by Rowan Bree
Back to the start.
—
A blade of grass wavers in the dry wind. Your mouth waters just looking at it, not having tasted anything green in a long time. The hellscape is vast, the city of Tyven and who knows how far beyond is a charred wasteland. You have not tried to venture out past the city walls as the streets are dangerous and full of beasts and cutthroats. And Vale no doubt still looking for you.
Only the worst of the citizens are allowed to roam free. Anyone with even the slightest decency is turned into a slave, or worse. The only way out is to pledge yourself to the Order, but you know that’s not an option for you.
A clawed foot tramples on the blade of grass and you almost let out a whimper, but catch it at the last moment. From your view behind the sewer grate you can’t see what the clawed foot is attached to, but you know it’s nothing good. If it were to find you down here, in one of the last safe places, your life would be over. Not that there is much to miss.
You do what you need to in order to survive, just like the rest of them. You’ve learned to trade what you have for that which you need. The others living underground are grateful for what you have, but sometimes they take more than you’re willing to give. Even so, it’s better than what the monsters would do to you. Or Vale.
Your stomach grumbles and you turn away from the sewer grate, back towards the tunnel that leads down into the waterways. Maybe you’ll run into the quiet reptilian man who will give you a couple days’ rations for sucking his double cocks. If not, there’s always the underground market, though every time you go they seem to demand more and offer less in return.
Maybe someday you will be brave enough to venture out past the city walls to see how far the corruption has spread. Maybe you’ll find a safe place. Maybe there’s hope across the sea. Or maybe you’ll spend the rest of your days trading your body for food until either the food runs out or Vale finds you. Who knows.
THE END
Back to the start.
—
A blade of grass wavers in the dry wind. Your mouth waters just looking at it, not having tasted anything green in a long time. The hellscape is vast, the city of Tyven and who knows how far beyond is a charred wasteland. You have not tried to venture out past the city walls as the streets are dangerous and full of beasts and cutthroats. Only the worst of the citizens are allowed to roam free. Anyone with even the slightest decency is turned into a slave, or worse. The only way out is to pledge yourself to the Order, the cult of black magic who brought these creatures to your realm, but even then your fate is at their mercy.
A clawed foot tramples on the blade of grass and you almost let out a whimper, but catch it at the last moment. From your view behind the sewer grate you can’t see what the clawed foot is attached to, but you know it’s nothing good. If it were to find you down here, in one of the last safe places, your life would be over. You learned that the hard way the night of the feast. It was a miracle you woke up at all, covered in cum and broken from the creatures’ abuse while you were passed out.
You do what you need to in order to survive, just like the rest of them. You’ve learned to trade what you have for that which you need. The others living underground are grateful for what you have, but sometimes they take more than you’re willing to give. Even so, it’s better than what the monsters would do to you. Or the Order.
Your stomach grumbles and you turn away from the sewer grate, back towards the tunnel that leads down into the waterways. Maybe you’ll run into the quiet reptilian man who will give you a couple days’ rations for sucking his double cocks. If not, there’s always the underground market, though every time you go they seem to demand more and offer less in return.
Maybe someday you will be brave enough to venture out past the city walls to see how far the corruption has spread. Maybe you’ll find a safe place. Maybe there’s hope across the sea. Or maybe you’ll spend the rest of your days trading your body for food until either the food runs out or you give yourself up to the Order. Who knows.
THE END
Back to the start.
—
The sun warms your naked skin as you lie in the quiet forest glade. The faun strokes himself lazily as he gazes upon you. You have come to enjoy your life in the forest under his care, away from the troubles of the kingdom. It is a simple life of pleasure, led only by the whims of your benevolent master.
Once in a while you hear whispers of what has happened in the capital, some more far-fetched than others. The king’s wife has returned from the dead, the mages have all been executed, or that Tyven has been overrun by monsters. Each new rumor seems to contradict the last. But none of it matters to you. Whoever you were before is gone. You belong to the forest now, and this is where you will stay.
THE END
Back to the start.
