Extreme Sex Quest 12

Yeah, the vote was not even close.

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.

[X] “A dick-measuring contest between you and my dear wife? Loser has to do what the winner says.” (You’ll get to claim Sigal as you wish.).

The futa filly seems ready to accept the challenge with gusto, steam flying out of her nostrils and her hooves furrowing the ground.

Her bravado is given a pause in the aftermath of your wife’s challenge.

“A dick-measuring contest?” she asks in hushed tones, not being able to keep her eyes from going to your cock.

“A dick-measuring contest?” you reply, looking at your wife with a stern look.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Alama replies with absolutely no shame, “While bearing witness to your violence is usually an exciting prospect, I could not in good conscience allow a situation where TWO precious bearers of maleness could be hurt.”

Every single woman there, Centaur or human, nodded at that.

Even the mares the townswomen guards were riding seemed to agree.

Athena even gave her older sister a snort of respect.

“Hush, you,” you grunted to the mother of your first children. Unlike the ladies around you, the thought of breaking Sigal, for the good of womenkind of course, made it hard to keep standing around as your wife arranged this duel.

You had so many wonderful ideas!

“W-well, I suppose protecting a dick like-I mean, your wife is only to be expected,” Sigal’s eyes finally look away from your dick, “But do you truly mean it? Should I win that futa Noble is mine?”

You were outnumbered rather heavily, and outweighed many times over. That wouldn’t matter against your sword arm, or your wife’s for that matter, but the bravado of the filly seems to have been forgotten as she visibly drools over your dick. Figures she’d misinterpreted Alama’s words like that.

You open your mouth to correct her-

“Yes!” your wife cuts you off, a gleeful smirk in her face, “The loser belongs to the winner!”

While “the winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser” can be interpreted as “the winner wants to take the loser as their own”, there are enough armed forces in either side of the parties present here to make such an interpretation dicey.

However, if you outright declare that to be the stakes, well, the room for the losing party to complain goes down to zero.

As distracted and naive as the filly is, she did not seem to catch on the difference and the escalation of stakes that she seemed to have inadvertently to have raised.

Do you want to correct her?

[]...it would be an educational experience for the young Filly to pay attention , wouldn’t it?. (Sigal becomes part of the harem.)

[] It would be honorable. (You only fuck Sigal this one time.)

“Well, as a chieftess, I suppose it is up to me to take what I want,” Sigal allows, her fingers shaking and she walks forward.

She takes a deeep breath upon getting to the midpoint, and looks at you with unabated greed, “Behold, the maleness of a Centaur!”

She rears back, her horse dick bobbing up and down in the air, her huge testicles jiggling in fascinating manners.

When she comes back down, her hooves make the ground shake as she cruelly smirks, “Don’t feel too bad about losing, oh Lady knight.”

“After all, you are only human.”

“How about it, love?” Alama gives you a knowing look.

“I should feel bad about this,” you began as you get off from your horse, your cock sliding past the flank of your mare.

Every single lady looks between you and Sigal attentively as you walk towards, not being able to resist the urge to let your hips swing side to side as you do so, making your futa dick trace the symbol of infinity in the air, “But I really want to punish this stupid bitch.”

“Come then, little knight!” the 14 year old crosses her arms under her bountiful breasts and LAUGHS, “Put your dick against mine!”

That phrase alone actually made some of the women there orgasm, the impossibility of seeing two cocks at once overwhelming their direst desires. Although your hips swinging your impregnator around might have also figured into it.

By the time you met your opponent midway between your groups, this has stopped being a matter of life and death and had, instead, transcended into being something greater.

This was now a battle for the reproductive future.

You saddled next to her legs, took your huge cock with both of your hands-

“No,” Sigal’s eyes went wide.

-And propped it up next to hers.

Your dick, with it’s two feet of length, 8 inches longer than Sigal’s foot and 4 inch long horse erection.

Something that should have been plainly obvious to anyone that looked at you.

“How could this be?” the centaur minions of Sigal cried, proving your supposition wrong but, really? 8 inches was not a small difference!

“Incredibly!” the townswomen woop in triumph, proving that they, too, might just be blind.

“This cannot be,” Sigal staggered away from you, her back hunching in defeat, her knees trembling.

You sighed and your wife gives you a helpful shrug that says “heh, peasants, whatever shall we do?”

“This cannot-I want a do-over!” Sigal’s hands clench and she looks at you with anger.

“Very well?” you dubiously agree.

The futa filly saddles over by your side and…your dick is still bigger.

“Impossible!” Sigal cries as she stomps the ground, “I know I can win! Again!”

“It’s not really going to change-” you begin to say but she already smacking your hips with her own, making her dick proudly stand against yours.

She is still a foot and 4 inches, “Noooo! Another! I demand another challenge!”

“...ok,” you consider giving putting a stop to this but, really, maybe it’s just best to let her get tired.

You win again, of course.

As well as the next 9 times.

“I demand another try-” Sigal desperately begins to say, tears starting to swell in her eyes.

