The first impression the room left was that it was wide and hot. He felt it right to his lungs, making breathing more difficult until he would adjust. It was made of granite of some sort; very smooth and uniform, almost as if it had been carved out of a single, gigantic block. That… shouldn’t be possible. Given the location, the individual tiles were more likely to have been fused together to give the appearance of uniformity.
There was a depression in the middle, a few feet deep, like a pool of some sort. From the shimmer on top of it, there was a coating of fluid inside, barely an inch. If he squinted and focused, he could make the whiteness of vapour over it. He approached in order to better examine it. It smelled… not like water. He was weirded out, then intrigued, then captivated. He didn’t know what that thing was, but it felt weirdly good being near it. It almost made him forget the temperature of the room.
He stepped in the depression and sat. The fluid was cool to the touch for only the first moment. Then, it almost clung onto his skin and spread all his pores wide, seeping through his black fur as though it was nothing. He realised it wasn’t the room that was warm, but the fluid. He sat back, resting against the wall, though it was more slope than wall. Where there would normally be sharp angles at the beginning and end of the decline, there were smooth curves instead, sanded out with mathematical precision. It was very pleasurable to sit against, though not exactly made for someone of his stature.
After all, he was a war horse, bred to swing sledgehammers and break sieges; his intended accommodations were a stable at best.
This wasn’t so bad. He could get used to it.
There were others in there with him, he realised. They hadn’t been in there with him from the start, were they? No, they couldn’t have been; he would have noticed. They must have got in while he was spacing out and relaxing. They were on the other side of the pool, bath, whatever it was; some fifty feet across. It was round, but not perfectly circular, ever so slightly squished in one axis. He realised something similar held true for the floor: it was a little deeper on its centre by a minuscule amount. In fact, even outside the hole, the floor was curved. The were no straight lines or sharp angles anywhere, save for the entrances and the windows. An indulgent design if ever there was one.
Still, a group of elves was on the other side—he could tell from their massive, pointed ears, over twice the size of a human’s—and they were whispering among themselves, and pointing and looking at him. Like him, they weren’t wearing very much: he only had a cloth over his groin for some vague semblance of modesty, but theirs were more far more intricate, adorned with bangles and chains, multiple layers of fabrics, and varying opacity; class differences imprinted onto cloth. They were at least curious about him, if not impressed.
He couldn’t deny he was at least somewhat partial to the treatment. There was a certain allure to the elves: their soft skin, their lithe forms, or their cuteness. From their proportions, they looked like children to him, though he knew that meant very little to an elf, and they could as well have their ages in the millennia. Even so, a bunch of cute girls were eating him with their eyes, and that had to count for something, even if would be unacceptable to reciprocate. They were so little, he could probably pick them up with one—
There was a tinkling sound from behind him, coupled with footsteps. Another elf, he discovered, but entering from the same direction as he’d had earlier. While he was spacing out with the nymphettes ahead of him, he’d lost sense of what was going on behind him. Her attire was the most impressive yet, her “clothing” little more than a series of golden bangles and chains, swinging around as she walked, and embracing her childish body from every direction. She was blonde, so much that under the midday sun it almost looked white, and very skinny. Some might mistake her for a commoner in how her ribs and pelvic bones protruded from her tight body, but they would be insane. Her impossible combination of health and delicacy was absolutely regal, even more so than her jewellery.
Wordless, she entered the bath right next to him, left foot first. It was so long and thin—she was all legs. Her little toes produced the slightest, cutest sound when she dipped them into the fluid, with all the care and lightness of a cat. His eyes travelled up her limb, from toes to calf to thigh to waist, and finally her forbidden core on her groin, covered by golden plate that guarded its chastity, a popular practice in their upper class, signalling her purity prior to being bedded. It was held in place by a charm, but still, there was a decorative, hair-thin golden chain going around her waist, connected at its left and right sides. At its centre, a large gemstone of her family line, surely worth more by itself than everything he’d ever own combined.
She noticed his staring and shifted to the left in response, her foot now on his thigh, sitting on his shoulder. Her hair fell and brushed on his ear; it was so soft compared to his fur, he almost couldn’t believe it could grow on a person. Up close to her, he could appreciate how much smaller she was: at twice her width and height, his thumbs alone were as wide as her lanky legs; his arms more massive than her abdomen.
“You look, but you don’t touch. What are you afraid of?” she asked.
Execution, he thought. “I can’t. You’re…”
“An elf? Small? Young?” she offered. Placing her foot over the cloth on his groin, she felt his member through it. He wasn’t proud of it, but he reacted with pleasure. “Those are all the things you love.” She lowered another leg and then got off his shoulder so that she could sit on his lap, making sure she rubbed herself against him all the way down. “How many times, I wonder, have you thought about it. Where no one can judge.”
