The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“And then, Amberly... I mean, Amber... you should- wait, are you even listening to me?“

Snapping her attention back to Akaza, Lady Amberlynn of House Oriand tries to push down the anger in her gut, at her name being shortened. It’s actually quite a serious insult in elven culture, but... she’s well aware that it could’ve been a lot worse. Iktik could’ve used one of those degrading new names he came up with—and he still might if she gives him reason to.

“Y-yes, sorry Akaza. I was listening. Go on.”

She tries to be kind and polite to her co-workers at least, who are in at least as bad a position as she is. Akaza, in particular, is putting in some effort to help Amberlynn get acclimatised to her new job, after yesterday’s incident with Rucktusk. Which resulted in a newly expanded pair of breasts for the enslaved elf, although she’s sure that Iktik would’ve found some excuse whatever she did.

“Ahem... as I was saying... if a customer puts their hand on your body, your best bet is to ignore it. Either that or pretend that you like it—but that only encourages them.“

Amberlynn (or just Amber to the tavern’s patrons) is still only half-listening, though. Letting a bunch of drunkards grope her, however demeaning, can’t exactly be called difficult. No, she’s more worried about what Iktik said to her last night. That goblin semen was an... afro-something?

“If they ask for something extra, call for Ditzi, the halfling lass. She’s more than happy to tend to those kinds of customers, especially as I’m, uh... like this.“

Rubbing a hand over her swollen belly, Akaza looks at Amberlynn again—and it’s clear that the elf still isn’t paying attention. Instead, she’s pondering.

She’s sure that she’s heard the term before somewhere. In an alchemy tome, perhaps? It’s probably got to do with how weirdly warm she’s feeling. Even the skimpy new top she’s wearing is almost welcome, even if her perky nipples are pressing against the inside uncomfortably. And there’s a weirdly moist itch between her legs...

“Akaza, what’s an aphrodisiac?”

That question certainly piques the amazon’s interest, and she almost smirks a little—until she realises that Amberlynn is being totally serious.

“Ohhh... well, Amber... an aphrodisiac is something which... well, it makes you more aroused. Sexually. Most of them wear off pretty quickly though, so unless your master gave you goblin jizz, then...“

Akaza trails off, seeing the look on the naïve noble’s face.

“Ah. Well, then it won’t, um, fade until you... you know... climax. Do you think you can handle it until the end of your shift? I guess I could help you out if you need it...“

Breathing heavily, Amberlynn is trying not to hyperventilate. These feelings are sexual? And originating from a blasted goblin?! There’s no way she can let that creep get to her! And she’s definitely not going to need any help from a knocked-up human hussy.

Objectively, she knows that Akaza is probably in much the same position as she is, and is being extremely kind to her. But right now, all she can focus on is the unwanted, humiliating warmth in her loins, and how much she wants to touch herself. Which is not something that a good elven lady should do—but would at least be better than letting someone else do it.

“N-no, I can... I can last until my sh-shift is done! Then I’ll d-deal with it myself...”

Puck is still on edge, trapped in this unfamiliar city. But now that he has something to do, it’s become a lot easier to handle. Keep an ear out for any bounty hunters in town—well, there are a lot of them, so more specifically any bounty hunters looking for Lady Amberlynn.

Early this morning, a notice was finally posted. 1,000 gold pieces, for an elf that a goblin got for four. While it’s certainly not the highest posting around, it has the odd distinction of the target being in Kanzibar, so it seems that there’s definitely some interest.

The fact that politics is involved has deterred most of the smarter or more reputable bounty hunters, but that still leaves plenty that fit neither of those descriptions.

“Why do some elves want anuvver elf anyway? Ain’t dey all pretty much the same? All de elves I met is the same...“

A duo consisting of an orc and a human, who seem to have about the same brain cells as one competent bounty hunter when they work together, are Puck’s current surveillance targets. In response to the human’s muttered comment, the orc cuffs him over the back of the head.