“-ENOUGH!” you, however, are more than fed up with it, “Even if you are fetching when you are this desperate, I have been more than honorable about this!”

“I declare victory,” you growl and look down on Sigal despite the fact that she is vastly taller than you are.

All the same, she shrinks, “O-ok.”

You are reaching for her head and grabbing her by the hair even as the words leave her mouth.

You pull her down to your level and you kiss those lips.

As the mounted townswomen cheer you on, as the centaur band despair at being defeated like this, you are already thinking about how you shall take your price.

You-

[] Fuck her cock with your virgin vagina. (This is the Dominant option. The rape option, even. Might result in your impregnation. Loses your virginity.)

[] Take pity on her and scratch her woman itch. (By the standards of everyone in this world, this is the "loving" option, no matter how rapey you might want it to be . It might result in an impregnation that might not matter depending on the other choice of this update.)

[] Write-in (I will not allow a “why not both?” option, but other then that suggest something that you’d like to see in the comments.

Extreme Sex Quest 11

The votes are as follows:

Centaur Leader is a chick 1(1)+4(3)=13

Centaur Leader is a dude 1(1)+1(3)=4

Centaur Leader is a Futa 2(1)+1(2)+3(3)=13

But that resulted in this tie.

Normally, I would be able to combine the choices into something nice, but not this time around. This time, I really DO have to choose one. And so, after flipping a coin, I have arrived at the winner:

[X] Centaur Leader is a Futa.

“I” a woman with a light coat of off-purple fur stepped up, “-am Sigal, the Raid Mistress!”

“And I-” she declared as she cantered forward, huge tits in her chest flapping even as something much MUCH more interesting flapped in the wind, “Represent no one but myself!”

Beast Tribes splitting and going their own way was not rare and was, point in fact, the “normal” way their kind spread. Given what you had been told of the Centaur tribes in the Alastar lands, however, how they were still recovering from the last purge conducted on them a few generations ago, you all assumed that this must have been the arm of one of them.

Because them splitting up when they were still so few would have been demented.

But the horse dick that bounced up and down between the Centaur’s crotch explained things neatly.

This Centaur woman, this Sigal was a futa.

Just. Like. You.

“My, my,” your wife puts a hand to her mouth in shock, and that sentiment is spread among the guardswomen with you. A spike of ugly black jealousy wells up in your chest, causing you to shoot her an ugly glare.

But the knowing look she gives you back makes you flush.

You weren’t a cuck….probably.

Probably!

“You have taken the peasant’s men,” you state, looking at your counterpart dead in the eye, “A direct strike against the town’s very survival. But then you also took the governess’ man.”

“Which is a strike against the Alastar family itself,” you gravely intone, your wife nodding with a happy smile behind you, “One compels me to act as a knight. The other? As a…sigh, wife.”

“You don’t sound very happy about that last one.” Sigal’s tail swishes back and forth.

“The point is-” you grunt, not really wanting to get into that, “I am here to stop you.”

“So draw your sword, oh, lady knight,” Sigal sneers down at you, “Let us taste our steels!”

“That is, if you are willing to harm this manly temple,” the Centaur sways back and forth, making her cock swing like a pendulum, and her absolutely ridiculously HUGE testicles like sacks filled with gold.

White liquid gold.

Your eyes trace them and the wind, almost as if answering the call of the horse woman, brings the virile scent of FUTA STALLION over to you.

It makes your mouth water, and your nipples tingly…and it makes your own beast rise up from it’s depths.

It’s painful, armored as you are, but oh, what is pain if not another way to enjoy being titilated by such male appendage?

But…no.

No, no, no.

You are a knight. Even if the simple sight and smell of those male proportions makes you understand the ruthlessness of your own wife in acquiring your hand you can…just beat her down and preserve her preciousness.

Yessssss.

“Love,” Alama knocks her elbow against your cuirass and makes you blink.

“Is that some sort of Centaur witchery?” you find yourself asking as you shake your head, “I was almost spellbound.”

“Ah, no,” your wife gives you a maternal look of condensation, “That’s just the effect that a dick has on people, love.”

“...I knew that,” you blustered but you can’t help but blush.

“Thank goodness,” your wife continues on as if she didn’t hear you, “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t be able to enjoy the perks of being a woman.”

“Honor,? Duty?” Sigal laughs, “They are nothing besides the divine blessing bestowed upon me! Look me in the eye and tell me actions don’t justify themselves!”

You give her a sad look, “Having both female and male assets doesn’t mean you only get the benefit of both, Miss Sigal.”

“How would you know that?” she scoffs.

“Because,” Alama smirks at the Centaur leader as she undoes your belt without noticing. Your armor skirt comes loose, and you can’t stop her in time to keep her from reaching into your panties.

And pulling out your cock.

“-you are not the only one so blessed.”

Now, it’s the Centaur’s turn to have their eye buggle as they visually devour every inch of your two foot long human cock.

The Centaur Leader’s face immediately goes a deep red as her futa horse cock starts to bubble at the sight of yours.

