"I always wanted to climb up inside that," says Heidi. "But we were always in the carriage and mother wouldn't stop."
Before you can stop her, Heidi runs towards the windmill, her pert breasts bouncing up and down as she dashes into the grass and across the field. Camilla laughs and follows after her. You and Jacinda roll your eyes and follow as well.
It is musty inside the windmill, the stones dark and light breaking brightly through holes in the collapsing construction. The smell of rotten grain is unpleasantly sweet in the air. Heidi, always a bit of a monkey, has climbed all the way up to the top by the time you have reached the windmill.
"Alright," you call up to her. "That's enough of this. We should stay moving."
"Someone's coming!" shouts Heidi. "It looks light knights!"
Camilla pushes up to the top beside her and shouts her agreement, "Yes! They look like daddy's knights!"
"Get down here!" you shout. "Get down now. Be quiet!"
They react to the urgency in your voice and hurry down to the bottom. You climb up to where they were perched and look out over the rolling field. Fallow wheat. Some of it has been burned and beyond that blackened field, following a road that intersects the main road, comes a unit of mounted knights in full armor. Camilla was right, some of them do wear the heraldry of your family. But only a few. Others wear different plumage and helms styled after the heads of animals.
Could it be a group of surviving knights has banded together? They march closer and you study them. It is finally the behavior of the horses that makes you decide something is wrong. They are all hanging their heads down as if foraging and their bodies are emaciated. The knight hold the reins of the horses but hardly move in the saddles. There is no sound of conversation drifting over the field, only the clop of the hooves, the creak of armor plates and a desolate wind that howls across the grassland.
The knights reach the main road and turn in your direction. It is as the unit wheels onto the road that the full horror of what you are witnessing is revealed. Some of the knights have their visors up or have no visor at all and the exposed faces of the men are those of the dead. Sunken, pale faces, some badly mutilated, are visible even from this distance. A red malevolence glows in the sockets of these deathless warriors. A few of them are looking directly at you.
You practically leap down into the lower level of the windmill.
"What is it?" whispers Jacinda.
You shake your head.
"Form a circle. Hold hands. Quickly."
"What are we doing?" demands Heidi.
"We are going to hide and I am going to help that. It's our only chance now."
The four of you form a circle and you cast a spell of invisibility. It requires you to remain touching and completely motionless. So long as you and your sisters remain still, you will be undetectable. You hope.
"Keep your eyes closed," you whisper to your sisters.
The knights approach along the road. For a few minutes, you believe the procession might pass the windmill, but then you hear the clanking of some of the knights dismounting and the plodding approach of these undead fiends. The rotten door of the windmill swings slowly inward with a creak. You alone watch as one of the gaunt figures sheathed in the armor of one of your father's knights enters. He is followed by three others.
They move deliberately, as if each step is an effort, their pace so slow that it seems almost pathetic. But the undead, though slow, can be bottomless reserves of strength and stamina. Camilla trembles. The knights brush past you, so close that you can feel the aura of unhallowed magic surrounding them. Heidi opens her eyes and sees one of the knights. Her mouth opens in a wordless scream and she shuts her eyes again.
The knights seem to spend an eternity in the windmill, stabbing their swords into old sacks of grain and wandering around. Perhaps they can sense the life force of you and your sisters in some vague way. One of them fixes his red eyes on you and starts in your direction. You prepare to break the spell and cast another to defend you and your sisters. Just as he raises his sword up, just as you have made up your mind that you will fight rather than flee, a woman begins to scream outside the windmill. Her cries of terror jerk the knights away from you and, as quick as they can, they file out of the windmill.
You let out the breath you had been holding. The woman's screaming goes on and on. Whatever they are doing to the poor woman, there is nothing you and your sisters can do to help. You flee from the windmill as darkness falls and do not look back at the gathering of undead as they defile someone else.
Tarol is in utter ruins. Any joy in your heart that had survived the encounter with the undead knights is quickly smothered by the smoldering remains of everything your family built over generations. You've made it. You and your sisters are home.
What remains of it.
CONTINUE >
Encounter eleven - Wait
You are not sure what this creature intends and you must remain on your guard. You take a few steps back, partially raising your sword in a defensive stance. The creature cocks its head. Its tendrils ripple rhythmically and its bulging, golden eyes seem to flash with malevolence. It advances cautiously.
You raise your blade an increment and warn, "Keep your distance."
Gooseflesh prickles your arms. The unnatural movements of the tentacles increase and the creature begins to emit a strange clicking sound. You meet its gaze, only for a second, and you see into a pulsing golden halo. The tension ebbs from your body. Your guard slides lower.
"Wh- what are you doing?" you stammer, struggling to fight off the sensation.
There is a pressure on your mind, as if it is being squeezed by an invisible force. The creature moves quickly and fluidly, sliding within reach of your blade and then disarming you without violence. Long fingers clutch your blade and pull your sword to the floor with a loud ringing of steel on stone.
