I started writing this a few years ago and kind of gave up since I'm not the greatest writer. It's the start of a lewd futa-centric fantasy world. Let me know what you guys think of the story!
Prologue.
There was always a certain beauty to the cold. Staring out at the icy blue tongue of the world, Ingrid Dahl reminisced of a time before it was doomed by the lust of man. A frigid breath hit her cheeks turning them ruby red, waking her from her daze. She was often found staring out into the distance, trying her best to not forget the memory of mankind. The landscape was barren and ravaged. Islands dotted the waves of ice, few and far between. But it wasn’t always this way.
Ingrid Dahl of Pyne-Break was on yet another expedition. She searched far and wide, sailing across hundreds of oceans. Travelling to every island discovered by man still yielded little answers and no solutions. This time felt different, she could feel the presence of hope perfuming her vessel, troops smiling and jesting on the deck, and calm ocean currents. As Ingrid entered the warm embrace of her captain's quarters she couldn't help but smile for the first time in months.
A quake was sent through the floor, they had landed. Ingrid's knights armored up in ill-fitted steel too large for their frames and loaded up into the dinghies. Reaching shore they unloaded, trudging toward the peak of the sole mountain. The higher they trekked, the colder it got. Eventually reaching a point where they had to rest. Starting fire was impossible, the barren summit contained no life. Their previous morale had diminished, resorting to eating frozen meat and melting snow with saliva to drink.
Waking up in the morning, she saw nurses counting casualties: three… Six… Eight… Twelve… Ingrid never got used to it, the sickness it brought to her stomach, the silence it carried. Death was always certain on expeditions, but it always came as a shock. As the chainmail stuck to their undergarments, and tears froze to their skin, they were disheartened. But they continued. Ingrid spotted a ridge, knowing they were nearing the peak. Individually, they threw themselves over the jagged rocks, finding themselves atop a precipice.
The snow mysteriously began to settle, and the air warmed around them. Trees begin to appear in their vision dripping with melting frost. Ingrid encroached forward and came upon a crumbling stone structure engraved with runic symbols. In the center rested a bygone witch. She sat slightly suspended in the air, surrounded by visible whispers. She knew why Ingrid had come and immediately had a proposal:
“If thine wish is to save thy people, I offer an awfully potent accord.”
“I beg to hear more, my empire is crumbling, I wish my people suffer no longer. Anything that I must sacrifice, I am willing.”
“There must be a great sacrifice, thine womb will seal, doing away thy ability to birth heirs. With this bargain, you will reap the fertility of man, and one of thine seedlings will usher blasphemy to thine dominion”
Ingrid thought for a long moment, the wind stiffening around her. Crows landed on tree branches listening attentively.
“I accept thy decree, must the sun shine again on my people once again.”
“I pray for your sake that you won't live long enough to regret this. An artifact lies upon this scape, one that will liberate your people. Named kønslem, it holds the power to grant fertility; lying deep below the surface of these grounds.”
The witch vanished in a moment's notice, leaving no trace. Ingrid wasn’t fond of dealing with bedlams, but she did what had to be done. A tensing sensation overwhelmed her groin. Ignoring it was wearying, but she appeared composed and unbothered, determined to continue.
The ground beneath the ruins collapsed revealing an entrance to a cave. As Ingrid led her troops down into the maw she could feel a presence she hadn’t felt since the rapture. Venturing deeper, the ground became slick, and the path became more and more obscured by jutting stalactites and fang-like formations. When it seemed impossible to continue, the stones abated, leading to a chamber. They cautiously entered. puddles of opaque liquid lined the floor, vines visible in the reflection. A beaming light shone upon an ornate podium, lying atop was the artifact of kønslem. It was in the shape of a phallus, but it didn’t resemble any ordinary man’s member. It was very large, veins bulging trying to escape, and the tip was flat and blunt. The testicles laid below it as swollen orbs. Constantly streaming cloudy liquid spurted from the tip, giving a musky smell. Small pieces and chunks were missing, and cracks ran down the length. The troops fell silent, Ingrid stepped up to the podium. She could feel a magnetization to the ancient stone, whispers began to cloud her thoughts, “touch it,” “just one feel is all it takes.” Her hand reached out, everything had disappeared around her. A drop of sweat rolled down her forehead, and her hand and the artifact finally met after what felt like ages.
