Extreme Sex Quest 19

beta by Vex

Right, so, I missed last month's Quest post. I have my excuses, of course, but I always feel like excuses are rather lack luster. That is why, I endeavored to make this month's quest post that much spicier.

Obligatory explanation: A quest is a collaborative story of sorts, where I, the Game Master, write the story that you, the audience, decide on via voting on the prompts that I put through each post. Each post that, on its own, is the result of previous votes.

Taking an active role won. Right, so, this would technically be the second Extreme kink we’ve explored in the quest, with you guys fucking Athena being the first.

Let’s see if I can make this as memorable.

Oh, on that note: NTR warning. Also, Power Cucking warning.

[X] You take an active role in things. Alama and Sigal will fuck in a room, but you’ll be there to direct things. (You play “porn director”, except more hands on.)

“So, um, why have you summoned me?” Sigal asked.

It is night and nighttime inside the city was quite the thing. Lanterns hung from street posts along the main roads going inside its walls, and guards made the rounds through it at periodic intervals. At night, you could even see when it happened, because they all had torches of their own screening whatever bit of the road wasn’t illuminated.

A part of you wondered if the minotaur invasion had instigated these security measurements, but it might be just as likely that the city, being on the frontiers of multiple different Duchessdoms, did this all the time anyway. Perhaps it might just be a service rendered to the part of the city you and your Lady wife had gained entrance to, with visiting nobility like you justifying it at all times.

Whatever the case was, cool air entered from the open wooden windows into the biggest room that this inn had.

This was Sigal’s first time being here.

It wasn’t because she couldn’t fit in this room, or that there wasn’t space for her, but the thought of making her sleep with the mare that was your wife’s sister, tickled your fancy something fierce: Treating your centaur no better than an animal was oh so appealing.

Despite your bluster, despite the feelings of uncertainty in your heart and the emptiness in your stomach, there was still some enjoyment to be found in ordering your filly centaur here.

Sigal didn’t know what this was about.

You had not given her an inkling, because it wasn’t her business. You had not told her, because she didn’t need to know. And you hadn’t gotten her consent, because you didn’t need it.

She was yours to do as you pleased!

And this, despite what it was, was also a test of that.

“Hmm,” your wife put a careful finger on her lips, “Well, dear-y, what do you think this is?”

There were candles on the table, and their shine reflected off of bottles of wine and glasses next to them.

The bed, upon your request, had been freshly laundered and rose petals were littered on the floor.

You did not travel with many dresses, as a Knight on a quest had to be prepared to travel light, but this was a city, was it not? Upon your wife’s request, it wasn’t particularly hard, or expensive for that matter, to get a simple dress that would have shamed you to death being seen in out of this room.

It was a two-piece affair that only covered your breasts and your muscled shoulders, leaving your navel naked to the air as your skirt gave you SOME dignity but ended upon your knees.

Your wife, by comparison, was even more seductive.

Hers was a one-piece affair that went that covered her shoulder to ankle. But this one split down the middle on the top, letting you and your centaur see the inside valley of her tits. It also split to the sides from her waist down, letting her creamy thighs shine through.

Sigal flushed when she looked at your wife as much as she stole looks at you.

You had told her to show up at this time, wearing nothing except what she was born with. No, not even the breast rags that even feral centaurs managed to chance upon.

There was a tension in the air. One that was fueled mostly by your mixed feelings about the matter but…you would be lying if there wasn’t a definitive edge to it.

Your wife, despite suspecting that this was a last second save on your part you think, was enjoying it all the same.

“My Lady and…my lady are having a date?” Sigal gandered.

“That’s not entirely wrong,” you reply, taking deep breaths as you ready yourself for this.

Can you do this?

Are you capable of it?

Can you bear this burden?

You must.

“But it is rather imprecise,” your wife says as she pops a bottle of wine open and, to Sigal’s surprise, serves 3 glasses, “Fancy a drink?”

“Ah, if it's pleasing to my mistress?” Sigal bit her lips.

You gestured at her with your hand, giving her the go-ahead, while you took your own glass.

You downed it.

The burn felt good and some of the tension you were feeling went out.

But not completely.

“Hmmm, that’s nice,” Alama sighs with enjoyment.

“Oh fuck,” Sigal, on the other hand, choked on the drink, “That’s-how can you drink that?”

You quirked an eyebrow at the filly for a second before realizing that Centaur tribes must not brew a whole lot. But then, how did they avoid getting sick? Must be that famed centaur sturdiness.

And yet the discomfort of it all, slight as it was, struck a chord within you. The realization that she HAD to do this because of you brought a smile to your face.

Maybe…

“Alcohol is an acquired taste,” your wife admitted.

Sigal gives her an unhappy smile, but gingerly sips more of the wine down.

“You know, like cuckolding,” Alama then struck-

“What?” -causing Sigal to spit her wine out.

“Oh, that’s a good look,” your wife chuckled at the face of pure confusion on your sex slave’s face, savoring the anxiety of not knowing what game she was playing at.

For the first time ever, you were with your wife; it was indeed an enjoyable experience.

In the end, however, your wife shook her head, “But, hmmm, I don’t feel like leading for once.”

“Celia, dear, will you actually do it?” she asked you, quirking an eyebrow and, with a deep breath, you stood up.

You sighed as you rolled your shoulders: It was time.

“Alama,” you look deep into your wife’s eyes. You detested her as much as you longed for her, but either way she was yours. She was yours, yours and yours.

You pointed at your sex slave and gave the woman who you are willing to die for now, “Seduce her.”

“What?” Sigal screeched again as your wife gave a pearly laugh.

And then drained her cup.

“So,” she said as she got up and started sauntering towards the filly, “I don’t think we’ve gotten properly acquainted. You and I, cousin, you and I.”

Her hips swayed side to side, which, with the dress she was wearing, made her skirt swing like a pendulum. Sometimes it covered completely.

Other times, it showed her purple pubic hair.

“M-mistress?!” Sigal appealed to you as your wife reached her and extended to hands.

One caressed her naked breasts.

The other caressed her chin.

“Hush,” your wife told her, “Can’t you see that I am obeying our terribly shameful cuck of a wife?”

Sigal looked at you with wide eyes for a moment before your wife grabbed the back of her head.

And made her lean down to capture her lips.

It hurt.

