The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Sinking down into the murky sludge, Amberlynn feels... almost serene, for a moment. The last few days have been pretty hectic, with one humiliation after another, and barely a moment to think for herself. And now here she is, with at least an entire day of rest. In a manner of speaking.

That serenity is soon broken as she feels the potion start to work. It presses against her, much like the breast growth potion that Iktik used on her, but much stronger. She instinctively raises her magical defences against the jumble of mana, mixed up too much for her to detect a single purpose—but Iktik had seen to that with his final order.

The collar glows, and Amberlynn’s defences crumble, letting the overpowered magic rush into her body, suffusing her with its corrupting influence. Gasping at the distinctly uncomfortable feeling, the bath’s contents fill her mouth as well. Pig semen, mostly, and it tastes even worse than she expected...

But again, Iktik’s orders ring in her ears, and she reluctantly swallows her mouthful, spreading the gross mixture through the core of her body. The oxygenation potion means she doesn’t have to breathe, but it also means she has no way of clearing her tingling tongue of the foul taste.

To make matters worse, the arousal in her crotch hasn’t stopped building. If anything, it’s increased. And while actually masturbating in this disgusting situation feels even more degrading than drinking the stuff, Amberlynn isn’t sure if she’ll be able to hold out until she’s done.

Iktik said it might only be a day, right? She can... she can last that long! And with her not putting up any resistance at all, he’ll surely want to pull her out sooner rather than later, otherwise...

A shiver runs down Amberlynn’s spine as she considers what the goblin might have planned for her—although the feeling doesn’t fade afterwards. As if the magic is sinking deep into her bones. But the noble elf can’t do anything to stop it, and just has to hope that Iktik doesn’t want to change her too much.

The good knight Sir Puck, a retainer of the House of Oriand, is still feeling conflicted about his ‘reward’ from Lady Amberlynn, even four days later. He hadn’t seen her around lately, and Iktik doesn’t have her in his hovel, which is... concerning. There are rumours that the goblin sold her, but Puck doesn’t believe them, hoping that they’re just part of some subterfuge.

He was pleased at first that she wasn’t working at the Shackled Swan, both because it’s demeaning for a highborn elf, and because it put her at risk of capture. But now that he doesn’t know where she is, and the goblin won’t tell him, he’s worried. Still, he needs to continue his duty—like his daily visit to the Kanzibar Post Office.

Where he finds not one, but two messages waiting for him.

The first one is exactly what he’d been hoping for, a message from Lord Rustermere Oriand, Amberlynn’s father. In it, the nobleman makes it clear that he is absolutely furious, which Puck can’t exactly fault him for. More importantly, he says that he will personally be visiting Kanzibar to retrieve his daughter... just as soon as he gathers the gold needed to free her. Which is certainly good news, albeit perhaps not quite as promising as it could’ve been. Was House Oriand really that strapped for cash?

Shrugging his shoulders, as it certainly isn’t his place to worry about that sort of thing, he moves onto the second letter. Written in a crude, scratchy font, it takes him a moment to work out that this note is from Iktik. Instructing him to visit the Shackled Swan tomorrow afternoon, where he’ll be able to meet Amberlynn...

Finally! Feeling rather buoyant, and resolving to apologise for putting her in the position of having to rub his elfhood, Sir Puck returns to his lodgings with a spring in his step. Although he doesn’t relish visiting that nasty tavern, he’d do just about anything to keep his lady safe.

Time passes in the bath. Time passes everywhere, granted, but to Amberlynn it seemed to pass at a crawl, like she was out of step with the real world. Trapped under the surface as her body was corrupted, powerless to prevent the foul magic from seeping into her body, Amberlynn tries to meditate.

It doesn’t work.

She doubts it’s even the end of the day before she gives into the arousal. It burns in her loins, even when submerged in this horrible goop, and her hands find their way down to her crotch. Slick with the Swine-Elf mixture, she rubs it into herself, and is soon gasping in another climax—although this time, she just inadvertently swallows some more nasty boar jizz.

Sometime around what she guesses is the second day, her lower body is lifted up out of the bath, and something is pressed against her abdomen. It hurts in the moment, although she can tell that it’s purely external—and the pain fades as soon as she’s lowered back down into the slop.

Trapped in the thick, cloying liquid, there was little that Amberlynn can do. Nothing to fill the time, and not even able to focus on her mana defences, the only interruptions are when she gets hungry or thirsty, and the collar forces her to drink down more of the muck. She would’ve thought that thirst would be the driving factor, but unfortunately, hunger seems to be increasing quicker while down here—likely to fuel her transformation.

