You lose track of time after what seems like an eternity.
“Oll right ya Zoon Lady boy. Its dinnah time fer yu” You wake from a half slumber and retreat to a corner of your cell, fearing for the worst. Two armored guards come in, and following by a third man, dressed in white with a tall cap. He is pushing a huge cart full of all kind of foods. You have never seen such a a huge variety of meats, breads, pastries and deserts. Your Zun survival instinct kicks in and tells you it is all perfectly edible, all though the food seems oddly shiny, but for some reason, that makes all the more compelling to you. The man in white begins to talk “first, vee have zee vild var pig, stoffed with ze smoked cheese, zen, ve have zee smoked cheese wrapped in cured var pig strips, glazed with zee huney buttur sauce. We have zee slow roasted 'arpy breast, stuffed wit a smaller 'arpy breast, stoffed wit 'arpy sausage. Meatballs in buttur sauce, 'ellbat goulash wit var pig lard, profiteroles with d’arc chocolat and real futa cream. Then we have the fried futa cream…wit…” “All right thats enough! YOU, don’t listen to him, just eat. Eat everything here. Eat it all or catch a beating” Says the other guard.The man in white looks dejected as three leave. You are momentarily stunned by the mountain of food.
You snap out of it and catch the tail end of a conversation happening down the hall.
"…as if the Zun weren’t hard enough to tell apart"
"…if the bishop likes them that way…thats the way she gets it"
"…oh she’ll get it all right"
"…gross dude…don’t even want to think about…that"
"…how do you think they even…I mean…there is just so much…skin"
"…I’m not listening…lalalalalalala"
*Rolling…
Rolling …
Rolling…
You have rolled a 20!
(“My First 20” -Achievement Unlocked- 20 Points)
*
You place your forehead to the window and stare intently into the obscured landscape…within minutes a massive, screeching bird slams into the window. The window does not even budge, as its head was against the glass as well, you briefly formed a mind meld and saw into its soul “What a dick” you think to yourself. You keep your forhead to the window for a few more minutes and again, a bird comes screeching in and slams into the window. Two asshole birds in a row. This is not normal. You try a third time and come to the inescapable conclusion that the birds in this area are a bunch of dicks. Birds are known for being dicks around steep cliffs and narrow passageways…but as far as you can see, there is nowhere to be knocked out of.
Oh certainly…that is umm…great…its just…you see…all of our doorknobs…they are actually being cleaned right now…so…I can’t really…
He suddenly gets up and runs to another room. You head a lot of shouting. "Quarrando nobios remmancar yos penisistos! Yazee! Yazee! Vaman ii pervas nobious jaqfecder!"
You hear many foot steps and doors opening and closing. The man returns slightly flustered,
“Right, so, you were saying you’d like to pay for 3 months up front?”
Rofl! I guess I’ll just go stare longingly into a mirror for a few hours before resuming my hunting of mensche-haters.
You spend hours loathing your mensche complexion before Dr Slamma arives to take you back down. You look at the tenderized lolu, who is struggling to stand like a new born calf. They manage to stumble to the table and chairs. Dr Slamma asks you if you are ready to go and you nod yes. As he begins to strap you into his pelvis harness, the lolu reaches into her lolu hole and produces a large crystal ball and places it on the table. 4 musical notes play and a large treasure chest begins to materialize. You can only stare in shock as she opens it and rays of light shine forth. “Heavensbridge!” you are slammed onto a hard, cold tile. “Heavensbridge!”"
You arrive at the base of the tower 6 hours later.
Your health has been quartered!
You notice your back feels scaly. You reach around and feel that indeed, it does seem like there seems to be a pattern there. The hard tiles of heavensbridge must have embossed a secret message on your naked body! However, you cannot decipher it.
My hunger is nigh uncontrollable, I haven’t eaten in what seems like days save for the horse meat and noodles. I know that there is some foul purpose to fatten my form, but I need to eat. The aroma from the futa cream is enticing. As I lean to get a better smell, my eyes begin to burn as if I had just cut into a rancid onion. I jerk away from fear of blindness from further exposure to the glistening desert tray. “Swine it is then,” I say, craving for a long sausage to wrap my lips around. As I reach for one of the huge shafts of meat, I feel a sudden shock of static from my fingertips. My snuggie has been rubbing against my naked body ever since I put i on…it must have been building up for some time. I reach out for a second time, “AGH!” I cry as another more powerful shock escapes from my body. I feel the power from my snuggie begin to build, emitting a waning aura. This food is…Evil. I must escape this place.