It was exciting.

It hurt AND it was exciting.

Your wife kissing another woman that WASN’T you. Another futa who did not have the history, the hatred, and the longing that you had for her. It twisted your heart like a vice.

But oh, the pain was so exciting!

Sigal was clumsy and inexperienced, as could be expected of her age, as your wife showed her skill by leading the kiss. Her tongue poked and wrestled Sigal’s into Alama’s mouth, and her lips pursued and pressed against the centaur’s own.

The hand that harassed the centaur’s breasts started clenching them, filling themselves with tit flesh to the point that, altogether, your awfully confused and terrified futa centaur filly was left a moaning wreck.

“So.” Alama let go when Sigal’s knees started trembling, “Still not convinced?”

“I-I-I,” your centaur stutters as she looks between you and your wife, not knowing what to say, “Mistress, h-help?”

You find that your hands are sweaty and that your mouth feels dry. The air feels too hot for you, even though cool winds blow in from the night.

You did this to avoid hurting a single hair of your wife, to turn that pain into yours. And oh, this much was agony.

But it was still a single step from the true cliff.

“Alama-” you said, your voice sounding low. You thought getting this started would be like an avalanche, and one you would not be able to stop at that.

But it wasn’t.

This needed YOU to drive it forward. “-go to the bed and present.”

“Whatever you say, my lady wife,” Alamas demures with a sweet innocent smile.

She leaves your horsegirl with one last caress of her cheek, and one last squeeze of her bosom, before she saunters over to the bed.

And bends at the waist, simply bracing her elbows upon the bed and resting her upper body in it.

That makes her ass stand high in the air. It presents it like an object of high interest.

Both you and Sigal swallow.

But your erections get hard when Alama reaches back and pulls her skirt up into her back, revealing her naked ass.

And her naked pussy. If you said nothing, you KNOW things would go nowhere from here. Sigal is not willing to cross you regardless of how horny she is. And your wife is quite simply only doing this because she thinks you are into it.

So its funny, ironic even, that you find that it can no longer stop because YOU cannot longer stop.

“Sigal,” you say, your voice a bit feverish.

“Go on top of her.”

“M-mistress?” she gasps.

“GO!” you growl, even as your dick starts to get hard.

Your centaur trots over to your wife and, very carefully, puts her front hooves on the bed from atop her. “Mounting” would be a good word for this, except for the fact that your centaur has yet to make any actual physical contact with your wife.

Sigal stands above Alama with her hooves almost touching her hands. She did not dare take this one step further then you made her.

Which was good.

This…was something YOU had to do.

“Now,” you say as you walk behind your sex slave and kneel in front of your wife’s ass, “stay yourselves like that. Both of you, I mean.”

“I obey, wife of mine,” Alama purrs.

“Ah-I do too,” Sigal meeps.

Alama’s pussy is already wet, slobbering really, while your centaur’s cock is already hard and bubbling, hanging to one side.

You lean in and give your wife’s pussy a kiss-

“Ooooh,” Alama moans.

And then you take your centaur’s hard dick.

“Mistress!” Sigal also moans.

“Remember,” you tell her as you heft the foot and four-inch-long horse cock, “Stay.”

“Y-yes,” your centaur shivers as you make the flat-headed futa cock face your way.

You see how feminine sperm bubbles out of her cock slit. You smell the bestially fertile semen coming of it.

So, just like your wife, you lean in to smooch it.

“Oooh,” Sigal moans as your lips make contact with the tip of her urethra, your sucking action making all the pre-cum slurp up into your mouth.

It tasted heavy and a bit starchy. Probably from all the oats that you were feeding her.

“Alright,” you breathed as you licked your lips. Your eyes eye your wife’s fertile pussy and dart back to the cock that you had in your hands again.

“Let’s make it so.”

You take your sex slave’s futa cock and push it against your wife’s twat. The cock is far too big to fit inside Alama’s pussy slit or at least looks that way. But, hah, had Alama not already proven that she could take huge dicks when she raped you?

The soppy nectar coming out of your wife’s folds moistening the flat glans of your centaurs rod as you grind it into Alama’s cunt. Little by little, bit by bit, you make the petals of her vagina spread over Sigal’s dick, until-

“Oh, HONEY!” Alama moans as her pussy spreads for Sigal, “You are one sick bitch!”

You open your mouth to reply-

“It’s-it’s inside!” Sigal gasps as YOU are the one to push her cock inside of your wife’s reproductive system.

But you find yourself chuckling instead, “Remember, Sigal, stay still.”

“Oooh, no response to my accusations, love?” Your wife lovingly taunted, “Is that an implicit admittance?”

“This is for the best,” you parry the question, not giving your wife cause to demand you make good on your original favor, nor unnecessarily debase yourself.

“Your centaur’s slave’s dick is about to, hmmm, REACH my womb!” Alama grunts, “And you are the one pushing it in! That you think it’s ‘for the best’ is almost an explicit admittance!”

“You are the one letting it happen!” you huffed.

“Because I can’t say ‘no’ to my strong, noble wife,” Alama laughs.

“M-mistress?” Sigal cuts in.

“What?” you retort.

“W-what do I do now?” she asks with fear.

You are still thrusting her cock into your wife, the medial ring of your centaur juuust outside of her cunt. But its no longer going in.

But, through tactile feeling, you could feel Sigal’s cockhead rubbing against something deep inside.

It seems that you got to your wife’s cervix.

“Sigal,” you say, resisting the urge to tremble.

“Mistress?” she doesn’t resist the urge.

“Swing with all your strength,” you order.

“What?” she asks, the fear still there.

“Burst through the aperture of her womb,” you grip her cock hard, “Invade her uterus!”

“But-” Sigal tries to object.

“DO IT!” you bark.

Groaning, your centaur sex slave tilts her horse lower half back.

And then slams into your wife so hard that you feel the bed tremble.

“Fuck!” Alama moans, reminding you of the things she forced you to do once upon a time.

“Again!” you roar.

Your centaur withdraws and swings all of her body weight into your wife’s cunt.

You feel the cockhead crash mid-body into your Alama, and you feel that energy be transferred into your wife.

The bed, despite weighing hundreds of pounds, moves.

But, still, your wife’s arrogant womb holds.

