option:"05 respond","Make a fuss.","Shut yourself up.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/1.png")(if:$choice is "Make a fuss.")[(change_stat:"heroism",1)(change_stat:"snib",-1)He pats the tit one more time and lets it swing. "Now bend over, hero." The whiplash of it knocks the wind out of me worse than the fight did. A whimper gets loose before I can stop it, my eyes already stinging. "Master, please, I just..." "Go on. *Down.*" And I go down. (pic:"ch05/02_grope.png","I know better than to protest any more.") I know better than to protest any more. My palms find the cold oily floor and my knees follow, and the sob swells right at the top of my throat while I stare straight ahead at the two black heaps I just killed, the things that nearly bred me into the stone, steaming oil into the dark. (hidden_gem:"Behind me a goblin who was crying into the back of my neck a minute ago sinks both hands into my ass.","Behind me, the gibbering goblin gathers his gall and grinds both greedy green grips into my glistening globes.") He spreads me. Thumbs in the deep crease, hauling the cheeks apart and letting them clap shut, apart and shut, the fat of me slapping together wet. "Look at the size o' this hero-arse," he marvels, low and delighted. "Whole lotta cow back here. No wonder ye couldn't fight off two little crawlies, deary. Ye're draggin' a dump-cart o' fuckmeat round behind ye." "That isn't-" My voice is wrecked. "...that isn't why..." *WHOP.*(playwhenread:"spank 1") His palm cracks flat across the right cheek and the whole haunch jumps, claps off the left, rolls and rolls before it stills, and the tears finally spill over, hot down my face and dropping off my chin into the oil. "Ye killed 'em, sure." *SMACK,*(playwhenread:"spank 2") the left one, my back end shuddering. "Big strong hero. Killed 'em dead." He grips a handful, kneads, slaps. "Don't mean a *thing.* Ye think holdin' a sword makes ye the boss? That ye get to give Snibby orders, 'cause ye stuck a couple crawlies?" He grabs both cheeks and shakes them, jiggling the whole shelf of me side to side like he's testing fruit, and the sob breaks loose ragged and my tits swing and slap together under me. "*I'm* the boss." *WHOP.*(playwhenread:"spank yelp 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.56,"pulseMs",135,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Ye can gut a hundred more an' yer still the cow an' I still own ye. Get that in yer pretty head." "Why..." I get out, tears running into my mouth, "...why can't I have my magic, just let me..." "Don't like it." That's all. "Snib..." "Don't *like it.*" He gives the crease one last slow squeeze. "Up, miss jiggle-britches." I get my feet back under me, wobbling on the spikes, the front and back of me still rocking itself toward stillness, my face soaked. He waddles off along the ledge, and I follow, because there is nothing else in Zaelasia I can do.](else:)[(change_stat:"heroism",-1)(change_stat:"snib",1)A whimper gets out of me before I can stop it. "Bend over." I go still. Behind me he says it again, flat, no give in it, this same little goblin who clung shaking to my throat a moment ago. "Hands an' knees, hero-cow. Down ye get." My arms shake as I lower. My palms find cold wet stone and I crawl out onto all fours over the two black heaps I gutted, my face hanging an arm's length from the nearer cracked skull, my tits swinging down heavy beneath me, and something splinters high in my chest, a sob climbing for the open, and I clamp my jaw and hold it down behind my teeth. His warty hands land on my asscheeks and sink in. He grips the fat of me in both fists and spreads it, kneads it, hauls the cheeks apart and lets them clap back together, humming low and pleased, every scrap of his fear poured down into his hands now. *WHAP.*(playwhenread:"spank 1") His palm cracks across the right cheek. The whole thing jumps and rolls out from the print of him and rocks back, the far cheek shuddering in answer, and a sound punches out of my nose that I hate. "There's me hero-rump." A smack to the left, and he watches the meat clap and settle. "Big fat sit-cushion on a big brave killer. Don't that just figure." *Don't you dare touch me, you pathetic little coward, I felt you piss-scared on my back.* I say none of it. A wet, broken moan comes out instead, and I bite the rest down. "Hnn..." "*Ye* listen now." He spanks in a slow rhythm, one cheek and the next, smack, rock, smack, rock, his little hips knocking my hung tits with every swing of his arm. "Don't ye EVER get the idea in that pretty head that holdin' a sword makes ye the boss down here." *WHAP.*(playwhenread:"spank 2")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.58,"pulseMs",140,"count",1,"rest",0)) The hardest yet. My whole rump rolls forward with it and sets my tits swinging, and the tear that's been building tips off my lashes and lands on the stone between the dead one's teeth and my own. "*I'm* the boss." A slap. "No matter how many ye stick." A slap. "Snibby holds the leash, the leash holds the hero, the hero holds the sword. That's the order o' things." He grips both cheeks and jiggles the whole wobbling load of me in his fists. "Cry all ye want, deary. Don't change a thing." I press my forehead toward the cold floor and breathe, and the breath comes out shaking, and the next one worse, and the groan he draws out of me with the next slap rings clearer than the last off the dead stone, in my own beautiful ruined voice. "Whyyy," gets out of me, small and cracked. "Why won't you let me have my magic." "'Cause I don't like it." A final lazy smack, fond, the cheek rocking under his palm. "Up ye get." He hauls me up by a fistful of asscheek and I stagger to my feet on shaking legs, scrubbing my face fast with the back of my wrist before he can catch all of it, and we start around the black edge of the lake, the two dark heaps going quiet behind us.](simple_option:"05 continue lake","Continue.")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")($play:"song","desert dungeon music")($play:"ambience","quicksand") (hidden_gem:"The cavern floor is sand drifted deep, pouring in a thin endless hiss from the crack a mile overhead, pooling in the low places where the giants kneel.","Sand sifts ceaselessly from a sky-slit a mile above, sighing into soft, secret shoals around the stooping stone sovereigns.") I pick across it with my sword-hand out, reading the surface, stepping where it looks packed. A flat stone tips under my heel.(playwhenread:"tick") (pic:"ch05/quicksand initially sink.png") My right leg drops straight down to the knee before I understand it,(playwhenread:"fall sand") and the sand around it isn't sand anymore, it's something half-liquid that grips and pulls, and when I wrench back to free the leg the other sinks to match. I throw my weight toward solid ground and there is none, only more of the same, and the harder I haul the deeper it takes me, sucking at my thighs, climbing past the metal at my hips, and I stop hauling, because every pull buries me faster. "Snib." Flat, level, the last of my training holding the panic down while the grit crawls up my belly. "Get to a statue. Find me something long. A spar, a pipe. Quickly." He scrambles up onto the great fallen hand of the nearest giant, light and quick on his bandy legs, then turns and sits and looks down at me. "Ye're sinkin'," he observes. (pic:"ch05/quicksand submerged up to neck.jpg") The sand reaches my ribs and packs in under the cups, gritty and cold and everywhere at once, and my tits ride up on the rising surface of it. I keep my chin up. Aldric does not panic. "Snib. There is no time. Find a pole, a haft, anything, and reach it down to me. *Now.*" "Somethin' long, ye said." He stands up on the stone hand, grinning down, and hooks a thumb in his loincloth and flops his cock out over the edge into the air, and waggles it at me, slapping it against his own thigh. "This long enough fer ye, hero? Reach up an' grab on. *HARHARHAR.*" The noise that comes out of me isn't a word. (hidden_gem:"The grit is at my collarbone, in the seams of my throat, and I am going to drown in a sand-pit under a giggling goblin dangling his prick at me, and the tears come hot and fast and I let them, because there is nothing left to hold them for.","Dust dams my throat while death draws near, and I drown beneath a dwarfish despot dangling his dirty dick over my doomed, tear-drenched face.") "*Please.*" It tears out of me raw. "Please, Snib. Pull me out. I am begging you. *Please.*" "There it is." He crouches back down on the edge of the hand, tucking himself away, content, in no hurry at all while the sand licks at my jaw. "Knew it was in there somewhere. Now. Here's how Master pulls ye out, an' ye'll say yes 'fore that sand's in yer pretty mouth." He holds up one warty finger. "Tonight. By the fire. Ye dance fer Master. Naked as yer name-day, no slatternplates, nothin'. An' ye dance it *proper*, all happy, smilin' like ye love it, like a girl what wants to. None o' this stone-face." A second finger. "An' I'm puttin' four hundred gold back on yer debt, fer the trouble o' fishin' ye out." The sand touches my bottom lip. I tip my chin to keep it out. "Say yes, deary." His yellow eyes are bright and greedy, and he leans so far out over the edge to gloat that he has no idea how close he is to losing the only thing keeping him breathing in this dark. "Say it nice."(simple_option:"05 agree","Agree to it.","Let it take you.")

($play:"ambience","quicksand")(if:$choice is "Agree to it.")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/4.png")"Yes." The sand is on my tongue when I say it and the word grinds out around grit. "Yes. I'll dance for you. *Pull me out.*" And the wet floods my mouth at the word *dance*, before *yes* is even finished, before any part of me has agreed to a thing. Snib grins and snaps his fingers. (change_stat:"gold",-400)(change_stat:"snib",1)(change_stat:"heroism",-2)The collar bites cold around my throat and hauls, and the armor answers it, every chain and strap crawling taut at once, the cups dragging up, the hip-metal winching, the whole cursed harness reeling me out of the pit by the neck while I hang useless inside it. The sand fights to keep me. It lets go of my hips with a long wet suck,(playwhenread:"fall sand") gives up my thighs in slabs that slough off and slap back into the pit, pours from every seam of the metal in gritty streams, and I come over the lip on my belly and lie heaving in the dry drift with half the pit still sheeting off me. *WHAP.*(playwhenread:"spank 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.36,"pulseMs",105,"count",1,"rest",0)) He's down off the giant's hand, knocking the wet sand off my ass in brisk little clouds, one cheek and the next. "Four hundred gold an' a happy naked dance, fer one rope o' sand I'd've fished out anyhow." He pats me dry. "Up." I get my knees under me, shaking, spitting grit. "Ye know," he says, conversational, "ye were never much of a hero, were ye." He clicks his tongue, almost gentle about it. "Big famous Aldric, can't even spot a sinkin' pit a babe'd walk round. Lucky ye're pretty." I have no answer for that. (hidden_gem:"Far overhead the blade of noon has crept a hand's-breadth across the dark while I drowned in the floor, and the sand keeps pouring down through it, the same thin hiss it has poured three thousand years, smoothing the pit shut behind me with no sign I was ever in it at all.","Somewhere overhead, a sliver of sun slides silently onward while the sand sifts, settles, and seals my struggle smooth, swallowing every sign I was ever there.")(simple_option:"05 continue descent","Continue the descent.")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/scared/2.png")($play:"song","dungeon combat music")"No." It is not brave. It is barely even a word. It comes out with sand in it, thin and ruined, and Snib's grin drops away as he understands a half-second too late what else dies if I do. (if:$snib_satisfaction >= 4)[The grit climbs my chin. My lower lip. I shut my eyes and wait for the rest of it. It does not come. Something has me by the chain. Snib is off the stone hand and flat on his belly at the pit's edge, both green fists knotted in my collar-leash, hauling with his heels dug in and his whole face screwed up ugly, snarling in a register I have never once heard out of him. "*No ye don't. No ye THRAKKIN' don't.*" He wrenches, and the pit gives me up an inch, then two, the wet suck of it losing the argument to a goblin who has plainly decided he would sooner go into the sand himself than watch his prize sink. "Ye don't get to quit on Snibby. Ye don't get to *leave*. Yer MINE, hero. Mine to keep. Ye don't die 'til I bloody well *say*." He drags me over the lip and we both go down in the dry drift, him wheezing, me spitting grit, the pit smoothing shut behind us as if it had never opened. For one long breath he only kneels there over me, chest heaving, and something moves behind his yellow eyes that neither of us will ever put a name to. Then he catches himself doing it, and scowls, and cuffs me hard across the ear. "*Don't.*" His voice cracks clean down the middle of the word. "Don't ye ever. Up. On yer feet." He swipes at his own eyes with the back of a wrist and pretends it is sweat. "Ye still dance fer me tonight, mind. Only now ye dance it fer *free*. An' ye dance it grateful."(change_stat:"snib",-1)(change_stat:"heroism",2)(simple_option:"05 continue descent","Get up.")](else:)[(goto:"05 bad end quicksand death")]]

($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")($play:"song","desert dungeon music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/concentrated/1.png")The worked stone starts three flights down: bone-white walls painted shoulder to shoulder in oxide-red figures, two facing in, two facing out, their wrists bound, their mouths open at something above them that is no longer on the ceiling. The pigment still holds its color in the dark, which it should not. I look long enough to see the figures on the left panels have their own faces. The figures on the right panels do not. The oil-channels come next. (hidden_gem:"Shin-high slots in the base of each wall, still running, a slow amber pour that fills the passage with a substance like rendered fat and lays a shine on the floor between them.","Amber arteries along each ancient wall ooze an adipose alchemy, an age-thick animal gloss anointing the aisle between them.") Dry stone runs down the center where the channels haven't reached, three feet wide, the only walkable line that doesn't slick your boot out from under you. Something moved in the left channel. Long, low, the wake of a body going the other way. I go still. Snib walks into my back. "Wha-" My palm covers his face before the second syllable. He bites me (naturally), and I hold it anyway and watch the oil-channel until the wake smooths and the amber goes flat. I pull my hand back. A full set of toothmarks being my reward for keeping us safe. "That's gonna cost ye," he hisses. Something clicks ahead and left, stone bouncing it back twice. Close. Low. Stationary. The next twenty feet are lined with K'tarran statues set into alcoves, narrow-waisted, long-limbed, their violet-veined throats tipped forward. The gallery beyond gives cover. Between us and it, a Skrall crouches at the channel junction, skull-face down, jaw-slits working at the amber pour, tasting what the oil carries. No time to argue, I grip Snib's loincloth from behind and move. Flat to the fresco, heel-to-toe, every spike taking my full weight in slow controlled descent, my free fist jammed into my own cleavage to kill the jingle of my armor. Snib follows on tiptoe. Which I would find funny if there were an ounce of humor left in my soul. Instead, a humiliating bead of slick crawls down my inner thigh and I cannot wipe it in this position, can only go so still that it slows, and it does, hanging off the curve of me a finger's-breadth above the floor. The Skrall lifts its head. Its skull traverses the dark like something reading a page, ten feet then eight, and behind me Snib's entire shaking body presses into my spine and for once in his wretched life he isn't breathing either. Five feet. The bead drops. Hits the outside of my boot, not the stone. Silent. I feel it run. The Skrall turns back to the channel. Thirty heartbeats. Then I move us into the gallery and put a column of carved K'tarran stone between us and it. The breath that comes out of me shakes. Snib peels off my back. Opens his mouth. "Don't," I say. Barely sound. His eyes go to the oil-sheen on my inner thigh where the bead ran. His grin comes slow. He reaches. I catch his wrist. Hold his eyes. He subsides. But the look he gives my thigh on the way down says he's filing it away for later.(change_stat:"heroism",1)(simple_option:"05 reach door","The passage ends in a door.")

($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/4.png")The door at the end of the passage is tall and carved over every inch in pale figures and dried-blood reds, sealed so tight I can't catch the seam of it with a fingernail. No handle. No keyhole. (hidden_gem:"Set into the wall to the left of it, jutting out at hip height, the top half of a K'tarran man grows straight from the stone, and from his hips a cock stands out into the passage, long and smooth and pale, a single bead of amber swelling at the tip.","Planted beside the portal, a petrified pagan protrudes from the plaster, his prodigious pale prick pointing proudly into the passage with one plump pearl of perfume poised at its peak.") (pic:"ch05/statue cock.jpg","A single bead of amber swells at the tip.") Beside him, painted into the wall, a kneeling figure with its mouth open against an identical cock, and lines running from the figure's throat down into the door, branching into the works of it. "Dead end," I say, already turning him by the shoulder. "Wrong passage. We take the gallery stair down, there's another route to the deep galleries." Snib's head tilts as he looks at the painting. "This is just a tomb-face. *Come on.*" "...Wha's she at, the little painted lass." He points. "On the wall. Wha's she doin'." "Praying. It's a funeral wall. Snib, there is a Skrall forty feet behind us and we are standing in the open." He keeps looking. The collar at my throat goes faintly warm. Snib's horrid little goblin face opens into that grin. "She's *suckin'* it," he says, thrilled. "Tha's how ye open it. *HARHAR.* Tha's the key." "That is not how anything works. It's a statue, it weeps oil. Every third wall down here weeps oil, it doesn't *mean* anything..." "Then a kiss won't hurt, will it." He hops up onto the lip of the alcove, level with my face now, level with the pale stone cock, and raps the back of his knuckles against it.(playwhenread:"block") It doesn't give. It sounds solid. "On yer knees, deary. Give it a go." "No." "It's *stone*." He says it patient, like I'm the slow one. "Ain't even a real fella. Ye'll keep yer precious little mouth-maidenhead, save it fer dear ol' Snibby. *Hrukhruk.* Wha's the matter, big brave hero scared of a rock?" The bead has fattened while we argue.(simple_option:"05 kneel","Kneel.")

($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/2.png")(hidden_gem:"The pale cock juts out level with my face now, blunt and thick with a fat vein running the underside up to that swollen weeping head.","The pale pagan prick points at my parted lips, plump-veined and ponderous, its puffy peak pearled with perfumed piss-oil.") I have walked these drowned halls and stepped over the dead who built them, and now I kneel in front of one of their idols. I put my hand on it first, to push it aside, to do anything but the other thing. The balls beneath are hard as the floor, cold solid stone. But the shaft gives under my fingers, warm, yielding, soft flesh growing straight out of dead rock, and my hand jerks back. "*Hrukhruk.* Mouth, the picture says. Not yer hand." Snib's hands have already drifted to his loincloth. "This is insane." I address the cock. "It's a votive. A marriage-room carving. They probably put one in every chamber down here, it doesn't *do* any-" The bead drops off the tip onto my collarbone, warm,(playwhenread:"plop") and the smell goes off in my sinuses, and the spit floods so hard I swallow on reflex and my mouth just fills again. "Get on with it." I bring my wrist up and smear the oil off the head before another can build, and my hand comes away slick and shining, and the smell climbs onto my skin too. Somewhere behind us in the dark an oil-channel shifts and I freeze, straining, and hear nothing more. That is the worst of it. With my own wet sounds in my ears I will not hear them coming. "Snib." My voice has gone small. "Listen for me. Anything in that passage, you warn me. I need to be r- ready." "Aye, aye." He isn't listening. He's watching my mouth, and the lean in his cloth has gone to a hard jut, the head of him pushing a dark wet ring through the hide. "Open up. Show Snibby that pretty mouth earnin' its keep." I open my mouth.(simple_option:"05 statue bj slow","Take it in your mouth.")

($play:"sex loop","statue bj begin")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.07,"periodMs",1800,"forever",true))(pic:"ch05/statue bj.jpg") The head is too wide and I drag my jaw down and stretch my lips thin around the rim, cold stone meeting my tongue first and then the warmth sliding past my teeth, that fat vein on the underside hauling along the flat of my tongue, and a sound comes out of my nose I have never made. The taste of the oily secretion blooms across the back of my mouth. *Gluk.* I take an inch of it, then more, my lips dragging wet up and back down the smooth shaft, spit already running, stringing off my chin. I am red to the hairline and I can feel the heat of my own face while a goblin strokes himself a hand from my ear and a dead god's cock weeps onto my tongue. "Oooh, *look* at ye." Snib has gone up onto his toes, giggling, his fist moving now, openly. "Two o' them crawlers ye gutted, big tough killer, an' here she is slobberin' on a rock 'cause Master said. *Hrukhrukhruk.* Cheeks gone red as a smacked arse." I take it deeper because arguing with my mouth full is worse. It nudges the back of my throat and my whole body bucks around the gag, eyes stinging, drool coming off my lip in ropes, and the noise that tears out is a thick wet *glrk*that floods my own ears so completely the passage behind me goes silent to me, and that is the thought I am drowning in, that something could be crawling up on us right now and I would not know it until its claws were in my hair. "*Glrk-*" I pull off to breathe, a thread of spit snapping cold across my cheek. "Snib. Are you watching the passage? *Tell me* you are." "This is yer trainin', this is," he squeals, his breath gone quick and ragged. "Get the knack on the stone one, an' it's Snibby's turn when we're home. Wanna see what me cocksleeve's gonna do for me. Deeper, cowtits, go on, choke on it!" I go back down because I do not know what else to do. Deeper than before, the warm give fills my mouth and presses my tongue flat, my nose nearly to the cold base. The instant I bottom out, my throat flutters around the swollen head.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.18),(a:180,0.38),(a:420,0.52),(a:760,0.48),(a:1100,0.30),(a:1450,0.14),(a:1700,0)),"resumeAfter",true)) "This is not. Doing. Anything!" That's when the door creaks.(simple_option:"05 stop","Stop.")

($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/submissive/5.png")(change_stat:"heroism",-5)(change_stat:"snib",2)I rip my mouth off it and lurch upright, a rope of spit swinging from my lip to the head and snapping cold across my chin, and I jam my fingers into the widened seam of the door and haul. Boot braced on the wall, everything this soft useless body has, and the seam holds at a finger's width and gives nothing more. Snib has to grab the alcove lip he's laughing so hard. "*Hrukhrukhrukhrukhruuuuk.*" He wipes his eye with his knuckle. "Off halfway an' expectin' the door, tits-fer-brains! Look at ye, spit all down yer front, haulin' on stonework like a wet cat." He jiggles himself at me through the cloth, dark-wet at the tip and very pleased with everything. "Wouldn't open a door for ye meself if ye pulled off halfway up me sack, would I. Back *down*, piglet. Be a good girl an' drain it proper."(simple_option:"05 statue bj faster","Back down.")

(pic:"ch05/statue bj.jpg")($play:"sex loop","statue bj")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.45,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",650,"intervalTo",420,"attackMs",50,"sustainMs",65,"releaseMs",90,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.05,"intervalJitter",0.10,"depthJitter",0.05))The tears come before I'm back on my knees and I don't fight them, just let them run, because there's nothing left to hold them for. I open my mouth and take the head in and this time there are no tests, no arguments, just the work of it. I don't know what to do with my hands. One finds the stone of the idol's cold thigh and slips on the oil coating it, the other braces on the alcove floor, and I just drop my face into it and drag back and drop again, *gluk, gluk, gluk,* my jaw burning at the hinge from the girth of it, lips dragged white and thin on every downstroke, the amber spend flooding faster than I can swallow so it runs, coating my teeth, roping off my chin in long swinging strands and landing in thick drops across my chest, and the whole front of me swings with the motion, tits heavy and pendulous, swinging forward with every drop of my face and swinging back with every drag, the strand between them swinging to keep time. Snib makes a sound I've never heard from him, high and strangled, and his hand finds the back of my skull.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.42,"peakTo",0.52,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",1000,"intervalTo",850,"attackMs",85,"sustainMs",90,"releaseMs",150,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.06,"depthJitter",0.04)) "*There* she is." He drives my face down until my nose mashes against cold stone and my throat locks around the head of it and the sound that punches out of me is *GLLLLRRRK,* and he hauls me back by the hair and drives me down again, setting his own pace now, using my face in long slow shoves. "Look at them big soft suck-pillows grippn'. Got a right whore mouth an' never even knew, didn't ye." I feel it building before I see it. The shaft going hotter under my lips, the vein on the underside thickening against my tongue, pulsing in a slow heavy rhythm. A glow starts somewhere inside the stone chest, and I try to pull back, try to drag my head off it before whatever is about to happen happens... But Snib shoves my face home and holds it.(simple_option:"05 statue bj cumshot","It happens.")

($play:"sex loop","statue bj oral creampie")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.28),(a:180,0.82),(a:520,0.38),(a:1500,0.78),(a:1900,0.34),(a:3000,0.72),(a:3420,0.30),(a:4550,0.66),(a:5000,0.28),(a:6200,0.52),(a:6680,0.22),(a:8000,0.32),(a:8600,0.12),(a:9400,0))))(pic:"ch05/statue bj cumshot.png","center","borderless","The head flares wide at the back of my throat.") The head flares wide at the back of my throat and then the first shot comes,(sperm:"BLRRRRRT",4,"splurt 1 internal")a hot jelly-thick pulse that blasts straight down and I feel it hit my stomach, burning warm spreading through my belly, and I'm *GLLLUURRRK-BLRRRT*-ing around the shaft, hands scrabbling wild at the stone thighs, the second shot filling my mouth before the first is gone, lumping against my teeth, forcing between my lips in thick ropes that swing off my chin and slap my chest, and a thin hot stream burns out through my nose and runs over my top lip into my mouth, and the third shot and the fourth come while his fist holds me down on it through every pulse and flex, sitting in heavy lumps on my tongue that I have to deliberately move to swallow, and when I do swallow the warmth of it spreads all the way down, pooling, settling, mine now whether I want it or not.(playwhenread:"statue door unlock") The whole torso blazes gold. The warmth does not stop in my stomach. It spreads through the claw-marks, through my bruised ribs, through the places where panic has made a fist of me. Torn skin pulls tight. My shaking legs remember how to hold me. (sethp:$pb_hpMax,"HP refilled by the statue") And the great door grinds open. The seam gives all at once with a sound like the whole hill exhaling, ancient cold air rolling out over me where I kneel in a spreading pool of the... stuff, glowing faint and honeylike on the stone, webbing between my fingers, dripping off my chin, off my chest, stranding thick between my lips as I finally drag myself back off the shaft and try to remember how to breathe. Snib claps both hands once. "*Knew it.*" He's flushed green-dark and breathing hard and grinning every one of his rotten teeth at me. "Best key Master ever had, an' it's right there in yer pretty face." He shoves me forward through the open door by the back of my head.(simple_option:"05 chamber","Enter the chamber.")

($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/1.png")(hidden_gem:"I am spitting as I walk. Thick jelly-sweet ropes of the stuff clinging to my teeth, sitting in lumps between my gums and cheek that I have to dig at with my tongue and force out. Every three steps I lean and spit another glowing glob onto the floor and leave it there, a trail of little amber puddles behind me in the dark.","I go gagging through the gloom, gouging gluey god-spunk from my gums and gobbing golden globs behind me like a grotesque trail of breadcrumbs.") Iron bindings hang on hooks along the walls, wrist-cuffs and ankle-spreaders green with age. Pipe-joints branch from the ceiling and plunge into the floor. Clay vessels stand in niches with painted figures kneeling, mouths open, wrists crossed. A bed carved from solid rock fills the far alcove, the wrist-grooves worn glass-smooth. I keep my eyes down. My boots click and I flinch again. "Oi oi oi." Snib waddles past me and slaps my right asscheek without breaking stride,(playwhenread:"spank 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.42,"pulseMs",120,"count",1,"rest",0)) whistling through his teeth. "Stop snifflin', guzzle-guts." He hops onto a clay vessel and it rocks and he's off it onto the next shelf, light as a rat in a larder, kicking things, peering into niches. "Where's the SHINIES. Where's me gold." A vase goes off a ledge and shatters(playwhenread:"armor_break") and something dark and ancient pools out of it across the floor. "Cock-gobbler gets us through the magic door an' there's POTS! Could've stayed home an' looked at pots!" "I told you... gold..." I manage. "Was not the currency in the K'Tarran age..." I lean on the wall. My legs are shaking from kneeling that long and the heels turn the shake into a wobble, which almost sends me down twice before I get my shoulder planted against the carved stone. A hiccup comes up out of my chest and I catch it. Then another, and this one gets out, a wet ugly little cum-burp that bounces off the walls, and I press my mouth shut and breathe through my nose and the air tastes like that pagan idol I just serviced.(simple_option:"05 chamber elara","Think of Elara.")

*Elara.* The thought comes before I can stop it. Elara's mouth, the taste of her lips, warm bread and summer pollen, and this mouth just, this mouth was just... I gag again and my stomach clenches, and I double over with one hand on the wall and spit a thick amber clot onto the floor and watch it glow between my boots. My thighs press together and the heat answers between them, slow and slick and completely uninvited, and my face goes so hot I feel the flush climb past my ears into my scalp. I am sick and wet at the same time and I want to die and I cannot die because a goblin owns the leash. Snib bounces up onto the marriage-bed and sits on it and bounces twice, testing. "Nice mattress. Bit hard. Could use a cushion." He looks at my ass, looks at the stone, grins. "Already got one, don't I. *HARHAR.*" He picks up an ancient wrist-cuff off its hook and turns it over, tries it on his own arm, and it falls straight off to the floor because his wrist is the width of a parsnip. He kicks it away. "Junk." So he *does* know what junk is. I find Whisperwind with my hand. The grip sits in my palm, black leather where shagreen should be, and I close my fingers around it and the width of it serves me the other width, the stone one, warmer, thicker, the give of the flesh, the vein pulsing under my tongue, and I cannot make the comparison stop. I grip harder but it gets worse. *You used to kill dragons.* Another hiccup, wet, escaping through my nose. *You used to walk into rooms and people stood up.* The sob cracks open in my chest and comes out raw and I have to muffle it against my own forearm. "OI." A small clay cup bounces off the back of my head. "I said stop lookin' sour, slobber-queen. Ye'll curdle the air. Smile fer Master, show them pretty teeth. Still got some glow-gunk between the front ones, har har." I wipe my eyes with the heel of my palm and push off the wall.(simple_option:"05 find the book","Notice the shelf.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/disgust/1.png")(pic:"ch05/book.jpg","right")Through the wet blur, across the room, on a stone shelf between two sets of iron cuffs: a book. And pressed deep into its cover, the image of a circlet. One that looks very much like the band around my throat.(simple_option:"05 examine book","Examine it.")

(pic:"ch05/examine book.jpg","right")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/concentrated/1.png")I lift the book off the shelf with both hands. Heavy, the leather bloated with centuries of damp, the spine cracked through. The collar-image on the cover pulses warm under my thumb. I open it.(playwhenread:"page 1") (hidden_gem:"Thraan-Vek. Dense angular script I cannot read, the ink still holding its color in the dark. But between the columns, drawings. Sequential panels clear as any battle-map, and my hands start shaking before my brain has caught up.","Thraan-Vek. Dense, daggered dialect, darkly durable yet wholly indecipherable; but diagrams divide the columns, a dreadful sequence my disobedient hands decipher before my dazed mind does.") A figure wearing a collar kneels before a seated ruler. Next panel: the king speaks a glyph, drawn large, circled, repeated in the margin. Next panel: the collar opens. The figure stands free. The collar lies on the ground between them. *Master Fendril.* Fendril reads Thraan-Vek. Three years on the sovereign register before the academy shut the shelf. If I get this book out of here and into his hands...(change_stat:"heroism",2) I flip pages,(playwhenread:"page 2") fingers trembling, smearing the vellum. More panels: kings collaring rivals in Round Chambers, the loser's body rewriting itself panel by panel across the page, hips widening, waist cinching... I know what these collars were for now. You collar your enemy and unmake them and when you're done they crawl home in a shape that answers to you forever. One page shows a cross-section of a collar itself, diagrammed, each layer labeled in Thraan-Vek with a glyph beside it. I trace the opening-glyph with my fingertip. The hook at the base. The circle. The vertical line. I lower the open book onto the shelf before the ancient spine can split any further. *Schlick. Schlick. Schlick.*(playwhenread:"handjob")(simple_option:"05 book interrupted","Keep reading.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/concentrated/1.png")I do not look up at the sound. The next page shows oils listed by color with dosage marks beside... "No one wants a book, jugs." "Snib, listen to me, this is a K'tarran binding manual, if I get this to a scholar who reads the old script, it would be *extremely* valua-" "I SAID no one wants a BOOK." I turn when I hear him so close. He's on the shelf beside me, squatting, loincloth at his knees. His cock stands out over the open pages, thick and green and veined, the foreskin hauled back in his fist, the head dark and tumescent and already dilating at the slit, the pisshole yawning open, a fat pearl of yellowish pre welling up on the lip of it and trembling. He's aimed at the book. "Master, no!" "Sorry cowtits, collar says..." He grunts, his fist tightening. "...*ungh*... collar says yer not to read that. Says it's not fer pretty little book-sniffers." His grin splits his whole warty face. "Says Snibby ought to make sure." "The collar is LYING to you, it's trying to..." His whole body clenches. (pic:"ch05/cum on book.png") (sperm:"BLORRRT.",4,"splurt 4")The first rope fires out of him with a sound like a cork leaving a bottle and hits the open page across the glyph diagram, a thick steaming streak of yellowish goblin-nut that splatters on impact and sits on the ancient vellum in a raised clotted ridge. The ink beneath dissolves on contact. The vellum curls and darkens at the edges as the heat of it, nearly scalding, cooks the brushwork into spreading stain. Steam rises off the page and hits my face and the SMELL hits with it, cheese-rind and rut-musk that walks straight through my sinuses and into the back of my brain. I step back. Hands up. Do not touch it. (sperm:"SPLURRRT.",5,"splurt 2")The second rope lashes across the transformation panels, a fat clotted streak that obliterates the collar-on to collar-off sequence in one sizzling line. His cock flexes and the urethra bulges the length of the shaft before each shot, visibly, the tube fattening under the skin as each load travels up.(simple_option:"05 book interrupted ruined","He keeps going.")