“Dat’s ’cause you’ve only met one elf, dummy! Anyways, it’s all ’bout money. I ’eard their truffle harvest was lean this year.”

Ignoring the fact that Puck can see at least two other elves in this tavern, which doesn’t bode well for these men’s observation skills, his ears prick up at the last point raised. News that he didn’t know, about the Oriand’s primary export, their truffles. Surely, they wouldn’t leave a knight sworn to their house in the dark about things like that?

But then again... in the Golden Forest, a lot of news was rather filtered. And it would explain why he was sent alone to protect Lady Amberlynn...

“Anyway, my buddy said he might’ve seen ’er in dat fancy place, near the docks. Y’know, the one where the girls suck yer cock while ya drink.”

Now that is bad. Not least because he didn’t know that the Shackled Swan was that sort of establishment (although he’s sure that Lady Amberlynn would never take part), but also because it’s correct. And if these two dumbasses know where she is, he might need to watch her more carefully on her walks to and from work...

A few hours later, and Amberlynn is regretting her blasé attitude. This arousal is horrible. It’s warm, insidious, and she even caught herself rubbing her crotch against the corner of a table earlier—in a storeroom, thankfully. But it still troubled her that she’d acted purely on instinct, if only for a moment, like an animal.

Back out in the taproom, she’s counting down the minutes until the end of her shift, when she spots a familiar bulk sitting at one of her tables. Bracing herself, she walks up and greets him, in the same professional manner that Akaza suggested to her.

“H-hiya, Mister Rucktusk... my n-name’s Amber! What can I do for you t-today?”

Unfortunately, being professional is all relative. So, as she reluctantly pushes her buxom chest forwards, a hint of glow on the surface of her collar makes sure that she complies. Looking up at the elf who cleaned his nutsack, the orc grins widely, although he barely even glances at her face.

True to his word, Iktik’s change certainly kept the customers from groping her behind as she walked past—because instead, they would grope her chest while she stood right in front of them. And she would push down her ire, and give them a forced, but hopefully not encouraging, smile.

But the orc is really testing her, as he immediately reaches up to roughly paw at her chest.

“Good ta see you an’ yer tits, Amber! Thought I’d rather see ’em wrapped ’round my cock, eh?”

It’s not a direct request, although she thankfully wouldn’t be forced to comply, so Amberlynn sidesteps the issue entirely and gestures toward the orc’s half-empty flagon. Apparently, another server in the tavern had already fetched him some stew and ale, which would hopefully lessen the elf’s interaction with this oaf.

“Would you l-like a top-up? We also ha-aaahn~...“

Amberlynn moans, biting her lips and grinding her thighs together as Rucktusk brushes her nipple through the thin top she’s wearing. This is almost getting out of hand here, and as she glances down, the orc’s ugly cock is starting to push up from under his loincloth.

Marshalling her thoughts, which had become surprisingly scattered, Amberlynn looks around—and thankfully spots Ditzi the halfling emerge from under another table, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Ah! M-my colleague will be happy to see to you. Let me just f-fetch her for you!”

Pulling herself away from Rucktusk’s grasp, stifling the moan as he gets in one parting squeeze, she sends the stacked little shortstack towards the orc—and with that close call, she ends her shift. But Ditzi doesn’t work every day, so she knows that she won’t always be so lucky...

Walking back through the streets of Kanzibar, Amberlynn can’t get the memory of Iktik’s shaft from her mind. Knobbly and gross, it tastes disgusting of course, but... there was something about her throat being filled so thoroughly that affected her somewhat. Not to mention how annoyingly turned on the cum made her. And the stench...

There’s no way she can go back to him in this condition.

So, aware that this is probably a terrible idea, Amberlynn ducks into a secluded alley, and drops her loincloth. Out of sight from the street, her hands immediately move down between her thighs, where they rub at her wet, elven pussy, inflamed by goblin jizz.

Muttering under her breath, Amberlynn tries to justify this to herself—while she knows that she’ll feel ashamed once she’s finished, there’s no way she can resist any longer.