“Again!” you say, helping with your hands which you’ve moved above Sigal’s medial ring. You are swinging with her, using her cock as a battering ram, “Again until SHE breaks!”

“How-” Alama moans. The ramming of a horse cock into her uterus momentarily stops her.

But no for long, “-disgraceful!”

“Again!” you order.

“Y-yes!” Sigal groans as she starts picking up speed, “Whatever you say, L-Lady!”

You cannot say for how long you rammed your wife’s womb with your sex slave’s cock. Maybe for a dozen seconds.

Maybe for a dozen minutes.

You are so lost into the action, into the absolutely deliciously horrible action, that, when, finally, her cervix bursts-

“She’s IN!” Your wife screeches, “Your sex slave’s defiled my womb!”

-you almost came then and there.

But, of course, you couldn’t.

You had to see this done.

“Stay!” you tell your centaur slave before she can swing out of your wife's baby room.

Sigal, driven by instincts, almost disobeys. She moves to withdraw anyway, but your hands are hard and your grip is strong, “Stay!”

“Y-yes!” Sigal says once she gets a grip on her actions.

And you?

You scoot over behind Sigal.

And then grip her watermelon-sized futa testicles.

“M-my balls?” Sigal gasps, ‘Whyyyy?”

“Oh?” Your wife grunts as your fingers fill themselves with horse gonads, “You not only ruined your wife’s flower, her hot pot and her matrix, you now also want a fucking Centaur slave to beget a child with her?”

That almost stops your ministrations of Sigal’s balls.

Almost.

You were nearly done. You had to finish this.

“You want me to grow fat with the bastard of your sex slave?” Alama taunts, “You want me to go all nine months carrying a babe that isn’t yours?”

“Is that it?” she whispers in a low, seductive voice.

“I could do it, you know.”

“I could send her back home, and have her raised,” she said, getting your attention, “Or, hells, we could retire and raise her ourselves!”

“We could raise her to be just another one of your sex slaves,” she proposed, “Make it known wide and far to everyone that that is what we are raising my little girl up for.”

“We could TELL her that, even,” she hotly says, “We can raise her with that expectation, that she is fated to be just another hole for your cock.”

“So,” she tilts her torso around, and looks your way.

Her eyes lock into yours.

“Does that sound good?” she asks, her arousal so high that she is one response away from orgasming again.

But then, so are you.

What do you say?

[]...fuck it. Your wife is going to bear you a future member of your harem. (Alama gets pregnant with Sigal’s child.”)

[]...no. As hot as it is, you will not make such a far reaching conclusion whilst in the throes of ecstasy. (You drink your futa centaur’s seed instead.)

Extreme Sex Quest 8

Obligatory explanation: A quest is a collaborative story of sorts, where I, the Game Master, write the story that you, the audience, decide on via voting on the prompts that I put through each post. Each post that, on its own, is the result of previous votes.

The votes this time are:

1 foot 2(3)=6

2 feet (7 votes)

Smash that pussy (All the votes)

Well, well, well. You guys have chosen…an extreme option. Well then.

[X] Two Feet Donger

[X] Smash That Pussy.

What did you know about Athena, really?

The first time you met her was when you showed up to Squire under your now-wife. Athena was smaller then, given her relative youth of 6 years of age, but she quickly attained her great size in just a few years. It was more than normal horses took, something you noticed even then, but Alastar horses were, well, different.

Stronger. Faster. Braver. Bold. More Intelligent.

All the things that made a horse ideal for a knight were something the Alastar family bred for. Everyone knew that. So, of course, there’d be a price to pay. And, as things went? A slower development was a fairly benign price.

She was emblematic of your experience, as a whole really, because your enchantment with her and your mentor would start to slip as she started to reveal more of herself and you…of you.

You hated your wife, but you were only wary of Athena. Because, as much as the former used her authority to molest you, Athena only used her seeming innocence to…molest you.

Hmmm.

As much as your former mentor forced herself on you, you only had to be wary of Athena lest she…forced herself on you.

The point is, Athena the mare was LESS successful at it!

But as she showed you her wet sticky pussy, already engorged with blood in a clear sign of Equine Heat, you couldn’t but wonder why you ever bothered.

Your cock fills with blood and, as good as you are at packaging it inside of your pants, you have no choice in the matter now. With a pained grunt you push your trousers down.

And let your two feet cock out.

The horse shutters in a very human way as your ridiculously oversized cock bobs up and down in the air, already bubbling pre-cum from its cock slit. It was, in your opinion, a gross tool of reproduction, far outsized for its purpose and absolutely mislocated on a futa, let alone a woman.

You would have loved to have a man instead of a wife, because if you didn’t it meant that your Mentor was right and that you WERE attracted to her, after all. Ironic, then, that you were now married to her. So what did it matter now?

Athena smelled like sex in a pot, the equine arousal hitting you in spots that you didn’t think possible. Her tail swashed back and forth, sending more and more of that scent towards you as it girated like a fan.

And you? You could not hold it. You could not stop it. Primitive as it was, animalistic as it turned out to be, Athena offered herself to you, seduced you, and you? You put your hands in her huge horse ass and put your nose near her pussy.

And then you took a long drag of her reproductive aroma.

“Oh GODESSES!” your testicles lurge and you shot a little but of pre-cum into the ground. She was ripe. She was ready.

She would, divines willing, bare you foals.

You put your feet on top of her calves and, such was Athena’s strength that she didn’t even budge as you climbed her rear. Your shaft pressed against her crotch tits as you came to a level with her ass, and pulled your hips back as much as you could.

Your glans, just like the rest of your cock, was vastly outsized as it slid up until it was covering Athena’s horsey lips. It was the sized of a child’s head, a spongey plunger that no one should have a reason to covet.

And you stabbed it into Athena’s equine pussy.

Athena whined in pleasure as the mass and muscles of her waist and back made her pussy be TIGHT. You had to fight to expand her depths as you slid your cock inside of her, and your own reproductive drive DEMANDING that you get to her inner-most parts.

Her pussy juices lubed your cock, and your spongy head scraped at her insides as your wide shaft unerringly sought out her uterus.

A normal horse’s dick, you knew from talking to breeders, was 20 inches long. You? You were 6 inches beyond that. A normal male horse would get pretty far.

You squished your glans against her cervix before you could slap Athena’s ass with your hips.

