Iron Hog & The Siege of The Elves

Little Bavis sweat beneath his leather armor. This was not on account of the heat, it was noon and yet a cool breeze passed through the guildhall, but instead from the dread. He knew the first member of his harem would determine his eligibility into the greater monster hunter guild the north-western continent of Profus had ever seen: the Gaping Skull. Tapestries depicting the Skull's heroes of old anointed the walls elaborately carved wooden walls. Each hero was surrounded by beautiful women of every monstrous variety. A door opened at the far end. An old hunched man approached Little Bavis. Upon seeing the elder scholar, a trembling began in the recruit's chest all the way down to his ankles. He knew he could not have a more strict or demanding Overseer than the man before him. Infamously known as Edward, the Historian of Depravity, he wore several black robes with arcane sigils and several occult trinkets on his gaunt hunched person. Most obvious of all was the shinning codpiece that bore the silver demon skull insignia of the guild. All in the Skull had one as their badge of membership. Beside him was his ever present assistant. She was a woman made of semi-transparent dark blue fluid, a rare kind of slime girl. Her figure pushed the maid's outfit she was wearing to its limits and her body's composition caused it to jiggle excessively with every step. Little Bavis swallowed hard at the thought of the woman he had brought in comparison.

"What is this?" The Overseer demanded. His voice was dry like parchment and wicked like scrawled blasphemies.

"Th-This is the first member of my h-harem, sir!" Little Bavis answered too loudly. In his anxious haste his voice cracked causing his companion to scoff. Edward looked up and down the wood elf standing next to the young leather-clad recruit. She was easily twice his age in elf years and four times that in human ones. She had a thin figure who's posture revealed no interest in Little Bavis or anything else for that matter. The tall brunette languidly looked at Edward. She was absent-mindedly picking something from her teeth.

"Hello again Levalin." "Master Overseer." She replied with the barest attempt at a curtsey. Little Bavis flew into a panicked confusion at how the two could know each other. The Historian of Depravity reached into his robes and pulled out a small pouch of gold coins, counting them before tossing them to the woman in barmaid dress. She casually lifted up a hand to catch the coin purse and then, swift as a sparrow, drove that fist into the stomach of Little Bavis. "OUGH!"

"That was a test boy! You're a disgrace!" The Overseer railed as the brown-haired hireling left the guildhall counting her coins. "The Gaping Skull is not a bring-a-friend-you-just-met tavern. It is a guild. A guild for adventurers that burn with a yearning for life's greatest pleasure: a harem of beautiful monster girls!" The old man was riled up now. He was rubbing his temples in abject frustration. "And you call that an elf?? Where was her elegance? Where was her pride? Where was the inextinguishable purity? Where was the ASS, boy!?" The raving old man spat on the recruit still doubled over in pain. "You know NOTHING of elves! You think any barmaid with pointed ears will do for the Gaping Skull??" The Historian of Depravity hobbled back to his assistant whose inky liquid stretched from the pool at her feet to form a similarly semi-liquid chair. He took a seat facing the whimpering recruit. "So you like elves? Then let me tell you a tale of the greatest elf-layer Profus -nay THE WORLD- has ever seen before I send you off." He settled into the wobbling seat with his eyes fixed on the stammering recruit, "He was six feet tall and almost three hundred pounds. He wore a helmet in the shape of a tusked boar. His name was the Iron Hog and he was man with a passion for elves. "

--

The dwarves were laying siege to Ellis, the elven nation to the north but their advance had been stopped by the elves' unsurprising ability to be comfortable staying still and doing nothing for long periods of time. All the sieges of the major cities were at a standstill and the dwarves no longer had the manpower to hold the line and continue pushing north. They turned to the Gaping Skull and we sent them the best man for the job.

To call the Iron Hog a man would be a generosity he would scoff at. He was a putrid beast of a person whose armor needed to be built custom to accommodate his massive gut. Armed with a blunt mace that was used more as a two-handed club and a truly unrelenting endurance, he was insurmountable in battle. Most overbearing was the smell of the man who refused to remove said armor to sleep or bathe. He was a living, panting, stinking siege engine and all of us in the Gaping Skull knew he loved it. The only thing he loved more than his own capacity for destruction were elves. When I asked him if he wanted the job on the southern front of the elven war he dropped the full roast beast he was loudly devouring onto the floor and asked me to repeat myself as though he could not believe it. Once I did he shoved me aside and nearly took the front door of its hinges, panting and squealing with excitement. He was unstoppable and that was exactly what the dwarves needed.