Those same hands slide up your sides and gather and squeeze the soft flesh of your breasts. The hands are so warm. You look into the eyes again and feel the last of your fears draining away. Warm fingers teasing gentle circles on your nipples. The writhing tentacles moving in a beautiful pattern. Clicks lulling you into the embrace of this strange creature.
In the back of your mind, a small cry warns you that grave danger awaits if you succumb to this hypnotic temptation. There may be no escape if you don't fight off the creature now.
What do you do?
Fight off the creature
Give in to the hypnotic relaxation
Encounter Fourteen - Parley
"Wait!" You have to shout to be heard over the clanking of the giant and the din from the foundry. You hold up your hands and stand your ground in the face of the approaching iron titan. "I just want to talk! Please!"
The iron giant stops short and lets out a puff of steam from behind its iron head. It lowers its hammer uncertainly.
"You must leave this place," it repeats.
"I will leave this place. But I cannot go back the way I came. There is only death and monsters back that way."
The giant tilts its head and glares at you with its glowing red eyes.
"You must go back that way!" It points with an iron finger back through the foundry.
"Why?" You say, slowly stepping around to the giant's side to get a look behind it. "There must be another way out of this place. Let me go that way."
The giant pivots at the waist to keep its front facing you. Not before you glimpse the back. There seems to be an entire steam boiler attached to that back, but also a small hatch. Just large enough for a very small person to enter. There is someone inside this machine.
"Alright," you say, stepping back. "I'll go."
The giant takes a step to follow you, but you are already backtracking and rushing around behind the giant. It tries to twist and stop you. Too slow! You grab a handhold on its boiler and pull yourself onto its back.
"No!" shouts the voice through the grate. "No! Get down!"
The ha
nds of the giant flail as it reaches back to pull you off. Your bare breasts scrape uncomfortably against the iron and the boiler is hot to the touch. You brace one foot on the giant's back and yank the hatch open with both hands.
There is a wooden compartment inside the machine. A tiny man - plump, balding and white-bearded - is curled up inside a small chair. He looks at you sheepishly and raises his hands from several control levers.
"You have me," he says. "I surrender."
Now that's a pleasant change! You pull him out of the hatch and set him on his feet on the ground. The giant immediately goes dormant, the light dying in its eyes to reveal two lenses of red glass.
"You are a gnome," you observe as you look the man over. He is wearing a grimy coverall. He seems unarmed. "I thought your kind was extinct."
"There are a few of us left. Madreg keeps me down here making cannons for his army. I try to sabotage every gun I make. Faults and fractures so they'll break after a few shots. I think he might have a master at arms who knows how to fix those though."
"You do just enough to keep alive," you say sympathetically. "Why were you trying to smash me with that hammer?"
"No, no, no. Please. I would never hurt you or any of the other girls." He mops the sweat from his brow with an oily rag. "Ah, I'm parched. Come on. Are you thirsty? I'll get you something to eat and drink."
You're still not sure you trust the little runt, but food and particularly something to drink sounds quite nice.
"The name is Olaf Pumpernickel, by the way," says the gnome as he leads you deeper into the cave.
You cannot hide the amusement from your voice as you tell him, "Kirsten Sungbaard."
"Kirsten? Pretty name. Whatever I have is yours, Kirsten."
"You don't have a tunic, do you?"
He looks back at your bare breasts and his ruddy face gets a bit ruddier. He looks away.
"No, no, sorry. Only this coverall and I doubt that would even cover your, um, ample... ah..."
"I get it," you chuckle.
"Here we are," he says, opening the door to a small house built inside the cave. "Sorry the ceilings are a bit low. Didn't expect visitors."
The three foot gnome has no problem entering. You have to stoop very low to get in through the door and the ceiling won't allow you anywhere close to fully standing. The furniture makes your bottom seem enormous as you crouch and sit upon one of the chairs.
Olaf scurries about his little house, gathering bits and pieces of food, until he offers you up brined pork, a cooked egg of some sort of cave reptile, a bit of bread and a jam he made himself from "deep berries." It's actually quite good, though there is not much of it. You wash it down with a great quantity of cool, clean water.
"I suppose you could stay with me," says Olaf, raising an eyebrow hopefully.
You give him a frown and a flat, "No."
"Ah, you know, I just thought of something. I have a bit of brandy. It's good old stuff, smuggled to me by a goblin who visits from time to time. Good fellow. Yalak." He claps his hands and stands up from the table. "I believe I would like some. Can I tempt you?"
A strong drink after all you have been through does sound quite nice. If Olaf intended to poison you he could have slipped something into any of the food items he just fed you. This seems a genuine offer of hospitality.
Will you drink the brandy with Olaf?
Yes, you need a strong drink and some friendly company
No, you need to keep your wits, even around the gnome
Bad Ending - The Manticore's Mate
The manticore holds your head in his jaws, his teeth poised to crack your skull if he so desired. But he is only holding your head this way for leverage as he thrusts his hindquarters and pounds his huge cock into your depths. By now, your body is no longer in agony, even when the huge beast decides to play rough with you. His cock squelches loudly in your hot, wet channel and you take him almost to his root.