Her skinship had emboldened the rest of the elves to begin their own approach. He gulped. He could see where this was going and wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with it. “I should go,” he said and tried to get up, but was interrupted when she put a hand on his shoulder and shoved. Light and girlish at first, but the force rose and rose and rose, until it was plain as day that it was well beyond the capacity of her muscles, enough to pose a serious threat.
They were older, and with age came power, and it was enough that they could rip his arms straight off.
“Thought about little elves in skimpy outfits. Little elves with flat chests, barely pubescent, if even that. Little elves who’d saved themselves for hundreds, thousands of years, waiting to give their treasures to someone larger… thicker… equine.”
One of the girls had grabbed his hand and was sucking on his finger. Ah, her little tongue! It was so hot! The tongue of a tiny girl! This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be real, but the sensation on his digit couldn’t be his imagination. Not to be outdone, the blonde who’d been speaking to him was licking his neck and clavicle with raw desire, like the nectar of the gods had been spilled on him. Taking this as a sign, more of them joined in, holding onto any part of him they could find and licking, touching, feeling, their little minds lost in lust over him.
“Mister, aren’t you sexually attracted to children?”
“What good stallion isn’t?”
“Ah…! The taste of a horse…! The taste of a paedophile!”
The elves spoke as they felt him up; there were so many of them that he couldn’t hope to tell which was which and where each comment was coming from. They pulled on his limbs from every direction and they licked, caressed, and sucked everything they could find. He didn’t try to escape, as every time he showed the slightest resistance, he was promptly reminded of how much force their little bodies could exert.
And how much pleasure. Oh, gods, the pleasure. Their little tongues and mouths, the touch of prepubescent girls on every part of his body. It was like he was bathing in their saliva, even as the fluid underneath penetrated his brain through his nostrils. It was an aphrodisiac—it had to be—and at this point he was hardly opposed to its effects.
There were so many of them. He recalled that there had been several girls, but this was getting ridiculous. Just as one had sneaked upon him previously, more must have been pouring in from the entrances; there had to be more than a dozen of them on him. These little girls ought to be practising, or singing, or whatever it was that elves liked to do, and instead they were worshipping a big, black stallion.
The bejewelled blonde on his neck had noticed his enjoyment and shifted her attention to his crotch. She pressed against the cloth covering him, grabbed it, and threw it as far as she could, to the other end of the room. His flared, flat-tipped cock was the size of an arm—his arm, that is—and still not in full mast. The girls were audibly impressed; oohs and ahhs echoing around him. Still on his lap, the blonde raised her foot to his member, pressing her toes and sole on its base. Her knee was almost level with her face; she was quite the contortionist.
She caressed his neck and cheek with a hand on one end, and from the other she licked and smelled, until her mouth was near his ear. “You tried to leave, but you’re very honest here.” She stepped harder on his cock to add impact to her words. “You like that, don’t you? You like being stepped on by little children. You like driving them crazy. My foot is the highest privilege you’ll ever earn.”
He didn’t reply, but his hard and fast breathing gave his feelings away. She got off him and out of the bath, grabbing his hands and raising them over his head. She locked them and pressed them against the floor with her weight, which admittedly wasn’t much, but he knew that she could break them if he dared try anything. She was looking down on him, right in his eyes, though she was inverted. They were so large and golden, such a great match for her skin, the most spotless porcelain…
The other elves took this opportunity to shift his position, raising his legs and opening them wide, moving his hips so that they had better access to the part of him they most desired. Three went right for his testicles, each about the size of their heads, smelling, and licking, even kneading them with their little hands. Most were on his length, itself gradually inflating, so that more and more of them could focus their attention to it. Alas, there were too many of them and only one of him, so whoever was left had to make do with his limbs, his armpits, anything that was relatively unoccupied.
She lowered her head to kiss him. Their features were so mismatched—a face and a snout, a large horse and a child—that it was hardly reminiscent of romance, but still, their tongues connected. Her hair fell around him, blocking peripheral vision, ticking his face. As he drank her saliva, it was like the purest fluid was coursing through him, removing every hint of corruption from his body through his digestive tract. Every hint of corruption except for his mad lust for her young, immature body.
Among them, some looked a little younger, some a little older, but the variation wasn’t very large, nor did it make him look any less of a paedophile, as none would’ve passed as older than an 11 year old child. He was the worst, truly the worst, but the loss of self-esteem was more than outweighed by the gain in satisfaction. Today he’d learned his true self: not a warrior, not a stallion, but a rapist of children.