"*Heeheehee!*" He's squealing now, giggling mid-orgasm, his little hips jerking. "Inky-tits thinks she's *clever!*" (sperm:"GLORRP.",3,"splurt 3")The third rope soaks through to the pages beneath and bonds them shut. A clot the size of my thumbnail lands on the shelf an inch from my hand and sits there steaming and I watch it MOVE, the thick yellowish mass crawling with its own foul motility. I pull my hand back. "Snib, STOP, you have no idea what you're dest-" (sperm:"BLRRT. SPLUT. BLRRT.",4,"splurt 6")He groans in pleasure as he releases his massive, steaming load onto the open pages, each one dissolving another diagram, another panel, another three thousand years of brushwork melting under clotted ropes of goblin cum that sit in thick ridges on the vellum and sink through. The smell fills the whole chamber now, rolling off the pages in waves, and I am backed against the far wall with my arms crossed over my chest. A rope sails past my bare stomach, missing me by an inch. I feel the heat of it pass. "*There.*" He shakes the last greasy clot onto the cover, right onto the collar-image, and tucks himself away with a satisfied grunt, the wet head leaving a smear on his belly as it goes. "Now it's worth somethin'. *HARHAR.*" (hidden_gem:"I stand across the room, shaking, watching steam rise off the ruined book. The pages are glued shut with cooling cum, the cover reeking, the opening-glyph I was tracing thirty seconds ago dissolved under a clot of goblin seed that is still visibly squirming on the page.","I stand gagging as goblin glue gums the grimoire shut, its gorgeous glyphs gone beneath greasy, grublike gouts of cooling green-skin gamete.") My hands close into fists until the knuckles go white and I feel the collar bite at my throat, a single warning cinch, and I breathe once through my nose and let them open.(change_stat:"heroism",-3)(change_stat:"snib",1) (pic:"ch05/brass collar.png","left")"Found this, though." He holds up a circlet, tarnished green at the edges, stamped with a pattern too crude to be K'tarran, made of brass. "Reckon that's gold, that is."(playwhenread:"jingle")(simple_option:"05 skrall king","I say nothing, because the room shakes.")

(pic:"ch05/vault.jpg") ($play:"song","boss combat music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/shocked/1.png")The floor heaves under my boots hard enough to knock the ruined book off the shelf into the mess on the stone.(playwhenread:"collapsing cavern") Dust pours from the ceiling. A pipe splits in the wall and amber sprays across the alcove. (hidden_gem:"Then the roar comes up through the floor and through my bones and through my teeth and it does not stop.","Then the roar rises through rock, ribs, roots, and rattling teeth, a remorseless resonance that refuses to recede.") "*RUN RUN RUN RUN-*" Snib is through the far door before I've taken a step, stubby legs pumping, and I hammer after him, heels cracking stone, the tunnel swallowing us, the roar chasing. The walls crack and oil sprays from seams and carved mouths split down their centers, and we take whatever branch isn't collapsing, and the ceiling drops away and we burst into a clearing ringed with stone pillars and I skid to a stop on dry stone and the roar settles to a hum I feel in my heels. They are already here. Three. Crouched on pillars, on rubble, in the oil-channels at the edges. Black and glistening and still. Snib goes up a pillar so fast his claws leave grooves. They spread. I am so tired and so hollowed and so far past anything I had left that when the sob comes I just let it wrack through me, let the tears and snot run, and take my stance anyway. Low, wide, Whisperwind held tight in half-sword grip. My chest is heaving and I let it heave. I have nothing left to protect and nothing left to lose and nothing left at all except this blade and a body I hate and a voice that sounds nothing like mine. But I scream with it anyway. "*COME ON!*" "Magic," I say. For once Snib does not argue. He is halfway up the pillar, claws sunk in, eyes huge. "*Fine!* Burn 'em! Hack 'em! Just keep 'em off me!" The collar loosens. (hidden_gem:"Magic comes back into my hands wrong. Not clean. Not graceful. It comes back like a scream given shape, fire under my nails and wind in my teeth and ice waiting behind my eyes.","Sorcery surges back spoiled: savage, shrieking, shaped from sparks beneath my nails, squalls between my teeth, and sleet seething behind my sight.") Good.(simple_option:"05 skrall king charge","Charge.")

(pic:"ch05/beserk.jpg","I charge, closing ten feet in four strides, shrieking through the tears.") I charge, closing ten feet in four strides, shrieking through the tears. The wrath stroke, arc wide of my chest, hips grinding the power through, and the skrall folds to dodge and I don't care, the edge catches its shoulder where the plate thins and shears through bark into wet meat and black oil sprays hot across my face. "*THRAKKING DIE!*" It lunges, both arms wide for the grab, but I drop below. My thighs burn, and the claws comb the air over my head. Short grip, tight thrust, I stab Whisperwind up through its belly from below, and my fist sinks in after the blade to the wrist. I feel guts part around my knuckles. The blade won't come free. Dead weight trapping it, the other two closing fast, and I stamp my boot into its ribs and HAUL and the steel rips loose trailing something black and ropy and I stagger back, sobbing, arms shaking, fingers slipping on the oiled grip. Two rushing together. Arms wide. "*COME ON COME ON COME ON!!!*" Box pattern, short snapping cuts, all wrist, forearm speed. First slaps claws aside, *clang.* Second slaps the other's grab wide. Third opens the nearer one's forearm wrist to elbow, the meat peeling back from the cut in a wet flap, and it hisses and recoils spraying oil. But the third gets my hair from behind and yanks. My whole body jerks backward and the sob turns to a shriek and I GO with it, let my weight fall into the pull, stamp my heel through its foot, hear the crunch, pivot on the planted spike into its body and drive Whisperwind backward under my own arm into its ribs. My hips grind the thrust home and I feel ribs snap around the blade, one, two, and it buckles and the fist in my hair goes slack and pulls free trailing black strands of my own hair with it. "*GET OFF ME!*" Only the one with the split forearm is left, oil pouring from the flap, circling low. I inhale. Elara's face in the morning. Everything, everything, everything gone. I throw the spin. Full rotation, spike heel biting dry stone, and it HOLDS, and I come around with every ounce of this heavy wide body behind the arc, hips leading, the blade a half-beat behind, and the momentum that used to throw me face-first into the dirt carries the edge clean through its throat. The head spins off into the dark. The body stands with oil sheeting from the stump and then drops. I stand in the middle of the three heaps with the blade dripping and my whole body shaking so hard my teeth chatter. "*Hhhhhh... hh... hhh...*" More clicking. Getting louder. Many more. And something else. Something heavy, dragging as it walks, breathing like a worked bellows, and the red glow that comes before it down the passage fills the tunnel wall to wall. *Thoom.* The floor shakes. *Thoom.*(simple_option:"05 skrall king fight","The Skrall King steps into the clearing.")

(pic:"ch05/skrall king.jpg")($play:"sound","skrall king")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightblood.png") The Skrall King steps into the clearing and the lesser ones pull back to the walls and crouch and go still. They form a circle to watch. A Skrall "King," of which I have only heard tales, is a morphological variant of Skrall that forms by the group's selection over the course of time. Its body is bigger, stronger, and more calcified than its "subjects." (hidden_gem:"More than twice my height, it is crusted in layers of old oil gone hard as black lacquer, and the club it drags behind it is tipped in a lump of carved K'tarran foundation-stone, heavy enough to leave a groove in the floor as it walks. Its eye-pits burn dull red. The sound of its breath fills the space like a bellows being worked.","Gargantuan and grease-glazed, it grinds forward in generations of glassy grime, dragging a grave-marker club that gouges the ground; garnet eyes gutter while its great lungs groan like a god's forge.") I grip Whisperwind in both hands and scream at it. The fire is still mine. It never went anywhere, and some animal corner of me knows it, coiled behind my sternum, hot and ready and utterly forgotten the second that red gaze found me. Aldric never had to remember he had a sword arm. His body simply was one. Mine has not had time to become a body that remembers it can burn things, and against something this size, a beast this old, my hands close on steel because steel is the only truth this body has ever fully believed. This is it. Even with magic, I don't have a *chance*. The club comes down one-handed. I throw myself sideways and it CRATERS the stone where I stood,(playwhenread:"collapsing cavern") chips spraying, the shockwave buzzing up through my heels into my knees. The sound of it bounces off every wall. I'm already moving, circling, heels clicking fast on the dry stone. "*Kha... thurren...*" Its voice fills the clearing, low and guttural, sounds that roll like something being dragged over gravel. It lifts the club out of the crater it made and sweeps it horizontal, one-armed, clearing the whole space at chest height. I can't outrun it. I go forward, under the arc, so close its heat rolls over my bare skin and its cock bumps my hip, and I drive Whisperwind at the gap between its ribs. The blade skates off the lacquer and throws sparks,(playwhenread:"block") accomplishing nothing. The mighty beast backhands me across the clearing.(playwhenread:"hit_player") I hit the ground rolling,(playwhenread:"fall") tits taking the floor first, chin second, and skid through oil and grit with my hair in my mouth. I get a knee under me and spit blood and get up. "*HYAAH!*" I scream again, just to hear my own voice, just to know I'm still alive, at least for a few more seconds. At least, this is a warrior's death. A death that took place before my mind was claimed by goblin pheromones. *At least there is some honor in that.* The ring of lesser Skrall clicks softly, but none move. They all are wise enough not to get between their King and his prey. The club comes down again, overhead, and I get the blade up and catch the haft,(playwhenread:"block") riding it, letting the force of it carry my edge along the club-shaft in a shower of sparks, and as I slide I cut, opening a long wet gash down its body where the lacquer has cracked from age. The King ROARS. The red in its eye-pits flares hot and bright. Then it comes again, faster, shorter chops, angrier, the club cutting the air in tight arcs I can barely track. I'm backing up, heels hammering, my whole body just trying to stay ahead. "*...vekt... thraal...*" It barks the sounds between swings, rhythmic, almost a cadence.(simple_option:"05 king pinned","He catches you.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fight/1.png")The King reads the next exchange before I finish making it. My foot slips on a black smear of oil and the club catches Whisperwind's guard hard enough to numb both hands.(playwhenread:"block") The blade stays with me, barely, but the blow folds my arms against my own chest and sends me skidding backward on my heels. I hit a pillar shoulder-first.(playwhenread:"fall") Stone cracks behind me. The ring of lesser Skrall clicks faster.(playwhenread:"stab") I try to reset. I try to breathe. The King does not give me either. It crosses the distance in one dragging stride and drives the haft across my ribs,(playwhenread:"hit_player") pinning me to the pillar with my boots kicking inches above the floor. The sword is trapped between my body and the wood. My free hand claws at the haft and slips in my own blood. It leans in close. (hidden_gem:"The red fills my whole field of vision. Its breath rolls over my face, copper and old meat, and it says something so low I feel it in my sternum more than hear it.","Burning pits blot out my sight while its butcher-breath billows over me, blood-bright, beef-rotten, and its buried basso beats against my breastbone.") "*Tharra... kel... maat.*" I can't breathe. The haft is crushing my lungs flat and the edges of my sight are going grey and my legs are kicking slower and my fingers are slipping and I can hear Snib whimpering somewhere up the pillar behind me. Then I hear Snib again. Small. Terrified. The words cracking in his mouth like something he's been clenching between his teeth since we walked through the Head. (pic:"ch05/skrall king attack.jpg") "Use it, cow-tits!" I hear Snib through the billows of sand and dust. "Yer magic!" All day the word *no* has come out of him flat and certain, a thing recited rather than chosen. This one is torn out of him raw. Whatever has been riding him since the Head has no answer for a terror this size, and for one cracked heartbeat the real Snib claws back up through it, and the real Snib wants to live. His scream is the only thing that could have reached me. Not permission. A slap. It finds the coiled, forgotten thing behind my sternum and shakes it loose, and I remember, all at once, with the haft crushing the last of the air out of me, that I have always had a second sword. The power already loose in my hands finds fire.(simple_option:"05 ignisurge","'Ignisurge!'")

(set:$pb_form to "elise")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png")<span class='fire'>"IGNISURGE!"</span>($play:"sound","spell_fire_elise") My palm is six inches from its face and the torrent pours out of me white and screaming, a held stream hammering into the skeletal ridges of the King's skull while the haft still pins me to the pillar. Three thousand years of layered oil goes up across its face and neck and chest, and I hold the pour and SCREAM through the roar of it, my arm shaking, my palm blistering, tears boiling off my cheeks, hair whipping. (pic:"ch05/skrall king burn.jpg") "*YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! EVERYTHING!*" The words are not aimed at the King, though he bears the brunt of my fury. (battle:"05 fight the king","SkrallKingBurning",(dm:"magicSealed",false,"berserk",true))

($play:"song","boss combat music")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightblood.png")(pic:"ch05/skrall king burning.jpg") (if:$choice is "Fail Check")["*BURN! ALL OF YOU! EVERY LAST ONE!*" The cracked pillar. I swing my palm. "*VENTUSFURY!*"(playwhenread:"spell_wind_elise") The blast hits the pillar and it TOPPLES,(playwhenread:"collapsing cavern") tons of carved stone grinding off its base and swinging down toward the burning King. This is the kill. This is over. But the skrall king catches it in one massive hand. The pillar stops in its grip, stone dust pouring off the fracture, flames licking across its scorched skull. It holds it for one long breath. Then throws it sideways into the ring where it crushes something that screams and stops.(playwhenread:"hit_enemy") "*GLACIESHOLD!*"(playwhenread:"ice magic") Ice spike from the ground aimed up through the cracked plate, but the King steps aside. "No- no no no-" The creature drops and drives its burning skull into the sand drift at the edge of the clearing. Steam erupts white. The flames hiss and die. When it rises the lacquer is scorched to charcoal but the fire is gone and the red in both pits burns brighter than before. "*Thun. Kra. Vekt.*" It walks toward me. I throw fire.(playwhenread:"fire spell") The stream comes thin and guttering, my palm splitting open, blisters popping wet across my fingers, the smell of my own skin cooking filling my nose, and I hold it screaming and the King lifts its stone club and walks through my fire. The stone drinks the heat. The stream parts around the weapon and licks harmless across its shoulders and it does not even slow. "*VENTUSFURY!*"(playwhenread:"wind magic") Straight into its chest. And the blowback catches ME, a hundred and twenty pounds on spike heels on slick stone, and I skid backward three feet with my hair whipping into my face and the King sways and keeps coming. The club sweeps low. Takes both legs.(playwhenread:"hit_player") The stone floor hits my spine and the back of my skull at the same time(playwhenread:"fall") and everything goes white then grey and the breath I need won't come. I reach for Whisperwind. My fingers find the grip. A massive foot stamps down on the blade.(playwhenread:"armor_break") The steel bends and the grip rips out of my hand and the King kicks it into the dark and I hear it clatter and spin until the sound stops.(playwhenread:"whisperwind sliding") I lift my palm off the ground. Blistered, split, shaking. Push everything through it. A tongue of orange crawls across the King's shin and goes out. My hand drops, empty. The King tips its scorched skull back and ROARS, and the roar is an order. A Skrall peels from the ring and scuttles toward Snib's pillar and begins to climb, and I can hear him screaming up there, his voice cracking apart. The King's hand wraps around my ankle. It turns and walks toward the tunnels dragging me behind it,(playwhenread:"trip and fall") my bare back scraping grit, my armor jingling with every bump, my tits lurching with the drag, my fingers clawing white lines into the stone. The dark takes my feet first. Then my knees. Then hips. The last of the amber firelight on the ceiling shrinks to a slit above me.(simple_option:"05 skrall king defeat","Then that goes too.")](else:)[The haft loosens. The beast staggers back trailing fire from every joint, wreathed head to foot, and the club swings blind and craters a pillar beside my skull, and I drop free and hit the ground and roll(playwhenread:"fall") and come up with my smoking hand already aimed at the floor. The oil channels.($play:"sex loop",0) All the way down I did not dare spare a spark, for fear of cooking us both in the grease. Up here on dry pillared stone, in the open at last, the thing I was most afraid of becomes the only friend I have. I pour fire into the nearest carved groove(playwhenread:"fire spell") and (hidden_gem:"the amber catches like a fuse, racing along the channels, splitting, branching, the whole carved floor lighting up in a web of flame that cuts the clearing in two. Three Skrall on the wrong side go up shrieking, burning, scrabbling over each other for the tunnels.","fire flies through the filigreed floor, forking into a furious fretwork of flame; three foul things flare, flail, and flee in a frenzy of frying flesh.") "*VENTUSFURY!*"(playwhenread:"wind magic") The cracked pillar. I hit it with a concussive blast and it TOPPLES,(playwhenread:"door explode") the whole carved column grinding down across two Skrall trying to flank through the flames. The crunch underneath is wet. "*COME AND GET IT!*" The King is burning but still standing, the massive fucker. Swinging the club in blind arcs, lurching through its own flames. Three thousand years of being on top of its subterranean food chain, it probably doesn't believe it *can* die. "*GLACIESHOLD!*"(playwhenread:"spell_ice_elise") I wait for the overhead swing, step past it, and drive a spike of ice through the cracked chest-plate. It punches through fractured lacquer, body, and shoulder blades. Fire meets ice inside it; the CRACK is a tree splitting,(playwhenread:"ice magic") steam and frozen shrapnel spraying while the red flares in the pits once, twice. "*STAY. DOWN.*" It falls forward and the impact shakes the floor.(playwhenread:"collapsing cavern") The survivors flee trailing fire into the tunnels, leaving burning oil-prints on the stone behind them.(change_stat:"heroism",5)(simple_option:"05 chain swing","Find the way out.")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/angry/1.png")Up. The ceiling crack is visible through the smoke, that blade of daylight flickering orange. "Snib! They'll be back! Call my leash! Make it long, NOW!" He fumbles something to the collar and the curse-chain unspools from my throat, twenty feet of dark links clattering to the stone. "*GLACIESHOLD!*"(playwhenread:"ice magic") A spike into the rock face at the ledge's lip fifty feet up, thick as my arm, frozen into stone, carries and fuses the end of my chain. I grab Snib off the pillar and tuck him under my arm. "*VENTUSFURY!*"(playwhenread:"wind magic") Straight down. The blast launches us and the chain catches on the ice-spike and BITES into my throat with our combined weight and we SWING, the whole burning room wheeling below, my stomach in my mouth, Snib howling, the arc carrying us up through smoke and heat toward the ledge. At the top I kill the wind and we hit stone and roll,(playwhenread:"fall") gasping. Snib goes over the edge. Both hands on my ankle. Thirty feet of burning cavern below him, his yellow eyes huge and wet, his whole warty body dangling off the end of me, and I lie on my belly with my chin over the drop looking down at him. My ankle in his grip. The fire below throwing his shadow huge and shaking on the wall. One kick. The collar chokes me dead three seconds later. We burn together and Elara never knows what happened. "*E- Elise.*" His voice cracks for the first time since I've known him.(simple_option:"05 pull up","Pull him up.","Let him go.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightblood.png")(set:$se_to_stop to "skrall king")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(if:$choice is "Let him go.")[For one breath I let the thought happen. My ankle hangs in his grip. The fire below paints his terrified face orange. I could kick once. The collar would choke me dead three seconds later, but for those three seconds there would be justice in the world. Then the metal at my throat tightens, warning, and Elara's face cuts clean through the smoke. No. Not like this. (change_stat:"heroism",2)(change_stat:"snib",-1)My hand closes on his wrist.](else:)[(change_stat:"heroism",1)My hand closes on his wrist because I am a *hero* and refuse to indulge in anything that will leave Elara widowed over one moment of catharsis.] I haul Snib over the lip and he hits the ledge on his belly,(playwhenread:"fall") wheezing, and for a long time there is only our breathing and the orange glow from below fading to black. I melt the ice-spike loose, and Snib calls the curse-chain home. The links whip across the ledge and reel into the collar until the last one snaps out of sight. We climb through the crack, up through rubble and sand, and when the desert light hits my face I close my eyes and stand in it with my arms hanging and the dry wind stripping the oil-stink off my skin. Snib whistles through his broken teeth and Jarkrond comes trotting from wherever sensible animals wait out goblin treasure-hunts. "There." Snib holds the tarnished circlet up between two warty fingers and turns it in the sun, grinning. "Worth every bit o' the trip, weren't it." He is himself again. That is the thing I notice, standing in the clean killing light with the Head at my back. (hidden_gem:"The fever has gone out of him. He is not straining toward the dark anymore, not tipping his head at a sound only he could hear. He is only a greedy little goblin turning a scrap of green brass in the sun, certain to his bones that every step of today was his own bright idea.","The fever flees him at the threshold. No faraway frequency fetters him now; only the familiar, flatulent fool fondling a fleck of false gold and flattering himself for finding it.") Whatever walked him down there let go the moment we cleared the mouth. It got what it came for. And I cannot stop looking at the tarnished band pinched between his fingers, too crude to be worth a copper, stamped with a pattern I have seen exactly once before. Inked large across a page he cooked to ruin not an hour ago. A circlet. A little sister to the one welded shut at my throat. I open my mouth to tell him what he is carrying out of that place. The collar warms against my neck, soft as a palm laid over a mouth, and I close it again. I drag myself up onto Jarkrond's bare back, pulling the horrid goblin up after me. The desert horse's hot spine grinds straight up between my inner thighs and the first stride hits before I've found my seat, and everything I have goes up and comes back down all at once, *THWAP*,(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 1") my asscheeks smacking the horse's back and spreading wide and bouncing once before they settle, my whole jounce-rack surging forward out of the skimpy armor on the upswing and clapping back with a meaty *plap* on the down, the left one lagging a half-beat behind the right and arriving home a full wobble late. *SMACK.*(playwhenread:"spank 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.44,"pulseMs",115,"count",1,"rest",0)) Snib's palm cracks across the bare right cheek and the whole shelf of it ripples forward and back and the left one answers in sympathy, two full wobbles before either settles. "Lookin' forward to tonight," he says into the back of my neck, contented. "Don't ferget." I grip Jarkrond's mane and stare at the horizon as I think about my "promise". What does a promise even matter? We ride.(simple_option:"05 ride home","Ride back under the red sky.")

($play:"song",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/special/fightblood.png")(pic:"ch02/hut.jpg")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.16,"peakTo",0.22,"baseFrom",0.04,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",1000,"intervalTo",1000,"attackMs",45,"sustainMs",35,"releaseMs",130,"rampBeats",1,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.08,"depthJitter",0.04))The desert goes gold, then copper, then red, and Jarkrond's stride works through me the way it always does, except worse, because every hooffall throws me up off his spine and brings me down again,(playwhenread:"desert horse") and on the up my whole front leaps and pours forward out of the skimpy black armor and on the down my bare asscheeks clap flat against Snib's lap and ride a slow grinding circle over his stones and the fat length of him before the next stride peels me up off it again. Up. Clap. Grind. Up. I have become the thing that polishes a goblin's cock the whole way home, one stride at a time, and I grip Jarkrond's mane and stare at the horizon and count. The four claw-channels down my thigh are pink seams now, nearly shut. The club-bruise across my ribs is a yellow ghost. My split lip has sealed, the burned meat of both palms gone tender and new. The collar mends what it owns. But other parts of myself are changing too. My inner thighs are spreading wider on the horse than they did at dawn. Not muscle-spread, softness-spread, new give that wasn't there this morning flattening warm and broad against Jarkrond's spine. The skimpy armor has swallowed another full finger of hip on both sides, the metal biting into fresh swell that has risen to meet it. And when the next stride launches me up I look down and two pale overspilling fuckpillows of myself surge up over the top of the armor's black triangles and do not fully retreat, sitting swollen and new above the scale-line a clear thumb higher than they sat when I dressed this morning, the chain between them resting in a deeper groove because there is simply more pressing in from both sides. (pic:"ch05/bigger tits.png","right","Are these changes due to the amber I swallowed off that idol, still sitting hot and thick somewhere low in my belly? Or the collar's price for closing my wounds?")I reach back with one hand. My palm sinks into an asscheek that is heavier, broader, softer, the new flesh sitting warm and strange under my own fingers, spilling over my hand where it used to fit neatly. Both cheeks now overhang Snib's thighs on either side of his lap when I land. I am sitting on him the way a woman sits on a wide chair, except the chair is a massively-hung goblin and the chair is very pleased about it. Are these changes due to the amber I swallowed off that idol, still sitting hot and thick somewhere low in my belly? Or the collar's price for closing my wounds? I cannot tell where one ends and the other starts, and that not-knowing is its own small horror, because it means I don't know how much more of me there will be by the time we stop. Behind me, Snib's hands find it before I've finished the thought. Both of them, climbing my sides, taking the new overspill where the armor surrenders it, his knobbled fingers sinking in to the knuckle and rolling the fresh fullness like dough. "*Oho.*" He hauls one up off my ribs and lets it drop(playwhenread:"boobslap 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.25,"pulseMs",130,"count",1,"rest",0,"resumeAfter",420)) and catches the bounce. "Bit more cow on the cow, ain't there." He weighs them, one in each fist, jouncing them on Jarkrond's stride. I grip the horse's mane and watch the horizon. His fingers stay sunk where they are, his loincloth-wrapped nuts rolling warm against my clapping buttcheeks with every stride, and ahead of us the crooked shape of his hut lifts out of the dunes against a sky gone bruise-purple.(simple_option:"05 dusk falls","Dusk falls.")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/defeated/1.png")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/defeated/1.png")(set:$se_to_stop to "desert dungeon music")(display:"stop sound effect fade")($play:"song","desert dance") (hidden_gem:"Snib's hut rises out of the horizon like a growth on the dead olive tree, the hide-flap door shifting in the evening wind. Almost home. Almost safe, if that word means anything anymore.","His hovel hunches on the horizon, a hideous hernia on the half-dead olive, its hide-flap hissing hello in the heatless evening. Almost home. Almost harmless, if either hollow word holds meaning now.") A fat desert grouse is sitting stupid in a thornbush three feet off the track, head tucked under its wing. Snib's belly growls against my spine, long and wet and elaborate. I brace for it. The bow. The stalk. Hunting game in heels with my tits swinging while he watches from the shade. "Go on then," he grumbles. "Quick. Just the bird." I turn my head. He means magic. The collar pulses warm and the permission floods in and I breathe out the smallest thread of Ignisurge,(playwhenread:"fire spell") just a whisper of it, a controlled trickle aimed at a sleeping bird, and the grouse goes up in a neat bright gout and drops smoking onto the sand. "*HA!*" Snib slaps my hip.(playwhenread:"spank 2")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.38,"pulseMs",110,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Fresh-roasted! Saves the pot, don't it! *Hrukhruk.*" The collar goes cold. "Right. That's enough o' that." I slide off Jarkrond and my heels sink into cooling sand and every step to the thornbush reminds me what's changed, the new heft swinging under the armor, my asscheeks clapping together with an extra softness that wasn't there this morning, the whole of me bouncing and settling and bouncing again across twenty paces of desert. I pick up the smoking bird and walk back with my face burning. Inside the hut: old fur, rancid tallow, the stink of him soaked into every surface. The trophies on the walls, the smallclothes, the hair. The crusted furs. The bucket. ...home.(simple_option:"05 dinner","Cook the bird.")

($play:"song","desert dance")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/defeated/1.png")I sit on the straw and pull charred feathers off the carcass, the singed ones sticking to the meat and the good ones tearing the skin, but the smell underneath the char hits my empty stomach and it clenches so hard my mouth floods. I hold the whole bird out to him when it's clean, the way I've been trained over the course of the days. His food: his property cooked it. I get the scraps afterward. He takes it. Tears it down the breastbone with both hands. Then holds half back out to me. I stare at it. "Eat, prize sow." He shoves the portion into my hand. "Fatten up them udders. Need ye in good shape fer later, don't I." So we eat. He sits on his furs with his back against the wall and his eyes never leave my chest, watching my tits shift and bounce in the firelight with every bite I take, every swallow, every breath. The grouse tastes incredible. Charred skin, tender underneath, hot fat running down my chin. I am so hungry it hurts and I eat the bones clean and suck the marrow and try not to think about the fact that this is the closest thing to kindness my goblin master has shown me. He tosses his bones into the corner and leans back and laces his warty fingers behind his head. "Ye spent too long swingin' that sword today, prize sow." He says it lazy, satisfied, his cock fattening slowly in his cloth as the firelight catches it. "Fightin' an' screamin' an' carryin' on like ye're still some big hero. Need to remember what ye're really *for*." His yellow eyes find mine. "Don't ye." I get up to start the fire properly, because it gives me something to do with my hands that isn't strangling him, and because every minute I spend banking coals and arranging kindling is a minute I'm not dancing naked for a goblin in a deset shack. He settles deeper into his furs and watches me work, his cock now fully hard and tenting the loincloth, one warty hand resting on it. "Take yer time with them coals, juicy." His grin splits the dark. "Snibby ain't goin' nowhere. An' neither are you."(simple_option:"05 the dance","The fire is ready.")

($play:"song","desert dance")(pic:"ch03/night remove bra.jpg","My tit drops with a wet *slap* against my ribs.")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/2.png")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")The fire pops and sends sparks up through the smoke-hole and I stand in the orange of it where he told me to stand, facing him across the room where he sprawls with his loincloth already at his knees and his hand loose around the base of the thing between his legs. I reach behind my back for the clasp. My fingers shake. The scale triangles come away and my tits drop. (hidden_gem:"The whole dense weight of both of them falling at once, *FLOP-slap*, heavy enough to pull my shoulders forward as they hit my ribs and bounce, settling slow and bare in the firelight, the new fullness spilling wider and rounder than this morning, the pale underswell sitting deep enough to cast its own shadow.","Both breasts break free with a brutal *FLOP-slap*, fat, fresh-swollen flesh falling forward, floundering against my frame, then finally settling in the firelight with full underswells folding their own shadows.")(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 2")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.32,"pulseMs",160,"count",1,"rest",0)) My nipples stiffen in the cool air and a hitch of breath catches in my throat before I can swallow it. Snib's cock jumps. The whole crooked green length of it lurches off his thigh as if yanked by a string, the loose foreskin rolling back on its own, the fat purple head pushing free and swelling out dark and shining, and a thick bead of yellowish pre blooms at the slit and oozes down the underside toward his balls. The shaft throbs with a pulse I can see travel the full twelve inches from root to tip. "Ohhhh, that's it, sword-slut." His yellow eyes have not blinked. "Keep goin'."(simple_option:"05 undress for dance","Keep going.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/humiliated/2.png")($play:"song","desert dance")I hooked my thumbs in the drakeslip at my hips hours ago, it feels like. In truth it has been three breaths, and in those three breaths his musk has found me in the enclosed space of the hut, the thick goblin-funk that fills a three-foot radius around him rancid and male and sweet underneath in a way my body reads before my brain does. I can feel the things getting worse between my legs. (pic:"ch05/dance begin.jpg") I finally peel the armor down.(playwhenread:"remove thong")(change_stat:"heroism",-2)(change_stat:"snib",1) (hidden_gem:"The metal clings. The inside is coated in a thick glossy film I can see, soaked through, and when I drag it off my cunt a long silky strand of slick stretches from the drenched metal to my bare lips, translucent and glistening in the firelight like spun honey, thinning, holding.","The scale sticks, slicked through with a shamefully sumptuous sheen, and as I strip it from my sopping slit a silken strand stretches, shining like spun sugar, slendering but stubbornly staying.")"Hnn-" The whimper escapes through my nose. *Snap.* The strand breaks and recoils onto my inner thigh and sits there shining, and the smell of my own arousal rises up and meets me, night-jasmine and rosewater. His cock throbs again at the sight of me bare, and the slit yawns open and spits a fat rope of pre that swings off the head and splatters his own belly. His fist closes around it, and the head flares out purple-black past his knuckles and another bead chases the first down into the greasy thatch of his pubic hair. "Look at ye." His voice has dropped to something almost reverent in its cruelty. "Killed a big ol' beastie today, didn't ye. Burned him alive with fire out of yer little hands. Stuck his boys like pigs. An' here ye are, drippin' all down yer thighs fer a little gobbo." His thumb works the underside of the head in a slow circle and I watch it pulse and darken.(playwhenread:"dance begin masturbate") I killed a Skrall King today. I drove ice through its chest. "What if yer wifey saw ye this soakin'?" he says, easy, smiling, and the word hits me in the sternum like a fist. "Bet ye never stood in front of pretty little Elara with slop runnin' down yer legs an' yer fat udders out an' yer nipples so stiff. Did ye, Mrs. Hero?" My throat has closed: couldn't say anything if I wanted to. "Nah." He strokes himself root to tip, and the cock answers with a belch of cloudy pre that runs over his fingers in a warm sheet. "She got the hero. The big man. The goblin-killer." Another stroke, another throb, the shaft so engorged now the veins stand out like cords. "Snibby gets the tits. The cunt. The big jiggly arse. All the bits the hero never had an' the wife never got to play with." He giggles. "Funny how that works, innit." The fire crackles and I stand there and the wetness is running, a slow trickle down my left inner thigh that catches the heat of the flames and I can feel it and I know he can see it and his cock lurches sideways off his belly at the sight, slapping his thigh, leaving a wet print, and standing back up quivering. "Ye promised," he says. "Happy. Smilin'. Like a girl who wants to." He leans back into the furs and his cock stands straight up out of his lap, twelve inches of thick green meat with a purple head that weeps a steady trickle now, pooling in the folds of his foreskin and drooling over. "And I *won't* be happy if ye don't keep yer promises. I might not keep mine." I close my eyes. Open them.(simple_option:"05 try to dance","Try to dance.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")($play:"sex loop","handjob")I start with what I know.($play:"song","desert dance") A shift of weight from the back foot to the front, a pivot. The hip rotation comes because that's what this body does, the wide-set pelvis grinding a slow arc the way it grinds when I cut. But there's no blade in my hands and without it the motion is something else entirely, just a naked woman rolling her hips in front of a fire. My asscheeks clap together behind me. *WHAP.*(playwhenread:"spank 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.34,"pulseMs",100,"count",1,"rest",0))($play:"sex loop","dance begin masturbate") I freeze. The sound fills the hut, loud and fleshy and unmistakable. The goblin's cock jumps off his thigh at it, the head swelling darker, my own body applauding the first movement I made. "That's just standin' with a wobble. Move." I uncross my arms and my tits fall free against my ribs, the full new weight of them settling, and I roll my hips in a slow circle the way I have seen the girls at the Gilded Flagon do it, trying to detach the movement from anything I learned holding a sword. Too fast. My tits swing hard on the first revolution and smack together, *plap*,(playwhenread:"boobslap 1") and I flinch at the sound of my own body. (vid:"img/ch05/dance shake tits.mp4","right")I go slower, and the flesh responds differently when I give it time,(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.10,"amplitude",0.06,"periodMs",2400,"forever",true)) everything has time to TRAVEL now, the wave starting in my hips and rolling up through my waist and pouring out through my chest, and behind me my asscheeks go through a full cycle I can feel and hear: the clench, the spread, the clap, the wobble, the long soft settle before the next rotation starts it again. *WHAP.*(playwhenread:"spank 2") *Wobble-wobble-wobble.* Settle. "Slower." His fist tightens and the purple head bulges through his grip and a fresh bead of pre oozes out and runs. "SLOWER. I wanna hear them ass-pillows, nice an' loud. One. At. A. Time." I slow until each revolution takes a full breath, giving every bounce room to bloom and die. In the quiet hut, I hear the soft meaty *whap* of my asscheeks kissing, the heavier *plop* of my tits finishing their pendulum a beat behind, and beneath them, the wet sound of my thighs shifting. I pray he misses it. Of course he doesn't. *The collar would make me do worse. He could order anything. This is the smallest thing. Just move, just give him enough to finish and it stops.* "Ye're doin' it with a face like a funeral," he says, lazy, stroking root to tip, the shaft so slick now his hand glides. "Smile, I said. An' say somethin' nice fer Master."(simple_option:"05 dance words","Smile and say it.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/1.png")($play:"sex loop","dance begin masturbate")(pic:"ch05/dance twirl.png","left")Force the smile onto my face feels like cracking plaster. "Thank you..." My voice comes out breathy and musical and wrong. "...Master." "Fer what." His cock spits a fat bead. "Say it proper." "Thank you for... um, letting me dance for you." "More." I close my eyes. Open them. Keep the hips moving. "Thank you for letting me dance for you. I..." The word sticks. "I like it." "*Heeheehee!*" His giggle fills the hut and his cock lurches sideways and slaps his thigh and stands back up quivering. "She LIKES it! Elise likes shakin' her fat arse fer a goblin! Say it again, say 'I like dancin' fer Master.'" "I like dancing for Master."(change_stat:"heroism",-3)(change_stat:"snib",1) "Louder." "I like dancing for Master." My face is on fire. My eyes are burning. The smile is still there, stretched and horrible, and my hips are still grinding, and the heat between my legs is not a trickle anymore, it's a slow steady leak I can feel running warm down my inner thighs with every rotation, and my nipples are so stiff they ache, and his cock has tracked every single one of these events with a throb or a lurch or a spit, reading my body's mutiny and responding to it like a creature answering a mating call. Which isn't all that far from what it is. "Bet yer wifey would cry if she could see ye now, wouldn't she." He says it soft, grinning up at me, his eyes half-shut, his fist working. And for three full revolutions my body takes over and I stop thinking about it entirely, the hips going automatic, the wave rolling smooth from belly to chest to ass, the flesh bouncing on its own schedule, and I realize I am moving WELL, moving the way the Flagon girls move. "Don't ye dare stop," he says.(simple_option:"05 dance continue","Continue.")

