Saintess of Sluts

= REIKA

I woke up in a bed. It was a far cry from the glade I expected. It didn't even feel like my bed either, being both too large and too quiet. Where was the litany of siblings making a racket?

When I finally finished draining Mistress Amy of her copious reserves of semen, the first light of an approaching dawn crept over the horizon. I simply passed out in exhaustion, not even caring where I fell. That begged the question of how I got here. Did Mistress transport me? Her father? I supposed I would find out eventually.

My mind went towards the instinctive connection between Mistress and I. At its currently weak inception it seemed to only point towards her and leaked strong emotions across the bond. The spectral proof of her ownership made my spine tingle. She had owned me even before the Naming. Her panic was for naught. I really needed to explain everything to her.

It tugged my heartstrings to see her crying while I brought her orgasm after orgasm. Just the first taste of her semen left me addicted beyond redemption. I knew I had to be hers. Forever. My Name just seemed the perfect way to declare it to the world. I remembered Goddess Sela agreeing with me wholeheartedly.

It also hurt to not obey her order to stop. But I couldn't, even if I wanted to. Implanted desires demanded I not cease until she had been completely sexually sated. I expected two, maybe three orgasms tops. But my Mistress was no lesser being. No, she came and came and

came

. Over and over she jetted her spend into me, making my womb rejoice in rapture.

Not to mention the way she ticked off every checkbox on my kink list so perfectly. I'd always been embarrassed about being such a basic bun. We already had a reputation for large families and my sexual desires only reinforced the stereotype. When she filled me to a capacity I thought not possible I knew how lucky my life had become.

Even now, wedged up against the wall, my bloated midsection stretched far across the bed, making significant headway to the far edge. The awkward position wasn't the most comfortable. It sufficed as a midway between sleeping on my back, which would severely hinder my breathing given the huge weight of my cum belly, and on my side which wasn't entirely possible given just how wide I had become. Even before gaining this wonderfully full womb sleeping on my side wasn't comfortable since my hip and shoulder width differed too much. By being shoved into the corner it prevented me from rolling onto my back and experiencing complications while sleeping.

The warmth of my Mistress's cum soothed over my worries and suffused me with a gentle passive pleasure. To be used as her cum slut was my calling, after all.

Both my Mistress's cum and my Goddess-granted Name whispered arcane secrets to me. They told me of the pure potential latent within her copious load. The load that resided within me. Part of me wanted to be greedy, wanted to wish that I really had been filled to such a degree with my Mistress's offspring. To put my mother's fertility to shame had been a dream of mine ever since I developed my pregnancy kink. But it wasn't the right season and I wasn't in heat or fertile at the moment. Regardless of those facts the power in her cum could make it true, could let her magnificent seed breed me right now.

My Mistress's final order stopped such a whim. I had to be safe. Carelessly bringing children into being without due consideration and planning certainly didn't strike me as safe. That left the question of what to do with its volume. I was loath to see it go, but being an immobile cum receptacle wasn't safe either.

The ridiculous capacity for change her cum could enact strained my imagination. I had to be subtle with my changes. Bringing attention to myself when so many were left unenlightened of my Mistress's capabilities would be dangerous. Only myself and Goddess Sela were likely aware. Mistress herself seemed out of the loop, given her panic.

I couldn't just expel the cum either. That came across as blasphemy of the highest order. No, I had to make small changes and act like the innocent young bun I had been before my Mistress rocked my world.

Under the cover of the blanket we once sat upon in the glade, I laid my hands upon my belly and exerted my willpower inward, demanding the cum so rightfully in my Name's domain to obey me. It eagerly acquiesced to my channeling. My belly heated up as the semen literally worked its magic.

The sorcery remade me. My unfocused fleeting thoughts powered the changes. Remembering my inability to see my all of Mistress's beauty in the night's darkness resulted in soothing waves of pleasure caressing my eyes. They felt lighter than ever, like I had lived with heavy bags borne of exhaustion my whole life and finally cured them.

A prickling frission of goosebumps erupted across my skin when memories of all the nicks and cuts I received when following Mistress through the underbrush came to fore. Thousands of invisible magic hands caressed every inch of me. An irritating itch built up all across my body. A simple rub had old skin coming off in sheets like a shedding snake. In the wake of my hands' passage I looked born anew. Any flaws simply vanished. Even all the tiny scars on my fingers from nicking myself with knives in the kitchen disappeared.