Her hands twitch but, just like you, she manages to snap out of it in time.

“What of it!” she screams, “I have a dozen women with me, while you only have five. I still have the men and you have nothing to give me!”

“I have the upper hand in these negotiations and you shall listen to me!”

“That’s not how this-sigh,” the look you give is definitely unimpressed, “Pardon me, but how old are you, enemy mine?”

“14 summers old,” the newly revealed futa filly declares, “What of it?”

“Well,” your wife chuckles in a way that sends a shiver down your spine, “Well, well, well.”

“Not just a futa centaur, but a filly to boot,” she shakes her head, “No wonder she thought all of this was a good idea.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sigal crosses her arms across her bountiful chest as she growls. It gives you a moment to look at her. Really look at her.

Her human half had the visage of a white maiden with white hair with purple highlights. Now that you know that the Alastar Centaurs were basically just an extension of the Alastar family, it made hard not to notice the connections. Her arms were slim, the abdominal muscles in her stomach were incredibly defined, and her horse fur started growing around the point where her human half joined the centaur one.

.Not that this disappointed you, as her horse half was fetching too.

Unlike your mare, she had no crotch tits, but whereas Athena was muscled like a bull, Sigal had a runner’s body; slim legs, slim torso and slim hips dominated her horse body.

Oh, the sort of body that would be absolutely ruined with a few pregnancies~

Her swishing tail was pure purple, almost the color of your wife’s hair, and it served to hide a very cute and attractive horse pussy…

Of course, her cock was that of a horse, and it made you curious with all sorts of ideas. But her testicles might just be the most impressive set of organs that she possessed as they were absolutely monstrous.

“It means that you are not in front of prey dear-y,” your wife replies, “Just hot-blooded women.”

You find yourself licking your lips.

“Want to show this little girl how big the world is?” your wife gives an evil grin that is quite hard to not replicate.

“We…have to solve the situation,” you say with all of your control.

Duty first, you say to yourself, duty first.

“Take me seriously!” Sigal stomps on the ground with both her front hooves as even her gang/harem(?)/tribe(?) look away from you and cough into their hands.

“Ok, how is this?” Alama cheerfully says, “How about we resolve this with-”

[] “A simple fight between you and me?” Your wife gives you a sly look as she says it. (Alama “handles” Sigal. Will end up pregnant from it. NTR-ish)

[] “A dick-measuring contest between you and my dear wife? Loser has to do what the winner says.” (You’ll get to claim Sigal as you wish.)

[] “A duel between with me and my dear Celia. Surely a Raider Mistress can handle that much?” (You will rape this stupid filly together, as WIFE and WIFE. Pregnancy possible for the both of you.)

Author’s note: Option 1 is a little bit rape-ish. Option 3 definitely is.

Extreme Sex Quest 10, part 2

Extreme Sex Quest 10, part 2

And we continue from where we left off.

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.

Now, your dommy mommy explains everything and lets you know what she wants.

[X]...the thought makes you feel tingly.

“Indeed, the thought of cucking you barely misses my target zone,” your wife says as if she were talking about the weather, “It’s just as well, as it would have made our relationship rather impossible, right?”

You wanted to agree as you were not one of those deplorable deviants that likes seeing your spouse taken by others.

“Right?” your wife prods you as you still don’t respond.

And indeed you should, if only to stop her from getting the wrong idea. Alama was an impulsive woman, as you well knew, and you had been burnt more then once by these impulses. Leaving any doubt whatsoever that you did NOT want a big stallion stuffing its cock in a place that only belongs to YOU was horrifying. Smaller cocks, point in fact, were not better, as the thought of someone entering your wife easily was just as horrid.

The thought of cum not your own covering her, a body not your own warming her, the smell of sex from a foreigner staining the sheets of your bedrolls and even the thought of her seeing her stomach swell with a bastard was-

“Love?” Alama prods you in the shoulder, bringing you back into the world, “Why aren’t you answering? And why are you sweating? And why are you blushi-oh.”

You look at her like with the bottom falling out of your stomach.

“You like the thought, don’t you?” Alama coyly says, “My, my, and here I thought I was the one with deplorable hungers.”

“That’s not- I am not,” you try to defend yourself but your wife puts a tender finger in your lips.

“I am your loving wife, love,” she tells you, “And that means that I need to reward you for being oh so obedient, don’t I?”

You swallow at that.

“Now, while getting fucked by someone else while you watch doesn’t really get me going,” she starts, “Seeing you enjoy yourself to something so horrible definitely does!”

“...it’s not right,” you say, because you feel you have to.

“Well,” Alama rubs her chin, “We don’t have to go out right now and have the first peasant we see eat my patch of bush. Since this is something you seem to have problems coming to terms with, I can just, you know, raise the option when and where I can.”

“How does that sound?” she asked, managing to sound soothing and gentle and, for once, sounding like she means it.

“...I suppose,” you allow, because it’s the only thing you can allow yourself.

With luck, you’ll never say “yes”. Even if the image of your wife being fucked-

-No. Best to stick with the issue at hand! “So, where do I think Centaurs come from, that was the question, right?”

