Author's Note: This is based on The Alarian tales of Perversion by Philo Hunter, and is set on that world. This is my take on a sequel or continuation to one of their short stories," Strudert's Good Deed." You needn't have read the short story to understand what is going on though. But if you enjoy lots of breast play, corruption, voluptuous curves, and themes of impregnation do check out their stuff. Anyways onto the story. It's a bit of a departure from what I usually write, but it was still fun to do. Anyways as always feedback and comments welcome.
XOXO
Chapter 1
Ihonette smiled, reading the signage above the poorly kept tavern. The building was a small thing nestled in the armpit of two equally unkempt buildings and had the air of willful ignorance. And that was to say nothing of the smell that suffocated the area. She might have spent the last decade or so buried in all manner of unwashed humanity and bestial musk, but even she had to wrinkle her nose at the rancid scent that seemed to permeate every portion of the small town. As it may have been though, it didn't matter. All that mattered was the fact she'd found one of them.
He wasn't the one she wanted to find the most, but he'd be the first and was about as good as any place to start. Besides, she thought, stepping into the building, she'd like to see just how eager he was when she wasn't unconscious.
The tavern's interior wasn't much better than its exterior. Worn furniture, haggard patrons, and stale air. It was for all intents and purposes a shithole. She supposed she shouldn't have expected better, given the man who was said to be the owner, but still... He could have done better, she mused, strutting towards the bar, and catching the eyes of everyone in the place.
The barkeep smiled as she settled onto one of the bar's creaking stools, the leathers of her pants straining around her plump behind and thick thighs.
"What can I get you?" He asked, his voice aged, but no less recognizable.
Humans aged like flies, Ihonette thought, smiling back at her former party mate. He was in his middling years as far as she could tell, given the wrinkles etching his temples, his increased girth, and the specks of gray peppering his once mahogany locks. She had no idea which of his middling years he was, but then again she'd never been particularly good at doing so, and her years as a drooling cocksleeve hadn't made that skill any better. Whatever the case was, he didn't recognize her, not that she could blame him. Between the years spanning their last meeting and what looked like the inklings of a clouding of his vision, she was now to her former appearance as a butterfly was to a caterpillar. Besides the pointed ears of her elfin heritage, her brown hair, dark eyes, and tall stature, she may as well have been a different person.
She was now more or less the product of years of continuous sex, dozens of births, and other acts of debauched sexual perversions. Her once waifish hips were now the wide matronly shape of a brood mare, her ass was a bountiful pillow with more than enough cushion to handle the most brutal of thrusts, what had once ben a flat and taut stomach was now padded with enough fat to provide the barest hints of a paunch, her once paper thin lips were now the glossed and full forms perfect for sucking dick. She was a walking wet dream. A fact that didn't go unnoticed by the leering patrons watching her every step, and her tight leathers and high-heeled boots which served to double down on this.. And that was to say nothing of her tits. Though he'd seen and enjoyed the fruits of the bastard Strudert's rune-craft, she'd long ago outgrown the pitiful globes he'd cursed her with. Her mummeries were now the equal of melons and were better described as udders, given how often they leaked their creamy contents throughout the day.
"An ale and a bed," she replied, resting her elbows onto the chipped but somehow well-kept counter.
Nodding, he set down the mug he'd been busy wiping down," It'll be five copper for the drinks and ten silver for the night," he said, his eyes never once leaving the bulging mounds of her exposed cleavage and the thumb-sized ruby of her necklace nestle between them.
It was down right disrespectful, not the lasciviousness of his gaze but the price. It was downright exorbitant. Did he think her a fool or a bumbling maiden? It was enough to make her want to gut him right there and there with the rapier at her hip. But that wouldn't do, she still needed information and she wanted to at least enjoy herself.
So still smiling she reached between her breasts, plucked out her coin purse and laid out her payment before returning the sizeable purse into the valley of her mummeries.
Smiling and looking like an idiot, who'd never seen a pair of tits before, he took the money and returned a mug of barely frothing ale and a rusted key a moment later.
"So, what brings you to Dogs-shire?" he asked, returning to wiping down the chipped mug.
"You know," she said, shrugging before taking a sip of the piss-colored fluid," just passing through between adventuring."
"Oh," He said, nodding," you know, I used to be an adventurer too back in the day."
"Oh," she said, quirking an eyebrow, her lips hidden behind the rim of her mug.
"Yup," he answered, pointing to the bow mounted above the planks of insect bitten wood, that served as a shelf for his subpar tavern," was a ranger. Even had a bona-fide party an all," he beamed.
"A party?"
"Yup, had a cleric, a fighter, a rune-priest, and a gods damned Imrendale elf," he finished, spitting out the final words with a glob of phlegm onto the floor.