“Always trying to pull out my dick,” you growled as you drew back.

And battered on the equine door.

“Always trying to seduce me, even back then,” you accused Athena as your hands clenched her ass so hard that your knuckles went white, and tried to punch a hole into her reproductive chamber.

“Always t-t-trying to get me to fuck you!” you shout as you withdrew once more.

Only to violently clash against the entrance to her womb.

“Well, you win!” you yell, “So here!”

“Get,” you hiss through your teeth as you swing back for another thrust, “Pregnant!”

And then you thrust inside of her with all of your strength once more. Despite being a two ton beast, despite having a supremely durable and strong bod, despite literally being as healthy as a horse, her equine cervix met your glans one last time.

And lost.

The first time you fucked Alama, she broke her cervix herself and that took significantly more time then this. But you were so hopped up on sex pheromones, did you shattered through Athena’s in half the time.

“OH FUCK!” you moan as your glans invades her uterus and rubs against all of that soft pliable flesh.

“Eeeigh!” Athena whines loud enough to make your ears tingle, her knees shaking and froth coming out of the corner of her lips.

But she still managed to keep standing as you withdrew back, having to FIGHT to get your cock out of her greedy cervix.

Only to slam it in once again.

The final time.

Your testicles clenched so hard that it hurt, sending loads so huge into your prostate that you felt bloated. Your cock expanded under the deluge of human DNA making it’s way all through the mare’s womb.

Until they were deposited in the place that could use her equine ovum to make abominations before the Goddesses.

You smash into her ass and make it part for your hips, doing so again and again as you let her pussy milk your futa cream. Soon enough, the pressure from your loads awash back around your shaft. But the depth of Athena is so deep that it doesn’t make it back out into your lap.

You cum your brains out. You cum until your testicles are empty and you still try to cum. You orgasm all that you have and more into this HORSE, and, only after 5 minutes of constant cumming, do you finally climb out of Athena.

Pulling your cock out of her puss.

The horse sways from side to side as if she were drunk, your seed managing to seep out of her pussy and slide down her breasts.

“I-is that good?” you ask, breathing hard as you can’t quite believe what you just did, “Are you finally going to leave me alone?”

But Athena is looking at you with absolute lust.

She huffs, of course, and starts to unsteadily walk away, but its clear that she us humoring you now that she got what she wanted.

Now that she knows that she only needs to present her pussy to you to get bred.

By the time you brought water back, Athena was already in the building, napping on the old hay floor of the abandoned building. She didn’t even raise her head when you presented your wife with the bucket of water, but you could feel her eye following you all the same.

“How was it?” Alama asked as she took the water and started boiling it right away. She wasn’t bothered at all that you STUNK of her horse.

“...amazing,” you begrudgingly allowed, trying and failing to be bothered either.

Alama hummed, allowing you to save some dignity as you sat on the only bedroll that your wife had bothered to extend.

Given you were married, it went without saying that you would be sleeping together, after all.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” you, in the end ask her as she slips into the covers with you, “Sharing me with an animal?”

“The goddesses will forgive me,” Athena kissed your forehead.

“Sisters share things, after all.”

And with that, she goes to sleep, ignoring your questions and pleads to elaborate.

Your honeymoon, for the rest of the trip, isn’t with your wife…but her horse.

You fuck Athena when she is filling randy…or when you are. She digs into your crotch with her snout and you, well, let her suck you off. You enjoy her pussy and crotch tits when your libido gets too much, and Alama, despite how horny she herself is, seems to be fine with this.

There are things you don’t understand about this, about her and Athena, but she is maddeningly cryptic as you enter her lands and are faced with a choice:

How do you tackle the Centaur bandit problem?

[] Go to one of the affected villages. Perhaps you’d be able to gain information about Centaurs from their victims? (Peace Route)

[] Ride around where they are set to be until you come across them. Two knights alone might be a bait too juicy for a band of them to pass up. (Violent Route)

[] Write-in

Extreme Sex Quest 7

We have a tie.

[] Accept the trial ownership for now. How bad can it be? (Athena will try to seduce you.)

and

[] Just accept her as a gift. (You outright agree to fuck a horse.)

Both have 6 points worth of votes. Should I flip a coin? Well, no, no, no.

Not this time.

Given the MC’s character, it makes a lot of sense to morph the two votes into a single one:

[X] You accept trial ownership for now…and Athena auto-succeeds at seducing you.

You needed to set some boundaries. That’s clear as day. Your…wife had outmanevured, outdrawn and outthought. She did what you promised she would never do and she sunk her teeth into you completely and utterly.

But this wasn’t the same as before. It couldn’t be, and wouldn’t be, given who you now were. She didn’t get to dictate things like she did when she was your mentor.

And that meant that this was a good time as any to put your foot down, if only to prove and show that you could.

Yet, here again she continued to maneuver around you.

Had she told you that Athena was now your horse, had she assigned her to you, you would have thrown the mare back on her face. But a gift, from your lady Wife to make it worse, made such actions be rude to a point you had not yet earned. Having just married, declining bening gifts at all was essentially trying to skirt around oaths you’d literally just made that same day.

And Knighthood, to you, was far too important for that.

…but your wife wanted you to fuck a horse.

Athena was a beautiful creature of her kind. Huge, even by knightly Charger standards. Well groomed, well kept, she had a graceful neck and muscled legs. Her eyes were brown, the tits below her crotch were perky mounds that, unbred as she was, still managed to be this big. Her drooling pussy-

“Give me the fucking reins,” you grunted as you forced yourself to not get erect.

You were not a deviant. You did not bed animals.

You would meet this challenge and you would do so untainted!

Athena whined and kicked her legs happily, giving you smoldering eyes that you did not meet. The beast presumed too much.

And yet, even as Alama passes you the reigns with a coy smile, the beast nestles against your shoulder…and your tits.

You had no armor, yet the horse tried to stick her nose into your bodice.

“Get on the mare,” You hiss at your wife as you push Athena’s head out.

“Really?” she blinked, “But she’s your horse and I am still a knight. I can walk.”

“Your my wife!” you spat, “And I’ll be goddess damned if I let you walk when I can have you ride!”

The sight of seeing Alama flush as she puts a hand on her chest is almost enough to get you to stop and stare, but Athena quickly takes advantage of the situation and get slips her tongue deep into the valley of your tits.