Like that, the days drag on, with only the slightly changing light against her eyelids to mark the passage of time. Swallowing down the goop seems to become more frequent, and her urine spreads through the bath, albeit too diffuse for her to taste. And each evening, mind fuzzy from the lack of stimulus, Amberlynn drifts off to sleep.

When she awakes for... she doesn’t know which time, she was horny again, with fingers already pressing against her pussy. Likely from Iktik visiting to make a ‘deposit’ during the night, as he had been for a while. Her mouth had been open and gulping down the (worrying less disgusting) pig spunk while asleep, and it doesn’t take long for her to orgasm again.

Amberlynn still wasn’t satisfied, as more of the arousal was left each time she climaxed, but it seems like this is the last—because the fluid soon starts to drain. Without the dense liquid to support her, she soon sinks down to rest on the bottom of the tub, and then the rest of the nasty fluid leaves. And she’s suddenly out, in the (relatively) fresh air again, and-

Everything is wrong.

Her body feels heavy and bloated, but before Amberlynn looks down at herself, she spots Iktik standing at the edge of the bathtub. Annoyed and confused, and finally able to breath normally again, the first thing that the elf does is take in a deep breath, ready to question the smirking goblin.

Except, the formerly simple act of inhaling was not quite so simple.

“OIIINK~!”

A loud, porcine snort fills the room, and Iktik bursts into laughter, even as Amberlynn looks down at herself. Her familiar, petite body is gone, replaced by a huge set of tits, each the size of her head, and a soft, flabby belly. The rest of her seems just as expanded, with chubby thighs, expansive hips, and a plush, swollen vulva between her legs.

Above which, imprinted indelibly onto her abdomen, is a brownish-red tattoo. A circular crest, much like a stamp, with ‘KANZIBAR SLAVERS’ GUILD CERTIFIED—GOBLIN OWNED’ in the centre. Even if there’s no magic to it, the placement directly above her womb is still disturbing. The horrible sight throws Amberlynn for a loop, and her brain quickly gets back up to speed, although it’s still hard to take in.

“N-no, I... oink~... w-what did you... oink~... why do I... oink~... sound l-like a...“

“A pig?”

Not trusting herself to talk without sounding like a farm animal, Amberlynn just nods as she brings a hand up to her face—only to feel a wide, upturned snout in place of her nose, above an impossibly plush pair of lips. Fearing the worst, as her other hand hefts the considerable weight of one of her breasts, she reaches up to feel that her perfect elven ears are also gone, replaced with wide, drooping ones. Again, like a pig. A swine.

“Now c’mon girl, let’s get you dried up, eh? You’ve been in there four days, after all...”

In her book, ‘Goblinology, An Empirical Study’, Verity Q. Xenathim had a lot to say on the topic of Swine-Elves. Perhaps if Iktik had left those pages in his copy, Lady Amberlynn of Oriand would have made a different decision when offered a ‘disguise’. As it is, they were discarded in an alleyway, where a pair of kobolds used the diagrams as jerk-off material.

Had those kobolds been literate, they would’ve found out quite a lot of interesting information about Swine-Elves. Such as the fact that nearly all of them develop plush lips and a pig-like snout—the ‘oinking’ side-effect is seen as a strong positive.

Breasts growing, ears widening, rolls of fat plumping, and a few more features are also relatively common, although not always all at once. While submerged for longer than expected, and putting up no magical resistance at all, Amberlynn developed into a matchless, almost perfect Swine-Elf. That probably wouldn’t be a very reassuring fact, if she were to find out about it, especially regarding the single missing component.

You see, Mr Stipplewright wasn’t lying about her womb. While the entrance to her virgin nethers has swollen up, and increased massively in sensitivity, the productive parts are as-yet unsullied. While the exact number required isn’t known, multiple direct injections of goblin semen are all that stand between Amberlynn and interspecies impregnation.

And if that happens, aside from the abject humiliation, even the best alchemists of the Golden Forest couldn’t return Amberlynn to normal. The completion of a Swine-Elf transformation would lock it into place. Permanently.

With the slick, definitely disgusting fluid cleaned from her skin, Amberlynn notices some more details about how her body has changed. She’s a few inches shorter than before, but denser and no doubt sturdier, probably weighing nearly twice as much as she used to—the extent of her transformation is no doubt due to how long Iktik left her in there for.

Now out of the basin, her nose starts to pick up more than just the dregs of her corrupting bathwater—including something which smells enticing. For some reason, her pussy clenches, the new baseline arousal spiking for a moment, before she gets a handle on herself.

