The Three Adventurers

Included kinks:

Futa, fantasy, size comparison, female muscle, hourglass figure, bbw, public nudity, teasing, plot chapter, intimidation, dialogue-focus, worldbuilding

All characters are entirely fictional and all above the age of 18!

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Turned out Syn just discovered a new favourite way to travel. The gentle sway in Fel's steps and that welcoming breeze almost rivalled her beloved chair, so much comfort did she find in this new, elevated position.

"Are we there yet?" the orc asked from below her.

While Syn merely smirked, Lyanne puffed and long had gotten tired of repeating the same answer.

"Still a long way to go."

"How far?"

"Still far," Lyanne sighed and looked up to Syn. "You're sure don't have anything on Yarathrond that could be of use?"

The half-elf sitting comfortably on top of Fel's massive shoulders closed her thick book and gazed down at the knight in amusement. Lyanne looked like a pack mule now that she was carrying everybody's bags as well as Fel's battle axe. Thankfully, her newly acquired muscles made even such a chore look effortless.

"If you hoped for a detailed account on how to break into an ancient elvish enclave then I'm horribly sorry to disappoint you."

"So, we don't know how to get in?" Lyanne asked.

"That's not what I said," Syn smirked, noticing the orc tensing her muscles in excitement. "I might not be as experienced with taking castles as Karstjan but I know my way around fortifications. Especially those of my own people."

"The old man conquered castles?" the orc said. "They must have been tiny castles."

"You'd do wrong to underestimate him and be surprised what stories he could tell you." Syn answered. "Many of which I still don't believe myself... and I was there for some."

"Anyway. I still say we just fight our way through," Fel said and tightened her grip around the half-elf's stocky legs. "My axe needs to taste elves again."

Syn instinctively grinded her teeth. She had expected Fel's deep-rooted lust for battle to be troublesome sooner rather than later. While nothing could possibly be further from her mind than attempting to shape Fel into something she wasn't, there was no doubt she had to find a way to tame that particular orcish urge. Just this one time.

Or to ensure Fel found no possibility to drive her axe into every elf unlucky enough to stand in her way. As much as Syn detested the thought of being indebted to these people, they didn't deserve such a grim fate. On second thought, some of them didn't.

"No matter how thirsty your axe might be, Fel, such a fortress can't be taken by raw strength alone," Syn said and ruffled the orc's thick hair. "We need to use our heads on this one."

"What good is a head when attacking a castle?" Fel grunted and leaned back until her head pushed into Syn's meaty bulge. "Use it as a battering ram?"

"I can think of a few more things you could rather use as a battering ram," Syn teased by resting her breasts on Fel's head. "Or how to make use of that big head of yours."

"Don't encourage her. She's getting hard again," Lyanne said, but didn't take her eyes off Syn's breasts. "Unless you want to make her horny as well as bored."

"That's exactly what I want," Syn thought while adding more weight with her now enormous boobs.

"But I am always horny," Fel chuckled just on cue. "Especially when you make me walk all day and night. No rest, no fap, no food."

The orc's shaft must have reached gigantic proportions again, for even Lyanne's eyes failed to stray away from it.

"Maybe you got a point," Lyanne nodded eventually. "Can't say I'm not a bit peckish either."

"It would be wise to keep marching until sunset. Once we're deep in elvish territory we can encamp." Syn said.

Lyanne and Fel didn't reply right away, instead exchanged a long stare before both turned back to the half-elf towering above them.

"We?" Fel said first. "Not all of us have to walk all day."

Syn grinned and leaned further forward, pushing the full weight of her plentiful bosom as well as her member into the gigantic orc.

"Oh? You'd rather want to see me march beside you two?" Syn said, gently thrusting her hips and eying Lyanne. "Surely, I'll be of great use on foot. Especially now that a certain someone chose to give me breasts the size of pumpkins and a behind that would make a Plow horse envious."

The knight blushed but took in those mentioned extra pounds with evident pride while Fel enjoyed the half-elf grinding into her.

"No objections? Good." Syn asked rhetorically after assuring both her companions were fully erect. "Glad we can agree that the current situation is to everyone's benefit."

Lyanne couldn't help herself but lighten up once she was done rolling her eyes.

"Fine. You can stay up there. With your fat ass and tits," Fel said, enticed by all the softness and growing hardness pushing into her.

