A Cog in the Coliseum - The Escape

She had been a normal girl once. Now she barely even remembered her name. Ellea. She had to repeat it to herself every morning just to remind herself of the life that had once been. The daughter of a fisherman, she had once lived by the sea in a pretty little town called Nante. She had hated it as a child, hated always smelling of fish, but now she would have given anything just to smell fish again. She had hated the frequent rains, the gray skies, the constant wind, but how perfect it all seemed after being kidnapped.

Ellea had been beautiful too. All the boys of the villages around Nante had vied for her hand before their testicles had even dropped. Now it had been years since she had even seen a mirror. Her breasts had come in a long time ago, and her figure had filled in in many other ways, but what man would want her now? A musclebound brute, built for pummeling. And it was all the doing of Arroal, the demon lord.

He ruled the land since before she was born- before her father had been born too. But her pappy still remembered. His armies had crushed the kings of old and asserted their dominance over the land. He demanded absolute loyalty and imposed his iron will upon all. Life was tenable, it wasn't awful enough to spark too many rebellions... But by far the worst of it were the tributes. Every month, a village was selected, and an armed contingency of goons ranging from goblins to fallen aasimar would demand the village's most beautiful girl, and remove her, never to be seen again. Everyone knew where they went, though. The coliseum.

In the city of Darrak, the second largest trading hub in the empire- and the location of Arroal's summer home- was host to the annual Valkyrie games, wherein women of all fair races would compete in brutal, yet nonlethal gladiatorial combat. The winners were rewarded, the losers went back to their cells to await the next game. It was tremendously popular, and had been one of the empire's most celebrated events for years, even before Ellea could walk. And soon it would be her turn.

She knew very little about what awaited her, except that it would be grueling. She had been trained for this, every minute of every day since her captivity. The only moments of respite were her carefully monitored sleep hours, and meals. Right now she sat before a bland meal of salted lean beef, some sort of flavorless vegetable gruel, a thick cracker, and a potion to wash it down. It was a particular potion, brewed specifically and exclusively for trainee gladiatrixes. It was delicious, and they regularly changed the flavors, and Ellea hated it. She hated it because she knew what the game was. Every other part of the meal was catered to drive the girls to drink. Dry, salty, flavorless, the potion was their only joy. The potion was their luxury. And it was also the most potent part of this entire operation.

She gripped the neck of the bottle so tightly her knuckled turned white. A hairline crack appeared. She gulped it down quickly, caring not to spill a drop. She hated the potion, but it was her only hope as well. She had to grow stronger. She had to overcome others, even ones who had been here longer than she.

She flung the bottle and it shattered against the wall outside her cell. A goblin on the other side whimpered and hurried to brush it up. She now had half an hour of rest. To digest. The nutrients had to take, the potion had to enter into her bloodstream. Then it was at its most effective.

She sat, eyes closed, and simply waited, reminding herself once more of her name. Ellea, daughter of Lod the fisherman, from the village of Nante. Nante, where she longed to return to. Where she would return, even if it cost her her life.

The first sign of the potion's work was the heat in her loins and the hardening of her nipples. She fought the trembling, but she couldn't help it. The first time, she had made the mistake of trying to masturbate, but her captors hadn't allowed that. There was only one way to get off in the dungeons: work.

The door opened, right on schedule, like on clockwork. An orc who had once towered over her but now looked small by comparison lugged in a complex array of stones and leather straps. He set to work and she quietly allowed him. She was laden with a heavy leather harness, weighed down by incredibly dense and heavy volcanic stones, placed on strategic spots to work her muscles as efficiently as possible. Yet her most vulnerable and womanly parts were bare. These work 'suits' were the only clothes afforded the girls of the coliseum. Functionally naked, she rose, easily handling the weight that the orc had struggled with. Soon he would be replaced with a stronger slave, one who could handle the next level of harness. She was ushered from the room at spearpoint- crude stone, but with the threat of steel behind them if she resisted- and made to join a procession. Girls of so many races- human, elf, halfling, gnome, aasimar, tiefling, tabaxi, half-orc- walking single-file toward their day jobs. Or were they night jobs? You never knew, a mile underground.