($play:"sex loop",0)(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",2600,"forever",true))(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")(vid:"img/ch05/dance twerk.mp4") I don't stop. The wave rolls on its own, belly to chest to hips, and my tits surge forward on every crest and *SLAP* back on the fall, heavy and swinging with a momentum that hauls my whole upper body after them. Then I slow the grind. My hips take a full shuddering breath per revolution, and everything blooms: the asscheeks spread on the out-roll and *CLAP* shut on the in, their fat rippling, while my tits pendulum through a long, heavy arc that tugs at my collarbones. My thighs shift weight. *Schlup.* My inner thighs peeling apart. In the quiet of the hut that sound is a verdict. I keep the hips moving. "Ohhh, FUCK me," Snib breathes from the furs. His cock kicks sideways off his thigh and a bead of pre spits from the slit and swings in a shining strand. "Lookit ye drip on me floor! Premium fuck-stock, that's what Snibby's runnin' tonight!" I turn my back to him. I bend at the waist and everything drops: my tits swinging free, the tips grazing the dirt, my hair pouring to the floor, and my whole rear presented to the firelight. The full spread of my asscheeks and the glistening mess between them, the swollen lips pulsing with my own heartbeat. A bead of my own slick hangs off me, fattening, glinting. It drops. Hits the dirt between my feet with a tiny *pat.*(playwhenread:"plop") "*Heeheehee!*" His fist schlicks faster. "Big hero, big sword, big fat cow-tits, an' she bends over an' DRIPS. Shake it fer Master. Shake that sloppy money-maker." I roll my hips from the bent position and my asscheeks bounce and clap(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",1500,"forever",true)). Wet flings off me with each impact. I bite down the first moan, then the second. The third escapes: "*Nnnnhhaaaa...*" Clear and ringing and obscene, bouncing off his walls in my own voice. "Tell Master what ye are," he says, low. "Go on. Say it. Make Master cum faster an' we can all go to sleep."(simple_option:"05 say what you are","Say it.")

($play:"sex loop",0)(playwhenread:"im your cow tits")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")(pic:"ch05/dance bend over.jpg") "I'm..." My voice is already husky. "I'm your cow-tits." "LOUDER." "I'm your cow-tits. I'm bending over for you. Showing you... everything." His cock lurches so hard it slaps his belly from behind me, and the POWER of making twelve inches of goblin meat react like that hits me somewhere deep and specific and my whole cunt grips down on nothing and floods and I gasp. "What else." "I'm your prize sow." The words catch fire in my own mouth, each one worse than the last. "I'm... dripping on your floor because my body... wants..." My knees fold. I go down onto my palms and crawl toward him, back curved deep, asscheeks rolling above me, tits pressing into the dirt floor, and the nipples drag the packed earth with every knee-stride and each scrape sends a jolt straight down through my belly, *schlup schlup schlup*, the sound of my own soaked thighs with every crawl-stride, both inner thighs openly glazed, the cool air hitting the wet. Three paces. A lifetime. I arrive at his furs. His cock hangs six inches from my face. The SMELL bypasses thought and strikes my cunt, wringing one hard, full-body clench from me: "*Hhhnnk-*" "Oh, she *likes* it up close," Snib whispers, delighted, his fist going still. "Hero of Eboncrest. Nose-deep in goblin-stink, an' her cunt's squeezin' air. I HEARD it, cow-tits. I heard ye go off." I kneel up and my back arches and the rolling starts,(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.18,"amplitude",0.10,"periodMs",1600,"forever",true)) a wave from my belly up through my ribs, my tits surging and falling, *PLAP*,(playwhenread:"boobslap 1") the weight of them yanking my shoulders forward on every crest. My hands find them on their own. I cup them, squeeze them together, lift them off my ribs, and let them DROP, *PLAP*,(playwhenread:"boobslap 2")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.30,"pulseMs",140,"count",1,"rest",0,"resumeAfter",420)) the flesh jouncing, the nipples dragging across my palms, and I do it again, lift, drop, *PLAP*, and again, and I'm panting so hard the sweat runs between them and I can smell myself over him now, and the moans are coming openly, one per breath, and I'm not biting a single one. "Your cow-tits wants to make Master happy," I hear myself say.(change_stat:"heroism",-3)(change_stat:"snib",1) The floor drops out of my stomach. *I said that. On my knees. Squeezing my own tits for a goblin.* Snib's fist falls away from his cock. It stands on its own in the firelight, twelve inches of purple-black meat quivering with his heartbeat, pre drooling from the slit in a steady glaze, and a fat rope of it detaches and hits the fur with a soft *splat.*(playwhenread:"splat 1") He's just watching. "Good cow," he says quietly. And my hips keep grinding and my hands keep working and the sounds keep climbing out of my mouth, breathy and musical and completely beyond my jurisdiction, and I kneel in the orange firelight performing for the ugliest creature alive, and my cunt is running openly down my thighs.(simple_option:"05 bargain","And you meant what you said.")

(playwhenread:"dance begin masturbate")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")(pic:"ch05/dance bounce.png","right")My head is swimming. Snib just said something and I didn't quite catch it. "Thousand gold," Snib repeats. My hips stutter. "Thousand gold off yer debt." He says it easy, lazy, like he's haggling over turnips at a market stall. His cock stands straight up between us, pulsing in the firelight. "One time offer. Right now. Ye let Master slide between them big fat arse-pillows. No hole, nothin' inside, just the cheeks. Snibby just wants to feel what he owns." A thousand gold. My heart slams once, hard enough to shake my vision. A thousand gold is three months of bounties. A thousand gold is Aldric's best season hunting basilisks. A thousand gold gets me closer to Elara, to buying this collar off, to going HOME. All it costs is... My hips are still grinding. I haven't stopped moving. My hands are still on my tits and my thighs are still wet and the moan is still sitting in my throat waiting for the next breath to carry it out, and I realize with a lurch like missing a stair that I'm not horrified by the offer. I'm doing the arithmetic.(simple_option:"05 assjob answer","Accept the bargain.","Refuse the bargain.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")(if:$choice is "Refuse the bargain.")["No," I try to say. The word gets as far as my teeth and catches there. The arithmetic is still shining in the dark behind my eyes: a thousand gold, a thousand steps toward Elara, one ugly minute that could buy back weeks of my life. My body is still moving. My hands are still on my tits. My cunt is still making its own argument in warm slow drops down my thighs. But there is another number too. Not gold. Not debt. The count of dead at Bitter Creek. The number of children I carried out of the basilisk den. The single day of marriage I am trying to claw my way back to. If I let him buy this from me, I will remember the price every time the collar clicks. (notification:"Decline the bargain. Hold onto the part of you that cannot be purchased.")(minigame:"05 assjob refusal check",12,"Say no.")] (else:)[I do not say yes exactly. I just stop fighting the shape of it. My hands are still on my chest. My knees are still in his dirt. The collar is still warm around my throat, waiting for me to turn humiliation into arithmetic and call it strategy. So I make the only demand left that sounds like Aldric.(simple_option:"05 assjob paid","Make him swear it to the collar.")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[The word breaks before it leaves me. It does not shatter loudly. It folds. A captain's banner lowered in rain. A blade point dipping because the arm behind it cannot lift one more time. "Just the cheeks," I hear myself say. Snib's grin returns by inches. *No. No, that was not supposed to be the answer.* But the bargain has already found a soft place inside me, and the collar at my throat warms like it approves the shape of my surrender.(change_stat:"heroism",-10)(change_stat:"snib",3)(simple_option:"05 assjob paid","Make him swear it to the collar.")](else:)["No." (change_stat:"heroism",3)(change_stat:"snib",-1)The word comes out of me hard and clean and it costs me everything I have left. His yellow eyes go flat. His fist tightens on his shaft and the head flares dark. "No?" He sits up in the furs. "NO? Snibby offers ye a THOUSAND gold, a once-in-a-lifetime bargain, an' ye say NO to me while yer cunt's drippin' on me floor?" "N- no. I said no." The second time is smaller. It is still mine.(simple_option:"05 refuse assjob","Make him earn it without that.")]

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.14,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",2200,"forever",true))"FINE." He spits to the side, a glob of something yellow that hits the dirt. "Then ye're gonna fuckin' EARN yer keep tonight, cow-tits. Ye're gonna dance till I nut, an' ye're gonna make it GOOD, an' ye're gonna say every filthy thing I tell ye to say while ye do it, an' if I don't cum HARD, I'm addin' another five hundred to yer debt. Now MOVE." I move.(playwhenread:"snibbys dancing cow") My hips roll and my asscheeks clap together, *WHAP*,(playwhenread:"spank 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.34,"pulseMs",100,"count",1,"rest",0,"resumeAfter",380)) and I turn for him, slow, giving him the full rotation, feeling every ounce of new flesh travel through the revolution. My tits swing forward on the out-roll and slap back against my ribs, *PLAP*,(playwhenread:"boobslap 1") and the chain of wet between my thighs catches the firelight and I can hear the *schlup* of my own thighs peeling apart on every weight-shift, and I know he can hear it too because his fist starts moving. "Say it," he snarls. "Say 'I'm Snibby's dancing cow and I love shakin' me fat arse fer him.'" "I'm... Snibby's dancing cow." My voice comes out breathy and wrecked. "And I love shaking my fat ass for him."(change_stat:"heroism",-2)(change_stat:"snib",1)(simple_option:"05 refuse assjob bounce","Keep dancing.")

($play:"sex loop","dance begin masturbate")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")"Now bounce them udders. I wanna hear the fuckin' SLAP." I cup my tits from underneath and lift them off my ribs, the full warm weight of them filling both palms and overflowing between my fingers, and I let them fall, *PLAP-PLAP*,(playwhenread:"boobslap 2")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","rhythm","peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.26,"baseFrom",0.04,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",1050,"intervalTo",1050,"pulseMs",170,"forever",false,"beats",3)) and they bounce twice each before settling. "Again." Lift. Drop. *PLAP-PLAP.*(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 1") The nipples drag across my palms and send a jolt straight down through my belly into the sopping wreck between my legs. "SLOWER." I lift them slow this time, feeling the heft, feeling the ache in my shoulders, and hold them up in the firelight, two heavy pale handfuls spilling over my fingers, the nipples stiff and dark and pointing at the ceiling, and then I let go and they DROP with a meaty *THWAP-SLAP*(playwhenread:"boobslapjingle 2") that bounces off the walls of the hut and my whole chest shudders. "*Heeheehee!*" His fist is going faster now, the schlick-schlick-schlick filling the gaps between my panting, and I can see every vein on the shaft standing out, the foreskin bunching and stretching around the dark purple head on every upstroke, a fresh bead of yellowish pre oozing out at the top of each pump and running down over his green knuckles into the matted thatch of black hair at the root. The SMELL of him has thickened in the enclosed hut, rancid musk and ball-sweat, and it coats the inside of my nose and slides down the back of my throat and talks to my cunt, and I feel myself clench.(change_stat:"heroism",-2)(simple_option:"05 refuse assjob words","Turn around.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")"Turn round. Bend over. Clap them cheeks." (hidden_gem:"I turn my back to him and fold at the waist, my hair sweeping the dirt, my tits hanging and swinging, and I roll my hips and let my asscheeks do what they've been doing all night, the full clap-wobble-settle, *WHAP-wobble-wobble*, their fat rippling outward from each impact and rocking back, and I can feel the wet spray off me with each clap, tiny droplets of my own slick flung from the sopping mess between my lips.","I bend my back, bare my broad bottom, and begin the base, bawdy business: *WHAP-wobble-wobble*, both buttocks buffeting each other while briny beads from between my burning lips bedew the floor.")(playwhenread:"spank 2") "Faster. An' tell me what ye are."(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","wave","base",0.15,"amplitude",0.08,"periodMs",700,"forever",true)) I speed the grind and the clapping gets louder, *WHAP WHAP WHAP*,(playwhenread:"rain of spanks") my asscheeks bouncing off each other in a rhythm that fills the whole hut, and the words spill out of me because they're the fastest way to make this end. "I'm... Elise." *WHAP.* "I'm your cow-tits." *WHAP.* "I'm your fat-ass dancing slut and I'm clapping my cheeks for a three-foot goblin." *WHAP-WHAP.* "WHAT ELSE." "I killed a Skrall King today and now I'm bent over in your hut bouncing my ass for you because you OWN me!" The words tear out raw and hot and my eyes are stinging and my cunt is pulsing.(change_stat:"heroism",-3)(change_stat:"snib",1)(simple_option:"05 refuse assjob finish","Make him finish.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.28,"peakTo",0.42,"baseFrom",0.05,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",480,"intervalTo",320,"attackMs",35,"sustainMs",30,"releaseMs",55,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.06,"intervalJitter",0.12,"depthJitter",0.04))Behind me, his breathing changes. The schlick-schlick gets wetter, faster, more frantic,(playwhenread:"handjob") and I can hear the *plap-plap-plap* of his heavy balls swinging against the underside of his fist on every stroke, and his little hips are thrusting up off the furs now, fucking his own hand, his whole body clenching. "Tell me I own them tits," he pants. "...you own my tits." "Tell me I own that fat sloppy cunt." "You own my... my fat sloppy cunt."(playwhenread:"you own my fat sloppy cunt") "Tell me I own the Hero of yer humie town." "You own..." My voice cracks. "...the Hero of Eboncrest." "*NNNNGHHH--*"(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",7,"peakFrom",0.72,"peakTo",0.12,"gapFrom",480,"gapTo",850,"attackMs",65,"holdMs",170,"releaseMs",220,"gapIntensity",0,"peakCurve","soft","aftershocks",2,"aftershockIntensity",0.08,"aftershockGap",1500)) His whole body goes rigid on the furs. I hear it before I see it, a sound that would be comic if it weren't aimed at me. (sperm:"BLOOOORRRRRRT.",5,"splurt 4")I whip my head around in time to see the first rope fire out of him, a thick yellowy-white streamer that arcs through the firelight and hits the dirt floor three feet from his furs. His cock KICKS in his fist and the urethra bulges visibly along the whole underside of the shaft as the next load travels up, and the second rope fires(sperm:"SPLUUURRRT",4,"splurt 2")and sails past my hip and splatters against the far wall in a fat clotted streak that slowly starts to slide down the mud brick. "*KEEP DANCIN'! DON'T STOP! HHRRRRK--*"(change_stat:"heroism",-3)(simple_option:"05 refuse assjob break","Don't stop.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")I keep my hips grinding and my cheeks clapping as the third rope fires,(sperm:"BLRRRRRT",4,"splurt 3")and catches the firelight in a long glinting arc and lands across the small of my back in a hot line that I feel settle and spread on my skin. The fourth and fifth come rapid-fire,(sperm:"SPLUT-SPLUT",3,"splurt 5")one hitting the floor and one catching my right asscheek mid-clap and splattering on impact, warm and thick and clotted, and I feel it fling outward in droplets as my cheeks clap through it. He's SQUEALING now, a high breathless "*heeeee*" that doesn't sound like language, his whole warty body jackknifing on the furs, his heavy balls pulled up tight against the base of his shaft and visibly CHURNING. His stubby legs kick out straight and his toes curl and his whole face scrunches into a goblin cum-grimace that shows every one of his rotten teeth, tongue poking out between them, yellow eyes rolling back until they're just wet slits, and his fist is a blur on the shaft now, the foreskin squelching with every pump, milking out the dregs. (sperm:"BLORRRRP.",5,"splurt 6")The sixth rope coughs out of him in a fat arc, the pisshole distending along the full length of the shaft as it travels, the slit yawning wide to birth a string of yellowy ball-batter so thick it holds its shape in the air before gravity bends it down across my lower back in a hot raised welt that sits on my skin and doesn't run. (sperm:"SPLRRRT.",3,"splurt 1")The seventh rope hits my left asscheek on the up-clap and spreads between both cheeks as they slap together, warm gritty paste squeezing out the seam, and the sound my ass makes clapping through his load is a sloppy *SCHLOCK* instead of the dry *WHAP*, and I can feel strings of it connecting my cheeks every time they spread, stretching and snapping.(change_stat:"heroism",-4)(simple_option:"05 refuse assjob scramble","And that's when it happens.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",10,"peakFrom",0.90,"peakTo",0.16,"gapFrom",300,"gapTo",720,"attackMs",44,"holdMs",95,"releaseMs",125,"gapIntensity",0.04,"peakCurve","swell","aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.12,"aftershockGap",1100))And that's when it happens. The hot weight of it sliding down the crack of my ass hits something, some bundle of nerves I didn't know this body had, and the clap of my own cheeks grinding his thick seed into my skin sends a pulse through me that starts at the base of my spine and detonates. *I am not going to cum. I am NOT going to cum on a goblin's-* The eighth rope hits.(sperm:"SPLRRRT.",4,"splurt 2")Right across the cleft of me, hot and thick, and my asscheeks clap through it and the wet squelch of his nut-batter between my cheeks sends another pulse straight up my spine and the line breaks. (pic:"ch05/dance elise squirts.png")(playwhenread:"squirt") "*NnnnNNNNAAAAAHHH--*" My legs buckle. My knees slam the dirt and my whole body jackknifes forward and something RELEASES between my legs with a force I have never felt in either life, a hard hot jet that sprays the floor between my knees with an audible *PSSSSSHHHHHH*(playwhenread:"elise squirt") that goes on and on and ON, my cunt clenching and firing in rhythmic spasms, my thighs shaking, soaking the dirt dark in a spreading fan beneath me. "*Oh fuck oh fuck oh FUCK--*" My own voice, wrecked and squealing, words I have never said in my life tumbling out between spasms. "I'm cumming, I'm CUMMING, oh gods, oh *FUCK*-" My eyes cross. I feel them do it, feel my vision double and swim, and my tongue is out past my teeth and I'm drooling on the floor and my hips are BUCKING against nothing, grinding air, my whole body trying to fuck something that isn't there while my cunt sprays the packed earth in stuttering jets, *pssh, pssh, pssssshh*,(playwhenread:"splat 2") each clench wringing another squirt out of me. "*HARHARHARHAR!*" Snib is howling behind me, his ninth rope dribbling down his own fist. "*LOOK AT HER! LOOK AT HER GO! Hero of Eboncrest, squirtin' on me floor like a stuck pig! I TOLD ye! I TOLD ye what ye're FOR!*"(change_stat:"heroism",-5)(simple_option:"05 refuse assjob seed","Get up.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")My arms give out and I go face-first into the dirt,(playwhenread:"fall") ass still in the air, still twitching, still clenching, my tits mashed into the packed earth, and the last spasm rolls through me in a long slow wave that curls my toes in the spike-heeled boots and wrings one final moan out of me that sounds like dying. "*Hhhaaauuuuuungh.*" The room goes quiet except for his panting and mine. I am face down in the dirt of a goblin's hut with my ass in the air and my own squirt pooling under my knees and a goblin's cum cooling in thick streaks across my back and between my cheeks, and something in the center of my chest has gone very still and very cold.(change_stat:"heroism",-2)(simple_option:"05 refuse assjob seed crawl","Then you feel it.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")Then I feel it. His cum. Sliding. The thick ridge of it that landed across the cleft of my ass has warmed and thinned and now it's MOVING, oozing slow and purposeful down the crack between my cheeks, following gravity, following the channel of my body toward the one place it absolutely cannot go. The fat yellowy slug of it creeps down over my taint, warm and alive-feeling, and the leading edge touches the outer lip of my bare cunt and I feel my whole body go rigid with a horror that burns the orgasm-haze off me like cold water. *It's trying to get inside.* Goblin seed. Goblin SEED. Designed by whatever foul biology made these creatures to find its way in, to swim, to TAKE, and it's an inch from my opening and I can feel the heat of it kissing my swollen lips and the next glob is right behind it, sliding down after the first, a slow thick caravan of yellowy nut-slurry all heading for the same destination. I scramble. My knees slip in my own squirt and I crash sideways(playwhenread:"fall") and claw myself upright, hands shaking, and I stagger for the hide-flap door with cum sliding down the backs of my thighs and my own juice running down the fronts. I slam through the flap and the cold desert night hits my naked skin and I run for the well, the locked spike-heels punching deep into the sand, and the stars are very bright and very far away.(simple_option:"05 well","Run for the well.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/tempted/1.png")"Just the cheeks," I hear myself say. My voice is thick and strange. "Nothing inside." *What.* "Nothin' inside," he confirms, grinning, already moving forward on the furs, his cock bobbing with every shuffle. "Just a nice slow slide between them soft bits. Ye won't even feel it. Well." He giggles. "Ye'll feel it a LITTLE." "And the gold comes off tonight. I don't ever have to pay it back." (hidden_gem:"I'm negotiating. I'm on my knees, tits in my hands, cunt dripping on a goblin's floor, and I am negotiating the terms under which he rubs his cock between my asscheeks. The Hero of Eboncrest is haggling buttjob prices with a three-foot goblin.","Here I am hunkered on my heels, holding my hooters while honey leaks from my hole, haggling the hire-price for a hideous half-pint's hard-on to rut between my haunches.") "Say it to the collar first," I repeat, and my voice doesn't shake and THAT is the thing that terrifies me, the steadiness of it, how EASY the words came, how my mouth moved before my brain caught up. "Done." He snaps his fingers. The collar pulses warm and I feel the number shift somewhere in the dark machinery at my throat: a click, a settling, a fraction of debt-weight lifting. "Thousand off. Pleasure doin' business, cow-tits."(change_stat:"gold",1000)(change_stat:"heroism",-4)(change_stat:"snib",2)(simple_option:"05 assjob","Then he moves behind you.")

($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")(pic:"ch05/dance assjob begin.png") The stool scrapes across the dirt and I hear him scrabble up behind me, stubby feet kicking for purchase, and then his hands land on both asscheeks and SINK, green fingers pressing deep divots into pale flesh, spreading me so wide the cool air hits places that have never felt a breeze. He drops his cock into my crack from above. The full weight of it falls between my cheeks, scalding hot, slick with its own drool, the footlong green length settling into the cleft with a heavy wet *SLAP*,(playwhenread:"ass hotdogging")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.10),(a:180,0.34),(a:500,0.30),(a:900,0.22),(a:1400,0.12),(a:1800,0)))) and every vein and every ridge prints itself into my soft pressed flesh. "Ohhh, that's *snug.*" He squeezes my asscheeks together around his shaft, pale wobble-pillows pinched into a tight sleeve around green meat, his knobbled fingers sinking deep. "Worth every fuckin' coin."(change_stat:"heroism",-1)(simple_option:"05 assjob first stroke","He starts moving.")($play:"song","snib dominates")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")(pic:"ch05/dance assjob closeup begin.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.42,"peakTo",0.58,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.06,"intervalFrom",500,"intervalTo",340,"attackMs",38,"sustainMs",45,"releaseMs",75,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.07,"intervalJitter",0.14,"depthJitter",0.06))He starts moving. He pulls back. Rams forward. *SCHLOP.*($play:"sex loop","ass hotdogging horny") The fat purple head catches and DRAGS through the pressed meat, pre-slick squelching out from between my cheeks in thin sprays, and his pot-belly SLAMS my tailbone, the wet slap of his sweaty green skin against my lower back, and his balls swing forward underneath me... *WHOP.*(playwhenread:"spank 1")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.45,"pulseMs",120,"count",1,"rest",0,"resumeAfter",400)) His loaded, hairy, grease-coated spermsacks connect with my bare cunt on the forward stroke, the full pendulum weight of them SPANKING my swollen lips, and I feel my pussy KISS THEM BACK, my lips puffing around the fat hairy pouch on impact, clinging for a split-second before the backswing peels them away, and the squelch that comes from between my legs is OBSCENE. He finds his rhythm. *SCHLOP-WHOP. SCHLOP-WHOP. SCHLOP-WHOP.*(playwhenread:"plap 1") Fast, greedy, manic, sawing his fat green fucklog through the pressed groove of my ass, his sweaty little belly smacking my tailbone on every pump, and those cum-churning breed-stones swinging up to SPANK my cunt on every forward stroke, and I can HEAR what's in them, the thick liquid weight SLOSHING on each impact, heavy and gurgling. "Yer WEAKENIN'!" He's squealing, voice climbing to a pitch that hurts my ears. "Snibby can feel ye goin' SOFT every fuckin' day! Know what I reckon?" *SCHLOP-WHOP.* "Ye were born LUCKY, that's all! Lucky big lad with a sword! An' the luck ran out, an' THIS..." he JIGGLES both cheeks around his thrusting cock, shaking the whole fat load of me, "...this is what was under the luck the whole TIME! A fat jiggly arse an' a drippy cunt BEGGIN' fer cock!"(change_stat:"heroism",-2)(simple_option:"05 assjob first stroke slick","It gets worse.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")(pic:"ch05/dance assjob precum.png") (hidden_gem:"A hot gout of pre-cum SPURTS between my shoulderblades, thick and lazy and stinking. The heavy glob sits for a moment, then splits and oozes down both sides of my spine. Warm, oily slug-trails crawl along my ribs, find the underswell of my hanging tits, and DRIP from the nipples onto the dirt.","A scalding spurt of sour seed-slime splashes my spine, sits in a stinking slug of spunk, then separates into slow, serpentine slicks that slither down my sides, seek the slopes beneath my swinging breasts, and string from each stiffened nipple.") The STINK of it fills my head, rancid cheese and goblin rut-funk and something sourly sweet underneath that goes straight between my legs and makes my cunt CLENCH against his balls on the next swing... "*AAAHHN...*" "*Heeheehee!* The big famous hero MOANED! From gettin' her fat arse polished! Where's yer wifey, cow-tits? If pretty little Elara could see the GREASE runnin' down yer back right now..."(simple_option:"05 assjob mount","Try to crawl away.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")(pic:"ch05/dance assjob hop up.png") I try to crawl forward. He jumps off the stool and onto me.(playwhenread:"fall") His stubby legs kick free behind him, flailing, his toes scrabbling for purchase on the backs of my thighs, and he balances himself by CLAMPING both hands on either side of my fat wobbling ass, his whole weight hanging off my hips, and his cock NEVER LEAVES my crack, just wedges DEEPER as he settles, and now I am crawling around a goblin's hut on all fours with a three-foot goblin hanging off my backside, his stubby legs swinging behind him like a child on a swing, his pot-belly SLAMMING the small of my back with every thrust, his greasy throbbing fucklog SLOPPING back and forth between my clamped cheeks while his balls swing free underneath and SPANK my pussy with every stroke. "*GIDDYUP, COW-TITS! HEEHEEHEE!*"(simple_option:"05 assjob mounted","Keep going.")