Though he is rough today, he is increasingly careful about how hard his cock strikes against your cervix. Your belly is grotesquely swollen with his litter. You can feel the huge beasts squirming in your womb. You do not know if you can even survive the birthing, but it does not matter. All you feel is love for your manticore mate and you are never happier than when he is using your clutching cunt for his bestial pleasure.
"Ohhhhh yes," you groan. "Fuck me, my love."
To the best of your abilities, you thrust back against him. Your plump bottom rubs against the underside of his furry belly. Your depths yearn for him and you squeeze around his thrusting cock as if your thirst for his seed might drain the cream from his loins. You feel him tensing above you. His teeth so tight on your head they are drawing trickles of blood. His cock swells in your slick cunt.
He releases his grip on your head suddenly and you flop forward onto your belly with a gasp. His cock slides from your cunt and his feet pin you down by the backs of your shoulders. His cock drops against the soft groove of your ass and he thrusts and roars at the same moment. Hot manticore spunk gushes over your back and spatters past your shoulders. Waves of his cum slick your hair and his gooey load pools in the small of your back.
His weight lifts and he strides across the cave to lick himself clean by the light of one of the guttering natural fires.
"T-thank you, my love," you moan, pushing yourself upright.
He has dragged the gnawed carcass of some beast into the cave. You carve it up with your sword and cook some by the flames to nourish your growing body. You bathe in a pool of cold dark water and only when you are full and clean do you climb beside the manticore and curl against his warmth.
You do not know what your future holds as the mate of this beast. You know the past is best forgotten. And you are certain that your adventure is at an end.
< START OVER | INDEX
Encounter Fifteen - Turn and Face the Wolves
You can hear them panting and crashing through the forest behind you, too big and too loud to be ordinary wolves. You emerge into the clearing and decide you are not going to make it to the cabin in time. You turn to face the wolves.
One by one, three hulking, gray-furred brutes run out of the woods. They are no normal wolves. You know the legend. These are werewolves. They may move on all fours, but they have hand-like front claws and shoulders and hips more like a human.
The three of them draw up short in front of you and stand up, at least seven feet, on their hind legs. There is a clatter of shingles as a fourth of these wolves climbs atop the roof of the cabin. It stares at you with glowing red eyes.
All four beasts growl and curl their lips back to reveal enormous fangs that look like they could tear you to pieces. The three in front of you spread out, blocking any possible route of escape back into the forest.
"Give up, bitch." The snarling words come from the largest of the three werewolves facing you. "You belong to us now."
Not yet. They may think they have you, but you still have a sword, your wits, and your magic. There may yet be a way out of this.
What do you do?
WAIT
PARLEY
ATTACK
MAGIC
SURRENDER
Special Encounter - Threaten him with your sword
You have had enough of this humiliating nonsense. Your lips tighten into a frown and you stand up and walk over to where you discarded your sword belt. Even with all this cum on your hand you can manage a firm grip on the sword as you draw it from the scabbard. You turn and quickly bring one of the sharp edges of the blade beneath the door's huge cock. The increasingly flaccid hose hangs precariously over the razor-honed blade.
"What!? What is the meaning of this?" The door stares in horror. "You can't do this to me! I'll never open for you."
You add a little more pressure to the blade.
"Don't you move on me. Try to pull this into your door and I'll lop it off."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"I'm betting it won't feel too nice." You w
ipe some of the cum off your free hand and onto the door itself. "Now, I've worked myself sore trying to satisfy you and I've had enough. Open up or I am going to take this as a souvenir and find another way around."
The door stammers for a moment, stops himself from saying something to anger you, and instead lets out a long, disappointed sigh.
"Very well. You win. Please, lower the blade and I will open."
You trust the door just enough to lower the blade a few inches from beneath his cock.
"I should have tried this sooner," you mutter.
There is a loud clank of a shifting lock and the door swings towards you. Immediately, heat and the sound of rain confronts you. The back of the door is covered in a layer of moss and rust and it has opened the way to what appears to be a way out.
"Is this the exit?" you ask, your heart soaring.
"The courtyard," says the door. "The sorcerer keeps beasts out there, so be careful."
You step through the door and smile up at the night sky. The monsoon rain is warm and washes away the filth of the dungeon. The tropical air is hot and filled with the smell of the jungle that extends into the night. You have never been in a jungle before, but you have read about them. Huge trees and strange animals.
"I hope something eats you, bitch!" shouts the door.
You smile, make a rude gesture, and depart. You set off into the wilderness, glad to forget that you are still trapped within Madreg's prison. You do not know what magic or construction opens to the sky, but you are not going to give up on escaping this nightmare.
Princess to Pleasure Slave Adventure: The Dungeon of the Monster Breeder Page 10
