Chapter 19 - Schemes and Plans

“Do you know of any elven poems?” Grace didn’t know any either but asked her escort since he had traveled with her grandmother. There was all manner of things that she didn’t know of beyond the town’s limits, plus it didn’t hurt to learn more of her new friend. He was slightly embarrassed, “no I haven’t, as my companion doesn’t speak much in her mother tongue.” It was a fair question, as traveling elves often did hum or even sing of historical events in the form of folk songs. While it was common amongst their race he’d never really given it much thought; perhaps she didn’t feel comfortable enough around him. Siena didn’t speak much of her past and he hadn’t either, but it didn’t seem unusual. They hadn’t travelled that long together in spite of the rapport they’d established. The two walked closely together down the town’s main road just making all manner of small talk, dressed lightly for the midday stroll; Loran had not forgotten his sword which was tightly secured to his hip. Elves weren’t much taller than humans normally and the couple’s size difference was apparent, the still-growing warrior easily eclipsing the diminutive younger woman.  Loran didn’t mind the company of a pretty lass such as herself but was taken back by her forwardness; it was uncommon for girls her age to ask so many questions in his experience. Usually he would’ve initiated conversation, but what did he know? He had spent little time with girls or women as a child and now as young man. 

 
“Where are you from, your home that is?”
 
“A little ways east past the Highcrest Forest and some other territories”, he spoke calmly, “but it isn’t much of a home anymore.”
 
“Why’s that?” The inquisitive half-elf wasted little time.
 
He did his best to answer truthfully, “most of my family is dead or scattered across the realm.” There was a tinge of pain in his words but he did well to mask it. “What’s left of us is just trying to scrape by now really, but I’m on my own personal ‘mission’ if you will. Unfinished business, it needs to be addressed before I do anything else.”
 
She looked down, aware that she had struck a chord. “My apologies Loran, I must admit that I have lived a privileged life and haven’t witnessed much strife. I shouldn’t probe into your affairs so callously; it was unbecoming.” Now Grace felt embarrassed, regardless of her hidden intentions she did not mean to bring him anguish, physically or mentally. It was simply in her nature to dissect and analyze people, to better understand what made them tick, but she lacked her mother’s sadistic nature; she had a conscious. 
 
They walked together silently for quite some time before her walking companion spoke up. “The only time I saw you before was with your twin, are you two quite close?” It was a silly question, of course they were, but Loran wished to better understand their relationship as well as know more about the town. He had not forgotten why he was here and once he felt that he’d collected enough information would check in with Siena; how was she? 
 
“Elirial? She’s interesting”, her amber eyes lit up slightly as she spoke of her sister, “we’re very different but very much the same. Sometimes I feel like we’re the best of friends when we’re together, finishing each other’s sentences and all that, but at other times I just can’t see where she’s coming from.” She and her sister did have a unique relationship. They were the twin daughters of the high priestess and therefor knew the intricacies of the town’s inner workings to a tee. There was somewhat of a competition between them concerning who would be next in line for the mantle of responsibility, including who would serve the master directly. It would be a long time until their mother was ready to pass such a title on but it was a decision none the less. They worked for the same purpose but argued over nearly everything. Eli’ was aunty Isolde’s favorite while she was aunty Astrid’s. Her sister played coy but was really as depraved as her mother while she may have been assertive but really lacked the matching will. Their relationship was like fire and ice, and that was before Loran had arrived, an interesting and puzzling outsider; not to forget incredibly attractive to her. He was strong and honorable but also polite and open to her questions, not to forget she had heard of his uncle; it was destiny in some curious way. There was no doubt in her mind that if her sister had not been busy with their grandmother that she would’ve whisked her quarry away. It looked as though luck was on her side this time.  
 
“I had a brother”, He briefly reminisced about his own sibling, “although he was much older than I.” Loran rarely thought of his brother; it had been so long. 
 
“Had?” She couldn’t help herself.
 
“Yes, he left my family a long time ago. I haven’t seen him since I was very young.” It was a lie. Samuel had been killed over a decade ago, ran through by the same band of traitors that had disavowed their oath of chivalry and massacred much of his family. He was still a young lad when it had happened but sometimes thought of how things may have been different.
 
She could tell that something was off but knew that it wasn’t her place to dig any further; for now. “Anyone expecting you? To come back to that is?”
 