Looked like teasing had become more of a two-edged sword than it used to be.

For all that talk about her sizeable curves and seeing both her comrades grow aroused only added to the thrilling sensation Syn's new body brought her. Not enough that her now staggering bust had gotten many times more sensitive with size, but the way her bosom spilled out was a sight to behold.

"Fat ass? Don't pretend you don-"

The trio suddenly stopped and listened.

The sound of animals jumping through the thicket or birds nesting would hardly have been noticed by orcish and human ears a like, Syn thought.

"Did you also hear this?" Lyanne asked.

"We all did," Syn said, staring in the same direction with intensity as she sharpened her senses. "We're being followed."

"Elves?" Lyanne asked, readying herself for battle.

"Hardly. Otherwise, we'd be greeted by the whistle of arrows," Syn replied.

"Hopefully they are this stupid," Fel said, her arm extended for her battle axe. "Please spirits, just give me some elves."

"No elf makes this much noise," Syn said, wondering how this much commotion made it past her ears in the first place.

The last few days taught the trio to expect the unexpected. The supernatural even, but neither of the three believed their eyes once they saw what came into view.

A wagon broke through the thicket, packed to the brim with crates and amphoras sloshing with liquid inside. And the human leading that humongous horse, too strong and fierce looking for merely pulling a wagon, waved at the group with a wide smile.

"Is that a trader? Alone?" Lyanne asked in utter disbelief. "Out here? Does he have a Deathwish?!"

"It seems that way," Syn said. "Or he has reason to be here."

Syn observed the man closely. The face of his befitted a merchant, especially the rich kind that preferred to wear their dublets gilded. The kind that usually never travelled without hired guards.

"Let the gods be praised, finally some welcoming faces," the man said in an immensely lyrical accent Syn didn't recognise. "What brings you here, friends?"

"We could ask the same," the half-elf said on top of Fel. "Are you aware you're standing on elvish soil?"

The man looked over both sides of his wagon like he just discovered grass for the first time and smiled again.

"Then I'm even more glad I crossed your path before someone else's," he said and took his pointy hat off before bowing. "Saandras tel Diiribran Evaldir er Kannaroc, happy to make your acquaintance."

"Is that your name?" Lyanne asked frowning.

"The one and only which was given to me by parents and my guild," he replied with extravagant gestures once he let go of his leash.

"What do you need so many names for?" Fel asked curiously. "Do you collect them?"

"To remember where I come from and where I belong to," he said and bowed once more, despite having to crane his neck to meet Syn's gaze. "But I can also go simply by the name of 'Saandras', if that's more pleasant to pointy ears."

"Now that I can remember," Fel agreed.

He laughed, so heartily in fact his dark curls shook with the rest of his smallish frame.

No human should feel that at ease around such company.

Meeting a trio of futas in the wilderness at random would easily scare any ordinary man away. Let alone a group of futas of such staggering heights and spearheaded by a 9-foot tall, naked and raging hard, orc warrior. Nobody in their right mind would ever approach such a group in the manner he did. Which made him either the bravest or most foolish merchant Syn ever encountered. And she always considered that profession in particular less prone to sudden acts of bravery and completely void of fools.

"You didn't answer my question, Saandras," Syn said, catching his gaze and refusing to let go. "What brings you here?"

"My travels of course," Saandras said and turned around slapping those big crates. "The bridge near Riddershang collapsed and I kept following some trampled paths until I sadly lost all sense of direction. But thankfully I met you."

Syn knew this was hardly the truth. Even if the bridge collapsed there were still half a dozen ways to cross the Durstrom, even with his wagon.

"What makes you think you should be thankful for meeting us?" Syn asked, her arms crossed. "We could be robbers or much worse."

"Intuition. In my trade that's a trait well-refined," Saandras said, refusing to stop grinning until his olive skin wrinkled under his eyes. "But I don't expect you to simply help me simply out of the kindness of your heart."

"What do you want?" Lyanne asked.

"Directions and some company is all I could possibly desire," he said again gesturing more lively than any local ever would. "Let me tell you, dining alone under the sky might sound romantic but gets horribly dull after some time."

"Why should we put up with you?" Syn asked directly, by now certain she didn't like his constant smile.

