Dungeons and Dragons
Swords out, holes open, role initiative!
Chapter three: Into the wood
For five days, man and dwarf rested in the hall of the dwarfs. In that time, Markus explained his vision and quest to Kirth, Bolof, and the dwarf king. The dwarfs were skeptical, but Kirth was eager for more adventure, so whether he believed the prophesy was true or not was immaterial. And ever since Markus healed his wound with a kiss, he had felt growing fondness for the young priest. So it was that on the fifth day after Markus's rescue the two headed out of the dwarf citadel. Kirth rode upon his great black stallion Roac, while Markus walked on foot, for the dwarfs, not being great horse riders themselves, had no steed to replace the one lost to the orcs. As they were leaving, Bolof caught up with them. "You weren't going to leave without me, were you?"
"I didn't think you believed my vision," replied Markus.
"I didn't," said Bolof with feigned gruffness, "but Kirth has become quite dear to my father, who would not want any harm to befall him. Therefore he has sent me as his guardian." The dwarf grabbed Krith's ass and planted his lips on the barbarian's leather pouch, kissing and fondling the soft dick inside. "That was a farewell from my father. May we all return safely!" Kirth laughed and returned the kiss, as the three of them set out into the cool morning.
After keeping a steady pace for a week, the three of them saw a vast sea of green spreading across the horizon. They had come to the Black Wood. Few who entered it ever returned, for it was filled with man-eating plants. Still, this was the only road that did not go out of their way, and neither Kirth nor Bolof was willing to shy from the challenge. Little light could navigate its way to the floor of the wood. Above their heads, the spreading branches intertwined with vines to create a nearly impenetrable matrix. Great brown and black birds hopped from branch to branch, calling in hoarse screams. Still, the little party moved on with little regard for the change in scenery.
Three days into the wood, the party was camped for the night. The fire had gone out hours ago, leaving nothing to fend off the complete blackness of the wood. The three men dozed. Markus half roused from unconsciousness. In a sleepy haze, he could feel something sliding under the waist of his under garments. It wiggled around his furry bottom, gently probing his ass hole, then moving between his legs and cupping his balls. He thought it must be Kirth lying beside him, so he just groaned and pushed his ass toward the resting muscle man, giving the barbarian whatever pleasure he desired. But a few minutes later, Markus felt something grab his wrists and ankles and start to drag him along the ground. He opened his eyes. Darkness only, but he could sense another presence. Markus drew the divine power within him, chanting his prayer for light. The tent lit up in a flash of cool white light, and he could see a dozen green tendrils had entered their tent.
Each was thicker than a man's arm at the base, but they tapered to bulbous tips, perhaps an inch or two in diameter, the exact shape of the head of a penis. One of these was worming around Markus's crotch, while another wrapped around both his ankles and a third tied his wrists. The remaining tendrils glided silently over his companions and started to descend.
"What in the name of Mighty Kord?!" shouted Markus, awakening the dwarf and the barbarian. He struggled in his bonds, and with a mighty heave of his back muscles, he pulled his arms apart, rending the tendril to shreds. Within moments the Kirth and Bolof were reaching for their weapons. There was little room to maneuver within the little tent, and they could not swing their blades against the beast of a plant without hitting each other. Markus sat up, grabbing the tendrils that held his legs, as they dragged him from the tent. Kirth and Bolof soon followed, pressing past the tendrils to get out of the tent.
In the gloom outside, the three heroes could make out the writhing mass of dozens of tendrils, but in the weak light from the tent, their bases disappeared into the night. Even the dwarf, with his eyes used to the dim mines of his race, could not see from where the tendrils grew. The air was thick with pollen and perfume, a strange odor like semen, sweat, and ripe ass holes. The scent had an intoxicating magic, and the three of them felt their loins burn and blood rush to their penises.
Still, the excitement of battle was strong. With a great roar, Kirth lifted his great sword over his head, displaying his might chest and arms, and brought it down on the tendrils holding Markus's legs. Markus quickly scrambled to his feet, and Bolof, who had thought to take the priest's war hammer out of the tent, tossed it to him. The three of them circled themselves and faced the onslaught, hacking and slashing with sword and axe and pounding with hammer. Bits of plant flew everywhere, and a green slime oozed from the plant's wounds. Yet the slime only increased the magic perfume, and they found it harder and harder to concentrate as their cocks grew more erect and hungry.
In the half light, it was difficult to see all the tendrils, which struck out of the darkness like vipers. A thick tendril knocked Bolof off his feet. Kirth turned to hack the tendril off, but another vine caught his wrist so he swung off balance and missed. The tendril lifted Bolof off the ground by one foot, while another grabbed the wrist that held his axe. While the barbarian recovered his footing, two more tendrils latched on to his sword arm. He flexed his biceps, thick arteries bulging under his bronze skin. The vines couldn't withstand the barbarian's rock-like muscles. One snapped, then another, but before the third went, two more tendrils had wrapped themselves around his ankles and lifted him into the air. Alone, Markus could not fend off the attack, and soon the vines had wrestled the hammer away and started to lift the struggling human.