But she can’t let herself get distracted. Moving up to the mirror, Amberlynn can hardly pull her eyes away from the horrific transformation. Even the tips of her formerly elven ears have turned greenish, a little like a goblin’s, although the rest of her body is... well, Swine-Elf is an apt descriptor.

“Oink~... is th-that... oink oink~... me?“

Stepping up behind her, Iktik moves his hand to Amberlynn’s rear, which she’s not surprised about. But she is surprised when the goblin gives something back there a tug, eliciting an undignified squeal from her throat. Twisting around so that she can see her behind in her reflection, the last part of her transformation becomes clear.

A curly pig’s tail. Short and pink, forming a little corkscrew, which Iktik was all to happy to pull on. The skin seems a little raw, lighter than the rest of her body, which shows that it’s a new addition—but also makes it stand out.

“Well, ya don’t look much like Lady Amberlynn anymore, huh? Instead... I’ve thought of a new name for ya. This new name is the only one you’ll respond to. It’s what you’ll introduce yerself as. And you’ll act like ya love havin’ this name.“

Each of those is an order, in and of itself, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Iktik to tell her what he’s come up with. Amberlynn dreads it, especially when he says that it’s ‘appropriate’. A play on words, perhaps? Or something to do with her family? She doesn’t need to wait long to find out.

“From now on, you’ll be... Truffles.“

Amberlynn gasps, which comes out as a bit of a squeal, as she hears the name—and what’s more, she immediately knows that it’s humiliatingly, perfectly suited for her. Shortening her name had been bad enough, but this is immeasurably worse. An Oriand, a member of one the most esteemed noble houses of the Golden Forest, named after their top export... it’s absolutely mortifying.

But Iktik’s order was clear, and the collar pulses with light and mana, forcing Amberlynn’s plush lips into a wide smile.

“I... oink~... it’s perfect!“

The goblin’s hands sink into her chubby body as she reluctantly responds, internally despairing. He doesn’t press her any further, thankfully, but Amberlynn is sure that her master will have more commands for her soon. But right now, as he gets more excited, her anger is distracted as she realises that the enticing smell earlier... had been Iktik.

But he stops groping her, thankfully, and Amberlynn is able to push down the unwanted reaction, as her master reaches up and clips the end of a chain leash to her collar. He didn’t need to reach as far as before.

“Glad ta hear it. Now let’s get back home so’s I can tell you about how Truffles is gonna behave from now on, eh?“

Letting out a plaintive whine, Amberlynn manages to keep herself from openly crying, not wanting to show any weakness before this foul creature. Not that she really thinks it’ll make much difference to her situation—she’s already been turned into this thing. But she’s a noble elf. Her people have surely gone through worse, and come out stronger at the other end. She just needs to endure until her father arrives, and it will all be okay...

Luckily for Amberlynn, ‘Stipplewright’s Slave-smith’ isn’t too far from Iktik’s hovel, so she expected to turn and head there immediately. Looking like this, with nothing covering her ridiculously transformed body, she wants to be out on the street even less than usual—except, almost immediately, she’s thrown off.

“Hang on... oink~... this is the wrong way, isn’t it?“

“Nope! I thought I’d take ya by the scenic route. Show off my new Swine-Elf, eh?“

That’s a concern. Partly because it means being seen looking like this, but also because...

“Can we f-find a... oink~... please, a... oink~ oink~... a privy?“

He chuckles, but doesn’t even look back, continuing to lead her down the street. The collar ensures that she follows him, with both its magic, and because... well, it’s still a metal collar around her neck, and Iktik is at the other end of the chain. An implicit order to follow, and not try to escape.

And besides, she doesn’t exactly want to run off on her own, looking like this, even to find a bathroom. Because people seem to be looking at her. A lot. Before, when she was led through the streets as a naked elf, she got a fair amount of attention—although most of it was simply curious about why an elf was owned by a goblin. While it was good that people weren’t ogling her body... Amberlynn had expected to get the same appreciation as she used to get in the Golden Forest.

But as a chubby, big-breasted Swine-Elf, she gets far more attention, and Iktik doesn’t seem interested in deterring any of it. Quite the opposite, in fact, as a small crowd starts to gather. A handful of humans, an orcish trader, and even a couple more goblins, who look at her with especially interested eyes.

“Yeah, tha’s right! I went an’ got meself a Swine-Elf! Go on Truffles, oink for the nice people!“

Leaning her body forward a bit, tits swaying with every movement, Amberlynn exhales, emptying her lungs—and tries to hold it. She really does, and for a moment she thinks resistance might be possible. Except, a moment later, one of the humans steps forward and gives her expansive buttocks a smack.