“Th-this is... mmf... sensible! Yes, I... I have to do this before... before I...“

An unfamiliar feeling starts to build, and her finger starts to press harder on that little nub, circling it with the wetness she’s been producing, and-

“Well, well, well... look ’ere! We got ourselves a li’l highborn elf, eh? Wha’s yer name, girl?”

Reacting with a start to the sudden voice, Amberlynn immediately pulls her hands away from her crotch. Which, annoyingly, leaves her just before she can reach that unknown peak she was aiming for. Looking up, she realises that her presence in the alleyway didn’t go unnoticed—and two men are standing at the entrance.

A tough-looking human, with a cudgel at his belt, and a muscled orc, who doesn’t look like he needs a weapon. Shorter and slimmer than Rucktusk, thankfully, but still an unwelcome sight.

“Nngh... n-no! I’m... my name is A—... Amber. And I’m j-just a simple slave! I work in a tavern!“

They share a look, then the human reaches into his coat and pulls out a rolled-up scroll. Amberlynn can clearly see that it’s a bounty for her to be captured, although the drawing of her face is thankfully not too good.

“Jus’ Amber? Sure it ain’t, uh... Lady Amberlynn o’ House Oriand?”

Lady Amberlynn of House Oriand nods, trying to look as innocent as possible. While being enslaved by Iktik is one thing, she knows that her father is coming to fetch her. Being captured by bounty hunters and brought to House Lundar would be even worse. They could use her as leverage, to damage her family even further, and she would do anything to protect her House. So, she moves her hand back between her legs.

“Would a... mmf... an elf n-noblewoman be standing in an alleyway... r-rubbing herself...?“

The two rough men, who thankfully don’t look all that intelligent, look at each other. Grabbing a slave off the street is one thing if there’s a reward—but the thought of getting caught slavenapping without money for bribes is enough to put them off the idea.

“Hrrrm... I dunno... but ain’t the posh birds all meant ta be pervs anyway?”

Amberlynn tries not to take that personally, as these men obviously have no idea what they’re talking about. But they’re still dangerous, and need to be persuaded to leave her alone.

“I’ll p-prove it to you with, um... I’ll rub your c-cocks! Would this... Lady Amberlynn... do that?”

They ponder the question again, and this time seem a lot happier with the answer. If this was Lady Amberlynn, then they would take her in and get a reward. But as it doesn’t seem to be, then they get a handjob, and then can still go and find their ‘real’ target. For men like this, who think a logical fallacy sounds like a fun evening, they barely hesitate to drop their pants.

Moving down onto her knees, Amberlynn reaches up and tentatively cups a shaft in each hand. The orc is already erect, with syrupy precum starting to leak from the ugly tip, although the human seems just as big while soft.

But this is for her family! Not her own survival, but the prosperity of House Oriand. So, she starts to rub, cursing her poor luck, and then... then she looks up to see Sir Puck framed in the entrance to the alley, like a guardian spirit.

“Ah! S-sorry, men, I n-need to go.”

Quickly releasing the ugly schlongs, and grabbing for the discarded loincloth, she steps towards her knight. The two bounty hunters look up in frustration—but even they’re not stupid enough to fight a well-armed knight with their pants down, so they can only watch as the pair of them fade into the crowds.

“Ya think... ya think that maybe were the classy elven girl?“

“Well, damn! I’m glad you were around ta keep my property safe, eh?”

Getting back to Iktik’s cabin was a stark relief for Amberlynn, and the adrenaline has even worked some of the arousal from her system. Not all of it, unfortunately, but she’s able to keep her hands away from her crotch as the goblin thanks her knight.

“Do not mistake me, goblin. While I still detest you, I would not have Lady Amberlynn abducted by brigands. You may need to invest in some more protection, though.”

Moving around towards the bed, where she can dress away from her attendant’s gaze, Amberlynn is stopped by Iktik’s voice before she can don the loincloth again.

“Nuh-uh, girl—lose the top as well, then turn to face the good Sir Puck over ’ere...”

