Tabletops and Tablebottoms

You, the reader, play the role of a nameless, voiceless adventurer, sent by your mysterious master-slash-benefactor, to learn how to deal with adventurers of other classes. Butt sex ensues.

This series is inspired by Pathfinder, the TTRPG I have the most experience with as both a player and as a game master. Players of other high-fantasy type games might appreciate this as well. Characters are mostly humans but because this is fantasy, there will be some other races.

This will not be a traditional chaptered story, but a collection of vignettes in you, the adventurer's sex romp across a Generic Fantasy World. As such, you can read future instalments in any order. This one, however, is chronologically first. Also, updates will be sporadic.

Tabletops and Tablebottoms, 1: Bottoming For the Barbarian

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My apprentice. Your adventure begins at sea, where a chartered boat will take you to your destination. You sail for the frozen wastes of the continent to the east, past the treacherous ocean, where a supernatural frigidity has settled on these witch-cursed lands. You have enough provisions to last you for a while, but if you can restock, you should do it at your earliest convenience.

You are an adventurer now, and on your travels, you will encounter others like you. Some are willing to share stories and a campfire, as kindred spirits will. Some have more devious designs on your gold and supplies, and wouldn't think twice about killing you. The world is full of warriors and spellcasters of all stripes, praying to all manner of god, or effigy, or demon. You must be ready for all of them. I wish you luck.

Foremost, beware the barbarian, for he is the most fearsome force on any battlefield. A bloodthirsty berserker, he will not stop until his enemies are vanquished by his blade. You might think he can be reasoned with, but the moment he enters his blood rage, your options are fight or die. And he is not likely to die....

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The journey had been long, and you had never been at sea before. Having only eaten a single meal on your days-long trip, your stomach grumbles at you. But you didn't want to risk vomiting over the side of the ship. Again. At long last, you disembark from the boat and arrive at a frigid docklands, the icy water sloshing all around you. You are met with a nauseating stench that combines tar, grilling fish, and a blacksmith's smoke, and for a second, you come close to throwing up. Again.

Steeling yourself, you step off the docks, freezing cold, wrapped in many now-damp--some frozen--layers of fur and wool, and you've never been so glad to be on solid land before. Still, despite you feeling a little pathetic, you are thrilling inside at your new life. An adventurer! Like the stories! That was pretty cool.

You take in the sights of a dreary, permanently wintry town before you, where the sun shone white and high in the stark blue sky. The dour faces of the inhabitants tell you that this was a hard place to live. Thankfully you're only here for a little bit. You think you might ask them for directions, maybe to the nearest inn, but think better of it when you see a dwarf accost a human for dusting off their coat near him. Yeah. That's for the best.

Hefting your sword and pack, you head for the interior of town. Everything was going alright so far. You daresay, even good! ...and that was when your trouble started.

"You! Thief!" A thundering, angry voice from somewhere in the distance makes your spine crawl, and you whip around to see what the commotion is about. A few citizens crane their heads to look, but some just keep their stares down, flattened by the presence of him. A battle-scarred warrior that would easily crush you stood at the head of a ship dock. His dark brown eyes were hard and glinting with fury.

And they were staring directly at you.

You put your hands up, open your mouth to protest, but he was already moving. Weighed down by so little armour as to leave himself practically topless, his enormous form bounds in your direction. Your hand instinctively reaches for your sword hilt, and as you brace your impact, he closes in....

And runs past you, chasing after a different guy, one who had definitely stolen his thing. Your heart races, pounding loudly in your ears. Fuck, what a thrill. Once you gather yourself, staring down the length of the docks where the imposing warrior had gone down, an idea comes to you. You should help him out! That's what heroes did--helped the needy.

'He hardly seemed needy,' you consider inwardly, but before you could really rationalise it, you were already headed down the same path. Your first task as an adventurer. It was thrilling.

When next you encounter the huge, imposing warrior, he had reached the end of town where it gave way to endless tundra. He has his hands on his hips, staring into the distance, his brow furrowing with anger. This man was at least as tall as one and a half of you, and twice as wide as you, to boot. A round, fur-covered belly betrays his strong chest and solid biceps, which you worry would easily crush your head like a melon.

