Jaina's Apprentice
A futanari half-elf's miscast spell gives her what she craves.
By Lena Trueshield
Contains: Futa half-elf OC/Jaina Proudmoore, Futanari, Futa on Female, Magical Accidents, Size difference (height), Power dynamics (teacher/student), Magical aphrodisiacs, Huge Tits, Big Cock (9 inches), Breast Worship, Lingerie, Handjobs, Oral Sex, Rimming, Cowgirl, Multiple orgasms, Ass worship, Sloppy oral, Anal sex, Rough sex, Creampies, Marathon sex, Age Gap, Cumshots, Body Worship, Dom/sub undertones, Sex Magic, Breast Groping, Fingering, Messy Sex, Anal Gaping, Service Top
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A long sigh left Emila's lips as she traced the precise patterns she'd been taught. Again and again.
Mastery through repetition,
Lady Proudmoore would often say.
Garbed in the pale blue robes that marked her as an apprentice of the arcane arts, the young half-elf worked diligently at the task she'd been given. Few were given the chance to study under one of Azeroth's greatest mages, and Emila reminded herself of this honor as she concentrated on her assignment.
The robes she wore were left half-open, revealing the trim form of a youth barely past her twentieth summer, clad in soft Silvermoon silks.
Her face, finely featured and adorned with large, expressive hazelnut eyes, twisted into an expression of supreme concentration, though her mind wandered treacherously. Fingers stained with purple ink worked to complete her fifth scroll of the day, quill fluttering about as the tip scratched at the parchment.
A drop of purple bloomed where her quill hesitated too long - something Jaina would doubtlessly make note of.
Unfortunately for Emila, thinking of Jaina Proudmoore was not something one wanted to do when concentration was required.
Her eyes widened, mortified, as she looked down upon the two pairs of concentric arcane circles she'd just finished tracing. Two large circles. With two smaller ones centered within.
The arcane pattern bore an unfortunate resemblance to something far less academic - something she'd been trying
very hard
not to think about whenever Lady Proudmoore leaned in close to correct her form during spellcasting practice.
Everything reminds me of her,
she groaned, cheeks taking on a reddish tint.
Desperately trying to focus on her work, Emila's body eventually betrayed her, as lurid thoughts of Jaina Proudmoore made her unique anatomy stir beneath her robes.
She shifted uncomfortably as her length strained against the confines of her silken undergarments. The afternoon lesson loomed with each passing moment, and she knew that if she didn't get herself under control soon, she would find herself completely unable to focus on but a single word the famed Archmage would speak.
Soon, she would have to present her work, standing before Jaina while her girlcock throbbed desperately.
Why did Jaina have to be so fucking stacked? Why did those huge fucking tits of hers have to bounce with every step she took, with every spell she cast?
Her quill snapped between trembling fingers.
Fuck.
Dropping what remained of her quill, she allowed her hand to slip beneath her robes, fingers trembling with surging arousal.
Just- Just enough to take the edge off...
she promised herself, fingers wrapping around her aching girlcock.
The first stroke drew a strangled gasp from her parted lips and a hefty dollop of clear precum which soon coated her fingers. She put the back of her hand to her mouth to try and stifle the sounds of her pleasure as she worked herself with desperate need.
Visions of Jaina flooded her mind - those huge, creamy tits, the casual touches during lessons, the way her robes hugged those obscene, cock-torturing curves...
The sudden chime of the clock shattered her haze, and she yanked her hand away. Her lesson was but twenty minutes away. She wouldn't have time to get off and get to the tower in time. Hurriedly, she gathered her supplies and scrolls and left her quarters.
Theramore's walls made her feel safe as hurried steps carried her to the central mage tower, overlooking the whole of the relatively small settlement. The sea breeze carried with it the scent of salt, and hundreds of sails waited patiently at the docks.
Just think about something else,
anything
else,
she told herself, clutching her bundle of scrolls tighteras she crossed one of the smaller courtyards. Her predicament made each step torturous, length straining against silken smallclothes with every movement.
The cool shade offered by Jaina's tower offered little relief, for she had to ascend to the very top. Teleportation magic was unavailable to any outside Jaina, as a powerful enchantment had been placed upon the very stones of the tower, thus blocking such magic entirely.
Anxiety and horror gripped at the thought of facing her teacher in such a state, and she dearly hoped the climb would prove physically exerting enough to lower the pressure.
However, she found that her condition only worsened during the climb, her shaft throbbing insistently against her thigh. By the time she'd reached the top landing, she was panting softly.
Upon reaching her master's study, Emila steadied herself and knocked on its heavy oaken door.
While more extravagant mages might have simply opened the door through some complex magical mechanism or through some arcane spell, Jaina's response was a simple "Enter."
Emila pushed the door open, stepping into the circular chamber.
Soft light bathed every surface in the room, the open windows offering a perfect view of Theramore's port and the dozens of ships anchored therein.