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Aikaal pivots backward as a massive green tentacle slams downward into the space she was occupying mere moments ago, sending a shower of dirt and dead leaves into the air. She cringes with disdain at the feeling of the evasive movement - her practiced balance, her center of gravity… everything about fighting, about living was off since her encounter with the cruel Garlean scientist Aulus Asina. Her body, once slim and slender, was transformed into something more compact, curvier, the midpoint between a Lalafell and the ‘typical’ Miqo’te. She hated how it impacted every moment of her life now, from the comfort of her own skin to the gazes of passersby as her thick hips and inflated bust jiggled and jostled with every step. A “shortstack”, someone had called her, as if she should take it as a compliment. She had left them with most of their eyebrows singed off.
Still, life goes on, and the life of an Eorzean adventurer is an active one. So here she finds herself, in some forsaken wood, battling a vicious plant creature known as a Malboro, more teeth and tentacles than anything else, and cursing how she felt in her new form. The creature roars as it misses, noxious fumes spreading like a dark cloud from its cavernous maw. Aikaal sends a volley of fireballs its way, incinerating the harsh toxins before they can reach her and scoring a critical hit against the beast’s soft insides. The enraged Malboro charges, belching smoke as its tentacles beat a terrible tattoo against the earth as they seek her out. The Black Mage makes to dodge again, twirling away, only for the upper body to swing out of balance as her heavy chest carries through the momentum of the movement.
One of the creature’s verdant appendages catches her across the upper body, crushing her bust into her torso before sending her flying across the clearing. Aikaal rolls to her feet, casting the detritus of the forest floor off of her. A quick mental check doesn’t detect any damage from the blow or her ensuing tumble - just a raw soreness in her tits where she took the monster’s tentacle square on. The dull pain invokes distant memories, a litany of abuse suffered by her breasts and nipples at the hands of rowdy creatures and cruel enemies alike. The recollection makes her wet, and her arousal makes her frustrated. She doesn’t have time to unpack the pavlovian responses forcibly written into her flesh - she just has to fight. Luckily, Asina’s experiments on her body made it resistant to sustaining any serious damage… even if the mad scientist’s intention was to make her as durable a fucktoy as possible. Silver linings.
Aikaal screams an incantation, summoning a twisting breeze filled with dancing sparks to pick up dead wood and dried leaves before igniting into a veritable firestorm. She sends the inferno toward the Malboro with both hands, imprisoning the toxic creature in the heart of her swirling hellfire. With a grunt, the Miqo’te mage clenches her fist, forcing the superheated air and plasma down to a single point centered within the beast’s heart. The Malboro releases a hideous cry as it burns within and without, spewing gouts of toxic smoke as its charred body falls to the blackened ground. Aikaal sighs, barely satisfied to see her work done, and waits for the smoke to clear before claiming a trophy from her defeated foe and giving its burnt rubber exterior a kick for good measure.
Quest complete.
Aikaal returns to her home in Goblet, having turned in her quest and the proof of its completion in return for a hefty sum of gil. There is little sense of pride or accomplishment for her, and the money doesn’t mean much to a well-established hero. She approaches her bed, barely managing to undress first before flopping onto the mattress with a sigh. Thoughts well up as she squeezes shut her eyes in an attempt to force herself asleep. Thoughts of past battles, standing proud in her original body. Thoughts of past defeats, of her capture by Aulus Asina as he ripped away her form and reduced her to a receptacle for abuse. Intrusive memories of her treatment since her return to the mainland, the stares she’s suffered, the groping, the assaults, and…
Zenos yae Galvus tugs sharply on Aikaal’s leash, causing the naked woman to stumble in the darkness. She holds her tongue, knowing better than to antagonize the harsh Legatus without a plan. She will bide her time and see where he is taking her before making her move. “Move, worm!”, Zenos growls, yanking her forward with much greater force than before. She can feel her cock, modified from her clitoris by Asina’s mutagenic concoctions, strain against the heavy metal ring clamped around its base. The metal’s edge bites into her turgid flesh with every step as her phallus swings free between her legs, the sharp pain keeping her erection subdued for the time being.
