Esmeralda the Evil Necromancer 2

Esmeralda ran through the forest as fast as her sore, tired legs could carry her. The moonlight barely illuminated the path, and the wicked limbs of old, gnarled trees snatched at her robes from either side. Her lungs burned for want of air, and tears streaked down her cheeks, but she couldn't slow down. Not for a second. So, she ran.

There weren't many safe places for a person like her. None, really. Her face was plastered on Wanted posters throughout any civilized town within a hundred miles of her tower. If she showed up at another wizard's sanctum, it would be taken as a threat; encroaching on a rival's domain. And monster dens were strictly out—it would be a repeat of what awaited her back in her tower, only with a random element of the unknown added. No, she didn't have many options.

Which was why she was running straight to the Alchemist of the Bramble Mire. The alchemist wasn't some altruistic healer. She wasn't known for her charity, or kindness, or people skills. But, she had the tools and talents Esmeralda needed. Hopefully, they could strike a deal that was mutually beneficial for both of them, and this nightmarish chapter of Esmeralda's story would finally be behind her.

Esmeralda burst from the treeline into a clearing, and fell onto her hands and knees. She sucked in massive gasps of air, her whole body shaking with exertion. Sweat and dirt—and less savory things—coated her skin, pooling in her nooks and crevices. She was so deathly tired. She was living misery. But, as she looked up and caught sight of the small, red-brick apothecary with warm candlelight flickering in its windows, she still felt a small glimmer of hope.

Rising back to her feet was a monumental task, and making herself presentable was an impossible feat, but she did both as best she could. She'd need a week of rest and a half dozen baths to achieve her desired look, but she at least removed the loose twigs and leaves from her hair. She wiped her face dry with a frayed sleeve of her tattered robes, likely smearing dirt and whatever else down her cheeks. She wasn't perfect, but at the very least, she caught her breath before she raised her shaking hand, and knocked on the door.

A comical cacophony of crashes and cusses issued from somewhere behind the door. As if a sailor carrying an arm-load of anchors fell down a set of stairs, and shouted every colorful word they knew on the way down. The door swung open, and the face that greeted her wasn't anywhere near what she expected. Esmeralda had met many alchemists in her years as an artificer—their crafts were similar and complementary without a burden of overlap—but the potion makers she knew were typically one of two camps. There were the young, vibrant, nature-loving type who all looked fresh out of their apprenticeships, or the old, gnarled, hunched creatures who looked more like a plant than a person. The Alchemist of the Bramble Mire must've been the secret, intermediate step between those extremes.

The woman had a shock of blue hair, a vibrant shade that was reminiscent of ocean waves when the sun was high. She kept it chin-length on one side, but shorn near to bald on the other. She had over a dozen piercings scattered around her face and head: two bars through her eyebrow, a stud in one nostril, a trio of rings circling her bottom lip, and countless more in either ear. Her body was stunningly sculpted, her thick, muscular arms displayed sleeveless on either side of her apron. Standing a full head above Esmeralda, she looked down at the bedraggled artificer with curious, hazel green eyes.

"Now there's a right mess," she casually remarked after her inspection. "What brings a disaster like this to my doorstep in the dead of the night?"

"I need…" Esmeralda paused. How much could she let on? What was safe to share, and what needed to stay secret? After a moment of reflection, she decided she couldn't afford secrets right now. She needed a confidant more than prudence. "I need fantishade. Immediately."

"Fantishade…?" the word stretched out on the woman's pierced lips as she thought. "What, did ya have a little too much fun with a farmer's son, and regret it the second he rolled off ya? Yer thin as a rail. Ya don't need fantishade. Ya need some water and a good night's rest. Come back after ye've missed yer first bleed."

"You don't understand," Esmeralda explained, trying and failing to keep the panic out of her voice. "I didn't have some drunken tryst. I was attacked. By goblins. I need to get their spawn out of me before it takes root."

"Attacked by goblins?" The alchemist asked, skeptically. "No offense, but ya don't look like the adventuring type. Yer shoes are terrible for travel, yer robes couldn't last a week on the road, and I don't see a backpack anywhere near ya. What were ya and goblins doing anywhere near each other?"

Esmeralda blew out a massive sigh. All of her observations were correct. And the only explanation that made sense was the truth. It was also her most dangerous secret to tell.

"I am Esmeralda Wynne. My steward betrayed me, turning all of my minions against me. I only barely escaped. If you help me, I can repay you in ways no other mortal ever could."

The woman's eyes grew wide with the revelation. A foreign expression flashed across her face; maybe it was pity, maybe it was sympathy. It certainly wasn't the fear or reverence she was used to. The alchemist loosed another swear.

"The Witch-Necromancer," she nearly whispered the title. As if saying it too loudly would summon hell itself. After a moment, she stepped back, leaving her door wide. "Get yerself in, then," she offered, then turned to lead the way.

"I'll get ya better than new in a flash," the alchemist promised as Esmeralda followed her into the apothecary. Her work space was astounding. Hundreds of small clay pots filled shelves that ran from floor to ceiling, each one marked with an ingredient name or alchemy formula in a distinctive, scratchy scrawl. There were dozens of glass flasks and phials and beakers, in stands or under distilling apparatus. At the center of it all was her desk. It was a majestic hardwood, decorated with elaborately carved plant life scaling the side. The reliefs were so intricate, they almost looked like real flora. The alchemist wasted no time once she reached the space. She pulled a wide range of dried herbs and seeds, dropping each into the bowl of a well-used mortar as she crafted a concoction on the fly. Esmeralda was impressed. Potion making was delicate work; to brew the right admixture took complex recipes and exacting measurements. To move with such speed and grace meant she was truly a master.

"Ya barely managed yer egress, ya said," the alchemist worked while she talked, grinding the pestle into the collected ingredients, "didya manage to escape with any of yer famed magical creations?"

"Sadly, no," Esmeralda admitted. Her hand unconsciously moved to her ear, rubbing the torn lobe where her earring had been ripped out. "They waited until I was disarmed to attack me. Otherwise it would've been over in seconds… But don't worry," she quickly added, "I'll be able to pay you back manyfold once this grim business is concluded."

"Oh, aye?" The alchemist said, pulling a kettle from its home in a hearth. She poured steaming water into the herbs she'd moved to a mug. "I'm not too fretted. I'm sure this meeting will be fruitful in multiple ways fer me." The alchemist brought the mug over to Esmeralda, who was hovering at the periphery of the workshop. The brown and green mixture reminded her of the tainted bath water, and revulsion clenched in her stomach. This was a curative, she reminded herself; this will fix the problems that that soiled muck caused.

"Goblin seed grows quick, so I added a pinch extra fantishade," she explained. "Plus a restorative, since I imagine they're not too gentle lovers. And a pain reliever. Should go down easy, and make ya light as a cloud." With that, she turned and began tidying up her space.