He sees you coming, and he whirls on you, his hand already on the hilt of his axe he kept at his side. Dark blue painted with lines and dots of stark, mineral white cover much of his face, and the rest was covered by a long, shaggy blond beard. His entire body quaked as he moved. He was so dizzyingly tall.

"You," he starts, and his voice makes you want to shrink into a nearby wall. "That thief that came this way. Do you know him?" You shake your head in denial, hoping he sees your terrified sincerity. "Damn it. He stole my raven token...the one thing I cannot lose!"

'Seems like you already did,' you want to say, but decide against it, as you didn't fancy your head coming off of your body on your first day of work.

You are startled by the way he roughly grabs your shoulder, and leads you towards a stable of sled dogs; they're yoked to their sleds in groups of four. "Have you coin?" he says in a gruff tone, hardly a question. "Pay the hostler. I need to chase after that thief and recover my token." He leans in close, and you get the air of medicinal herbs off of his breath. "I must recover it. Lest this entire town face terrible danger. Do you understand me?"

You nod. The stablemaster looked nearly as shocked as you when you drop a gold coin into his open, confused hand, and you are once again grabbed by your shoulder. The warrior throws you into the seat, and off you go into the frosty wilderness.

Rock formations and forgotten paths, grown over in lichen, surge past you as the dogs race into the white abyss. You are all too aware of the warrior poised above you, his hands on the lead. From where you sit, you could look up and be greeted by the expanse of his broad, furry belly. And you could take in his surprisingly clean, woodsy smell....

In the distance, some long minutes later, a campfire's smoke begins to grow in the distance. The warrior grunts, and urges the dogs towards it. They howl, and chase the image. You could feel it then; heat pouring off of the warrior's skin and into the back of your head. He was grunting and breathing belabouredly at a regular pace now, his eyes fixated on the horizon. He seemed...to grow bigger in presence, but you guess that's probably not what's happening...right?

You close in on the campfire, and lo and behold--the thief from the docks. For whatever reason, he was tending the fire by himself, and as if he couldn't appear to be more the criminal, he had taken out the warrior's token. A pendant, silvery and deep blue, like the paint that decorated his skin. The thief turns it over in his hands once--and jumps when he hears the dogs howling.

The warrior behind you roars, and somewhere deep in there, as if superimposed upon his voice, you hear the screaming song of a thousand ravens. With a bout of superhuman strength, he leaps from the dog sled, brandishing his axe. Knocked off kilter, the dogs yelp, and as the cart tumbles to the side of them, they and you are taken with it. With a cry, you are knocked from your seat and black out as you hit the snow.

The last thing you hear before losing consciousness is the warrior's bellowing battle cry, a meek scream, and the sick crunch of metal on bone.

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When next you come to, you are warm. You are cocooned in a swath of furs and blink back the smoke and light of a small fire. Grumbling, you pull yourself up, and come to in what appears to be...someone's home? It sure smells that way anyway...was that soup? You sniff the air, past the plume of smoke that disappeared up into a chimney, and encounter the broad back of that warrior, once again.

He is turned away from you, minding a pot that bubbled away on a separate, smaller fire. You watch his back rumble as he speaks. "Please...forgive me," he intones. "I did not mean to cause you harm like that. I only see the one who wronged me, and...." His shoulders slump, a sigh escaping him. For a second, you want to reach out to touch him. "I get angry."

"It's my curse as a warrior." He wasn't looking at you, just absently stirring the pot over the fire while he commiserates. "For great strength, I paid with my self-control. When I become angry, I have no inhibitions. I become...something. My ancestors...we are called berserkers." He turns to you, and your breath catches as you see the angry red slash that races across his cheek. You reach towards him.

"This?" he mutters. "Heh, the bastard got a good hit on me, at least." Your hand trembling, you close the distance. His eyes, ringed in the blue of his face paint, go wide for just a split second, but when you touch his cheek just below his new wound, he sighs. In spite of himself, he leans into your touch, letting out a shuddering breath.