He rubbed the back of his head and gave the question some serious thought, it was an amusing yet honest question. What would he do once he did find the truth? He had given a lot of thought to his uncle’s fate and the outcomes were always bleak. Loran had little hope that he’d find him alive, perhaps only a few scraps of rusted armor and bones, if that. Then what? “No, not really. When my quest is over I—I don’t know what I’ll do. Settle down and use my hands to create something; not much glory in being an adventurer. Too much heartache. If you lose a battle, well, that’s it. If you win? You carry the burden of whatever you’ve done forever. Most of the memories aren’t too pleasant.” He was but a 19 year old boy really, yet he had already known a great deal of suffering. It was true that he had fought, struggled and even killed, but these were not the things that made a man. Living and dying for something or someone righteous, that was what made a man in his eyes; was he aimlessly chasing ghost? Her questions brought many queries to surface and he was secretly grateful for it. There was little time to really think on the road. Moments such as this put life into perspective in an unfamiliar way. 
 
“That sounds terrible, sorry you’ve been forced into that situation.” She truly did pity him. “My mother was an adventurer, a long time ago, but gave it up for me and my sister.” She felt comfortable telling him such things without giving away too much information. “And the roads? At least you have the freedom?” 
 
He thought for a moment, wanting to answer her question honestly but without talk of death; there had been enough of that for today. “There is indeed freedom, but there are other things. It’s lonesome, and even when you find others like yourself there’s always something missing. Everyone seems to be running from something: a family, a debt, a past.”
 
“Do you feel like you’re running from something?”
 
“Not entirely, running towards something maybe, but I don’t know what I’ll do when I find it.”
 
Grace hadn’t spent too much time with the local boys growing up and outside of her first time with the master had shied away from carnal desires; this was a new experience, courting. Loran was a good person, and while she knew that he would be much happier as a member of the flock she admired the experiences that made him; was this true individuality? He was a complicated person, which was quite rare given the complacent and jovial nature of Colifal. Her new knight was a breath of fresh air. “May we rest for a moment? There’s a spot just up ahead.” The two walked silently
 
Loran was slightly impressed by the size of the old oak tree, it would’ve towered over most trees he’d ever seen. It was quite unusual really, as it alone sat planted within the center of a great field, generally such giants made the heart of a great forest their home. Such a tree could’ve been older than his own household name which had come to be almost two-hundred years ago; it was more than slightly impressive.
 
“This was my favorite place to come as a child”, she unexpectedly broke the silence, “mainly to be alone.” Loran caught her also admiring the great oak, she seemed lost in thought. “My family has always been very close, connected almost, and it was hard to carve out a space for myself; this was that space.” Grace felt a great release being able to talk to him, especially because of his position as an outsider. She saw him as not just another member of the collective-- and for a instant considered telling him everything, of the world below, the nature of Colifal, all of it. To abandon his quest. To run away with her and find some faraway place that he could work with his hands to create. That he was a good person and deserved to live an honest and free life. That she would gladly build with him, and whatever they built would be theirs. A family, a home, it didn’t matter; it was a quaint daydream, quickly passing into but a faint notion before disappearing completely from her mind. 
 
Their eyes met only for a moment after she finished speaking, but to the two it seemed to last much longer. Loran spoke up, “perhaps we can stay here for a while and talk, I don’t mind resuming my business when we get back. If that’s fine with you?” He smiled, this was the most at peace he’d been in a long time.
 
“I’d like that.”
 
~
 
Siena had not ventured outside of the catacombs beneath the town’s chapel since her ‘conversion’, by the request of her daughter of course; she did not wish to interfere in Vir’iel’s plans. The elven maiden had been left to her own devices and once clothed found that the best way to kill time was to acquaint herself with the workings of the subterranean tunnels. After the initiation and some well needed bonding time with her granddaughter Sarah briefly disclosed to her the master’s intentions regarding the boy, as well as his family lineage. There was little need for her daughter to explain as Siena was in agreeance before they even spoke; their minds were in sync now. She would bide her time and wait for her traveling companion to willingly join the flock, or she would wait for further instruction and be used as her daughter saw fit. While it may have seemed cold not for a second did she feel concern for Loran’s wellbeing. He was a fine young man and would understand the sanctity and serenity of this town, as well as his potential place in it. The thought of him joining their family by blood warmed her heart and a smile spread across the elven woman’s face.
 
She cared little for the master but thanked him immensely for the opportunity that he had given them all; a second chance. As Siena smiled she glanced downwards, noticing her slightly enlarged breast, now immodestly accentuating her robed chest. A side effect from the sludge? Perhaps she had something else to thank the master for.
 