“Do it now woman!” you throw Athena’s head off as you escape to the only place she can’t reach you; you put your leg on the hitch of her saddle and get on her back.

The mare huffs in annoyance but…she doesn’t do anything else as you extend your hand down to your Lady Wife.

“My, my,” Alama whispers before a gentle smile sprouts on her face, “Who’d thought you’d be this romantic?”

She made you start regretting your decision.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Alama took your hand and hoisted herself in front of you with it. She was wearing a skirt and so sat side saddle, letting her wrap her arm around your waist as she literally sat across your lap, “Women such as you would be wasted on any woman less capable, and willing, to go as far as I am.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” you huff as you set Athena on a canter out of the stable, passing by stable girls who had apparently been doing their utmost not to eavesdrop on you.

Which meant rumors would be going out now.

Joy.

“Till Death do us apart,” Alama purred their oath, “What is it that the Church says? ‘Everyone dies someday, but the brave die many times’?”

“I never missed out on the sermons,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well-” Alama seductively thrills, “I have not perished yet, not even once. And, as far as the church reckons, I was and am brave.”

“I can die many times,” she whispers into your ears, “But my first time?”

“It’ll be at your hands.”

…You swallow at that.

The trip to her family lands is one you are familiar with and you know, from experience, that it was going to take about 3 days of constant riding to get there.

Yet, as you and your wife break to make camp in an abandoned farmhouse somewhere in the Trollham forest, things come to a head far faster than you’d anticipated they would.

Setting a fire by the road isn’t hard, and a seasoned veteran like your wife certainly knew her way around a tent. A firepit outside of the depilated building was dug, dinner was cooked, water from a nearby well was boiled and cooled, and sleeping arrangements were made.

Yet, as you went to get more water for the night, someone else snuck after you and caught you behind the barn.

Athena the mare paced around with wild, needy energy. The lust in her equine eyes was resplendent even in the evening light, but she didn’t try to literally get in your pants no.

Had she tried, you would have been able to rebuke her.

But, instead, she simply turned around.

And presented you with her engorged, meaty pussy.

Between species, there were a lot of communication that others simply just did not get. And smell was one of these.

Smell could communicate things like fear, anger and rage.

Or quite simply, a being’s desire to breed.

A human’s olfactory senses were not good enough to captivate these things and, indeed, you could not claim to be able to detect a randy mare.

Yet you could detect Athena’s.

Somehow, the pheromones that informed you about how fertile, how GOOD of a baby carrier for your seed the horse would be, were managing to “click” with your senses.

And that is enough to get your cock hard.

“Fuuuck,” You groan in pain as your erection is suddenly too much to bear. Your control escapes you and you find yourself pulling down your pants. All to let:

(Pick dick size)

[] -Fairly normal male meat spring out. 8 inches long. (You can fuck just about anything without problem.)

[] -A rather Large slab of cock. 1 foot long. (You can fuck most things, but some of them will suffer. That’s considered a plus by almost everyone you give it to.)

[] -An absurd piece of male flesh! 2 feet long! (Some things you’ll only be able to fuck once. Some of those might even survive. This is a tool of destruction as much as a tool of breeding….and yes, there will be plenty of girls who’d enjoy the experience..)

Athena whines in a way that’s entirely too horny for you and sticks her ass out to you.

This was what came across as seduction for an animal, you suppose.

But then…it’s working on you.

“I goddess,” you moan as you take unwilling steps to your horses ass and-

[] Eat out of her. Maybe it’ll be enough to quench her thirst…and yours. (Oral sex on the mare.)

[] ...smash that pussy. (You’ll breed your horse.)

[] Write in.

EDIT: If there is particular sex action that you want to do, communicate it here in the comments and I'll put in the poll.

Extreme Sex Quest 4

This is late by literal hours, but I hope you guys will forgive me. Next post will be up on the 15th of next month.

[X] Getting Married. You are not the eldest but you are a futa and so, male or not, the propositions have flooded in. You’ll have to deal with this one way or another. [X] The knight you were squired to, Lady Alma of Alastar. Your teacher, your trainer and, for one brief moment, your lover. That last part isn’t a good thing. (You are not part of her retinue anymore, yet she wants to hold on to whatever connection that she can.)

-and found your mentor, the “honorable” Lady Alma of Duchy of Alastar waiting for you there.

“What are YOU doing here?” your words were out of your mouth without preamble, without any of the respect that should have been there from your part. Something that should have been unthinkable, under normal circumstances, but she wasn’t your mistress anymore and you weren’t her squire. You weren’t her responsibility and she the one whose every word you had to follow.

You weren’t out in the world following in her footsteps, polishing her armor and her weapons. Taking care of her things, servicing her horse and….servicing her.

Your squireship ended under bad terms, but the thing hanging from your legs stopped it from being the end of your aspirations. You were going to be a knight. You WOULD be a knight.

So why was she here?

“Can’t I see how my cute Celly is doing?” the older woman asked, her hand being brought to her chin as her lips pouted. She surreptitiously pushed her chest out, making you notice that she wasn’t properly covering it. After all, you could see the top of her tits.

In all truth, Madam Alma wasn’t ugly. At 5 feet 8 inches, she was even rather tall, giving her extremely meaty thighs a lot of distance to display themselves. You knew from past experience how many scars those had, and how ample the muscle ran in them. Muscle that was slim but defined in her arms, making her shoulders stand out almost like pads. Her tits were twice as big as a clenched fist, which was impressive for someone who trained for combat every day. These, too, had scars going through them.

Her face round, her nose was a button and her lips were full and blossomed. Her eyes were as purple as her hair was, indicating the interspecies blood that her ancestress had rightfully claimed from one of the many vile races, and shined as she looked at her. You knew, too, that her drapes matched her curtains from bloody personal experience.

“That’s Celia to you,” you spat, “And your gallivanting in my home, resting your arse against my mother’s desk. I expect a serious answer, Madam Alma.”

Your ex-mentor sighed.

“You were so much cuter when you were younger,” she tapped against her chin.

“Yes, working under someone like you did my maturity wonders,” you reply, “The reason for not throwing you out, please.”

At that, the knight snorted.

“Your sister allowed this meeting,” she told you.