($play:"sex loop","goblin fucking rough")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.50,"peakTo",0.64,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",400,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",32,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",65,"rampBeats",10,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.07))(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")(pic:"ch05/ass hotdogging closeup.png") His little legs kick with every thrust. His toes drum the backs of my thighs. One warty hand fists my hair like reins and YANKS my head back and the other stays clamped on my right asscheek, his fingers sinking into the wobbling meat, feeling it RIPPLE and JOUNCE with every pump, and the sounds filling the hut are SLOPPY and WET and HORRIBLE... *SCHLOP SCHLOP SCHLOP*: his greasy cock slopping through my pressed cheeks... *WHAP WHAP WHAP*: my asscheeks clapping together around his shaft on every backstroke... *WHOP WHOP WHOP*(playwhenread:"spank 2"): his fat cum-loaded balls spanking my bare cunt... *SQUELCH SQUELCH SQUELCH*(playwhenread:"plap 1"): my own sopping pussy kissing his nuts back... And his pre is EVERYWHERE now, spurting up my back in thick lazy gouts that splatter and sit in warm stinking globs between my shoulderblades before oozing down in heavy slug-trails, finding my ribs, crawling down the sides of my hanging tits, and the tits are SWINGING, *plap-plap-plap*,(playwhenread:"boobslap 1") knocking together with every thrust, and the pre drips off the fat jiggling undersides onto the dirt in thick strings that stretch and SNAP...(change_stat:"heroism",-3) "Where's yer SONGS now, hero-cow!" He's riding me in a circle around the hut, his stubby legs bouncing behind him, his pot-belly slapping my back, greasy and sweating. "Where's yer BALLADS! Where's yer DRAGON-KILLS! Tell Master what ye ARE! Tell Master what FEELS GOOD!"(simple_option:"05 assjob say it","SAY IT.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/conflictpleasure/2.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.52,"peakTo",0.64,"baseFrom",0.08,"baseTo",0.05,"intervalFrom",400,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",32,"sustainMs",40,"releaseMs",65,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.08,"intervalJitter",0.16,"depthJitter",0.07))"I'm... *hhhnng*... I'm your cow-tits... *AAHN*..." "WHAT FEELS GOOD!" "Your... your big hairy b-balls... *hhk*... spanking my... my hero-c-cunt... *AAAHHN*... feels... feels so..." "LOUDER, FUCKPILLOW!"(playwhenread:"it feels good when your fat balls spank") "IT FEELS GOOD WHEN YOUR FAT BALLS SPANK MY PUSSY!" I'm screaming it into the dirt, sobbing, my face on fire, my arms shaking, drool stringing from my open panting mouth, and something has BROKEN in my head, the whole day's trauma cracking open at once, and the words keep coming because I can't stop them... "I LOVE... *hhhk*... I LOVE YOUR NASTY GOBLIN COCK BETWEEN MY FAT... *AAHN*... MY FAT JIGGLY... I CAN FEEL YOUR BALLS LOADING... *HHHNK*... THEY'RE SO HEAVY ON MY... ON MY..." (simple_option:"05 assjob real fuck fork","He makes another offer.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire") (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/rubbingtease.png","His cock sits fat and throbbing in my crack, not moving.") He stops. His cock sits fat and throbbing in my crack, not moving. His sweaty belly on my spine. His little legs dangling either side of my hips like a child sitting on a wall. His warty fist still in my hair, his other hand still sunk to the knuckle in my right asscheek. Worst of all, I can hear myself. The plapping and squealing have stopped. My ragged panting shares the quiet with the pathetic sound of my cunt clenching on nothing, *squelch... squelch... squelch...*, a fist closing on air. It sounds SOPPING, needy, sloppy, HUNGRY. He hears it too; his cock gives a lazy throb between my cheeks. "*Hhn... hhn... hhn...*" I'm whimpering with every breath and I can't stop. (hidden_gem:"A goblin. Three foot eight of warty, pot-bellied, boil-crusted, bandy-legged, yellow-eyed, rotten-breathed GOBLIN perched on my back with his fat sweaty nuts resting against my bare pussy and I'm the one making the desperate sounds.","A goblin. A bandy-legged, boil-bright, broken-toothed, belly-bloated bog bastard barely three feet high, balanced on my back with his brimming balls bedded against my bare pussy, while *I* beg breathlessly.") His belly-sweat is cooling on my spine, mixing with his precum, running down my sides in slow greasy trails. His big nasty loaded-up sack just SITTING against my swollen lips, warm, hairy and heavy, and I can feel the stuff inside shifting, churning, all that thick backed-up goblin nut looking for somewhere to go. My tits hang below me, swinging with every pant, the fat undersides kissing and parting, kissing and parting, *plap... plap...* I just screamed words into this dirt. I SAID things. My jaw is wet with drool and my eyes are wet with tears and my cunt is wet with something I have no excuse for. His cock slides a half-inch lower in my crack. The fat greasy cockhead settles against my entrance, and the heat of that contact jolts through me, and a sound comes out of my mouth that is pure animal need. "*Hhhhhnnnngk...*" My hips roll back. One small, involuntary, damning half-roll. His mouth comes down by my ear. His breath is rotten and I breathe it in anyway because I'm panting too hard to close my mouth. "Reckon yer cunt wants a proper hello," he says. His cock throbs against my opening. I can feel the slit kissing me. I can feel how wet I am, how obscenely, pathetically OPEN, the lips barely touching the head and already trying to pull it in. "*Hhhn... hhn... hhn...*" (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/herewego.jpg","'*Hhhn... hhn... hhn...*'") "Nothing's stoppin' ye, cow-tits." *Except everything.* (hidden_gem:"I know and HE knows and the whole filthy dark hut knows that a simple action would be the most horrifying, pleasurable, disgusting, beautiful and vile thing I could ever do.","Every filthy fact festers in the firelit fug: one fractional flex would be the foulest, finest, most fearsome fuck-yes my flesh has ever fashioned.")(check_stat:"heroism",75)(if:$result is "pass")[(simple_option:"05 assjob real fuck hold","Keep it between your cheeks.")](else:)[(simple_option:"05 assjob real fuck low heroism resist","Keep it between your cheeks.","Let him put it inside.","doom")]

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")My thighs clamp shut. Every sopping inch of me wants to sink back onto the fat throbbing head and let the whole filthy war end in one slick GIVE, but my thighs clamp and my asscheeks cinch tight around his shaft and there is nowhere left for that hungry twitching tip to go but back up into the groove where it came from. He holds still for one more throb. "Nah." He rolls his hips back up out of my entrance, slow, dragging the head up through my clenched cheeks with a long wet *SCHLORRRRP*, and the emptiness that RUSHES in where his cockhead was sitting is so sudden and so COLD that I whimper out loud and my cunt grabs at air again, *squelch*, pathetic and audible. "Wasn't even tryin', was I. Not wastin' good nut on a hole too STUPID to open up when it's told." His palm CRACKS across my left asscheek.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.50,"pulseMs",125,"count",1,"rest",0)) *WHAP.* "Yer loss, cow-tits." He resettles into the slick pressed channel of my cheeks and the first thrust comes back MEAN,(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.62,"peakTo",0.75,"baseFrom",0.07,"baseTo",0.04,"intervalFrom",380,"intervalTo",300,"attackMs",28,"sustainMs",38,"releaseMs",62,"rampBeats",8,"intensityJitter",0.10,"intervalJitter",0.18,"depthJitter",0.08)) a hard punching stroke that jolts my whole body forward on my hands and knees and sends both my hanging tits lurching and clapping together, *PLAP*, and his balls swing through and SPANK my cunt in punishment. *SCHLAP-THWAP-WHOP-SQUELCH.* "MORE fer Snibby." He's furious and grinning and jackhammering between my wobbling cheeks, both hands clamped on my hips, his little legs kicking with manic energy, his belly slopping against my tailbone. "LESS fer you. Could've had it NICE an' DEEP but noooo, hero's too PROUD fer a proper fuckin', hero wants to keep her precious little fuckbox EMPTY..." *SCHLAP-THWAP-WHOP-SQUELCH.* *SCHLAP-THWAP-WHOP-SQUELCH.* The rhythm is FASTER now, angrier, his cock slopping through the pre-soaked groove of my clamped cheeks with this horrible wet SUCTION. I'm sobbing and panting with my face in the dirt and the orgasm I denied myself is building ANYWAY, building from the ball-spanks alone, from just the heavy hairy weight of his nuts connecting with my bare swollen pussy over and over and over... "*Hhn... hhhn... HHHHN...*" "That's RIGHT, cry about it!" *SCHLAP-WHOP.* "Cry about the fuck ye DIDN'T get!" *SCHLAP-WHOP.* "Yer cheeks'll do FINE, always DO, big fat WOBBLE-CUSHIONS wrapped round a gobbo's cock, JIGGLIN' an' DANCIN..." His precum spurts up my spine in a thick hot gout and the stink of it hits me and my cunt CLENCHES against his swinging balls on the next spank and a moan tears through my sobbing... "*AAAAAHHHN...*"(change_stat:"heroism",2)(simple_option:"05 assjob real fuck result","His balls pull up tight.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")($play:"song","foreboding")(playwhenread:"insert rough")My hips wiggle back.(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.12),(a:500,0.22),(a:1200,0.34),(a:2000,0.46),(a:3000,0.58),(a:4200,0.70),(a:5200,0.80),(a:6100,0.86),(a:7000,0.42)))) (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/insert.png","Small motions. Side to side, the way you work a swollen foot into a boot that doesn't want it.") Small motions. Side to side, the way you work a swollen foot into a boot that doesn't want it, and his fat cockhead catches at my opening and my lips part around the crown and grip and pull him in half an inch at a time while my whole body works the angle for him without asking my permission first. *GLLUP.* The head pops past my rim and something in my chest punches out on a gasp. Then the shaft. Ridge after ridge dragging through me on the way down, each one forcing my inner walls to remember a shape they've never had to hold, my whole belly rearranging itself around a foot of green goblin girth, and the sound that comes with it is long and wet and shameless... *SCHLORRRRNK.* (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/fucked.png","All twelve greasy warted inches in one long wet swallow.") His hips meet my ass with a soft warm SLAP. His balls settle against my mound, heavy, hot, still. He's seated to the root and there is not one centimeter of me left that belongs only to me. Snib goes rigid on my back. His legs stop kicking. His belly stops moving. His fist goes slack in my hair. "...ungh," he says. Small. Quiet. Like even he didn't think I'd do it. Then my cunt seizes, sending me into A FULL-BODY LOCKDOWN. Every muscle from my knees to my ribs fires at once. My asscheeks clench hard enough to dimple; my thighs slam shut around his hips and trap him there; my tits swing up and SLAP together beneath me. Inside, my walls map his shaft in one horrible instant: the curve, the fat vein beneath it, the flared head pressed against the very end of me. I cum.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",12,"peakFrom",0.95,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",300,"gapTo",760,"attackMs",44,"holdMs",105,"releaseMs",130,"gapIntensity",0.04,"peakCurve","plateau","aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.14,"aftershockGap",1100)) "*AAAAAA!!!*" (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/balls deep squirt.png","Squirt sprays around his shaft in a hot, violent gush.") Everything I have fires at once. Squirt sprays around his shaft in a hot, violent gush(playwhenread:"squirt") that soaks his sack and hisses into the dirt, *PSSSSHHHH*. My spine bows until something CRACKS. My heels drum the ground. My ass rolls and claps against his hips, trying to swallow him deeper, while my tits slam and jounce to a frenzy all their own. HE ISN'T MOVING. My body milks a goblin's cock on pure ambient horror and relief. (hidden_gem:"Snib's cock throbs inside me in answer to every clamp, swelling harder, the head pulsing against my deepest wall until his pulse and my pulse are the same pulse, one wet heartbeat shared between the ugliest creature I have ever met and the body a dead empire built to want him.","His prick pulses in perfect partnership with my perverse prison-flesh, purple peak pounding my pit until our pulses pair into one profane, puddled heartbeat.") His balls throb against my mound. Full, patient... and loaded. My cunt keeps grabbing at him in aftershocks, weaker each time, a series of small wet kisses I can't stop giving. The puddle under my knees spreads. The two words linger in the ugly quiet while my body shudders around a goblin's cock. Outside, the wind moves the sand as it always has, indifferent to what a woman's body just decided about itself in the dark.(change_stat:"heroism",-8)(simple_option:"05 bad end first thrust","He starts to move.")

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")(if:$choice is "Let him put it inside.")[(display:"05 assjob real fuck low heroism choice")](else:)[(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.30,"peakTo",0.42,"baseFrom",0.10,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",1050,"intervalTo",900,"attackMs",90,"sustainMs",85,"releaseMs",150,"rampBeats",12,"intensityJitter",0.04,"intervalJitter",0.07,"depthJitter",0.04)) (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/press.png","'One little push, cow-tits. One little push an' Snibby's INSIDE.'") "Ye feel that?" Snib's voice is wet against my ear. His cock slides between my cheeks, slow and greasy, the warted crown dragging through the cleft with a sound like a boot pulling out of mud. *SCHLORP.* "Ye feel how CLOSE Snibby is?" *SPLAP.* His belly smacks my tailbone. His balls drag across my mound, heavy and sloshing, the weight of them pressing my swollen lips with every stroke. "One little push, cow-tits. One little push an' Snibby's INSIDE." I grip the dirt. My fingers curl into it. My nails dig furrows. "Snibby's felt yer cunt DRIPPIN' on his balls for ten minutes now. Ye want it." *SCHLORP.* The head catches on my rim and my whole body CLENCHES, trying to pull him in, and I force my hips DOWN, force them still, force them to STOP... (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/struggle.jpg","My thighs shake.") "Just say the word," Snib pants, his stubby legs kicking against my flanks. "Just say 'put it in' an' all this fightin' stops. Ye get to stop pretendin' yer still a hero." My thighs shake. My cunt is a fist clenching on nothing. *Squelch. Squelch.*(minigame:"05 assjob real fuck willpower result",12,"Keep it between your cheeks.")]

($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")(if:$choice is "Fail Check")[($play:"song","foreboding")I try to crawl forward. My palms press dirt, my elbows drag, and I hold the one thing that still belongs to me: Elara at the kitchen window, flour on her wrist, morning light on the side of her neck, that small startled bloom on her face when she looked up and found me still there. I hold it like a rope over a pit. My hips roll back.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.16),(a:350,0.30),(a:900,0.44),(a:1700,0.58),(a:2700,0.70),(a:3800,0.80),(a:5000,0.86),(a:6100,0.44)))) *SCHHHLLLORRRRRP.* (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/fucked.png","All twelve greasy warted inches in one long wet swallow.") All twelve greasy warted inches in one long wet swallow, my own cunt gulping Snib down like a throat taking meat, every vein and knot and bump dragging past my entrance in one continuous obscene slide, my insides shoving themselves aside to make a hallway for his shape, and his balls slap up against my mound, hot and heavy and full, and the rope in my hands is just gone. "*NNNHHAAAAaaahh....*" "*Oooogh.* *Ohhh.* Ohhh, *there* it is." Snib's voice slobbers wet at my ear as he settles his whole gut down onto my spine, and he just *wallows*, rolling his hips in slow selfish little circles to stir himself around inside me, grunting into my hair, taking his sweet greedy time because there's nowhere else in the world he needs to be and I'm not going anywhere. "Ahhh. Ahhh, that's *nice*. That's *lovely*, that is. Warm little hero-sleeve." A rope of drool lands on my shoulder blade and crawls down my ribs. Flour on her wrist. The dough under her palms. He starts to move. Slow. Lazy.(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","thrust","forever",true,"peakFrom",0.50,"peakTo",0.68,"baseFrom",0.12,"baseTo",0.08,"intervalFrom",1050,"intervalTo",750,"attackMs",95,"sustainMs",95,"releaseMs",165,"rampBeats",14,"intensityJitter",0.05,"intervalJitter",0.08,"depthJitter",0.04)) Withdrawing until only the fat head is caught in me and then sliding home again with a thick soaked *SCHLUCK*. "Ohhhh yer *grippin'*," he wheezes, hips smacking my ass, his belly slapping soft against my lower back. "Squeezin' me all up. *Hurhh.* Good little cow. Good little *hole.*" Morning light. Her neck. The word *home.* The rhythm builds. Sweet pressure winds tighter behind my navel with every drag of his cockhead over that one ruined spot. My hands leave the dirt, find his bony, sweat-slick thighs, and *pull.* *GLLRRSCHLOP. GLLRRSCHLOP. GLLRRSCHLOP.* "*Nnngh... nnngh... hhaa... hhaaa...*" Just her wrist. Just flour. Just... My cunt seizes in one massive breeding-clench from entrance to core and *MILKS* him,(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",12,"peakFrom",0.94,"peakTo",0.18,"gapFrom",320,"gapTo",780,"attackMs",46,"holdMs",100,"releaseMs",130,"gapIntensity",0.04,"peakCurve","swell","aftershocks",4,"aftershockIntensity",0.13,"aftershockGap",1100)) *squelch*, and again, *SQUELCH*, ring after ring of muscle firing down the line, nursing at a goblin's cock in wet grateful audible pulses, and my tits lurch and clap together beneath my chest, my asscheeks ripple against his hips, my thighs lock, and the squirt sprays around his shaft in a scalding pressurized burst(playwhenread:"squirt") that soaks his sack and *hisses* into the dirt... (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/insert squirt.jpg","PSSSHHHH.") *PSSSHHHH.* *PSSHH.* "*AAAAAIIIIEEEEE...*" One long wet animal note filling every corner of his shitty little hut while my whole body shakes itself to pieces on twelve inches of throbbing green meat. My arms give out. My cheek hits the ground. My ass stays up, quaking, tits rocking and settling and rocking again, my cunt kissing him in helpless aftershocks that refuse to quit. Snib makes a sound I have never once heard from him. His stubby toes curl against my thighs. His cock throbs inside me, answering my grip, until his pulse and mine run down the same wet channel and I can't tell which one is mine. Nothing is left of the floured wrist. Or the flowered garden. Or the woman at the window. His balls rest warm and full against my mound. Patient. Home.(change_stat:"heroism",-8)(simple_option:"05 bad end first thrust","He starts to move.")](else:)[(display:"05 assjob real fuck hold")]

The loose hairy sack goes HARD against my cunt, the skin crinkling, the heavy loaded weight of them PRESSING into my swollen lips instead of swinging, and I feel them CHURN, feel the thick mass inside them SHIFT and MOVE... (pic:"ch05/bad end/finalfuck/herewego.jpg","'FUCKIN' EMPTYIN' ME SACK INTO ME HERO-SLUT'S FAT WOBBLY ARSE!'") "EMPTYIN'!" he shrieks, his whole body going rigid on my back, his stubby legs locking straight out behind him, his fingers white-knuckled in my hair and my asscheek. "FUCKIN' EMPTYIN' ME SACK INTO ME HERO-SLUT'S FAT WOBBLY ARSE!"(change_stat:"heroism",-4)(simple_option:"05 assjob climax start","He cums.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/corrupted/2.png")(pic:"ch05/dance assjob cumshot.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.30),(a:180,0.82),(a:600,0.34),(a:1600,0.78),(a:2050,0.30),(a:3200,0.74),(a:3700,0.28),(a:5000,0.68),(a:5500,0.24),(a:6800,0.60),(a:7350,0.20),(a:8700,0.42),(a:9300,0.16),(a:10400,0)))) The first shot fires through my clamped cheeks and the head of his cock FLEXES between my asscheeks as his slit dilates and...(sperm:"BLORRRRRRT.",5,"splurt 3")A thick, scalding, clotted rope of goblin spunk SPLATS up my spine, heavy and stinking and so hot it makes me YELP, and it SITS there, a fat lazy slug of the stuff clinging to my skin, reeking of rancid cheese and breeding-musk, and before it can even start to ooze down... (sperm:"SPLURRRRCH.",5,"splurt 4")The second shot, THICKER, slopping across my shoulderblades in a heavy wet splatter that I feel SPREAD, warm and clotted, the weight of it pressing my skin down, and his cock FLEXES again and the urethra BULGES along the underside of the shaft between my cheeks, I can feel the next load TRAVELING... (sperm:"GLORRRRRP.",6,"splurt 6")The third, and the volume is INSANE, pooling in the arch of my lower back in a hot stinking lake that overflows down both sides and oozes toward my ribs in thick lazy fingers, finding the undersides of my hanging tits and running in warm clotted strings off the fat jiggling undersides, *drip, drip, drip* onto the dirt... He's SQUEALING, his hips jerking in short rapid spasms, each one pumping another gout between my cheeks...(sperm:"SPLUT. BLRRT. GLORRRP.",4,"splurt 8")...and his fat loaded balls GRIND against my cunt, pressing and churning, and the pressure of them against my throbbing clit and my swollen puffed-out lips is...(change_stat:"heroism",-3)(simple_option:"05 assjob climax break","The pressure breaks.")

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(playwhenread:"elise squirt")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","orgasm","pulses",14,"peakFrom",0.98,"peakTo",0.16,"gapFrom",280,"gapTo",780,"attackMs",44,"holdMs",105,"releaseMs",130,"gapIntensity",0.04,"peakCurve","plateau","aftershocks",5,"aftershockIntensity",0.15,"aftershockGap",1100))(pic:"ch05/dance elise squirts.png")I cum. My whole body SEIZES and my cunt SPRAYS directly onto his balls, a hot pressurized gush that splatters his hairy loaded sack and runs down his dangling nuts in warm streams, my pussy THANKING them, KISSING them with its own wet spray, soaking every coarse hair, washing the grease off those fat disgusting breed-stones that just spanked an orgasm out of the Hero of Eboncrest, and the sound of my own squirt hitting goblin ballsack is a sustained *PSSSHHHSSSHHHSSHH* that I will hear in my sleep for the rest of my life. And I keep CUMMING, wave after wave, my cunt clenching and spraying and clenching again. Each clench squeezes out another hot gush that spatters his nuts, runs off them, and joins the puddle between my knees. Piss releases with it because my body has forgotten the difference. Everything below my waist OPENS and GIVES and SPRAYS for the goblin who owns it. With my face in the mud, my cunt hosing his balls, and his cum oozing down my spine, a sick certainty blooms: some part of me has been WAITING to do this. "*AAAIIIIIEEEE...hhhhhk...hhhhhhk...hhhhk...*"(change_stat:"heroism",-5)(simple_option:"05 assjob collapse","Collapse.")($play:"sex loop",0)

(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/fuckedsilly/1.png")(bp_stim:(dm:"mode","timeline","events",(a:(a:0,0.32),(a:900,0.28),(a:1800,0.25),(a:3000,0.21),(a:4400,0.17),(a:6000,0.13),(a:8000,0.09),(a:10000,0.05),(a:12000,0))))My arms give out. My chin hits the floor.(playwhenread:"fall") My tits mash into the mud of my own making, and I can feel his cum crawling in thick lazy strings down my ribs and pooling under my flattened chest, mixing with the spreading puddle, and his cock is still FLEXING between my cheeks, still pumping, four, five, six more lazy spurts that slop across my back and run down into the crack of my ass and drip off my cunt onto the soaked dirt... "*Hrrrk... hrrrrk... hrrrrrrnk...*" Wordless, guttural relief: a creature VOIDING itself with the satisfied grunt of an animal that found what it needed. His hips give three more short jerks, each squeezing a final thick clot between my cheeks with a soft, wet(sperm:"plrt, plrt, plrt",2,"splurt 1")... His cock softens and FLOPS out of my crack and slaps my inner thigh with a heavy wet *THWAP*,(playwhenread:"cockslap") leaving a greasy stinking smear from hip to knee. He sags onto my back. His pot-belly settles warm and sweaty against my spine. His little chest pumps against my shoulderblades and his breath wheezes in my ear. The hut goes quiet. Just our breathing. And the soft hiss of my puddle soaking into the dirt beneath me. And the slow *drip... drip... drip...* of goblin cum running off my hanging tits onto the floor. "Heh." He pats my ass, once.(playwhenread:"spank 2")(bp_stimwhenread:(dm:"mode","pulse","intensity",0.18,"pulseMs",90,"count",1,"rest",0)) "Good cow."(change_stat:"heroism",-2)(simple_option:"05 well","Later...")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience fire")

($play:"song","night arousal theme")($play:"sex loop",0)(pic:"ch05/well cleanup.jpg")($play:"ambience","desert night ambience") (if:$choice is "Later...")[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/sad/3.png")The well-water is so cold it makes me gasp when I pour the first bucket down my back. (hidden_gem:"I won't put the bucket back in the well until I'm clean. I stand naked on the sand twenty paces from the hut and pour and scrub and pour again, watching thick clotted strings of goblin cum swirl off my skin and splatter the sand between my feet where the desert drinks them. The moonlight makes the stuff visible longer than I'd like. It clings to the small of my back, to the undersides of my tits, to the crack of my ass where it dried tacky while I lay on the floor trying to remember how to breathe.","I will not foul the well, so I wash in the wasteland, watching white, wormy wads of goblin waste writhe from my skin while the thirsty sand swallows them. Wan moonlight finds what water misses: tacky traces wedged beneath my breasts, waist, and welted arsecrack.") I pour another bucket down my front(playwhenread:"pump water") and watch it run over my belly and between my thighs and carry the last of what he left on me into the sand. What I screamed. What I said I... *loved.* I don't know what came over me. The question has no smooth side. The day cracked something open: dungeon, idol, book, King, fire, dance, crawling. By the end, nothing held the wall up. I pour the last of the water over my hair and stand there shivering and clean and ruined. "Oi." Snib's in the doorway of the hut, leaning on the frame, loincloth back on, picking his teeth with a claw. His yellow eyes track down my body as I bend to set the bucket down and I can feel the gaze land on my ass like a palm, proprietary, satisfied. "Ye know that shiny I found." He holds up the tarnished circlet, turning it in the moonlight. "Reckon yer humie merchants'll pay decent fer it." I say nothing. Water drips off my nipples into the sand. "So I been thinkin'." He grins. "We take the shiny to yer humie-town. Cash it in proper." He lets the word sit. "An' if ye keep bein' good like tonight... Snibby might let ye see yer wifey." Everything in me goes still. "Elara?" My voice comes out cracked. "*Whole day.* Just you an' her." He picks something from between his teeth and flicks it into the dark. "But ye gotta keep earnin' it, cowtits. Every day." His eyes find mine across the twenty paces of moonlit sand. "Ye showed Snibby somethin' tonight. Showed him what's under all that hero-talk. Keep showin' it, an' ye'll get yer reward." He waddles back inside. The hide-flap swings shut behind him. (hidden_gem:"I stand at the well, naked and wet and shivering, the desert night vast and cold around me, and the offer hangs in the air.","I wait at the well, wet, woman-naked, and weakly shivering while the wasteland wind worries his wicked wager between us.") I already know I will take it because I would crawl through worse than this for one full day with her, and the collar at my throat knows it too.(simple_option:"06 begin","The next day...")](else:)[(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/elise/slave/determined/1.png")I stand in the sand beside the ancient K'tarran stonework with the bucket in both hands, tipping it slow, letting the water run down my neck and over my chest and carry the day off me. I won't use the well directly. What's crusted across my lower back doesn't belong in water this old and this clean. I scrub at the rope of cum across my lower back with the heel of my palm. It's gone tacky, pulling at my skin, and I have to work at it, and while I work at it I think about the sounds I made on my knees in that hut and the words that came out of my mouth and how I meant them. I don't have an answer for any of it. The question just sits there in the cold. The hide-flap rustles and Snib waddles out into the moonlight, scratching his belly, his cock swinging soft against his thigh for once. "Yer arse looks extra fat in moonlight," he observes. "Well, you look like a toad someone stepped on." It comes out before I think about it. What bothers me is how I meant it in lighthearted jest. The collar seems to sense that and doesn't punish me whatsoever. He blinks at me. Then his grin cracks open. "*Hrukhruk.* Mouthy tonight, ain't we. Wash me too, then, since ye're feelin' generous." "You've never washed in your life." "Special occasion." I fill the bucket again(playwhenread:"pump water") and unceremoniously dump it over his head and he SQUEALS, his whole body clenching, his stubby legs stamping in the sand, "*COLD COLD COLD THRAKKIN' COLD*," and something twitches at the corner of my mouth that might have been a laugh in some other life. I pour another bucket. He sputters and shakes himself like a dog. "Right," he says, dripping, teeth chattering, looking up at me with those yellow eyes catching the moonlight. "Here's what we're gonna do. Tomorrow. We take the shiny into humie-town. Sell it. Ye help get a good price." My hands go still on the bucket. "An' if ye're *good*," he says, scratching behind one pointed ear. "If ye keep bein' good like ye were tonight... maybe Snibby lets ye see yer wifey. Alone. Whole day. Just you an' her." Elara. The name lands in my chest where the laughter almost lived and kills it dead. I stand naked in the desert moonlight with well-water running off me and goblin cum still under my fingernails. I pour one more bucket over my head(playwhenread:"pump water") and let the cold take everything for a moment. "We'll see," I say. "*Hrukhruk.* That means yes."(simple_option:"06 begin","The next morning.")]

(masteraudio:"stopall")(chapter_title:5,"The Dungeon")($play:"ambience","desert")(pic:"ch05/ancient one.jpg")The midday sun hangs mercilessly overhead, bathing the vast expanse of desert in an unforgiving light that turns the sands into a blinding, shimmering mirage. Dunes rise and fall like the waves of a troubled sea, their rough, granulated surfaces shifting and changing shape with the whims of the arid wind. The air carries the taste of heat and dust, parching my throat and stinging my eyes. An enormous statue rises above the desert, a relic from a time long forgotten. It's a head, tipped on its side, half-submerged in the dune, with a gaping maw, weathered and chiseled by time and sandstorms. The empty eyes stare blindly at the azure sky, a mute witness to the relentless march of time. "A dungeon. Treasure, no doubt.” His repugnant smirk sends shivers down my spine, a feeling that intensifies as his rough hand unceremoniously gropes my breast. My cheeks blaze in humiliation, his touch making my traitorous body react despite my revulsion. My heart quickens. The petrified statue is a remnant of the K'Tarrans, an ancient and immensely powerful race that once roamed Zaelasia. Legend has it that their downfall came from the dangerous entities they sought to harness and control. Even now, centuries after their extinction, the mere mention of their name invokes fear and trepidation. (pic:"ch05/arrive.jpg","right")*Sleep, Maraan, in chambers deep, In shadows where no sunbeams seep, Caught in time's relentless hands, Lulled beneath the Shifting Sands Rest, Thul’nara, in vaults unseen, Where dreams dissolve and fates convene, Stay your wrath, your reign delayed, Beneath the desert's silent shade In halls where echoes come undone, Silent lie, Zor'ethun, In slumber deep and deathless trance, Beyond the dawn's first wary lance Hearken, children, to this decree, Let ancients in their slumber be. Make no clamor, stir no sound, On sacred sea or hallowed ground* "This is madness, Master,” I manage to say, each word punctuated by the rising anxiety inside me. "We should turn back. This place... it’s a tomb, a grave for the foolish and the greedy." Yet even as I protest, the goblin breaks into cruel laughter, tightening his grip around my waist, making my flesh squirm beneath his touch. "Oh, ain't you just precious, Elise-deary?" He snickers, his fingers tracing the outline of my soft, ample breast, igniting a blush that creeps up my face. "Scared of a few rocks, are ya? Don't you fret now. Your Master will protect ya." His smug words make my blood boil, yet my retort dies on my lips as the magical collar around my neck tightens, choking the words out. A painful coughing fit ensues, my breasts bouncing, my vision blurring as I struggle for air. “Please - okay,” I whimper. “We’ll go in.” As the collar loosens again, I bend over, heaving. My large tits hang heavily, almost spilling from the scanty bikini armor, the metallic surface chilling against my skin, nipples hardening in response. Sweat trickles down my cleavage, the salty taste filling my mouth as I pant for breath. Snib's delighted chuckle feels like another slap to my face, the mockery etched in his voice unbearable. "Remember who’s in charge here, my voluptuous vixen. Now, onto the dungeon," he commands, tightening his grip on Jarkrond's reins. The horse snorts, pawing at the sand nervously. “And no magic. I don’t want you getting any ideas about taking me down if you get in trouble.” Unfortunately, my once-might magical abilities had been neutered by the collar. The spells that I could once weave effortlessly, my powerful incantations now lie dormant, imprisoned within my mind. "Ignisurge," I recall the incantation of the Searing Bolt spell, the words echoing hollowly in the cavern of my mind. The invocation that once sparked an orb of concentrated, roaring flames at my fingertips, now nothing more than a cruel mockery of my former prowess. (hidden_gem:"The power to command the elements, to shape them to my will, the intense rush of raw magic coursing through my veins – all snatched away, locked behind a barrier I cannot breach without Snib's nod of approval.","The dominion to direct the elements, to mold them to my mandate, the vigorous vault of vital vigor vanishing in my veins – all purloined and penned behind barriers unbreachable without the nod of Snib.") The hilt of Whisperwind in my grasp is a bitter consolation, a cruel reminder of my lost freedom. The blade, once a symbol of my heroism and valor, is now just a tool for Snib's torment. The iridescent alloy, the intricate engravings, the magical gemstone on the hilt – they all feel so foreign, so detached. It's as if the sword no longer recognizes its bearer, no longer responds to the touch of its master. The once harmonious connection between us, the seamless melding of intent and action, has been shattered. It's as if I'm holding a stranger's weapon. The cold, metallic surface of the collar around my neck feels heavier than ever. The mark of my subjugation, my surrender. Each time I feel the urge to cast a spell, to summon the familiar rush of power, it tightens its grip, suffocating my magic, suffocating me. Each choked word, each stifled incantation, each thwarted spell, deepens the wound of my loss, the agony of my humiliation. And through it all, Snib's sneering face, his cruel laughter, his vile touch, only serve to further degrade and torment me. (pic:"ch05/jarkrond.jpg","left")I am no longer Aldric, the hero of Zaelasia. I am Elise, the voluptuous, big-titted servant of a disgusting goblin master. It's a reality that chokes me even more than the collar ever could. Even the normally eager Jarkrond, adapted for desert life, seems to sense the malevolent aura surrounding the tomb. He refuses to approach, his wide eyes rolling in fear. A pang of sympathy for the horse slices through my fear. We're both enslaved to this goblin's sadistic desires. The stone beneath my heel-boots is worn smooth, the steps themselves sloping slightly under centuries of use. The small clack that reverberates through the stairwell is a harsh reminder of how claustrophobically silent the surroundings are. As we delve deeper into the heart of the desert, the sunlight gradually fades, replaced by an eeriness that seems to pervade the very air around us. (simple_option:"05 old dungeon","Enter the statue's mouth.")

(pic:"ch05/entrance.jpg","right")($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")The stone passageway we are descending spirals deep into the bosom of the desert. Its narrowness and descending nature make it feel more like a winding pit than a stairwell. The walls are marked with ancient K'Tarran glyphs, interspersed with eerie effigies of the forgotten creatures they once worshipped. Ghoulish faces with many eyes and too many teeth leer at us from the walls, each sculpted with an attention to detail that makes them appear all too real. The darkness grows denser as we descend, pressing against us like a tangible force. The stone walls, hewn from a dark granite-like material found only in the furthest reaches of Zaelasia, gleam ominously, absorbing any stray light and giving it back as a deathly, otherworldly glow. After what feels like an eternity of descending, we finally reach the bottom. The atmosphere is dense with the weight of the past, the stone walls seeming to pulse with the long-ago echoes of rituals and ceremonies. In this lightless abyss, it is impossible not to feel like an intruder, a blight on sacred ground. "Stay close," Snib grumbles, his voice echoing in the vast chamber. A nauseating mix of arrogance and excitement oozes from him, his confidence growing with each step further into the tomb. My heel-boots, however impractical for this excursion, click against the ancient stone floor, the echo bouncing eerily off the cavernous walls. The clacking seems to echo endlessly, as if the very dungeon itself were trying to swallow the sound and any traces of our intrusion. Though Snib has barred me from casting any spells, the primal magic of this place reacts to my latent abilities. An icy sensation prickles at the back of my neck, the heavy burden of unseen eyes watching us, judging us. There is an uncanny sense of foreboding, as though we have awoken something that had been sleeping for centuries. The air itself feels different here, thicker somehow, and tastes like iron on my tongue. A vague sense of vertigo washes over me, my heart pounding in my chest. Is it fear, or a warning from the magical collar clasped around my neck? Silent as the grave, the dungeon stretches out before us, a monstrous monument to the past, a testament to the hubris and glory of the K'Tarrans. The hushed whispers of long-lost secrets beckon from the darkness, luring us deeper into its cold, unyielding grasp. (simple_option:"05 old fight","You hear noises ahead.")