Aikaal is led down a cold corridor of concrete and echoing metal, near pitch black but for the bright outline shining through a large set of doors at the far end. Zeno’s military boots click with every step, while her bare, shivering feet slap against the cool floor. As they approach the far end of the corridor, Aikaal tunes in to more than just the rhythm of their footsteps underpinned by her beating heart: she can hear a low susurrus, a rolling rumble of sound in the distance, heralding a wave of activity just beyond those heavy doors. Her heart sinks. “No, you can’t!”, she cries, pulling the leash taut with her neck. Zenos chuckles, not giving an inch of ground to the Black Mage before shoving the portal open with a thrust palm and throwing Aikaal through into the light.
Blinding white resolves into a sea of faces, thousands of Garleans dressed from all walks of life spread out before her to fill an entire stadium. Magitek spotlights burn bright, following her nude stumble onto the stage. Aikaal is disoriented by the roar of sound, jeering voices hurling every insult that an Eorzean slut like her deserves. There is nowhere to hide, nowhere to run as heavily-armored imperial soldiers guard the wings of the stage. Zenos strides forth, and the jeers turn to cheers as he works the crowd with raised arms. “See here, loyal children of Garlemald! See this pathetic witch, the enemy’s supposed ‘finest’, shameless before you!” The Legatus drags her to the center of the stage with a clenched fist, where a pair of guards secure her bound wrists to an anchor above her head.
“She is a worthless creature, craving nothing more than debasement before her superiors. See how she reacts to your gaze, my people!” The metallic song of his sword cuts through the cacophony of the crowd as Zenos draws the slender blade. Aikaal attempts to recoil from the cold steel, but she is trapped. Trapped as the Legatus runs the blunt backside of the blade beneath her semi-erect cock, the cold metal sending a shiver up her spine as he lifts the phallus for all to see. The Miqo’te mage squirms, tears in her eyes as her cheeks burn with shame. All eyes are on her altered body, stunned gasps traveling through the crowd in a wave as they realize she is more than just a woman. She feels her womanhood twitch, its shaft beginning to swell further beneath the Garleans’ withering gazes. In but a moment, Aikaal’s cock stands proud and erect at full mast as the crowd’s derisive boos drown out Zenos’s amused chuckle.
“This brave Eorzean warrior has promised to put on a show for you all tonight, my people, to show you the true value of her people.” Zeno punctuates his announcement with a swift slap across Aikaal’s tits from his gauntleted hand. She cries out, her cock twitching further as it begins to drool thick, aether-laced precum. “One of my honor guard shall assist.” On command, one of the armored soldiers steps forward, undoing the buckles of his codpiece. Discarding the metal cup, he reveals a large erection, veiny inches springing forth to throb eagerly against Aikaal’s quivering backside. She gives a small jump to feel his fat, hot meat rest heavy on the curve of her ass, pushing her weak tail futily against the soldier’s armored chest.
“I hope you enjoy being watched, whore,” Zenos growls in her ear, dragging out the venom in his voice to a low chuckle as he steps away. “Hah, who am I kidding? Of course you do.” He flicks his wrist, pinning Aikaal’s cock to her stomach with the cold flat of his blade and causing her to wince as her precum wets the steel. Behind her, she can feel the guard maneuver his swollen erection to her back door, pressing the fat head into her clenched asshole. She draws a breath to beg for mercy, only to have the air forced from her lungs in a cry of pain as he roughly drives himself into her ass, demolishing her resistance with ease as every veiny inch plows into her twisting guts and makes a home at the seat of her stomach.
