With the wind at her back, Lyralei dashed through the forests, bow in hand. To others, she would seem a green streak, with a thick hood covering her thick mane of red hair.
The one known as Windranger only had one objective in mind: defending her homeland from the vile Dire who would defile it. Reports had come in of these creatures attacking the defensive structures at the edge of the forests and she had been dispatched to take care of the problem.
The ranger's sensitive ears picked up the sounds of combat nearby. Nocking an arrow, she crouched behind a bush, attempting to spot the threat.
Beneath one of the enchanted towers, scores of allied soldiers had perished. Lyralei would not mourn them, for they were simple constructs. At the foot of the tower, a handful of enemy minions had gathered, whacking at the defenseless monolith. The tower could destroy foes with powerful energy blasts, but it could only destroy them one at a time, giving ample time for the mindless automatons to attack and destroy the tower.
"Time for target practice," whispered the red-haired archer, pointing her bow towards the creeps attacking the tower. Sidestepping once to get a better angle, she closed her eyes, muttering a quick spell. As she opened her eyes suddenly, she let fly. The arrow, blessed with the forest's winds, shot forth. Any tree in the way was obliterated as the projectile flew through the air.
Every one of the constructs hit by the arrow died on the spot as it flew through every one of them. Those who were lucky enough to avoid the shot were quickly taken care of by the battered tower.
"Easy breezy!" Windranger said, standing in the forest's shade. It felt like she'd said those words a thousand times before.
Before long, she heard hoarse cackling from behind her. Turning her head to its source, she was greeted by the sight of a long line of jagged spikes rising from the ground towards her at an alarming speed. Managing to dodge the worst of those spikes, she nonetheless lost her footing as a small shard of stone erupted from the ground, wounding her leg.
From behind a tree, a small, frog-like man with purple skin appeared. The man's huge, demonic armed appeared completely out of proportion, exuding vast amounts of power.
Lion.
Windranger had seen the Demon Witch before and she had witnessed the power he possessed.
A devious grin spread across his fanged mouth as he pointed a finger towards her. "To hell with you."
That single, oversized digit started crackling with red and yellow energies as a beam of pure, hellish fire shot towards the incapacitated ranger.
There was nothing she could do. Lyralei closed her eyes and lifted an arm to her face to try and protect herself from the evil spell.
Yet, nothing came of it. There was no burning. No being torn to shreds by demonic magic. Nothing. Only silence accompanied by gentle birdsong.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
She was in her room. Or, at least, it felt like her room. The memories were so fuzzy. Fuzzy like the pillows beneath her head.
The walls were painted a hot pink. Actually, almost everything was one shade or another of pink. She blinked, rubbing closed fists against her eyes to try and rid herself of that momentary confusion.
Lyralei sat up on the side of the bed, looking down at herself. Were her boobs always this big? She reached up to cup the enormous orbs, each one larger even than her own head.
"Oh my gosh, they were soooo small in my dream," the ranger thought, relieved that she still had these big, round boobies to play with and not the itty bitty titties. "I wouldn't be able to make anyone hard with boobs that small!"
She giggled to herself, noting how her huge, round tits overflowed somewhat from the sheer negligée she had worn to bed. The soft breeze coming from the open window brushed against her soft skin, causing her fat, juicy nipples to harden rapidly, tenting the pink fabric.
"Wait, that wasn't me."
A feeling of panic overtook the redhead, causing her to stand up walking to a nearby vanity, looking at herself in its mirror.
Something felt wrong. Everything felt so out of place. She needed a weapon.
Lyralei glanced around the room, hoping to find her trusted bow. Instead, all she saw were posters of hunky minotaur men, gossip magazines, and a collection of oversized dildos near her bed -- none of which appeared to be less than a foot long.
As though something from deep within her started tugging at her thoughts, she felt that panic being drowned by something else.
She needed to stuff herself full of the longest, thickest toy she had. No, she needed cock. She craved it.
Or did she?
She shook her head, pushing those intrusive thoughts aside with as much force of will as she could muster.
Her green eyes fell to the woman in the reflection. This was her... Yet, it wasn't.
The negligée she wore was short enough that it didn't even cover an inch of her bald cunt, already glistening in anticipation. Her hips and thighs had widened considerably, and her lips had become far more pronounced.
Not to mention her breasts, which had nearly quintupled in size, so round and firm.
It felt like she'd been reshaped into the perfect little breeding slut. Oh, how that term resonated well in her mind. How she loved thinking of herself as a little cocksleeve, waiting to be stuffed.
Shaking her head, the archer looked around, desperately searching for her weapon. Was this a dream? Was this her real life or was she confusing her dream's memories for her own?
Her heart began beating faster. She looked under her mattress, in the closet everywhere she could. She needed her bow. She didn't feel herself without it.
Falling to her knees, Lyralei sighed. In that moment of weakness, images began flooding her mind and she felt herself transported momentarily, spiritually, to another realm.
"COME, MY CHILD. SERVE."
Before her, sitting on a throne of obsidian, was the largest Minotaur she'd ever seen. The great, horned Titan stared down at her without a word, his gigantic, throbbing cock calling to her. That massive, veiny spire, well over two feet long, seemed like it was made for her.