“How do I feel?” she asked, breaking the kiss. “Tell me truly.”
“Y-you taste wonderful.”
The girls that had been concerning themselves with his armpits or his chest had licked up to his face as well, and they chimed in. “Sir warrior, we are very happy that you like us,” said a black-haired one, her voice more gentle and refined than the blonde’s. Notably, her hair was longer than she was, which he found strangely attractive. She leaned in on him, pressing on his lips with her hands so that he would open it wide, then she kissed him. His mouth was large enough, and her skull small enough, that he could fit much of her face inside it if he tried; not to the point of swallowing her whole, but too close for comfort nonetheless. With her little tongue, she traced his large one, leaving her mark in his mouth as the previous one had.
“You taste wonderful, too.”
“How fortuitous, for a paedophile to be able to compare the kisses of children.”
“Dear Stallion, I would also like…,” the third girl said, her skin a beautiful shade of brown, and topped by long, green hair. She spoke very low, barely audible, and was less assured of her motions. He turned his attention to her and let he do as she wished. She didn’t know where to start exactly; she began by pecking his lips, but took a while to continue. He made it easier for her by opening his mouth and jutting his tongue out a little, so that she, too, could kiss him. The three went on like that for some time, one elf kissing him, the others licking his face, his forehead, his neck, whatever they could find.
By that point, he’d grown fully erect: a grand two feet of horse meat in length, and just under in girth. His size was comical compared to the elves’ tiny bodies, his cock half a child elf’s full height, and only a little bit narrower than her hips… Their white faces and bright red tongues were the apex of eroticism against his spotted, black-and-brown flesh, his meat distorted by massive, pulsating veins. They couldn’t hope to get their hands around that monster, but they touched it nonetheless, particularly enamoured with his tip, his flare, and the precome pouring out. One of the elves on his testicles had even diverted her attention to his anus, rimming him.
A little girl… A preteen-looking girl… She was licking his arsehole…!
The blonde let his arms free and turned herself around, joining the other two close to him. He lowered his arms, as they had grown a little stiff, but freedom was short-lived, as she held onto his arm and guided it to the place between her thighs.
“Here. Do you feel that? You know what it is?” she asked.
A huge gemstone on gold, and around it, pale skin that somehow was softer despite the jeweller’s best efforts. His fingers impulsively went for her flesh around it, her inner thighs, the spots just outside her pubic area, which was completely covered by charms and metal. He tried going under it, as it wasn’t supported by anything, but he was repelled by an ethereal force, like the strongest magnet, frictionless and immutable.
She whispered right into his ear, so close that he could feel her lips on his hair. “I am a virgin.”
Not to be outdone, the black-haired elf did the same with his other hand, guiding it to her crotch plate. A different gemstone, a different metal, and a bit smaller, so that the very outer parts of her labia majora could be felt. He was so close! So close, but he was denied, he could feel it, he could feel her pussy right there, but he—
“Me too, Sir,” she said. “Though many have desired, no man has ever felt me. I’ve been chaste for two thousand, eight hundred and two years.” She spoke her age with extra care, words punctuated and clear, so that he would not mistake her age, nor the degree of her purity.
The blonde pressed her palm hard against her plate. “Do you want this? A perfect, sacred hole? A hole thousands have dreamed of, but none could have. Secured. Untouched. Intact.”
And from the other side, “I’m am very small, and maximally tight. I’ve never known a man, never touched myself, practised or stretched. You would be my first. I want you to have my hymen.”
“The hymen of a child,” said the blonde.
“And if it won’t fit, m-m-make it fit…!” the brown elf spoke.
“Deflower me.” “Deflower me.” “Deflower me.” One by one, all of the elves spoke up, commanding him to do what they wanted him to do. His mind was in a haze, and he couldn’t tell up from down. Somehow, the gems and metals on his fingers were more arousing with the treasures that they hid than any sexual experience he’d had before. As a warrior-stallion, he hadn’t had the most attractive partners: all well-used mares, experienced enough to take him, out in the wild and in questionable states of cleanliness, and always pleasuring more than one male. By comparison, the aeon-spanning chastity of the elves was a divine blessing; he felt like he was touching the essence of a god. Like this, with the hands of children on his cock, and with his hands on the devices that barred him entry, he could be satisfied for all of eternity.
But why should he? They were inviting him to do more. He wanted to do more. The little sluts had seen how small they were before him, and still they were begging to be fucked. Leaving a girl unsatisfied; that wasn’t the proper thing to do.