There’s a slight flare of blue as Amberlynn starts to resist that order, but it fades quickly as she’s forced to concede. Removing the shirt, she reluctantly turns to face her saviour, now dressed in only her stockings and boots.

And the collar, of course. Which, as Iktik slides his hand between his slave’s legs, stays dim—showing that her reaction is not an order.

“Aaahn~!”

From behind, the goblin pushes two of his fingers directly into Amberlynn’s sopping wet pussy, and a breathy, sensual moan passes her lips. This most definitely is not how a noble elf should act in front of her knight, her legs quivering, hands tensing, and her face betraying her arousal even further.

Sir Puck scowls down at the goblin, trying his hardest to ignore this undignified display, although he can feel a corresponding warmth in his pants as well. Amberlynn’s nipples are also hardening a little, puffier than an elf’s should be, along with the swollen orbs they sit upon. Which Sir Puck is still not looking at, not even a sideward glance.

“W-what is the meaning of this, goblin? Do you not humiliate the good lady enough by having her work in a tavern?”

Carefully, so as not to bring her to the peak just yet, Iktik starts to curl his dirty goblin fingers up inside of Amberlynn’s sacred hole.

“Humiliate? Nah, this ain’t for doin’ that. Instead, it’s a reward. You rescued ’er, didn’t you? So drop yer pants, an’ let her give you a blowie as thanks.“

They’re talking about her as if she isn’t here, which is bad enough, but then her perverted owner offers her mouth to Sir Puck! Somehow, being offered to somebody that knows her, and knows what an impropriety it’d be, feels even more humiliating. Although she has to admit that being with an elf would surely be better, comparatively, than anybody else in this thrice-cursed city...

“...blowie? You... you want... no! It is completely unbefitting of a knight and a lady to... to... consort, as suck. As such, I mean.“

“Nnngh~... th-thank you, Puck... yes. That is... mmmf~... r-rather unseemly.“

Grateful that he turned down the offer, Amberlynn lends her opinion as well, all while Iktik continues to violate her virgin hole with his unworthy hand. Which would’ve been a lot easier to resist if it didn’t feel so damn, traitorously good. All because of that filthy ball-sludge he fed her!

“Hmm, I guess ya might be right. Instead, how about ya jus’ let Amber jerk you off into her mouth?”

Thrown off a little by the shortening of her name, as all elves would be, it takes Puck a moment to process what was just offered. If anything, it seems even more humiliating, as if he’s not worthy of having her noble lips on his shaft... not that he wants that, of course! Before he can respond again, though, Iktik ups the stakes.

“Come on, elf-boy. We ain’t got all day! Drop yer breeches so’s Amber here can say thanks. Either that, or I’ll send her out onto the street, and have ’er do the same to the first horse she sees.”

Grimacing at that thought, as Amberlynn lets out a little gasp of dismay (coincidentally happening at the same time as a particularly deep finger-thrust), he nods solemnly and steps forwards. As he starts to loosen his belt, he catches her scent—floral and pure, like an elf maiden should smell, cutting through the nasty stenches of Iktik and Kanzibar.

But then his eyes stray to his lady’s body. Her slender hips, delicate face, unfortunately expanded chest... and her hands. Soft and smooth, unused to any form of labour or physical combat. He tries to imagine them wrapping around the thick girth of a horse, out in the middle of the street, and milking a thick equine load onto her noble features.

Suddenly, allowing her to pleasure him seemed a lot less improper.

“V-very well! I will... for m’lady... allow this.“

Amberlynn releases a slight whine (without the slightest hint of disappointment) as Iktik removes his hand from her crotch, then guides her down onto her knees. Then, in front of her eyes as his breeches fall around his boots, is Puck’s penis.

That clinical word is what comes to mind, after only seeing male elven genitals in biology textbooks up till now. They often went on at length about how elven men were the pinnacle of sentient races, as they were the only ones able to impregnate an elven womb—but in comparison to the orcish, human, and especially goblin cocks she’s seen...