The noise from the crowd drowns as Aikaal’s cries as the honor guard begins to thrust at her backside, pinning her shameful cock between Zenos’s blade and her own distending tummy each time he enters her. The Legatus cackles, smacking her tits with his heavy gloved hand as she writhes in her restraints, unable to escape the abuse raining down on her from in front and gaping her open from behind. Her cock is throbbing painfully now, flushed with blood as her aetheric precum runs freely down her shaft and legs in sleek, shining rivers. Zenos pinches her nipple between his sharp-edged fingers, dragging it across her chest to gather its twin before giving her breasts a cruel tug, pulling her oversized tits away from her compact little body in an obscene display.
The painful stimulation only drives her confused nervous system onward, pleasure mounting in her body with every stabbing pain in her backside and every growing bruise left upon her breasts. The crowd is whipped into a fervor, cheering for her debasement as her legs give out, sinking her ass even lower into the seat of the guardsman violating her from behind. “Do you hear the will of the people, you pathetic slut? They wish to see you unmasked, for your shame to be laid bare. You will give my people what they want, and cum.” Zenos punctuates his taunt with a sharp smack of his blade across her womanhood, the flat of the steel slapping like a cracked whip against her turgid cock. Aikaal’s vision explodes into white as her modified clitoris receives the blow, and her body obeys the Legatus’s command.
Her hips convulse around the shaft buried up her ass as she ejaculates, a chorus of boos from the crowd growing louder and louder with each rope of enhanced seed she spurts across the stage. Her tight little asshole clenches hard around the base of the honor guard’s cock, and he erupts to fill her insides with his hot Garlean cum as she continues to spill her own until there is nothing left. The guard withdraws his cock with a pop, letting his creampie run from her gaping hole in great gobs to mix on the ground with her own pooling seed.
She falls limp and silent in her restraints, still but for the twitching of her spent cock and the slight rise and fall of her strained breathing. The crowd applauds, drinking in the sight of her, a sweaty mess of utter defeat strung up before them. Zeno steps up, heavy sabatons splashing in the puddle of cum thickening underfoot. “Drink it,” he commands, and undoes the restraints holding her wrists aloft. Aikaal collapses to a heap in her own rapidly cooling cum, its pungent smell penetrating her half-submerged nose. The roar of the crowd fades back to white noise, a fuzz surrounding her perception as the world fades away from her.
She parts her lips and laps her tongue dutifully across the gritty, sticky floor of the stage…
Aikaal awakens in a cold sweat, the bitter taste of cum on her lips. Her room is dark but for the faint moonlight trickling through the window. Her sheets, she perceives from the cool breeze caressing her skin, have been kicked off the bed at some point in the night. More importantly, long ropes of semen trace a wet path up her belly, over the curve of her breasts, and across her face. “Just a dream…”, she mutters, shifting her spent cock aside with one hand, feeling a faint aftershock of pleasure as she touches the sensitive organ.
She shakes her head to clear the lingering images of Zenos yae Galvus from her mind and swings her legs over the edge of the bed to go and find a towel to wipe herself off with. As is usual these days, she misjudges the length of her shortened legs and stumbles during the dismount. As is unusual these days, she has a purpose in mind come morning.
“I know what I need to do.”
The coming day brings Aikaal out into the black shroud of the Twelveswood, that great and ancient forest guarding the sanctuary city of Gridania. The connection to the aether is strong within the wood, the very earth and air itself pulsing with the lifebeat of magic. It is here that Aikaal will attempt to contact the mighty Primals themselves, beings born from the aether itself as filtered and focused through the lens of a mortal mind. While known for their terrible effects when loosed foolishly upon the world, Aikaal is certain that she can contain their influence long enough to reassert her connection with her magic, her purpose. The Primals will set her on the right path, she tells herself.
To an observer, the ritual of summoning would almost seem simple. Aikaal stands in the center of a hallowed grove, deep in the heart of the Twelveswood, her eyes closed and breathing steady. Her staff traces arcane symbols through the air in graceful arcs which belie the fierce effort of will exerted within her soul as she seeks out the essence of the Primals within the coruscating aether, that she may bring them and bind them to the physical world. Suddenly, she smirks. She’s found them, Phoenix and Bahamut both, two incredibly powerful spirits who must surely have great wisdom to impart upon her. She opens her eyes with a shout, slamming her staff to the ground as the aether coalesces around her in a swirl of heat and color, light and dark, collecting to two points before her: one of dancing flames, and one of umbral shadow.