Recalling the struggle to move the new barrel of flour into the kitchen to make tarts for Mistress poured pure strength into my body. The demanding transformation taxed my semen stores heavily. My belly rapidly shrunk. My hips raised further off the bed. Not because I thrust up but because my butt swelled with new muscle.

As good as bulking up felt I had to focus. Looking like I doubled my strength overnight would be obvious and suspicious. Not safe. My completely revitalized skin already toed the line. My mind's eye pictured strength without size, density with flexibility. The magic caved to my impossible demands and accelerated the rate I lost my precious belly full of cum.

My legs greedily drank of the transformative magic. The invisible hands returned. This time they performed a deep tissue massage. At first a gentle burn, like the aftermath of a long day of moving barrels, spread. Then a relaxing stretch soothed the abused muscles. A completed cycle left me energized.

The rest of my muscles soon experienced the same ecstasy when the sensation spread. Every pulsing cycle built more mass, more strength, yet to the naked eye I appeared no different save for my rapidly vanishing belly. Soon my enhanced musculature strained the limits of my connective tissue. I revised the picture driving the process. Ligaments, tendons, and even my bones joined in on the pulsing rhythm of renewal.

Every pulse I flexed my butt, driving my hips up into the imaginary Mistress I wished were here. Because when I meant every muscle, I meant every muscle. My pussy throbbed with ever more power, a promise of the pleasures to come when I gripped my Mistress's fat cock.

My breathing was heavy now. My pussy leaked copiously upon the bed, primed for another filling. I summoned just enough willpower to keep a small reserve in my womb, both for personal comfort and in case of some unforeseen emergency. It didn't even bloat my stomach out. No, now a set of washboard abs ran down my torso without a single stretch mark. Just a tight core brimming with strength. My fingers traced along their contours, enjoying my sensitive skin.

I missed my belly already. I hoped Mistress found my improved body irresistible. A good cum slut always sparked her Mistress's desire, after all.

To be back by my Mistress's side would, in my mind, fully satisfy her order for safety. I focused on our connection yet again. It constantly bled worry from my Mistress. Worry that I hoped I could soothe. It gave a direction. Somewhere off into the woods.

Is she back to work already?

"What are you?"

Oh, shit

. I snapped out of my mental probing to find a thorned length of wood primed to stab me in the eye. It literally grew from Mistress's mother's arm, her fingers had merged together and elongated into a brown-barked spear.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I didn't know she could do that. How much did she see?

I shrunk under my blanket covering. My state of complete nudity, save for my top, caused modesty to rear its indignant head.

My body is for my Mistress's eyes only! Only she can decide to share or show me off!

Unfortunately anger didn't fit the story of before-awakening Rieka. No, she would have been afraid. I covered myself as best as I could and put forth my best acting skills. "I-I'm Rieka, ma'am. Amy's f-f-friend."

Speaking my Mistress's name without her proper title burned my sensibilities. Calling a lowly cum slut like myself my Mistress's friend also hurt. Only the need for safety spared me from a completely negative feedback spike due to going against my Name.

She glowered. "I didn't ask

who

. I asked

what

."

"Bunnykin?"

"That so? Well, I've never seen a

bunnykin

do

that

before."

Urg. How frustrating. She didn't reveal what she saw. I was under the covers the whole time.

"I drained myself."

The weapon suddenly extended closer, nearly hitting my eyelashes if I were to blink. Not that I was going to. My eyes were wide with panic.

"Lie again and your brain is scrambled. You were nearly as big as Ned's prized hog. Last chance. What did you do?"

Tears expressing my genuine fear of never seeing my Mistress again welled up.

Mistress's mother is too smart. If I could only close the gap I might manage to subdue her. But she kept her distance with a lengthy weapon. I can't think of a way out.

I decided to go for broke. "I u-used it to be safe. Mistress Amy told me to."

The scowl before me softened at my blubbering words. She hadn't moved the weapon though. "Mistress?"

I sniffed my running nose. "Yes, I'm Mistress Amy's. I'm her cum slut."