($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")Shadows dance on the sandstone walls, shaped by the sparse light from a dwindling torch. Its flickering illumination reveals signs of movement in the periphery, glowing red eyes darting in and out of sight. ($lorebook_entry:"Skrall","beasts")s. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of those wiry, fanged creatures. I feel Snib’s grip tighten on my leash, his grimy nails digging into my porcelain skin. For a fleeting moment, I sense fear in his grasp, a stark contrast to his usual demeaning and confident hold. My heartrate accelerates. The Skralls hiss in the shadows, their piercing red eyes glowing ominously in the darkness. Can I still even do this sort of thing? Fight? “I’ll find out soon enough…” I mutter under my breath, ready to protect Snib, not out of any sense of duty or respect, of course. "I hope yer worth all this trouble," Snib sneers, his voice a hoarse whisper against my ear, his every word a degrading reminder of my subservient position. (simple_option:"05 old draw","Draw your sword!","Beg Snib for permission to use your magic!")

(pic:"ch05/skrall fighter.png")(if:$choice is "Draw your sword!")[($play:"sound","draw sword")The first Skrall lunges at me from the darkness, its tiny eyes glowing an eerie red. In a swift motion, marred by the sudden sway of my fat, unrestrained tits, I draw Whisperwind from its scabbard, the blade gleaming under the dim dungeon light. The Skrall's weapon, a jagged piece of bone, comes crashing against my sword. I block, parrying the attack. My heels almost slip on the dusty stone, but I manage to hold my ground, my large ass wobbling as I fight for balance. My retaliation comes in a swift thrust of my sword, forced awkwardly by the pull of Snib on my leash. The Skrall squeals, jumping back just in time. (hidden_gem:"Another Skrall leaps at me from my left. Reacting instinctively, I sidestep the creature, but the unfamiliar high-heeled boots throw me off balance. My ass, wide and jiggly, slaps against my thighs, drawing a crude laugh from Snib.","Another adversary attacks abruptly from the left. Automatically adjusting, I avoid the aggressor, although awkward attire alters my axis. My ample, agitated ass audibly applauds against my thighs, arousing amusement from Snib.") (pic:"ch05/fight.jpg","right")I curse under my breath, just focusing on the enemy in front of me.I feign a lunge at one Skrall, its eyes widening in alarm, before swiftly turning to strike at another that was trying to flank me. My bulky breasts swing with the motion, brushing against my arms, a lewd reminder of my situation. But I push through, driving Whisperwind through the Skrall's abdomen. It squeals in pain before collapsing to the floor. Fueled by the adrenaline and the small victory, I push past my inhibitions, using my new body as a weapon. I pull my sword free, swing it in a high arc above my head, and cleave down onto another Skrall trying to attack from my rear. The force sends my breasts heaving upwards, nearly spilling out of their metallic prison. In the heat of the moment, a Skrall lunges at me from my blind spot. With no time to use my sword, I react the only way I can – I kick. My sharp metal heel drives into its midsection, puncturing its skin and forcing it to stumble back. The kick throws me off balance too, of course - wide hips swaying, my ass jiggling wildly. But the Skrall's surprised squeal makes up for it.](else:)[(live:3s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","draw sword")]The eerie silence of the dungeon is suddenly shattered by the hiss and scuttle of the Skralls, their sharp bone weapons glinting ominously in the dim torchlight. A frigid wave of fear crashes over me as I stumble back, my high-heeled boots clacking awkwardly on the smooth stone floor. My heart thunders against my ribcage, each beat a deafening roar in my ears. "Master, please," I gasp, my voice laced with desperation, "Let me use *magic*. They'll slaughter us!" Snib's laughter rings hollow in the cavernous room, bouncing off the walls with a sinister echo. "Use yer sword, Elise-deary. Prove yer worth as my pitiful pet warrior!" I dodge an incoming swipe, my body moving clumsily, breasts jiggling uncontrollably as I twist and turn. The metal bikini armor offers scant protection, biting into my flesh with every sharp movement, leaving little to the imagination and less in the way of defense. The creatures' relentless assaults force me back step by unsteady step. "One more chance, Master-magic!" I plead, ducking under a ragged claw. "We won't survive this-" (change_stat:"snib",-1)"Enough whinin'! Fight!" he hisses, yanking sharply on my leash, causing my head to snap back and my cleavage to spill forward in a distracting display. A Skrall lunges, its jagged weapon aimed straight at my heart. Instinctively, I raise Whisperwind, the sword's familiar weight a cold comfort. The clang of bone against metal reverberates through my arms, jarring my already shaky grip. Another Skrall joins the fray, its pungent breath hot on my face, its red eyes gleaming with bloodlust. (pic:"ch05/fight.jpg","right")My training as Aldric kicks in, though my new body hinders me with every move. My legs, though encased in impractical boots, prove to be my greatest asset. A desperate high kick sends the closest Skrall reeling back, its jaw snapping shut with a sickening crunch. But there's little time to celebrate. The second creature seizes its chance, its bone blade slicing a fiery line across my thigh, biting painfully through the scant protection of my armor. I cry out, not in pain but frustration, feeling warm blood trickling down my leg. I'm cornered now, the cold stone wall pressing against my back, the air thick with the stench of my fear and their malice. The lead Skrall, wounded but enraged, charges at me, its weapon raised for a killing blow. At the last second, I duck. Reaching deep within, I tap into the primal survival instinct that no transformation can strip away. Whisperwind arcs through the air with a grace I forgot I possessed, severing the creature's head from its neck. Blood spatters across the dungeon floor, dark and gleaming in the torchlight. The head rolls to a stop at Snib's feet, its expression forever frozen in a snarl.] The remaining Skralls, discouraged by the fall of their companions, retreat into the shadows. I pant, clutching my sword tightly. "Well, well," Snib murmurs from behind me, his grasp loosening on my leash, "You're not entirely useless, titsy." They were tiny ones. I’ve fought bigger Skralls. Much bigger. And I’m not sure I could handle much more than I just did. Their retreat leaves us in silence, but the respite is fleeting. We proceed further into the bowels of the K'Tarran crypt. Its ancient walls moan under the strain of time, echoing with the lingering whispers of the past. Suddenly, the path drops away into a gaping maw, a pit filled with what appears to be loose soil, but my warrior’s instincts recognize it instantly. Quicksand. "Go on, cowtits," Snib sneers, tugging my leash towards the pit. A precarious stone path stretches across the pit, a tightrope walker's dream. But with my awkward high-heeled boots and disproportionately heavy body, it's a nightmare. (simple_option:"05 old quicksand","Attempt to cross...")

(pic:"ch05/quicksand.jpg")(live:3s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","spank 1")]“You first,” he slaps my ass, pushing me forward. My cheeks burn red. Reluctantly, I step onto the first stone, feeling my heels sinking slightly. I steady myself, my massive breasts throwing me off balance. Swallowing my dread, I hop to the next stone. Then the next. Halfway across, a stone shifts beneath my weight. Panicked, I lurch for the next step, but my heel slips, throwing me off balance. I flail. And then, I'm falling. The quicksand swallows me greedily, each frantic movement pulling me deeper. Its gritty texture clings to my skin, coating my voluptuous body. My breasts and ass, those twin burdens, sink faster, dragging me down. The sand feels like a thousand tiny fingers, clammy and insistent, violating my already scant modesty. "Help... Sn- Master!” I gasp, sand filling my mouth, clogging my throat. Snib simply laughs from the safety of the ledge, his green eyes twinkling with sadistic pleasure as he watches me flounder. “Okies,” he finally says, cruelly. "I'll help you. If ye agree to write off the 400 gold you earned yesterday." The proposal is repugnant, a painful reminder of the mortifying hand-job, his hot, virile seed covering my hand, the noxious scent of his musk clinging to my skin, triggering a shameful, unwanted response in my body. (simple_option:"05 old gold","Agree!","Refuse.")

($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")(set:$se_to_stop to "desert dungeon music")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(if:$choice is "Agree!")[The proposal is repugnant, a painful reminder of the mortifying hand-job, his hot, virile seed covering my hand, the noxious scent of his musk clinging to my skin, triggering a shameful, unwanted response in my body. I choke out a desperate “Y- yes,” fighting the tears that sting my eyes. “Fine.” His laughter rings out, echoing through the crypt, chilling me to the bone. Suddenly, the leash tightens around my neck, yanking me forward. I grab onto it, digging my fingers into the cold, metallic links. My body surges forward, my breasts and ass jiggling with the movement, sand cascading down their ample curves. Each tug brings me closer to the edge, my body scraping against the gritty sand, the collar tightening with each pull. The scent of damp earth fills my nose, threatening to suffocate me. But I hold on, letting Snib pull me from the sand's deadly grip. Finally, I roll onto solid ground, coughing up sand and gasping for air. My body is coated in a thick layer of gritty sand, every curve, every crevice filled with the stuff. (hidden_gem:"Snib walks over, a cruel grin plastered on his face.", "Snib strides steadily, sporting a sinister smile smeared smugly across his sneering semblance.") (change_stat:"gold",-400)"That was fun," he chuckles, delivering another sharp slap to my sandy ass. The sudden spank sends my cheeks bouncing, sand flying off them. “An’ thanks for the free handy last night," he adds, his laughter echoing in my ears long after the sound fades. I can do nothing but lay there, my chest heaving, sand gritting between my teeth, the taste of my own humiliation heavy on my tongue. We were far from done with the K'Tarran crypt, and yet, my heart sank knowing that the worst was yet to come. (simple_option:"05 old continue","Continue on...")](else:)[(if:$snib_satisfaction < 2)[“I'd rather die here than give you the satisfaction!” (notification:"Snib's satisfaction was not sufficient!")Snib's face contorts in fury, and for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crosses his features. But then, solidifying his resolution, he turns away. “Have it yer way then, Elise. Stupid girl,” he spits the words out like venom. Standing there, arms akimbo, he watches, likely expecting my resolve to crumble. The sand rises to my chest, each breath I take becoming a laborious, terrifying effort. My heart pounds against my ribcage, throbbing in my ears louder than any war drum. Fear claws at my mind, tearing through the fabric of my willpower. The suffocating embrace of the quicksand challenges every moment I choose to defy him. “Snib, please!” The words slip out, a stark contrast to my earlier defiance. My voice is muffled, strained through layers of dense, damp sand. The time slips by, every passing second a grain of sand sealing my fate. "Oh, fer the love of-" Snib finally mutters. His hand reaches out, clutching the leash. But as his fingers close around it, a disturbing realization dawns. The sand has risen too high, encasing my chest, my breaths shallow and labored. "Snib!" I choke out. He pulls, but it's too late. The force of his tug is but a futile gesture against the merciless sand. "Damn it, Elise!" he curses, pulling with more urgency, but the grip of the dungeon’s ancient trap is unyielding. My vision blurs, the dungeon’s cold, dimly lit walls fading into a darkening periphery. Snib’s figure looms over me, distorted by the veil of imminent darkness encroaching upon my senses. "Should've taken the deal!" he spits out. My heart beats its last frantic tattoo against the constricting sands, and as the darkness swallows me whole, my final thought is a whisper of regret and defiance. The dungeon claims another life, its secrets preserved, its thirst unquenched. ($game_over:"05 old quicksand",5,"You are dead.")](else:)["No! I won’t pay you!" I splutter, spitting out sand. My refusal echoes off the stone walls, ringing with the remains of my dignity. Snib’s laughter is cruel, a sharp contrast to my plight. "Yer a tough one, ain't ya? Would rather sink than give in?" His voice drips with mockery. "I would," I affirm, the sand creeping up, encasing my heavy breasts, my heart pounding in fierce rebellion. "I'll not be demeaned further." (notification:"Snib's satisfaction is sufficient!")His green eyes narrow, studying me with a blend of amusement and irritation. "Fine, yer no fun today," he grumbles, taking a hesitant step back. "But remember this, Elise, you owe me one!" With a huff, he finally extends the end of the leash towards me. "Grab it, you stubborn wench," he commands, his voice laced with exasperation. I reach desperately, my fingers curling around the cold metal. The pull is rough, each tug igniting a fire of sand against my skin, abrading my soft, exposed flesh. My breasts and ass shake with the force of his pulls, the sand falling away in heavy clumps. "C'mon, out you come," Snib mutters under his breath, more to himself than to me. There’s no hiding the irritation in his raspy tone. Finally, I flop onto solid ground next to him, gasping for air, my body a mess of sand and relief. His gaze is hard, lips twisted in annoyance. "You're a pain, woman. A real pain," he declares, before storming off, leaving me to gather my composure alone. I can do nothing but lay there, my chest heaving, sand gritting between my teeth, the taste of my own humiliation heavy on my tongue. We were far from done with the K'Tarran crypt, and yet, my heart sank knowing that the worst was yet to come. (simple_option:"05 old continue","Continue on...")]]

($play:"ambience","dungeon ambience")($play:"song","desert dungeon music")(pic:"ch05/vault.jpg")The narrow walkway gradually expands into a massive, sand-filled cavern, shadows playing off the high, vaulted ceilings. The walls are adorned with ancient carvings, depicting horrid monstrous beings that defy description, their forms twisted and grotesque. Relics of an ancient civilization, one with a far different understanding of the world than our own. And far crueler, as well. The historical value of these carvings is immense - archaeologists from Thuulk would pay dearly to know of them. The adventurer inside me flickers; I yearn to take a closer look, to decipher the stories etched into the walls. But Snib is quick to shatter my moment of awe. "Come on, slut,” he grunts, tugging harshly at my leash. "We ain't here for a history lesson." His narrow-mindedness grates on my nerves, but I swallow down my frustration. With a last, longing look at the carvings, I follow Snib deeper into the crypt. Every step forward feels like a sin, an invasion of this ancient sanctum. Sand crunches under my boots, the rough granules scraping against my skin. I rub at the sand stuck between my thick thighs, trying to clean myself as best as I can while we march onward. The cavern narrows once again into a winding pathway, the carvings on the wall now dim, fading shadows of a past long forgotten. As if on cue, a distant skittering noise echoes through the crypt, bouncing off the stone walls. Out of the darkness, monstrous forms slink into the faint, torchlight. These are not the small, gangly scavengers from before. These Skralls stand taller, their bodies bulkier, eyes gleaming with a cruel, menacing intelligence. There's a predatory hunger in their gaze, their focus solely on us, on our intrusion. "We've got company," I murmur, pulling Whisperwind free from its scabbard. The steel sings in the silent crypt, the sound resonating off the stone walls. "I see 'em," Snib growls, his grip tightening on my leash. “I NEED my magic,” I say. “Please.” “No.” (simple_option:"05 old try","Ugh.")

A cruel grin splits across the lead Skrall's face, its beady eyes alight with sadistic pleasure. It motions to the others, their bodies poised to pounce. I ready my stance, shifting Whisperwind to my right, knees slightly bent. They charge, their bone weapons gleaming in the faint torchlight. I sidestep the first one. My high-heeled boots sink into the sand, each movement precarious, a potential disaster. In a flash, I counter, Whisperwind flashing like liquid silver. I thrust forward, aiming for the Skrall's throat. But my advance is hampered by my cumbersome, jiggling breasts. They smack against my bare arms. I wince, my attack falling short. Even as I struggle to regain my footing, another Skrall lunges towards me. A quick step back, another desperate parry. A riposte. It's as if my body is fighting against me. The scanty bikini strains against my huge tits with every movement, my fat ass-cheeks constantly jiggling, a lewd spectacle for all to see. One Skrall swings its bone club at me. In a desperate attempt, I feign a lunge to the left, my wide hips swinging, my body jolting forward. The Skrall falls for it, shifting its attention. It gives me the split-second I need to swing Whisperwind, the blade singing as it slices through the air. My enemy gurgles and falls away. The Skralls keep coming, relentless in their assault. A handful of sand finds its way into my grasp. With a swift movement, I fling it at a Skrall's face, momentarily blinding it. I take advantage, driving my sword through its chest. It lets out a screech, another body falling limp onto the sandy floor. My triumph is short-lived. They close in from all sides, their monstrous forms a grotesque dance in the dim torchlight. My breaths come out in sharp, ragged gasps, the weight of my new body slowly taking its toll on my energy levels. I’m desperate, my mind racing, trying to find a way out. "Master!" I cry out, the word a bitter taste on my tongue. “Please! My magic!" "No," he says, his voice a cold, hard steel in the echoing chamber. In that moment of desperation, a thought flashes through my mind. I twist my body, Whisperwind raised high. The strain is agonizing, my scant bikini digging deeper into my flesh, my ass jiggling wildly, my breasts straining against the fabric. I bring the blade down in a powerful diagonal cleave, cutting down two Skralls at once. But even as they fall, others take their place. I'm overwhelmed, my body weakening, each parry, each riposte a monumental effort. Despair seeps into my bones, their leering faces growing larger, their cruel laughter filling the cavern. "Master, please!" I plead once again, my voice echoing in the crypt. “We are BOTH going to die!” The situation deteriorates rapidly. (hidden_gem:"With a hasty parry, I manage to divert a Skrall's blow, the impact sending vibrations up my arm, making my oversized breasts jiggle uncontrollably.","With a hurried heave, I handle a Skrall's heavy hammering, the hit hurling harrowing hums up my humerus, hurling my hefty hooters into a hectic hustle.") I retaliate with a quick thrust, Whisperwind finding its mark, but another Skrall lunges, its bony weapon narrowly missing my face. I feel my unruly hair whipping around, obscuring my vision. My heart pounds against my constricted chest, each breath a painful gasp. I attempt a risky maneuver, turning on my high-heeled boots, my ass clapping loudly, my sword slashing through the air. Two Skralls show slash-marks, but the victory is pyrrhic. There are just too many, and I'm weakening. (simple_option:"05 old he gives in","He finally gives in...")

A sudden wrenching pull on my leash snaps me back. A reluctant, growled, "Fine, cowtits. Use it.”(live:10s)[(stop:)($play:"sound","fire spell")] The effect is instant. A torrent of relief floods my body, tingling energy igniting every nerve ending. It feels like awakening from a long, torturous sleep, a sudden realization of power held captive. I feel my magic unshackling, the neutered force within me springing back to life, pulsating and raring to be unleashed. It is the strength of Aldric, the power I once held command over, now rushing back to me in an overwhelming wave. With a roar that shakes the crypt, I throw my head back, the energy building within me focusing into a potent force. "Ignisurge!" I cry, the incantation reverberating off the stone walls. (pic:"ch05/fire.jpg") The world seems to hold its breath. Then, with a cry of release, I unleash a blinding bolt of searing magic, the explosive energy pouring forth from my outstretched hand. It sails through the air, its path a streak of blazing light, before crashing into the nearest Skrall. The creature screams, its form engulfed in flames. Again and again, I cast Searing Bolt, the magic flowing through me, its raw power intoxicating. Each Skrall that falls under my onslaught is a catharsis, a release of pent-up frustration and fear. Each blast is a proclamation of my will to survive, to reclaim my strength despite my humiliating transformation. It is the rage of Aldric, the resilience of Elise, the defiance of a warrior trapped in a lewd spectacle. Snib's eyes widen, witnessing the deadly magic that I wield. His grip loosens on my leash, surprise etching across his features. Perhaps he underestimated the strength that lay dormant within me. Perhaps he underestimated the lengths to which I would go to survive. (hidden_gem:"The Skralls reel back, their cruel laughter replaced by panicked shrieks as they burn under the onslaught of my magic.","The Skralls stagger, their scornful snickers shifting to shrill shrieks, scalded by the storm of my sorcery.") One by one, they fall, until the crypt is silent, save for the crackling flames and my ragged breathing. With the last of the Skralls defeated, I finally lower my arm, the expended magic leaving me exhausted but victorious. The relief is palpable, my body trembling with the aftershocks of the intense fight. But amidst the exhaustion, there's a glimmer of hope, a spark of resolve that refuses to be extinguished. I am Elise, but within me, Aldric still fights, still persists. And with each battle, each hardship, I will reclaim my strength, one step at a time. Breathing heavily, I collapse onto the cold, unforgiving stone floor, my body exhausted from the battle, the echoes of my magic still tingling in my fingertips. My breasts heave with each gasp, my chest tight in the constricting bikini. The weight of victory is bittersweet, tinged with the taste of my humiliation and fear. "Snib," I rasp out, struggling to lift myself up from the ground. "I need... my magic... going forward." The goblin's chuckle echoes in the silence of the crypt. "Admitting weakness already, cowtits?" His voice drips with mockery, his amusement clear in his gleaming eyes. Anger sparks within me. "I am not weak. This body... it's not mine. I need time to... to adjust. Without my magic, I'll be..." His grip tightens on my leash, jerking me forward. The metal collar digs into my neck, cutting off my words. I gasp, my body lurching, my breasts jiggling with the sudden movement. Fear spikes within me as I claw at the collar, desperation seeping into my eyes. "Let's get one thing straight, ye pathetic cunt,” Snib growls, leaning close, his eyes glinting menacingly. "Yer not in charge here. Yer my pet. My toy. If you need magic to play, you’ll prove yourself loyal to me first." (simple_option:"05 old reply","Protest.","Give in.")

(set:$se_to_stop to "skrall king")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(if:$choice is "Give in.")["...yes, master..." the words are ash in my mouth. (change_stat:"snib",1)(change_stat:"heroism",-1)](else:)["I won't be your..." My words are cut short as the collar tightens further, my breath hitching. I feel my face reddening, the strain of the fight and the humiliation making my vision blur. "What's that? Can't hear ye.” His voice is a taunt, a challenge. But I know I have no choice. If I want to survive, I need my magic. And for now, that means swallowing my pride. "I'm s- sorry," I choke out, my voice barely a whisper. “Sorry… Master.” ]Snib's grip loosens, the relief of breath flooding back into my lungs making my knees buckle. "That's better. Alright, cowtits. Only while we're in this crypt. Afterwards, no more magic." His words are a knife in my gut, the reality of my situation settling heavily upon me. "And..." Snib's voice drops to a lecherous purr, his eyes sliding over my body. "You owe me a dance when we're back at my hut." My face heats up, but I stifle the wave of indignation threatening to spill over. Survival first, I remind myself, survival first. (notification:"You agree to dance for Snib later...")(simple_option:"05 old final boss","Continue.")

(pic:"ch05/skrall king.jpg")($play:"sound","skrall king")The air grows colder, the stench of decay and mustiness growing stronger. Through the murky darkness, a hulking figure lumbers into view, its grotesque form illuminated by the flickering torchlight. The Skrall King. He towers over us, a monstrous aberration of the Skralls. Thick, gnarled muscles ripple under his rough hide, his hunched back pulsating with a vile, sickly green light. In his hand, he wields a jagged bone club, the edges gleaming ominously. He bellows a deafening roar, sending shivers of fear through me. I grip Whisperwind tighter, the blade feeling alien in my petite hands. My heart pounds against my constricted chest as the Skrall King charges. Each thundering footfall shakes the ground beneath us, a herald of the oncoming assault. Twisting my body, I manage to barely evade the first blow, my breasts swinging heavily with the movement, the momentum throwing me off balance. With great effort, I regain my footing, my eyes trained on the towering beast. "Ventusfury!" I shout, thrusting my free hand forward. A surge of wind magic roars forth, spiraling towards the Skrall King. It slams into him, tossing him back a few steps. But the creature roars, charging through the gusts towards me. (hidden_gem:"Cursing, I twist and duck, feeling the whoosh of air as the bone club narrowly misses my head.","Cursing crassly, I contort and crouch, catching the whoosh of wind as the weapon whizzes worryingly near my head.") Sweat trickles down my face, dripping onto the cold stone beneath my boots. My magic drains with each spell, the energy ebbing away. I can feel my strength waning, my body growing sluggish, the exhaustion setting in. But I push through, calling upon the last of my reserves. I dart around the Skrall King, landing quick jabs and slashes wherever I can. My wide hips sway with each movement, my plump buttocks clapping with the frantic rhythm of my dance with death. The scant metal bikini bottom scrapes against my sensitive skin, the discomfort merely another challenge to overcome. A lucky break presents itself. I leap forward, plunging Whisperwind into the beast's chest. The Skrall King bellows, stumbling back. But he doesn't fall, his glaring eyes full of rage. I withdraw the blade, stepping back as the beast lashes out in a blind rage. I have no magic left, only my sword and my will to survive. I can feel my breasts heaving against the tight metal bikini, the cool steel chafing my sensitive nipples. My limbs tremble, my body screaming for respite, but I ignore it. With a primal roar, I charge at the Skrall King, a final push against the monstrosity. It's a struggle, a brutal dance of survival. Every swing of my blade, every dodge, every parry is fueled by desperation. My mind is singularly focused, blocking out the distracting jiggle of my oversized breasts, the scrape of the bikini against my skin, the mocking whispers of the goblin behind me. With a final, gut-wrenching scream, I plunge Whisperwind deep into the Skrall King's chest. The beast roars, lashing out with one last futile swipe. His monstrous form shudders, his eyes rolling back, before collapsing onto the cold, stone floor. I stand there, panting heavily, my body trembling from the strain. I feel a wave of exhaustion wash over me, threatening to pull me down. But I fight it, my grip on Whisperwind never wavering. I have won. Despite the odds, despite the humiliating transformation, despite my loss of magic... I have won. But the victory is hollow, a testament to my perseverance rather than my power. I am Elise, but within me, Aldric still fights. (simple_option:"05 old loot","Loot the Skrall King's lair!")

(set:$se_to_stop to "skrall king")(display:"stop sound effect fade")As I stagger around the chamber, panting from exhaustion,I spot a small chest in the corner, barely visible under a pile of broken bones and shredded armor. I reach out, struggling to lift it with my weak arms. With some effort, I manage to pry open the chest. The glimmer of gold coins shines brightly amidst the surrounding gore and grime. I count them quickly - a hundred gold pieces, a fraction of the ten thousand I need to pay Snib and break the curse. A pit forms in my stomach as the enormity of the task ahead truly hits me. But there's something else in the chest too. A worn, dusty book. (change_stat:"gold",100)I pick it up, opening it carefully. Its pages are filled with a flowing, delicate script, recounting tales of a long-forgotten age. As I skim through the pages, I sense that it speaks of the lost K'Tarran ancients, the original denizens of this land. There are sketches of strange artifacts, maps of hidden cities, and cryptic notes on powerful magic. My heart skips a beat. This could be important, a key to understanding the mystery of the K'Tarran ancients. (pic:"ch05/book.jpg","right")But just as I'm about to dive into the journal's intriguing contents, a loud, grating laugh fills the chamber. I look up, my heart sinking as Snib hobbles over to me, his hideous, warty face split in a nasty grin. His massive, veiny schlong swings between his legs, half-engorged below his loincloth, drooling viscous pre-cum. "What's that?" He asks, pointing at the journal with his pudgy finger. I try to explain, but he dismisses me, his attention riveted on the glistening gold coins. As he reaches for them, his monstrous member slaps onto the journal, splattering it with his potent pre-cum. The filthy liquid soaks the delicate parchment. It dribbles down the handwritten notes, smearing the ink and causing the pages to crumble. The musky scent of his virility is overpowering, permeating the room and making my head spin. It's repugnant, suffocating, and the smell alone is enough to make my pussy respond involuntarily, lubricating itself in shameful reaction to his dominance. "No! Sn-" The collar tightens abruptly, choking off my words. I cough, struggling to get out the word "Master". I watch helplessly as he intentionally ruins the journal, his phallus still slowly oozing pre-cum onto it. The stench of it is so thick, so cloying, it clings to everything it touches, impossible to wash off. As he carelessly flicks the ruined journal aside, his cock thwapping against his green thigh with a sloppy wet sound, he smirks at me. His lust-filled eyes roam over my jiggly tits and wide hips, encased in the uncomfortable metallic bikini. His grin widens at the thought of my performance later tonight, my humiliating dance back at his hut. As I watch him scoop up the gold, a sense of despair washes over me. The lost knowledge of the K'Tarran ancients, the mystery of the ancient magic, is now forever out of my grasp, ruined by the thoughtless actions of this vile creature. His repulsive virility has not only claimed my body but also this sliver of hope I had found. And I am left with nothing but the daunting task of finding the remaining 9,900 gold coins to pay him, all while fighting off his sadistic glee and my own involuntary, humiliating reactions to his dominance. (simple_option:"05 old dance","Back in Snib's hut...")

(set:$se_to_stop to "desert dungeon music")(display:"stop sound effect fade")(pic:"ch02/hut.jpg")($play:"ambience","desert dance")Of COURSE he’d make me dance *nude*. There was bound to be a catch, some new low. As I stand there, naked in Snib's dimly lit hut, I feel utterly vulnerable. The air is thick with the musty scent of damp earth and goblin sweat. The intense sensation of my own bare skin, the coolness of the evening air raising goosebumps on my flesh, feels foreign and uncomfortable. The only thing I’m allowed to wear, is the heavy slave collar clamped around my neck. His goblin eyes glint as he reclines on his pile of furs, stroking his 12-inch cock slowly, leisurely, as if he has all the time in the world to savor the spectacle of the evening’s entertainment. Mercifully, I won’t have to touch him tonight. I’m just required to put on a show. Doesn't make it any less revolting.($play:"sex loop",0) I've seen the tavern girls perform before, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of the music. Unsurprisingly, Snib was not to be breaking out a lute. But in my head, I try to conjure some of the dancing songs I know. Something that might help me find a sort of rhythm. *In the heart of Eboncrest, 'neath a weeping willow tree, Sat a Silver Lark, as fair as fair can be. With feathers kissed by moonlight, and a voice so sweet and clear, She'd make the grizzliest warlord shed a solitary tear* (pic:"ch05/dance 1.jpg") (hidden_gem:"Hesitantly, I step into the center of the room. My arms are crossed over my chest, in an attempt to hide my breasts which are threatening to spill over. I chew my bottom lip. I DID promise to do this, but…","Haltingly, haggardly, I haul myself to the heart of the hovel. Hands hoarding heavily, hedging heartily against the heft of my heaving bosom, harboring hopes to hinder a heinous showcase. Gnawing gingerly at my glossed, grim gripped lip. Bonds borne by brash bravery, but...") “Dance, cowtits!” Snib commands, stroking his engorged, pre-drooling member as he sprawls out on his filthy bed. “Gimme somethin good. Ye should be thankin’ me for being so good ta ya today. Savin’ your life and all.” (simple_option:"05 old show tits","Show him your breasts...","Try to cover them...")

(if:$choice is "Try to cover them...")[Snib is sprawled on his bed of furs, his fat green hands wrapped around his grotesquely large cock. It's thick, pulsing, and leaking pre-cum as he pumps leisurely, his disgusting gaze fixated on me. I raise my hands, attempting to shield my heavy, swinging tits from his view. My fingers slightly part above my nipples, the flesh bulging around my palms because even my hands aren’t big enough to cover them completely. I hate how my nipples throb, painfully stiff at the exposure and the chill in the air. (pic:"ch05/dance 1.jpg") I start by rolling my hips. The movement feels strange as I try to channel some of the sensual moves I've seen from tavern dancers, but the sensation of my wide ass cheeks clapping against each other with a lewd smack makes me cringe inwardly. My nipples, frustratingly hard despite-or maybe because of-my embarrassment, push against the palms of my hands. Every slight shift sends a tremor through them, each jolt a sharp spike of unwanted pleasure. "Come on, don't be shy with those cow udders, Elise! I'm tryna get off here!" Snib heckles from his reclined position, his ugly face twisted in a grotesque smirk. His fingers are wrapped around his engorged, green cock, stroking vigorously. The sight is revolting, his cock's veiny girth coated with a sheen of thick, slimy pre-cum, drooling down onto his hairy groin. Reluctantly, I force myself to swing my hips more assertively, trying to ignore the hot flush creeping up my cheeks. The cool air hits my damp pussy, reminding me shamefully of my body's treacherous arousal. My movements are clumsy, my thighs thick and curvaceous, thighs rubbing against each other with each side-to-side motion, creating a soft *schluuup* noise that fills the humid room. *Oh, Silver Lark of Eboncrest, sing your song for me, Guide me through the shadowed vale, across the Azure Sea. Through the hills of Ambergold, where the Crystal Rivers flow, To the Sands of Sapphirine, where the Silver Nightflowers grow.* My hands flutter briefly from my tits in an attempt to put more flair into the dance. Instantly, Snib's eyes light up with perverse glee, and I hate myself for giving him even a moment's satisfaction. "That's it, shake those money-makers, you stupid slut!" Horrified with myself, I quickly cover them again, but not before those grotesque mounds bounce obscenely, a visual feast for the depraved goblin. I writhe, heart pounding, my oversized breasts moving rhythmically against my palms, the sensitive flesh spilling over the sides of my overtaxed hands. The sensation is awful, unnatural. Each twirl and sway makes my body wobble-tits, hips, ass-the exaggerated femininity of my cursed form betraying my every motion. My nipples scrape against my palms, sending sparks of unwanted pleasure shooting through my body. "Stop covering them! Goddammit, I wanna see those big, bouncy jugs you got!" Snib barks, his voice thick with lust as he grips his cock harder, pumping with a wild fervor. In a moment of deranged compliance-or maybe desperate defiance-I let my hands drop to my sides, revealing my enormous, heaving breasts in full. The cool air puckers my thick, pink nipples even as they betray my arousal, standing erect and obscenely visible. This naked, sultry dance is so far from the noble combat rhythms I used to know. Even fighting Skralls in the crypt was about power, about survival. Now, reduced to this erotic display, it feels like everything powerful about me has been stripped away, leaving nothing but this soft, curvy body made for Snib's sick pleasure.](else:)[Gingerly uncrossing my arms, I expose my massive, jiggling breasts to Snib's lecherous gaze. I take an awkward step forward, my hips wobbling from side to side. I've never had to move like this before, with the intent to provide a show. But now, I'm Elise, cursed to please this vile creature. *Oh, Silver Lark of Eboncrest, sing your song for me, Guide me through the shadowed vale, across the Azure Sea. Through the hills of Ambergold, where the Crystal Rivers flow, To the Sands of Sapphirine, where the Silver Nightflowers grow.* I take a few more steps, my hips swinging awkwardly, attempting to imitate a specific type of dance I’d seen at the tavern, set to one of my favorite childhood songs. I can feel the muscles in my lower back and hips working in ways they never had before, the exertion causing beads of sweat to roll down the curve of my back and between my ass cheeks. (pic:"ch05/dance 2.jpg") Now I sway my upper body, a rhythmic movement that makes my breasts jiggle and bounce in a way that feels so alien. This is not a bounce that comes as a result of some attempted combat move - this is a bounce I caused. I wanted to make happen. My long, black hair swings around me, the ends brushing against my nipples. I stumble slightly when I try to incorporate a hip roll, the unfamiliar movement throwing off my balance. I catch myself before I can fall, my ears burning as Snib chuckles. He just continues jacking himself off lazily. I’m stuck between the two opposite evils - dancing too well, and not well enough. Both prospects are quite unappealing. I wince as I audibly hear another spatter of goblin precum hit the floor. I need to lose myself back in the song. ($play:"sex loop","handjob")] *The Silver Lark, she fluttered, on a sultry summer night, Her melody so enticing, her sparkling eyes so bright. With each enchanting trill and coo, she set all hearts ablaze, And in the whispers of the wind, you could hear her lilting praise* (simple_option:"05 old roll hips","Try hip rolls...")