—
Time passes slowly in the dungeons. There is a sleeping pallet and high window, and a bucket to relieve yourself. Meals come twice a day at sunrise and sunset. You have nothing to mark the days by except your own mental count. It seems like a lifetime ago that you were free.
However, the boredom of captivity is far better than what the guards do to you when he mood strikes them. Apparently being an enemy of the crown makes you fair game for anything. They love seeing you humiliated.
Little news comes to you in your isolated cell, and what you hear is often contradictory. The Order seems to still have good relations with the king and a more visible presence in Tyven. If anything, Vale’s death seems to have improved their public image. Having lost your farce of a trial for treason, you are currently awaiting your day of execution. You are to be put in the stocks and left there until either the starvation kills you or you beg to be hanged, whichever comes first. Until then you are at the mercy of the citizens of Tyven, to whom you are a villain. The guards tell you that what they’ve done to you is nothing compared to what will happen to you in the stocks.
But all is not bleak. Hope has come to you in the form of a songbird at your window, one with a small roll of parchment tied to its leg. A brief note signed by Jasper, instructions for your escape.
Midnight of the new moon. Trust the guard. —J
The moon is waning. Soon it will seem to disappear from the sky altogether. And then, so will you.
THE END
Back to the start.
—
The only world you know is the cage. You don’t know what’s happened to Tyven or the nobles, or even Vale. Sometimes he comes to see you. He strokes your hair and tells you you’re his special kitten, that he’s proud of you for all the progress you’ve made. But he never tells you of the outside world or his personal life.
Right now you are squished against the side of the cage while an imp takes its leisurely fill of you. Your body is already sticky with the cum of other creatures, ones less gentle than the imp. Vale wants to see if he can breed a half-imp. He says your body is changing, becoming more receptive to the seed of the creatures of the netherworld. Sooner or later you will start bearing infernal children. You’ve already had success hosting eggs of various kinds. He says when that happens you can finally be together. He won’t have to wear his gloves to touch you. You will be able to feel his cock inside you again.
The imp keeps to its sluggish pace, its cock sliding in and out, in and out, occasionally breaking rhythm as it changes holes. You wish Vale would bring you a new monster, something that will shatter your mind and make you beg for it to do depraved things to you. Just the thought of it makes you wild. You push the imp down to ride him hard until you come, making the imp’s cock spasm inside you. Maybe this time you’ve finally created the infernal child that Vale wants. Or perhaps you will need to stay in the cage a bit longer.
THE END
Back to the start.
—
Vale sits on the throne that once belonged to the king of Tyven. Now it belongs to the king of all realms, above and below. On his head is a crow
n of scorched human bones.
Around your neck is a collar, a mark of your servitude. You wear nothing else. Your place is in a cage in the center of the throne room. Often there are others in the cage with you, creatures handpicked by Vale’s most trusted servants to make sure he is entertained. Him, and anyone who passes through the throne room. Vale has made clear your place in his new world. You are a toy to be used as he wishes.
Right now you are squished against the side of the cage while an imp takes its leisurely fill of you. Your body is already sticky with the cum of other creatures, ones less gentle than the imp. But you are used to it now. You have resigned yourself to be bred by these monsters.
Over your shoulder you watch Vale as he reads the most recent letters from the heads of the Order in each city. The takeover was fast. Most nobles bowed to their new leader without question.
The imp keeps to its sluggish pace, its cock sliding in and out, in and out, occasionally breaking rhythm as it changes holes.
Vale throws down the letters and sighs dramatically. “I’m bored.” He snaps his fingers for a servant to attend him. “Bring kitten something new to play with. Surprise me.”
You let out an involuntary moan, excitement making you tremble. Every time you are bred you lose a little more of yourself. It’s worse when the monsters are rough with you, and the new ones usually are. Sometimes you are unable to move for days afterwards. Other times your mind is shattered and you lose yourself to madness. You beg and beg for depraved things to be done to you, listening in horror to the words coming out of your mouth.
You have not completely lost yourself yet. There is still hope you can find your way back from the darkness. But maybe you don’t want to.
THE END
Back to the start.
This adventure may be over, but the world of Tyven is ever-expanding.
Find me online at rowanbree.wordpress.com and on Amazon.
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