“Oh! It’s, um... hardening.”

Between her legs, she still has that warm font of arousal, barely faded since Iktik’s fingering. And seeing a man’s equipment, even if it is her knight’s, stokes it up a little. Lifting a hand, she decides right then to do it without being controlled. Besides, even if this is wholly inappropriate... maybe Puck could do with a reward?

So, her fingers close around his erect penis, easily encircling it, unlike the bounty hunters that he saved her from. Almost four inches long, which Amberlynn recognises as in the top percentiles of elven endowment. His future wife is going to be very happy! Not that size is that important, of course.

“N-now, um... this is... ahem. Sir Puck. While this is most irregular, please note that I... am choosing to reward you with my touch.“

Yes, Lady Amberlynn thinks to herself. This is a way to save at least some face. Of course, she would never have done this without Iktik’s unwelcome prompting, but this is an irregular situation. The goblin is at least staying quiet, as is Sir Puck—apparently not trusting himself not to make things even worse.

But he meets Amberlynn’s eyes as her hand slides his hairless foreskin up and down his narrow shaft. This is far more than he ever could’ve imagined. Elves are, at least sexually, very conservative. The most he’d experience before now was a kiss on the cheek from one of Amberlynn’s ladies-in-waiting, after a feast. But to receive a handjob from Lord Oriand’s daughter herself...

“Nnngh~!“

With an almost surprised grunt, he finishes, a little sooner than Amberlynn had expected. But she quickly moves in underneath, opening her mouth and extending her tongue, as Iktik had said she would do.

It didn’t spurt out, like she saw that damn goblin do on her first day, firing multiple ropes of fetid seed all over her face, from at least a foot away. Instead, it just kind of... dribbled out. Which is probably what cocks are meant to do, right? It lands on her tongue and doesn’t really even taste of all that much. A little sweet, perhaps.

Continuing to squeeze the shaft, expecting the second and third squirts, Amberlynn doesn’t find anything else forthcoming. It seems that elves make do with quality over quantity! Yes, that must be the case.

“Hah~... ah... oh Lady Amberlynn, th-thank you... that was... um... wow...“

She meets his gaze again, which seems almost improperly affectionate, then with a glance at her master waiting to one side, she swallows the ejaculate. Flashing Puck a tight smile, she pulls away, standing up again.

“Y-yes, well... do not mention this to anybody else, of course. And let me know as soon as you hear from my father!”

With his balls emptied, and his trousers pulled up, Sir Puck readily assents to those commands. At a gesture from Iktik, he reluctantly leaves the two of them alone again. To discuss Amberlynn’s ‘safety’...

It doesn’t take Amberlynn long to explain all she knows about the bounty hunters—while it had initially been an abstract problem, after being found once, it’s now a very real threat. She’d hoped that that would be enough information, but the goblin also uses his control over her to get the details of her family’s current issues...

“The truffle harvest has failed for the last three years. We’ve barely made enough to keep the pigs fed, and while we do have other sources of income... my father had to take out some loans from other Houses. A lot of loans.“

Iktik perks up a little at the mention of pigs, but seems to find the fiscal politics between elven houses rather boring. He’s much more concerned about the possibility of Amberlynn being captured—but also interested in the fact that she’d prefer to stay with him than be handed over to the Lundars.

Having moved onto his bed to speak, the goblins fingers are back between her thighs, although they’re only softly rubbing the outside of her pussy now. Just enough to keep her horny and humiliated, but not enough to actually give her the relief she so desperately needs. No, desires. She doesn’t need this!

“So, I’ll need ta come up wi’ some way to keep you safe. I can’t afford guards, an’ yer elf boy can’t watch you all the time, so... hmmm...”

He pauses for a moment in thought, although his fingers continue to circle her feminine mound, absently tracing patterns in the embarrassing amount lubricant that she’s been producing.