"Is that so?" She asked, feigning shock," what happened?"
"Nothing the bitch didn't deserve."
"I bet," she added, smothering the need to roll her eyes. He'd be getting what he deserved soon enough.
"Yup."
"So, what happened to the rest of your party?"
"Not much," he answered, shrugging," after the bitch, we all kinda went our separate ways. Crisa went back home, last I heard John was back in the pits or something, and Strudert," he said, shaking his head wistfully," lucky bastard got rich and became a lord or something up North."
"I see," she said, taking another sip of the piss poor ale.
"So, sides adventuring, is there anything else you do?"
"Oh, you know," she said, shrugging," a bit of performance here and there."
"That so," he said, trying not to sound too interested," what sort of performances?"
Blushing," you know... dancing and things."
"Oh," he said with barely contained interest," what sort of dancing?"
"I don..."
"Think you can put on a show for us?" He interrupted.
Her blush deepened, her loins throbbed in anticipation, and before she could voice her response the bumbling buffoon blurted," you lot wanna see a show?"
The drunken idiots cheered, and her response became a moot point. Not that it mattered, it was no different than what'd happened over the past fear years anyway.
Smiling pleasantly, she stood, unlatched the clasp of her cloak, and set it alongside her travel pack. Her pussy continued to throb as she felt the eyes of every man in the tavern on her body. It was exciting and she wanted more.
Setting aside her weapon she turned to face the horny crowd, plucked out a glittering thumb-sized crystal from her belt, tossed it onto a table, and sauntered forward as the thrum of drum music began thudding from the azure crystal.
With her nipples aching and her heart racing towards a gallop she sashayed her way towards the closest patron. A burly, wart-nosed man with a heart-shaped tattoo inked onto his tree trunk like arm.
He licked his lips, her hips swayed with exaggerated motion, and within a handful of heartbeats she'd glided her way towards him. Leaning forward and giving the man a face full of her bosom she cooed sweet nothings into his ear.
He reached and she deftly stepped away, trailing a finger on his shoulder to the laughter of the crowd.
She'd barely even started, and they were already clay in her hands.
Drinking in the patrons' cheers, she dove fully into the show. She had no memory of when she'd learned to dance, but the memories baked into her muscles and the hazy remembrance of her time as a cum guzzling doll, worked in her favor now. She supposed she should have been thankful for whichever mongrel had made her dance like a wanton whore, but she really didn't care.
Throwing her body this way and that, her bountiful assets adding to her lustful gyrations, she made her way through the boisterous crowd. She weaved, teasing, and cooing with every step. She hugged, smothering the men's faces within her bosom, letting them inhale her creamy yet sweat laced scent. They inhaled, inflaming their lusts. They groped and fondled as she ground her leather-bound body upon them. She was drenched, her skin gleaming beneath the dim lighting of the tavern as she basked in their lascivious adoration.
And as the music reached its crescendo, she found herself grinding her ass on the throbbing erection of a painfully gangly patron. His passable phallus was engulfed between the valley of her still covered bum as she gyrated to the beat of the music. She moved, bouncing up and down the straining tend of his breeches. He groaned reaching for her, but with a deft shift of her body she turned and buried the man's face into her tits.
He grunted, the music thumping at its climax as a shudder ran through his body as he creamed his pants.
Heaving, she let go of the panting man, bowed to her new fans, gathered her things,
and sauntered up to her room.
They would come. More importantly he would come.
As predicted, they came, knocking at her door, each willing to pay for time between her legs. And as much as Ihonette wanted to spread her legs and have each of the filthy men plow her till they were all insensate, she denied all of them. It pained her sensibilities and her quim and teats throbbed in protest with each rejection, but she held on, strewing in her anticipation.
And with the moon nearing its zenith and her drenched panties long ago abandoned, a knock came upon her door. Buzzing with barely restrained eagerness she opened her door and smiled, welcoming him in. He looked a bit tired but was no more worse for wear than he'd been when she'd entered the tavern.
Sitting on the threadbare mattress he called a bed the former ranger looked up and started," so how..."
"Sssshhh," Ihonette cooed, silencing him with a finger on his chapped lips," let me," she added, nibbling his ear lobe. She worked her way down, kissing his cheek, the crook of his neck, to his collar bone all the while running a hand across his fattened but still muscular body.
He groaned beneath her ministrations as his calloused hands groped her bare bum. She'd long ago abandoned her travel clothes and was in nothing but a thigh-length nightgown with fabric so sheer, she may as well have been naked for all it did. Not that either of them were complaining. He was fart to entranced by the feel of the pliant flesh of her plump derriere and the gentle sway of her tits with their dusky areolas and suckable teats. And she'd spent more than enough time in nothing but a collar to care.