Deep into the caves beneath the mountains they were led, handed heavy sacks of ore and stone bigger than they were, ultimately to their stations. Were it not for the potions, this would not be possible. The aphrodisiac was just a motivator, the true power of the potions was its strength-boosting and muscle-growing potency. No strength potion had its lasting effects. At least not without a severe cost.

Ellea was led to the furnace. She would be shoveling fuel. She dumped her enormous bag into the hopper, and out came the shiny, black lumps of coal, tossing up a cloud of coal dust. She flung the bag away and another girl picked it up- a small one, probably recently captured. Ellea picked up a shovel- ironwood with a lead core for weight, and a head of a metal she didn't know but hated for its incredible weight, with a spherical counterbalance on the other side, made of the same metal. She could break even this shovel if she wanted to, but then how could she grow strong enough to escape? She set to work.

Additional weights were added to her lower body, and she was made to switch positions with another amazon regularly, working their legs to match their arms. Moans began to chorus through the caves. Muscles burning, Ellea could feel her own pleasure mounting. Her first orgasm was coming quickly today. She tightened her inner muscles, coaxing herself closer to that sweet release, but she bit her lip, refusing to give her captors the satisfaction of hearing her cry out in ecstasy. The straps on her breasts rubbed her nipples perfectly- specifically designed, she had no doubt, and a small piece of smooth, polished metal rubbed against her button. Every little movement drove her higher. This was how it always was. She knew most of the girls loved the work, because of the heights of pleasure it gave them. But for her, this was just another thing to endure.

Her pleasure built rapidly, and before her second shift of positions, her inner muscles were already contracting, her juices flowing liberally down her thighs. A kobold guard approached her with a waterskin. She jammed her shovel into the ground, splitting the rock beneath, and lifted the small male up with one hand. She didn't even feel the difference. Her muscles bulged, deltoid and bicep each bigger than the dragon-like creature's head. He held up the water fearfully and she brought him closer, close enough to hold it to her lips. She drank deeply, then he pulled away. She grunted and swallowed, then set him down. She was still thirsty, but if she drank too much she would get sick, and her captors knew that. A sick girl couldn't work. Couldn't grow stronger. She would get another drink the next time she came.

Five orgasms later, she was taken off of forge duty and brought to the mines. Her hands were fitted with gauntlets made from the same metal as the shovel head, and she was thrust into a corner. She didn't know the name of the metal she was mining now, only that it turned the rocks blue. She wound her arm back and brought her fist straight into the rock, the spikes on her knuckles driving into the stone, ripping it from its spot. She got to work, swinging away, only the weight behind her punches available to carve through the solid rock. Smaller girls- though bigger than most men out in the world- scurried between the other miners, collecting the fallen stones in huge sacks, carrying them off to the smelters.

Ellea came another four times by the time break time was announced. She was led with the others back to their cells, and the cursed harness was removed, the orc grunting as he lugged it from the room. The back door was opened, allowing her access to the underground hot spring. This was no leisurely dip, however. The girls were scrubbed roughly of grime, cuts disinfected harshly with salt and alcohol, and then brought back to their rooms. A clean girl was a healthy girl. And a healthy girl could work and grow strong.

It was a perfect system, Ellea mused as she laid down. They did labor nobody else wanted to, fueling the empire's coffers and their war machine, all while growing stronger, conditioned to love it, and motivated to perform well in the next games. If they performed well, more people came, and more money was spent. Ellea would have thought it elegant if it weren't so utterly heinous.

She could feel the potion continuing to work inside her, the tears in her muscles being knit faster than would be possible without it, her gains being retained at a spectacular rate. By the time the one hour rest was finished, she would be almost as fresh as she had been that morning, though not quite. Her upper body work was finished, so next would be core and back, then another rest, followed by lower body, and then sleep. It was the same day in and day out, the order rotating twice in what she suspected was a year. As she felt the potion's effects, she was reminded how her feminine form was somehow also retained- likely another effect of the aphrodisiac. Her breasts remained full and plump, her butt soft atop her tremendous glutei, her hips broader than her father's shoulders. She wondered if that was by design too, and if so, for what purpose?