“I mean, I guess I could let ya stay in here all day. But I still need to get my money’s worth from ya, y’know? Like... finally gettin’ to ’ave a go at this sweet elven puss o’ yours.“

She freezes in place, ignoring the surge of warmth between her legs. Despite the still-building arousal, Amberlynn is not so irrational that she’d let Iktik down there. She’s read enough of that damn book of his, Goblinology, to know that it’s a bad idea. Even if just once would probably be harmless, it’s a slippery slope with the magical collar still around her throat.

“What?! N-no! I’m not going to let you put your... your repugnant shaft inside of me! There must be an alternative.“

The goblin smirks, as if he knew that she’d say that. And even though Amberlynn feels like she might’ve fallen into a trap, she can’t see any alternative.

“Hmm... I ’ave got an idea for how ta disguise ya... but you ain’t gonna like it.”

Amberlynn narrows her eyes, although her hips still squirm against his palm. She tries to ignore the slightly sweet taste of elven semen lingering in her mouth, as it reminds her of the kind, thoughtful Puck.

“Well, um... w-what is it? It can’t be worse than s... s-sex... with you.“

“Don’ worry, you can take the day off, so’s we can go an’ sort it out tomorrow. But for now, I gotta deal wi’ my own arousal.“

Apparently not taking offence, Iktik pulls his fingers away from her crotch, and Amberlynn has to resist moving her own fingers in to plug the gap. That would not do, masturbating in front of a goblin! (Unless he told her to, of course.)

But no such ‘luck’, as Iktik takes that moment to pull his loincloth away, revealing his slowly emerging shaft. Mottled pink and grossly bumpy, it’s covered in the relaxing slime which let it penetrate deep into Amberlynn’s throat last night. Almost three times as long as Sir Puck’s, and easily twice as thick...

“If yer done starin’, you... hmm. I tell ya what. If you can give my cock a proper suck, wi’out being ordered to, I’ll return the favour, eh?”

Return the favour? Does he mean that... that he would use his mouth to... to pleasure her?! But as Amberlynn reacts in disgust to that idea, her pussy reminds her of how much she needs release. She’s not sure if she can last another day like this.

“Ffff... fine. I’ll... I’ll do it. But... don’t go expecting it again! Y-you hear?”

Iktik doesn’t answer, only raising an eyebrow sceptically as she moves down between his legs. From there, she tentatively wraps a delicate hand around his swollen, throbbing meat. It squishes easily, more flexible than elven or human genitalia, and Amberlynn steels herself before leaning in and starting to lick one side of the shaft. A trickle of gross precum seeps from the tip, and for a moment, the elf wonders if she won’t even have to suck.

But Iktik is quick to disabuse her of that notion.

“Hmph... that kinda half-hearted effort might work on yer knight’s puny dick, but you’ll have ya try better on mine. But you’re havin’ fun anyway, eh?“

And so, staying quiet (in part because the pre-cum is making her tongue go a little numb), Amberlynn moves up to the bestial tip. Swirling her tongue around the central protuberance, in the divot of the bulbous flare, she can’t help but notice how her pussy responds to the overpowering musk. Even if the act is abhorrent to her elven sensibilities, her body doesn’t seem to care.

This continues for a few minutes, and she even takes the first couple of inches into her mouth, which Iktik seems to enjoy. After the first reminder, and with Amberlynn’s effort to finish as soon as she can, she starts to put more effort into the task. Unfortunately, the goblin’s stamina really is a lot higher than Sir Puck’s was—and he unfortunately explains what he requires of her.

“An’ now, to finish off properly, you’ll need to force that cock aaaallll the way down yer throat, so I can use you as my own, personal jizz-toilet again.“

That was carefully worded so as not to be an order. To get that release she so desperately needs, Lady Amberlynn would have to willingly deepthroat a goblin’s gross, bumpy schlong. Her eyes shift up, focusing on Iktik’s face, but... she finds that she can’t quite bring herself to do it.

Maybe she can finish him off another way? Use her hands, or her chest again, which would be bad, but not quite so bad as-

“Well, I guess you made ya decision... so this time, it’s an order. Lady Amberlynn, of House Oriand—swallow my filthy, goblin cock.”