I feel weak, and not knowing how effective my magic will be, my execution will have to be flawless. I concentrate as hard as I can on the forbidden feast, as I feel the magic within begin to weaken. “Just a little more,” I tell myself with gritted teeth. I reach out and grab the cursed entree of evil, wincing from the pain of electricity violently flowing throughout my small body. “Nakedega…” I’m blown back to the wall across the cell. I rise to one knee but have no light to confirm if my spell was a success or not, “I hope this works.”
“ALL FINISHED BOYS, I’M READY FOR SECONDS”
“Looks like we got us a jester”
“I wuz gettin tired of smacking me wife 'round anyways…hardly puts up a fight anymore.”
“Alright Zoon Dog, we tried the easy waaah…what in HellsGate.” The light from the guards lanterns fills the room, and I breathe a sigh of relief. The entire cart of food, along with all of my clothes, are no longer visible.
“It takes more than one sausage to fill me up,” I say beckoning the two over.
“How did you eat so much so fast?”
“Forget about the food,” says the hornier of the two, removing his helmet and starting to move in on his prey.
“NO!” shouts the seemingly unfazed guard pulling his comrade back away from his prize. “She’s the bishop’s!”
“Damn, the bishop! She wants seconds, let’s it give to 'er!”
“The bishop would have our heads,” says the guard with over-developed sense of loyalty. With my window dwindling, I have to act, and he’ll be the first to go. With the two still arguing, I lunge at the loyal guard’s throat with my concealed dagger. It meets it’s target. Before the half-naked guard can go for his sword, I sling a handful of the futa cream in his face.
“AAAAAHHHH, MY EYES YOU BITCH!” The spell begins to fade, and the cart along with my clothes start to become visible again. A few moments later, and I’d have been exposed.
“Tell me what you know about this bishop, or you’ll be joining your friend.”
"Do yer worst clear-mage, humf, yuu’ll get yer’s soon enough."
I snatch the keyring from his loosened belt. “Perhaps. You know it would be ashamed to let all this food go to waste. Maybe I should let loose the troll down the hall on my way out. I hear they’ll eat…anything.” I pick up the lantern, along with the guards’ two swords, and start making my way to the door.
“Wait…” says the blind guard submitting, “what do you want to know?”
The crackling and fizzing of the Futa cream on the guards eyes ceases. He looks at you now with huge, glassy eyes. They are around a third of his face, and they are a deep, sparkling red the exact shade of his hair. Your stomach gurgles and it feels like a spigot has been opened, you can feel the massive meal you ate being sucked away, you stomach feels so empty like its going to collapse on itself. A few drops of futa cream, still on the side the guards face begin to almost glow to your eyes. You have to restrain yourself from licking it off his face right then and there. Pin pricks travel across your brain as the world begins to spin. You are enveloped by bright white stars and you become intensely aware of your breathing. Your nostrils flare as the almost overpowering scent of mulch comes from those few, tiny droplets of cream. You have never had anything so rich in your life…your mulch addiction comes back stronger than ever as the drug packed futa cream sends you on a terrifying body high.
“That…cream it was…so fresh…” you stammer…“where…“
The guards glassy eyes shimmer with fear
"WHERE DO YOU KEEP THE FUTAS” You scream as you slam his head against the wall
"I don’t…” He isn’t answering fast enough for you so you slam his head against the wall again, much harder this time.
“WHERE DO YOU KEEP THE FUTAS!!!” Again, with a brutal slam.
“usssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” he slurs as blood drips down his head
"GREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" you squeal as you fly into a fit of rage, slamming his head until it is just a pulpy mess.
You lick the last bit of cream, now pink with blood from his face. Your mouth is electrified. Several guards, alerted by the sound of a metal helmet being turned into a scrap have come running. “Nakedega…TWO!!!” You cry, and you become more naked than you have ever been. What little body hair you had falls off, and your perpetually youthful Zun skin becomes so smooth that it refracts light. You run past the guards making a soft pitter pater of your tiny feet against the cold stone. Following your nose, and your heightened hearing, you head deeper into the dungeon where the sounds and smells of futas exerting themselves and machines pumping can be heard.
At the very bottom strata of the dungeon, there is a massive set of doors and a massive placard with all kinds of warnings. “Biohazard: Please observe level 6 safety protocols and food handling procedures, do not disturb subjects, do not arouse subjects, ensure genitals are properly cov…” You do not have time to heed petty warning and you kick open the door. A wave of heat and an unbelievably strong stench washes over you, literally knocking you off your feet. You get up and it takes a moment for your eyes to register what you are seeing. About 3 dozen futas are lined up in 3 rows. They are bent over at the waist, facing down and thrusting intensely into a machine that hums and throbs rhythmically. There are 3 tubes coming down from the ceiling with what must be water, a chunky red one for food/protein and a third, deep green of liquid mulch. The milking machines also have all kinds of tubes in them as the cream is cantered, distilled and stored. You run up to the nearest station and yank out a tube, you proceed to then suck it down with ravenous hunger. As your stomach fills with gallon after gallon of cream, you begin lose your sense of self and everything becomes a blur.