"Ellea," she said again, reminding herself. Her voice had remained womanly as well. She wondered what her face looked like now. She would see it once again when she got out. Soon, she thought. Soon.

...

Her moment finally came. She felt she had grown strong enough now. It was the best chance she had. She had just eaten, she could feel her strength growing already. Any minute now, she would hear the sound of stone dragging as her 'tailor' brought her gear. But not this time.

She stood up. She had not stood up in between meal and dressing in years. She walked to the bars of her cage. The goblin patrol walked past without a second though. In an instant, she had snapped his neck. It had only taken two fingers. Oh, but the rush of snuffing out the evil little creature! She felt such vigor like she had never experienced before! Fueled by this experience, she gripped the bars of her cage. They yielded to her flexing trapezius muscles like a dead fish in her grip, yawning as they strained against her in futility. These were bars usually used to contain trolls. She grinned and stepped through.

She could hear shouts of alarm coming her way. She picked up the goblin's spear and shield. As the voices came closer, she wound her arm back, then hurled with all her might. The spear sailed through the air faster than a crossbow bolt, whistling until it struck something with a tremendous thud. There was a brief chorus of strangled belches, then frantic yelling followed. She hurled the shield, and the yelling stopped. Stepping through the gloom she beheld her grim handywork: three goblins pinned to the wall by her spear, run completely through, and two more decapitated by the wooden shield. She picked up another shield, one made of iron, and continued. Their weapons would just break if she were to wield them.

A small platoon of orcs tried to stop her next. She ripped stones from the walls and slew each of them with one stone each, caving in their skulls. Armed with a pair of falchions, she continued. A larger group, armed to the teeth, appeared, and she tore through them like butter. She grabbed their armor and warped it with her hands to fit herself somewhat. It couldn't take a blow from her fists, but against such puny weaklings, it would last her until she found something more suitable. Now clad in essentially a steel bikini, she delved higher, toward the surface.

Two trolls stood in her way next, wielding an enormous iron club and a wicked mithril axe, each two-handed. She shore through their arms in a single swipe of her orcish falchions, then rent their heads from their necks in the next second. She dropped her puny weapons- daggers, really, to her- and plucked up their weapons. They weren't fit to her human hands, but a little exertion of pressure, and they conformed, the wood of the axe handle compressing and splintering, while the iron of the club seeped between her fingers. She hefted both and gave them each a swing. Finally, something decent.

She cut their steel plate and reinforced her current armor by squeezing it together, making herself some leg plating and a proper breastplate. By the time she had finished, the next fool approached her. A cyclops, fully armored, and swinging an enormous sling. He swung about and let loose, but she simply snatched the stone the size of her head from the air, and flung it back. The cyclops's helmet caved into its face and it fell over dead. Satisfied, she made herself a stomach-plate from its armor, and a pair of bulky shoulderplates.

Five minotaurs stood at the next fork in the road, all wearing spiked armor. They charged, and she threw her axe. Four were sliced in half, or very nearly. The last one was flattened by her simply dropping her club on it. She didn't even need to swing. She didn't bother looting these ones.

She was panting, but not from exertion. Nothing had even challenged her yet. She was simply aroused. Reaching down, she pressed down on her groin plate so that the metal rubbed against her pussy in just the right way. Now with every step and every swing, her pleasure rose. She howled in her first orgasm as she split a bronze dragon clean in two. Her next swing crushed the skull of its mate, preparing to breathe fire, her arm actually boosted by the force of her orgasm.

She crushed the windpipes of a hydra, leaving it to die without a single head chopped off. Spellcasters stood before her next, but she brought the ceiling down upon their heads by pounding the walls, then simply dug her way through with her bare hands. She cleaved through a carpet of dire pangolins with her axe and left a procession of armored owlbear plus their bugbear handler nothing more than a series of red smears on the walls. A gorgon attempted to turn her to stone, but she flexed through the rock as it formed on her skin and sliced its head clean off, then proceeded to use its dead gaze to turn the twin aasimar in the next room into statues which she used as twin battering rams to break through the stone door they guarded.