Touching the stone immediately sent her into an oblivion. Eyes rolling back, limbs limp, she fell to her knees unconscious. Her cavalry heaved her over their shoulders scurrying her out of the chamber. They plummeted down the peak to the ship while nurses tended to her, attempting to wake her, but to no avail. The door to the captain's quarters busted open, and Ingrid was thrown onto her bed.
Hours passed until eventually she awoke. Ingrid opened her eyes seemingly oblivious to events that had occurred. “Have we arrived?” the queen said with a tremble in her throat. “You touched an artifact, and fell into a deep slumber. We thought you would never wake up!” Ingrid’s eyes widened, she had remembered what happened. As the feeling slowly returned to her body, she felt her gown fit tighter around her hips and breasts. She grabbed her chest and felt a firm new weight. She noticed her hips sitting higher up on her mattress due to the new heaviness in her bottom. Her thigh gap seemed to be filled by curves upon curves. But most notable of them all however; she felt a new appendage sitting between her legs. The warmth was alien to her, it left a satisfying pulsing sensation that went through her whole body. She lifted her skirt trembling in anticipation and fear, she saw it: a massive length, thicker than her forearm, long as her midriff. It pulsed with vigor and sensitivity, and subtly dripped on her bed. A gasp was let out by the nurses as they gazed in shock awe. Nobody knew how to react except the queen, she grinned, she knew this was the solution to save the world.
-The death of mankind will bring peace to this world
Chapter One:
Wulgī Alandi: born of elven descent, one of the many children of queen Ingrid. She has long wavy brunette hair that cascaded down her short stature. Her perfectly asymmetrical face only makes her more beautiful. Two large, sharp almond eyes clouded by a subtle blue mist. Her long thin eyelashes that naturally curved upwards adorn and crown her optics. Ebony eyebrows perfectly lined her face, thin and delicately arched. Ghostly pale skin latched onto her delicate frame, wrapped tight leaving no room for wrinkles or folds. Her breasts were subtle, and her bottom was a hill, not a mountain.
Never let looks deceive, despite her soft sweet appearance, her mind is sharp and her hands are quick. The citizens of Pyne-Break tend to keep a distance from her. She is acquainted with very few, preferring to keep to herself while she plots and plans. She lives on the outskirts of the city where the wildlife roams; though she can call a cell her second home.
Resenting her mother is one thing that has never changed. Wulgī always viewed queen Ingrid as selfish, keeping all that power to herself, and having so many children she can’t remember half their names. Impregnating only the finest women of the village, leaving the ill-favored bloodlines doomed. Wulgī believed that the artifact of kønslem (transported to the city years ago) should be shared instead of locked up in the deepest dungeon. Wulgī had a plan however: steal the artifact and overthrow the queen. This scheme was nearly impossible, but Wulgī wasn’t going to sit around and wait any longer. Leaving at midnight would be her best chance, most of the guards would be drowsy and prone to mistakes by then. She put on her midnight black robes, shoved an insignificant blade into a hilt, and equipped her wolf’s head pelt. The pelt was of her beloved pet lýk, who passed faster than anticipated. She wore his head atop hers to bring him along on her cardinal journeys. As the sun began to disappear behind the peaks, she headed towards the only forgotten entrance to the catacombs. Wulgī maneuvered around silently, every footstep lighter than a feather. Years of standing on her tiptoes paid off. As she approached the seemingly inconspicuous stone wall, she brushed vines aside and shoved her petite figure through a compact tunnel. The further she crawled the harder it was to continue. The sound of her struggling breath reminded her that it wasn’t too late to turn back. As the tunnel continued, her movement became more and more unyielding, as her muscles became useless. Sweat began to pool in her eyes, stinging and burning her jems. Even Breathing began to hurt. Eventually, she reached a point in which even her slight body couldn't continue. Making the decision to turn back was a burden on her mind, giving up wasn’t in her interest. As she crawled out of the gaping hole in the wall, she knew what she had to do.