“The tribes in Alastar lands, but yes,” she said with the sort of smile that indicated that she knew what you were thinking of, but chose not to prod.

“Well, the common thought it’s that it was one of the many immigrating Beast hordes that the Queendom drove out in times of old,” you shook your head, putting the other topic behind, “Given how many times your family went out to exterminate them, and invited others to do so, I am guessing that’s not the whole truth?”

“It never was,” Alama replied, smiling viciously.

“Peasants getting frisky with animals and then setting the unholy offspring loose could not have accounted for the tribes we see today,” you murmur as you think about the issue. If it were wild horse herds kidnapping men or boys like most animals would if given the chance, it would be self-explanatory. But there were no wild horses in Alastar lands and there never had been.

Someone or something had to take care of the young, at least long enough for them to organize themselves into-

“No,” you breathed as it suddenly dawned on you. Why your wife’s family’s sordid story mattered.

‘Yessss,” Alama gleefully replies. Not only did she know, she was happy about it.

“Your family is the source of the Centaurs,” you more state then say, “It’s why no matter how many times they are exterminated they keep coming back! It’s why they are a perpetual problem!”

“From beginning to end, there is not a single thing in Alastar lands that our family doesn’t have a toe in,” Alama says with pride, “Both its prosperity and its hardships are due to us!”

“But how?” you fumble, “Or why?”

“Well, when I say that our family went through a lot of failures to get to the horses that we are known by or the strong women of our family, I don’t just mean the stillbirths and the girls that died in childbirth,” Alama replies, “Centurs are a natural consequence of the breeding regime we made ourselves go through.”

“And, don’t get me wrong, we killed most of them,” she brushed you off before you could ask about that, “Point in fact, there has not been a single Alastar girl that doesn’t know what centaur tastes like and its almost always our siblings. We give them THAT privilege at least.”

“And we did our duty once,” your wife admits, “We would cull all that wasn’t horse or women and through the reminders into a ditch or pot. But then, one day, it happened:”

“A male centaur was born.”

“...oh,” you lamely say. Truth be told, that would be a massive theological and moral conundrum, “So why didn’t you keep the male centaur alive and kept killing the rest?”

“Because the sheer existence of a Centaur brought up questions about our family that we would have rather not answered,” Alama replied, “We would be able to get away with it now, of course; the church even seems to think we let the tribes live so that they supply us with males every so often, but back then before we were insulated from consequences, well, that was more dangerious.”

“No, if we wanted to keep that great-great-great and so on Uncle of mine alive, well, we needed to set it free….along with sisters to protect it, of course.”

“The first tribe,” you say.

“Indeed,” your wife nods, “Since then, we’ve gone and killed them whenever they grew too large but give them what male centaurs are born to our family. We even occasionally give them female centaurs too, now less than how it used to be, of course, but we keep them healthy regardless of what happens.”

“In exchange, we source horse and, rarely, human males from them as well as, occasionally, even female flesh to reinforce our family whenever too many of our members died in the Queendom’s various wars.”

“Your horses or your Noble sisters?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Hmmm, yes,” Alama replies after thinking about it, “The point is, it’s a win-win for everyone!”

“Then what about this town?” you sigh as you rub your forehead. No wonder your wife’s family seemed so resilient.

“Ah, well,” she becomes a bit embarrassed, “The tribes can’t survive off of just the male centaurs my mother or whichever of my sisters wants to try the “ancestral challenge” generate.”

“The tribes come to the villages to raid them for men,” you concluded.

“AND bring them whichever baby that happens to be fully human to them as well,” Alama interjects, “Well, for a certain definition of ‘human’ I suppose; the towns don’t disappear because the centaurs keep giving birth to the townsfolk, but that does mean a few, hmm, equine traits just don’t leave.”

“The point is, this is not supposed to be a one-way deal. Everyone is supposed to benefit from this arrangement….the peasants the least, admittedly, but then what’s new?”

The horse ears and, you were willing to bet, horse tails that the townsfolk have, “So that’s why the townsfolk are all so cagey? They are afraid they’ll be accused of being more affiliated with the tribes than human beings?”

“Historically, some have been.” Alama shrugged, “Wouldn’t be the first time my family has to wipe a town completely. Though. obviously, the tribes are being rather antagonistic to the townsfolk in this case.”

“You see the centaurs aren’t supposed to take ALL the males of any town,” Alama slightly frowned, “That would keep the townswomen from being able to give birth to some males of their own, screwing with the future generations of Centaurs from being able to get males from them. It’s a stupid strategy.”

“Is that why your family isn’t taking care of this by yourselves?” you ask.

“Well, we DID consider getting another purge on,” Alama mused, “But they are currently not big enough to take that sort of shock without problem. Our venues to talk to the tribes have, sadly, deteriorated a bit since the last purge, so we thought that just handling the troublemakers should be enough.”

“Alama, every single bit of this information was vital!” you whined as the scope of the problem was finally revealed to you.