"I cannot thank you enough for helping me," he says quietly, barely louder than the crackling fire. "If you'll stay for a while...I'll have you." His brown eyes were so plaintive, and so full of many requests. You didn't have to be a mind reader to know what he was asking of you. In the firelight of his home, he was lit up in orange and the fading glow of sunset. The warrior was huge, wide, and seemed to be made up of more hair than skin. And yet, as you kneeled in front of him, still holding his face, he had no aggression. Only a look that communicated more than he said.

You express your gratitude to your saviour by trailing your hands down his long, hairy body. The whorls of his body hair gave way to your gentle fingers, caressing his skin. He groans, his voice wavering as you take him in. He was huge. How was this going to work? But the questions give way to lurid images of the two of you fucking, and your throat goes dry. You reach his belt buckle, where his bulge was straining against his well-worn pants.

Your eyes boggle at it. Even under wraps like that, it looked to be enormous. More than you could take. As you stare, he takes you by the wrists, and his touch is shockingly gentle. Calloused hands wrap around yours, carefully as if you would shatter.

"You don't have to," the warrior whispered. "I could just do you and I would be content." But you shake your head at him, and lean in close to wrap your arms around his enormous midsection. He sighs dreamily at the touch, stroking your back with a huge hand.

You inhale him deeply; the smell of skin, his unwavering manliness, and whatever herbs he seemed to clean himself with. The indelible smell of battle that permeated a warrior like himself. You drift lower, and press your cheek against his immense bulge. Working quickly, you unlace the pouch that was keeping from your treasure. And when you arrive at his cock, you pull it out, marvelling at it, lust and fear boiling in your gut. Nine thick inches of man meat, and it had to be just half as thick as your wrist. It throbbed in the firelight, a tantalising bead of precum sparkling orange at his head.

"Please..." you hear him groan. You didn't need more encouragement than that! Wetting your lips, you close your mouth around just his cherry-coloured cock head and suck, sealing him in with vacuum force. His enormous body shakes with the sensation of you, and a low groan escapes him as you slowly, slowly work your way down his enormous tool. He keeps a hand on the back of your head as you suck him down, taking him in as you test the limits of your throat against his cock. You can reach about three quarters of the way down before you start to choke, your tunnel too full of him.

He puts his hands on either side of your head, whispering, "You feel amazing, you need not continue...." But you were determined to prove him wrong. You inch forward, finding new purchase by rhythmically swallowing down and breathing deep through your nostrils, though it becomes harder the deeper you bury your nose into his bush. He lets out a quavering sigh at this. Long minutes of sucking his cock later, and your throat feels like it's been massaged open. Wider. Ready to receive him.

When you feel his huge hand on your chin, gently pulling you up, though, you comply. Strings of spit and throat slime run from your mouth to his shaft. He stares deeply into you, his warm brown eyes taking on the fire's orange glow. "You amaze me," he mutters, words only for you. "Please...I need you. Can I?"

His hands on either side of your face made his broad heat swim into your skull, and it makes you dizzier and dizzier. Overwhelmed by the vast, broad sensation that is the warrior, you lick his cock one more time to savour his taste before you allow him in. Then, you lead him to the rug in the middle of the floor.

You can't help but stare up at his absolutely enormous prick while he greases himself up for you. "Whale blubber," he mentions when you wrinkle your nose at the foreign smell. And when he lines himself up at your lubed entrance, you swallow. "You may tell me to stop at any time," he reminds you, and his eyes are pleading, soft with sincerity. You give him a smile and shake your head, stroking his huge, round belly.

The warrior leans down to kiss you as he penetrates you, and it is quite certainly the most difficult thing you've had to do this week. The angry, fat head of his cock pops past your inexperienced anal ring, just barely helped along by the grease. You're worrying for the middle of his cock: the fattest, thickest part of it. You let out a gasp at the overwhelming feeling of fullness. Your hands on his shoulders, he is nonetheless slow and attentive as he sinks in.

"That's it..." the warrior whispers, a grumble in your ears; "you are taking my mighty weapon in you. You are a warrior like me. Aaghh...you...are so strong." At this point, you can feel tears running down your face as you continue to accept his enormous cock. Setting out to show this man how strong you were was proving difficult. But you wouldn't have been able to tell, with how stiff and aroused your own cock was at his invasion. You could see yourself leaking all over your hand as you stroked yourself off.