The tendrils roamed over the naked flesh of their prey. They had taken off most of their gear to sleep, and now they hung in the air, nearly naked, Markus wearing only his under garments, Kirth only his leather pouch, and Bolof only his cup. Two tendrils moved up and down Markus's furry chest. They then wrapped around his waistband and with a tug ripped his underwear in half. His engorged cock stuck nearly straight up his hairy belly. The tendrils spread his legs apart; one went sliding up his ass crack, while another encircled his cock shaft and started to jack him off. Meanwhile, the tendrils had pulled down Kirth's pouch, revealing his own massive erection, and were busy exploring his massive smooth muscles. The vines held the barbarian's arms over his head, opening his deep arm pits for more vines to caress. Two vines had each wrapped themselves around his big nipples and were squeezing them and kneading his big pecs. They pulled his legs toward his head, so that the huge man was bent nearly double and his meaty ass cheeks were spread wide open. "Argh!" Kirth groaned as a vine pushed its way into his fuck chute. He struggled to pull his ass off the vine, but he couldn't get any leverage suspended in air. The vine buggered the barbarian's hole expertly, twisting and turning and massaging his prostate. Kirth grunted and heaved with pleasure and lust. "Oh, fuck, yes, YES! More!!" A tendril moved to Kirth's face, so close that for the first time Kirth could see that the head ended in an opening just like a piss slit that oozed the same green slime. He knew he should resist, but the fucking was incredibly good and the magic perfume was making him crazy for more. The barbarian opened his mouth wide and let the vine slide deep into this throat. Completely giving in, he sucked eagerly and lapped up every drop of the sweet green goo.
Focused now only on fucking, Kirth was barely aware of his muffled cries of ecstasy. He was completely oblivious to the shouts coming from Bolof nearby. The dwarf had given in to his lust, and since he no longer threatened to escape, the vine had set him on the ground again. He was leaning back on his hands, crouched on the ground. Two tendrils had already pushed his chain thong aside and made their way into the dwarf's hungry fuck hole. He was bobbing up and down on the two green poles with all his energy, shouting "Oh, yes! Fuck me, Fuck my hole so hard! Harder, I say!!"
Tendrils entwined with his long beard and circled his barrel chest and stout waist. They undid the chain holding his cup on. A new kind of vine appeared. At its end, instead of a green bulb, was a more slender pink bud.
Its petals parted slightly at the tips. It nuzzled the dwarf's fat dick before placing its opening on the swollen head of the Bolof's penis, and swallowing the whole shaft. The flower squeezed and sucked the dwarf's cock. "Yeah, suck my big cock!" he shouted. The vines pushed Bolof forward onto his hands and knees. The two tendrils in his ass spread themselves, prying the dwarf hole open. "Argh!! My ass! My fucking shitter!" A third tendril glided up and worked its way between the two, so now the dwarf's tortured hole was working three tendrils at once. They moved in and out like pistons out of synch, stretching and massaging the dwarf's bowels like never before. Bolof pushed his ass back, wanting it all. "Fuck fuck FUCK!
Yes, ream my hole good. Mine it, yeah, mine my ass! Mine it hard and deep! Oh fuck-" His groans were cut short as another vine plunged into his mouth, squirting its intoxicating juices.
Markus was still trying to fight. A thick vine was working his ass hole, while a flower sucked his cock. Vines spanked his rump and caressed up and down his big body. The pleasure was amazing, but the priest fought back. Struggling to get his hands free, his hairy chest heaved, arms flexed, with muscles bulging to the breaking point, but still the vines held firm. Finally, he could take no more, and his whole body shuddered has he spilled his semen inside the flower. He grunted and screamed as pleasure rocked his body. But still the plant continued, if anything with even more ferocity. The vines forced his legs further apart, as another vine entered his aching butt. The sucking on his cock became even more intense, as another vine forced its way into his mouth. Soon he was cumming again. In the darkness he could hear his companions having orgasm after orgasm as they were all fucked and sucked without mercy.
Markus became aware they were being pulled into the wood and away from their tent. He was dizzy and weak from the fucking, and also he suspected the green slime, but in the darkness he could make out the body of the plant. It stood over twenty feet high. Several rings of tendrils grew from the base, and atop the whorls sat a huge flesh colored flower. Markus tried to struggle, but he was too weak, as were his companions. One by one, they were pulled into the great flower that closed with a squelch.
Just as Markus was starting to lose consciousness, the darkness was ripped apart. The glow of a torch burned his eyes, and he could see steel flashing in the light. A hand pulled him through the broken wall of the flower, and he rolled onto the ground a slimy mess. He looked up to see Kirth and Bolof also on the ground and the huge plant on fire and shaking with pain and rage. A figure with a torch in one hand and a scimitar in the other was cleaving through tendrils and setting them alight. In a few moments, the plant was dead.
It was several minutes before any of them could muster the strength to stand. The magical perfume and the plant's toxic cum had sapped their energy. Markus squinted in the darkness, and his eyes finally focused on their savior. He was an elf man, clad in studded leather. His face was smooth but stern and square jawed, and like all of his race, he looked neither young nor old. He had bright green eyes and long hair the color of cream. The elf reached down and hauled Markus to his feet. "You must come with me. There are more rapevines about; you are in grave danger." Markus stumbled naked and dripping to his feet. Bolof was on his hands and knees, shaking the slime out of his beard. Kirth stumbled to his feet, but lost his balance and fell toward Markus, who caught the beefy barbarian. Markus held the large man, one hand on the top of his buttocks, the other around his massive shoulders, and he kissed him once again. The divine power in Markus's gut began to swell. The power traveled up and into the barbarian who regained his strength, stood firmly on his two feet, grabbed the priest's ass cheeks, and kissed him back. The force of the barbarian's kiss took Markus's breath away, as the barbarian king sucked and kneaded the priest's bearded lips.
"We must go!" shouted the elf, shattering the two men's kiss. The three of them were hardly in any condition to argue, so they followed the elf back to their camp, where they quickly collected their things.
Bolof, who was always suspicious of elves, was the first to ask, "Who are you, and where are you taking us?"
The elf, who was already heading into the wood, turned just long enough to say, "I'm taking you to the druid, Tallin. Without his help, you will not survive the wood."
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