“Well, yes, but now that you now,” Alama says as she extends a finger to your chin, “You’ll do things perfectly and I’ll be robbed of some of your delicious suffering.”

“Are tragedies the thing you get off to?” you grumble.

“Among other things,” Alama coyly says, “I was planning on letting you rough me up to make up for it, though.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” you roll your eyes, “And now?”

“Now,” she smiled, “I am going to use this one favor that you owe me to have you go BEYOND roughing me up.”

You stare at her.

“Not now,” she promises you, “But when there is a priestess or church holy enough to revive me? You are going to HURT me, you got it?”

You numbly nod at that.

“Good girl,” she kissed your nose.

A few days later, the meeting was arranged.

The town had a way to communicate with the Centaurs, proof itself that their relationship with them wasn’t completely antagonistic as it should have been, and a nice spot a few hour's ride away from the village was chosen.

The “delegation” was composed of the three women most intimidating women the Mayoress could fit, atop the tallest and healthiest mares that she could procure. Given that they were in Alastar lands, the horses actually looked a bit impressive but, the guardswomen, with their horse ears sticking out of their helmets and clad in hardened leather…didn’t.

But that was fine, a single knight in her horse was the equal of a dozen.

Which was lucky as that was around the number of Centaur women that turned up.

“I am Celia Harlocke,” you take the lead as this was YOUR quest, “Which one of you leads this band?”

And, out of the crowd that came, a single Centaur stepped up.

[] She was female. Her crotch tits were just as large as the ones hanging from her chest, which made you wonder if she could breastfeed from both sets. Smelled fertile.

[] She was rather a HE. A Male Centaur. No wonder he’d been able to get away with all of this. And also perhaps explained the tribe’s lack of restrain when taking the village’s males. Smelled virile.

[] She was just like you. A Futa. Huge cock and balls hang from her crotch and huge tits hung from her chest. Even from a distance, you could smell the musky scent of bestial fertility and virility.

Extreme Sex Quest 10

Alright guys, my cards on the table: I fucked up.

Lorewise, making Athena your concubine would not have been socially acceptable due to the ingrained antagonism to Beastwomen that women in this world have. The church wouldn’t have accepted it and neither would the normal folk. However…. you could still have done it. You merely would have had to deal with the problems that brought.

If that sounds interesting to you and you are angry that you didn’t know before, I can only apologize for this brain fart that I had as a writer.

If you wished you could have known beforehand so that you could have voted for something else, well, I can say that it’s a good thing it didn’t win? All around, I apologize for my fumble.

That aside, Alama won and that means you owe her a favor for this. She understands that what you are into are not necessarily what she is into, so she is going to go out of her way to collect a lot of these favors. Because she respects that you are a your own person.

That is, precisely, what makes dominating you so fun.

[X] Don’t. You’ll now be cheating on your wife whenever you fuck your horse….as she prefers it. [X]...insist that Alama tell you everything there is to know about this.

You stare at your wife.

You are rooming in the Inn of Civil Port, as in, the only building big enough to serve as an Inn for this town. It was also the Headwoman’s home and, naturally, you weren’t paying anything for your stay.

You agreed to attend the meeting, of course, but not without some dearly needed information about all of this. The Headwoman talked, and the horse-eared villagers had a lot to say, yet they were all singularly tight-lip about, well, many things. You thought about going to the church of this town as the clergy had always looked upon you with some manner of favor, but you had no idea if the priestess would be any more open to you than the folk of this town was.

The meeting wasn’t for a few days, so you had the time and opportunity to, somehow, get the information from them.

However, you thought you were just going to ask your wife.

“The last time you looked at me like that was the last time I raped you,” your lovely wife chirps, “Surely, if that's what also in your mind, we could make a little game~”

Going back to those times, when you were so helpless and weak, so ashamed of yourself that you’d-

“No, no,” you mutter, shaking your head. Maybe later-no, not ever! “I need to know what’s going on.”

“So ask around,” Alama shrugged.

“I'd rather ask the one that knows,” you fix your beautiful snake of a wife with a glare.

“Oh?” she chuckles, “So sure that I know anything?”

“These are Alastar lands,” you state, “There is absolutely no way that you, as the Alastar heir, don’t know what’s going on. So, if you truly are my wife, don’t keep in the dark!”

Alama hums as she looks at you, tilting her head here and there as she considers what you said.

“You are asking a hard thing of me,” she plainly tells you.

“I am part of the Alastar family now, am I not?” you grunt, “I am duty-bound to keep your secrets.”

“Oh, you are a wonderful chivalrous lady!” Alama cooes, “But that’s not it.”

“Then what is?” you ask.

“I can’t just tell you about this town without explaining almost everything,” Alama says.

“...we’ve got time,” you say, rising your eyebrows.

“I’d hoped this would come out during pillow talk, or in moments of depravity,” Alama mused as she thought about it, “I would slowly drip feed that the secret horrible past of my family, making you more and more thirsty for every singly drop of lore. Slowly make you more uncomfortable with being, hah, our wife as the reality of what you got into was uncovered.”