"Excellent question," he said, stroking his overly groomed black beard before smirking. "You strike me as the sort of woman who really enjoys bargaining. A woman to my liking."

"Answer the question," Syn repeated, this time in tone that demanded an answer.

Saandras nodded and got up before turning around and bending over his goods.

"There is for once the promise, no, the guarantee of the finest company in these lands," he said but kept searching once he earned no reply. "I see, you're not easily swayed by promises. Maybe something more materialistic might change your minds."

After a few moments of rattling and cramming through his crates he found what he looked for. He sprung back like a bowstring and held up rows of hung sausage and curved horns like trophies.

"Sausages from Vinderfelt with Goldfurt's finest ale fresh from the tap. In my humble opinion best accompanied with a set of hand-drawn cards straight out of Old Harbour's gambling halls. Or perhaps even a few drops of dwarvish delight for the most sophisticated of palates?" he roared like he was selling his wares to a massive audience in one of the great market districts. "Don't tell me this doesn't make for an intriguing proposition."

Syn wasn't one to be impressed by the colourful antics of an admittedly accomplished salesman, but Fel's and Lyanne's combined, aggressive stomach growls proved his proposition was indeed a convincing one.

Fel and Lyanne kept munching away like they've gone weeks without food, but Syn silently watched Saandras' every move. She had enough encounters with the travelling folk to know he was an odd companion. Musicians, ordinary con artists, even the occasional charlatan promising to speak to one of the many gods, those were the sort of people who'd revel at the chance to gather around some stranger's fire. No merchant Syn ever encountered found any joy in that. Let alone one who was that insistent on sharing stories of his journeys.

"No way! You saw the desert?" Fel asked, wide-eyed, half a sausage still stuck on her tusk. "I never met any human south of the big rocks."

"Very few do travel this far. For good reason," he said, sipping on his horn. "Yet it's impossible not to appreciate the desert's allure. Dangerous? Yes, but an experience I would never want to miss. And the spices? Oh, they were worth all the hardship."

"Ooohh the red, pointy ones... they are sooo good. Much better than everything here," Fel said, tapping on Lyanne with way too much enthusiasm. "I will have to get you some one day."

"Maybe one day," Lyanne said, barely holding onto her horn before everything had spilled over due to the greenskin.

"Then you must have met orcs? Which tribe?" Fel asked, glued to the comparatively miniscule man.

"Sadly, I haven't. Truthfully, I'm not convinced I'd sit here if I did," he grinned and filled Fel's horn once again. Easily the fifth time in just as many minutes. "My companions must have, for some never returned to our camp. For me, I had to make do with stories about your kin. But I must say, my dear Fel, I never heard about any orc being as gargantuan and imposing as you."

Fel frowned and looked around in confusion.

"Garg- What does that mean?" she asked Lyanne.

"He says you're huge," the islander explained.

"Fuck yeah, I am!" Fel roared, brimming with childlike joy. "I love being gargantan! Especially down here."

The orc spread her legs and let her hefty member smack onto the log she was sitting on with a loud thump. Not that Fel needed a reason to reveal her virile pride to anyone, but she must have looked for that sort of reaction.

"Oh... my," Saandras muttered.

"She just does that from time to time," Lyanne stated and rolled her eyes. "But eventually you get used to it."

"Hehe," Fel snickered and bit her lip seductively.

"To think I used to sell potions to those desperate to ever wield a third of your size, Fel," Saandras said, flustered. "Or to even get their manhood to stand up."

"Do humans struggle to even get hard? With their tiny, little worms?" Fel asked, her veins thickening as to make a point.

"Not all humans," Lyanne interjected with a cheeky smirk, making Fel roar with laughter again.

"It's actually quite the common issue," Saandras stated and looked over to Lyanne chuckling.

"Where I'm from men used to chew on eels for that," the knight said.

Saandras direct his attention to Lyanne who had warmed up faster to him than Syn expected.

"Then I'm thankful our alchemists had come up with a much more sophisticated way to solve that peculiar problem." Saandras said. "But that's exactly the sort of ingenuity I expected from the renown people of Igland."

"Renown? Clearly you have never been there," Lyanne said.

"Indeed, I wasn't, but I heard tales about the natural beauty of that place. And of its people," he winked. "It gladdens me to see that they were not exaggerated in the slightest."

