Tyrande seeks to seduce Anduin during a summit in Stormwind. The Little Lion proves to be far more than she can handle.
Contains: M/F, Human/Night Elf, Cum bloating, Huge Tits, Huge Cock, Breeding, Corruption, Role reversal, Anal sex, Vaginal sex, Tittyfucking, Excessive semen, Limitless stamina, Unrealistic proportions, Complete disregard for anatomical correctness,
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Gryphons circled around Stormwind Keep, their riders keeping a watchful eye on the streets below and on the horizon.
The docks were full of ships from every Alliance nation as their leaders had been summoned to a gathering by Anduin Wrynn, the new High King of the Alliance. The city was alive with visitors from all over, many curious about what would happen after the Burning Legion's defeat. Whispers of a new conflict between the Horde and Alliance were common in the weeks following Sargeras's defeat.
Tyrande Whisperwind sat on the other side of the young king, watching silently.
The meeting was not going as smoothly as Anduin had hoped, the night elven priestess could tell. A youth of 19 years, most other leaders assembled around the long table respected him for his kind and patient nature, yet few truly thought of him as a king.
It was as though he had no true authority over the Alliance's member-states, and no strength of will sufficient enough to impose his will over the council.
"With all due respect, Anduin, we cannot take these acts of aggression lightly... I know you are young, but..."
Anduin glanced at Greymane. The man had been King of Gilneas when Anduin's late father was still at his mother's breast and now, he served as a mentor and advisor. Still, he did not seem to trust Anduin's wisdom.
Tyrande knew that he had spent years learning all he could of warfare and diplomacy, having lived for a time in Darnassus. Why were all these people now doubting him?
"Yes, Genn... I know," he replied, trying not to let his frustration show through.
Anduin took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, his gaze immediately landed on Tyrande Whisperwind and her adopted daughter, Shandris Feathermoon. More specifically, his eyes landed on the valley of titflesh on display before him, the High Priestess of the Kaldorei's enormous, wobbling tits straining against the thin fabric of her holy garments.
The two elven women smirked. Few could resist the Chosen of Elune's gigantic knockers, her fat nipples visible through the delicate cloth of her robes.
As one so focused on learning how to be the best leader he could, Anduin had never taken the time to find a wife or even court a girl, outside what he had learned at the numerous balls he had been forced to attend. But the more he looked at this spectacle, this elven tit-valley, the harder it became to think clearly about anything else. He felt a familiar stirring in his loins, one which he would have to handle very soon, which demanded his attention, which caused his pants to tighten almost painfully...
Tearing his gaze from those luscious orbs took much of his willpower, and he tried to bring himself back into the conversation.
"Stromgarde needs to be reinforced! A garrison must be put in place to avoid the Horde taking the Highlands and descending further south into Khaz Modan!" Muradin Bronzebeard shouted, slamming his fist on the wooden council table.
Shandris turned her head to the dwarf, eyeing him for a moment. She was unarmed, having placed her bow on a wall near the door. "There are far more pressing matters at hand. Sylvanas has not yet shown interest in the Eastern Kingdoms, yet we have been told that SI:7 has spotted Horde activity in Kalimdor. We fear they may strike at the Kaldorei before it is too late. Their forces are far more numerous on the Western continent than here," she said, her voice smooth and devoid of animosity.
"Bah! We'll see what the Council of Three Hammers has to say about that, lass!" the Bronzebeard representative replied hotly.
Voices became louder as each leader tried to get their point across. Tyrande remained quiet, her silver orbs fixed on Anduin, measuring his every movement. She could tell by his breathing that he was slowly losing patience and she detected something else, the unmistakable hints of a young man aroused.
Her full lips curled into a smirk.
Anduin sighed, rubbing his temples as he struggled to think of a way to make these people come together, to see things from a common perspective. With Tyrande's gaze on him, he found himself distracted once more, his eyes drawn to the enormity of her breasts, those fat elven udders resting on the table.
Though she could not see beneath the table, Tyrande could imagine Anduin's cock, how it throbbed at the sight of her chest, her twin mountains larger than her head by a fair margin.
He shook his head and forced himself to look away.
The boy feels shame for getting distracted again,
thought Tyrande.
He cannot think clearly. The lust he has been suppressing for so long will soon boil over.
When he rejoined the conversation, everyone around him was shouting and Muradin had left the room, slamming the door behind him.
"I... think it would be better if we took the day off, Anduin," the Prophet Velen said, offering the young king a smile.
"You are right, Velen. The meeting is adjourned until tomorrow," he declared to those that remained in the chamber.
All those present could see how little things were progressing and so did not object when Anduin asked them to leave. Velen was among the last to go, leaving Anduin alone with Tyrande, who had said little during the whole thing.
"I wished to speak to you in private," she said. Though she was well over ten thousand years old, she looked no older than thirty-five, with curves that screamed of feminine excess and motherly softness. Her enormous thighs overflowed from her seat, carrying an ass that defied all reason or logic.
He keeps staring at my tits, thinking about how they may be the reason for Malfurion and Illidan fighting over me for so long.
