The night’s alive. Light dances to the beat of huge, pounding drums. Everywhere smells of wine, ale, vodka. The bonfire crackles as sloshed Destruction mages saunter over and throw spells into it for a laugh. Before the roaring flames, some showoff Illusionist — a blue-furred fox with tits so distractingly large they must be an illusion, too — twirls a rainbow-patterned banner on a long pole. The light shimmers in the fabric’s wake, and the longer I stare at it the more images of the Illusionist fill my head; in every one she’s naked and beckoning, and I want to crawl to her.
Illusionists.
Next to me, Mae’s stunning in her dark blue party dress. Mine’s paltry in comparison, but what wouldn’t be? She’s been glowing ever since she tamed the dragon. As she deserves to!
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I say, for the fifth time.
“Shots shots shots shots!” she replies.
I told her orcs can really put ‘em away, but she insisted on going drink-for-drink with me regardless. We’re posted up by the kegs for precisely this reason, so I can just lean over and fill both our mugs with a lazy pull. As Mae guzzles her wine, Syrene approaches us with her arm around the small of Nym’s back.
My fellow Mystic wears a black quilted doublet trimmed in silver thread, and leather pants better suited for a hunting trip than a party. Nym’s in a tight hide vest and loincloth that make her look like a barbarian off a pulp cover (magic supports a thriving publishing industry). “H-hi,” the elf squeaks.
“Oh my Gods,” Mae slurs, “you two are sooooo cute. Are you here together?”
“No.” Syrene squeezes her waist. “Ow- okay, I guess we are? She just came up and put her arm around me.” Syrene nods.
“If you wanna go, just make her think she can’t stand you.”
Nym’s golden face turns to bright red. “S-she took it.”
Syrene holds up her free hand, revealing a carved bone handle in her palm. One end’s tapered, but the other’s flat — out the flat end stretches a crackling cord of purple energy that, when the light hits it just right, I can see ends in a loop, collared around Nym’s throat.
Mae’s eyes go wide. “That can’t be allowed.”
“No,” Nym says, more to the ground than any of us. “I agreed to it…”
“Oh, of course! I actually remember that now.”
“I wonder why I did, though.”
Syrene yanks the handle down and Nym staggers forward to refill two cups, then turns and heads deeper into the trees.
“Let’s keep an eye on that,” I say to Mae, but it’s mostly so I don’t forget.
She slumps forward and trails a hand down my chest. “I’d rather keeps an eye on you.”
“I love being temporarily forgiven.”
“Maybes it’s time to shuffle on home. So you can be properly forgiven.”
“Home? Come on, I just got here,” Alyx says, pulling herself onto the barrel next to me. It’s harder to look her in the eyes than it was a few hours ago.
“Alyx!” Mae tries to spin, but on top of the wooden crate all she can do is shift to the side a few inches.
“It’s not a real party without me.” She leans in and kisses Mae full on the lips, earning a giggle from her and a clenched fist from me.
“Careful, Alyx — you’ll get Hattie jealous.”
“She doesn’t know how to share?”
I answer the challenge. “What happened to Vila?”
“She’s back in the dorm, chained to the bed. Too many bright lights and sudden noises, here; it’s no place for a pet.”
“So you’re going back to her at the end of the night?”
“Eh. If something better comes along, she can wait.” Alyx tilts Mae’s lolling head up and holds her in the same predator gaze that so paralysed Vila (and me, as Vila, I hate hate hate to admit).
You can only push an orc so far. Not without getting the blood up. I sit myself on the crate, next to Mae, and pull her into my lap. “Hehe, you are jealous,” she giggles.
“Maybe a little — mostly I just wanted you near me.”
Alyx shakes her head, chugs from her wineskin. “I don’t see why three roommates who are clearly all very attracted to each other can’t get in the same bed. But maybe I’m just more open-minded than some people. Maybe that’s me.” She throws her hands up in mock offense.
“Oh, three people,” Mae says, spilling wine on her and me. “No, much too confusing. Too much going on. It’s more a may the best woman win type situation. Not to be too forward.”
“We seem past that,” I say.
“If it were anyone else, Mae, I’d say why don’t me and Hattie go see if Nym’s not a little bit more open-minded. But we can’t possibly cut you out, and you know it — I like that.” She goes for another kiss, but I twist Mae’s chin towards me and pull her into one first. “Is this the contest?”
“Part of it.” It’s torture when Mae’s lips aren’t against mine. “I’m a dragonrider now. Anyone who wants to court me will have to put her back into it.”
“We could duel for you.”
“You could, you could.” I’m sure Mae realises as well as anyone that I’d lose, with my abilities as unreliable and uncontrolled as they are, and no offensive spells in my arsenal at all. “But why not something they can sing about? There have been so many duels…”
“The Gauntlet,” Alyx and I say at the same time. Mae’s face lights up.