“But I suppose…” she whispered, “Alright, darling, you are killing a lot of my future fun so, if I do this, you have to agree that you owe me one.”

“W-we are already married!” You say, “What wouldn’t I agree to do for my ‘cherished’, sigh, wife?”

“Fuck my sister for one,” she pointed out.

“I almost made her my concubine!” you protest. Oh, the problems that would have gotten you would have been many, yet, if she was going to be carrying your children, it seemed imporper otherwise.

“And all of that happened because I slowly took away all other choices,” Alama confirmed what you had long suspected, “Honestly, I love that I still have to bend you around my fingers, that there are goals behind bending your will, but I am going to need to know that I can get something, hmm, improper out of this without first having to essentially seduce you into it.”

You thought about it, about all the she had done and the promises of more. Would it be cuckqueaning?

Would it be hurting her?

…would it be hurting others?

Your wife was like a well whose bottom you couldn’t see. You knew her depravity well, but you didn’t know how far it spread. Or where it ended.

In the end, however, you sighed and nodded your head, “Fine. One favor, and that’s it.”

What else could you say to your wife?

“Truly?” Alama was surprised by that, “I mean, yes, certainly!”

“You know, I am really starting to think that you like the dynamics of our relationship more then I previously thought,” she extended a hand and traced a finger through your chin, “I was right. We truly were made for each other.”

You shivered at that.

“So,” she retracted your finger and you found that you had briefly held your breath, “The history of the Alastar family is long and sordid. And by sordid, I mean very sordid.”

“The original Lady Alastar was a wondering knight long before she was given these lands,” your wife explains, “From whence she originally came, we do not know, but we do know she participated in the old wars against the Troll and the Orc.”

Long before the Beastwomen became the infestation that they were, the followers of the rightly goddesses waged cataclysmic wars against those of the dark. This was the main argument some heretics made about why Beastwomen had divine approval; because their mere existence had kept any one race from being able to wage war on those ancient scales.

Not when a horde of beastwomen could spring up from the woods, the dirt or the dessert seemingly from the nether.

“Anyway, we do know that she never married,” Alama went on and your eyebrows rose in surprise. Surely even back then there were enough male folk among the peasants to take? “Yet she spawned a rather fruitful line. Can you hazard why?”

“She had a secret lover?” you reckoned. It was incredibly common among Duchess to have lovers through their lives, especially if they weren’t currently married. But if it was a man, why not just marry him? “Someone else’s husband I am guessing?”

Your wife chuckled, “No.”

“You see, when my ancestress came to the Alastar lands, it was significantly more sparsely populated than it is today. The war had killed so much that, why, just about every woman in the county was waiting for the next generation of men to grow old enough to do their duty in the bedroom.”

“But my ancestress wasn’t content to wait. She was already in her thirties when she got her acclaims and her lands and if she waited for much longer we might not be here today.” Alama said.

“So what did she do?” you ask her.

“Now, when I say there were no male folk around,” your wife explained, “That’s not to say that there no males.”

“My ancestress, you see, rode on a rare stallion.”

“No,” you whisper, despite the fact that you were doing the same thing with your own mare. But you were just a mere consort knight, just because YOU were weak and your wife depraved, didn’t mean the founder of her line was!

Or it shouldn’t have!

“Yesss,” Alama breathed, “You are upkeep a family tradition, my dear.”

“Anyway, despite having generations of experience with it, predicting what sort of offspring breeding with beasts is going to give is…tricky. Thankfully, Ancestress Alastar’s firstborn daughter was indeed a human babe and not a mare,” she said, “But you know how close and desirable death can be, so she couldn’t stop at just that.”

“What is a Noble house without plenty of spares?” you rhetorically ask. You were the second oldest of your sisters, but not because you were second born. The proper heir of your family, your older sister, was actually the 4th daughter that your mother had. The rest had passed away.

And, to their credit, only a single one of them had not died in a way that wasn’t enviable. But disease could be a bitch like that.

You lost track of the way your various younger sisters bit the dust.

“Being a dutifully Lady, Ancestress Alastar never spend a moment more then she had to without a babe in her stomach. Right up until she died giving birth at the ripe age of 60,” Alama nodded, “There are still songs about how orgasmic that was if you ask around. But yes, out of 3 decades of being constantly pregnant, she only ever managed to give birth to 3 proper heirs.”

“The second child was, point in fact, a mare that the next Alastar Lady would eventually ride, and that is how the familial relationship was set,” she gestured towards the stables, were your horse lover was.

“Is that what’s gonna happen? Are you going to need to get fucked by a horse to give one of our daughters her own mare?” you flatly ask.

“Hmmm, if you are cuckquean, too, I guess I can manage,” your wife shrugged, “But no, dear Athena should be pregnant by this point and, should that be a mare, half-sisters have more than once taken up the post.”

“So your ancestress fucked a horse, made 3 heirs and a bunch of horses?” you asked, not really willing to get into THAT conversation at just this moment.