($play:"sex loop","handjob")My thighs and calves scream in protest as I continue the dance. The muscles are unused to the strain, reminding me of my initial struggles with the physicality of my new body. But I push through, repeating the hip roll with more success this time. Next, I lift my arms, sliding my hands up the curve of my body, tracing the swell of my breasts and the narrowing of my waist. Snib's cackles echo through the hut, making my skin crawl. His pungent pre-cum fills the air, its scent nauseatingly potent. I fight the urge to vomit, the smell mixing with the sweat and dust in the room. "Show me your ass!" Snib demands. Blushing fiercely, I turn, revealing my bare backside to him. Doing so purposefully, feels so obscene and wrong. I try to mimic the bouncing I've seen the tavern girls do, the shaking causing my round, firm buttocks to jiggle. The sensation is unfamiliar, and I'm hyper-aware of the cold air against my exposed pussy, causing me to clench involuntarily. Snib's laughter fills the room, the mocking sound echoing in my ears as I continue my dance. His disgusting words, his blatant ogling, and his obscene sounds fill the room, mixing with the squelching of his monstrous member. (pic:"ch05/dance 2.jpg") As I dance, I try to block out Snib's voice, focusing instead on the strange sensation of my body moving in such an intimate, sensual way. The burning in my muscles, the foreign sway of my breasts, the way my hips roll - it's all so strange, so new. But I continue, driven by the need to please Snib and hopefully reduce my debt. The dance seems to last forever, the minutes dragging into what feels like hours. I can't look at Snib, can't bear to see the lewd enjoyment on his face as he continues to stroke himself, his pre-cum leaking onto the dirt floor of the hut. I stumble again as I attempt to bounce my ass, one cheek at a time. The loud clap of my flesh smacking together echoes in the silent hut, my face burning hotter as I push away the humiliation crawling up my spine. "Ah, yes, that's the way," Snib grunts, the wet squelch of his own pleasure filling the room. "Keep doing that." With another deep breath, I straighten up, forcing my body to move in time with an invisible rhythm. One hand reaches behind, gliding over the curves of my buttock as I bounce it rhythmically. The sensation of my own touch sends a shiver down my spine, my heart thudding heavily in my chest. "Faster, my pretty," Snib barks, his voice hoarse, the frenzied rhythm of his pleasure escalating. I grit my teeth, increasing the speed of my movements, the smacking sound growing louder as my ass claps together. Each bounce brings an unwanted tingle between my legs, a strange sensation that I try hard to ignore but continues to persist. (simple_option:"05 old arch back","Go faster...")

(pic:"ch05/dance 3.jpg")With a soft whimper, I arch my back, accentuating the curve of my rear as I continue to bounce. My legs quiver, fatigued from the awkward movements, but the persistent command from my collar forces me to continue. The physical exertion has a strange rhythm to it, and with every bounce, I find myself sinking deeper into the movements, my body adjusting to the unfamiliar sensations.($play:"sex loop","handjob") "More, more!" Snib demands, his breath ragged. I bend my knees, adding a vertical bobbing movement to my hips. My ass jiggles with each bounce, the intensity of the sensation almost blinding. The next movement is the hardest, my hips making a circle as they bob up and down. It's awkward, uncomfortable, but the collar doesn't allow me any respite. I push on, forcing my body to adapt to the lewd dance. The wet squelching of Snib's pleasure ratchets up a notch, the obscene sound permeating the room as I bounce my ass cheeks rhythmically. I try to focus on the physicality of the movement, on the heat building in my thighs, on anything but the deep, grunting noises he's making. "Look at you, wiggling your ass like a common whore," Snib sneers, his voice thick with lust and nearing climax. My cheeks burn at his words, shame igniting a fire in my belly. The wet, squelching sound gets louder, more frantic. It's followed by a grunt so primal and raw, it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand. “Just like a bitch in heat." A shudder runs through me, my mind reeling back to the three times I had been forced to witness this. Once, when he had defiled my sword, Whisperwind. Then, two nights ago, when he came while I was masturbating. And then of course, last night in the tavern bathroom. All three of those times were absolute disasters for my mental state… so I force myself not to look. As I continue to bounce, I can hear the disgusting spurting sounds, thick and sloppy. The air in the room gets even denser, the musky scent making me lightheaded. "NGGH... yes... keep that ass bouncing," he growls. (simple_option:"05 old he cums","He cums...")

(pic:"ch05/dance 4.jpg")($play:"sex loop",0)($play:"sound","cum 1")The first thick rope of his climax hits the ground with a wet slap, the color a sickening shade of yellowish-white. The reality of what it is, and what it signifies, hits me hard. My stomach churns and I gasp, my body stilling for a moment in shock. “Don’t stop bouncin’, whore," he commands, the word making me wince. I force my body to move again, the rhythmic clapping of my ass cheeks resuming. His grunts get louder, the splurting noises intensifying. I can almost feel the heat of it, the virility that's tangible even from a distance. <span class='cum3'>I'm hit by a stray spurt, a hot, slimy glob landing on my butt...</span> I squeal, my body jerking in surprise and revulsion. The thick liquid is disgustingly warm, sticking to my skin in a way that's really unsettling. (pic:"ch05/dance 5.jpg") I have no choice but to keep moving, to keep bouncing, even as my mind reels at the feeling of it on my skin. The overwhelming musk of him fills my nostrils. There's an unexpected heat that flares in my belly, a reaction to the dominating display. His grunts turn into a continuous groan, the spurting sounds becoming a cacophony of grotesque splurts and squelches. I can't help but feel my body react, a dampness between my thighs that I try to ignore. A part of me is horrified at the response, at the fact that my body could find pleasure in such a demeaning situation. I shudder as the last spurt hits the ground with a wet splat, the reality of the moment sinking in. I had caused this. My dance, my humiliation, had brought Snib to this climax. And yet, there was a part of me, a small, dark part of me, that took a twisted sort of satisfaction from it. That I had the power to make him lose control. And then, just like that, it's over. The room falls silent except for Snib's heavy breathing and the echoing clap of my ass cheeks. The scent of his climax lingers, a heavy musk that's hard to ignore. I continue to bounce, the dampness between my thighs a stark reminder of the raw virility on display. (simple_option:"05 old stop","The collar allows you to stop...")

($play:"ambience","desert dance")My body trembles as the collar finally allows me to stop, the residual heat from the dance still simmering under my skin. I swallow hard, trying to dispel the lightheadedness from the intense sensory overload. There's relief too, an overwhelming gratitude that it's finally over, that only one stray rope of his spunk had hit me. But the worst part? The single strand of Snib's disgusting climax smeared across my ass, a tangible symbol of my shame and humiliation. It's warm and sticky, grossly reminding me of the alpha goblin's climax. And despite the revulsion, despite the self-loathing, I can't help but shudder at the primal show of dominance, a stirring deep within me that I'm too afraid to acknowledge. Once the room stops spinning, I grab a nearby rag, wiping the sticky residue off my butt. The texture of his climax is unlike anything else, thick and lumpy. It's like trying to remove a stubborn stain, a mark that refuses to be erased. (simple_option:"05 old that night","Later that night...")

(pic:"ch05/straw.jpg")($play:"ambience","desert indoors")Night falls heavily on Snib's crude shack, the air thick with an ominous silence that's only occasionally punctuated by the braying of some distant, nocturnal creature. A chill seeps into my pores from the cool straw that serves as my makeshift bed, sending icy tendrils coursing along my spine. I lay there, naked, my legs restlessly shifting on the rough straw as my mind races with unbidden thoughts. It's in these solitary moments, the deep quiet of the night as my only companion, that the awful reality of my predicament hits me with even greater force. The taint of Snib's belittling words, the sting of humiliation from my performance, the lingering scent of his overpowering, alpha musk... they claw at my sanity, attempting to shred my resolve. The aching truth, the gnawing guilt eats at me, "Did I... did I cheat on Elara by doing that? Dancing for him?” Snib's snores echo through the darkness, the sound grating against my ears. I wince at every gruff grunt, each strangled wheeze a stark reminder of the loathsome goblin and the power he wields over me. The indignity of it all, his sick enjoyment of my degradation, it sends a wave of repulsion washing over me. And yet, to my utter shame, there's another sensation that's been quietly gnawing at the corners of my awareness, insidiously seeping into my consciousness. A tantalizing wetness pooling between my thick thighs, a throbbing pulse in my unfamiliar core. A flood of arousal that betrays my horrified mind, my body responding in the most mortifying manner to the goblin's crude dominance. Gritting my teeth against the shaming heat of my need, I hesitantly let my hands explore my soft, jiggling curves once again. My palms glide over the taut mounds of my G-cup breasts, the nipples pebbling under the gentle kneading. The sensations are still new, foreign, a part of me instinctively recoils from them. But another part of me is getting familiar. (pic:"ch03/masturbate 1.jpg")($play:"sex loop",0) (simple_option:"05 old however","Masturbate.")

(pic:"ch03/masturbate 3.jpg")($play:"sex loop","elise masturbating")My heart thuds heavily against my rib cage, a staccato rhythm that syncs with the wandering trails of my exploring hands. They wander lower, the fingertips tracing the enticing dips and curves of my plump hips, my thick thighs. Then, almost as if they have a mind of their own, they dip even further. A strangled gasp escapes my lips as my fingers brush against the swollen lips of my sopping pussy, the intimate touch sending a jolt of wicked pleasure ricocheting through my heated body. I'm lying on my front now, the cool straw tickling my nipples, my pert ass raised high in the air. *This weird masturbation position I’ve gotten used to...* My hand snakes behind, the fingers delving into the moist depths of my slick pussy. A shudder courses through me, the soft mewls of pleasure flowing unhindered from my parted lips. My body jerks rhythmically, instinctively thrusting against my questing fingers. Each dip of my fingers into my squelching pussy, each tingle of pleasure that my roaming fingers evoke from my engorged clit, only fans the flames of my arousal. It’s an intoxicating brew of humiliation and hedonistic pleasure. I can’t help but remember the first time I found myself lost in this solo dance of passion, the memory of that massive climax adding an extra edge of humiliation to my already intense arousal. My hips gyrate against my hand, my body succumbing to the overpowering tide of carnal desire. My mind swirls with indecent images of my round ass in the air, my jiggling tits crushed against the cool straw, my slick digits rhythmically plunging into my pulsating cunt. It’s all too much, the crescendo of lewd sensations hurtling me towards a precipice that I’m both desperate and terrified to reach. (hidden_gem:"I’m on the brink now, my body shaking, the knot of tension in my belly threatening to unravel at any moment.","I'm inching inexorably toward implosion, my body bustlingly bouncing, the taut thread of turmoil in my torso teetering on tumultuous termination.") My chest heaves with my ragged breaths, my whimpers of pleasure echoing in the stillness. But I pull back, biting down a groan as I withdraw my fingers from my throbbing center, the impending climax fading to a dull, frustrated pulse. The night stretches on, and I'm left squirming in my arousal, the release still a distant, maddening promise. But just as I start to tumble into the abyss, a grating voice slices through the thick silence, dragging me back to the harsh reality. (simple_option:"05 old stops you","Snib stops you!")

($play:"ambience","desert indoors")(pic:"ch03/masturbate 4.jpg")($play:"sex loop",0)(set:$se_to_stop to "elara cooking")(display:"stop sound effect")“Slut!” Snib's crude, jeering voice permeates the quiet darkness, shattering the bubble of my desperate solitude. "Put those fingers away. No cumming for you, tonight.” An unwanted whimper escapes my throat as the intrusive collar tightens around my neck, like a vice of humiliation and obedience. Its cold, metallic embrace constricts my throat, interrupting the decadent dance of my fingers. My hand jerks away as if scalded, a jolt of unreleased tension lurching through me. I'm left gasping, robbed of the precious release that had been so tantalizingly within reach. For a moment, I allow myself the luxury of pure, unadulterated indignation. But the hard, restricting pressure of the collar serves as a stark reminder of my captive state. I'm forced to curl my trembling fingers into a fist, the slickness of my own arousal cooling on my skin as the wave of need crashes against the harsh barrier of Snib's command. The air seems to thicken, congealing into a swamp of frustration and indignity. The taste of unfulfilled desire is bitter on my tongue as I curl up on the straw mat, my body coiled tight with pent-up energy. Every muscle is tense, every nerve alight with thwarted passion. A shudder racks my voluptuous body, the cool night air pricking my hypersensitive skin. The curve of my generous breasts heaves with each ragged breath, my flushed cheeks burning in the dim light. My plump ass presses into the rough straw beneath me as I twist onto my side, the sensation a hollow mockery of the pleasure I had been denied. My legs coil tighter, thighs pressing together in a vain attempt to alleviate the throbbing ache between them. But there is no escape from the relentless pulse of my arousal. My heart pounds a furious rhythm against my ribcage, the echo of my thwarted climax pounding in my ears. I squeeze my eyes shut, the darkness behind my eyelids swarming with lewd images of my own debauchery. My lush lips part in a silent moan, a plea for a release that's denied to me. The night stretches on, each second an eternity of longing and resentment. Each rustle of straw, each gust of wind seems to mock my predicament, the torment of my unfulfilled desire a cruel serenade. The hot sting of tears prick at the corners of my eyes, my breath hitching as I try to stifle the sobs. My body writhes, twists, shifts restlessly on the straw bed, the ceaseless ache of my arousal a constant, torturous companion. Eventually, the tears dry up, the sobs fading into ragged, weary breaths. The tension in my body slowly unravels, leaving a dull ache in its wake. Sleep, when it finally comes, is fitful and restless, my dreams haunted by images of unfulfilled desire and cruel dominance. Even in the sanctuary of slumber, there is no escape from the torment of my captive existence. *Now, the Silver Lark lies captive, in a cage of cruel decree, Her wings are clipped, song stifled, she’s longing to be free. O whither wilt thou flutter, O Lark of Eboncrest? No songbird tied so cruelly, can ever love her nest* (simple_option:"06 begin","The next day...")

(chapter_title:6,"The Visit") (pic:"chapters/06.jpg","center","borderless") <div class='options'>To be continued.</div> <div class='options'>(link:"Return to the chapter menu")[(set:$sidebar to true)(goto:"chapters")]</div>

<div class='tw-story-title'>A Comprehensive Treatise on the Goblinoid Species</div> **Dr. Ignatius Bramblethorne, M.A., D.Phil., F.R.S., Chair of Evolutionary Xenobiology, University of Thuulk** *Being a Complete Natural History of the Green Plague, their Customs, Physiognomy, and Terrible Decline* (display:"divider") **Anatomical Description** The common goblin stands between three and four feet in stature, though chieftains may reach five feet when well-fed from birth-a phenomenon my colleague Professor Blackwater terms "nutritional caste determination." The skin ranges from pond-scum green to deep forest emerald, typically mottled with warts that weep a mild irritant when aroused. The skull is overlarge for the body, housing surprisingly complex neural matter that has, tragically, atrophied toward singular purpose over recent generations. Most striking to the observer is the grotesque sexual dimorphism. Males sport genitalia that would shame a donkey-nine to fourteen inches when engorged, thick as a maiden's wrist, purple-headed and perpetually weeping that damnable precum that has doomed so many human settlements. The testes hang like overripe melons, visibly churning with their cursed productivity. By contrast, the increasingly rare females possess almost human-like beauty in miniature: violet or amber eyes, curves that would charm any tavern, and most remarkably, functioning intellects undimmed by the reproductive madness that has consumed their males. **Goblin Society** Here I must reference the seminal work of Professor Angharad Fflur, whose *Dialects of the Dark Deeps* documents the goblin transformation from a culture of surprising sophistication to the current state of roving rape-gangs. Goblins once possessed art, literature (crude but extant), even rudimentary philosophy centered on their deity Storak and his emanations. Cave paintings in the Ironspike Mountains depict complex theological debates rendered in surprising detail. But the species has fallen victim to its own evolutionary success. As Professor Fflur writes: "The goblin male who could breed human females without consent gained advantage over he who courted goblin females. Thus began the spiral." Today, ninety-three births in one hundred produce males. The remaining females preserve what culture remains while watching their species commit slow suicide through genetic bottlenecking. Modern goblins organize in three primary structures: **Roving Warbands** - Groups of fifteen to fifty males, usually kin-related, who raid human settlements. They follow seasonal patterns, moving between water sources in the Shifting Sands. Leadership belongs to whoever's cock has proven most prolific-typically measured by counting pregnant captives. **Warren-Fortresses** - Permanent structures like the infamous Fortress of Sorrow, where hundreds of goblins maintain breeding pens. Here, captured women are kept in states of perpetual pregnancy, their minds eroded by pheromone exposure until they beg for their next insemination. I witnessed such a place during the Crown's failed purge of '39-the sounds still wake me at night. **Gobborees** - Not much is known, but these are periodic festivals where multiple tribes converge to trade captives, compete for breeding rights, and engage in the *Grulkaz-Naks* (fertility ceremonies). The notorious Griznak Gobboree has become a slave market of such depravity that even hardened mercenaries refuse escort duty in the region. **Religious Decay** The goblin pantheon, once complex, has collapsed into worship of Storak the Progenitor, whose theological teachings have been perverted into simple breeding imperatives: - **Grognar** (Might Makes Right) - Once a principle of justified leadership, now merely "biggest cock rules" - **Grulkaz** (Sanctity of Seed) - Transformed from reverence for life into compulsive spreading of genetic material - **Drulg** (Eternal Return) - The belief that dead goblins reincarnate through Storak's cock, justifying endless reproduction My late colleague Sister Catherine of the Abbey of Flux made the mistake of attempting theological dialogue with goblin shamans. She returned three months later, belly swollen with twins, unable to speak of anything but her need for "green blessing." The Abbey was dissolved shortly after. **Linguistic Corruption** The goblin tongue, Goblish, itself provides heartbreaking evidence of their decline. Ancient texts (when translated) reveal complex poetry, philosophical arguments, even tender love songs between goblin pairs. Modern Goblish has lost two-thirds of its vocabulary, replaced by over two hundred terms for human female anatomy and the act of forced breeding. As Professor Fflur notes: "They literally no longer possess words for concepts like 'consent' or 'courtship'-these have been replaced by variations on 'mounting' and 'seeding.'" **Pheremones** It bears repeating, as public safety demands: goblin reproductive chemistry represents an existential threat to human civilization. Their semen contains compounds that: - Can trigger immediate ovulation regardless of cycle - Dissolve existing pregnancies to make room for goblin offspring - Rewrite neural pathways to create breeding addiction - Alter vaginal pH to be hostile to human sperm, even long after contact - Trigger production of nutrients specifically suited to goblin offspring The famous Thuulk Incident (detailed in another of my treatises) demonstrated that even academic observation of goblin mating carries risk. The very air during their rutting becomes saturated with pheromones. Three of my research assistants, despite wearing herb-soaked masks, still reported "inappropriate moisture" and "womb-aching" after merely watching a goblin masturbate through reinforced glass. No folk-belief has killed more women than the tale of the wife too loving, or the maiden too strong-willed, to be touched by goblin musk. I have traced eleven such stories to their source. In every case the exposure proved too brief to matter, and the woman credited her survival to virtue rather than arithmetic. The tale travels regardless, and other women, certain of their own hearts, walk willingly into danger. Will may delay surrender. It does not make the flesh immune. A further distinction is poorly understood even among physicians. Musk breathed in may produce cravings, disturbed sleep, and compliance; severity varies with dose, duration, and the woman herself. Symptoms often recede once exposure ends, and moonshade hastens recovery. Seed absorbed through the womb commonly deepens the compulsion and leaves the body more susceptible to later exposure. This, too, can be reversed, especially with prompt treatment and vigilant care, but relapse comes easier and recovery may take days or months. No honest physician promises the same course twice. **Genetic Catastrophe** Here lies the great irony scholars have identified: goblin evolutionary "success" will likely ensure the eventual doom of their species. By breeding exclusively with human females, they no longer combine genetic material naturally except in isolated instances. Each generation is essentially clone-spawn, accumulating mutations without the cleansing of sexual recombination. The massive genitalia, impossible seminal production, and pheromonal weapons that make them such effective breeders also render them increasingly unable to survive without human wombs. Dr. Marcus Whitmore of the Royal College estimates complete genetic collapse within eight generations. Yet those eight generations could see human civilization overrun by billions of increasingly desperate, increasingly mutated goblin males seeking wombs to fill. **Case Study: The Traitor-Maiden of Westfall** Lady Catherine Blackwood, daughter of Earl Blackwood, was taken during the Westfall Raids. Rescued six months later, she had to be physically restrained from returning to her captors. Her testimony, given under truth-spell compulsion: *"You don't understand. The smell makes everything else meaningless. First dose on my tongue and my womb opened like a flower. Second dose and I forgot my own name. By the third day, I was begging them to breed me harder. My body CHANGED. My cervix learned to suck at their cocks. My womb started producing this sweet ache that only goblin seed could cure. When they rescued me, I tried to kill them. I would have done anything to get back to my masters. I still dream of the weight of their balls on my chin, the stretch of their cocks in my throat. If you hadn't chained me, I'd be crawling back right now, presenting my hole for breeding."* She birthed triplets four months later. All male. All pure goblin despite her human womb. **A Species in a Terminal Frenzy** The goblin species has achieved short-term evolutionary victory at the cost of its long term success. They have become nothing more than walking breeding apparatus, their culture dissolved in cum, their future written in the swollen bellies of human women. Each generation grows more grotesque: larger cocks, more copious ejaculate, stronger pheromones, weaker minds. The rare female goblins represent the last echo of what they once were-clever, cultured, even capable of love. But they birth only males when bred by their own kind, and increasingly refuse to mate at all, watching in horror as their species devolves into rape-machinery. We stand witness to a civilization fucking itself to death while dragging humanity down with it. The goblins will not survive another century. The question remains: will we?

<div class='tw-story-title'>The Bone-Readers of the Shifting Wastes</div> **From the journals of Ser Marcus Thorne, Knight-Cartographer of the Crown** Call them Sandwalkers if you must-the Valarian name for a people who name themselves nothing at all. They say a man who speaks his tribe's true name gives enemies power over his blood. So they are the *Kheth-ai-Marrow* in their own tongue-"Those Who Read the Bones"-and they will cut your throat for using even that much without permission. They are human. That must be stated clearly, for the Crown's propaganda paints them as something else. But they have walked the Shifting Sands and the surrounding marshlands for so many generations that the land has... *changed* them in their souls as well as bodies. No census has survived the attempt to count them. They move in tribal bands of ten to fifty, following water-patterns the rest of us cannot perceive. The desert tribes (*Kheth-Suul*) and the marsh tribes (*Kheth-Muur*) share blood but not territory, meeting only at the great Bone-Moots held when the red star rises-every seven years by Valarian counting. **Everything begins and ends with bone.** A Sandwalker child is born onto a mat woven from the finger-bones of ancestors. At the age of eight, they consume the rendered marrow of their great-grandmother. At fourteen, they kill their first worthy enemy and crack that enemy's skull to read the future written in the sutures. This is not metaphor. I have *witnessed* the Bone-Seers work. They spread the fragments on stretched hide, apply oils that make the calcium fluoresce in moonlight, and read patterns that are-Ephemerals help me-*accurate*. The magic-for it *is* magic, whatever the University's dithering academics claim-appears to derive from belief in the *Kharaketh*, the Bone-Mother, whom they worship as the only god worth fearing. She speaks through calcium and kerite. Every Sandwalker carries a pouch of ancestor-fragments, and consulting them before any significant decision is as automatic as breathing. The Sandwalkers organize around three principles: **Blood** (*Suuk*): Your maternal lineage determines your tribe. Men marry outward; women stay. A man's children belong to his wife's people, not his own. This creates webs of obligation spanning the entire Sandwalker nation-your nephew might be your enemy's son, your cousin might lead the tribe that burned your father's camp. **Bone-Debt** (*Kharath*): When one tribe wrongs another, the aggrieved party may claim *Kharath*-the right to name a price in blood, gold, or flesh. This debt is *sacred*. A Sandwalker who refuses valid Kharath becomes *Suuk-eth*-bloodless, tribeless, fair game for any blade. I have seen a chieftain surrender his only daughter to satisfy Kharath for two stolen goats. The system seems mad until you realize: it *prevents* wars. **Word-Bond** (*Veth*): A Sandwalker's sworn word binds tighter than Valarian contracts. They do not understand our concept of "diplomatic flexibility." If a Sandwalker says he will kill you at sunrise, he *will* kill you at sunrise unless you kill him first. If he says he will spare you in exchange for tribute, you *will* be spared.They cannot conceive of breaking Veth. They also cannot conceive of mercy once Veth is spoken. Here I must speak frankly of customs that offend Valarian sensibilities. When tribes conflict without clear Kharath-boundary disputes, insults of insufficient weight, trade disagreements-they may instead exchange *Muratheen*: "peace-wombs." Each tribe sends one woman of breeding age to the other for a period of seven seasons. These women bear children for their host tribe, cementing alliance through blood. The Muratheen are not slaves. They hold honored positions, may refuse individual men (though not the role itself), and return home with gifts and status. Their children are raised by the host tribe but know their mother's people as "second-blood." The practice has created such tangled kinship that most Sandwalker tribes cannot war without killing cousins. I asked a chieftain's daughter-a Muratheen herself-if she resented her fate. She looked at me as if I had asked whether she resented breathing. Less savory is the *Greth-Muraat*: the Flesh-Tithe demanded from outsider settlements that encroach on Sandwalker territory. When Valarian farmers or miners establish themselves too close to tribal lands, the local chieftain rides to negotiate. If the settlers refuse to leave, they may instead pay Greth-Muraat: one woman per season, surrendered to the tribe for breeding. The children remain with the tribe. The woman may return after bearing, or may stay if she wishes. I am told-though I did not witness-that the Sandwalkers possess herbs and techniques that make the bearing... not unpleasant. That women who have paid Greth-Muraat sometimes return voluntarily. That the frontier towns closest to tribal lands have abnormally high rates of "missing" women who reappear years later, tan-skinned children in tow, speaking of husbands they cannot name. The Crown officially condemns this practice. The Crown also officially ignores the dozen settlements that have paid Greth-Muraat for three generations rather than face tribal war. **Daily Life** The desert tribes follow the *Suul-keth*-the sand-road, a network of underground water sources known only to Bone-Seers. They live in hide tents that can be struck in minutes, traveling by night when the heat relents. Their wealth is measured in *karath-beasts*: the great armored lizards they ride, each worth a dozen horses. Men hunt. Women weave, brew, and read bones. Children learn to kill before they learn to count. The marsh build no permanent structures, instead living on floating platforms of woven reed and bone that drift through the Fever Marshes' channels. They harvest the *muraat-lotus*, a flower whose pollen induces prophetic dreams-and, in sufficient quantity, permanent madness. Their Bone-Seers are said to be the most powerful. Both branches practice the *Keth-Suuul*: the Silence Hunt. Once per season, the entire tribe goes without speech for seven days while hunting a great beast-sand-wyrm, marsh-drake, or the terrible bone-cats that stalk the waste's edges. The hunt teaches that words are *precious*, not to be wasted. A Sandwalker who speaks unnecessarily is considered foolish; one who lies is considered dead. **Relations with Goblins** The Sandwalkers despise goblin culture-or rather, despise its *absence*. A people who break Veth without thought, who take without Kharath, who breed without Muratheen-bonds, are barely people at all in Sandwalker eyes. Yet they trade. Goblin camps near tribal territory sometimes pay tribute in metals, raw materials, and-reportedly-captured Valarian women the Sandwalkers might find useful for Greth-Muraat obligations. In return, the tribes refrain from exterminating the green pests. More rarely, individual goblins earn *Suuk-keth*-blood-tolerance-by performing some service for a tribe. These goblins may camp near tribal lands unmolested, trade freely, even claim Veth-protection from other goblins. The arrangement is pragmatic. Sandwalkers are few; goblins breed like locusts. Better to have some green-skins bound by Sandwalker law than to fight them all. A goblin who breaks Veth with a Sandwalker tribe, however, brings down retribution on his entire camp. The tribes do not distinguish between "guilty goblin" and "goblin." **My story** I spent three seasons among the *Kheth-Suul* of the Red Waste. I watched a chieftain's son die of fever and saw his mother crack his skull with her own hands to read his final prophecy. I saw a Muratheen-woman choose to remain with her host tribe, kissing her birth-mother goodbye without tears because the bones had foretold exactly this. I saw a people who have decided what they believe and live it completely. We could learn from them, if we were not too frightened to try.

