“You mortals suffer such tragedies,” says Theora. “I do not envy you, Lucas.”
“Thanks?” You chuckle, kicking at a stick poking out of the fire. It stirs the flames and a puff of sparks rises into the night.
Theora waves her hand and produces a silver flask from the air. She unscrews the top and pours the contents of the flask into two wooden cups from the meal you made. She hands one cup to you.
You smell the liquid in the cup and are surprised by the pleasant strawberry-like aroma.
“Velegna,” she says. “It is a holy alcohol brewed by my sister angels from the flower fruits that grow upon the golden fields of the higher planes. I salute your courage, Lucas. You may not be the strongest or wisest hero Veleda has ever chosen, but I believe you might be the most courageous.”
“I couldn’t have done this without you, Theora,” you say, knocking your cup against hers. She tilts the cup to her full lips and drinks heartily. You pour the honey-sweet liquid into your mouth and swallow a large gulp.
It almost comes back up. It burns like fire as it goes down your throat. You resist the urge to scream in pain as it settles into your guts. You have to purse your lips and fight back the tears welling in your eyes.
“Good,” says Theora with a slight nod of her head. “You did not scream. Most mortals scream with their first sip of velegna. I saw one man die from a sip.”
“Not dead,” you croak. “Not quite.”
Theora gives you a playful punch in the arm. It is powerful enough to knock you off the back of the log. She bursts out laughing and gets up to help you to your feet. She gives you a strong pull and you thump against her breasts. She catches you with one arm so you do not fall over again.
You look up into her beautiful, overlarge silver-blue eyes. She is smiling at you and holding you against her. Your gaze flicks to her full, pink lips which are slightly parted. You feel the sudden urge to kiss the mighty angel. It is not as if you haven’t done such things before, but never in such a quiet and romantic moment. Your body aches with desire for Theora and your heart swells with more profound feelings.
What do you do?
Kiss Theora on her lips
Confess your attraction to her
Get some sleep
Watching Theora stare into the flames of your campfire makes you remember your mother and how she would stare at the cookfire in your farmhouse’s modest hearth. You never knew what became of your mother. After your father died, she was broken and simply disappeared one night as if she had never existed at all. It had been left to you to see that your sister made it to the wizard’s academy and that you maintained the family farm.
Struck by a wave of sadness, you sigh and rise from the log beside Theora. The angel slowly looks up at you, a similar sadness seeming to dwell in her silver-blue eyes.
“I am going to bed,” you say. “I have been too long on my feet. I cannot ride the sky like you or leap about like Morelle.”
“Right, yes,” says Theora, straightening her gown as she slowly rises. “You mortals exhaust yourselves so quickly. Best for you to conserve your strength for the battle tomorrow.”
She surprises you with an embrace, pulling you into her arms and squeezing you against the soft warmth of her bosoms. It is a chaste hug, but stirs your memories of previous embraces with the stern angel.
“Um, goodnight, Theora,” you say, not sure how to receive her unusually tender affection.
“Yes, sleep well, Lucas,” she says, returning her gaze to the fire.
You shuffle off to your tent, climbing inside the drafty canvas and beneath your blanket. Stretching out on the tattered bedroll is enough to make you groan with relief. Your weariness melts quickly into the darkness of sleep.
Violet light flashes in the darkness. You hear a haughty laugh and slowly the world coalesces around it. You stand before a towering, voluptuous woman with eyes that blaze with violet magic. She is the most exquisite beauty you have ever seen, even eclipsing Theora and Morelle, but her beauty is terrifying.
Her lavender-blonde hair cascades over her pale shoulders, her creamy breasts piled up by a corset, but her wide hips and tufted mound bare. Her long legs are sheathed in lavender stockings strapped to a garter that frames her hungry sex. The large, fat horns that curl from her forehead and her spread wings betray her demonic heritage. A fleshy tail curls around her left leg up to her thigh before seeming to look at you like a serpent, its slippery entrance dripping with nectar.