At last, she emerged into the sunlight. The sun! She blinked, fighting back tears. How long had it been? She was so pale in its light. But she didn't have time to enjoy it. She wasn't outside yet, but there was light at the end of the tunnel. Ahead stood a true giant, twenty feet tall, bedecked with glowing armor, and a pair of thick shortswords (short being relative- each was five feet in length) that warped the air around them with the heat they gave off. A female giant, waiting at the end of the hallway. Probably another product of this sick game. Smirking, Ellea swung her club at the wall, making herself her own exit. The giantess was forced to face her outside, where her smaller weapons were at a disadvantage.

Ellea charged first. Their weapons clashed in between them. The axe resisted, but the club was sliced cleanly in half. With the now jagged end of a useless lump of iron, Ellea stabbed the giantess's arm, her skin hissing as the red-hot melted metal made contact. The giantess grunted, but took a swing. The human amazon grabbed her foe's larger hand and flexed powerfully, bringing the swing to a complete stop. The two stood there, locked in pace as they battled each other. She grimaced into the giantess's ugly mug and growled, "I am not going to let you stand between me and freedom! Not when I'm so close!" She roared and flexed, cumming again. Her muscles, powered by the potion and the orgasm, surged forward. There was a tremendous snap and the giantess cried out in pain. Her right forearm hung limply, elbow shattered by the force of Ellea's push.

Grinning sadistically, the human picked up the enchanted shortsword the giantess had dropped, and swung. There was a hiss, then a thud, and the giantess sagged to the ground in death. Ellea picked up the other sword and slung her axe over her back, then took a moment to laboriously bend the armor to fit herself. Once done, she slowly walked toward the gate.

Doors opened on all sides. The closer she got to her freedom, the louder the roars grew. When she was about halfway there, all hell broke loose. Demons, aberrations, and beasts whispered of around campfires to frightened children emerged into the light, all bearing down on the single woman, who continued her determined march toward freedom. The first five were cut down by one swing of one of her swords. She buried the other in the skull of a beast, which she then flung at three others, impaling them under its spiked bulk. She grabbed a glowing spear from one and used it to skewer four demons, which burst into ashes. Abandoning one of her flaming swords, she dual-wielded the holy lance and the other sword, letting the massive mithril axe on her back act as a shield as she transformed into a whirlwind of absolute death and destruction.

At long last, the last of the beasts shuddered and fell, and a panting and bloodied Ellea stepped triumphantly toward the gate. She shuddered as her inner muscles clamped down in the twelfth orgasm she had had since the beginning of her breakout.

A screech drew her eyes to the sky, where the biggest black dragon she had ever seen bore down upon her. Its jaw split open and fire rained down. She lifted the carcass of a beast of ice, and the flames passed over her. As the dragon wheeled about for another pass, she gripped her flaming sword, drew her arm back, took aim, and then let loose. The deadly, sweltering projectile sailed through the sky with deadly aim and impaled itself in the tremendous creature's neck. With a strangled roar, it plummeted to the ground, impacting with a resounding crash. Ellea retrieved her weapon and ripped herself a dragonskin sheath for it. She made a sack from more of its skin and filled it with its precious bones, claws, and horns, then swung it over her shoulder. There was no sense escaping if she had no money, after all.

She still hadn't even broken a sweat. As she stood before the door, she could scarcely believe she had come so far. The demon lord Arroal must not have been around to stop her, and the rest of his men were too afraid to try. Grinning to herself, she raised her arms, then brought them down upon the door, splintering the beams that held it shut on both sides with a single strike. She strode forward, beholding the setting sun before her, and bellowed in victory, daring anyone to try and stop her now.

She walked slowly, deliberately, purposefully, through the town on the other side. The strongest men she beheld cowered in fear, none reaching higher than her chest. They regretted supporting the coliseum now, she was sure. But she would not be causing a bloodbath today. She would not be evil, not allowing herself to be warped by the demon who had trapped her for so many years. That would be her victory. Now she would find home, and see if there was still a place for her there. And if not, who could stop her now from exploring the world as she pleased? She would become a heroine. An unstoppable bulwark of justice. Ellea the dragon-slayer.