A/N: My muse is fickle...
Content:
female protagonist, nonhuman, creampie, breeding, cheating, religion, fantasy
Chapter 1
No one ever understood how practical elves are. Their attitudes towards bastards explained everything. There was never any punishment. The son who sowed his oats or the daughter who let her field grow never feared shame nor disownment nor poor marriage prospects - they never received anything but happiness. In any other species, this would be a disaster. In any other species, low population could easily be overcome. The humans, the orcs, the dwarves - they could breed endlessly if they were promised food enough for all. The elves had a low libido and a lower fertility. Other species insisted on chaperones when their unmarried members gathered. Elves never had anything to fear. Even their bathhouses were mixed without care.
It was common knowledge that the elves' longevity was balanced by this low libido and fertility. It was common knowledge among every species that there existed an elf better than you at everything. An athletic human male hit his prime in his mid-twenties. An athletic elf - their men and women were of the same strength - an athletic elf hit their prime in their mid-twenties and never left it for millenia.
Camilla was one such elf, the youngest in her village. 25 years old, she had a body any other elf woman would have wasted: she had flowing, red hair; pale skin that never gained a tan; blue eyes that never filled with anger; medium-sized breasts that would never sag til old age; a toned-ass with wide hips; and a knowing smile. Her elegance was at odds with her lust. Camilla, unlike every other elf, had the libido of a human woman. She, unlike any elf before her, possessed a human woman's fertility. The ripeness of her womb would be misunderstood for a while. The frequent heat between her legs would draw whispers, after the hunt.
She chased a giant spider in the shadow of the woods.
Camilla's four-elf squad of Rangers followed behind. The captain let her lead. His bearded, harsh face had bent under her many requests, a feat equivalent to downing a dragon with a hundred punches. His footsteps were silent as she shepherded the giant spider according to her plan - he and the others only made noise to usher the spider on a certain angle. She would corner it at the nearby river. An elf could swim across it. A monster like this would drown. It would be pushed in.
The nearby tribe of humans depended on their success. Failure meant more hunters caught in invisible, bronze-like webs - caught and eaten. Failure meant Camilla would have to eat her pride. She felt insecure - so much of Elven mores and identity were defined by their low libido. Her libido was strong. She wondered, what was the cost? What had she exchanged? The elven height of skill? She had to know.
The self-doubt may have been foolish. Her plan, however, was wise. The crystal-clear river showed rocks a dozen feet deep at this crossing. During the spring, the river teamed with fish migrating to their nesting spots. In the summer, the last stragglers swam, and only for a short while, prey to every bird with a taste for seafood. Today, a giant spider was pushed in with four sharp Elven spears. The monster's eight limbs floundered. It struggled; it sank.
The corpse drifted in the current. The humans would see the body float by.
The captain patted her shoulder. "Well done, Camilla. You've led your first hunt, and you've led it to success."
"Thank you, Captain Brutus. I succeeded due to your lessons. Besides, the monster was nothing special." Now the hunt was over, Camilla felt foolish for staking her identity on the giant spider of everything. Yes, it would be a clear sign if she failed. Success, however, meant she was average. She wanted to be skilled.
Brutus had a glint in his eyes. "Nonetheless, success is to be celebrated. The humans are safe and grateful. They will be in a fine mood. There shall be songs and dances. Food shall be below our standards, but meat is meat. I've brought wine - the lesser races always love wine. We should share the fermentation process with them one day, yeah? Hah. Perhaps that would be unwise - they always seem ready to mate after a few drinks. You would know that well, eh?"
Camilla giggled at Brutus's wiggling eyebrows. She had lost her virginity last season, after her first monster hunt. Her parents were pleased her libido existed, unlike some elves. "I've told you before, the human drank after our mating. He believed it would replenish his seed. A foolish hope. He drank himself to sleep."
"So you say, so you say. And I say you're a liar. I say you pretended to mate. Prove me wrong. Find a man tonight."
"Perhaps I will." Camilla smiled at Brutus' shocked look. She knew he had been joking. No one expected an elf to mate again so quickly.
"That's...that's good. Wow. You must really like monster hunts, yeah? ...Please don't get pregnant. I'll never hear the end of it if you make a baby before I do."