“Yes, of course — The Gauntlet. Whichever one of you comes away with the most medals can be my champion.”
It’s only a few weeks away. First Years traditionally don’t compete. There are a handful of exceptions for highly talented mages, but going up against Fifth Years is a recipe for humiliation. And I’m going to have to enter as many events as possible, face countless humiliations, if I’m to have a hope of winning. Surely she can’t be serious.
Alyx grabs my distracted face and forces her cracked lips against mine. She moans into the kiss, then withdraws with a satisfied smile. “Come on, Mae — surely you’d rather see more of that now than wait until the Gauntlet?”
I’m not about to be outshined, so I grab an antler and steal a kiss from her. She grins. “See, Mae? We could be in the rooms right now doing that.”
“The two of you can do that as much as you want. But too confusing with little old me in there — I’ll just watch.”
“Honestly that’ll do it for me.”
“I want you, though,” I say, with a kiss on her neck. She shudders.
“Look, Hattie, we all want Mae. But if she thinks you’d look better bent over, I think we ought to oblige her.”
“And if she wants you bent over?”
“Hah! She’ll have to make me.”
“Okay!” Mae springs from my lap like an excited puppy. “Back to the room. Back to the rooms right now. I’m not interested in who can bluster, I gotta see who can back it up.”
We walk towards the dorms with Alyx and I flanking Mae, each off an arm, when Indel appears before us, in a light blue ankle length dress that makes me wish I’d matched with her after all. Alyx breaks off ahead with Mae, shouting “you can catch up with us! Take as long as you need, Princess!”
“I need to-” I begin, but she silences me with a talon to the lips.
“Wait, my love. My sweet Conqueror. My father did not want to grant your family the land I promised… at first. Your valiance in saving my life persuaded him, however. He remains as truculent and quarrelsome as ever, but at least he understands you deserve your reward.” Her face comes right up to my ear. “As do I.” She puts my hand on her ass and, damn it, I’m so worked up I can’t help but squeeze and hug her warmth against me.
“I saw your eyes follow her, dear; I’m not blind. But I wanted to tell you: if you come to me afterwards, I’ll lick the taste of peasant from your mouth and your lips. And you will come to me. I always get what I want.”
A sudden memory bowls through me, taking my mind from Indel and even, temporarily from Mae. It’s so powerful that it transcends from memory to vision. Did… did Nym get her powers back?
There’s a long marble countertop separating Indel from me. I wipe it down, pour her another drink; it glides like a dream, settled by her hand.
No, not Nym’s style. Too… creative. Where are we even supposed to be?
Indel watches the lounge singer, bedazzled in sequins and jewels, wispy veils across her plump breasts — Nymeria Whispwood. Her voice is rusty music against a rainy window, like a Siren of the forest. Syrene, behind her, plays the piano with quiet passion.
What’s the bet Syrene’s having fun with Nym’s powers?And she’s better with them, too.
“What I wouldn’t give to have a girl like that,” a faceless patron croons.
“A fistful of trouble but an armful of woman,” another replies.
Indel tightens her grip on her glass. “She should be ours.”
“She should be yours,” I reply, finding myself able to steer the direction of the supposed memory, “I’m not worthy of her.”
“You’re not worthy of me, darling, and all the same you have me,” she replies, which seems to surprise me, catch me off guard. Why should Indel’s feelings for me be surprising?
In any case, I’m determined to help Syrene take Indel off my hands (though why she should want to help Nym court the Princess after what happened in the forest baffles me).
“She won’t be conquered so easily,” I say. “She’ll thrash and kick. Only a seductress like you could win her.”
“Hmm… perhaps you’re right. But once I have won her, then you must come and help me… make use of her.”
“Of course, Princess,” I reply, through gritted teeth, cursing this stuck-up bitch who can’t realise Nym’s the sexiest woman in the world.
I return to the present, where Nym — down to a leaf over both tits and one over her mound — stands red-faced before us, Syrene on her arm. Gods, anyone from the party could walk over and just… see her. As I suspected, Nym is still leashed.
I look over to Indel, expecting confusion — what was that memory? When was that memory? Why is Nym naked? It appears Syrene is doing more intensive work on the Princess than myself though, because she looks completely entranced.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I whisper to Indel, “go do as you promised.”
“Yes, my love. I shall win you another prize to prove my devotion.” She turns her attention to the pair with an elegant swoop of her neck. “Might you two be interested in some royal attention?”
Nym beams. I expect Syrene to acknowledge me somehow — Gods know most people would want payment for a favour like that — but she’s locked on Nym, chittering as she does.
I ignore it and rush to the dorms.
Sprinting, I catch up to Alyx and Mae before their chariot takes off.