This thread reads like a Hentai D&D version of Virtue’s Last Reward.
Minus the virtue.
And the reward.
And the chance to pick the “good” ending.
You viciously slap the smut peddler for his ungraceful depiction of the the God-Idol Hatsugoth Mik’u. Deep in your heart you know she is cruel, but fair, and the only reason people suffer is because of Godlessness.
As an esoteric novel loving n’Groo trull half breed, you are willing to risk life and limb reading unsanctioned doujins, but you will not tolerate low standards and wicked untruths. You have half a mind to report him to the authorities, but you decide to let him off with a swift kick to the ribs.
You pull out a small head of cabbage, rolls the leaves and smoke them. Your duster overcoat flutters in the wind as you search for that next great novel.
Umm…pray to the Kromo for guidance?
I’m ravenous. The cream is thick, so it doesn’t take much to fill me up. It’s not enough. I let the hypnotic concoction flow into and out of me. I feel it’s warmth ooze all over my body. I feel dirty, gross and excited. The clash of shame and ecstasy is like nothing ever experienced. So much so that I’m almost oblivious to the clanking of steel as the room begins to fill with more guards. “Careful, this one likely knows Kung Fu!” I force my eyes open letting in a fresh wave of the hot murk. It burns, and I can barely make out the fuzz of soldiers still piling their way in, surrounding me. These are no mere rent-a-guards. All are covered in full body armor and wield spears as well as short-swords. The bishop’s personal guard, I feel my time in this strange world coming to it’s end. It doesn’t matter though, the Futa Juice and Mulch elixir are too powerful to allow worry. My hands are still clenched tightly to the milking tube as the last of it’s remains drip into my face.
I rise to my feet slowly, as if pulling myself from bog-sand. My eyes are glazed over, and I can no longer feel my face. My body is no longer my own, and I can see myself from outside my own body, a geist hovering above the room. In the blink of an eye I’m on them. One at a time I clash with the soldiers ferociously with no regard for life or death. I begin to reach my physical limit with about half of the remaining force still surrounding me. My legs begin to shake from exhaustion, and I fall to one knee. “She’s down, everyone move in!” In an instant, they’re on me. I struggle to free myself from the cluster of hard metal and erect flesh, but to no avail. Blindly reaching out from beneath the mound of soldiers, I feel a lever attached to the wall and pull.
There is a loud hissing of air and steam, and I can hear the tubes connecting the captives to the infernal machine bursting all around me. “She’s released the FUTAS!” A soldier cries in fear, and the weight of the dog-pile starts to diminish. The futas, like a pack of hibernating were-hounds, begin to awake from their mulch induced slumber. "They’ll devour us all…RUUNNNNN!"
The men attempt to flee, but their bulky armor causes them to stumble clumsily over one another. The pack of futas is a blur of teeth and dick as they move in on the soldiers. Having already accepted death as my fate, I’m bewildered to see that the pack is seemingly disinterested in me. THE FUTA CREAM! It must serve as some sort of protective barrier from the futas…maybe they have mistaken me for a part of their pack. Having no desire to test my suspicions further, I crawl along the ground amist the pool of blood and semen. I reach the exit, and without looking back I run as fast as my body will allow, leaving behind the shrieks of terror and the sounds of flesh ripping and bones breaking. I climb hand and knee up an endless stairwell and crash face first through the door at the top. The light from the sun scorches my eyes, a pain I welcome, and I fall to the ground with my face in my hands. “I…I made it,” I affirm to myself, with tears now streaming from my eyes. Hardly having moment to take what’s just happened in, I hear a voice like that of a siren behind me.
“You’ve caused me a lot a trouble young Zun.”
The heavens part and a powerful, synthetic voices speaks to you!
“You, who bear the holy regalia of the idol priesthood
You have lost your way!
Your robes of white are now robes of gray!
You do as you feel and not as you should!”
You quake before the wrath of God!
“What do you seek, why do you deserve it?
Why is it you entered unto my service?
Answer these questions first.
And perhaps I will quench your thirst”
Turning slowly you see a massive ball of pinkish flesh. You can hardly believe your eyes as you gaze upon the largest, most corpulent, fetid, writhing mass of sausage meat you have ever seen. You knew trulls were often obese, but this defied all logic. As disgusting as it was, you can’t help but stare. You realize she is actually naked, except for a small, discolored cap on her head. She seems to be coated in a thick layer of grease. Upon further inspection, you see massive rolls of flab moving and shaking independently from each other, soft hisses and moans seem to be emanating from them. She is constantly moving her arms, poking and prodding her rolls, and it seems like she is constantly shifting.