Another entrance was located five kilometers north; yet, it was well known and heavily guarded. Wulgī, running out of options, began her trek, sneaking through the town. She scouted out a route she would take, one that would avoid confrontation. The opportunity arose and she seized it with agility and poise. Approaching the entrance, she lurked. As the moment came, she hesitated only for a second, dashing quickly, she made it to a door. Opening it she saw two guardians standing unaware. Wulgī almost thought she could just walk right in, but as soon as that thought left her mind it seemingly alerted the guards. They ran towards her as she turned around to make an escape. But it was too late, the other guards from outside surrounded her leaving her with one option: capture.
Wulgī knew she wasn't going to get the usual punishment for her transgression: one night in a damp stone cell and an unheeded warning. Any attempts to take the artifact of kønslem was punished profusely. As the brawny guards detained her, that painful realization entered her brain. Death or severe torture was sure to be her damnation. They dragged her to a familiar holding cell where she would spend the night. Sleep was the last thing Wulgī was doing. She scrambled to find any way to escape, to no avail.
Dreading the sunrise wasn't something Wulgī was known for. Often waking early just to catch the beams of light break the darkness; nonetheless, unfortunate circumstances had her dread every pigment of pink and orange. She tried to ignore her impending fate, but distracting herself in a cell was nearly impossible. Just as a positive memory of her beloved lýk crossed her, a jingle of keys was heard from down the hall. All the muscles in her body tensed as she prepared to be dragged off.
“The queen has requested to see you in the Pandemonium Hall.”
A surprised expression entered Wulgī’s face. She expected death, but Pandemonium Hall was the usual location for trial. Wulgī was forcefully chained and dragged through town, down the street, to the grand doors of the hall. The doors were magnificently overdramatic, nearly being fifty meters tall. As multiple troops struggled to open the gate, Wulgī saw hundreds of faces through the slight crack, they were lining the outer stands, sitting and waiting. As the doors finally opened she met eyes with queen Ingrid. They pulled on her bindings and she flew forward as she struggled to maintain posture. As she approached the altar in the center of the large theater she looked up towards Ingrid's throne. Ingrid stepped down from her platform and stood in front of Wulgī. Her mothers appearance had changed dramatically since she last saw her ages ago. The neckline of her dress was extremely low and taut, her breast almost spilling out, the measly cloth would surely give in. Her areolas were peeking out barely but noticeably. The bodice crammed her upper half into a satisfying hourglass figure, embroidered with blue floral textures that complimented the subtle beige tone of the rest of her attire. The dress ended at her hips leaving a loincloth hanging to the floor. A shadow was visible behind the semi-transparent fabric of the cloth, it was her member. Longer and thicker than before, and nearly reaching her feet. Two large orbs accompanied, practically the size of grapefruits hanging low halfway down the shaft. Secretion continuously slicked the floor. Her behind was visible from the front, her dress doing nothing to hide her bubbly cheeks. Each step Ingrid took; her meat slapped against her impossibly curvaceous thighs, her testicles sloshed with potent seed yearning to be unleashed, and her breast jiggled loosening each step. Wulgī’s stomach churned in disgust, her mother was even more exaggerated and effeminate. *She’s so… bodacious. What happened to her moderation?*
“Mine own blood, attempting to steal my artifact. I always knew you were trouble. Though, I'm willing to offer you a second chance. Seeing your face has reminded me of your birth mother. She was the finest maiden in the empire, and a joy to have a go at. Shame I went too rough on her. I offer thy exile rather than death”
The audience broke silence with a simultaneous gasp. Ingrid stepped back onto the podium squeezing onto her regal silver throne. As Wulgī was being dragged out of the hall, her heart filled with relief, but her mind filled with memories. The queen was going to pay for what she did.