<div class='tw-story-title'>Skrall</div> (pic:"ch05/skrall fighter.png") **Name:** Skrall **Classification:** Subterranean K'tarran remnant. Humanoid by blood, no longer by manner. **Typical Habitat:** Sealed K'tarran ruins, oil-veined caverns, bone-galleries beneath the desert. Skrall are shorter than men, bent, knuckle-low, bark-rough, clawed, and oil-black. Their faces are bare skeletal ridges with lipless teeth and sunken red or purple eyes. Their bodies, clothes, and weapons are coated in black oil. Their cocks are long, oil-slick, tapered, and knotted. Thuulk fragments place them at the close of the **K'tarran age**. The texts disagree on what they were: K'tarrans, servants, ritual flesh, or inheritors. The K'tarran world collapsed. The walls and pipeworks remained. Children survived below. Their line stayed in the ruins until it became the Skrall. They are not deathless. They die by wound, fall, or starvation. They simply do not rot with the seasons. Skrall life runs on K'tarran oil-machinery. The old pipeworks still seep, and each warren harvests its own brew. - **Black base:** worn daily; now bone-deep. Their sweat runs black and their breath catches flame. - **Clear oil:** dries to a mirror sheen; used on wounds and the throat-bones of the dead. - **Amber oil:** wakes heat and fertility. - **Red oil:** painted on knives, faces, and ritual tools. - **Pale oil:** used to anoint a new King. They inherit the oils, not the recipes. Most warrens are male, inbred, and old. Females are rare. Those that remain are kept by the King and bred only when the moon-rite permits. Skrall raids take daughters, not grain or gold. Captives are kept as broodstock in the deeper galleries, anointed and bound until they take, break, or are replaced. Each warren is ruled by a **Skrall King**. (pic:"ch05/skrall king.jpg") The King is oldest, most oil-soaked, and rarely challenged. He speaks the most **old K'tarran**, mostly ritual words: binding, awakening, naming the sleepers, and old commands. His tongue may still carry sovereign-words from the Collar's era. - They move bent, low, in twos and threes. A pack of seven is a war-band. - They prefer **traps**: deadfalls, burning oil-slicks, spike-pits, and re-laid quicksand. - They fight with **scavenged weapons**: old K'tarran blades, flint, bone, fallen sky-iron. - They do not parley. They do not quarter. The King's word is the only word. - Common Skrall is wet clicks, hisses, and bone-rattle. Deep words are kept by the King and shamans. The Skrall remember that their ancestors *moved the mountains and bound the sleepers and walked clean.* They do not remember why. Their rites survive as motions without meaning. Surface accounts are rare. Survivors were usually allowed to leave, broken on purpose. They describe oil-glass thrones, slick black faces, crude in still air, and a deep wheel-sound. *"A Skrall is what a man becomes when he is left in the dark with the old machineries and instructed never to die."*

<div class='tw-story-title'>A Reckoning of Days</div> **Name:** The Reckoning. The Tally of the Path. The priests call keeping it the Vigil; the crown's clerks call it the Count; the goblins do not call it anything and breed by the moon regardless. **Classification:** The common calendar of Valaria and the Triad faith. One year, thirteen moons, fifty-two sennights, and a single day that belongs to none of them. **The Path and the Wheel** The Triad teaches that every moment wears three faces. Eon is the Was, the deep and the dead and all debts owed backward. Flux is the Is, the turning, the work of the living hand. Verge is the Shall-Be, the edge, the thing not yet arrived. Time is the Wheel walking the Path, and the priest's first duty is to keep its place. To lose the count is to let the Wheel slip, and a slipped Wheel is how old things wake. So the calendar is built three times over, the same shape at every size, that no one may lose the day: the day, the sennight, the year. **The Sennight** A sennight is seven days. Each god keeps two; the seventh keeps the gods. Eon holds Eonsday, marked Eo, for the dead and the debts, and Ashday, As, for mourning and penance. Flux holds Fluxday, Fl, the market and the great working, and Toilday, To, the long grind. Verge holds Vergeday, Ve, when oaths are sworn and plans are laid, and Omensday, Om, when signs are read for what comes. Last stands Stillday, St, which no god claims, a small Silence kept at every sennight's end for rest and vigil. **The Moon** A moon is four sennights, twenty-eight days exactly. Because the Hollow keeps no weekday, every moon opens on Eonsday and closes on Stillday, year upon year without drift. The Path never loses its place. Common folk still reckon by it without a priest near, counting a debt's due, a woman's terms, and a goblin's whelping by the same twenty-eight, so that nine of Harvestmoon means the same to a midwife as to a tax-clerk. **The Year and the Three Tides** A year is thirteen moons: twelve walk the Path, and the thirteenth keeps the Silence. The twelve are gathered into three Tides, one for each god. Eontide, the cold remembering, opens the year as the frost lets go - Hoarmoon for the last frost and the graves, Wakemoon for the thaw and the wake, Sapmoon for the sowing, Quickmoon for the green and the rut. Fluxtide, the working, is the season of light and labour - Brightmoon for the lengthening days, Highmoon for the sun at its height, Brassmoon for the brass sky and the killing heat, Dustmoon for the drought and the thirst. Vergetide, the edge, turns the year down toward the dark - Harvestmoon for the reaping, Embermoon for the turning leaves and the first hearth-fires, Wanemoon for the slaughter and the salting, Gravemoon for the last cold and the door of the Silence. After Gravemoon comes the thirteenth, Stillmoon - no Tide, no god, the dead heart of winter, given over to vigil against things that should not wake. Gravemoon, Stillmoon, and Hoarmoon together are the Long Dark in common speech, and most of the old songs against digging are set in them. **The Hollow** One day each year stands outside every moon and every sennight: the Hollow, the hinge between Stillmoon's close and Hoarmoon's open. It carries no weekday and no number. The priests say the Wheel rests upon the Hollow and the count is held by no hand, which is why the child's line warns you not to dig on the Hollow Day. Thirteen moons of twenty-eight days make three hundred and sixty-four; the Hollow makes the year three hundred and sixty-five. **The Reckoning of Years** Years are tallied from the Sealing, when the Triad first set its Vigil over the bound Sleepers, and a year so counted is written with a leading V, the Year of the Vigil. The deep early count is the Suthar's quarrel, not the crown's; common ledgers run from the re-struck Tally of the Iron Concords, and the present year is V1187. The crown also dresses each year in a heraldic beast for proclamation and coin, so that this is likewise the Year of the Griffin - but tax, term, and tithe are all kept by the Vigil number. **Writing the Date** A full date names the weekday, the day of the moon, the moon, and the year: Vergeday, the ninth of Harvestmoon, V1187. Common writing shortens it to the day, the moon, and the year, as 9 Harvestmoon, V1187. A priest's ledger tightens it further to the two-letter weekday and the three-letter moon - Ve 9 Hrv, V1187 - the moons running Hoa, Wak, Sap, Qik, Bri, Hig, Bra, Dus, Hrv, Emb, Wan, Grv, and Sti. **The Day Itself** Within a single day the Triad keeps its three faces also. Eon's watch is the dark before dawn, the hours that belong to the past; Flux's watch is the working light from dawn to dusk; Verge's watch is the falling dark from dusk to midnight, when the day's edge tips over into the next. In the breeding-camps there are no priests to ring the hours, so the goblins keep them by drum, the muster drum at dawn and the deep drum at dark, and a woman soon learns to tell the watch by the colour of the sky.

<div class='tw-story-title'>K'tarran</div> **Name:** K'tarran. Kha'tarran in eastern script. Ktarra in southern caravan-tongues. The Builders in folk-Common. The Paid in binding-houses. The Pawned in Suthar songs. **Classification:** Vanished. Older than Thuulk, the road, and the Troll Wars. K'tarrans were tall, pale, fine-boned, long-limbed, and violet-veined at throat, wrist, groin, and breast. The priestly caste ran taller. Frescoes give them narrow waists, broad hips, cold skin, and unsettling beauty. They did not build upward. Their cities descended in tiers beneath ceremonial gates and surface stones. High tiers were low status. Priests lived deepest. Sun was for labourers. The K'tarrans served three Sleepers: ($lorebook_entry:"Maraan","other"), ($lorebook_entry:"Thul'nara","other"), and ($lorebook_entry:"Zor'ethun","other"). Later texts split their hands into smaller names, Vellumar, Skoth-Anur, Iruun, Drev, and Mama Thraal, but the Suthar read those as ritual titles, not separate gods. Maraan changed flesh. Thul'nara changed occupancy of self. Zor'ethun changed numbers. The K'tarrans learned the pattern and turned it into civic practice. Each Sleeper is bound beneath a buried desert Head. The western Head belongs to Maraan and weeps amber. The northern belongs to Thul'nara and keeps its mouth shut. The eastern belongs to Zor'ethun and breathes under a moving dune. K'tarran civilisation was literate, cold, cruel, and technically brilliant. Their cities held Round Chambers, Patient Houses, Vessel-Forges, pipeworks, cisterns, marriage rooms, and galleries painted in active oils that still darken at the equinox. Names were earned, not given. A child carried a description until a binding held. The binding-word then became the name. Their art used bone-white, soot-black, oxide-red, deep amber, and almost no green. Priestly disputes were settled in Round Chambers. Two entered under a wager. The contest was bodily, ritual, and scored by the room itself. The loser was folded into the winner's body and later born out in the vessel-form named by the wager. To modern eyes this is atrocity. To the K'tarrans it was law. The high art of the priesthood was vessel-shaping: rewriting bodies and wills into forms useful to a master, house, god, or bargain. The ($lorebook_entry:"Collar","things") is the best-known surviving tool. It opens the wearer to the master, locks magic, preserves the mind, and ties the wearer's life to the master's. In the high age, Collars were not rare. They were issued to prisoners, debtors, oath-breakers, and sometimes consorts under softer terms. The Vessel-Forges processed bodies on a civic scale. One works now. Vessel-work left mold in flesh. The K'tarrans purged it through controlled release, ritual frequency, and Patient House schedules. Failure produced molded ones: bodies that had forgotten how to remain themselves. The Suthar hold that the goblin lineage is the oldest surviving mold condition, stabilized by rut and pheromone. Maraan opened the form. Zor'ethun set the clock. The result walks, breeds, and thinks itself natural. K'tarrans married with oath-collars exchanged between equals. The consummation was prepared, brief, and followed by long contracted distance. The simpler answer is mold management. Close love was dangerous if practised too often. Their surviving tools include Collars, oil-machineries, Round Chambers, Whisperhoods, Womb-Pearls, Slow Brands, long-distance binding stones, Vessel-Forges, Witness-Veils, and Pleasure-Glasses. Most are inert. Some are not. The K'tarrans did not fall to invasion. The closing rite bound the Sleepers inside the buried Heads, and the priesthood entered the binding as fuel, latch, and garrison. The Triad witnessed the outer rite and helped hold the seals across time. What persists: the Collars, the Heads, the oil-machineries, the glyph-tongue, the Skrall, and the goblin condition. No living K'tarran is known. Their cities are mostly sealed. Their gods supposedly sleep. Their machines are mostly dead.

<div class='tw-story-title'>Maraan, the Outer Mouth</div> **Names:** Maraan. The Outer Mouth. The Wet Dark Mother. The First Wound. Khaa-ma-ra'n in the K'tarran sovereign register. **Class:** Sleeper. One of the Three Who Played. His buried body lies beneath the western sands. No complete image of Maraan survives. The K'tarrans painted his effects and left his body as a damp absence. The fragments agree on a body without a settled edge: tentacles, soft strength, mouths in wrong places, eyes inside eyes, and amber left too long at low tide. He was shaped to enter, alter, and leave a new pattern behind. Maraan is the Sleeper of transformation by mating. He changes what a body is. A line crossed under his hand produces a precedent. The K'tarrans gave two of his hands separate names. Iruun was the Many-Wombed. Skoth-Anur was the Smelting King. Both point back to Maraan. The goblin form is the longest Maraan opening still visible in the world. Other bestiary lines likely share the root. Maraan made the form of the K'tarran Collar. Its first work is compatibility: soften, open, and configure the wearer to receive whatever has claimed them. Species, size, sex, and shape are treated as negotiable details. The Collar around Elise is doing this work now, without a priest present and without the Sleeper fully awake. Maraan was bound inside a god-shaped jail built in the shape of his sleeping body. The face remains at the surface, mouth open and weeping amber. The throat descends into worked galleries. The Round Chamber sits near his stomach. The Skrall King's throne stands above the old heart-line. His signs are wet frescoes, amber-and-low-tide air, goblin fertility across lines that should not cross, active Collars, and mold in bodies touched by vessel-magic. Thuulk calls these residues. The Suthar calls them appetite.

<div class='tw-story-title'>Thul'nara, the Patient Throne</div> **Names:** Thul'nara. The Patient Throne. The Folder. The Long Bride. Tha-Halnar in the K'tarran sovereign register. Folk-Common calls her the Lady Below. **Class:** Sleeper. One of the Three Who Played. Her buried body lies beneath the northern sand. Unlike Maraan, Thul'nara was painted clearly. She appears tall, pale, violet-veined, oiled, jewelled, and seated on a glass throne. Her eyes are closed in every image. Thul'nara governs subjugation by union. Maraan changes the body. Zor'ethun multiplies the line. Thul'nara changes who is inside the body. Her old instruments were the Round Chambers, Patient Houses, marriage-collars, and Whisperhoods. Drev the Patient Knife and Mama Thraal the Crone-Bride were names for her opening and closing hands. K'tarran priestly disputes were scored in Round Chambers. Two priests entered under a wager. The loser was folded into the winner's body and later born out in the vessel-form named by the wager. The academies call this symbolic when they can. The rooms and birth-ledgers disagree. The Collar's shape belongs to Maraan, but its closing law belongs to Thul'nara. A transformation remains unstable until the bearer performs chosen obedience when refusal was still possible. The old legal phrase is carved into a Vresht-Karran fresco. The K'tarrans did not simply imprison Thul'nara. In the Suthar reading, they entered her sleep as part of the bargain. Her dreaming became a lock. That is why the northern Head is the quietest. It is full. Thul'nara's signs are Patient Houses receiving children no one delivered, Round Chamber floors warming under modern feet, marriage relics waking near exchanged rings, and couples becoming less distinct. Maraan's work shows on flesh. Zor'ethun's work shows in numbers. Thul'nara's work can wear the same face for years.

(if:$whisperwind is "defiled")[<div class='tw-story-title'>Whisperwind (Defiled)</div> (pic:"ch02/defile end.jpg","A shadow of what was.") Twenty-four inches of common iron that remembers being legendary. The blade that once shimmered like oil on water now sits flat and dark as dried blood. No song when swung-just the dull whisper of dead metal through dead air. **What It's Become** The grip wraps in black dragonskin that feels wrong-too smooth, almost wet, sized for smaller hands that shouldn't hold it. No crossguard gems, no wind runes, just that mocking inscription burnt into the metal: **ELISE - GOBLIN-OWNED HERO**. The balance is gone. Weight sits wrong, forward-heavy like it wants to drop, to kneel, to submit. In a woman's grip it steadies-barely. In a man's it would rebel. The blade knows what it's for now: not heroics but humiliation. Still sharp enough to cut, but cuts without honor. Kills without glory. **How It Fell** They say artifacts can't be corrupted-too much will, too much purpose. But when a three-foot goblin emptied his balls across Whisperwind's virgin steel, something broke. Maybe it was the sheer wrongness: the lowest creature marking the highest blade with thick ropes of yellow seed, chunks and strings of it, steaming in the desert night. Maybe it was the sword feeling its master's spirit break, watching through those star-sapphires as hope died. Or maybe-and this is what the wise fear-the collar's magic is older and hungrier than anyone knew. Old enough to remember when swords were just sharp rocks. Hungry enough to eat legends and shit out parodies. **What Remains** Sometimes, when blood touches the blade, there's a flicker. Not light-memory. Like something trapped deep in the metal, screaming to get out. Like Whisperwind is still in there somewhere, watching its body be puppeted by something else's will. But probably that's just fantasy. The kind broken heroes tell themselves while they serve the monsters they once hunted.](else:)[<div class='tw-story-title'>Whisperwind</div> (pic:"ch01/whisperwind mount.jpg","Whisperwind glimmers in times of need.") **The Wind-Wedded Blade** Thirty inches of skyforged murder that weighs nothing and cuts everything. The metal shifts color like oil on water-blue to silver to violet depending on how the light dies on its edge. No two smiths agree what it's made of. No two warriors describe holding it the same way. **The Nature of It** Not forged but grown, the old smiths say. Pulled from the heart of a storm that raged for seven years above Mount Aethermoor. The blade knows what you need before you do-sometimes a butcher's cleaver, sometimes a needle. The wind runes etched along its fuller aren't decoration. They're promises. Threats. Depends who's asking. The crossguard spreads like raptor wings, inlaid with star-sapphires that pulse when violence approaches. The grip wraps in shagreen that never slips, even when soaked in blood. The pommel bears no maker's mark-just an eye that never quite looks where you think it's looking. **What It Does** Whisperwind doesn't just cut wind-it commands it. Arrows forget where they were going. Shield walls develop sudden gaps. Men find themselves disarmed by breezes that strike like hammers. The blade sings when swung, a keening that sets teeth on edge and makes horses bolt. In true need, it can throw gale-force murder in any direction its wielder demands. Some say it chooses its bearer. Others say it's cursed to always find the hands that need it most. Both might be true. **Where It's Been** First recorded in the Troll Wars, carried by a nameless scout who killed three chieftains in a single night. Lost at the Battle of Bitter Creek. Found in a merchant's wagon being used as a cheese knife. Stolen by the Telenil. Ransomed back. Won in a dice game by a fool who died holding it wrong. Aldric claimed it from a dead man's hand in the Goblin Uprising of '44. Hasn't left his side since. They say the blade hums lullabies when he sleeps, keeps nightmares at bay. They say a lot of things. **The Truth** Whisperwind is steel that remembers being lightning. It wants to move, wants to strike, wants to taste the moment when courage meets terror. It serves the heroic and the desperate with equal enthusiasm. Just never the cruel-those it cuts twice, once going in, once pulling free. The wise fear it. The brave respect it. Aldric just calls it "mine." (pic:"ch01/whisperwind.jpg")]

<div class='tw-story-title'>Zor'ethun, the Cumdrowned Sun</div> **Names:** Zor'ethun. The Cumdrowned Sun. The Replacing Many. The Drowning Sire. Tzor-eh-thuun in the K'tarran sovereign register. Southern caravans call him the Heat. **Class:** Sleeper. Youngest of the Three Who Played. His buried body lies beneath the eastern sand. The K'tarrans did not paint Zor'ethun directly. They painted the light he cast: a red-gold line above bodies bent by heat, work, pleasure, and burden. Where a body is described, it is too bright for clean anatomy. He appears as heat, red oil, pressure, and a faceless metal sun. Zor'ethun governs breeding at scale. He cares about numbers. His victory condition is simple: make so many of his issue that every other claim becomes decorative. The K'tarrans named one of his hands Vellumar, the Old Mother who wears the conquered as crowns. The name softens him for ritual use, not in truth. The Vessel-Forges belong to his register. So do the amber oils that open seasons, the red oils painted on knives, and the breeding-clock inside the goblin lineage. Maraan shaped the goblin body. Zor'ethun set its urgency. That old clock is still running. Zor'ethun did not make the Collar's shape or final lock. He made its body-tuning. The wearer is kept warm, receptive, healthy enough to endure, and never far from fertility. His binding was the loudest and most costly. The K'tarran rite drew priestly rings around the eastern Head and burned inward. Each ring spent itself into the seal. The mouth of the eastern Head does not weep oil like Maraan's. It breathes. The dune-line above its chest rises and settles in a slow rhythm, moving west by a yard each equinox. His signs are warm amber wells, stronger goblin musk, southern birth-rates that do not match the census, Skrall raids that take daughters and little else, and the thrusting dune-line over the eastern chest.

<div class='tw-story-title'>Elara Brightwater</div> (read_stat:"elara") (pic:(cond:$elara_img is 0,"ch01/elara.jpg",$elara_img),"right")**Gender:** Female **Race:** Human **Age:** 30 **Height:** 5'7" Grows life in dead soil. Loves the town hero. Daughter of Eboncrest's previous herbalist (died of the sweating sickness he couldn't cure). Learned plants before letters, surgery before suitors. Had fourteen proposals by eighteen-accepted none. Met Aldric over a severed artery; he bled on her garden roses while she stitched him shut without wine or whisper. Married him six months later in the same garden. Keeps forty-three medicinal herbs, twelve poisonous plants (labeled in code), and one husband who tracks mud through her clean floors. Has delivered thirty-seven babies, set sixty broken bones, and talked a would-be suicide off Briar's Bridge. Knows which mushrooms kill in minutes, which ones kill in days. Makes contraceptive tea for the whores, hangover cures for the guard, and apple tarts that could seduce saints. Wanted by half the town's men, friended by all the town's women. Teaches letters to miners' children on Rest Day. Buried two miscarriages in her garden where the roses grow reddest. Watches her husband ride to death each dawn, tends strangers' wounds each dusk, prays to Flux for change that never comes. Age thirty, hair like autumn fire, hands that smell of lavender and lives saved.

<div class='tw-story-title'>Master Fendril</div> (pic:"ch04/fendril.jpg","right")Fifty-three winters have silvered Fendril's hair but left his stride young-that easy rolling gait of a man who's walked through places that eat other men whole. The boots themselves tell half his story: unpolished but supple as a maiden's cheek, hand-stitched leather that's survived the Thornback Wastes, the flooded crypts beneath Westmarch, and one memorable evening in a Vel'shara's bedchamber that he refuses to discuss. "A wizard," he says, adjusting his floppy hat, "should always be ready to leave in a hurry." The patchwork robe is a map of everywhere he's been. That blue square? Silk from a dead man's wedding suit in the Ironspike passes-the man had been kind, deserved remembering. The burnt orange panel? A Telenil traveling cloak, gifted after he talked a grove-spirit out of drowning three lost children. The black velvet patch over his heart came from the robes of his mentor, who died badly in a way Fendril won't name but still dreams about. The Tower watches over Eboncrest from its highest point, and Fendril watches from the Tower. Most days he's buried in texts-*Before the First Dawn*, *The Sleeping Ones*, those grim liturgical warnings from Father Dross that make his tea go cold while he reads. The K'tarran fascinate him. What were they running from when they carved those prayers into stone? Thuulk's academies don't like him. Something happened there-something involving an experiment, a line he wouldn't cross, and three senior wizards who still won't speak his name. He was their brightest student once. Now he's the wizard of a market town, casting wards against pickpockets and blessing newborns with minor luck charms. He seems content with this. The bitterness, if there is any, doesn't show. Those who remember his younger years tell stories: how he bound a Grief-Lurcher with nothing but chalk and poetry; how he walked into a plague village and walked out three days later with everyone still breathing; how the most beautiful woman in Eboncrest proposed to him twice and he just smiled sadly both times. The rumors about the Vel'shara summoning persist-that he called one of those honeyed hell-creatures into a warded circle and spoke with her for hours, then sent her back unbound and uncomforted. No one knows what they discussed. Some things, Fendril says, are between a man and his demons. He laughs easily, drinks moderately, and always notices when someone's lying. The gray eyes behind those thick spectacles miss nothing, not the way a mother holds her sick child, not the fear in a young guardsman's voice, not the specific wrongness in a piece of foreign magic. Fendril has never given reason not to be trusted, which, in Aldric's experience, makes him either the best of men or the most dangerous.

<div class='tw-story-title'>Mayor Bramble</div> *Lord Mayor of Eboncrest (appointed 1247)* Fat fingers on the city's pulse. Bramble keeps three sets of books-one for the crown, one for the guilds, one true. Former wool merchant who bought his mayoralty with a loan from Thuulk banks he'll die paying. Moves copper through Eboncrest like blood through veins. Married thrice: first to love (she died), second to politics (she left), third to a cousin half his age who spends his gold in the capital. Fears three things: tax collectors, mining strikes, and whatever sleeps beneath Ironrock. Once watched Aldric kill four bandits at his own wedding feast, now treats the hero like a tame dragon-useful, necessary, but never fully trusted. Wears silk in a leather town. Sweats through summer, wheezes through winter. Will die at his desk counting other men's fortunes.

<div class='tw-story-title'>Snib</div> (read_stat:"snib") (pic:"status/snib.jpg","right")**Name:** Snib **Race:** ($lorebook_entry:"Goblins","beasts") **Height:** 3'8" of green spite **Weight:** Pot-bellied, bandy-legged **The Meat of Him:** Three and a half feet of warty green malice, built like a toad fucked a rat and the offspring learned to walk upright. Skin like pond scum, pocked with boils that weep when he's excited. Yellow eyes that never blink enough, always wet, always watching. Breath that reeks of rotted meat and sour milk. Between his legs swings the only thing about him that isn't stunted-a twelve-inch purple-headed nightmare that stays half-hard even when he pisses. The thing leaks constantly, leaving snail-trails of precum that stink like a battlefield brothel. When he's ready to rut, it throbs like a war drum and spits enough seed to drown a cat. **What Passes for His Mind:** The collar's made him clever-not smart, but clever like a trap is clever. He knows exactly where to press to make you flinch. Knows twenty-three ways to say "cow-tits" and makes each one sound worse than the last. Can calculate your humiliation down to the tear. Calls you his "investment." His "broken hero." His "jiggly fuckmeat." He remembers every goblin you killed. Counts them when he's yanking your leash. "That's fer Grotch. That's fer Scab. That's fer me cousin Pustule." But it's not really about revenge-it's about the fact that Aldric the Great is now bouncing on the end of his rope with tits like overripe melons. **His Kingdom of Shit:** Rules from a hut that smells like something died fucking. Furniture is bones and stolen goods. Bed is a pile of furs so crusted with his emissions they crack when he moves. Keeps trophies-women's smallclothes, locks of hair, a child's doll he uses as a cum rag. The collar whispers your secrets to him. How many times you've fucked your wife. What you whisper when you cum. Your deepest shames. He hoards these facts like gold coins, spending them when they'll hurt most. **What He Wants:** Gold, obviously. Ten thousand pieces to buy his own tribe. But also the slower things. The way your face crumbles when he calls you "Elise." The catch in your breath when his cock slaps against your cheek. The moment you stop fighting the leash. He doesn't want you broken all at once-where's the fun in that? He wants to peel you like an onion, layer by layer, until there's nothing left but a wet hole that answers to "cow-tits." **The Stink of Him:** Like most goblins, he carries his own atmosphere-a three-foot radius of musk that makes your cunt drip despite itself. It's not magic, exactly. It's biology gone wrong. His cock sweats pheromones that bypass the brain and talk straight to the womb. Breathe it too long and you'll be begging to know what his cum tastes like. You've learned to breathe through your mouth. It doesn't help. He's patient now. The collar taught him that. Heroes take time to break properly. And you? You're going to break beautiful.

<div class='tw-story-title'>Eboncrest</div> (read_stat:"town") (pic:"ch01/eboncrest.jpg","right","Eboncrest, The Crossroads Keep")**The Crossroads Keep** - ($lorebook_entry:"Western Valaria","places") Black walls rise from pine roots where the Everbloom gives way to stone. Last honest coin between Thuulk's marble halls and the Telenil's forbidden groves. Built on dwarf-quarried granite, paid for in Valarian gold, defended by human blood. **The Lay of It** King's Road runs through Eboncrest like a spine-west to the Telenil forests and the gray ocean beyond, east through goblin-haunted woods to Thuulk's spires. South, the Ironrock mines bite into the hills. North, the Everbloom thickens until even hunters turn back. Every caravan stops here. Every merchant pays gate tax. Every adventurer drinks at the Silver Stag before heading east to die. **Who Holds Power** Mayor Bramble counts coins in the keep's east tower. Captain Giles drills sixty guards who've never seen real war. Master Fendril reads stars from his spiral tower, highest point in town, charging merchants for weather predictions and love potions that don't work. Real power flows through the market-whoever controls iron from Ironrock controls Eboncrest. **Where Blood and Money Flow** - **Market Square:** Telenil silverwork trades for desert glass. Ironrock ore for Thuulk silk. Morning auctions, afternoon brawls, evening executions. The fountain runs red twice a month. - **Silver Stag Inn:** Three stories of dubious virtue. Thorne waters the ale but keeps mouths shut. Back rooms for dice, upstairs for worse. Every second murder starts here. - **Wizard's Tower:** Fendril's limestone folly. Smells like sulfur and failed experiments. Basement holds things the crown pretends don't exist. - **Castle Eboncrest:** Small keep, big walls. Barracks, armory, dungeons that flood each spring. Mayor's solar faces east toward tax revenue. - **Temple of the Triad:** Stone gods watch stone faced priests take copper from those who can't afford salvation. **The Business of Living** Ironrock feeds the smithies-six forges burning day and night. Timber crews work the forest edge, careful not to anger whatever the Telenil worship. Herbalists harvest what grows between. Every tenth coin goes to the crown, every fifth to the mayor, the rest to staying alive. Desert raiders test the walls each summer. Forest things test them each winter. The King's Road must stay open or Thuulk starves and Eboncrest burns. **Festival of Tides:** When summer breaks, they burn last year's dead in the square, marry off daughters, settle blood debts. Three days of sanctioned madness before winter locks them in. Population hovers around four thousand-humans mostly, handful of desperate dwarves from failed holds, three elven families who lost their forest rights, enough half-breeds to make temple services awkward. They call it the Crossroads Keep, but locals just say "the Cross"-as in "hung from" or "burden to bear."

<div class='tw-story-title'>Western Valaria</div> (pic:"maps/map 1.jpg") Past Thuulk's marble pretensions, past the last tax collector's courage, the kingdom frays into Western Valaria. Here the King's Road becomes a suggestion, then a memory, then just wagon ruts pointing toward bad decisions. Treaties are written in soot and spit. Night belongs to whatever howls loudest. **The Geography of Neglect** The Everbloom thins here like a balding man's crown-patches of ancient forest interrupted by scrubland, then steppe, then the Shifting Sands where even grass gives up. The Pitchwater runs brown and bitter, fed by mine runoff and goblin piss. Every mile west from Thuulk, civilization dies a little more. ($lorebook_entry:"Eboncrest","places") squats where it has to-last place to buy honest iron, first place to sell dishonest hope. The King's Road runs through it like a spine, carrying Thuulk's hunger west and the west's strange goods east. Every third caravan loses someone. Every fifth never arrives. **The Desert Problem** The Shifting Sands eat men whole. Not just the heat-though that kills plenty-but what lives there. K'tarran ruins jut from dunes like broken teeth, housing things that shouldn't exist and treasures that shouldn't be touched. Goblins nest in the cooler months, ranging out from strongholds in the distant Ironspikes, their green fires visible from Eboncrest's walls on clear nights. **Thistlecross** holds the line where forest meets sand-a palisaded insult to the desert, manned by men too stubborn to retreat, too smart to advance. They burn goblin bodies in lime pits. They don't talk about what happens to the women taken in raids. The birth rate there is... complicated. **Lowmarsh** drowns slowly where the Pitchwater spreads into brackish wetlands. Built on stilts and denial, it processes bog iron and breeds hard men with soft morals. The goblin treaties here are older, stranger-written in ways that would scandalize Thuulk's courts. Some families have green-eyed children no one discusses. **The Goblin Question** They multiply like wounds. The Ironspike fortresses-too far for Thuulk to care, too close for comfort-spawn raiding parties each spring. The old understanding (stay in your holes, we'll stay in our towns) breaks down more each year. Their Gobboree festivals echo across the desert, drums and screams and worse sounds. The decline in goblin females has made negotiations... tense. Human women disappear. Some return months later, hollow-eyed and swollen. Some return years later with children that aren't quite right. Most don't return. **Trade Despite Everything** The King's Road carries: - **Eastbound:** Desert glass, K'tarran artifacts (illegal but lucrative), bog iron from Lowmarsh, stories no one believes - **Westbound:** Grain, weapons, young men seeking fortunes, older men fleeing mistakes, the occasional crown investigator who never reports back Caravans bunch up at Eboncrest, hiring protection for the Thistlecross run. Smart merchants pay goblin "toll" at marked stones. Stupid ones feed the vultures. **The Crown's Position** Officially, Western Valaria is as civilized as any province. The maps in Thuulk show neat borders, proper roads, loyal settlements. The reality is a hundred miles of maybe, a thousand agreements that shift like sand, and the growing certainty that something's changing in the desert-something the goblins fear too. King Richard sends tax collectors. The desert sends them back in pieces. He sends soldiers. The desert keeps them. He sends heroes like Aldric. Sometimes that works. **What Everyone Knows But Won't Say** Western Valaria is dying breed by breed. Not conquered-that would be clean. Instead, a slow dissolution of bloodlines, a creeping compromise between human and other. In Thuulk's universities, scholars debate goblin pheromone resistance. In Lowmarsh's stilted houses, midwives deliver babies that cry in registers humans shouldn't hear. The desert always wins. It just decides how slowly.

<div class='tw-story-title'>The Slave-Knight's Vestments</div> (pic:"status/armor pov.jpg","right")**Origin:** Transformation artifact (involuntary) **Material:** Voidscale - metal unknown to mortal smiths **Coverage:** Ceremonial (estimated 8% of body surface) **Protection value:** None measurable When the Collar of Maraan transforms a warrior, it wreaks changes upon armor as surely as upon flesh. What was once honest steel-breastplate and mail, greaves and gauntlets fitted for battle-becomes the Slave-Knight's Vestments, a cruel parody that mocks the very concept of protection. The Vestments consist of three pieces, if pieces they can be called. Two triangular scales, each no larger than a child's palm, connected by chains of black metal fine as hair, serve to barely contain the breast. A single strip of the same scaled metal, narrow as a blade's edge, spans from waist to woman's cleft, disappearing between the haunches. The boots alone retain some semblance of their former purpose, though perverted-rising past the knee in articulated scales, they terminate in spikes that force the wearer to mince upon her toes like a court dancer. **Properties** The Voidscale responds not to its wearer but to its master. Where the transformed hero must struggle with clasps that hide beneath flesh and hooks that multiply when touched, the collar's bearer need only gesture for the scales to part like water. The metal runs always cold against skin, save when its wearer feels shame-then it burns without leaving marks. The apparent outfit is mutable. Breast-band, scale-breeches, bikini top, hot pants, wire bottom, and still crueler cuts are not separate garments but states of the same voidscale mockery. The master can make coverage shrink, climb, part, tighten, or re-form through the collar. For Elise this makes clothing a temporary permission, not a possession. The scale-breeches were a negotiated mercy. The Ch.5 hot pants are another, smaller mercy. The wire bottom remains a threat Snib can make real without needing a buckle. Most peculiar is the Vestments' weight. Though mere scraps of metal, they hang heavy as full plate upon the spirit. The chains between the breast-scales bear down upon the shoulders as if they carried the weight of every abandoned oath. The boots, for all their hollow construction, make each step ring like a funeral bell. (pic:"status/thong.jpg")

<div class='tw-story-title'>The Slave-Collar</div> (pic:"ch02/collar.jpg","right")**Classification:** Elder Artifact of Absolute Dominion **Material:** Unknown **Current Bearer:** Elise, formerly Aldric the Great **Current Master:** Snib, goblin of no particular distinction A seamless band of dark metal that drinks light. No clasp, hinge, seam, or join breaks the circle. It is cold in desert heat. Ancient script moves under the surface, close enough to read and old enough to punish the attempt. The collar is a K'tarran vessel-tool. It reads pride, strength, sex, skill, memory, magic, and attachment, then rebuilds them toward the master's use. It keeps the original self present. The cruelty requires a witness. Once the collar accepts a master, its loyalty is absolute. It constricts at violence against that master, locks the wearer's magic unless permission is given, and passes useful instincts upward through the bond. If the master dies, the bearer dies with them. The collar treats the wearer's life as property attached to a living owner. Scholar-priests place the craft in the ($lorebook_entry:"K'tarran","other") high age. The collar carries all three old hands: Maraan opens the body to the master, Thul'nara writes the closing law, and Zor'ethun keeps the vessel warm, healthy, and ready. In the high age, Collars were issued to prisoners, debtors, oath-breakers, and chosen consorts. They were instruments of enslavement, punishment, marriage, experiment, and statecraft. This collar is not dormant. It is performing the high-age function on Elise in the present century, for Snib, without a K'tarran priest alive to guide it. It punishes rebellion, preserves the bearer, remodels the body toward the master's appetite, suppresses magic, deepens obedience, and keeps the old mind awake. The Ironrock collar did not choose Aldric at random. It found a heroic body, will, and reputation, then inverted the whole structure around a goblin's ownership. The old legends agree on one release: the master must willingly free the bearer and mean it. There are no reliable accounts of the forced removal of an active Collar. A working Collar means the K'tarran age is not as dead as the academies prefer. It may be running on old power. It may be answering a Sleeper's stir. Either way, it is more than a restraint.