Just holding the mug was a comfort, the warmth radiating into her hands and bringing up her mood considerably. Esmeralda took a small sip. The flavor was wonderful. No sharp sting, no bitterness, none of the strong tastes that often denote medicine. It was sweet and bright and it spread its warmth as it went down. Even after one sip, she already felt like she was becoming human once again. Without hesitation, or letting it cool further, she brought the mug to her lips and drank deeply. As it filled her mouth and cascaded down her throat, Esmeralda could feel the damage there heal in real time. She felt everything being set to right. As if she was being fixed, not just physically, but spiritually. She tipped the mug up and didn't stop until it was dry.

As she drew the empty cup from her face, the whole room seemed to wobble unnaturally. She looked left and right, but as she turned her head everything seemed to smear and echo. She didn't feel any pain. She didn't really feel anything, at all. Not even the weight of her own body. It was a wholly surreal experience.

"Didya drink that whole thing in one go?" She could hear the alchemist's voice, but she sounded like she was miles away. A whole dimension spread out between them. "I figured ye'd mull it over slowly. Take yer time. I'm astonished ye've managed to keep yer feet!"

As if the alchemist had said the activation phrase of a spell, Esmeralda's consciousness winked out, and her body collapsed in a lifeless heap.

***

Esmeralda woke up in a nightmare. Her mind was hazy, and she felt like she was wading in a sea of molasses, but even with half a conscious thought, she knew everything was wrong. She was still in the apothecary; she could just make out the little clay jars, and the impressive wooden desk, despite her slightly blurred vision. Her robes were gone. Every spare scrap of the black fabric had been removed from her body, and put somewhere beyond her sight. Along with anything else she had been wearing. She was in a reclined position, somewhere halfway between sitting and laying. She tried to get up, but found she couldn't move any of her limbs.

She was strapped to a bizarre piece of furniture. Her arms were held over her head, bound somewhere out of sight. Her legs were spread wide open, cuffed metal stirrups holding them in place. The whole apparatus felt like a device a doctor might use to intimately observe feminine body parts; and since she was bare naked, her most intimate parts were certainly on display.

Esmeralda tested her bonds as best as her syrup leaden arms would allow, and found there was barely any give in any of them. Metal rubbed and rattled with her efforts, and quickly gained the attention of her captor. The blue haired alchemist strolled into view, a surprised smile on her face.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "Yer awake! Guess it's time for yer second dose, then." Still woozy and heavy, Esmeralda watched as the woman casually walked between her spread-open legs and leaned uncomfortably close to her naked body. She opened Esmeralda's loosely hanging mouth, pressing a salty thumb against her tongue to control her jaw, and poured a different potion straight down her throat. Unlike the first, this one was bitter, and a little sour. And instead of feeling like warmth and happiness, it was more like liquid fire that burned the whole way down. Worse than the strongest alcohol she'd ever drank in her life, it seemed to get even more potent with each passing second. Even as it pooled in her gut, it was like molten lead, heavy and scalding.

"What did you make me drink?" Esmeralda demanded. The fog in her brain seemed to dissipate, burned off by the boiling brew she'd been force fed. "What are you doing to me? I feel like I'm on fire."

"The first time, or the second?" The blue haired witch mockingly asked. "Guess it don't matter, huh? The first one was mostly honest. Restorative. Pain reliever. But, instead of fantishade I gave ya a sedative. Though, I guess that's kinda obvious," she gave a playful shrug, still beaming that smile that was growing more deranged by the second.

"The second potion? Well, that one's a lot more fun." Her hazel eyes tracked down Esmeralda's naked body, taking a scenic stroll over every bare inch of her. When her unhurried, searching gaze finally hit the nadir, right between Esmeralda's legs, she bit her lip and lingered a moment, before starting her return journey. "Mostly, it was a bunch of stimulants. One to speed up the growth of the foetus, one to boost lactation, one to help yer body transition towards motherhood, and prevent any damage from the rapid growth and prolonged use you'll be going through. And finally, an aphrodisiac so incredibly powerful that it'll rewrite all yer senses or feelings. Ye'll be in far too much pleasure the next few days ya won't even feel the whelp slip out."

"W-what?" Esmeralda barely stammered the word out. She was burning up; the fire in her belly was spreading. It pooled in her loins, setting her privates ablaze, but it also rose, blanketing her chest in an internal inferno. At the edge of her eyesight, she watched as her breasts grew. They expanded and swelled, her skin stretching to accommodate their incredible accumulation. Within seconds they'd quadrupled—or more—in size, and sagged and drooped down her chest. She gasped in horror, and felt her now massive tits slosh with the movement. A yellowish liquid formed at the tips of her nipples, occasionally dripping onto her belly, before skirting off her side.

"Why?" Esmeralda cried the word out as her body continued its strange metamorphosis.

"Why the pleasure?" The alchemist asked, "Because I'm not a monster. Not like yer infamous fer, anyways. Why the…" she flicked a wrist, gesturing at Esmeralda's bound form, "...this? Because ye've brought me my own personal army. The goblin spawn inside ya will come out in days. I'll raise 'em, and he'll think of me as his mum. They grow incredibly fast, too, goblins. Less than a month later and he'll be breeding age. Then, he'll take a few rounds with ya, and then before ya know it, we'll have another whelp. We just repeat that until I have a loyal little army of goblin boys."

"You can't," Esmeralda said through clenched teeth. Her breasts were still dripping, and based on the wetness pooling around her butt, they weren't the only part of her that was.

"I can't?" The alchemist asked, incredulously, "sweetheart, I already have." She reached down and grabbed one of Esmeralda's swollen breasts. She squeezed it so hard that milk sprayed into the air. Esmeralda's head lolled back and she panted like a dog. It was so humiliating, but it felt so incredibly good. She knew she was being used, that she was becoming something new and bizarre and different, so that this azure-headed devil could enact her evil scheme. But, still. Being milked by her strong, talented hands was one of the greatest pleasures she'd ever known.

"But, don't worry," the villain continued, "yer not to be alone in this process. I'll be here to shepherd ya. Make sure our growing goblin gang is getting the right nutrients, taking care of ya. Yer not the only one whose body will change." With a nod, she produced yet another potion. Rather than feed it to Esmeralda, however, the alchemist pulled the stopper, then drank the whole thing, herself. She licked her lips, then, with a sadistic smile, she added, "This is gonna be fun."

Esmeralda watched in horrified confusion as the blue haired woman frantically stripped her clothes off. She tossed her apron, shrugged out of her sleeveless top, dropped her trousers, all with an unexpected urgency. Within seconds she was as naked as Esmeralda. The candlelight highlighted the sculpted definition of her toned, muscular body, but it wasn't her thick biceps, or pronounced abs that drew Esmeralda's attention.