“Oink~ oink~ OIIIIINK~!“

Her body jiggles with every full-throated, powerful oink, and the people gathered around all laugh at her. At her, Lady Amberlynn of House Oriand, reduced to a public laughingstock! But she hasn’t lost hope yet—not by a long shot. So long as she stays strong, her father can buy her contract out, restore her to normal, and all of this will be like a bad dream.

“An’ that ain’t all she does, either. Truffles, you need to piss, yeah? Well go on den. Right ’ere, while yer standin’ up.”

A degrading, humiliating nightmare of a dream. Spreading her paunchy legs, and tilting her hips forwards, Amberlynn tries to resist this order as well—but it’s even harder than last time. She’d already urinated in public before, albeit without quite as large an audience, and she really does need to go.

So, softly snuffling and involuntarily snorting, she’s forced to empty her bladder. A thin stream of pale-yellow liquid splashes down onto the ground, and the onlookers jeer as she tinkles in the street. Like an animal.

“Oink~... can we g... oink~... go h-home now?“

Thankfully, the rest of her journey isn’t quite so eventful. No bandits or bounty hunters jump out at her, nobody is even close to recognising her, and she’s faced with the distressing reality that becoming a Swine-Elf really is a good disguise...

Stumbling back into the cabin, and sighing in relief when Iktik closes and locks the door behind them, Amberlynn is happy to be out of the public eye. Even if it does mean being alone with Iktik, looking like his ideal partner.

“What... oink~... was all th-that... oink~... about?“

Amberlynn is also discovering that her voice is harder to control when she’s worked up, and more oinks find their way into her speech. If she got too worked up, she worries that she might find it hard to speak at all.

Reaching up to unclip her chain leash, Iktik tosses it to one side—then sinks his hands into her chest. Despite their almost comic engorgement, there seems to be an even greater nerve concentration, especially in her dark, puffy nipples. As the goblin squeezes around her wide areolas, she starts to feel something inside her breast, as if it’s on the verge of being forced out...

But then he stops, before anything happens. Stepping back a little, his hands run over the rest of her body. Amberlynn is starting to focus on something else, though, as her nose snuffles at the air, taking in the increasing concentration of goblin musk.

“You like that, huh? I’ve heard that Swine-Elves ’ave a particularly acute sense o’ smell.“

She’d been smelling him since leaving the bath, but she gets a much stronger reaction in the enclosed cabin, and especially when his cock starts to emerge from his sheath. Her puffy mound of a pussy starts to tingle again, with a very much unwanted reaction, as Amberlynn looks down, trying to breathe through her mouth.

“Nngh... n-no... oink~... I d-don’t... oink~... want... oink-oink~...“

Using a single bony finger, Iktik then peels back the wrinkled folds of his sheath a little, letting out another whiff of the strong, pungent aroma hiding there—something which Amberlynn knows is disgusting. Except for some reason, she finds herself drawing in a big sniff...

“Nnngha-oink~!”

The goblin’s pungent musk hits her like a sledgehammer, and she drops to her knees with a muffled thud. Why did she breathe in so deeply? Even now, as her head slowly gets closer to Iktik’s crotch, she can’t stop her wide piggy snout from drawing in as much of the tainted air as possible, each time causing a powerful throbbing between her thighs—and a loud, humiliating oink to go with it.

This must be the imprinting that the gnome mentioned. A way to calibrate her heightened olfactory senses, such that Iktik’s genitals trigger a powerful wave of arousal. Before she knows it, Amberlynn is on hands and knees, her mouth drooling and her eyes rolling back as she moves in closer. One hand lifts the cock closer to her nose, and the other squeezes a much-enlarged nipple, before-

“Ah, ah, ahhh, Truffles. We gotta get you to work, eh?“

Hooking his fingers into her wide nostrils, he pulls her away from his cock. That blocks her sense of smell at the same time, which snaps Amberlynn from the trance. Now more lucid, she realises that was a purely physical reaction, although it was surely magic that implanted it. Resolving to be more careful in future, she steps away and looks down at herself.

However gross she now thinks she is, Iktik certainly seems to love her new appearance. Beauty is relative, after all, even if Amberlynn doesn’t understand this attraction. An attraction which, based on how people looked at her in the street, a lot of Kanzibar shares.

