The Easily Defeated Hero's Monster Girl Adventure

by Amanda Clover

  She strokes your cheek and your flesh tingles with pleasure. Your cock jumps in your trousers and your face grows hot. You can hardly believe the honor she is bestowing on you as she presses her luscious body against yours and kisses you on your lips. Her tongue slips into your mouth, pleasure racing through your body, your cock jerking and your seed spilling into your trousers. As you cum, she feeds on the kiss, drinking some of your essence in a violet glow.

  “Oh, you do worship me,” she giggles, tapping a finger on your sensitive cock through your trousers. “Clean that up and I will take you to the village. You look as if you need something to eat.”

  “Yes, my queen,” you gasp, your cock still twitching with aftershocks of your orgasm.

  Lady Rachelle leads you through the jungle. Watching her move is addicting. You find yourself staring at her plump ass in her tight trousers or her jiggling bust whenever she turns to say something to you. Even those full lips of hers, so soft and lovely, make your mind reel with intense erotic fantasies.

  The goblin village is small, but bustling with green-skinned goblins. A few eye you warily, but most seem wholly focused on Lady Rachelle. They gather around her, stroking her hips and reaching for her hands, all of them chattering excitedly.

  “This is my flock,” says Lady Rachelle. “I know it is not much, but it is only a beginning.”

  She speaks to the goblins in their tongue, gesturing to you as she apparently explains your new role as her high priest. The goblins gather around you, bowing down and kissing your filthy boots. A particularly large and fat goblin shouts something and the smaller goblins cheer.

  “They are going to celebrate with a feast,” explains Lady Rachelle. “In my honor, of course.”

  “Of course, my queen,” you say, bowing low.

  “I think I will have a meal before they slaughter their pigs,” she says, looking over the goblins. “Ah, that little one. Bepko. He has not had so much as a kiss from me. Would you care to watch, Lucas?”

  “Oh, um, if you wish, my queen,” you say.

  She calls out to the goblin in their savage tongue and the small goblin comes scurrying over, excited, but also clearly bashful as he can hardly force himself to look up at the Succubus Queen. She takes his hand and he moans with pleasure at her touch.

  “Come along, Lucas,” she says, leading the goblin by the hand ahead of you.

  She takes him to a hut that is larger than the others and clearly built to a human scale. It is the best-built of all the goblin structures and covered in decorations and carved embellishments. Sweet-smelling garlands of flowers hang on the roof and around the small windows. Bepko, the small goblin, says something with excitement.

  “He is happy to offer himself to me,” says the Queen. “The goblins are so generous.”

  The interior of the hut is furnished with crude pillows made from red-dyed cloth and stuffed with goose down piled high around a deep fire pit decorated with stones.

  Lady Rachelle pushed Bepko down among the cushions, leaving you standing just inside the door of the hut. You watch in awe as her costume slips from her body like smoke, revealing her creamy flesh in its luscious abundance. Bepko moans as she pulls off his loincloth, revealing his stiff cock. She drags her tits over the green little finger of his maleness and he whimpers and ejaculates in a splashes against her dangling breasts.

  “Oh, he is so very eager,” she giggles. “So…giving.”

  She kisses Bepko and you see the violet magic flowing from him into her. It is much brighter than when Morelle used to feed on your life force. She is taking so much, so quickly. She pulls back, breaking the kiss, and she licks her way down his little monstrous body. Her mouth reaches his cum-smeared cock and she begins to lick and suck. The goblin screeches with pleasure, thrusting his hips and fucking into her mouth. More of that violet magical energy swirls around her mouth as she drinks his cum and his essence with each spurt.

  He falls back, exhausted, panting, and muttering something in his savage tongue.

  “He is almost exhausted,” says Lady Rachelle, licking goblin cum from her lips. “Shall I finish him off, Lucas? Take every drop of his soul? Or will you provide some for me?”

  “My queen, I would be happy to give you some of my essence,” you say, stepping forward onto the cushions.

  “Come and stick it in me then,” she says, wagging her shapely ass from side to side, her violet-tinged pussy dripping with her nectar.