“Morrigan did WHAT?” you almost screamed out. Being the second-oldest daughter, you were, in many ways, a spare. One of about 8, now 4. Squiring you was a way to get you out of the running for the Harlocke fief, to give you the means to service the kingdom and still be productive. It appears that was not insurance enough for your eldest sister.

“She came to me personally and asked me to be here,” the older woman sighed as if she were doing a favor, “Didn’t even have to pull any strings for this.”

“Mother would never allow this,” you seethed.

And at that, she smiled.

“I am to conclude what we began and officially take your oaths,” Alama said with a pleased smile, “And, wouldn’t you know it, you have a sword at your side! How wonderful!”

“I should skewer you with it,” you hissed.

“Oh, but you already have,” she chuckled, making you consider heavily the consequences of becoming an outlaw by killing a woman who apparently had guest rights, “But let’s put the past behind us! With your oaths comes a new live, full of opportunity and relationships!”

“...get on with it then,” you, in the end, say from within clenched teeth as you pull out your sword and offer it hilt first.

“You always were so obedient,” she notes as she takes your sword, “But, hmm, I am supposed to give you a slap before this.”

“Do it then,” you raise up and offer your cheek, “But know that this will be the last time you touch me.”

“Oh, but that just wouldn’t be very fun, now, would it?” she chuckles, “How about we make this more exciting?”

“Either slap or cut me down, bitch,” you reply, “Otherwise, I will try to kill you, consequences or not.”

The threat, such as it was, didn’t produce the result that it should have. That it would have if you didn’t have a pair testicles and dick above your puss.

Alama immediately flushed, and her eyes became welcoming. She looked at you as if you had asked her to fuck, and her breath quickened to the point that she was almost drooling from her mouth.

It reminded you of some hot knights underneath a tent, with a finger in your mouth and a hole in your-

No, no.

You would not be turned from your purpose.

“Oh, but then you would just let me go to waste, wouldn’t you?” she rhetorically asked.

“I’d feed you to the dogs,” you assured her.

“We’ll work on that,” she promised.

“You’ll knight me or die!” you all but screamed. She laughed.

“What will you swear on?” she asked you, finally getting to the matter.

“My fief and my Lady mother,” you reply. It was traditional to swear yourself outside your family to avoid loyalty problems, but Harlock county was big enough that your mother could shunt you off to a far off corner if need be. Meh, it wasn’t like you planned on staying here. No, you would be out there, doing as a knight did and Questing!

“Ooooh, there is a problem with that,” Alama said and you almost jumped her then and there, “Here, a missive from the Lady.”

You all but snatched the note from her hand and rushed through the whole thing.

“This is insane,” you say outloud.

“It’s what I was told to give to you,” Alama shrugged.

“Morrigan must be behind this,” You groused.

“I would never dare to cast aspersions upon the Harlocke heir,” Alama aired herself.

Because here, in the note that you were given, hidden behind courtly language, was a clear ultimatum.

Your first Quest, if you were to Swear yourself to your mother, was to seek a spouse and begotten a line of your own.

“I-I-I haven’t even talked to mother about this!” you groan.

“Well, Cely, if you like I can help you out with that,” your ex-mentor puts a finger on her bosom and runs it down her tits, making your eyes track her finger, “I am quite single as you well know and, well, we are already acquainted.”

“Never,” you say, “Never!”

“Really? But I would let you do whatever you wanted and go wherever you pleased,” she chuckled, “You know I know people. I know what’s coming. You don’t HAVE to start out from nothing. You could be at the head of your own retinue, leading the charge into your enemies.”

“All you would have to do is fulfill your husbandly duties to me,” she said, her eyes smoldering again, “From the start to my ending.”

You simply glared at her.

“Think about it,” she told you, “Hmm, otherwise?”

“Otherwise…” she hummed, “Otherwise, well, I suppose you could swear yourself to me.”

“Isn’t that the same bloody thing!” you yell.

“Your knightly duties wouldn’t extend to my bed,” she promised, though you didn’t believe her, “And I AM my mother’s heiress. Why, the old girl is just dying to meet you!”

That sends shivers down your spine.

“I could swear on honor and the Queen,” you swallow in your throat. It was the oath that knights that had no prospects made. The ones that only had their sword arm, their horse and their armor to their name. It was the oath of knights that had nothing else.

Not that they couldn’t sweat to someone else to later, but you clearly would not have your family’s backing unless you made acquiring a family your first goal either way.

“You could,” Alama allowed, “But, hmm, call me soft-hearted, because I think I might be able to convince your mother and, hah!, your sister that you don’t need convincing to fulfill your familial duties after all.”

“What would you have me do?” you growl.

“Three favors,” she raised a hand with her index and thumb fingers curled, “Three favors from you and that will be all.”

“Oh, then you can just ask me to swear myself to you, marry you and still have something I can’t say ‘no’ to afterward!” you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll tell you what I want, and you can pick which three favors you want to do,” she tried to mollify you, “But if you are so worried about it, agreeing to either marry or swear yourself to me will be off the table.”

“...and what are the favors then?” you ask.

“Nu-ha-ah,” she waves a finger, “Agree to them first, and I will list them for you.”

“So what will it be?”

[] Swear on your mother and fiefdom. (Your first Quest will be to find a wife…or extremely less likely a husband.) [] Swear on your mother and fiefdom AND marry Alama. You hate this bitch, but if she is willing to let you do whatever you want…(First Companion get and it’s your wife! But you’ll only be able to select Quests that allow you to fulfill your marital duties.) [] Swear yourself to Alama. So long as you don’t have to touch her again, it’ll be fine…right? (Go straight to choosing quests. Limited to the Quests Alama wants to give you.) [] Swear on the Queendom and Queen. (You literally start out with nothing…but you can do whatever you want.) [] Agree on doing Alama three favors. (You will have the backing that you need, and you get to select the Quests that you want, but you will have to do Alama three favors along the way, no matter what.) []...go and complain to Mother. If the missive is legitimate, you will NOT be able to change her mind and might get on her bad side besides. But perhaps there IS something you can do.