“Now, let’s get you dressed, eh? I’ll go over how Truffles is gonna behave, an’ then we’ll get you to your shift at the tavern...“

Iktik’s instructions on how to act like Truffles are brief, much like the new outfit he chose for her. In addition to his earlier commands, keeping her from escaping, or attacking anybody with magic, he has a few choice words.

“You’re gonna act like a dumb, happy, Swine-Elf. Use yer own judgment for that. An’ yer cunt’s off-limits, o’ course.”

He didn’t mention anything about her other holes. Amberlynn didn’t want to ask and make things any worse than they already are. Because he’s twisting her own mind against her, now. Instead of telling her how a Swine-Elf should act, he’s ordered her to act how she thinks a Swine-Elf should act. A ‘dumb, happy’ one, at that.

“Oh, before I forget! I’ve got a couple other things for you ta keep in mind...”

Sat in the Shackled Swan, the good knight Puck is worried about Lady Amberlynn. It’s now been five full days since he last saw her—and Iktik doesn’t have her in his hovel. While there are rumours that the goblin sold her, Puck doesn’t believe them.

The day after his... reward... he didn’t see Amberlynn walking to or from the tavern. Which pleased him at first, because it meant that she wasn’t working that demeaning job, or risking herself getting captured. Assuming that Iktik was changing her hair, or perhaps finding her work somewhere else, Puck didn’t worry too much.

But then two days after that, he finally got a response from Lord Rustermere Oriand, Amberlynn’s father. He made it clear that he would personally be visiting Kanzibar to retrieve his daughter... just as soon as he gathered the gold needed to free her. Hastening to Iktik’s abode, he found that-

“You okay there, dear? Anything I can get you?”

Startled from his worried reverie, Sir Puck looks up at a dark-skinned human woman, Akaza, he thinks her name is, swollen with child. Far more so than an elven pregnancy would be, something which takes a full year, and barely looks larger than three months of a human one. Noticing where his eyes move to, the woman brushes a hand over her belly with a wry chuckle.

“Heh, sorry lad. I’d offer some companionship, but well... maybe once this one’s done, eh? There’s a betting pool running if you want to guess what the babe’s going to be, though. Lowest odds are for an orc, but if you ask me, the smart money’s on a litter of wolven pups...”

Puck pales a little at that thought, imagining the young of a completely different race growing inside the woman—and for a moment, his mind wanders to Iktik and Lady Amberlynn. But female elves are only meant to be compatible with males of their kind, so he’s sure that he has nothing to worry about.

“Um, n-no, sorry. Just a cider would be fine, miss.”

She nods understandingly, and is about to walk off again when Sir Puck raises a hand and calls out.

“Oh! Um, do you know where... uh, there was an elf working here. Amberlynn?”

Immediately, the look on Akaza’s face sharpens, and she looks around furtively. Once she’s sure that nobody is looking, she leans in close to one of Puck’s tapered ears.

“She doesn’t work here anymore, Sir Puck. But you wait right there, okay? You’ll see what I mean.“

Surprised that she knows his name, Puck just nods in response, not entirely sure how to handle that. But Akaza still fetches his drink, leaving him to sit there and worry about what’s to come. Daylight streams in through the windows behind him, but it does nothing to lighten the lump of worry that refuses to budge from his mind.

“OINK~! Hello, mister Puck!

His brooding is interrupted by the approach of another server, which Puck isn’t really in the mood for. But he’s not one to be rude to strangers, especially when they know his name, so he looks up with a strained smile—only to freeze when he sees who’s in front of him.

“Ah, s-sorry... miss... who are you? Do I... do I know you?“

A short, chubby girl is standing with her arms held up at her sides, and a smile on her face, wearing a tiny, stretchy bikini over her excessively curvaceous body. The cups of her top aren’t enough to cover her nipples, let alone the pale, soft skin of her breasts, and the bikini bottom is transparent enough that neither her puffy pussy nor the ‘GOBLIN OWNED’ tattoo are obscured in the slightest.

She seems to struggle with the question for a moment, a look of sadness passing over her face, with its plush lips and snout-like nose. On her chest is a scrawled message, spelling out—‘ask about my speshal’.

“N-no, I’m just a... oink~... just a—“

The collar around the girl’s throat pulses blue for just a second, as her speech falters, but then her smile brightens up all the way again as she finishes her sentence.

“I’m Truffles! Oink~! Just a stupid, slutty Swine-Elf! Oink oink~!“

A Swine-Elf?! He didn’t think they were real. There were always stories in the barracks, of pure elven maidens corrupted by savage goblin tribes, but the officers always denied any such rumours. This creature definitely seems to fit the description, though.