Days later when the Iron Hog pushed his way into the war council's tent the dwarven men were disgusted and nearly sent him away. He gestured to his massive demon skull codpiece and assured them that he was in the right place. They had hired a member of the Skull and he was our representative. Begrudgingly, they welcomed him in and explained the situation to him. The small elven town to the north, Tremlin, was the target of their present siege. They knew the elves were desperate because they had cut down trees to fortify the already existing naturally grown wall surrounding them. The gate and surrounding wall were not only several dozens of feet tall but impossibly thick. They explained that the elves inside were mostly civilians, untrained mothers and daughters, and they wanted to take the place without the excessive loss of life they would reap from burning the whole town down. At the end sharing this, or maybe even before, the dwarven commander was shocked to see the Iron Hog had vanished.

Squealing, howling, and sprinting down the forest hill with an excitement between that of a madman and a child, the Iron Hog rushed the town's fortified wooden gate, iron club in hand. The elves on guard at the top of the wall were surprised by the sudden noise and hurriedly went to their bows. Upon seeing the Iron Hog, however, they did not bother wasting an arrow on what they thought was a single solider. They were fools. The deafening snapping of timber awoke all in Tremlin and the dwarven encampment. With one strike the Iron Hog had severely damaged the gate. He was panting like a beast at this point. He would often say he could smell the elves that were most his type. Those simultaneously most pure and more depraved. He smelled that sweet aroma coming from within the village and he would not be denied it. His great iron club was pulled back and with another mighty swing the gate was knocked open and broken beyond repair.

"They've breached the gates!" The few elven soldiers yelled but it would not be louder than the triumphant war cries of the dwarven infantrymen pouring into the city. The Iron Hog, however, had his own mission. As typical of our contracts, guild members are entitled to the living (or undead) spoils of the conquered. A shining example of Gaping Skull ethos, the Iron Hog bound through the chaos in search of his prize. He brought his helm's iron boar nose to the sky and breathed in deeply through his mask. He would then dart with startlingly speed in pursuit of the intoxicating aroma of elven lust. He crushed any remaining guards beneath his feet and club without a second thought. I am told from some dwarven infantrymen that were present that he was breathing so heavily and so desperately through his nostrils that the sound echoed from his massive helm like a swine grunting. "Too thin...too short...no...not right...move. Move! Get out of my way!" He stuttered and roared. The Iron Hog was like a man possessed and yet the only one driven by purpose in the sea of screaming chaos.

He found what he was looking for in what I am told was once the wealthy part of town. A large wooden manor seated near the center of the townscape. The sudden crack and subsequent snapping of the door was nothing compared to the gate he had caved-in outside but it must have startled the family inside. When the Iron Hog forced his way passed the doorframe built for slender Elves he found a small family cowering inside. He entered, hunger incarnate, and at the end of the lavish living room he beheld his prize. Behind an elven man dressed in fine silks and a young elven boy dressed in the same, each carrying knives, was a woman who looked the combination of the two. The mother of the household. The obviously older but still ageless elven gentleman said something in Elvish but the Iron Boar spoke nothing of the language. He pointed at the woman fearfully standing behind the two quivering men. The elder looked at the younger one, his son, and ran forward recklessly, screaming with his blade. The Iron Hog merely swung a gauntlet-laden fist and knocked the fool almost into the next room. The son dropped his blade in panic and ran to his father. Finally, our kinsman could gaze upon his prize unobscured.

The high elven woman stood just beneath the height of her intruder. She wore a white silk dress clasped around her neck with a wooden ring, falling loosely down her front while exposing her light fair shoulders and arms, only to be bound again by a thin leather belt before splitting into two sections and exposing the sides of her long legs. Her bare slender back was to the wall and she grasped at it in fear. Looking at him with caution in her golden eyes she spoke in the Common tongue. "Wh-What do you want with us, you brute?" Her voice was melodic, pointed, intentional, like that of a trained orator or singer. The terror of the intrusion did nothing to rattle her appearance. Her blonde hair was still perfectly in place with a single elaborate braid falling down her shoulder.