Extreme Sex Quest 3

So, this is how things were:

Peasant 1(1)+1(3)=4

Middle Class 1(1)+1(3)=4

Noble 1(1)+1(3)=4

Priestess 1(3)=3

Elves 1(3)=3

Centaurs 1(3)+2(3)=9

Minotauress 1(1)+2(3)=7

Bearwomen 1(1)+1(3)=4

Wolfwomen 1(1)+1(2)+3(3)=12

Pantherwomen 1(3)=3

Owlwomen 1(1)+1(3)=4

Sharkwomen 1(3)=3

Believe it or not, the voting info is sometimes slightly different then the visible poll and these are the results. I am not sure why, but I can make the Excel file available to anyone who wants to count themselves.

But yes, Peasant, middle class and Noble all tied. Rather then make an extra poll as a tie breaker, I used a random number generator and Noble won. So, these are the winners:

[X] Noble

[X] Centaur

[X] Minotauress

[X] Wolfwomen

So here we are. The following marks the end of the Character Gen and the start of the Quest proper.

Extreme Sex Quest Characer Gen 3 end/Quest start.

[X] Noble [X] Centaur [X] Minotauress [X] Wolfwomen

That’s right. You were, are, a noble. A brazen daughter of Queens. A drop of blood in the pure well of those born to lead, born to fight, born to conquer, those who stand against the path of womenkind.

You rule the land, going out and rescuing fair gentlemen from the grasp of dragons. You are take back the night, raiding and taking the men from other races as your rightful spoil. You make mak sure that your sword-arm is strong and that your lance is accurate. You make the interloper keep to his business and keep the adventurers from getting ideas about the proper way of things.

You are a Knight.

…for the most part.

As a futanari, confusion abounds in what to make of you exactly. Any man is a treasure, but those born to the nobility all but ensure that the noblewoman who born him had her House lauded and Risen above the rest. You? You merely had everyone tripping over their feet to make you their Squire.

It is a great source of annoyance to your Countess mother, who thinks by alright everyone should be falling over their heads to so much as get a glimpse of you, but that’s fine with you; you are by no means valuable just because you have cock and balls.

You can do things! You can fight! You can kill! You can…maybe even kidnap an elven boy somewhere somewhen and bring him back as your spoils of war? It would certainly get the church off your back.

Because, oh boy, do they like coming over to shit on it. Well, that, or lick it.

Your penis makes their fanatical devotion weird.

But all true noble daughters of the Forestan Kingdom are as burdened as they are privileged. It is in this pillar upon which the legitimacy of most Knightly houses stand and your Barony is no different. You are no different.

Except…your own responsibilities are slightly different.

Chief among them is:

[] Bearing the next heir. As the eldest, you’ll be Baroness someday. But, despite having a dick, you have to carry a daughter of your own to term in your belly. Somehow.

[] Getting Married. You are not the eldest but you are a futa and so, male or not, the propositions have flooded in. You’ll have to deal with this one way or another.

But that’s for the future. For now, you can concentrate on the big issues of the day.

Like the fact that your barony is beset from all sides by goddessdamned Beastwomen!

Oh, the Centaurs like to claim a divine origin. Because they had to be heretics on top of being abominable animals. They accuse divine Nephele of having lain with a wild Stallion and of having brought the disgusting results to term in the dark and away from prying eyes not ready to welcome “the bearers of the new cups”. As if accusations of bestiality would be enough to sway the heart of your goddess. As if any woman would debase herself so!

…even if there are, indeed, tales of peasant women doing just that when they grew desperate enough for a man.

The Minotauress claim is, arguably, even worse, with tales of goddesses commanding men to lay with Cows on the fields or the wilds. As if any such event was commanded not by their goddess, but by some evil spirits of some kind! Were there any truth to it, it would all be a lie conducted by the vile tongue of those evil goddesses at war with womenkind’s. Though, the minotauress don’t claim any divine blood on their own, they still claim a divine origin.

The Wolfwomen though? They don’t pretend to be anything except what they are. Dispoilers, thieves and rapacious fucks who take the shape of women but keep the heart of a beast. They don’t make claims about their place in the world. They don’t make suppositions about their goddesses. They don’t try to make excuses about stealing the glory of Womenkind. They don’t make excuses for being inferior barely sapient animals.

But they are there, all the same.

You are not at war. No, war is something that happens between proper races, like those between the daughters and the spawn of the divine.

This? This is merely an infestation you have to deal with.

You are not a squire anymore. You are, as you have already established, a knight. A strong woman with armor and weapons. Horses and stables. Blue of blood and red of steel.

But you have yet to properly make your oaths.

Today, you are called to your Lady-Mother’s office, at the top of the Dread Tower of Castle Harlock.

Today, you are called to set out on your duties as an adult of noble birth.

Today, you find, waiting for you, at the top of Mother’s place of power:

[] Your mother, Countess Asea. Widowe of Harlock. Ambitious Milf. (If Eldest daughter, she will want to keep you in the castle as the Heiress. If not the Eldest, it will be about your marriage prospects.)

[] The knight you were squired to, Lady Alma of Alastar. Your teacher, your trainer and, for one brief moment, your lover. That last part isn’t a good thing. (You are not part of her retinue anymore, yet she wants to hold on to whatever connection that she can.)

[] The Bishop of the whole Noche County. She can’t do anything to you. The church holds little power over you. But, oh, the proposition she has for you…(She promises you the sun and all she asks in return is a little escorting.)

[] …what is Beastwoman doing in mother’s office? No, no, wait, this is a MALE. D-did mother manage to kidnap one? (He has nothing to give and you have nothing to get. Yet he asks for things all the same.)

Extreme Sex Quest 2

Haha, fuck you Covid!

I am feeling better now, thank you guys, and I am here with the second part of this. So what won?

Male 4(1)= 4

Futanari 4(1)+3(1)= 7

Healing is Common 2(1)=1

Healing is Uncommon due to church 1(1)+3(1)=4

Healing is Rare 3(1)=3

1.) Traditional Fare 2(1)+1(3)=5

2.) Furry Fare 1(3)=3

1 and 2(1)+1(3)=5

All numbered options above 4(1)=4

And so here are the winners:

[X] Futanari

[X] Healing Uncommon, reason Church.

[X] 1 and 2

Technically, 1 and 2 tied with Traditional Fare but there is enough interest in furry stuff for me to declare the combination of furry and traditional to be the winner anyway.

Now, as an artifact from Vore Quest, I am going to have your character be a human. A Caucasian futa human, to be exact, as that fits the Fantasy themes without giving me too many problems with the Furry ones. But as for everything else?