He summoned all the courage he could manage and forced himself up—or they allowed him to; the details didn’t matter. He singled out the blonde elf, grabbed her by her shoulders and lay her down at the edge of the bath; the few extra feet would be a great aid, given their height difference. She yelped, but didn’t resist. He leaned in on her and licked her neck for a change, though at the size of his tongue, it was closer to licking her whole face. He ran the tips of his fingers down her back, her sides, feeling the small indentations and depressions of her skeleton, so thin and small he felt like he could squeeze her into a bloody mess if he tried.
Her skin was impossible. Soft as velvet, and absolutely spotless: not a mole, scar, or freckle to be found. It was tight, though still flexible, just as a newborn’s would be. It was fair to say he thought such features were confined to the realms of painters and sculptors, of visages of deities and heroes expertly crafted to inspire iconolatry. Not anymore. She was before him, her corporeality beyond doubt. Her perfect taste, her chaste smell, the juvenile flatness of her chest, the little sounds of her jewellery as she moved about.
She raised her knees and pushed him back softly, more suggestion than command. She lowered her fingers to her groin, to the plate that locked her cunt, and with a small spark of magic, she picked it open. No longer held in place by some invisible force, it fell victim to gravity as a normal object would. She held the decorative chain around her waist connected to it, and pulled down to remove it as if she were taking off panties. Finally balancing at the very edge of her foot, it slid down the decline into the bath as she spread her legs wide to present him with her virginal treasure.
Puffy, hairless like a child’s, it glistened with arousal. Even as excited as he was, he had to take a moment to appreciate it in its unparalleled beauty; the grotesque, gaping caverns of the mares he’d been used to looked nothing alike. So immaculate was its shape that the mere notion of using it for its intended purpose seemed a waste, a sin of the highest order, yet one whose darkness grew in appeal in the depths of his depraved heart.
The girls behind him got closer, petting him, encouraging him. She lowered her index fingers to her lips and spread them, exposing her vaginal entrance and the mark of her purity.
“Is it the first time you’ve seen it? The pussy of a virgin.” He was so stupefied he couldn’t quite hear her words, though some part of him knew she had said something very arousing. He knelt before her and brought his mouth to her cunt, slurping on her like he’d been lost in the desert for days and only now had found some water. That innocent hole, that untainted, vestal hole, it hadn’t been touched for centuries—for millennia! He was the first to taste it. The first. How many had craved to know what the hymen of an elven kid tasted like? They would give up their lives, their kingdoms, everything they could afford for the opportunity to know. He knew. He knew.
The elves’ hands were on his cock, and their mouths were on his ears. They sang him siren songs that ground down on his decency and all sense of honour he had as a male.
“How do you like her royal cunt?” Very much. “My, how hungry you are for an undeveloped snatch.” Starving. “If you force that weapon in, you might kill her, you know? It’s almost as big as she is. How could it fit inside?” Every last inch. “You paedophile. Bad, dirty, horsecocked paedophile!”
He couldn’t take it any more. He had to fuck her. He was so hard, his dick hurt; he felt like he was about to burst. It wasn’t a desire any more, nor was it a craving: all of his body—every drop of blood, every pound of flesh—was screaming to breaking point to fuck her. He was born for this, bred for this, countless generations leading up to a singular, all-consuming instinct: to rape little children.
His body straight, his cock guided by elven hands, he pushed. She didn’t give in, so he pulled back, and once again he pushed. He adjusted his grip, held her down, steady in his massive hands, her little body so tiny it felt like a toy, and once again he pushed.
His mate moaned and riled him on. “Harder! Harder! If it won’t fit, make it fit! I want you, all of you!”
It shouldn’t be possible. It couldn’t. Two feet of cock inside a girl just over four feet tall. He was so massive compared to her; he would reach up to her head. There was no way. No way, but… why, then, did those words echo inside his head?
All of you!
He roared. He was so into it, he actually roared, and with one last push he was inside her, tearing through her precious, cherished virginity, until he slammed right into her cervix.
“Don’t stop now. My womb hasn’t known men yet.”
He should see to that, then. He pulled out of her tight cunt, so tight it might just chop his glans off, and slammed right back in. It didn’t give way, but still, he felt that he was deeper by the smallest fraction. Possessed by mad lust, he repeated the motion, punching at her inner entrance with his flat-tipped cock.
“Into my womb!” Thrust. “My womb!” Thrust. “My second cunt! Push it all the way i—”
Like that, he was inside her, until even her uterus was all filled up and he was pressing against a wall. But that wasn’t enough, and never would be, even though her belly already looked like she was in a late term pregnancy, with a phallic shape protruding several inches up. Most of his cock was still outside her, and he was intent on forcing it all in, all 24 inches of it, so that she would be well and truly deflowered.