Behind her, Sir Puck can make out a hulking orc with his eyes on her rear, and he feels like he shouldn’t get involved. But something about that name, Truffles, rings a bell. Looking into her eyes, he almost feels like he recognises her...

And then he starts to get a sinking feeling, as he wonders just how far Iktik would’ve gone to disguise Amberlynn. Standing up, he leans over the table towards her.

“Is that... m’lady, is that... is that you?”

Truffles tilts her head to one side, her brunette pigtails going with her, brushing against green-tipped ears. She doesn’t answer, and her body language seems ignorant of the question—except for a single finger, jerkily moving the tiniest amount, pointing at the message on her chest.

Sir Puck takes a moment, meeting her eyes, which seem more and more familiar with every moment, before opening his mouth to ask.

“So, T-Truffles... what’s your—”

“Oi, piggy! What’s yer special, eh?”

Barging into the conversation, the orc from earlier steps up beside Truffles, planting a hand on her butt possessively. Sir Puck’s hand goes to the pommel of his sword, only to remember that he left it at the entrance to the tavern—and he’s stayed by a glance from the Swine-Elf anyway. She draws a deep breath, her brow knitting in concern, before the collar glows again, even stronger than last time.

“Oh, um! It’s... oink~... the first person to ask... oink~... gets to fuck me in the butt!“

Now completely convinced of her true identity, Puck’s first reaction is disappointment that he didn’t manage to ask first. His second is guilt, regarding the disappointment, and coming in third is dismay—at what happened to this beautiful, noble elf, and what’s obviously about to happen to her.

But, even armed, he’s not sure he could take this hulking brute in a fight. Certainly not without getting injured or getting thrown from the tavern. So, he just has to grit his teeth as the orc forcibly bends Truffles over a table, pressing her heaving bosom against the worn wood, then loosens his loincloth to reveal a cock the size of the knight’s forearm.

“Oink~! What are ya waiting for, Grokfang! Oink~! Pork this piggy!“

From the Swine-Elf’s new position, he can even see a pink, curly pig’s tail, with a little hole cut out of her bikini bottoms for it. Her collar is glowing continuously now, and Puck is sure that he can see Amberlynn behind her eyes, but... ‘Truffles’ is most definitely in control at the moment.

Especially so once Grokfang thrusts deep inside of her newly pliable anus, forcing a long, loud oink from her snout. Looking up at Sir Puck with a smug smile, the orc gestures to a stool, while slowly sliding his monstrous shaft inside the esteemed Lady Amberlynn of House Oriand. The lady that Sir Puck was meant to protect.

“Yer welcome to stay an’ watch, knife-ear. She’s jus’ a dumb Swine-Elf though, so I dunno why one’a you lot would wanna...“

Truffles oinks again when she hears that, and it sounds a little sadder than before. Meeting the knight’s eyes again, she manages to tilt her head towards the exit, before Grokfang distracts her again with an openhanded spank on her rear.

“Ain’t that right, Truffles? Speak up, an’ tell us what you are!”

Starting to fuck her butt in earnest, Sir Puck gives her a nod before turning away from the spectacle. He makes for the exit hot, angry tears stinging his eyes, which he doesn’t want Lady Amberlynn to see. He can’t plug his ears though, and the wet sounds of their copulation follow after him, punctuated by more slaps, and plenty of oinking.

“OINK~! A... a sow-slut! Oink oink~! I’m a jiggly-piggly prick-sleeve! Oiiiiink~!“

Despite all signs to the contrary, Lady Amberlynn was not enjoying herself. Acting like that in front of a tavern full of customers, in front of Sir Puck, was humiliating enough. But having her ‘speshal’ taken by Grokfang, the fat orc whose balls she’d cleaned on her second day, was even worse. After Iktik had drawn it on her, and told her how to treat the first person to ask, she’d hoped that... well. It’s irrelevant now. At least Sir Puck seemed to understand her message.

“Ahn! OINK~... Ahh! OINK~... Oooh! OINK~...”

Every thrust forward is punctuated by a passionate gasp of obviously reluctant pleasure, while the slow, wet withdrawals are accompanied by an oinking inhale. Each slam sends another wave of pleasure through her body, but...

For some unknown, frustrating reason, no matter how much Grokfang fills her flexible little arsehole, she just. Can’t. CUM.

Her arousal presses against an invisible barrier, stopping her from plunging over the precipice into an orgasm which she craves much more than she knows she should. The orc’s cock presses all the wrong (or very right) buttons inside of her, and his hands paw at her sensitive chest, but it’s still not enough. That dissatisfaction continues until Grokfang finally reaches his limit, and floods her bowels with hot, gelatinous orcish jizz.