"Ya like that?" The alchemist asked with a cocky smirk, reaching towards her crotch. Hanging just over her vagina, protruding from her bare pubic area, was a penis. She grabbed it, and began to stroke it as she continued to ogle Esmeralda's body. "Took me years to figure out this brew. It's my magnum opus. Not only does it give me this wonderful hog," the penis continued to grow with each stroke, gaining incredible length as she explained, "but instead of impregnating, my seed is incredibly dense in minerals and nutrients, and can absorb through yer membranes. I can give ya everything you and the baby need to thrive. Just by fucking you."

The blue haired demon slapped her thick cock against Esmeralda's wet opening, and that alone was almost enough to cause her to orgasm. The aphrodisiac was so powerful that any touch was like a lover's caress, every sensation was heightened multiple times. The alchemist rubbed the tip of her cock back and forth against Esmeralda's pussy, preparing them both by spreading the abundant slickness. Esmeralda cooed with need, overeager for the impending penetration.

Esmeralda didn't want this. She knew that, somewhere in the back of her mind. But as that deliciously thick cock rubbed against her, she couldn't bear the thought of resisting. Even if she weren't bound, her body wouldn't let her flee or fight back. She had grown beyond urge or a desire, she needed that cock. It was absolutely imperative to be speared on its length, fucked silly while also being milked. Just the thought of those rough hands squeezing her overladen breasts while her burning pussy was rammed overrode any rational thought she might have had. She would be drained, and filled, or she simply wouldn't live any long.

The alchemist thrust into Esmeralda, and the artificer came. It was explosive, in more ways than one, starting with the gush of wetness that splashed out as they fully coupled. From there, euphoria rocketed through her, clenching her core, making her pulse blow up, and ending in an orgasmic scream that left her mildly protesting brain empty of any thought except serenity.

"Oh, ya like that?" The blue haired lothario growled into her ear. It was so cocksure, and brash, but it was also so incredibly hot. "I'm gonna do that a whole bunch more."

"Please… More…" Esmeralda begged. The alchemist obeyed. Gripping Esmeralda's already growing waist, the alchemist thrust into her again, and again, setting a rhythm that would've been overwhelming under normal circumstances. Whether because of the aphrodisiac or the pain reliever, or some other drug in that delightful tincture, Esmeralda never grew overly sensitive after her orgasm. She came, and then as the magical cock continued to pound into her deliciously constricting cunt, she began brewing another amazing orgasm immediately. By her third climax, Esmeralda's ass was wading in a lake of her own juices, and she was bobbing on it, trying to get that dick even deeper.

"Fuck," the blue hair groaned. Her fingers flexed on Esmeralda's hips, and that was almost enough to send her blasting off again. "You're so fucking hot. This is gonna be the best couple'a months of my life."

"My titsssss…" Esmeralda hissed through yet another orgasm. She'd had so many that they were losing all meaning. Life was losing all meaning. She never wanted this to end; she never wanted to not be coming ever again. "Milk my tits!"

The alchemist was very obliging. Her hands flew from Esmeralda's hips as if she'd been waiting for this moment. Her fingers sank so deep into Esmeralda's heaving bosoms that they risked being lost. Milk sprayed in every direction. Like a rainstorm, it drizzled over the alchemist. Running down her face, over her own bouncing breasts, and through the ducts formed around her well defined muscles. She was quickly painted in the fluid, but, even still, she didn't relent. Hunching forward, she took one of Esmeralda's leaking nipples into her mouth and sucked while massaging and squeezing her breast.

Esmeralda came.

It was her dozenth, at least, but it was different. More potent. More powerful. With the alchemist's mouth forming a vortex over her nipple, and her tongue dancing over every sensitive inch of Esmeralda's areola, all while her hands squeezed her teets like she was a cow, she hit the very ceiling of pleasure. Then, burst through it.

Esmeralda cried out in superlative bliss, then collapsed. Her head lolled back, eyes unfocused, and brain fully switched off. She lost her last tether to reality, transforming into an insensate piece of fuck meat. And the alchemist kept fucking. Esmeralda didn't feel when her blue haired fiend finally came inside her. She wasn't aware when the other woman pulled out, toweled off, and left. The gulf between her conscious mind and the horrors of reality was so immense she couldn't perceive its existence. There was simply her and the endless sea of ecstasy she was drowning in.

***

Esmeralda awoke one morning with a hazy start. She didn't know if it was the next day or a week later; she had no real way to parse the time. Her arms and legs were sore from being held immobile for hours—or days—but, mostly, she wasn't in pain. Despite the rough treatment, her vagina wasn't chaffed, and her tits weren't sore. Truly, the worst of it was the now cold puddle of sexual fluids her ass was marinating in.

The artificer spared a glance down at her body, hopeful that things had mostly returned to normal. Those hopes shattered as she beheld even more change. Her breasts were still massive, only now her nipples had grown many shades darker. Also, both had been pierced while she was passed out—little golden hoops dangled down past both of her areolas. Milk dripped and dropped off her fresh piercings, but that small amount wasn't much relief; her breasts had produced so much since she was last milked and the pressure build up was almost painful. Her chest wasn't the only part of her that had changed, though. Her belly had swollen considerably, and she now looked inarguably pregnant. Compared to a typical pregnancy, she looked many months along, possibly in her last trimester. Her hips, thighs, and butt had also become noticeably thicker, and more round. Enough so that the bindings holding her legs were uncomfortably tight, now. She felt unrecognizable. She was no longer herself in so many ways.

"Mornin'," the alchemist said as she strolled into Esmeralda's view. She wore a loose pair of trousers, and sleeveless top that wasn't closed up the front; Esmeralda could see her abs, and occasionally even her bare breasts, as she walked over and began inspecting her. "Last night was pretty amazing, huh?"

Last night… That meant that all this growth had happened over the course of hours. Her round belly, her thick hips, her swollen and full breasts. They'd been drained dry, and then refilled, in just one night. It seemed impossible.

"Last night?" Esmeralda croaked. Her mouth and throat were so dry. It made sense, she had to have leaked out every last drop of moisture she had, whether from her tits or her pussy. "But… but… I'm so… Big…"

"Here," the alchemist moved to put a canteen to Esmeralda's lips. She clenched her mouth shut and turned her head away. She didn't want to be drugged again. She didn't want to lose sight of reality; even if it were a horror-show, things would only get worse if she let herself go that far again. "It's just water. Promise."

Esmeralda didn't trust the woman an ounce, but she burned with dehydration. Reluctantly, she turned back and parted her lips. The water was cool, and she could feel it revitalizing her as it washed down. She gulped greedily, her thirst insatiable, as the alchemist explained.

"Yeah, ya grew mighty thick overnight," she rubbed Esmeralda's belly tenderly while she spoke. Esmeralda hated it, and wanted to repel any touch, any affection, but she needed the water too desperately to resist just now. "After ya passed out, I shot a bunch into ya. I've never had a penis before. Those things just never want to stop. I didn't even take an aphrodisiac—just a refractory aid—and I couldn't get enough of you. And, since my cum is all nutrients our baby needs, I figured there was no harm in filling ya all the way to the brim."