“Do you know how long it will take to calm my pretties down after you got them so…soooo…soooooooooo riled up?” Hey voice is unnatural high and sickly sweet. The tribal tattoo on her face seems to come alive as she speaks, details and patterns dart in and out of many chins. Your eyes go wide as a penis pokes out from one of the rolls of flesh, she quickly pushes it back in. "I’ll have you know…two can play at that game…"
She lifts up curtain of flesh and you see 3 futas, sopping wet with grease and cream, they are nestled in a bed of what appears to be barnacles, you vomit as they suckle the pus that seeps out. "Go my pretties…heeeeheeeeeheeeeee"
The feral dick girls turn to you, and after struggling to catch their footing, they leap out and chase after you.
The futas close in on their prey, staring through me with empty eyes no longer human. They’re fast, and my Kung Fu doesn’t seem to intimidate them in the slightest. I look for an opportunity to strike, but with the three of them coming at me at once, it takes all I have to dodge their talon-like claws. I can’t keep this up, one mistake and my throat will be ripped out. “AGGGH” I let out a squeal, as one of the claws tears flesh from my back. The blood streams from my back and forms a crimson pool on the ground. One of the futas, seeming more interested in the taste of blood, turns from me and begins lapping it from the ground. “She’s open!” I think to myself and let my dagger fly towards her back. The futa, still preoccupied with the pool of blood, deflects the dagger with a simple flick of the wrist without even turning around. “Impossible!” by this time the others have joined her and cleaned most of the remaining blood from the floor. I fear it will only be enough to whet their hunger.
The three wild futas finish their appetizer then turn to the main course. They stare at me blankly again, eyes glazed and milky, and begin to sniff the air like hounds trying to catch the scent of a wopmus-coon. “Can it be?” I take one of the invisible blades from my back and toss it across the room. In a flash, all three move toward the sword…they couldn’t possibly have seen it. “They’re blind-sighted,” I realize and turn to their abomination of a master. Running to the bishop, I make a deep cut into my hand. I perform an incredible somersault over the massive troll, landing behind her with my blade to what i believe to be her throat. I let the cut from my hand spill all over the putrid mound of flesh in front of me, "Time to eat, you filthy beasts."
The smell of fresh blood sends the futas into a new fury, and they zone in on their next target. “Stop, you fools…I’M YOUR MASTER!” The bishop’s warnings have no effect on the bloodthirsty savages, the hunger is all that controls them now.
“What do want with me!?!? Tells me what you know about the letter, or I’ll let them have you!”
Umm…to be fabulous?
It appears she does not hear you.
“Ahh…unnnnnn…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah” the massive troll woman begins to moan and squirm uncharacteristically. You feel unnerved as she is entranced by the viscous ministrations of the rabid futas. “No…no…not here…I’m gonna…its coming oooooooooooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut” She begins to vibrate and an ear shattering squeaking is heard. You can see a pale mist rising around her, the ravenous futas grow dizzy and lose their balance. One by one they slam head first into the ground. Then, out of the clown car rolls of her flesh, more futas fall, dripping wet with her sweat grease concoction. “Look at what you’ve doooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeeeee” She turns a deep red and the vibration grows stronger and louder. The sound of her flabs slapping each other is practically deafening, It is also creating a fine mist around her as tiny droplets of sweat are atomized.
Your eyes sting from the sweat mist!
You cannot open your mouth out of fear of tasting the sweat mist!
With a mighty bellow she charges at you, and swings a hard and pointy tit at you
You take 47 points of damage!
A voice from the heavens speaks to you.
NO. WRONG. THAT IS WRONG. I CAST THEE OUT!
You have been struck by lightning!
Your character has died!
Your remains are not found for…213 years!
Game over
Your new character is a small, menche girl in the slums of Deneral.
Bumping this thread because it is by FAR the superior D&D thread on this god forsaken site.
You really screwed me over with this one, Kromo. I could have pulled some “and-it-was-just-a-dream” nonsense but that is far too cliche for my taste. The dream is dead.
whatever it happened to this thread, God just turned his back on it, it was a great read
You try scream and scream, trying to rip the idol clothes from your body, but they are deeply embedded in you. Even as your fury peaks, and you rip massive clumps of the silky uniform from your body, huge patches of skin and muscle follow with a sickening wet ripping noise. Within moments, the uniform is replaced. You can only sob at your past mistakes, knowing fully well it is entirely your fault.
Profound sadness fills you