"Mmph..." The beast grunted, "You." And he once again lifted a finger this time explicitly to her full round breasts.

"Me?? With you? Surely there must be something el-" Her protest was cut off by the one handed swing of Iron Hog's club into the perfectly manicured wooden floor cratering it with a horrific crack. Several instruments and trophies mounted shelves fell over with a deafening clatter. The woman gulped hard and approached. "If I do this. Will you...spare my family?" The Iron Hog only grunted in reply. She dropped to her knees. Her thin hands were quivering as she placed them down to support herself. "Your name." The low panting voice above her declared more than asked. "Ah! M-My name is Cithreal. Cithreal Walwynn." Her confidence returning, "Maybe you have heard of me? I was once a famous bard in-"

"Cithreal Walwynn...By the rights and customs of the Gaping Skull, you are now mine!"

--

"The sacred words!" Little Bavis said, enraptured in the story. He had shifted to sit on the floor, folding his legs. The young aspiring monster hunter nearly had stars in his eyes.

"Indeed." Edward smiled, doting upon their history, before quickly retuning to a scowl, "Do not interrupt me again, boy!" Bavis shrieked.

--

The Iron Hog unfasted his guild codpiece and breaches. Cithreal's heart stopped. Her golden eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. A massive cock sprung forth, long as her forearm and twice as thick. The size struck her first. It was easily the biggest cock she had ever seen and the idea instantly emerged that it would be largest she would ever see. The second thing that struck her was the smell. It was musky, salty, and overpowering. It instantly filled the room even beyond his already present stench. Cithreal covered her nose with both hands in horror only to realize too late that...she liked it. "You beast! I am a noble Elf! You except me to..." She trailed on looking at the massive flaccid piece before her, "do anything with this??"

"I smelled you...all the way across town...came straight here...because you...want this!" The Iron Hog panted and then rolled out a low laugh.

Cithreal blushed pink from pointed ear to ear. "Im-Impossible! I am very much satisfied. I have a loving husband who is very capable of pleasing me." She could not help but finish her sentence staring at the massive rising piece before her. Inside, Cithreal knew she had not enjoyed "bonding" with her husband in decades. He was the size of her small thin finger and so weak. In her youth she had traveled the world. All of her lodging would be paid for in her song and charm. Countless men of all species paid for her needs in hopes of laying with her. She had on more than one occasion even allowed it. But eventually she settled down in a normal small town with a normal small husband. It was...not ideal for one who reveled in life's adventure such as she. The high elf had seen the massive gate break inward and was struck by the single man who was able to perform such a feat of strength. For it to be him now demanding her affection after so many years of the same simple elven partner excited her beyond her own expectations. In truth, she had been wet since the front door broke. The pale elf couldn't lie to herself any better than she could lie to the beast of a man before her. She would, however, try to anyway: "I'm only doing this for my family, you brute." She hid her face beneath her long blonde hair and turned away from her husband and son before unraveling her tongue and taking a long lick from the thick hanging head to the musky base, eyes rolled back in silent smiling ecstasy.

Cithreal continued her long licks along the top of the rising fuckpillar. Only when it hardened enough to stand on its own did she switch to the underside. Her small elven lips planted long wet kisses from the tip all the way down the base and that's where she found them: the Iron Boar's massive stinking balls. The smell was so powerful she let out an audible moan when it hit her. The musk intoxicated her. She buried her face in between them, such was their size, and licked and kissed in a frenzy. So drawn in by the weighty cumtanks she rose to further smother her face in them. The Iron Boar watched the beautiful blonde elf's head disappear under the girth of his base while her pale round ass rose on all fours. The white silk hung beneath her perky cheeks leaving her ass almost completely exposed for him as the sounds of her moaning tongue bath echoed from beneath him.