And the collar glows. And Amberlynn knows that she should resist, that she can resist, but... can’t muster the effort right now. Her head moves up, and her lips open wide then, with Iktik’s hand on the back of her head, she does as he commands. Of course, even if her mouth is occupied, she makes it clear with her scowl that this is not okay.

Iktik doesn’t care, of course, and just starts to throatfuck her. In a moment of final desperation, with her hands free, Amberlynn moves them down between her legs. She doesn’t care if the goblin sees her now, or that she’s doing this while his cock fills her oesophagus. She just needs to-

“Oooh~! Tha’s the stuff...“

Cum.

Emptying his balls into her belly, Amberlynn can feel his balls pulsing, sending his natural mana down harmlessly into her stomach. And she might’ve been more worried about what two loads would do to her if she weren’t busy shamefully climaxing as well. Apparently, the teasing and edging had brought her right to the edge, and getting her stomach filled was all that was necessary to tip her over into her very first orgasm.

The rest of the evening was spent much like the day before. Cleaning off, which was welcome, and fetching some dinner, not that Amberlynn was very hungry. Then, with the goblin still spooning her, falling into a restless sleep. When morning came, her pussy was wet again, the second dose of semen already affecting her—but true to Iktik’s word, he didn’t send her off to work at the Shackled Swan.

“This disguise had better be effective, master.“

Being led through the streets on the end of a chain is hardly any better, especially as Iktik hadn’t told her anything about what he had planned. At least, not until he stops outside a small log cabin, marked only by a small carved sign. ‘Stipplewright’s Slave-smith’. Knocking on the door sharply, he looks up at his slave with a suspicious grin.

“Oh, it will be. After all, who’d suspect that the esteemed Lady Amberlynn is now a Swine-Elf?“

As he says those words, Amberlynn’s heart sinks. She never did ask about that horrible term, and certainly didn’t expect it to actually come up again! Before she can question him, though, the door opens, letting a gross, musky smell waft over the pair of them. Apparently not caring, Iktik leads her inside, where the source quickly becomes clear.

In the centre of the small room is a stone basin, large enough for a person to fit inside, filled with an off-white, viscous liquid. Standing beside it, a sensibly dressed gnome finishes pouring a pale-pink potion into it.

“Ah, Iktik! Everything is ready for her, as you instructed, and adjusted to her high magical resistance. Lady Amberlynn, do you know what this will entail?”

She pauses, looking down at the first person to treat her respectfully since being bought (aside from Sir Puck). Well, the gnome is polite at least. Amberlynn can’t forget that he intends to do something to her, and she holds a very slim hope that the horrid smelling bath isn’t for her...

“Nnnn... ugh... s-sorry, no. Mister, um... Stipplewright, yes? What is a... a Swine-Elf?“

Moving over to a table, with an assortment of scrolls, potion flasks, and jugs of unknown liquid, he answers as Iktik leads Amberlynn over to take a closer look at the bath.

“Technically, a Swine-Elf is an elf. Or used to be, at least—I’m not sure anybody has formally classified them. It’s only really a description for the result of an ancient process that goblins developed, to improve an elf’s physical characteristics... well, ‘improve’ as far as goblins are concerned. I won’t explain the specifics, as the result can vary quite widely, based on several factors—such as the variety of elf, the time spent submerged, and which recipe is used. It will not affect your womb, though, don’t worry.“

Aside from that final point, none of that sounds good in the slightest. Why would they want to change such a beautiful elf as herself? And more importantly, what would a goblin find attractive? Still, if this can keep House Lundar off her trail, and prevent Iktik from despoiling her maidenhood...

“O... okay... and th... is this... um... r-reversible...?”

The gnome nods, scattering some white powder into the bath, although he doesn’t look completely sure.

“Yes indeed. At least, in theory—I’ve never done it myself, but I’m sure a sufficiently learned elf with the proper equipment could.”