He thrust and stretched her, reshaping her body for his needs, her organs struggling to accommodate him. With every motion he made, with every extra inch he drilled inside her, he wanted to defile her more, he wanted to break her, to ruin her, because she was pure and untouched and beautiful, and it felt so great that he was destroying her.
More. More! More of his horse cock inside of her, until not an inch remained, until he was all the way inside of her. Her stomach bulge had inflated to such grotesque proportions she’d practically doubled in volume. It parted ways with her body at around her chest level; and, when he’d finally buried all of his horsecock in her, it was level with her face. He stayed there for a moment, enjoying the silken tightness, the feeling of her throbbing heart through her vaginal and uterine walls.
Then, he pulled out as far as he could with comfort. Her deformation deflated; she looked human again. He thrust back in with all his force, and she was a fleshlight with limbs. Watching her change like that was intoxicating; it was addictive. That beautiful, childlike body… he wanted to defile it beyond recognition. She was a slut! A tiny, preteen-looking elven slut! He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to degrade her. He wanted her to ruin her for other, lesser men.
With a roar, he jackhammered his cock in and out of her, putting all the strength of his muscular hips into it. He held her in place and pressed down on her hard, not just his thrust, but his body weight, too. Her eyes were rolling back into her head, and she was flailing her arms and back in every direction, as she moaned in pleasure, as her cunt moaned disgusting, liquid sounds, as the slapping of their bodies echoed through the room when they collided.
He came inside her, and he came buckets. His semen, having no other other place to fill, only served to inflate her stomach further, like a perverse balloon. Fearing that might be too much, he soon pulled out with a loud pop and a stream of semen pouring out of her, then unleashed the rest of his seed on her. Her face, her chest, her belly, whatever he could find. Such great amounts, and such great pressure, it was like he was pissing on her. It was a mind-boggling volume, litres of it, showering the once virginal blonde with his seed.
All of the elves that were busying themselves all around him jumped forward and started licking it up. From the floor, from the poor slut herself, it didn’t matter. They gulped it down either way, drinking it as if it would cure all ills. As he watched over the erotic sight, he slowly came to realise he didn’t feel satisfied at all. Far from it, he felt like his thirst had only grown now that he’d tasted the juice of the finest oasis. He wanted more. He wanted all of them. He wouldn’t stop until every single one of those children had been filled up, balls deep, with his cock.
“Sir warrior, please…,” the black-haired elf said, as the rest of her kind were satisfying the thirst of their own. “I would like to be your next sheath.” She took his hand and brought it to her crotch, and as she did her crotch plate fell, clacking down. “My youthful pussy… please make it yours.”
“You fucking whore!” he yelled, grabbed her and forced her down, face on the floor. He grabbed onto the thin velvet covering her and ripped it off her, exposing her bare skin. She was wonderfully small and skinny, her spine drawing a perfect, indented line from her shoulders down her butt, decorated by a pair of dimples. He wrapped her impossibly long hair around his arm and pulled, raising her up, holding her against his chest. He groped her prepubescent flatness as he put his cock between her legs. Like that, she could see, she could feel how large he was compared to her.
“I’m going to fuck you like a mare. I’m going to tear your kiddy cunt in half!”
“In my womb. Please. My tiny little womb!”
He fucked her like that, her knees on the floor, her head in the air, balancing her by pulling on her hair. He lined up his cock with her cunt, and forced himself inside. He slammed right onto her cervix and ruined her virginity; he would never get tired of that. “Deeper!” He pulled out and slammed back in. “Deeper!” Again, and he got in, stretching her womb wide. “Ah, it feels so good! It feels so good to have you in!”
She knew full well that wasn’t the end of it, and he wasn’t about to hold back. “This is what elven kids deserve. To have your preteen wombs filled up with horse cock!” Pulling out, and then back in, he forced her body to take his shape, just like his previous mate’s had. “Is this what you like? Do you like being a cocksleeve?”
“I want to be your little fleshlight. You filthy paedophile!”
Ah, why did that word rile him so much? He pulled out and redoubled his efforts. He fucked her like he meant it, like he hated her, like he loved her; it didn’t matter any more. Thoughts and emotions, reason, unreason, everything was indistinguishable any longer. He didn’t know of any higher order functions, he just performed as his body commanded. It was as if there had been some biological instinct guiding him; an instinct somehow cultivated to best rape children. He knew it was wrong. That’s why it felt right.