The elven mother rose with a façade of grace. Perhaps she had realized her own volume or maybe she just wanted to lie to herself more. Her hair now a mess and her face covered in sweat and saliva, she brought her golden eyes up to meet her captor's. "I bet you never wash these do you? How disgusting." She shivered while grinning, "I'm an elven noble and you want to defile me with your putrid seed? Ridiculous." The fair elven bard stroked the long shaft with both of her slender hands. "This thing isn't built for elves. It's built for sluts. Is that what I look like to you?" Her smile was obvious now as she brought the head of the massive cock to her lips. "I'm a proper elven woman. I'm only sucking your...absolutely astounding...dick for my family." Golden eyes glazed over as she whispered the compliment she could not keep to herself.

With this, the Iron Hog clasped two hands around Cithreal's head. Long white ears and tufts of blonde hair emerged between his fat armored fingers. Her eyes opened wide in surprise but would only open wider as our kinsmen forced his elf-breaking girth inside her mouth. Her panicked screaming turned to ecstatic moans against the sloppy wet hammering of her throat. Her jaw was pushed to its limit around the width of the fat pillar and the length caused her neck and then her chest to distend around his bulge. Her thin arms beat against his iron-clad gut in protest and he laughed. Cithreal had completely given up the fight by the third neck-bulging thrust. Her pale arms hung limply and her golden eyes rolled firmly back in her skull. Occasionally, as she was violently forced up and down his length, she would lift a small quivering hand to try to stop the onslaught of cock but almost instantly resigned every time. Spit and pre-cum flung in every direction due from the sheer force of the face fucking, covering her face and hair, but it truly began to pool on the white silk shelf of her chest. Her hard pink nipples bouncing almost free of their constraint with every thrust.

As this continued the high elven adventure felt her composure slipping away. She was becoming lost in the depravity and the pleasure. If the stench did not intoxicate her then the brutal pounding of her throat left her punch drunk. The Iron Hog finally pulled out inch after thick inch from the elven mother's gullet. With a desperate inhale, the head fell from her tongue onto the top of her perky tits. Cithreal remained there, mouth agape, tongue hanging, eyes rolled back, knees spread apart, a twisted, defiled vision of her normal appearance. She was shaking violently. She was cumming. Cithreal wouldn't remember when she had started but she been brought to climax solely by the rape of her face by a cock truly too large for her. But the climax had not stopped even when the spit-coated piece freed itself from her thoroughly stretched maw. When her body finally started to calm down she tried to say something but it came out as only the hoarse babbling one would expect from a thoroughly satisfied goblin not a noble elven woman.

The Iron Hog pushed his lover onto her back and she offered no resistance. He lifted the dress to reveal her soft pink pussy between two completely drenched pale thighs. He tore the dress off of her, finally freeing her melon-sized breasts. They seemed almost out of place on her thin torso but the Iron Hog loved most the elves whose bodies were beyond their elegant thin kinfolk. Grasping her calves, he mounted her and prodded her wet womanhood with his massive fuckpillar.

A cry rang out in Elvish, awakening Cithreal from her stupor. It was the husband who had now recovered from the previous injury. His panting wife weakly turned to look at him. He was crying and begging for this stop. "Sh sh shhh. My love, it is alright. Truly, it is better this way. I am...not...the proper elven maiden I thought I could be. Perhaps it was my previous life but I fear" She said with a weak smile as the Iron Hog lifted up her hips, "I may have been an elven slut all along!"

Our bestial kinsman drove his enormous dick deep into the elf beneath him causing her to shudder and gasp, utterly breathless. Quaking in pleasure she looked down and saw that not even half of his manhood was inside her. A finally honest face topped the curved elven form. A vast smile was worn unapologetically as she propped herself up on her elbows. "Gods, take me you brute!" The armored hulk needed no encouragement. With a squeal he began fucking her with his full length. Cithreal let her tongue hang out and eyes roll back as one hand played with her full bounding breasts. An obvious bulge surfaced across her pale tight stomach with every inward thrust. Every time the Iron Hog had pulled out her felt her insides pulling at him for more. He was completely resizing her and she knew it. Worse still she loved it. "Ooh Gods yes!! Break me you beast! Ruin me for elven men henceforth! I am your little elven slut!" She vainly attempted to wrap her long legs around her lover's massive waist. Moaning and screaming she began to race towards climax again as the weight of her new owner brought his massive fuckpillar down all the way into her womb with every single thrust.