The canteen went dry, and it took incredible effort to not vomit all the water back up. She had called it "our baby" as if Esmeralda had any say. As if she were anything but a living incubator and sex toy for the depraved alchemist.

"I think it all worked out," she continued. Her gentle tummy caresses shifted slightly. They felt less sweet, less soft, and more urgent. A need was growing in her, and it was apparent just from the way her hands touched Esmeralda's body. "Just one more session like that and our perfect baby goblin oughtta slip outta ya tonight." Her hand traveled up the swell of her stomach until it cupped one of her overladen breasts.

"Do ya like 'em?" she asked. Esmeralda didn't need to ask what she meant, the gleam of her golden nipple rings glinted in her captor's lusty gaze. She licked her lips, before explaining, "I wanted ya to look more cow-like, and I figure nipples would be sexier than nose."

"They're so full," Esmeralda dodged the question. "Would you… please…"

A burning thirst flared in the blue haired woman's eyes. She gave one breast a light squeeze, and a gently tug. A small stream of milk tricked out, running down the golden hoop. The alchemist leaned down, and took the nipple into her mouth.

It would be a lie for Esmeralda to say she didn't enjoy the feeling. The pressure on her chest was unlike anything she'd ever felt, and any relief was welcome. But, the draining wasn't the only pleasurable part of it. Even though she didn't want the attention, the other woman's eager, excited tongue still felt good. The piercings that were forced onto her rattled with every pass, occasionally bouncing off teeth as they were playfully flicked about, and each impact was a surprisingly exhilarating jolt. As the other woman suckled and squeezed, warmth started to build up somewhere deep within her incredibly oversexed body.

Her traitorous, unrecognizable body.

"Please," she begged, "release me. Let me go." The alchemist lifted her head, a ring of milk glistening around her mouth. She looked apologetic, but made no move to remove Esmeralda's bonds.

"I wish I could," she said, sounding more remorseful than she actually was, "but I can't. This is too perfect to let it slip through my fingers."

"You're a monster," Esmeralda called the blue haired bitch what she truly was.

"I'm an opportunist," the alchemist explained as she turned and stepped towards her work desk. A new array of potions sat in a row on its surface. "You're the real monster, if the rumors are true." She took the first potion and downed it in one gulp. She breathed out a satisfied "ahh" before grabbing the next one. "Indiscriminate slaughter, corpse desecration, actively equipping monsters and undead with powerful magical items. Your list of crimes is immense."

The alchemist stood between Esmeralda's parted, lifted legs. Removing the stopper from the potion, she made to pour it into Esmeralda's mouth like she had with the water before. The artificer turned her head, again.

"I'm about to fuck ya. Raw. Unrelenting. For hours." Her hazel eyes were hard. It was difficult to untangle the very human concern from the villainous threat in her voice. They both were there in equal measure. "Without this potion ye'll feel every thrust, ye'll be aware of every drop of cum, ye'll remember every selfish thing I do to ya. Trust me. Ya want this." Begrudgingly, Esmeralda consented. Turning her head back, she parted her lips just enough to let the other woman pour the liquid slowly.

The potion tingled as it filled her mouth. Whether through magic or simple mundane ingredients, Esmeralda could feel the potency the second it touched her tongue. She couldn't do this. She couldn't willingly become the mindless fuck-slut meat hole that she had become last night. Not by her own choice.

Esmeralda spat out the drugged tincture in a foamy spray. Droplets misted the alchemist's face, staining her loosely hanging shirt before splashing on the floor. The alchemist's green eyes burned with anger, but she didn't lash out or strike Esmeralda. She simply shrugged out of her top, wiped her face dry, and dropped it in a crumpled heap. She sighed, then unbuttoned her trousers and let them fall to the floor.

"I am trying to make this process as easy as I can for ya," she explained. She was clearly trying to sound sympathetic to Esmeralda's plight, but she really just sounded psychotic. Strapped to some sort of hand-crafted fuck table, Esmeralda could not make herself see a hint of empathy in the other woman. Despite her words, she only saw Esmeralda as an object. A tool to use for her own whims.

Esmeralda realized in a striking moment of revelation that she'd done her own share of objectifying. She'd used countless creatures' lives for her own ends, without thought or consideration for their desires. She felt the smallest pang of sorrow, but had to push it down deep. Now wasn't the time for remorse.

"The potion is most effective when ingested, but if ya wanna be a brat, ya can absorb it down here," rolling her eyes, the alchemist poured the remaining potion straight onto Esmeralda's pelvis. It filtered through her pubic hair, some of the curly white strands picking up its rosy hue, before the remainder dribbled over the opening of her sex. "Maybe I'll brew tomorrow's dose as an enema," she grumbled bitterly, before adding, "and fuck ya up the ass until ya beg for mercy."

The alchemist rubbed her cock into the potion dregs, and spread them like lube across her opening. Immediately, Esmeralda could feel the tingle of the powerful drugs as they started to work. She grew wet almost instantly, and the alchemist's cock easily slipped between her tingling, ready lips.

"Last time, that was enough fer ya to come," the alchemist said once her cock was fully buried. "Ya could be halfway to yer second O, if ye'd just behaved."

"Go fuck yourself," Esmeralda growled. Her whole body was growing flush, and she was already panting. She wanted to resist, but it all felt so good.

"You first," the alchemist said. She started frantically thrusting into Esmeralda, starting at a brutal pace that stirred up her insides. It was so much, so fast, and as the blue haired woman smashed her milky tits together and put both nipples into her mouth at the same time, Esmeralda very nearly came.

Clenching her eyes shut, biting her lip, Esmeralda strained against her impending orgasm. It was inevitable, but still she fought. A gasp. A grunt. Her breath caught. She was so close. A sound, somewhere outside the red brick building caught her attention. The distraction gave her something else to focus on. The alchemist didn't seem to hear, or at least she didn't react. She just kept sucking and fucking. She let Esmeralda's tits go, and they joined the frenzied bounce of her ferocious fucking. Esmeralda barely noticed, she was trying to look past her shoulder to see what was happening.

The door of the apothecary burst inward in a splintering eruption. Multiple figures rushed in, speaking to each other as they assessed the situation. Esmeralda couldn't parse their words over the wet slap of their bodies colliding. The alchemist's pace continued, entirely undisturbed. She was so focused, so zoned in on fucking Esmeralda, that she was fully disconnected from the world. The newcomers came to a consensus, one of their number stepping forward with sword drawn.

Blood sprayed everywhere as the blade sliced through the alchemist's neck. Even without her head, her body continued to buck and thrust. To Esmeralda's shamed astonishment, the decapitated body climaxed, shooting a final load of cum inside of her, before it finally stilled, then collapsed to the floor in a lifeless heap. With her blue haired captor dispatched, Esmeralda could finally see who had come to her rescue. Three horrified faces stared down at her. With her arms over her head, and her legs spread wide, they could see everything. Her sagging, leaking breasts, her round pregnant belly, her cum filled pussy. There wasn't even a shadow to give her the illusion of modesty.