"Hoh? And how many times did she cum in you until you realized?"

"Once. Once and I Named myself hers."

She grinned, showing off a deadly maw full of serrated teeth. The weapon shrank away, morphing back into a more normal-looking humanoid hand though still capped by sharp brown bark-like claws. She cupped her chin pensively. "To think my girl would be so powerful already. One night and she comes back with a thrall. A Named one, too. Hargeshi blood lives up to its reputation. Did she Name herself?"

I relaxed a little now that it didn't look like I was moments away from getting brained through the eye. The teeth still unnerved me, though. I

really

wanted to get back to my Mistress. Her mother terrified me. "No. Not that I heard."

"Good. Good. I was afraid my husband convinced her to Name huntress. That's far too small for her potential now that I've seen proof of her potency. You'll help me with that, right? My little girl, your Mistress, deserves the best."

On that point this intimidating woman and I agreed. I desired to be Mistress Amy's best cum slut. And the best cum sluts certainly cultivated the most potential in their Mistress. My imagination ran wild thinking of the Names she could take. How each and every one of them would enhance her already wonderful attributes. How she would stuff ever greater volumes of cum inside me. I clenched my thighs together, attempting to take the edge off from being so sadly empty. "Yes, of course."

"Excellent. Come with me." She turned to leave the room.

I hesitated on the bed. A burning question needed to be asked. I risked her ire. "Who are you, really?"

Over the shoulder she showed off that terrifying set of teeth again. "Me? I'm just an ordinary house wife." She continued out the door of Amy's bedroom. At the precipice she casually added without facing me, "Though some know me as the Barbed Witch of Tathinel. Don't keep me waiting, dear."

I contemplated jumping out the window and running. The fact that I'd grown up completely ignorant to a legend residing in my tiny village blew my mind. Storied history didn't exactly paint her in the best light. Though I suppose victims hardly forgave their aggressors. If even a modicum of truth resided in those hallowed tales then I didn't stand a chance. I'd be dead before I left their homestead. I suspected I only lived because our interests aligned.

I truly felt like prey cornered in a lion's den. I'm not proud to admit I shook like a leaf while donning my clothing. Someone had been kind enough to leave it folded neatly on the nightstand. Even with my newly improved body I knew I was a mere gnat by comparison. Maybe one day I could stand up to Mistress's mother but not today. While I untangled my hair and shook out all the gross dead skin from it I took deep calming breaths. Mistress's mother awaited.

Be brave. Be brave for Mistress.

= REIKA

The ground thumped every time I landed from one of my bounding hops. My newly enhanced body made travel in the forest a simple affair. Thorns and twigs stood no chance against my skin. Not a single puncture or scrape marred my legs' muscled mass. Just pristine smooth beauty shifted over the strong muscles underneath.

Speaking of muscles, it felt great to let loose, to test their newly heightened limits. At first I started with a more normal pace, warming them up for what was to come. Then I pitched forward in the bun equivalent of a sprint. A sprint with my old muscles, anyway. Now I pushed myself to the edge. Trees and foliage blurred by, wind whipping in my face and forcing my ears to shift back to trail behind, as I careened forward at a truly impressive pace. My legs exploded with power on every two-legged hop. If someone saw me they might think I'd taken courier as a Name.

But I am no courier. No, I am a cum slut on a mission to return to my Mistress's side.

My mood soared. Every hop meant being closer to Mistress and further from her mother. I couldn't get far enough away from that woman. Even if she did provide me with the supplies I carried.

What I brought with me hindered my movement somewhat. I had to dedicate one hand to preventing my backpack from jostling around too much and the other to holding the hem of my dress so it wouldn't get snagged on the low laying foliage or flip up into my face.

One benefit of having exposed panties while running was air-drying my nethers. Regardless of my current physical exertion I still got excited about reuniting with my Mistress. Half my thoughts were dedicated to thinking of ways to pleasure her. The other half tried in vain to keep going over the plan Mistress's mother had wrought. Those thoughts were a bit too distracted by the first half.

For the most part I planned on winging it. Some tools Mistress's mother provided (and were hopefully not being destroyed by my overeager pace) would certainly help some of my goals. The trickiest of which were getting my Mistress to accept my Name and to choose a Name more suited to her natural gifts.