“Nngh~! Tha’s... damn, tha’s good. I’ll ’ave to see you more often, eh?“

Truffles only oinks softly in response.

About ten minutes later, after she’d mostly composed himself, Truff- no, Lady Amberlynn exits the tavern. The ink had been wiped from her chest, but her body is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and something thicker is dripping out of her abused anus, not impeded by her bikini in the slightest. But even where the orcish cum isn’t contacting, the fabric pressed against her pussy is drenched.

Looking around, she thankfully spots Sir Puck leaning against a wall, waiting for her. His eyes are a little red, as if he’d been crying, but he stands tall and strong for his lady. Looking around, to check that nobody is eavesdropping, he approaches with a hopeful expression—which is borne out when she speaks (relatively) normally.

“Um... g-greetings, Sir Puck. Iktik said that I could... oink~... act like myself when it’s just us. That greasy goblin bastard...“

Seeing that Lady Amberlynn’s mind is still present, and apparently as spirited as ever, Sir Puck sighs in relief. Tentatively offering her his arm, he tries not to look at her lewd new body, or think about what just happened.

“Ah, well that’s something at least, m’lady. Now... I should probably escort you back to his abode. I’d rather not share my news where we are likely to be overheard.”

Lady Amberlynn brightens up a little at the prospect of news, as she knows that it’s past due for a response from her father. Allowing herself to be led into the street proper, she tries to brace herself before the collar forces her to slip back into the persona of Truffles.

Thankfully, Amberlynn judged that Truffles would be a good, obedient Swine-Elf for the walk back, even if she oinked a bit more than she would’ve liked. And also forced Sir Puck to buy her a pastry. But holding her knight’s hand was enough to keep people away from them both, as his other hand sat on the pommel of his sword, and the two of them soon found their way back to Iktik’s shack. Knocking on the door, the knight calls out loudly, for the benefit of anybody that followed them.

“Goblin! Open up, I’ve got... your new Swine-Elf...“

Entering as soon as the door opens, Puck tries to ignore the smell that wafts out, of dank, sweaty goblin. He also tries to ignore Amberlynn’s breathy reaction to it, and focuses instead on the diminutive greenskin. The elven knight is angry again, of course, but Iktik holds up a hand to stop him before he’s even started.

“Look, before ya say anythin’, the gnome that did it said it were reversible. Okay?”

Sir Puck opens his mouth, pauses for a moment, then closes it to think. While this indignity is completely unbefitting a noblewoman... so is being a slave. To a goblin, no less. And so long as Iktik isn’t lying, this should still work to protect her. So he grits his teeth, and focuses on what he can help with, now that they can talk with some privacy.

“O... okay. Ugh. But anyway, m’lady, I have finally received a response from your father.“

At that most welcome news, Lady Amberlynn gasps in excitement—even if it comes out as more of an oink, albeit a particularly joyful sounding one. Clapping her hands together, which sets her curves in motion, she looks up at Puck with a hopeful expression.

“Oink~! Truly? That is... oink~... that is good news! Please, Sir Puck, tell me what he said!“

Starting to calm down a little, partly out of necessity, he tries to sink into his training. He’s relaying a message to a superior, that’s all. Despite that, he still can’t help but notice Iktik approaching Lady Amberlynn and almost casually squeezing one of her breasts, even as his ugly goblin cock starts to emerge

“He is gathering funds as we speak, and will set off to Kanzibar shortly. I trust that...”

A breathy exhale interrupts him, as Iktik has just pushed the bikini cup to one side, and wrapped his lips around Amberlynn’s engorged nipple. That would have been bad enough—if her breast didn’t start to, very faintly, glow.

“S-Sir Puck... oink~... please ignore h-him. And... oink~... c-call me Truffles? W-we still need to be... oink~... careful.“

That last request galls her, but Lady Amberlynn knows that she has to act like it is her name, both because it’s an order, and for her safety. As well, she’s resolutely trying to ignore the goblin as he starts to suck at her teat, despite the growing genital stench, although she doesn’t think much of it until her chest starts to tingle.

“Y-yes, of course, ah... Truffles. I trust that he will be here as... as quickly as he can, so save you from... from this. Is there anything else that I can—“

“Oiiink~?!”

A startled snort interrupts him for the second time, as Amberlynn feels a sudden feeling of relief, when the goblin actually succeeds in sucking something from her. She’s giving milk. But more than that, she can actually feel her mana reserves draining, through her breast and into... into the goblin.