With a chorus of swears, all three heads turned away.

"I'm sorry," an elven woman, dressed in white and gold robes, said. Her voice cracked, and she sounded close to tears. "I'm so so sorry."

"Absolutely vile," her companion said. Esmeralda had never seen anything like him. He was vaguely human shaped, but looked like he was made of a carved orange-yellow stone. His eyes were emeralds socketed into his smooth, flat face. He looked down at the body of the alchemist on the floor. Despite his nearly featureless countenance, his disgust was evident.

The third member of the trio took a moment before he turned back to Esmeralda. He looked right into her eyes. His face was a burning, blushing red that nearly matched the crimson enameling of his armor. His copper hair seemed to flash in the candlelight. He looked overcome, her plight clearly bothering him a great deal.

"I'm sorry," he said resolutely. "I wish we'd gotten here sooner. That we might have prevented this atrocity that's befallen you. But know that she'll never hurt you again. She'll never hurt anyone again. The Alchemist of the Bramble Mire is gone. For good."

It took a moment for it all to set in. She was saved. The alchemist was dead. She hadn't given birth to the goblin, and she never would. She was freed from the nightmare of the last few days.

"Laen, see if you can find her something to cover up with. Feldspar, see if you can't figure out the chains around her ankles," the man in red directed. He must be the leader, his natural charisma and ease with command was evident, even when disturbed by what he saw. His sword flashed, and Esmeralda's hands fell free. She rubbed her wrists and tried to work the soreness out of her arms, but it would be a long time before they felt normal again. It might be forever before the rest of her ever felt normal again.

The rockman—Feldspar, apparently—freed her legs, and Esmeralda immediately pushed herself off the fuck chair and onto her feet.

Her legs gave out the second she tried to put any weight on them.

"Whoa, there," the red warrior cautioned, catching her before she fully collapsed to the floor. "Take it slow. There's no rush." While he was supporting her, the elf returned with a rough spun brown cloak. It was scratchy, and uncomfortable on her overly sensitive skin. She had grown used to expensive, silky garments, and custom tailored outfits, and this cheap, patchy scrap was as far from her usual that it was almost comical. And yet, she had never been more thankful for anything in her life.

"There is," Esmeralda said grimly. "I need fantishade. Before it's too late."

"Fantishade?!" The warrior exclaimed. "But isn't that–"

"It is," the elf curtly cut him off before he could finish the idea. "Here," she said, far more gently, to Esmeralda. She was already holding the clay jar marked "fantishade," and passed it to her without any judgment or explanation. It was understood. "Take as much as you need. I'll make the process as painless as magic can."

"Thank you," Esmeralda whispered, on the verge of tears. She'd never experienced such kindness and understanding before. Hers was a life of power and threats and violence, and with the escalation of the last few days she had almost forgotten what empathy and humanity looked like.

** ** **

Hours later—after the trio of adventurers had collected any useful potions that remained, and Esmeralda had gathered up any piece of clothing that might possibly fit over her incredibly altered body—the four stood outside the apothecary as the building burned. The adventurers thought it best to destroy any notes or creations the alchemist had stashed away; Esmeralda was just happy to purge the den of evil, and the memories it created.

She'd changed in her brief captivity. So much so that she didn't recognize her face or body. Where before she had been lean and angular, she was now thick and round. Her once sharp features were soft. She had changed so severely that the adventurers hadn't even realized she was the notorious Witch-Necromancer. But her metamorphosis wasn't simply physical, she felt different emotionally, as well. She didn't know who the new her was, exactly, but it seemed fitting that the old her was laid to rest in a burning pyre.

"We sort of skipped over formal introductions, earlier," the warrior in red said, breaking the somber silence of the burning fire. "I'm Alfric. Warrior, sell-sword, leader. My companions are Laen, our healer and mage, and Feldspar, the muscle." Calling the man made of rocks "the muscle" must've been a common joke, because the group chuckled knowingly when he said it. It was kind of charming. "What should we call you?"

"I'm…" she hesitated. If she called herself Esmeralda Wynne, the Witch-Necromancer, she'd find herself back in bondage before the embers of the apothecary were cold. Alfric and his crew would likely be more gentle than the alchemist, or Torpe and the goblins, but she couldn't expect such hospitality from whichever constabulary they turned her in to. "Esme," she decided, "you can call me Esme."

"Great," Alfric said, genuinely. "Well, Esme, we were discussing plans, and we think it shouldn't be too much of a burden to escort you to Arborrest. It's only–"

"No!" Esme shouted, suddenly. All three of the adventurers flinched, looking at her in startled surprise. She hadn't meant to react so strongly, but she also couldn't possibly go to Arborrest. Her crimes were numerous, and well documented; if she were found, the punishment would be severe. And Arborrest, the town closest to her one-time stronghold, would be the least safe place in the whole world. She couldn't go there. Ever.

"I… I…" Esme couldn't tell the truth. Revealing that she was Wanted was strictly out of the question. "I wouldn't be safe in Arborrest. I don't… I don't know if I'll ever feel safe without you." While not the whole truth, nothing she had said was a lie. Even with the adventurers, she wasn't sure she'd ever feel safe again.

"Esme," Laen chimed in. There was an obvious pity in her voice as she explained, "We're adventurers. Ours is the most dangerous profession you can have. I understand why you might think we can always protect you, but if we're in a dungeon, fighting for our lives, you would only be a liability. You'd not only be endangering your life, but all of ours, as well. We can't take on such a risk. I'm sorry."

Alfric put his hand on her shoulder, silently agreeing with Laen's words. The elf and the rockman turned back to their preparations, the matter was settled. They'd all written her off. Esme couldn't give up so easily. For her, it was literally life or death.

"I wouldn't be a liability," as she said the words, all three turned to her with curiosity in their eyes. "Not exactly… I don't have the adventuring experience that you all have, for sure, but I'm not without my own talents. I'm an accomplished artificer. I can craft wondrous, powerful items. I might slow you down, sure, but I promise I'll be more of an asset than a risk." Esme put on her most sympathetic expression, then pled, "Please. Don't discard me so easily. Let me come with you. Please." She hadn't had much occasion to beg in her life, but after the last few days, it came naturally to her. Just one more thing in the large pile of changes.

The three adventurers shared a look. A wordless conversation happened between their eyes in an instant. It only lasted a second or two, but that silent stretch felt like a lifetime. Finally, Alfric turned back to her and nodded.

"It's worth a try, I think," he said, squeezing her shoulder. "No promises, of course. You know the dangers. But, if you'd rather slum it with us, clearing out orc dens and chasing villains to the ends of the known world rather than opening up a magic shop in some major city, I think we'd be fools to turn you down."