“She made 3 heirs and 4 mares,” your wife corrected, “The ‘natural’ mix of a woman and a beast, as you well know, tends toward the godless.”

“Centaurs,” you guessed.

“Yeah, she had to discard many of those,” the Alastar heir says.

That…explained a lot, actually. Bestiality was looked down upon now, but it wasn’t really an actionable thing. A loss of face or reputation awaited women who indulged in it, but then mostly if their progeny wasn’t human.

And never when it was a male.

That long ago? The only way the original Alastar would not have been killed by her peers was IF she had a male to justify her repeated transgression. But then, why were they worried now?

And then it occurred to you that Alama and Athena were sisters.

“Your family never stopped?” you were more than a bit incredulous.

“The four horses ancestress Alastar created was what set our family up,” your wife laughs, “‘Alastar horses’ have been a byword for excellence since forever, hah!”

“And what, interspecies breeding is the secret?” you flatly asked.

“Selective interspecies breeding,” your wife corrected, “It’s not just that the Alastar strider comes from a human womb. I dare say it's that they come from an Alastar womb.”

“That sounds like your family trying to justify bestiality,” you confess.

“But it DOES justify it,” your wife disagrees, “It wasn’t just the stallions that were put to the test; every single Alastar girl, from the heir to the most useless one, were supposed to at least bring a single equine offspring to term before they could go out and do anything else.”

“So it was that only the strongest Alastars survived. Hundreds of Alastar girls died following our ancestress' example before we could even turn 14,” Alama says. “It’s not just our horses that shine. I mean, did you never wonder how I took your virginity without trouble?”

“...2 feet isn’t too big,” you self-consciously say.

“It might have killed anyone else,” your wife happily informs you, “Of course, the Alastar horse herds are big enough that no girl in our family has NEEDED to as much in generations, but our family enjoys the benefit of centuries of only those strong of bodies surviving to make the next heirs.”

“This is profoundly terrible,” you sighed as you rubbed your forehead. Dying wasn’t bad. Dying was fine. Everyone died. Some even managed to die to a man!

But instead of dying in the line of duty, or happily having your life taken by a fetching male, the Alastar family practically discarded their daughters. Giving birth was supposed to be an intensively orgasmic experience, and dying while doing might even magnify that, but if it was all the name of making more mares….that just meant a human life was traded for an animal.

It was fucked up.

“Wait, if they don’t need to it, why do you have Athena?” you ask.

“Most Alastar matriarchs believe that the Alastar Lady needs to be able to pass the test their forebearers did,” your wife replies.

“But not you?” you inquire.

“I don’t really care,” she shrugs.

But do you?

[]...the thought makes you feel tingly. (The option to have your wife go through a centaur pregnancy, something that will put her body to the test, will be available in the meeting.)

[] Eugh, not really. (No NTR option.)

“Ok, as fascinating as all of this is, I don’t think it explains anything about our current situation,” you shake her head.

“I am just getting to it,” Alama promises.

“Tell me, where do you think the Centaur tribes in Alama lands come from?”

(To be continued.)

Writer edit: Yeah, this is a lore dump. By asking Alama about it you are going to get told EVERYTHING.

Extreme Sex Quest 9

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.

Now, the Peace route overwhelmingly won so here you go.

This is how your first quest begins.

[X} Go to one of the attacked Villages (Peace Route)

The Alastar lands were significantly bigger than their standing or power would indicate. And why would it? It was mostly empty plains and a few desolate forests, populated by nothing except wild animals.

And a few centaur tribes.

The rise of the Beast Women was the topic of much theology and speculation. Technically, all that needed to take place was for a Beast Woman to be born was for the “sin” of Bestiality to take place. But there were usually many signs of burgeoning animal “ascension” happening when a man fell to the wild, and few of those had ever been present in Alastar lands.

It was why, to anyone’s best guess, the centaurs had somehow escaped to these plains from somewhere else in tribal numbers. And why not? Wars to cull and exterminate their kind had been happening since the Queendom had been established.

But there were whispers, thrilling if hateful things, that the answer was simpler and more insidious:

While a female beast fucking a man was a clear sin, and one any religious figure would condemn…what about the opposite?

What about a lonely woman managing to find and tame a male animal for herself?

A Beast Man was a widely admired spoil of war and raiding, whose gain was thought of as a reclamation for womankind. So what did that make the rare male beast, for whom the prohibitions still applied?

Supposedly, it is still a sin.

Though there had never, in all their history, ever been a woman chastised for looking for solace in the company of a male animal.

So those less inclined to think well of the peasantry looked to them for blame, and claimed that the Alaster Centaur problem was a mess born of remote communities just trying to generate another generation to take over for them. Because sometimes, towns and villages had the bad luck of losing all of their men.

It was a rather saucy accusation, but it was also one the Alastars did not try very hard to deny. Then again, they had no official stance about the origins of the Beast Women in their lands. As if it the question did not matter to them.

Which, well, you supposed it didn’t.