Extreme Quest Character Gen 2

beta by Vex

[X] Futanari

[X] Healing Uncommon, reason Church.

[X] 1 and 2

And so, you are burdened with both the capability and, some would say, duty of both male and female genders.

Though, perhaps, some would call it a blessing?

The Church certainly doesn’t. But that is perhaps because they are not wont to talk much about it. And why would they? Futanari are more rare than MEN are. And, at a population discrepancy of 100-200 women to a single man, men are rare as it is.

There are plenty of women who have been born, lived and died of old age without so much as knowing the blessed touch of a man. There are women, poor and forsaken who have turned their fortunes around simply due to the unlikely but incredible luck of bearing a son. But then, the Church calls events such as these miracles.

But what do they call you? Nothing.

They do not speak of you. They do not talk of you. Yet, here you are all the same. The world doesn’t unconditionally worship you like it would as if you were a man, but it cannot help but adore you all the same for having the capabilities of one. It does not know where to place you, so, perhaps, it’ll place you in a deep underground hole so that it doesn’t have to decide?

The church is certainly capable of that.

There is no unified faith across all species, but the goddesses are the goddesses and the goddesses are to be pacified. They contend among themselves and the mortals, showing, in turn, favor or displeasure. Ruination or salvation. In return, they demand one thing from everyone. And the price they demand is Cult.

Your worship for their pleasure.

And what does that pleasure get you? The ability to endure the world. Wounds that would not naturally heal, events that would result in maimings and, yes, even the grave are not all necessary endings. The power to heal, through servants of the gods, run strong across all the species of the world. Magic might not be an entirely theological endeavor, but even wizards who heal pay heed to the church.

Or else.

There are always weirdos in the sticks, in the wilds or in the slums of the cities offering services on the down low for prices or favors obscene. But they are out of the Church’s hands and, perhaps, that is worth the costs. But then, YOU don’t have a reason to hate the church, do you?

Not when you are:

[] A peasant, reared and brought up on the articles of the church. (Church knows about your futanari nature. Will have influence over you and will try to steer you in their direction every now and then but it will be amicable. Flexible intro.)

[] From the middle class, taught and educated by Priestess. (Church doesn’t know about you and so doesn’t have much influence or reason to care about you as anything but another woman. Discovery of your futa goodness will probably never be in your terms. Freest of all intros with the biggest pitfalls.)

[] A noble, blessed just by virtue of being born and so beyond redoubt whatever your genitals might be. But also? Burdened with expectation. (Church knows about your futa dick and can’t do jack squat about it. But you will have Noble duties and expectations to tie you down at any point in time. Intro with the least pitfalls but also with the least flexibility.)

EDIT: [] A Priestess, one for whom the Church is mother and father. (Church knows about your futa dick but it's going to use that fact to further it's interests. Very little flexibility but, perhaps, there is ultimate freedom in that?)

[] Write in, though I’ll be the one to determine the effects of the write-in. Check with me if you want to talk about it.

No one, however, is an island to themselves. Not even humanity, with its many races and variants. The goddesses of humanity aren’t the only ones around, after all.

There exist other species other than your own. Created, or misbegotten, by other deities that may or may not have womankind’s best interest in mind. Usually, the answer is “no”. But there are deities that more than one race claims as their own and worship in their own obviously wrong ways.

There are even races that try to “steal” and “seduce” your own dieties away with gross displays of brinkwomanship and loud efforts of showomanship. And it wouldn’t be so bad when it was just the Dwarves and the Elves doing it, but also goblins, orcs and even ogresses have been known to get in on it. The enemies of womankind, knowing that they can’t face against the sheer weight of human tits, attempt to steal your power from above.

They have all failed of course, Shena and Rhea were never really human goddess anyway, but more disturbing than that are, of course, the Beastwomen.

Original Races, such as the first-born Elves, the right-born Dwarves or the Inheritor Humans have nothing to worry about the Evil-Borne Orcs, the Infestation of Goblins and the Obscene Ogress. And all the other spawn of evil goddesses. You all have multiple wars behind you to prove it. You all have multiple horrors and inflected tragedies on each of these to prove it. You have, in a word, endured.

But there are newcomers.

Animals of the wild are not any more prevalent to being blessed with the male gender then anyone else is. Yet, for the ecosystem to survive, they have to produce enough to get by. Or, at least, that’s what you all thought.

Did it never seem weird to your ancestors how women caught by wolves, bears or tigers would always render a devoured corpse yet a man, upon being disappeared by the tragedies of the forest, the desert or jungle would never turn up a single scrap? It’s not just the sapient who craves men. Animals do too. But you all mistook the fact that they never kidnapped males from other species as them not engaging in the male taking of sapient species.

When the males they sought could never be found in other animal species.

But you all should have. No goddess doesn’t bless their worshipper with the ability to lay and reproduce with any men they are lucky enough to have. Not even evil ones. But animals don’t have gods.

They shouldn’t have been able to make anything of it.

Yet they have.

The Beastwomen. The progeny of multiple generations of men caught out in the wild and bred, bred and bred for multiple generations. With daughters, grandaughters and decendants again and again until they have stolen the glory of womenkind.

Godless they were once called. But that is maybe not so true anymore. There are whispers, in the far rung parts of the realms that some of your goddess have betrayed you. There are silenced proclamations in far flung churches that humanity have failed the goddess and so they have blessed Newcomers. That emergent Kingdoms from the animal world will rise and takeover as Inheritors from Womankind.

But these heretics are rightfully burnt at the stake. And the whispers are nothing but that, rumors.

You would know, your little slice of humanity is surrounded by:

(Select up to three)

[] Elves

[] Orcs

[] Dwarves

[] gnomes

[] goblins

[] ogresses

[] minotauress (Qualify as both Fantasy and Beastwomen.)

[] centaurs (Qualify as both Fantasy and Beastwomen.)

[] Wolfwomen

[] Bearwomen

[] Owlwomen

[] Pantherwomen

[] Sharkwomen

[] Alligatorwomen

[] Hawkwomen

[] Halflings

[] write-in (Seriously, suggest something on the comments and I'll put it on the poll.)

EDIT 1: Added Sharkwomen and Alligatorwomen.

EDIT: Added Hawkwomen and Halflings.