“Lady Rachelle,” you moan, paralyzed with awe at her ravishing beauty.
“Lucas LeBlanc,” she says, her voice as sweet as the sigh of a lover. “We meet at last. You are much smaller than I imagined.”
She pushes you to your knees with pressure on your shoulder and her ample thighs and lavender-tufted cunt descend to blot out the world. You inhale her scent, as intoxicating as any drug, and begin to lick without being told. Her nectar is as sweet as her smile and you lick, slurp, and swallow greedily. Her laughter shudders through her thighs.
“Yes,” she purrs. “Submit to your queen, Lucas. You never had a chance against me.”
You feel her cunt opening, wider and wider, pulling your face into her warm, slick folds. She seems to grow larger above you and her sex draws you into her channel. The scent of the demoness is overpowering. The pleasure of being swallowed up by her hungry cunt is greater than any you have experienced with a lover. As Rachelle draws you into her steamy pussy, you begin to cum.
“Delicious,” she pronounces as your body shrinks and dissolves into her like a sugar candy on her tongue. The darkness inside her gives way to a pulsing violet light. As you are drawn towards it, you feel your life ebbing away to nothing.
You awake to wetness on your face. Lips parted and a tongue prowling inside your mouth. You open your eyes and realize Morelle is kissing you, a faint violet energy crackling against her lips. You jerk away and she slowly opens her languid eyes.
“Good morning, Lucas,” she says and wiggles her soft, naked, and enticingly warm body against yours. You push her away and scramble out of the bedroll.
“You were feeding on me in my sleep!” You snap.
“Just a teeny-tiny bit,” she says, holding up her finger and thumb to measure the amount.
“Do not do that again or I will send you back to the sanctum,” you warn.
“Oh, alright,” she says, flopping onto her back, which causes her plump, creamy breasts to jiggle and spread. Your cock twitches in your trousers at the sight and you realize Morelle’s feeding has made you painfully aroused. You growl with annoyance, flip open the tent flap, and stalk out into the early morning chill.
Theora is already awake and cooking oat mash with golden tello berries, quail eggs, and thick honey-cured bacon over the fire.
“If you’re done being eaten by the succubus, come have some food yourself,” she says, giving the oat mash a last stir. “Eat well before we continue on your way. You need your strength.”
“We didn’t do anything in there,” you say, walking over and taking a seat beside the fire.
“Your depravity does not matter to me, Lucas,” she says, a slightly mocking smile on her face. “I do not care whether Veleda ultimately judges you wanting and casts you down into the Underworld. I only need you to complete your duty to the goddess.”
You stare at her for several seconds. She is not joking, not exactly, but you can also tell she does not mean what she is saying. She does care.
She hands you a steaming bowl of food and you tuck in, drinking from a water skin she passes to you.
“I dreamt of Lady Rachelle,” you say, and proceed to describe the dream to Theora.
Probably just your corrupted human desires and Morelle’s touch conjuring a fantasy. But perhaps she has taken notice of you.
“Not a comforting thought,” you say, finishing up the bowl of food.
“It was not meant to comfort you,” she says, wiping the bowl clean and causing it to disappear into th
e air. “Come, let us strike camp and be on our way. We should reach Bruno by nightfall.”
CONTINUE >
The Easily Defeated Hero’s Monster Girl Adventure
Book 4: The Vampiress
By Amanda Clover
@amandasmut
Art created for the cover by Delacroix_Legion
Preparations for a Journey
You stand in the crystal sanctum’s massive throne room of alabaster columns and golden chandeliers. The perpetual sunset light of this strange place paints pink and gold across the white marble floor. You stand beside the throne, uncertain of the ornate golden chair’s significance in this castle and therefore unwilling to sit in the chair.