"But," Laen added, clearly the realist to Alfric's optimist, "If the risk becomes too great, or you prove too burdensome, we will leave you in the next town. We've run lean and fast for a while now. I have overwhelming sympathy for your situation, but we can't let someone jeopardize our whole way of life."

Feldspar seemed to roll his emerald eyes at Laen's soft threat.

"Welcome to the team," he said. And, just like that, she'd found a new home.

***

Orcs poured out of the underground cavern in a savage green cascade. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of the violent brutes charged the trio of adventurers, hateful bloodlust twisting and contorting their inhuman faces. The horde crashed into the vanguard, and shattered. The three adventurers worked in perfect tandem, like an expertly crafted watch. And, despite having seen this dance more times than she cared to count over the last few months, Esme was enraptured by the display. Even with, or perhaps especially because of, her contributions to the group.

Alfric was a sanguine blur in his red plated armor; the runic blade she'd crafted for him granting him speed that bordered on teleportation when he truly got moving. The elven mage Laen, sporting mana gem earrings inscribed with aether, not only looked stylish, but also had near limitless casting potential; so long as there was lifeforce on the planet, she could weave spells from it. Finally, there was Feldspar, the bulwark of the party. Being a rockman, he didn't use traditional arms and armor, so Esme had to be truly creative when it came to his enchantments. Each of his stoney knuckles bore a golden, glowing glyph. His punches already hit like a ballista, and, when they connected, her glyphs erupted in a wall of concussive force.

They were only three, but they could stand up to the might of an entire army, now that she had outfitted them.

Esme stood well behind her companions. Her talents were useless once the fighting actually began, and she had quickly learned to keep her distance during encounters. She didn't even hold a weapon; instead of sword or shield, she clutched a handbell. If an enemy got near her, she simply had to ring the bell and Alfric would be beside her before the first chime could echo. And if that still wasn't fast enough, she'd also inscribed a shield spell to it. A single command word, and she'd be surrounded by an impenetrable field of force. Despite being a mile underground, in a cavern filled with barbaric, marauding orcs, Esme felt the safest she ever had.

When she'd met the three adventurers she wasn't sure she'd ever feel safe again.

A scrabbling sound from a side corridor stole her attention away from the battle. A group of goblins, casually chittering in their native tongue, walked towards her, seemingly oblivious to the skirmish happening just a short distance away. The goblins' attention finally caught on her, and as Esme locked eyes with one of the small, green savages, every single muscle in her body locked up. Reflected in the milky yellow of those eyes, she saw her fear, her weakness, and her trauma. She saw a thousand horrors visited, and relived them all in an instant.

Her whole being froze in terror, but the goblins weren't equally afflicted. Unfazed, the group advanced on her, drawing their wicked, cruel weapons. The sounds of battle faded as she watched them approach. Her friends were a million miles away. It was just the goblins, and her. And the crushing weight of her haunted past. One of the creatures leapt at her, his twisted, asymmetrical dagger plunging straight for her stomach.

Esme hadn't realized she was holding her breath until the most pitiful cry squeezed out of her empty lungs. With the blade caught in her robes, she fell to the ground in a heap, while the goblins danced and cheered their victory fanfare. The handbell, dropped in the tumult, rang out dully as it hit the earthen floor, but that sound was more than enough to alert Alfric.

"Esme!" He screamed from an insurmountable distance. Then, before his shout even reached her, he was smashing into the goblins, sword-first. Like a bolt of lightning, he streaked through the small creatures, leaving amputations and dead bodies in his wake. Then he was beside her, holding her hand, lifting her head. Horrified, he looked down at her body, as her robes grew dark, and wet. "Please tell me you're okay. Please tell me this isn't bad."

"I… seem to have sprung a leak," she said, weakly.

"Don't joke," he said, his voice overburdened with concern, "you better not be joking if you're actually hurt."

"I'm fine," she assured him, as she regained her bearings. She pulled the serpentine blade out of her stomach, a few rings of chain mail coming out with it. Thankfully, her chain undershirt was enchanted to regrow lost links; it would be good as new by morning's first light. Her robes would need a wash and a patch, though. "Guess I'm a little past due for a milking, huh," she added, staring down at her milk-soaked robes.

"I… uh… well…" he stammered, his face blushing a red as bright as his breastplate. He got very awkward anytime the subject of her lactating breasts came up. It was kind of adorable.

"Thanks for the save," Esme changed the subject with a smile. "Now get back to it, before Laen accuses you of babying me."

"Right!" He said. Then, retrieving her bell and handing it back to her, he added, "Next time, try to ring it before you get stabbed." He gave her a half second of his lopsided smile, then he was a blur, rejoining the battle.

** ** **

A few hours later, the party finally got a moment to relax. Sitting in a small clearing in the forest that surrounded the orcs' grotto, they enjoyed the day's final dregs of sunlight. Feldspar tended to dinner over a small campfire. Apparently, he'd only ever eaten to sustain himself before meeting Laen and Alfric, but after they started traveling together he had become a self-styled gourmand. Esme truly appreciated his talent at cooking. She sat cross-legged on a patch of grass just a few feet from the fire, wearing a camisole and skirts, as she sewed the hole in her robes shut. Laen, who sat on a stump beside her, watched in quiet amazement as the chain mail shirt slowly knit itself back together right before her eyes.

"Simply astounding," she said as the rings interlocked on their own accord. Turning to Esme, she said, "Honestly, I expected to leave you behind in the first town we passed through. But, now, I couldn't imagine this party without you. You've truly become one of the family."

Esme didn't know how to respond. It was so kind, so touching. She'd never felt so welcomed in all her life, and by such a lovely group of people. She was really, honestly lucky. Tears formed at the corner of her eyes, a happy sting she could barely resist.

"I always knew she'd be one of the team," Alfric said with a smile.

"You just had a crush on her, mate," Feldspar threw over his shoulder without even turning toward to them.

"Wuh… Wuh… bu-bu-bu-" Alfric stuttered, his face turning his usual scarlet. Without his armor to match it, it was even more adorably humanizing. "I-I-I mean… She's pretty—of course—but… given the circumstances of our first meeting, I never thought… that is to say, I would never presume…"

"We're just happy you like us as much as we like you," Laen said, far more coherent than their usually charismatic leader could. He was normally so cool and calm, but his fidgety discomfort around Esme really broadcast his feelings. She found it quite charming. Flustering someone out of affection felt far more empowering than doing so out of fear; she'd experienced the second a lot more, but didn't miss it even a bit.

"There's nowhere I'd rather be," Esme confessed. "Anyway," she said as she finished patching up her robe and stood up, "I need to wash these. And myself. I'll be back before it gets too dark." She took just a few steps outside the semicircle they sat in, then paused. Looking back, she added, "I wouldn't mind a little company, if you'd like to join me, Alfric." With wide eyes, the red warrior scrambled to his feet and was beside her faster than if he'd been holding his speed-enchanted sword. Sharing a smile, the two walked into the woods together, followed by the knowing chuckles of the pair they left behind.