"No promises, Captain. You should mate with a human woman. I'm sure a pretty one will be grateful." She laughed at Brutus' quick shake of the head. His libido was normal for an elf. His parents would love a grandchild after waiting 300 years. His previous matings had resulted in no children.
Camilla, Brutus, and the other two elves walked to the human tribe in good cheer.
It was mid-day when the preparations began for the party. The tribe pulled out everything to celebrate their heroes. The village-chief, an old, tanned man, swore oaths of friendships. Camilla smiled and spoke to the human women who gathered around her, mothers and maidens, her leathers catching their eyes as their tribal clothes caught hers. There was a difference in the craftsmanship: there was a feeling of elegance from her that the other women sought.
She captivated them like the sun. It was her elven sophistication; it was her cleanliness despite the hunt, her unblemished skin despite the forest, her pleasant smell despite the exercise. It hid her thoughts, her impatience and anticipation. Her outside purity hid her inner filth. She wanted to mate. She had wanted to mate again mere weeks after her first time. It ate inside her like a fever. None of her meditations could quench it for very long. Even masturbation fueled her desire for a real cock, and no elf ever had to masturbate. And now, with the time close at hand, she was nervous yet excited. The longing's strength surprised her.
It was stronger here, like a starving man's need for food redoubling after seeing a feast. The quality mattered less than its accessibility and quantity. The elven men back in the village rarely wished to mate. The human tribal men were handsome, though many were married. So be it. If Camilla's best option was a married man, she would take it. She had earned that much. For some reason, she even believed it would feel better.
At the feast, finally ready and laden with meat, she bit her lip at the village chief's oldest son. She sat next to him on a log. The man was tanned, tall, and strong. He had four kids and a wife, and he would be hers tonight. The certainty of that thought had her wet. She twirled her red hair when he spoke. She laughed at his jokes. She met his dark eyes with a confidence that startled him. When his wife looked concerned, Camilla gave a knowing smile. The wife turned angry; the wife compared the two of them. A flirty, beautiful, clean elf against a tired, once-pretty human with a speck of dirt in her ears. The wife's eyes begged her.
"It's only a single night," Camilla said to her, voice quiet, elegant, and certain. "You already have him every other day. What's the harm in sharing with your saviors? Your husband has a choice. He can refuse. Will he?"
Alex, the village chief's oldest son, pleaded with his wife through his dark eyes. His actions gave Camilla a thrill. It almost felt like masturbation, this drama over her.
When the night fell, Camilla dragged Alex into her tent. Her fellow elves looked amused. His wife looked resigned, her hands tightly gripping a horn of wine. His friends whooped.
Alex stripped off his tribal clothes in a hurry. His pecs and abs were well-defined, visible even in the darkness. His body bathed in shadows from the firelight outside. The size of his cock was a mystery in the dark, its outline promising, inspiring an eagerness to discover and inspect.
Camilla stripped off her own clothes, feeling like a goddess. She smiled knowingly at his ogling eyes. She walked forwards, swaying her hips, hiding her arms behind her back, exposing herself. Her medium-sized breasts, her trimmed flower, her near-invisible wet streak, her eager smile - she bared it all. Her anticipation shook her body. She felt like she had clipped a dragon's wings and its execution was at hand. She needed his cock, his seed.
"Am I prettier than your wife?" Camilla asked teasingly, running a hand across his defined beard. She pressed her breasts into his chest, relishing the feel of his cock pressing into her belly. She heard him gulp.
"Yes. Gods forgive me, yes. I cannot lie."
"I love an honest man." Her fingers trailed down, strumming his chest, before curling around his cock. Her thumb rubbed his tip. "I'll be honest as well. Try to quicken my womb. I'd love it. I'd love getting bred by you. My people would love it, too. You know, there's no half-breeds? Every mixed child is the species of one of its parents. How about it? You're a virile human man. You have four children. You should be able to plant your seed even in an elf's barren fields. My fields. Let's see who's blood is stronger: mine or yours? Do you think I'll carry an elf bastard or a human bastard?"
He groaned. He got her giggling when he pushed her to the ground on all knees. He wanted to mount her like a dog.
"Lick my flower first, you eager brute. Savor it. Savor the taste, before you spill your seed inside it."