“Take it! Take it! Take it!” he yelled as he forced more and more inside of her. The elf screamed and moaned; she swung her hips and enticed him to dig farther in. He moved his hand down from her chest to her belly, so he could better appreciate what horrors he was inflicting to her body. He felt her cunt tighten every time he thrust in, every time more of him was forced inside of her. She was climaxing, again and again, her mind lost in orgasm. He stretched her and raped her until all of him was inside her, until she looked more horsecock than elf.
“So that’s what it feels… to be properly deflowered.”
Yes! Yes! That untouched elven cunt, that perfect, hairless, spotless pussy of a child; he had made it his. He was fucking it. He was soiling it. His! Only his! He pulled out, and felt her deflate. He pushed in, and felt her grow. That was it. That was sheer, distilled corruption, translated into touch. He couldn’t believe that he was doing something like this to a child; it made him go nuts. These were the actions of a true degenerate. The actions of an unholy paedo. That had been his true self.
He dug into her warm, wet cavern, the hole that had been singing his praises. He could hear the change in the air gap; he could hear her body stretch. Like leather pushed to its limits, tissue close to breaking point. He’d turned her child hole into the perfect mare. The chamber meant for her children, though in her youth she was infertile yet. Before she’d known puberty, before she’d grown hair, she’d begged for equine cock, she’d begged for two feet of meat.
He came, and he fucked her as he came. Litres poured out of his cock, then litres poured out of her when he pulled out. He used his seed as lubrication, he used it to better fuck the underage slut. That body… that tiny little body, so thin and tiny it felt like a toy in his grasp, yet that little thing felt better than anything else he’d had. He was ruining her, yes, but she was also ruining him. He could never have another woman. How could he? A woman with breasts, a woman with body hair, a woman that’s a used up, old hag? Impossible. The cunt of a elf, the cunt of a child, the cunt of someone who’d spent more time protecting her chastity than the age of his entire civilisation; there was no besting that.
Letting her fall on the floor, he let out the last few spurts of his equine seed on her back, decorating her with a parting gift. He stood there to catch his breath and watched as, like before, a crowd of elven kids formed around her to clean her up, to drink his semen, like it gave them second hand-libido when they consumed the come of a paedophile, having freshly deflowered his victim. There were so many of them, seemingly unending. Overlooking them, they were nothing short of a mob; a giant, prepubescent, and far too attractive mob. Could he really fuck all of them? He didn’t know if he had the stamina, let alone the bodily fluids to satisfy every elf, but he knew damn well that he would try, even if it led to a premature burial.
The brown, green-haired elf was tending to his cock, cleaning up the mess that was stuck on it with her mouth, savouring the taste of the freshly broken hymen of her fellow elf. Even the most close-minded bigot would at least grant that the elves were orderly and knew how to manage a queue; he would have felt very bad if he’d been forced to pick one elf out of the many, for he only had one cock and didn’t want to leave anyone unsatisfied. It was much easier on his nerves when they came to him, one by one, so that he didn’t have to live with the burden of disappointment, or keeping track of which ones he’d already fucked. Granted, it wasn’t difficult telling them apart, either: their hair was in all the colours of the rainbow, and there was a great variety in ornamentation and hair styling as well.
Unlike the others, the brown elf was already naked. Her skin really set her apart from the rest, as they were pale, albeit not in the exact same shade. Perhaps she was from a different settlement, or perhaps she was a dark elf, though dark elves’ skin was closer to charcoal in pigmentation, well and truly black, much like his fur. This one, on the other hand, was a very saturated brown, like she were made of milk chocolate, and very attractive to look at. He was astonished to discover how much he was staring at it; her skin, just her skin. It was so soft and of the finest, diffuse texture, he wanted to lick her and bite her and swallow her whole. Ah, she was beautiful. Is this what love feels like?
“Is your s-s-stallionhood ready for another round?” she asked as she was kissing the side of his cock near the base, looking up to him. Large, sea-green eyes, childish innocence and paedophilic eroticism mixed in equal measure. He would never get enough of the contrast between the elves’ tiny mouths and hands against his monstrous cock. This inappropriate mismatch of proportions made him want to fuck them all the more, the largest cock fit only for the most tiny holes. No, that was not entirely true either: he would be eager to fuck them even if he didn’t fit inside them at all, satisfied by their tongues, their hands, their feet, their thighs, their armpits, their hair, everything he could find. So attractive were they, so perfectly matching his perverse desire for underage girls, that he was willing to give up the sensations of a mare’s insides, if he could have the prepubescent paradise that were their outsides.