  You grip your cock tightly to keep from spurting your seed at the mere sight and scent of her beautiful cunt. You thrust your hardness into that slippery, silky channel, moaning as her incredible heat swallows up your cock. She drops her head into Bepko’s lap, stifling her moan around his wee goblin cock. She slurps at him and moans as you fuck her tight pussy, afraid to release the root of your cock because you know you will instantly explode.

  “Oh, goddess,” you moan. “My beautiful goddess. My queen.”

  “Yesssss, fuck me,” she moans, her mouth still full of cock. “Your cock is so much better than these tiny little goblin cocks.”

  “Ahhhhhh, your pussy, my queen,” you cry. “I… I’m going to…I can’t hold…hold back! AHHHHHH!”

  “Eeeeeee!” Bepko cries out in the same instant.

  Violet energy flares around Lady Rachelle’s pussy and her mouth as she feeds on you and the helpless goblin at the same time. You stroke deep into the succubus’s clutching cunt, firing your seed and feeling an even more powerful rush as she drains your essence with each spurt. You don’t care. In that moment, in the throes of that ecstasy, you would let her drain you dry.

  The moment passes and your cock, though still hard, slips from Rachelle’s creamy pussy. She lifts her mouth from Bepko’s cock and you realize, with a jolt, that the poor goblin has gone almost white and looks desiccated. His cock has shriveled to the size of a bean.

  “You…you killed him,” you gasp.

  “Mmmmmm, yes,” she says. “There are many more goblins to feast upon. Would you have preferred I drain you dry?”

  She reaches back and takes hold of your cock. You shiver as pleasure ripples through you from her touch.

  “N-no,” you gasp. “No. I am your high priest, m-my queen. You need me.”

  “Yes, I do,” she giggles. “For now.”

  CONTINUE >

  Leave Theora to honor her vows

  The tears streaming down Theora’s face are enough to decide the matter for you. After all this, you never wanted to cause the beautiful angel any pain.

  “I am so sorry, Theora,” you say, pulling her hands to your lips and kiss them. “This was all a selfish mistake. I was…was living out a fantasy in my head where it would be like before, us, together…and I see now just how cruel that was. You have found a path to happiness.”

  “Y-yes,” she says, nodding seriously as tears drop from her eyes. “Yeanelle has…has given me back my purpose.”

  “You are happy,” you say, even though the room is crushingly full of sadness. “You are happy and…and that is all that matters to me.”

  You get up to leave. She follows you to the door. You smile sadly and start to walk away.

  “Lucas,” she calls out softly.

  You turn back. She seems on the verge of saying something else, but some dam breaks within her and she nods and says, “Goodbye, my hero.”

  “Goodbye, my angel,” you say.

  You walk out of the abbey and into the rain. You do not look back.

  The nearest town is Muret. Its streets are partly flooded by the downpour, but the lanterns are glowing in several taverns around the main square. You choose one that looks like it might serve the cheapest ale and push your way inside. The warmth of the hearth greets you like a lover’s embrace. You sit down, dripping wet, as close as possible to the crackling flames. Men and women pay you no notice in the bustling tavern.

  The townsfolk of Muret are a stocky, hardy breed and the barmaid who finally approaches is no different. She is pretty, t
o be sure, with plaited red hair, big green eyes, and an impressive expanse of creamy cleavage in her peasant dress.

  “Coming down out there, eh?” She says, leaning over and giving you a good look down the front of her dress. “What would warm you up tonight, love? Hot buttered? Some stew?”

  “You’d do it,” you say a bit bitterly.

  “Is that right?” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re the dog jumped after the duck right now, lad, but dry off and spare a few coins and I’ll reconsider. Now then, stew?”

  “Yeah, stew,” you grunt.

  “Charmer, you are,” she laughs, sauntering away with a shake of her hips.

  The stew is mostly vegetables, but it’s hot and combined with the fire restores some semblance of life to your body. After more than an hour, you are dry enough to feel almost human, though you still feel exhausted from your emotional meeting with Theora.