The forestry lands of your family slowly turned into sparse copes that then started going from hilly stretches of land to flat tall grasses that spread everywhere. You went north, and the trip of a simple week was enough for cold winds to start coming in and buffeting the armor forms of both you and your wife.

Somewhere along the line, you managed to convince her to ride with you atop…did she say sister?

Seriously?

But something greater then this bugs you about it all.

“Ok, enough,” you say to your, sigh, wife when you stop to eat something and she offers to give you time aline with your new horse, “I know you are a depraved woman-”

“-how unkind,” Alama laughs.

“But I might have as well married your sister of a horse, and don’t you believe for a second I am going to stop asking about your relation, instead of you with how I’ve been carrying on things!” you explode at her.

“Why?”

Your wife, the mentor who sexually harassed, raped, and even forced herself into being your spouse, had never been shy about wanting you. About being intimate with you. About fucking you.

So, why when she finally had you…did she not have you?

Your wife hummed for a moment before she sighed, as if she were the one that was put upon.

“Well, dear, that’s just,” Alama walked over to you and padded your head, “I AM a depraved woman.”

“You like seeing me fuck a horse that much?” you said disbelievingly.

“I enjoy seeing my wife fucking someone else that much,” your wife purred and as her eyes turned hot.

…oh.

“Having my honeymoon taken right before my very eyes by my own sister, a beast at that!, has been one of the greatest fantasies that I have ever been able to live out,” she shuttered happily.

“Feeling as if you are slipping away through my fingers, being there while you are unfaithful? Oooh, goddesses, it has been so GRAND!” she moans out loud and has you staring at her.

“...you are cuckquean!” you gasped, “But wait, unfaithful? You’ve been pressuring me into this!”

“Yes, well, I was able to pretend for a while there,” Alama sighed, “But I suppose all good things must come to an end.”

Athena chose that moment to whine askance.

“Oh, you have got to be pregnant by this point, dear,” Alama waved the complaint away, “Though it’s not like my wifey here is going to completely stop giving you her dick, are you love?”

“Truly? Cuckqueaning, was this really what this has all been about?” You refuse to allow her to skip the subject.

“Love, if you like,” Alama sighed, “You could make dear Athena one of your official women. The idea of you presenting her as a concubine tickles my humor, in truth.”

“But the thought of you cheating on me is just so hot,” she confesses.

And then flutters her eyes cutely at you.

….

[] Make Athena your concubine, an official part of your harem. (Technically, that endows Athena with some expectations….but when are those going to ever come up for a horse?

[] Don’t. You’ll now be cheating on your wife whenever you fuck your horse….as she prefers it. (This will make your wife happy.)

You get to an old village by the name of Civil Port just before a vast expanse of grass begins.

There are about 200 people living here in various hutts of brick and mud. The headwoman’s home is wooden, as is proper, but that’s about the only proper thing in this place.

The palisade wall around it is broken in various places, including the gate, so you and your women just gallop into town. Some of the houses are even broken down husks, though they did have people working on them. The townswomen are going through the paces living in it, transporting goods and food around, but they managed to simultaneously look both miserly and content.

Maybe they heard that help was on the way?

One of them gasp, and pointed at you, “I-it’s the Ladies!”

Why no, she wasn’t pointing at you.

She was pointing at the House emblems in Athena’s saddle.

Immediately a huge crowd of people came out to see you.

And as they did so, they allowed you to see one more strange thing:

They all head horse ears.

They were completely human but for that feature, but that only brought in questions that you were sure the church was hard-pressed to answer.

This speculation only lasted until headswomen, an old woman with lines on her face, broke through and did a bow to you.

She, notably, had normal human ears, so maybe all was not yet lost.

“My Ladies,” she said, “Did you perhaps hear about the ransom?”

You look at Alama, who doesn’t answer. No, she instead gestures towards the village head.

This is your Quest, went unsaid.

“We came here because of the Centaur problem,” you grunt, “So this is verily the first we hear of how what villainous deeds they’ve done.”

Then you look around at the state of the palisade and the ruined homes, “Though I suppose much of it is obvious.”

“Oh that?” the woman quirked an eyebrow as she gestured towards what you were seeing, “I suppose that’s bad, yes.”

You open your mouth and then you close it, “...a ransom you say?”

“They took my boy!” the old woman cried.

One of the Centaur tribes in the plains has gotten big enough to apparently start raiding and kidnapping men folk from the villages at the edges of the grasslands. Lucky for you, there is a meeting coming where the Headwoman of Civil Port is supposed to pay them certain amounts of foodstuff to not just disappear with her “boy”.

Which gives you an opportunity to talk to them and get their measure. And, perhaps, resolve things.

Anything you want to do before you go to the meeting?

[] There is a church nearby, see what their take on the situation is.

[]...insist that Alama tell you everything there is to know about this. (WIll incur a favor from her.)

[] Fuck it, just go to the meeting. (There is no way to “lose” the peace route, but you’ll have less choices. Mind, this gets to the sex quicker.)

EDIT: Forgot to add the Athena concubine vote. >_> Alright, that is fixed.

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