“Yesssss, you made it,” Mae says, stumbling forward and wrapping her arms around me. I lift her up, legs around my waist, and we make out as the petal soars through the air. “It’s- only- fair,” she sneaks out between kisses. “Alyx’s been kissing me since the Princess took you.”
It starts to feel like this is going more Alyx’s direction than Mae’s, which is second-preference to having Mae all to myself but definitely better than fucking just Alyx.
Unless she uses those vines, maybe.
We stagger through the door together like drunks after a wedding. Mae untangles from us and plops onto her bed, holding up a firm hand when we try to join her. “What’d I say, girls?”
“I mean, alright,” Alyx says, with a shrug. The next moment she’s in front of me with a conjured knife in her hand, slicing down my side, smooth and practiced. The metal bites flesh, and a trickle of blood follows the fabric to the floor — so I’m there, in just the panties Indel gave me, because Alyx got the brastrap too.
“This is what I like to see,” Mae says, reclining like a God, pouring wine down her throat.
“No, no, allow me.” Alyx stretches her hand and a vine coils from the ceiling. Its precise tip entwines the wineskin and pours for her. While she’s distracted, I wrench her around by the antler and hook my hand under the neck of her dress — it looks like armour, but it tears like paper. Nothing hides her underneath but a pair of black boxers.
“Wooooh!” Mae hoots. I bend Alyx over and hold her ass tight against my crotch, which gets Mae clapping her hands. A flowering tentacle hooks my waist like I’m bombing and sends me flying back.
“The antler’s a pretty immediate escalation, Hattie. Think you should apologise.”
“Make her!” Mae heckles, as if that’s not clearly her plan.
“Make me,” I say, for her benefit. Alyx smiles for just a moment before she forces it from her face, flicks her hand dismissively. Arms, legs, head, all bound in a moment, the vines writhing and shifting like snakes.
The soft tap tap tap of her hooves carries across the room, muffled by the fibrous rope around my ears. She bends down delicately and traces my lip with her finger. “I’ve got your number, Hattie. One day you’ll be nullifying my spells with one roll of your eyes, anticipating every attack I might make before I even think to. But right now, I’m better. And that means-” she grinds her crotch against my face, to a gasp from Mae, “well, you know what it means.”
There’s a lot to take stock of while she rubs against me. One, Mae’s moaning steadily out of view, and the sound makes me want to endure anything, so long as I get to hear it. On the other hand, she’s just slipped the boxers off and I was already taking some pretty hefty hits to my image.
The heavy slap of her cock across my cheek costs me even more. Too much. Mae wants a fight. My muscles flex; I draw upon a well of orcish strength that stretches deep below the earth. The vines tear with a meaty squelch as I force Alyx to her knees and kiss her. My hands are entwined with hers so she can’t cast — a trick I learned watching her — and without magic things are far in my advantage. The rest of my body shudders free like a ship leaving drydock. I fall on top of Alyx, winning the battle of tongues (though she insists on going down fighting).
But I make the fatal mistake of glancing over at Mae, hand beneath her dress, pretty chest rising and falling in time with her moans. How could I ever settle for Alyx when a goddess is right before me? I’m on her in a flash. Her mouth tastes like honey and butter.
“Greedy,” she chastises, giving a few seconds of attention to Alyx, who I didn’t even notice crawling up beside me. When I go for her lips again, she grabs my chin — Alyx’s too — and pushes our faces together.
Alyx tangles her hand through my hair and forces me to stay there, even though all I want is Mae, all I want in the whole world is her. But I want her to be happy, too, and it seems like we might get what Alyx wants, here. So I melt in the kiss; I moan, a little bit; I grope her small tits; she gropes my huge tits.
In my life, I’ve heard three women cum (six, if you count my visions these past few days), and as it becomes four I know I will never hear a cry as cute as Mae Maiven’s. It totally breaks Alyx’s concentration, too. We’re both drawn to her, staring.
She pants, chest heaving. “You girls sure know how to put on a show.” She claps her hands together and the rosy flush leaves her cheeks, the boozy sing-song in her voice vanishes. “But I think we all know if this keeps going on, you two’ll trick me into fucking you. And when you’ve had me, will you be so eager to please?”
“You must be joking,” Alyx says, at the same time I say,
“Mae, please.”
“Sorry girls, but I need to study. If you can’t accept that, feel free to stop courting me.”
Alyx rubs her hands together and smooths out her fur. “Okay, fine. But I’m so worked up here — one last kiss before I go feed the cat?”
Mae nods. Alyx overindulges. She pins Mae with a hand on her tits and the other on her ass, shifts her hips, grinds against her entrance. Once the shock passes I wrap an arm around the deer’s waist and pull her off.
“It’s a good thing you were here, or I’d have let her do it,” Mae says, probably just to wind Alyx up.
“Well, fuck you, Hattie,” she takes the bait, only half joking, by the sounds.
“Now then. You’re gonna help me study, Hattie?”