** ** **

The lake was only a short walk from the campsite, but the silent trek was absolutely loaded with an excited tension. Esme felt like she had electricity running wild just under her skin. Their hands hovered next to each other, and she felt both drawn to hold his, yet afraid to at the same time. She'd been so confident about inviting him to bathe with her, but now she was wretchedly giddy about even touching him. Her electric insides were twisted into knots. And knowing how she felt, she knew it was easily ten times worse for him.

"So… uhh…" he said, once they stood at the edge of the water. It was the first words spoken since they'd left the campsite. "What's the order of operations here?" His hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, and he stared at the calm surface of the lake, rather than at her. Oh yeah, he was feeling it. They were nearly a decade past their teens, but they weren't acting like it. She was so awash in overwhelming emotions that it certainly felt like she was a teenager again.

She needed to do something before the pressure made them both explode.

"Usually, I wash my clothes first," she said, then before she could let a doubt creep into her mind, she pulled her camisole off. If there was any worry that it was too brash or forward, the look on his face when Alfric turned away from the lake to look at her alleviated those fears. He stared at her reverentially, like she were some holy idol to be worshiped. The look in his eye, the way his mouth hung half open, made her feel like a goddess.

Esme had struggled with her self image ever since the trio had saved her. She used to be so thin. She was lithe, like a jungle cat. But, the alchemist had changed that. Now, she was curvy. Rounded. Fat. Her once sleek body now sagged. Her supernaturally smooth skin was now disrupted with jagged stretch marks. She didn't love her reflection.

But, when Alfric looked at her, she felt like maybe she should.

That was how things had been with them since the first day. He was so kind and compassionate; gentle when she needed, but firm when it was called for. Esme had struggled at first with the adventuring lifestyle. It was all a bit rougher than she'd expected. All the walking, and sleeping on the ground were obvious, but she'd never considered how much effort it would take to feed everyone, or how much colder a lake bath was than a tub one. When her clothes were too scratchy or her feet were sore, Alfric was quick to take her mind off it with a joke or a story. When she didn't think she was going to make it, and she was ready to give up, his was the first hand that lifted her back up.

After the alchemist, she never thought she'd want sex again; she never thought that she would even be capable of being aroused in any way. She hadn't touched herself or had even a fleeting fantasy in months. But, as she unbuttoned her skirts and watched his eyes trail down to her body, Esme wondered how she'd waited this long. She and Alfric belonged together, and she was finally ready to admit it. This was long past due. She hooked her thumbs through the waist of her panties—the last article she was wearing—then fixed him with a sassy smile.

"You going to take anything off, or am I putting on a solo show?" She teased. With a smooth bend, she stripped her last covering fully off. When she rose back up, he hadn't moved a muscle. He stood frozen like a statue, eyes wide as he beheld her. All of her. It was mildly annoying she was completely naked and he hadn't even pulled off one boot, but that burning look he gave her melted away any negativity she might have inside. His hungry gaze was intoxicating. Plus, if he didn't hurry she'd just bathe and wash without him. Scooping up her clothes, Esme joked, "If you're fine just looking, stay on the shore. If you wanna touch, you'll have to join me in the water," and jumped into the lake.

Alfric barely managed to pull his boots off before he dove in after her, and they both surfaced giggling like children. They washed their clothes together in the most awkward, fun, surprisingly chaste way two naked people could. As they hung everything off nearby tree branches to dry, Alfric kept peeking at her in the most adorable way. He usually blushed when she looked his way, but as she caught his shy, playful glances, she found her own face growing flush with heat.

"Okay… So, clothes first. Check," he listed once everything was hanging, "Umm… what's second?"

"Now, I squeeze as much of this cursed milk out of my boobs as I can," Esme said with mild frustration.

"Oh," Alfric said. Esme watched his throat work a dry swallow. This would be fun. Without taking her eyes off him, she grabbed her right breast with one hand, and gave it a little squeeze. Milk trickled from her nipple, twirling around the golden ring that pierced it before dribbling down her boob in white rivulets and dripping to the ground. Biting her lip seductively, she brought her other hand up to join the first. Kneading her chest with both, the flow increased until a steady stream of milk poured from her. Alfric's heart was beating so furiously she could almost count the pulses in his neck vein by sight. Normally, that was a pretty sure sign that he was aroused, but since he was naked, she had a far more accurate indicator.

There was no doubt about how much he was enjoying this.

"Do you… want to help?" His eyes flared with need as she asked.

"Can I?" He questioned, but he was already reaching for her before she replied.

"I'd love if you did."

Alfric grabbed her left breast with both hands. Excitedly, he held his breath for just a moment, then he squeezed.

Milk sprayed like a broken fountain. It arched so high it hit leaves in the nearby trees. It rained down on his face and chest, and showered the grass at their feet. It was so abrupt and surprising he immediately let go, and took a half step back.

"Careful there, crusher," she teased. "It wants to come out. You just need to massage it. Gently."

A little nervous, he reached for her again. Slowly, as if her tit had bit him. Gods. Why did she find this dork so adorable. Gently, he grabbed her again. Spreading all of his fingers wide, he delicately squished and kneaded her sensitive breast. His strong hands worked the second stream until it matched the first. It was nice, and the soft ministrations of his tender touches felt heavenly.

Esme cooed. This was so nice. So peaceful. The relief of draining her overloaded breasts. The somber warmth of the setting sun. The eager, needy heat radiating off of Alfric as he touched her for the first time as something other than a friend. This was bliss. This was the serenity she never knew she was missing, before she met him.

The streams of milk slowed to a thin trickle. She was almost sad it was over, even though it was only a taste of the delights they would share this evening.

"If you can find the will to let go," Esme nearly whispered the words to avoid startling him, as he seemed so incredibly focused on her breasts that the whole world must've ceased to exist in his eyes, "we can move onto the real reason we came out here."

"We can?" He asked with a gasp.

"Of course," she said with a girlish giggle, running a finger across his chest in a playful echo of his hands on hers. "I've been dreaming about taking a bath all day."

"Oh, right." He looked absolutely crestfallen. She enjoyed teasing him, and part of her wanted to string him along further, but seeing his raging lust tempered with impatient disappointment pulled on her heart more than she'd ever expected. She didn't want to leave him upset, even just a little, even just for a second.

"What did you think I meant?" She whispered the question. She leaned towards him, causing all his focus to go to her wickedly grinning face, while her hand sneaked out of sight. "Was it something… dirty?" She wrapped her fingers around his erection. "Did you think I invited you out here to tempt you?" She slowly stroked his length as she whispered, her voice growing softer and softer as her mouth neared his ear. "Did you think I wanted to seduce you, Alfric?" Her lips brushed his earlobe, her warm breath painting the side of his head with each word. She brought her free hand up to his neck, stretching her fingers across his nape possessively as she continued to work his cock with her other hand. "Did you want to fuck me, you naughty boy?"