~
 
“We caught her on the outskirts of town lady Isolde”, a masked man spoke lowly. He looked towards the stony floor as he spoke, as a sign of submission and respect. He was a serious and stoic individual. 
 
“Oh Azrael, you may look me in the eye as you speak”, Isolde teased playfully. Time had softened her hard demeanor, but not her body. She was as fit and toned as she was nearly two decades ago, maintaining her slight muscularity and wonderful pale complexion. The restorative properties of slime had made all the women of Colifal age like fine wine. “Lady Sarah is not with us, and formalities are not my strong suit, you may speak freely.” The ex-adventurer had changed drastically since the ‘incident’ and encountering Aishura, no longer abrasive and snappy. It seemed that all she needed was a good humbling of sorts. 
 
She, Azrael, another guard, and the captive were conversing in one of the many abandoned side rooms of Aishura Keep. The dungeon’s network of tunnels and rooms made it ideal for all manner of unseen activity, and the perfect place for discrete ‘questionings’.
 
Azrael fixed his gaze, “We found this vagrant just beyond the old entrance’s exterior”, the well-built man pulled his captive to her feet with one arm. She was a young human girl that couldn’t have been older than 16. Her hair was raven, long and unkept, bright green eyes darting about in confusion and frustration. Perhaps she would’ve fought had she strength but in her current state could do little but silently partake in her own interrogation. There was no doubt in Isolde’s mind that she had been alone for quite some time as her clothes were of ragged and worn green cloth, plus she was quite thin, but not enough to urge immediate action. “She hasn’t uttered a word since we found her, and as you know we’d usually we’d let travelers slip by, but never this close to the old passage.” He was a good scout but an even better soldier, one of the chosen few to make up Sarah’s personal elite. He was only a few years older than Loran.
 
Isolde walked across the small room, now standing across from the poor girl and her two imposing captors; she wore a flowery sundress and shin-high sandals, a stark contrast from the dungeon’s ill-boding ambiance. Letting her ashen hair fall freely down her back. “I don’t mean to tease, but you summoned me to initiate a poor girl?” Her words were sincere and polite, yet Azrael felt mildly embarrassed as his last wish was to bother any one of the three matrons. “I was just in the middle of tending to the bees my sweet Az’, surely, she can be taken to The Pit. Then we can all resume our daily activities!” She spoke cheerfully, but only vaguely masked her desire to wrap things up. The Pit was an ancient underground well that once supplied Aishura keep with fresh water in the days before it fell to inhuman invaders, but now it took on a much more fiendish purpose. For the uninitiated it was a quick and invasive method of joining the flock, to put it lightly. To put it bluntly it was a twenty-foot-deep pit of writhing violet tendrils and pulsating slime, all of which seeking to invade and fill any bodily orifice. Sometimes people would spend a day or two within its rapacious confines, their minds completely succumbing to an overload of ecstasy from the aphroditic secretions. It was Sarah’s favorite method, Astrid’s most ill-advised, and Isolde was entirely indifferent. The fact that she was willing to subject a 15 or 16-year-old to such a fate was a sign, a sign that behind her calm and compassionate veneer was unmatched ambivalence.
 
“The High Priestess was preoccupied and asked that I seek you as witness.” Ah yes, Sarah did ask of her sisters that if a woman were to be found that one of them be present as witness to their initiation. She believed that it fluffed the ‘impact’ of the practice and allowed for women to more quickly integrate into Colifal society. Isolde sighed. 
 
Isolde reached out and gently ran a well-manicured hand down the girl’s dirt smudged cheek. “You’re probably scared out of your wits, poor thing”. She smiled as she spoke, and with her other hand reached towards her own mound. “Luckily I’m with you today, and I’m pleased to welcome you to our family.” The captive’s eyes relaxed and her entire body grew limp, her gaze now homing in on the stunning older woman’s; she was enchanted. Isolde smiled while stealthily using her other hand to extract some of the sentient slime that inhabited her. Upon mental command a stubby slug-like tentacle of purple goop parted her lips, awkwardly edging onto her fingers. Isolde felt a small wave of pleasure as the semi-sentient ‘slimeling’ pushed itself from her womanhood. Azrael and the other guard also felt and inkling of her pleasure, seeing that they are all connected, and felt genuinely happy for the new initiate. The young forest girl had little time to react before Isolde sneakily pressed the slime to her lips. When she noticed that the creature was wriggling against the edge of her mouth her panic resumed, but it was too late. The guards made sure she could make little use of her arms and despite its size the violet sludge was persistent and forceful; it was over. She could feel it squirm past her teeth, almost in between them, and edge its way down her throat. She buckled to her knees and the two men let go, acknowledging that their work was done for the most part. Despite her attempts to wretch the creature up it continued down her esophagus and her body was beginning to shake in terror. Isolde kneeled and tried to brush the girl’s hair, to comfort her in this great moment of transition. She gave a slight smile while offering her twisted yet motherly affection, “just relax little wild flower.” She was once in her place, but in a much rather cold and brutal setting, raped by a behemoth of a beast and given no respite. It filled her stomach several times with its foul seed and stretched her wider than she’d ever imagined with its unwieldly slab of meat. That was something. This was compassion. She glanced up at Azrael and the other, “that should make the pit much easier.” As the forest girl lost consciousness she rubbed her forehead gently, “I’ll take her myself, and as a reward you two can extract her once the process is complete. Perhaps she will show some gratitude for your chivalry.” Isolde gave a slight now and wink before lifting her from the ground and leaving the room. 
 