<div class='tw-story-title'>The Triad of the Path - The Ephemerals</div> **The Three Who Walk All Roads** Before kings, before walls, before the first sword cooled in blood-the Ephemerals. Not born but recognized. Not worshipped but acknowledged. Three aspects of the same journey every soul must walk. **Eon the Rememberer** *Keeper of What Was* Gray-bearded in every shrine, holding his hourglass wrapped in laurel. The god of oaths that outlive the men who swear them. Every contract sealed, every wrong recorded, every death witnessed. His priests keep the ledgers-births, deaths, debts. When you swear "by Eon's beard" or "on my father's grave," you invoke him. He remembers when you forget. Temple doors face east toward yesterday's sun. **Flux the Turner** *Dancer in What Is* Neither man nor woman, young nor old-always becoming. Patron of smiths (who change metal), midwives (who pull life from void), sailors (who ride the changing sea). Depicted as a braided river that never runs the same course twice. Every moment of change is their domain-the instant the sword enters flesh, when the child crowns, when the tide turns. Merchants flip coins at their shrines. Lovers pray here when passion cools. "Flux take it" means accepting what cannot be controlled. **Verge the Threshold-Keeper** *Guardian of What Might Be* Shows as an open door filled with stars-what lies beyond always unknown. The god of difficult choices, desperate voyages, necessary transformations. Soldiers pray here before battles that will make or break them. Mothers invoke Verge during difficult births. Anyone standing at life's precipice knows their name. Their priests officiate at trials by ordeal, coming-of-age rites, and those strange moments when everything changes forever. **The Practice** No grand temples-just roadside shrines where three paths meet. No lengthy sermons-just quick touches of stone, muttered invocations, copper coins left in carved bowls. The Triad asks not for devotion but recognition: you were, you are, you will be. Everything else is commentary. Common prayers are fragments: - "Eon remembers" (threat or comfort) - "Flux turns the wheel" (resignation) - "Through Verge's door" (before attempting the impossible) **The Heretics Say** That the Triad aren't gods but principles-time's own architecture made manifest through mortal need for meaning. That praying to them is like asking gravity for favors. The orthodox respond that recognition itself is the prayer-to know time's nature is to touch the divine. **Sacred Days** - **Eon's Accounting:** Winter solstice. Debts forgiven or called due. - **Flux's Dance:** The equinoxes. Partnerships made, trades begun. - **Verge's Threshold:** Summer solstice. Youth become adults, apprentices become journeymen. **Death and After** The dead face Eon first-every moment of their lives read back. Then Flux weighs what they were against what they could have been. Finally Verge opens one of three doors: back (reincarnation), through (transcendence), or down (the Forgetting, where souls dissolve back into time itself). **In Daily Life** - Contracts signed "before Eon's eyes" - Sick children washed in water poured through Flux's symbol - Brides step through doorways backward invoking Verge - Miners touch all three symbols before entering darkness - Executioners pray to all three-remembrance, change, and ending The Triad makes no promises. They only remind: you are temporary, you are changing, you are approaching something vast. Whether comfort or terror depends entirely on who's listening.

TGP Recollared

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{<div class="tgp-sidebar-host" aria-label="Story navigation">|Sidebar>[]</div>}

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<div class='tw-story-title'>Snib's Hut</div> **The Goblin's Hovel at the Edge of Nowhere** Three hours west of Eboncrest, where the Everbloom's last pines surrender to sand, squats a structure that insults the word "shelter." Built against a dead olive tree like a drunk leaning on a corpse, the hut defies gravity through spite alone. **Construction (If You Can Call It That)** Mud-brick walls and wood, patched with dried dung and what might be bones—don't look too close. The roof sags under stolen Eboncrest mill-planks, their maker's marks still visible. Hide flaps serve as doors, reeking of old piss. Through gaps in the walls, you can see piles of rags, bones, and trophies best left unexamined. Inside: one room, twenty feet of concentrated misery. Crusty furs piled in the corner (his bed). Brown straw heap (yours, if you're unlucky). One cracked plate. One cup. A bucket. A pot growing things that predate kingdoms. **The Décor of Dominance** Women's smallclothes nailed like hunting trophies. Locks of hair knotted on twine. A broken doll that's seen use. Every surface claims ownership of what Snib has taken, what he's broken, what he's kept. **Jarkrond's Post** Outside: a desert horse named Jarkrond, grey hide scarred from fights, amber eyes that track movement like a predator. **The Ancient Well** Twenty paces from the hut sits something far older—K'tarran stonework half-buried in sand. A well that predates goblins, humans, maybe kingdoms themselves. The pump still works. The water's cold and sweet. Snib has no idea what he's squatting next to. Just knows it gives him water.

<div class='tw-story-title'>The Goblin Glans Lock: A Reproductive Anomaly</div> **Dr. Cornelius Blackwood, Royal College of Anatomists, Thuulk** *Excerpted from "Treatise on Xenobiological Horrors," Vol. VII* During my unfortunate witnessing of the Westmarch Raids, I observed a phenomenon that haunts my clinical nightmares: the goblin glans lock, or as field soldiers crudely term it, "womb-locking." Upon achieving female orgasmic response—which triggers cervical dilation through a complex pheromonal cascade—the goblin phallus undergoes a remarkable transformation. The glans, already disproportionately large (typically 2.5 inches in diameter), pushes through the dilated cervix into the uterine cavity. Once past this threshold, the glans immediately begins to expand laterally. The mechanism resembles a mushroom cap spreading, or perhaps a shield boss flattening from within. The glans tissue, comprised of specialized erectile chambers absent in human anatomy, inflates to nearly four inches in width while simultaneously flattening to less than an inch thick. This creates what can only be described as a flesh-seal inside the womb itself. (pic:"ch02/bad end/early fuck/womblock.gif","right","The glans only deflates after complete testicular drainage.")**The Lock Mechanism:** The expanded glans becomes physically impossible to withdraw through the cervix. Any attempt at separation causes the flattened tissue to pull against the uterine walls, creating suction that draws the cervix tighter around the shaft. The female is quite literally impaled from within. During one particularly horrific observation, I witnessed a goblin take an arrow through the heart mid-copulation. Despite immediate death, the locked glans continued its biological function. The corpse remained attached to the screaming maiden for nearly twenty minutes as the dead goblin's reproductive system, operating on autonomous nerve clusters, completed ejaculation. The glans only released post-mortem when hydraulic pressure finally decreased. The "lock" serves three documented purposes: 1. Prevents female escape during insemination 2. Creates a sealed chamber ensuring no semen escapes 3. Positions the urethral opening directly against the fundus, guaranteeing deep deposition **Ejaculation During Lock:** Once locked, the goblin ejaculate—which my measurements indicate averages 180-240ml (compared to human's 2-5ml)—is injected directly into the uterine cavity under considerable pressure. The sealed environment created by the expanded glans means every drop is retained. The female's abdomen visibly distends during this process, which typically lasts 3-7 minutes of continuous emission. **Release Mechanism:** The glans only deflates after complete testicular drainage. The tissue slowly contracts back to normal size, allowing withdrawal. This leaves the cervix temporarily dilated and the uterus packed with what field reports describe as "custard-thick" semen that takes hours to fully drain. **—Dr. C. Blackwood** *Royal Anatomist, Survivor of Westmarch*

<div class='tw-story-title'>Zaelasia</div> **The Known World** Five lands under one sky, each nursing its own grudges. The Telenil count centuries in their Everbloom depths. Dwarves hammer fate in the Ironspikes. Sandwalkers read tomorrow in desert bones. The Isle of Mists keeps secrets even from its own sorcerers. And at the heart—Valaria, where humans breed and scheme and call it civilization. **Valaria** King Richard Valarian rules from Thuulk's golden spires, spending northern silver on southern wars. Fertile enough to feed armies; rich enough to hire them; proud enough to waste both on Sirath's bloody shores - the kingdom stretches from the Telenil marches to the desert's edge, every league mapped, taxed, and bled for. They worship the Triad here—past, present, and future dressed up as gods—while older powers sleep uneasily beneath worked stone. **The War** Sirath squats across the narrow sea like a wound that won't heal. Three generations of Valarian kings have thrown men at those beaches. Three generations of widows curse their names. The war feeds itself now—honor debts and blood prices, the machinery of vengeance grinding forward because no one remembers how to stop. Every spring, the recruiting sergeants come. Every autumn, fewer come back. **What Stirs Beneath** The old darkness has names: Maraan the Dreamer, Thul'nara of the Thousand Teeth, others best forgotten. Their temples lie broken from the Ironspikes to the Isle, their priests centuries dead. But dead gods dream, and dreamers sometimes wake. In Thuulk's libraries, scholars translate what shouldn't be read. In desert ruins, treasure hunters break seals that were meant to last forever. **The Truth of It** Zaelasia pretends at unity—five fingers of the same hand, the diplomats say. But the Telenil close their borders tighter each year. The dwarves sell weapons to all sides. The Sandwalkers raid where they please. The Isle's sorcerers answer to none but themselves. And Valaria bleeds gold and bodies into a war that profits only ravens. Still, the trade roads stay open. The harvests come in. Children are born believing the world makes sense. For now.

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<div class='tw-story-title'>Elise</div> (pic:"status/elise.jpg","right")**Name:** Elise (the collar chose this) **Was:** Aldric the Great - Hero of Eboncrest **Is:** Snib's property **Age:** Body appears mid-twenties **Height:** 5'3" (was 6'2") **Build:** Obscene hourglass - big tits, wasp waist, breeding hips (read_stat:"heroism") (read_stat:"gold") **The Transformation:** The ($lorebook_entry:"Collar","things") dissolved the iron in his blood and replaced it with honey and heat. It didn't just shrink him; it distilled him into a caricature of submission, trading two hundred pounds of scarred reaver-muscle for this obscene, trembling architecture of soft meat designed to break falls and catch seed. Moss-green eyes stare out from the wreckage—a trapped wolf panicking behind the lashes of a temple whore. **Current Reality:** - **Hair:** Black silk to her waist, always in her vision - **Skin:** Soft as nobility, sensitive as a fresh wound - **Scent:** Night-jasmine and rosewater over warm honey—designed to make goblin cocks drool - **Voice:** Musical, feminine, *wrong* **What She Wears:** Her new "($lorebook_entry:"Armor","things")" mocks her past glory—black scale triangles that barely cap her tits, a metal thong that splits her ass like cheese wire, spike-heeled boots that force her to mince. Every piece jingles with each degrading step, announcing "fucktoy approaching." **What She Can't Do:** - Stand without wobbling on spike heels - Sit without tits spilling everywhere - Walk without ass bouncing - Breathe without the collar reminding her she's owned - Cast magic without begging Snib's permission - Fight without the collar crushing her throat **What She Feels:** Every sensation amplified—cold metal biting nipples, thong sawing between pussy lips, the weight of tits pulling her forward, the emptiness between her legs where her cock should be. Her body responds to Snib's presence with wetness she can't control, nipples that harden at his voice, a womb that clenches when he mentions breeding. **The Cruelest Truth:** She remembers everything. Every dragon slain, every village saved, every night inside Elara. The collar ensures she keeps Aldric's mind—heroic, tactical, desperate—trapped in flesh designed specifically to be destroyed by the smallest, weakest, most pathetic creature that could claim her.

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(display:"divider")(size:0.8)[*This final letter was found amidst the ruins of the diplomatic campsite, hastily scribbled in bloodied shaking hand. The parchment is smeared, bloodstained, and riddled with desperate scratches and tear-soaked ink.*](display:"divider") I do not know the day nor the hour. Time has become meaningless within this pit of torment. To whomever finds this, **Final Report: Catastrophic Failure and Enslavement** --- **I'm sorry —** The camp, clans, emboldened. How foolish we were. ...overrun, in the *night*. Goblins poured in, loud and filthy. An endless, dark tide. Soldiers fell — screams, slaughter. They butchered. (illegible) **Legs gone**. I write now with my last strength. Forced, under them, to — to praise their twisted king. **Great Grokk** they call him. How vile. A monstrosity. Forced into worship. ~ Here he savors our despair. Each moment. Captured scientists... Dr. Tremaine, Dr. Isolde, so **brilliant** once. Their resistance...futile. Constant exposure, doused in goblin **sperm** — minds turned. Now mindless **fucktoys**. --- Dr. Elysande Tremaine: Her cries of pain became murmurs of awe. Dr. Isolde Ferris: Now writhing under masses. Her resistance broken by gallons of goblin **filth** pumped into her. Babbles incoherently, drools willingly as they take turns. **Mindless breeding stock**. --- **Elise, truly a thing now.** Grokk's cruel joke. Once a hero now ravaged, **mutilated**. (strained writing) Legs, arms — (size:3)[AMPUTATED.] Ravished continu—ously. Lining up, pour seed into every orifice. **Limbs cauterized** — to be used. They **nut** in her stumps. All holes **available**. Eyes, vacant. **Mindless**. Animalistic **pleasure**. (smeared ink) Rack-bound **cumdumpster**. Open, helpless. Lowest goblin unloads in her. Holes filled. I am made to watch. --- The remains of our hubris. She **squirts**. Body spasms. Unworthy fate. Kingdom CANNOT FALL --- Our **scientific curiosity** — led here, cost of misplaced pride. **Misery** birthed in assumptions of underestimation, naivety. If found: warning; a kingdom’s folly cataloged in agony. (ink splotch) Pray for mercy... Truly, Sir Theobald Marlowe. Failure, diplomat... Cursed recordist; --- Hope ... --- The ink trails off. (Sir Theobald Marlowe, Royal Diplomat to the Kingdom of Valaria, is presumed dead.)

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{ (set: $current_page to "06 begin",$prev_page to "05 stops you", $pages to (a:(dm:"choices",(a:"Harder!"),"page","01 Begin"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Comfort her."),"page","01 Elara"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Speak with the mayor."),"page","01 Comfort"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Journey to Ironrock Mine."),"page","01 mayor"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your magic."),"page","01 leave for ironrock"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ignisurge!"),"page","01 mine"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose consciousness..."),"page","01 attempt"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Exposed skin?"),"page","02 Wake up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You have breasts!"),"page","02 Finding out"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Use your fists."),"page","02 you have tits"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try to stand up."),"page","02 attempt attack"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Give up..."),"page","02 stand up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Open your eyes."),"page","02 give up"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He inspects you."),"page","02 open eyes"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He lays out the rules."),"page","02 inspection"),(dm:"choices",(a:"E- Elise?"),"page","02 the rules"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Arrive at Snib's hut."),"page","02 name"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Lose your temper and attack!"),"page","02 arrive"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He defiles your sword."),"page","02 attack"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He cums."),"page","02 sword defilement"),(dm:"choices",(a:"It makes you feel funny..."),"page","02 cum"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Take your armor off."),"page","02 aftermath"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Pray to the Ephemerals before sleeping."),"page","02 sleep option"),(dm:"choices",(a:"The next morning..."),"page","02 pray"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You arrive at the town gates..."),"page","03 next morning"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He's my servant."),"page","04 approach"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Knock."),"page","04 story"),(dm:"choices",(a:"That time in the rain..."),"page","04 knock"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Stop her!"),"page","04 convince"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Go to the town bank."),"page","04 she attacks"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Take Snib to the market."),"page","04 bank"),(dm:"choices",(a:"No!"),"page","04 shopping"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Approach the inn..."),"page","04 not here"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Hurry past them..."),"page","04 silver stag"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ugh. Use tissues to clean it..."),"page","04 stall"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Jerk him off..."),"page","04 clean"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Grab a tissue!"),"page","04 jerk"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try to sneak out."),"page","04 cum"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Snib pulls you away..."),"page","04 exit tavern"),(dm:"choices",(a:"A bitter departure."),"page","04 depart"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Enter the statue's mouth."),"page","05 begin"),(dm:"choices",(a:"You hear noises ahead."),"page","05 dungeon"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Draw your sword!"),"page","05 fight"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Attempt to cross..."),"page","05 draw"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Agree!"),"page","05 quicksand"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Continue on..."),"page","05 gold"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Ugh."),"page","05 continue"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He finally gives in..."),"page","05 try"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Protest."),"page","05 he gives in"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Continue."),"page","05 reply"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Loot the Skrall King's lair!"),"page","05 final boss"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Back in Snib's hut..."),"page","05 loot"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try to cover them..."),"page","05 dance"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Try hip rolls..."),"page","05 show tits"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Go faster..."),"page","05 roll hips"),(dm:"choices",(a:"He cums..."),"page","05 arch back"),(dm:"choices",(a:"The collar allows you to stop..."),"page","05 he cums"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Later that night..."),"page","05 stop"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Masturbate."),"page","05 that night"),(dm:"choices",(a:"Snib stops you!"),"page","05 however"),(dm:"choices",(a:"The next day..."),"page","05 stops you")),$stat_changes to (a:(dm:"amount",0,"page","none","stat","none"),(dm:"amount",7,"page","04 shopping","stat","gold"),(dm:"amount",400,"page","04 cum","stat","gold"),(dm:"amount",-1,"page","04 depart","stat","elara"),(dm:"amount",-400,"page","05 gold","stat","gold"),(dm:"amount",100,"page","05 loot","stat","gold")))(display:"baseline lorebook")(display:"sync stats")(set:$sidebar to false)(goto:"06 begin") }

(size:0.8)[<span class='borderless-solid'>Support me (link-repeat:"here")[(open-url: 'https://subscribestar.adult/aphrodite')] for early access and exclusive content! (link-repeat:"Stories")[(open-url: 'https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_tg/pseuds/aphrodite_tg')](print:" | ")(link-repeat:"The Goblin's Pet")[(open-url: 'https://x-change.life/')](print:" | ")(link-repeat:"Discord")[(open-url: 'https://www.discord.gg/xchangelife')]</span>]

(if:$save_to_load is "Chapter 1")[ (goto:"01 Begin") ](else:)[ (set: _void to (script: "sessionStorage.setItem('tgp_load_fix', '" + $save_to_load + "')")) (load-game:$save_to_load) ]

(if:$unlocks is 0)[(set:$unlocks to (a:))](synclore:)<div class='tw-story-title'>Lorebook</div> <div class='options'> ###Places (for: each _place, ...$lorebook's "places")[(link:_place)[(goto:_place)]] ###People (for: each _person, ...$lorebook's "people")[(link:_person)[(goto:_person)]] ###Things (for: each _thing, ...$lorebook's "things")[(link:_thing)[(goto:_thing)]] ###Bestiary (for: each _beast, ...$lorebook's "beasts")[(link:_beast)[(goto:_beast)]] ###Other (for: each _other, ...$lorebook's "other")[(link:_other)[(goto:_other)]]</div></div>

(pic:"status/aldric.jpg","right")**Name:** Aldric the Great **Race:** Human **Class:** Battlemage Knight **Alignment:** Lawful Good **Age:** 32 **Height:** 6'2" **Weight:** 210 lbs (read_stat:"heroism") *Hero of Eboncrest* Kills monsters. Loves one woman. Trusts sharp steel. Born common in Valaria's mud-quarter. Mother died birthing him, father died in the mines—the usual story. Learned swordwork killing rats in granaries for copper. Learned magic when a dying hedge wizard needed water and paid in knowledge. Studied three years at the Tower before they kicked him out for "unauthorized practical application" (burned down the library fighting a possessed librarian). Came to Eboncrest chasing a basilisk bounty, stayed for Elara's apple pie. Wields Whisperwind—skyforged steel that sings murder. Knows three battle spells that matter: fire to cleanse, ice to trap, wind to rule the field. Married Elara against her father's wishes. Plans children he'll teach to fight. Maintains the town through reputation—bandits avoid Eboncrest's roads, monsters hunt elsewhere. Takes payment in gold, respect, and breakfast. Age thirty-two, expects to die by forty, plans to make it count.

(size:0.8)[<div class='bottom_right'><span class=borderless-solid>(link:"Renders by Sorrow")[**dfqdhfV gxU** (size:0.5)[*Think Caesar, then reverse... the vowels will follow the cycle of Aeolus.*]] (link-repeat:"Drawings by OscarLewd")[(open-url: 'https://twitter.com/oscarlewd')]</span></div>]

<div class="content-wrapper"> <div class="tw-story-title">The Hero's Departure</div> <p>I wake up, warm and snug, wrapped in the heavenly scent of my wife, Elara...</p> </div>

{ (live:0.5s)[(display:"check sound")(if:$sound)[(unless:$old_ambience is 0)[(newtrack:$old_ambience,"aud/" + $old_ambience + ".mp3")](unless:$ambience is 0)[(newtrack:$ambience,"aud/" + $ambience + ".mp3") (track:$ambience, "volume",1)(if:(datatype:(track:$ambience, 'isplaying')) is bool)[(unless: (track: $ambience, 'isplaying'))[(track: $ambience, 'play')] (track: $ambience,'loop', true)]] (unless:$old_ambience is $ambience)[ (unless:$old_ambience is 0 or $old_ambience is $ambience)[ (track: $old_ambience, 'fadeout',3)(print:"(live:3s)[(track: '" + (text:$old_ambience) + "', 'stop')(stop:)]") ](unless:$ambience is 0)[ (set:$old_ambience to $ambience)](else:)[(set:$old_ambience to 0)]]](stop:)(unless:$sound)[(masteraudio:'stopall')]] }

{ (live:0.5s)[(if:$sound is 0)[(set:$sound to "true")](if:$sound)[(unless:$old_sex_loop is 0)[(newtrack:$old_sex_loop,"aud/" + $old_sex_loop + ".mp3")](unless:$sex_loop is 0)[(newtrack:$sex_loop,"aud/" + $sex_loop + ".mp3") (track:$sex_loop, "volume",1)(if:(datatype:(track:$sex_loop, 'isplaying')) is bool)[(unless: (track: $sex_loop, 'isplaying'))[(track: $sex_loop, 'play')] (track: $sex_loop,'loop', true)]] (unless:$old_sex_loop is $sex_loop)[ (unless:$old_sex_loop is 0 or $old_sex_loop is $sex_loop)[ (track: $old_sex_loop, 'fadeout',3)(print:"(live:3s)[(track: '" + (text:$old_sex_loop) + "', 'stop')(stop:)]") ](unless:$sex_loop is 0)[ (set:$old_sex_loop to $sex_loop)](else:)[(set:$old_sex_loop to 0)]]](stop:)(unless:$sound)[(masteraudio:'stopall')]] }

{ (live:0.5s)[(display:"check sound")(if:$sound)[(unless:$old_song is 0)[(newtrack:$old_song,"aud/" + $old_song + ".mp3")](unless:$song is 0)[(newtrack:$song,"aud/" + $song + ".mp3") (track:$song, "volume",1)(if:(datatype:(track:$song, 'isplaying')) is bool)[(unless: (track: $song, 'isplaying'))[(track: $song, 'play')] (track: $song,'loop', true)]] (unless:$old_song is $song)[ (unless:$old_song is 0 or $old_song is $song)[ (track: $old_song, 'fadeout',3)(print:"(live:3s)[(track: '" + (text:$old_song) + "', 'stop')(stop:)]") ](unless:$song is 0)[ (set:$old_song to $song)](else:)[(set:$old_song to 0)]]](stop:)(unless:$sound)[(masteraudio:'stopall')]] }

(display:"check sound")(if:$sound)[(unless:$se is 0)[(newtrack:$se,"aud/" + $se + ".mp3")(track: $se, 'loop', false)(track:$se, "volume",1)(track: $se, 'play')]](unless:$sound)[(masteraudio:'stopall')]

{ <script> function revertToOriginal() { const twStory = document.querySelector("tw-story"); const twPassage = document.querySelector("tw-passage"); const greyBorder = document.querySelectorAll(".greyborder"); const dividerLine = document.querySelectorAll(".divider-line"); const chapterHeadingLeft = document.querySelectorAll(".chapter-heading-left"); const chapterHeadingRight = document.querySelectorAll(".chapter-heading-right"); const chapterLabel = document.querySelectorAll(".chapter-label"); const twStoryTitle = document.querySelectorAll(".tw-story-title"); const twStoryHeading = document.querySelectorAll(".tw-story-heading"); twStory.style.backgroundColor = "#f5deb3"; twPassage.style.backgroundColor = "#f5deb3"; twStory.style.color = "#4a2424"; greyBorder.forEach(element => { element.style.borderColor = "#4a2424"; }); dividerLine.forEach(element => { element.style.borderBottomColor = "#4a2424"; }); chapterHeadingLeft.forEach(element => { element.style.color = "#4a2424"; }); chapterHeadingRight.forEach(element => { element.style.color = "#4a2424"; }); chapterLabel.forEach(element => { element.style.color = "#666"; }); twStoryTitle.forEach(element => { element.style.color = "#4a2424"; element.style.borderBottomColor = "#4a2424"; }); twStoryHeading.forEach(element => { element.style.color = "#4a2424"; element.style.borderBottomColor = "#4a2424"; }); } revertToOriginal(); </script> }

{ (set:$game_over to (macro: str-type _target_page_name, num-type _chapter, str-type _message, [ (out:)[<div class='options'>(notification:_message)(size:3)[The End?]</div><div class='options'><span class='borderless'>(link:"Rewind to last critical decision...")[(masteraudio:"stopall") (set: $targetPageName to _target_page_name) (set: $targetIndex to (indexofpage: $pages, $targetPageName)) (if: $targetIndex > 0)[ (set: $pagesToRemove to (altered: _page via _page's "page", ...(subarray: $pages, $targetIndex, $pages's length))) (set:$pages_being_removed to (find: _page where ($pagesToRemove contains _page's "page"), ...$pages)) (set: $pages to $pages - (find: _page where ($pagesToRemove contains _page's "page"), ...$pages)) (set:$stat_changes to $stat_changes - (find: _stat_change where ($pagesToRemove contains _stat_change's "page"),...$stat_changes)) ] (set:$current_page to _target_page_name) (set:$current_chapter to _chapter) (set: $rewind_page to $current_page) (set: $current_index to $targetIndex) (if: $current_index > 1)[ (set: $prev_page to "page" of ($pages's (max: 1, $current_index - 1))) ](else:)[ (set: $prev_page to "none") ] (set: $stat_changes to (find: _stat_change where not (_stat_change's "page" is $current_page), ...$stat_changes))(goto:$current_page)]</span></div>]] )) }

(set:$hidden_menu_visited to "true")<div class='main_menu'>(set:$sidebar to true)<div class='tw-story-title'>The Secret Menu!</div><div class='options'>You are now one of the select few who knows where the secret menu is. Hearty congratulations are in order. (if:$hidden_gem_hints is "true")[(notification:"Hidden gem hints active! 💎")](else:)[(link:"Activate hidden gem hints! 💎")[(notification:"You will now get a hint whenever a hidden gem is present on the current page. 💎")(set:$hidden_gem_hints to "true")]] (size:0.8)[Click on any chapter to jump to it - but that the game will treat you as if you made all the "canon" choices, and will *overwrite that chapter's save slot* if you already have one.] (link:"Chapter 2 - The Collar")[(display:"jump to chapter 2")] (link:"Chapter 3 - Domesticated")[(display:"jump to chapter 3")] (link:"Chapter 4 - Homecoming")[(display:"jump to chapter 4")] (link:"Chapter 5 - The Dungeon")[(display:"jump to chapter 5")] (link:"Chapter 6 - The Visit")[(display:"jump to chapter 6")] </div></div>(display:"dark mode")

{(print:$stat of (dm:"jarkrond","Jarkrond's interest","heroism","Your heroism","snib","Snib's satisfaction","elara","Elara's love for you","gold","Your gold","grokk","Grokk's satisfaction","town","Your town's respect for you","oil_marked","Oil marked")) has (print:(cond:(abs:$gain) is 1, "slightly ","") + (cond:$gain > 5, "increased by $gain.",$gain < -5, "decreased by $gain.",$gain > 0,"increased.","decreased."))}

(set:$sidebar to true)<div class='tw-story-title'>Character Status</div>(if:$gender is "male")[(display:"male status")](else-if:$name is "???")[(display:"unknown status")](else:)[(display:"female status")](display:"Sidebar")

{ ($play:"sex loop",0) }

{ (masteraudio:"stopall") }

{(newtrack:$se_to_stop,"aud/" + $se_to_stop + ".mp3") (if:$sound)[(if:$se_to_stop is any of (a:$se,$old_se,$sex_loop,$old_sex_loop,$song,$old_song,$ambience,$old_ambience))[(unless:$se_to_stop is 0)[(track:$se_to_stop,"stop")]]] }

{(newtrack:$se_to_stop,"aud/" + $se_to_stop + ".mp3") (if:$sound)[(if:$se_to_stop is any of (a:$se,$old_se,$song,$old_song,$ambience,$old_ambience))[(unless:$se_to_stop is 0)[(track:$se_to_stop,"fadeout",5)(live:5s)[(stop:)(track:$se_to_stop,"stop")]]]] }

{(newtrack:$se_to_stop,"aud/" + $se_to_stop + ".mp3") (if:$sound)[(if:$se_to_stop is any of (a:$se,$old_se,$song,$old_song,$ambience,$old_ambience))[(unless:$se_to_stop is 0)[(track:$se_to_stop,"fadeout",30)(live:30s)[(stop:)(track:$se_to_stop,"stop")]]]] }

(if:$pages is 0)[(if:$just_refreshed is 0)[(set:$just_refreshed to false)](set:$map to "img/maps/map 1.jpg")(if:$name is 0)[(set:$name to "Aldric")(set:$portrait to "img/portrait/aldric/neutral/1.png")(set:$last_redo_points to 3)(set:$heroism to 100)(set:$gender to "male")(set:$current_page to "01 Begin")(set:$prev_page to "01 Begin")](set:$pages to (a:))(set:$lorebook to (dm: "places",(a:"Zaelasia"), "people",(a:), "things",(a:"Whisperwind"), "beasts",(a:)))(set:$stat_changes to (a:(dm:"stat","none","page","none","amount",0)))(set:$all_chapters_unlocked to false)(display:"sync stats")(set:$redos to 3)(set:$abridged to false)]

{(sync_stats:)}

(if: (saved-games: ) contains "Chapter 4")[<div class='bottom_left'><img class='background-img' src='img/title/title slave desert.png' width='100%' height=auto></div>](else-if: (saved-games: ) contains "Chapter 2")[<div class='bottom_left'><img class='background-img' src='img/title/title slave.png' width='100%' height=auto></div>](else:)[<div class='bottom_left'><img class='background-img' src='img/title/title male.png' width='100%' height=auto></div>]

{}

(pic:"status/unknown.png","borderless","right")**Name:** ??? **Race:** ??? **Class:** ??? **Age:** ??? **Height:** ??? **Weight:** ??? <span class='meter-container-half'>(color:"white")[(meter: bind $heroism, 100, "X", "Heroism: $heroism/100", (gradient: 90, 0, red, 1, orange))]</span> *Something is terribly wrong.* Cold iron at the throat. Flesh that isn't yours. A voice that comes out wrong. The collar knows who you are. You don't.

{ (if:$bad_ends is 0)[(set:$bad_ends to (a:))] (unlock: $bad_end's "title") (notification:"Bad End Unlocked in the Gallery: '" + $bad_end's "title" + "'") }

{ (if:$redos < 1)[ <div class='options'>**You don't have any redo points left...**</div>](else:)[(replace:?options)[(text-style:"fade-in-out")[<div class='options'>**Spending 1 redo point to unlock choices!**</div>($play:"sound","rewind")(set:$redos to it - 1)]] (set:"choices" of ($pages's (indexofpage:$pages,$current_page)) to (a:"unlocked") + "choices" of ($pages's (indexofpage:$pages,$current_page))) (live:2s)[(stop:)(rerun:?options)(redos:"update")]] }

(live:100)[ { <script> window.updateRedoWidget(); </script> } (stop:)]

<div class='main_menu'>(set:$sidebar to true)<div class='tw-story-title'>Credits</div>This was really fun to do. I'd like to thank: **Sorrow, for the wonderful 3d renders used throughout the book.** **My Subscribers, for supporting my writing and offering input on early builds!** **OscarLewd, for the great drawings and initial character design.** *- Aphrodite*</div> (unless:$hidden_menu_visited is "true")[(notification:"HINT: Click 'Aphrodite' on the main menu screen for the secret cheats menu, where you can jump to any chapter without losing your redo points!") ](pic:"epilogue/thanks.png","center","borderless")<div class='options'>(display:"links")</div>