Theora, the beautiful, statuesque, golden-maned angel, is not so hesitant. She folds her white-feathered wings against her back and settles onto the throne, adjusting the hem of her rather sheer gown and crossing her toned legs. She leans back in the extravagant seat as if she is lounging beside the hearth in a tavern.
“I wish I could go with you this time, master,” says Morelle, the succubus, as she rubs against you like a friendly cat. Her shapely bottom drags against your groin, her back arching and her silky black loincloth dangling between her buttocks. Morelle’s dangerous tail curls around your thigh and rubs against your cock. She looks different. The former farm girl seems to be growing into her demonic nature, her horns elongating and her wings darkening as her features have steadily grown more voluptuous. Her face is even more alluring.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” you say, thinking back to your recent journey through the countryside with the demoness. “To be honest, I wish I could take all of you with me.”
You learned about the threat of the vampiress after capturing Gretchen, the cow girl, and your apprehension about facing such a cruel and deadly foe has only grown since. Your sister is supposed to be visiting your family farm for a short break in her schooling. You should be there to welcome her home instead of off in the Nightlands having your blood sucked out by vampires.
Which is definitely going to happen. You know how this works.
“So take me with you, master,” says Morelle, rubbing her hand over your crotch.
“She cannot go with us,” says Theora.
“Mean!” Morelle pouts, crossing her arms over her ample breasts. “You just want master all to yourself!”
“Believe me, you little horned tart,” says Theora, her tone more dismissive than angry, “I would like nothing more than to send Lucas on his way alone, but he needs me to get to the destination.”
“Awwooo?” Oola, the slime girl, slides up the steps to the throne and curls her jiggling tendrils around you. “Why not take me? I am fun! I am good!”
“No, Oola,” you say, pushing away Oola’s gelatinous violet tendrils as they form into human hands. She copies Morelle’s pretty pouting face and slithers back from you, cooing with disappointment.
“Well, I’m not going to ask to go,” says Gretchen, the most recent addition to your companions. “I am too busy in my lab.”
The busty blonde cow girl pushes Oola gently out of the way and approaches you. She thinks of herself as an alchemist working primarily in milk, both female and male, and various other ingredients provided by the castle’s magic. Her swaying teats remind you of the fun you had in defeating her. Your cock, already stiff from Morelle and Ooola, begins to throb urgently in your trousers. The busty beauty holds out her hands, offering you a stoppered vial in each hand. One vial is blue and the other pinkish in color.
“What are these?” You ask, taking the vials from her.
“Milk draughts,” she says, a proud smile on her face. “The blue one will make you very strong and masculine and will make your cock powerful. No woman, not even a monster, will be able to resist you.”
“I would take that bet,” scoffs Theora with a roll of her eyes.
“Take them,” says Gretchen, stepping back. “Use them or save them, but I want you to defeat that vampire woman. I want you to come back.”
“Thank you, Gretchen,” you say, genuinely touched by her concern.
“Your boy milk is the purest I have found,” she says. “I need to milk much more out and that would not be possible if a vampire drinks all your blood.”
“Uh, right,” you say, stuffing the potions into the pouch you wear on your hip. “I’ll keep these handy.”
Your thoughts turn to the foe you will be facing. Though you have bested a few monster girls, including a soul-sucking succubus, none has ever been like a vampiress. Vampires are creatures of ongoing legend that strike fear into the heart of everyone.
You remember your father telling you a story of Vladislov the Decapitator when you were a young boy and how you stayed awake all night, every tap of a branch on your roof that night becoming the sound of a vampire alighting from the night sky.
“Master,” says a soft and feminine voice. You snap out of your fears and see that Hina, the sanctum’s omnipresent golem girl, is standing before you and bowing her head.
“Yes, Hina?”
“I want to wish you good luck on your journey, master,” says the automaton, earning another derisive snort from Theora. “I have prepared a bento box for you.”
“A what?”
She shuffles forward, head bowed, and holds out a pink box wrapped in ribbon. You take it from her and find it surprisingly heavy. A faint savory aroma wafts from the box.