When you put your hand to his handsome, bearded face, he sucks in your precum-covered thumb, holding your stare. He smiles around your digit, and sinks all the way into your poor, stretched hole. "Amazing..." he whispers, his voice ragged. "You are everything I need." He pushes up, angling himself upright to stare at your body, prone before him. He likes what he sees, his breath coming out as a wracked gasp as he pulls back and in; he grabs your ankles to allow himself into you.

"I will now move," he grunts; "you'd better be prepared." You nod your consent, and he sinks back in, faster this time. His thrusts are measured, a regular slap against the back of your thighs as his meat plunges into your ass. You can feel your body shift with his motions, rocking up and down on the rug he fucked you on. His vast body shakes with the effort.

A fire burns in your once pristinely-tight asshole as he fucks you, claims you, and makes you his male bride for the night. "You are incredible," he groans, his voice escaping him as gasps and sobs. "My good boy. My very good boy." You run your hands up his quaking, muscled belly to grab at his chest. Sweaty mats of hair greet you as you massage his tits, revelling in the fullness of them under your fingers. "Yes!" he lets out; "Touch me everywhere. That's such a good boy...."

Nothing, you think, would be better in this moment than to stay his good boy. The warrior's enormous tool continues to bust open your once virginal hole, marking you with the smell of his precum, his musk. Your vision swims in the firelit heat of his home as your head fills with his presence. The sound of his thighs slapping against your ass is like thunder rolling in the sky.

He hefts two massive arms underneath yours, and starts lifting you up. Instinctively you wrap your legs tight around his hips and hold on. With a great grunt and a heave, the warrior and you are both vertical; you are pinned to his body as your hole slides all the way down to the base of his cock. Your resulting cry is muffled by the sensation of him kissing you fully. He tastes of herbs and liquor; you moan around his tongue as it presses into you, searching. He is slick with sweat and heat.

"I need you," you hear him muttering. "You are mine. My good boy." You wrap your arms around the warrior's neck; his sweaty hair sticks to your arms. He moans into you, and carries you over to a table pushed against a wall. As he sets you down lengthwise, he straddles the table, and continues pummelling into you. By this point, your hole has been loosened by his efforts, and you feel sweat and precum sloshing at your tender entrance.

You can hardly stand it; you begin stroking your cock. The heat could burn a hole in your hand...and you let out a grunt of dismay when he stops you.

"Please," he says, a huge hand around your wrist. "Not before me. I wish to taste you." He cries out as he pulls back out of you, almost all the way. "I need--" thrust! "--to know--" thrust! "--how my good boy tastes." And that last thrust causes your eyes to roll back in your head. Tender as he was, his enormous figure commanded you with such animal magnetism that you release your desperately throbbing cock.

The warrior fucks you on this table, its squeaks worrying you only minimally as you give into his intrusion. Unable to touch yourself, your cock is weeping copious amounts of precum, and it collects onto your body to mix with your sweat. Numbly, you are aware that this warrior is lasting for quite a long time, not having once cum inside of you. It's become much easier to take his enormous cock, though the pressure inside you is heavy and great indeed.

At some other point, he lifts you up again, and like you were nothing but a training dummy, he finally lays you on his bed. Soft elk pelts surround you as the warrior looms over you. His face is red with effort, twisted in a mask of what looked like pain. "Good boy," he mutters over and over again, having lost himself inside your tight tunnel; "good boy. Good boy...." He repeats it like it's the only thing keeping him alive.

You touch a hand to his face, and he lets out a deep, rumbling groan. Concerningly, you hear that eldritch sound again behind his voice: the songs of ravens screeching. "I must not..." he presses out; "lose control!" But his pace picks up as he fucks you, his cock slick with both of your hot fluids. "Aaaarrghhh! It's so--hard--! I can't--! I can't let you go!"

The warrior's enormous body is quaking, and his whole body reddens, deeper than before. He is panting raggedly, sick with effort, and cursing and bellowing with obvious little care for who heard him. "You are such a good boy!" he lets out. "I can't--I can't stop myself." Your sore, spent hole clenches around him, and he lets out a feral groan.