It didn't surprise Syn to see a girly blush grow on Lyanne's face. She might be a towering eight feet of anointed knighthood, but under all those muscles lingered a delicate lady, easily susceptible to flattery of all sorts. Of course, Saandras realised that right away.

"Besides, for a man who dares to claim himself used to the waves, I can't pass on an opportunity to see the real might of the ocean," he said eying Lyanne. "Although I doubt my home will be any comparison to yours."

Syn frowned. In his flattery he might have revealed a bit too much about himself. He didn't mention his hometown by name, but Alchemists? An Island and a guild? There was only one place she could think of.

"Are you an islander like Lyanne?" the orc asked, her now half-erect member still on full display.

"Technically, yes. But I'd never be so presumptuous to compare my speck of land floating a few hundred feet off the shore to an archipelago in the middle of the ocean."

Fel blinked repeatedly and then whispered to Lyanne.

"He is just making up words now."

"Archipelago means a group of islands," Lyanne, enjoying her role as translator, explained. "You can just say 'lots of islands'. That's easier."

"There is more than one island where you are from?" Fel asked wide-eyed.

"Fel. There are more than a hundred."

The orc looked stunned and clearly struggled to find the imagination to envision such a place. Like anyone growing up in a desert would.

Fel's enthusiasm and willingness to learn was always admirable and adorable to see, but Syn latched on to the merchant's words instead and chose to confront him. To see his reaction.

"You are from the trading guild of Tavieel," Syn cut into the moment without warning.

Saandras slowly turned to her and tried his hardest to not look startled, but his eyes gave him away.

"Consider me impressed. I didn't expect someone to recognise that name in these lands," he said in a sweet tone and forced a smile that for once didn't come natural to him. "You must be a well-travelled woman. I wonder where that journey began."

"At a place I rather keep to myself," Syn replied drily. "I'm sure you can relate."

His bright eyes for once didn't glimmer with that overbearingly joyful persona. He was livid about that remark but swallowed his anger with another smile.

"I might, although I want to clarify that I got nothing to hide," he said taking another sip from his horn, but this time without any grace. "I simply prefer not to grant fire to some rumours that might be burning in the imagination of those... unfamiliar with us."

"Understandably."

Syn nodded, but both knew that any bridge he was desperate to build had just burnt down.

She recalled a few occasions of hearing about that esteemed and equally feared mercantile guild. Tales about their illusive influence reaching far into every corner of the continent. Many said even the realms of orcs and elves were not beyond them.

Their riches were the stuff of legends, but so were their ways of acquiring such wealth. They firstly gathered notoriety through the work of their alchemists, who sold their wares to every suiter willing to pay their price. It mattered little for what purpose or to what goal. Rumours have it even the Brotherhood of Daggers resorted to using the smuggled poisons from Tavieel for centuries.

Of course, nowadays such a dubious reputation was better avoided. But seeing a merchant of Saandras' format, travelling on his own in such dangerous lands was by no means a coincidence. There was enough reason for him not to bring hired soldiers for his travels, if he sought to avoid bringing too many prying eyes.

Ones that could tell the tale of what wares he smuggled... and who he smuggled them to.

But all that went right above Lyanne's and Fel's heads.

Saandras wriggled himself out of the tense waters he found himself in with a few more filled horns and well-placed jokes, but Syn didn't let him out of her sight. She now saw through his constant charming with clarity. Only the reason why he approached them alluded her still.

"I must say I have rarely seen such a fine display of...," he eventually paused and almost burped. "...carousing."

Naturally that didn't include Syn who had yet to ask for a second horn even when the barrel was close to being empty.

"Lyanne..." the orc leaned over to the islander.

"That means drinking. Lots of drinking," she explained.

"Oh. I thought he said 'Arousing'," Fel grinned. "Could not tell if he was getting horny."

"I'm afraid... I'm no longer capable of that," he replied.

Saandras got up and immediately stumbled over before Lyanne caught him with one arm.

"Looks like someone had enough," she said and left him on more solid footing.

"After that bit of grape juice?" Fel laughed, finishing her horn with complete ease.

"Not everyone is blessed with your stamina, dear Fel. Nor your size," the merchant bowed, almost tipping over again. "I'm afraid my drinking days are already behind me. This day for sure is."