He lifted her up and sat her on the edge, then knelt down so as to kiss her. He made a mess of her face and neck as he ran his fingers up and down her back, and his thumbs on her sides, feeling her spine, her ribcage, her perfect skin. He could’ve sworn she indeed tasted like chocolate, but more likely the aphrodisiacs were playing such tricks to his mind that he’d started experiencing synaesthesia.
“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you extra hard.”
He lowered his hand to between the elf’s thighs, yearning to feel the softness of her virginal brown pussy. Its bright pink would surely have a great contrast with the surrounding skin—and be just as soft. Or, at least, another chastity plate. None of that: to his surprise, what he felt was an erection and testicles.
“Ah,” he said, far too many feelings mixing together, preventing a more intelligible reaction.
Before he could do anything further, the elf reached out to his hand and held it closer against her— his groin. “Weren’t you going to ravish me?”
With that shockingly perfect combination of cuteness and seduction, there was nothing his dick wanted more than to be inside of him. However, he was a boy. When all was said and done, he may have been a paedophile, but he wasn’t a homos— Ah, fuck it! Boy, girl, it didn’t matter, so long as he looked cute. He was short one hole, but he still had enough to satisfy a stallion. He spread the elf’s legs wide, revealing his “surprise”: a little elven penis and two small balls, soft and hairless and very tight, so tight his foreskin clung tightly over his glans despite the raging boner. Why, the elf might have been even harder than he was. The previous ones weren’t unexcited by any stretch of the imagination, but seeing it in terms he could relate to was especially arousing to him.
He lowered his head and licked. How could male sex organs possibly so cute and feminine? Was it because he was a kid? That was it: his childish charms transcended simplistic notions of gender. Children were their own gender! Whereas the stallion’s manhood was huge, rough, and bulging with veins, the elf’s was tiny, soft, and innocent. He licked all over his immature balls and shaft as the elf dug his fingers into his back. Then, when he’d had his fill, he flipped him over and raised his butt to better access his solitary hole.
He ran a finger over his perineum; the uniform skin where a cunt would have been had some exotic allure to it. The elf yelped in pleasure as he had his erogenous zone touched and teased. Above, his anus: the stallion spread the elf’s buttocks wide to reveal his hairless arsehole. It twitched and revealed its bright pink insides, and, just as he’d imagined, the colour was a perfect match for the brown flesh that surrounded it. He leaned in and tasted it, tasted the elf’s shithole, pressed his massive tongue inside it until there was no room left inside his rectum, and tasted the velvety softness of his intestinal walls.
How could another man’s arsehole be so sexy? Though he’d already raped a couple of children, he felt that he was doing something particularly dirty, eating out a boy’s arsehole like that. The depravity of it made his cock twitch, alongside the elf’s moaning.
“My butt is as soft as any pussy. Inside, all of it; I’d like you to be my first.”
He wasn’t going to get any wetter if he licked more. The stallion straightened himself and prepared to sodomise the boy, doggy style. For him, too, that would be the very first time having anal sex. The other girls he’d had were very adamant about that hole being exit only, and though it was were he pooped from, he couldn’t deny he had some perverse fascination with it. The way it twitched, opening and closing as if to sing get inside!, he would be gay if he didn’t fuck it. So what if he had a dick? That was just a guarantee that he was a buttslut.
He got inside his wondrous shitter and filled him up. His rectum, his colon, his large intestine; every time he had trouble moving forward, he pulled out then pushed back in with increased force. His bowels spread in order to welcome him, reshaping themselves so that he would fit inside in spite of the immense pressure. The stress against his prostate was enough to make the elf ejaculate, coating the floor with a few droplets of his spunk, but he was far from satisfied. “Deeper! Deeper!” he commanded. “My s-shithole! Turn my shithole into a pussy!”
His guts were pressing all around him in strange patterns, like he was trying to milk him. Tight, wet, and far too warm, that hole was no defecatory organ; it was made for sex, it was made for men to lose themselves inside, it was made for filthy paedophiles. It was already a pussy— no, it was better than a pussy. Before he knew it, he was all the way inside his prepubescent shitbox, his massive balls against the elf’s little ones. With two feet of horse meat inside his filth passage—with his gigantic stomach bulge sandwiched between his face and the floor—still, the anal whore found it in himself to wiggle his hips around, rotating them against his groin and begging to be defiled further.
“Show me what sex with a man feels like. Pound me until my arsehole breaks!”