"Yesss," he hissed, his eager, burning desire rushing out like steam from a kettle. She realized she'd lost track of his hands when they gripped her ass. He pulled her even closer, his fingers sinking into her plump cheeks as he growled, "I need you. More than air. More than life itself. Esme, I. Need. You."

She squeezed the base of his penis, pulling a wanton groan out of him.

"Then maybe the bath can wait until we have something to wash off," she purred the words into his ear. With another giggle, she sank to her knees on the soft grass in front of him.

Esme hesitated once she was eye level with his cock. She felt her past trauma rise up within her, like boiling bile bubbling up from her stomach. She saw his posture stiffen as he recognized her reluctance. He'd just said he needed her, and now she was struggling. Would he pressure her? Would he guilt, or coerce her?

If she decided she wasn't ready, would he force himself on her?

"Esme. I'm sorry. If you're not–" he cut off in a sharp gasp as her mouth enveloped his entire erection. He wasn't like the monsters that had attacked her. He wasn't like anyone she'd ever known. He was exactly what she needed. She grabbed the base of his cock, again, stroking it while her mouth sloppily served the other half. "Fuuuck," he groaned, sinking his fingers into her short, white hair. The word sent a shiver through her. She'd made him feel that good. And she'd make him feel even better.

Esme dragged her tongue along the vein underneath his member as her mouth and hand traded places. Her palm rubbed his saliva-slick head as she wrapped her lips around him from one side. She hummed with delight, and as the sound reverberated through him, his whole body seemed to quake with it.

"I'm so close," he groaned huskily. "If you keep this up…" Esme nipped playfully at his balls as she reluctantly pulled back. It was so hard to slow down. She wanted to make him feel good. She loved the urgent way he spoke when he was in her mouth, or the lust leaden way he touched her. But, she also wanted more.

"Then I guess it's your turn," she directed. She shifted her weight back, unfolding her legs from beneath her, Esme leaned on one elbow. Then, with her other arm, she reached down and spread her bare, already glistening pussy. She'd never admit it, even under interrogation, but tonight wasn't some impulsive encounter. It wasn't spur-of-the-moment or unexpected in any way. She'd planned, and prepared. And hoped.

And, as he dove tongue-first into her, she knew it was all worth it. Alfric devoured her. If his eyes coveted, his mouth worshiped. His tongue was frenetic, plunging deep into her, spinning whirling circles around her clit, streaking up and down her entrance. It moved with toe-curling speed, and eye rolling precision. As his enchanting tongue inscribed pleasure magic across her, one hand slipped over her belly to grab her breast. He rolled her nipple between two fingers as he licked a picture perfect rune into her clitoris.

Two fingers pushed into her as he started etching the next glyph and gently pulled her milk-slick piercing, and that was the final component to unlock the spell. Esme nearly screamed as she came. The pressure of a half dozen pent up months exploded out of her mouth in an incoherent cry as her pussy clenched down on his fingers, refusing to let him leave her empty. She tore grass out in fistfuls and shut her eyes tight as wave after wave of pleasure crashed into her. Alfric groaned into her quavering wetness, and that was when she realized she was smothering him between her thighs. She released him, and he rose up and took a large, urgent breath.

"No fair," he mock-pouted, still breathing heavily. "I let you know when I was about to come."

"Don't joke," she echoed his words from earlier, "just shut up and fuck me." Alfric might've been the group's leader, but he didn't hesitate to follow her command. He thrust into her orgasming pussy and nearly set off a second climax. He felt so good. So right. He started a marvelous, gentle rhythm, careful not to pound her ass completely into the muddy grass, and she could feel the eager hunger in every thrust.

Alfric leaned into her, pressing his lips onto hers as he continued to drive into her. His hands took a breast apiece—which seemed greedy considering her tits dwarfed his hands—and rubbed and kneaded them as his tongue explored her mouth. He squeezed her nipples with delightful little tugs, and danced between her lips as he thrust, and she felt a second crescendo surge within her.

As Esme came the second time she had a realization. Alfric was terrible at following orders. He wasn't fucking her. He was making love to her. He was sweetly, lovingly orchestrating her pleasure. Esme moaned a guttural sound of ecstasy as he continued to grind deliciously inside her orgasming cunt. He was the worst.

Esme grabbed his head with both of her arms, turning it so she could breathe fire straight into his ear.

"Alfric," she moaned. She chased the word around the shell of his ear with the tip of her tongue. "I love you."

He stopped. Just for a fraction of a moment. A partial heartbeat. The briefest linger. Then he was swearing, and retreating.

"Fuck," he groaned. "Fuck shit. Shit fuck. Fuck. " Esme could feel his hot semen paint a haphazard streak down her inner thigh as he pulled out. Alfric reared back, looming over her on his knees, eyes wild. "Did you..?" He half-asked. He was breathing so hard it shook his whole body. His erection wasn't even fully gone, cum still dripping from the tip.

Esme bit her lip. Hard. Demurely, she nodded. She did. Whatever the rest of his question. She did.

"And you meant it?" He asked. His voice had a tinge of fear. As if he was worried she was teasing him like she always did. She wasn't going to get out of this without speaking. Regardless of how difficult—how permanent—those words would be.

"Alfric," she said his name, and knew there was no stopping this, and no going back. "You're unlike any man I've ever met."

"And you're unlike any woman I've ever known!" He was quick to reply. It was said with sweet sentiment. Lovingly. But it twisted and curdled in her ear.

"What, broken?" As she asked, she turned away. It was too much to look at him. To see him—the shining pillar of heroism and all that was good in the world—and to think of herself at the same time was misery. She didn't deserve him. She was a terrible person. A villainess undeserving of love, or tenderness, or even friendship. "Damaged? Haunted? Worthless?"

"Loving," he corrected her, turning her face so she had no choice but to look into his eyes. "Kind. Compassionate. Strong. Despite the horrors of your past, you still manage to think of others. You destroy evil, and do good. You're the strongest person I've ever met. If I went through half of what you went through, I'd run away. I'd break down. I'd hide from the world. But not you. You continue to help. To make the world a better place. Esme. I love you."

He took her hand in his own, and stared directly into her eyes. She could feel him willing the words into her, wishing his truth onto her. Could she really be those things? She was the Witch-Necromancer. A brutal, heartless overlord. Was she truly kind? Compassionate? She could see herself in his eyes. Not just her reflection, but also who he saw.

She recognized that woman.

She wasn't the Witch-Necromancer. The svelte tyrant who used magic to subjugate all who came before her. The merciless destroyer who would kill her own to hurt her enemy. Esmeralda Wynne. Not anymore. Now she was Esme. She was chubby. And thoughtful. And happy. She made jokes, and shared meals, and enjoyed the company of others. And if someone like Alfric thought she was good, that she was deserving of love, then maybe she was.

"I love you, too," she said, before pulling him down onto her in the biggest kiss she'd ever shared with anyone.