“It is a meal for you to take,” she says. “With compartments for all of the items. My magic will keep some of the food warm and some of it cool for when you are hungry.”
“Uh, right, thank you,” you say. “Very thoughtful, Hina.”
She looks up at you with her oversized eyes, her irises pink suggesting she has chosen a pleasure body to give you the gift. Yes, her face is human-like and her lips appear soft and flexible rather than the polished porcelain of her arms and legs.
“Of course, master,” she says sweetly.
“And you’ll look after the farm again while I am gone?”
“I exist to serve you, master,” she says, stepping back and bowing once more.
“Don’t let all this go to your head,” warns Theora, standing from the throne. She raises her voice and addresses the monster girls. “It is time for us to leave. No more of this fawning over the hero with a thousand lives.”
“Where are you taking him?” Morelle demands.
“Veleda will deliver us to the borders of the Nightlands,” declares Theora. A cold silence falls over the room. The Nightlands are a cursed place, a haunted landscape where the sun never fully shines and the crops struggle to grow. Theora continues, “Even the goddesses magic will not allow us to travel directly to our destination, but Ulvenblad is not far from the border. We will reach the city and begin our search for the vampiress there. The goddess senses the presence of evil in this vicinity.”
“She doesn’t know where she is,” says Morelle, a look of contempt on her beautiful face.
“Mind your tongue, succubus,” warns Theora, taking a step towards her.
“I always mind my tongue, pious bitch,” says Morelle, balling her hands into fists and flicking her tail with annoyance.
You step between them and hold your hands up to placate them both. “I’m ready,” you say. “We can go now, Theora. Morelle, you look after the palace.”
She stands up straight and salutes you, her hand against the horns that curl from her forehead. You kiss her lips and feel the tingle of her demonic power. She steals a bite of your essence, pleasure rushing through you for a moment as faint violet light plays at her lips. You pull back before she can take too much.
“Gretchen,” you say. “Keep working on your potions.”
You embrace her and she crushes you tightly against her huge breasts, some of her milk spilling through her bodice and wetting your tunic.
“Awoooo?” Oola burbles plaintively. You turn to hug her and she splatters her voluptuous body against you and swallows u
p your arms in her jiggling translucence. Her sweet, silky lips smack against yours and she tries to probe your mouth with her gelatinous tongue.
“Alright, alright,” you laugh, pulling your arms from inside her with a lewd slurp. The moment you step back from Oola, several Hina golems mob around you, embracing you and whining for you to return. The show of concern for your departure only deepens your worry about your destination.
“That’s enough,” growls Theora and the Hina golems back away from you. The angel puts and arm around your shoulder and commands you, “Take us out of here.”
You hold up the pink gemstone that contains the power of the palace and declare, “SANCTUM EXITUS!”
There is a bright flash of light and you and Theora appear in the woods near Gretchen’s farmhouse, the Sword of Veleda clasped in your hands. Dawn spills pale gold through the trees and a mist clings to the ground in the nearby clearing. A chill wind stirs your tunic and hair.
“The goddess is ready,” says Theora. “Take my hand, Lucas.”
“Theora,” you say softly as you take her hand. “I will not shrink from this challenge, but I am afraid to face the vampiress.”
“That is wise,” she says, gripping your hand tightly in hers. “The undead thrive in the nightlands. Her power will be great and her evil is true. You should fear her, but you will in with the help of the goddess.”
The beautiful angel turns her face and silvery-blue eyes skyward and offers a prayer to the goddess.
“Mighty Veleda, mender with a warrior’s heart, knock us to your bow and draw back the string. Loose us into the heart of your enemies, for we are righteous and burn with your fire.”
A warm golden light envelops you and Theora, growing more intense until all you can see is that golden glow. You feel as if you are moving at an incredible speed, but you also feel calm and safe in the holy light of the goddess.
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