He pulled out and thrust back in with so much force he was going to feel all cramped and aching in the morning. That didn’t matter. He was fucking a prepubescent boy’s shitter. That didn’t matter. He had degenerated beyond salvation, but it didn’t matter. He was falling in love, had already fallen in love, and he wasn’t about to stop. He fucked his arsehole like his life depended on it; he fucked it as if it was the last thing he did. He fucked it with such passion that even if it would give him a heart attack, the pleasure of it outweighed all the years lost.
He raised his knees to where the elf stood, legs spread wide on either side of his waist. Right hand next to the elf’s face, the other over his abdomen, and his dick pointing down, he fucked him harder, faster, and deeper than before. The elf’s buttocks rippled with the force of their collisions when their hips touched, and his dick was flopping up and down, squirting fluids all over the place. His tiny, tight butt looked comically undersized for the stallion’s massive waist, now looking even wider since he had his legs apart. He couldn’t get enough of looking at it, he could be sated masturbating to the vision every night going forward. Pressed down like that, he looked so minuscule and fragile, a tiny baby getting dominated by a gigantic monster several times his size. An elf’s soft, skinny body. A stallion’s wide, muscular form. They shouldn’t be compatible, yet he was taking him, all of him, was taking a horse cock so thick and fat it was almost larger than he was, all inside his poop cannal.
His arsehole was gripping on him tight as feudal debt, a good two or three inches of his rectum forced out when his horse cock was removed; his spotted equine pattern was now further decorated by the prolapsing folds of his rectal flower, and lines of adhesive fluids connecting his belly to the elf’s hips. Saliva, ejaculate, intestinal fluids, whatever they were, they had a foul, erotic smell, no doubt aided by the farting sounds the elf’s hole made as countless inches of a horse were forced inside. His anus, once just a darker shade of brown than the surrounding flesh, was now stretched and red from the abuse.
“I’m gonna come inside of you. I’m gonna come until I get your boypussy pregnant.”
The elf was beyond words at that moment, but indeed he came, the hardest and most he’d had today. He came inside a child’s shithole, inside another man, his fertile sperm doomed to perish inside his digestive tract, try as it would to find an egg. He buried himself balls deep inside him and came litres, until there was nothing left. The elf’s bulge increased in volume almost twice, until his bowels couldn’t hold any more of it in and it came flooding out of both ends. His mouth, his nose, and of course his arsehole, a massive volume of horse ejaculate coupled with a loud sound, as the elf farted the fluids out of his shithole with such immense pressure that it coated the stallion up to his face and chest. The elf of course had his own orgasm, but at this point it was impossible to tell whose mess it was that littered the floor.
The stallion pulled out and fell down on his arse, exhausted and spent, as another gush of sperm flooded out of the elf now that his hole was gaping six inches wide with the former blockage gone. With his heart beating in the aftermath, he was disturbed to discover that even after he’d given it his all ploughing the boy’s arse, somehow, he still wasn’t satisfied. Every time he achieved orgasm, it seemed, his lust only increased, chipping a little further at his sanity, replacing a little more of his soul with a mindless child rapist and sodomite. Certainly, the way his wide open anus was trying to restore its original shape, the way he could make out the exact shape and tint of his insides, the way he could see his intestines squirm, none of that was helping calm him down. He felt like he needed to go in for another round despite just having finished.
The elves had their work cut out of them during the cleanup, but there were so many of them that even this excessive spread seemed like an easy feat. As expected, since some of it had spilled all over him, the elves were on him again. The ones taking care of his cock were especially fervent, not at all disgusted by the idea that it had just been inside another elf’s shitting pipe; if anything, it further incensed them. Just thinking about it made him leak precome.
“If you liked anal sex so much, you should have said so,” a black-haired elf said.
“You can have whichever hole you prefer, mister! You can fuck my butt all day if you want!” said a pink-haired elf.
“Both,” the blonde elf said. “You should keep going until there are no virgin holes left.” And, with a smirk, “Of course, you should pay special attention to my arse.”
“Ha ha…,” he laughed in resignation. He’d gone through all this trouble to discover something new about his sexuality, and all he had to show for it was a doubling of his workload. Here’s hoping the elves knew how to cast healing spells.
When all was said and done, and every elf had been fucked to their satisfaction, the stallion could barely count as alive, and would have to spend several days recuperating. Nevertheless, his services were greatly appreciated, as the energy that they’d collected from their collective degeneracy could raise mountains and part the seas. Only a small fraction of it would be spent wiping the slate clean, restoring their virginities and blasting specific memories of the event from mind, save for a nonspecific recollection of pleasure beyond measure, sufficient motivation for them to try again. Next time, hopefully with even more elves, and perhaps they could convince the stallion into having a second cock magicked onto him.
A fortuitous paedophile indeed, for his loyal harem to grow without his knowing.