  “Got some color to your cheeks now,” says the barmaid, returning with fresh ale. It’s terrible pisswater, but it fills your belly better than the stew. “Alright then, silver and I’ll give you a tug. Two and I’ll suck it off, but no comin’ in the mouth. Four and you can have a real go.”

  You reach into your pocket and fish out a gold piece you scraped together working on the barge weeks earlier.

  “The night,” you say, sliding it across to her. “Whatever I want for the whole night.”

  Her eyes light up, the gold piece disappearing so quickly it is like a magic trick.

  “Alright then, love,” she says. “Let me finish up, hand it off to my sister. The name is—“

  “Theora,” you say. “I’m going to call you Theora tonight.”

  “Right,” she says. “I’ll be Theora.”

  She finishes up serving the customers and disappears into the back. She returns a few minutes later no longer wearing her apron. She takes your hand and leads you up the stairs. You can feel several of the men in the tavern staring at you jealously. They all know what is going on and they must have heard they wouldn’t be getting a turn tonight.

  You thump up the steps, feeling the ale in your brain and in the heat in your cheeks. You left the back of the barmaid’s skirt, glimpsing her plump thighs and the blue fabric of her underwear.

  “Not until we’re in the room!” She scolds, swatting your hand away and dropping the back of her skirt.

  “Theora,” you say, the name thick on your drunken tongue.

  “Right, I’m Theora, love,” she says, unlocking a door and stepping inside.

  The room is sparsely furnished with a straw mattress, a small table and two chairs. It stinks of sweat and spilled beer.

  “We use the room for business,” explains the barmaid. “So let’s get to it.”

  She drops to her knees and unbuckles your belt. She gives your cock a sniff, a quick wash with a wet cloth from a basin on the table, and she begins stroking you with one hand. She uses her other hand to unlace her bodice and let her big, creamy breasts drop free. The barmaid is heavy, her body doughy, though she is still beautiful.

  “Nice cock,” she says and leans forward to take it into her mouth.

  “Theora,” you moan, cradling her head with both hands. She begins bobbing and slurping noisily on your manhood. You groan as her mouth slides up and down, her tongue flicking your tip as she fondles your bollocks.

  “Mmmhhhmm,” she moans around your cock, sending pleasure vibrating up your shaft. She is quite good at sucking cock. Your knees go weak and you almost topple over. You manage to pull one of the chairs over and sit down heavily. She takes a moment, still wanking you, to lick and suck your balls. Her warm mouth draws them in and she teases them with her tongue.

  “I’m sorry, Theora,” you moan. “Oh, god, I have to fuck you.”

  “Yeah?” She climbs up on the bed and you move between her thick, creamy thighs. Her pussy is thatched with crimson, her pale pink cuntlips slick. You kiss her passionately, moaning as you thrust into her hot cove.

  “Ohhhhh, yes, that’s it,” she gasps. “Give it to me proper. Give Theora that cock.”

  “I just wanted to be with you,” you cry, thrusting desperately into the barmaid’s slick pussy. “Oh, gods, I love you, Theora.”

  “I love you too,” she gasps. “I love your big fuckin’ cock. Gods! You’re splittin’ me!”

  “Shhhhh,” you hiss. “Shut up.”

  “Oh, that’s how it is? Alright, then,” she says. She moans loudly, but does not speak anymore. You grab her huge breasts roughly and plow her slick cunt. You slam in and out of her folds, making her plump breasts shake and sway.

  You feel your pleasure growing and cry, “Theora! I’m going to cum!”

  “Not inside me,” she gasps.

  You barely manage to obey, pulling out and exploding in thick, gooey ropes across her belly and her creamy tits. She laughs and moans, watching you wank your spurting come and splash her body with your hot cum.

  You sag onto the bed next to her, gasping for breath.

  “That’s it,” she says, toying with the cum decorating her body. “Catch your breath, love. Then Theora will get your prick hard again.”

  You moan as her fingers brush against your sensitive tip. She chuckles and leans over to kiss you. Her tongue is boozy, but you yield to it, swapping pleasure with the beautiful barmaid.

  This, you realize, will be your life until you manage to get over Theora. At this rate, it might take years and thousands of silvers. You’ll spend your time and your coin in the bars and brothels of this and surrounding towns, always wondering about Theora, fantasizing about walking back into her life and professing your love.