He doesn’t take too much, thankfully, although she can tell that there’s still plenty of both milk and mana left in her. Pulling away from her chest, Iktik looks up at Sir Puck with a smug grin, as if to rub the degradation in his face.

“Ahhhh... there ain’t nothin’ like fresh elf milk. Anyway, you can run along, elf boy. If ya need anythin’, you can see Truffles at the tavern.“

Obviously, Sir Puck still doesn’t want to leave Lady Amberlynn alone with this foul creature—but he remembers the threats from last time. So, instead of fighting, he just stiffly nods his head, and marches out of the cabin. Once he’s gone, Amberlynn shivers and gasps, as she stops trying to suppress her body’s new reactions.

“W-what... oink~... what was th-that about? My... milk...? And... oink~... earlier in the tavern, I couldn’t... oink~... well, um... oink-oink~... y’know...“

Iktik obviously does know what she’s talking about, but he takes a swig from her other breast before answering, which glows in a similar manner as more mana is drained.

“Hmm? You couldn’ cum, eh? I’ve heard that happens sometimes, wi’ Swine-Elves. An’ I’ll be honest, I got no idea why yer tits are glowin’. Damn good milk, though.“

Elves, as a species, had generally evolved smaller breasts than most other ‘elvenoid’ races. As a strongly magical people, who gave birth infrequently, they adapted by producing milk of extremely high quality, with some small amount of the mother’s mana.

For the amount that a baby elf would consume, that would be negligible. But with Amberlynn’s newly engorged breasts, it’s a much more noticeable drain—which Iktik doesn’t seem to care about, although he’s more than happy to partake of her delicious milk.

“Anyway, I’ve had it wi’ just jerkin’ off the last few days. How’s about you put them new jugs o’ yours to good use?”

To that order, Amberlynn doesn’t even put up a fight. She’s already been forcefully butt-fucked by an orc today, and something which doesn’t include any of her orifices sounds much more appealing—especially if Iktik’s staying away from her still-pure womb.

So, as she kneels down in front of the goblin, who has perched on his armchair by the empty hearth, the collar hardly even needs to force her. Settling in as she starts to press her new cleavage around his knobbly prick, he addresses an earlier question.

“Back to your fun in the tavern, I’m thinkin’ it’s to do wi’ how goblin jizz affects you. It’s likely that ya can’t cum wi’out it anymore, whether it’s inside ya, or even just smellin’ it.“

That last emphasis was placed as he pushes his hips forwards, sliding his slick shaft between Amberlynn’s—until the leaking tip is right up close to her sensitive, porcine snout. With a surprised oink, her eyes flutter, and her mouth starts to open... before Iktik’s shaft retreats again. He chuckles at the response, and reaches forward to stroke her cheek.

“Heh... yup! Jus’ like I thought. From now on, seems like yer only gonna be satisfied wi’ goblin dick. I’ve ’eard it can be a bit like an addiction...“

Iktik stays quiet after that ominous comment, just enjoying the softness of her bosom. For her part, Amberlynn starts to speed up a little, not ready to process that unwelcome possibility. Quite reluctantly, she’s spending more of each thrust with his cock closer to her snout, although she can’t seem to stop herself. Confidently assuming it to be the collar forcing her, even though she hadn’t been given an order, Amberlynn goes with it.

“Oink~... ew... oink~... y-you stupid... oink~... goblin...“

She keeps on going with it, her arousal building ever higher, as she grasps her sensitive boobs, and inhales more of the mind-clouding musk. Iktik just smiles down at her, certainly enjoying the titjob, but much more interested to watch the first cracks form in Amberlynn’s resistance.

Soon enough, the goblin finally reaches his peak—and like he both hoped and expected, he doesn’t cover his slave’s face or chest. Instead, she tilts her head down, and wraps her plump, pink, Swine-Elf lips around the protruding centre of his flare. Spurt after spurt of hot, cloying, goblin jizz fills her mouth, smothering her tongue in its rich, pungent taste.

And aside from a few which seep from her nose, she eagerly swallows every chunky glob of the detested gunk. At the same time, her eyes roll back in a humiliating full-body orgasm, as Amberlynn’s mind is overwhelmed—and her collar stays completely dim.

If she’d been more focused on the corrupting goblin magic that was flowing down her throat, instead of the aphrodisiacal goblin jizz that carried it, Amberlynn might have noticed a subtle change. Because for some reason, compared to the last two times she’d consumed Iktik’s seed... the ejaculation held quite a bit more mana.