At least that bodes well. Or... not terribly. She doesn’t like the sound of this alchemist having to make do with low-quality equipment, but there’s not exactly much she can do about it. Not with the threat of goblin sex hanging over her, and her collar backing it up. She’ll just need to trust in the skill of her father’s healers.

Amberlynn takes a deep breath to try and calm her nerves, then immediately regrets it, trying not to gag, while Iktik asks a question of his own. From the goblin’s tone, he already knows the answer, but Mr Stipplewright promptly answers.

“So, wha’s in the tub?”

“Well, it’s mostly water, but the primary ingredient is ten gallons of fermented pig semen. Along with that, there’s also clayweed sap, troll fat, expired healing potions, sea salt, and porridge oats. Those last two are good for the skin!”

Amberlynn has no idea what that disgusting first ingredient is for, but the others are more than a little worrying. Clayweed is often used in transformative potions, to help ‘mould’ the body. Trolls are especially known for their regenerative properties, and while blood is the traditional ingredient, their fat should be just as potent.

If the salt and oats really are just for her skin, then that leaves expired healing potions, a cheap magical catalyst which has little effect on its own but supplies mana to other ingredients. Of course, they’re only so cheap because they’re so unpredictable.

“Iktik will be coming by to spray his own load in there as well, while you soak, to help with the imprinting. Don’t worry, that mostly just changes your scent, so everyone knows that he owns you.“

Still in shocked silence, Amberlynn looks between the smirking goblin and the surprisingly matter-of-fact gnome. They’re talking about this like it’s a foregone conclusion! That... that she would just lie down and allow it to happen. Instead of lying down and letting Iktik clog up her womb...

“And we will of course include something clear and visual to designate your current ownership status. I’m sure you understand, Lady Amberlynn.“

Not liking the sound of that either, Amberlynn just nods, knowing full well that she can’t back out of this now. Hopefully, they’ve underestimated her carefully cultivated magical resistance, and she won’t change as much as Iktik clearly wants. Amberlynn is certain that any step along this path would leave her almost-pristine elven form unrecognisable to a casual observer. She just needs to ensure that they don’t go too far, and that it’s as easy to reverse as possible.

While her mind works feverishly to rationalise this decision as the lesser of two evils, a small vial of pale blue liquid is pushed into her hand, and Iktik instructs her to drink. Surprisingly, she recognises the taste, although the gnome still explains it to her.

“Now, you’ve just had an oxygenation potion, so will be able to stay under the surface. Whenever you get hungry or thirsty, just drink some of the bath. It’s actually highly nutritious—and elf pee will only make it stronger, so don’t hold that in. And, uh... we’ll scoop out any other waste.“

“That... w-wait, you want me to... to drink this stuff? How long will I be in there?!“

Mr Stipplewright looks to Iktik for that answer, strangely enough. But the goblin only shrugs, as he helps Amberlynn up onto the edge of the basin.

“A day? Maybe two?”

Digesting that unwelcome news, especially in light of the slowly building arousal between her legs, she glances over to see a mirror in the corner of the room. Gazing into it for a moment, at how she currently looks (minus the unwelcome breasts), she makes a promise to herself that she’ll see this form again.

“C’mon, girl. In ya get! An’ do all that Mr Stipplewright said, eh? Stay completely under until ya get pulled out, an’ swallow down the gunk. Then when you’re done, we’ll work on yer behaviour. Got it?“

Dipping her foot in with a flare of her collar, Amberlynn can already feel the faint prickling of magic, much like the potion that grew her chest. Giving a reluctant nod, she starts to lower herself down into the foul mixture. She knows that she’ll probably come to regret this, but can’t see any other option.

Just before she submerges, though, Iktik leans in close to whisper in her pointed ear.

“Oh, an’ I almost forgot... don’t resist the changes.“

And then with that horrible order, forcing her to allow the transformation to happen as much as possible, Lady Amberlynn of House Oriand, one of the most beautiful High Elves in the Golden Forest, sinks beneath the surface of the bath to begin her metamorphosis into a Swine-Elf.