  Of course, it’s too late for that. You have allowed true love to slip through your fingers.

  THE END

  < RESTART EPILOGUE | GALLERY >

  Happily Ever After

  Justina bounces on your mother’s lap, cooing sweetly and giggling each time she looks up at your mother’s smiling face.

  “Aren’t you a little angel?” Your mother tickles Justina under her chin and your daughter’s tiny wings covered in fluff wiggle excitedly. “Has she taken her first steps yet?”

  “Still crawling,” says Theora. “She might fly first. She had her first adult feather come in just this morning.”

  You stand with you arm around your angelic wife, visiting the farmhouse where you grew up, and watching your mother play with your six month only daughter. Life could not be much happier for you and Theora. Maybe if Genevieve was visiting as well.

  “How long can you stay?” Your mother asks hopefully.

  “Overnight,” you say. You see the touch of disappointment in your mother’s face. “I bought all the seeds I need in town this afternoon. A few goats and a cow as well.”

  “Where was it you said you’ve decided to settle down?” You mother asks, resuming bouncing Justina in her lap.

  “Muret,” you say. “It’s far from here, near the Andolyne Coast. Theora has been working as a barmaid at one of the taverns in town and I’ve been working at the smithy and building our house. Just finished building all the fencing and I wanted to buy some of those Rajun goats and seed from Tannic’s for spring planting.”

  “Old Tannic always had the best, at least according to your father,” says your mother.

  “You should come visit us after fall harvest,” says Theora. “You and Genevieve. I would love to make you both a feast.”

  “We will,” says your mother. She gives you and Theora a curious look, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. “You know, when your father and I were newly married and you were just a tot, your father and I could hardly get a moment alone.”

  “Yeah, that sounds about right,” you chuckle, feeling a bit nervous at the way your mother is looking at you and Theora.

  “We weren’t anywhere near my family or his,” continues your mother. “Which means nobody could watch you for the night while your father and I…well, spent some time alone.”

  “Oh,” you say, yo
ur cheeks reddening.

  “Mrs. LeBlanc,” laughs Theora, sharing your embarrassment.

  “It will be fine,” says your mother. “Go for a walk together. It’s a lovely night. Justina and I will bake some bread together, isn’t that right my little sweetie?”

  Justina smiles and coos in agreement.

  “It has been an awfully long time since we’ve been alone together,” says Theora. You have found moments together since Justina was born, here and there, but it would be nice to go for a walk and be alone with each other.

  “Alright then,” you say, taking Theora’s hand. You say to Justina, “Have fun with grandma.”

  “Be good, my little sugar plum,” says Theora, kissing Justina on her forehead. Justina coos with delight, more intent on playing with your mother’s necklace than listening to her parents.

  You and Theora walk out of the farmhouse hand in hand. It’s early evening and the fire bugs are blinking in the horse pasture. Your mother has been tending the animals alone. You try not to think about the slaughter of your livestock that greeted you when you returned from Kazadar. You walk with Theora past the barn and along a dirt path leading into the wild woods near your family plot.

  “It’s beautiful here,” says Theora, running her fingers over the pink blossoms of a kiero tree.

  “It is,” you agree. “I want to show you the stream where I used to sneak out and swim at night.”

  “Night swimming,” she says. “Very dangerous for humans.”

  “It’s not very deep,” you say. “And I’m a good swimmer.”

  “So says most men who have drowned,” says Theora with a laugh.

  “You have a very dark sense of humor. Have I ever told you that?”

  “You love it,” she says, tugging you closer.

  “I love the whole package. The dark humor comes with it.” You give her hip a squeeze and she sticks out her tongue at you.

  You see the familiar stump alongside the path and know you have reached the swimming hole. You pull aside some of the foliage and lead Theora down another, smaller path, beaten only by the feet of a growing boy in his youth. You slip into a small clearing, the logs you used to sit upon with your sister still soft with moss. The stream here forms a gently swirling pool of cold water. In the warm spring evening it is just the right temperature for a swim.