~
 
Yulia. My name. There was a dark void. A great empty space that existed within—somewhere. Words came, difficult, as did thoughts. She floated, aimlessly, and without purpose. Her body was naked, yet she did not feel ashamed. She was petite and short; a budding young woman. In an instance, a voice. 
 
“Hello Yulia.”
 
“H-Hello.” She was still floating, but now she felt somehow grounded, and she could speak again? To whom?
 
“We don’t know each other, yet really, but I’m hoping that we can become well acquainted.” The voice was calm and assuring. 
 
“I d-don’t know, I’ve been lost a long time.” 

 “Well I’ve found you, and now you have a family. A lot of us.”
 
“Can you help me? I just want to be someplace safe. I just want to—remember.” Much of her memory was like a deep fog. One without any sense of place or direction, an endless fog in all directions. 
 
“Yes, I can help you, and I’ll be your friend if you’d like? I know you’ve been alone for some time. If you stay with my family, you’ll be safe.” The voice, he, seemed like a good friend. Yes, but more, a good guide. 
 
“Yes please, I’d love that!” She felt—good. Everything still seemed disjointed but her new friend, no guardian, made her feel safe. He’d show her the way out. 
 
“Of course, but first I have a question.”
 
A question? She’d gladly try to answer. “Yes?”
 
“Do you like games, like chess?”
 
They spoke for quite some time as Yulia floated within the infinite void of the grand subconscious, her mystery guardian telling her of many grand stories and legends, but most importantly what and who she was. He seemed to love and know of many games. All the while the poor lass resided within the depths of The Pit. A fat convulsing tentacle slimed its way down her throat, pumping into her everything that a growing young woman needed. The young miss Yulia was not a stiff and static participant, her lips hungrily working their way up and down the fluid shaft. It was not alone, as other similar sized tendrils worked her lower body, some penetrating and others loosely coiling around her mid-section. The squeezed and scoured the length of her lithe body, excreting a potent stimulant that sensitized human skin. Her entire body became a receptacle of pleasure, a sponge of carnal desire, and her new master showed no sign of slowing down. The lower tendrils that gaped her pussy and asshole sped up their feverous assault and swelled in anticipation, each bearing a sloshing pool of Aishura’s arcane seed. Her inexperienced body quickly took to their rhythm and she rode them to the best of her ability given the confined nature of The Pit. Yulia was not entirely present, as much of her mind was still engaged in stimulating conversation with Aishura, but she could tell that it wasn’t only his kind words and assurances that were making her feel so loved. Soon the three primary tendrils reached their climax, what was strange was what they released, different from the usual dark ichor that was used to ‘fertilize’ the other women. These thick loads of slimy spunk felt too good, in a way that was changing the young woman on different level, but even after they finished their pace did not lessen. They simply kept pumping. One would believe that this could become unpleasant for the poor girl, but her body begged the contrary, instead adapting to their onslaught and adjusting in ways that better suited the monstrous phalli inside her. To put it bluntly she was acquiring all the right curves in all the right places. Yulia thirstily drank every drop of her master’s fluids, each gulp of the thick violet concoction further altering her body. Before she knew it, she was almost a different person, a willing slave to the pleasures of her newfound savior; in both body and mind. Her tiny petite body was now thick and voluptuous with wide hips and a full body. In all regards she was a servant to the master. The only question was, “what was Aishura planning?”

~

Thanks for reading! I want to ask you as the reader do you feel that there is enough of what you read for in recent chapters? Mainly this one? I'm trying to find a good balance between story telling and making sure you guys/gals 'enjoy' what I present. Thanks!

-Vamp