My compass in the form of our bond started requiring more course corrections. Along with the occasional whiff of her scent on the air meant I was close. I slowed to a plausible pre-transformation pace. I still needed to catch up, but I couldn't risk being seen as a superbun. Not yet. Part of the plan was easing her into her destiny. That meant a bit of deception. I didn't like lying to her and I'm sure I was in for some negative kickback from doing so, but what else was I supposed to do. She literally ran away.

"Halt!" my Mistress command with unbreakable authority.

My body seized up, nearly making me fall. My feet dug into the ground, slipping on the dew-coated grass and loose leaves but eventually brought me to a stop. Mistress charged around the tree she hunkered behind. Swift and intimidating came as appropriate words when a spear found itself in my face.

It seemed putting pointy objects in others' faces ran in the family. Thankfully this one didn't dance nearly as close and was withdrawn almost immediately.

"Rieka?" My Mistress's eyes were wide as if she saw a ghost.

It pained me to see her bloodshot puffy eyes. She'd obviously been crying not too long ago. I still couldn't move to comfort her. Her order made me halt. At least she spoke to me. Speechlessness would've been a problem.

A good cum slut only speaks when spoken to.

I flashed a brilliant disarming smile. "That's me!"

A litany of questions flowed from Mistress's mouth. No pauses came between them while she rattled them off. "What are you doing here? How did you get here? What happened to you?"

"Hey, hey. Calm down. Do you want a hug?" She seemed to be struggling with the fact I was real and in front of her. Touch would go a long way to convince her, certainly far more than words.

Her eyes welled up on the verge of tears again. "Yes," she breathed out, the pain evident in her cracking voice.

A single hop and I tackled her. I held back, but Mistress's solid body took my weight with ease. Unfortunately her armor prevented the true closeness I craved. I missed feeling the muscles she touted. I repressed a whine and pulled her close, luxuriating in her presence.

My Mistress.

She smelled of sweat and grass and lavender. The mix of masculine and feminine odor tantalized my senses.

I never want to leave her side again.

I dreamed of a life of always being in her arms.

She returned my enthusiasm with a squeeze of her own. Her larger body ensconced me in comfort. One strong arm smushed me closer and the other clamped down on the back of my head. She forced my face into her chest armor. If I hadn't been juicy and ready to take her already I certainly became that way. Her endowment, though flaccid, pressed up against my stomach. It made my insides flutter in excitement. My womb literally growled its desire due to being so close in proximity to what it lived to please.

The sound of her laughter brought me pleasure. The constant worry bleeding across our bond turned down to a simmer. Instead joy flooded my soul.

Yes. This is what I want. To bring my Mistress happiness.

Regardless of the mood we cultivated together my womb undercut our reunion with continued rumbling.

"Hungry?" she asked, a teasing lilt to her words.

As much as I didn't want to, I broke away, leaving only one hand caressing her forearm. I admired the built muscles. I knew I had to keep nurturing the idea of physical intimacy. Mistress needed to know the comfort of my touch. I didn't ever want a repeat of last night where she bawled beneath me. But I had been rumbling far longer than any stomach had the right to. Sure, the strangeness added levity to an otherwise too-intense reunion but there came a point where humor lead to incredulity. And incredulity invited questions. Questions I wanted to avoid being asked. Already the build-up from not instantly obeying her rapid-fire interrogation began to manifest as a small headache.

"Yes. I skipped breakfast and--" I looked to the sunny sky peeking through the dense leafy canopy above. Despite my observations I still had no idea what time it was, "--lunch? I had to catch up quickly. I still can't believe you left for Bern without me.

I'm

the one who wanted to become an alchemist. I thought we'd go together."

She looked confused. "But how? How are you here? After last night I--"

"I've got legs. I used 'em. Comfy bed, by the way, but couldn't you have waited for me to wake up? I thought we were friends." I wanted to smile, to disarm her with nonchalance. Instead I held back a grimace from the pain of interrupting her and all the presumptuous language I used.

"Sure, but, uh--"

"Really? We're friends?" The pain doubled down, searing me from the inside for my insolence of going against my Name. She needed to say it, to use that word, to allow a more lenient relationship than mistress and slut. My limits drew nearer while my willpower waned.