A pause, a beat of silence, and then the seeds of magic burst with a blinding flash, sending Aikaal backward onto her plush ass. She casts her gaze upward, confusion furrowing her brow as she beholds the Primals before her - brilliant and burning, but not the forms she would expect. Bahamut still bears the draconic head and face of a dreadwyrm, and Phoenix the hooked beak and fiery feathers of a divine avian, but both are a mere eight feet tall, bipedal like a Hyur, and… sporting monstrous cocks, thick shafts as wide around as her ankle swinging down to their knees.
“Wh-what’s going on?”, Aikaal stammers, wide eyes fixated on the Primals’ dicks as they stride toward her. We know why you called us here, a voice echoes in her mind, its words growling, cutting, an obsidian rockslide assaulting her perception. “I wish to borrow your power, Lord Bahamut! I want to be free of this weakness that plagues me!” Phoenix approaches, trailing brilliant feathers across her shoulder as it circles behind her. Do not lie to the Primals, mortal. You do not seek to overcome powerlessness. The empyreal bird’s voice is a screech, a roar, the paper-tearing flash of expanding flames. Bahamut stops before her, the two beings flanking her from in front and behind.
Together, they scream a torrent of fire, twisting gouts of orange and blue which envelop her. Aikaal screams as the aetheric blaze consumes her, burning away her clothes but leaving her skin and hair untouched. As the flames subside, she sees Bahamut standing at full erection, his throbbing, beating shaft ridged with scales and long enough to reach from Aikaal’s outstretched fingertips past her elbow. Her stomach sinks and her heart flutters at the sight - she can only assume Phoenix is at equal attention behind her. You were not responsible for what has happened to you before, but that does not mean you didn’t embrace it, the Dreadwyrm states, hooking a clawed hand behind her right thigh and lifting her leg into the air with zero effort.
Know that this time, it was your choice, chimes Phoenix, assisting their fellow Primal by cupping her wide ass and in his talons and raising her up between them. The petrified Miqo’te, sandwiched between these living embodiments of magic, can only give a nervous gulp as her hips are balanced atop their potent members, each surging with enough power to support her full weight if necessary. Bahamut’s fat draconic cock pushes against her tiny pink pussy as it glistens in unconscious anticipation, while Phoenix’s pointed godhood digs into the tight pucker of her hungry asshole.
This is what you wanted, they speak in unison.
“...I accept,” she swears in response, before clenching her teeth in anticipation.
The two Primals slam Aikaal down, driving her onto their divine shafts as she screams with the exertion. Her holes stretch wider and wider, taut around the throbbing ridges of the Primal’s monstrous cocks as inch after inch after inch slides into her. The small Miqo’te’s alchemically modified stomach contorts as it expands around the massive girth of the Primals, her insides coiling around the invading erections as best they can, her reborn flesh serving its new purpose as a living sex toy.
Bahamut flexes himself inside of her, rocking her entire body as his erection pulses deep within. With the Primal’s cocks more than enough to support her weight alone, Bahamut is free to wrap his fat-clawed fingers around Aikaal’s slutty breasts, ample enough in size thanks to Aulus’s machinations that they spill out of even a dragon’s palms. Her cry at feeling as if she was being split in two resolves to desperate, grunting moans as she adjusts to her new place in the heart of a Primal sandwich. Bahamut teases pleasure from Aikaal’s breasts as he kneads and squeezes the Miqo’te’s prodigious mammaries, the tips of his claws raking oh-so-tantalizingly over her quivering skin.
Not wishing to wait for his brother to have all the fun up front, Phoenix brings his taloned hands down on Aikaal’s hips with a loud smack, screeching as he pulls her even lower onto his pulsating avian cock, spreading his wings triumphantly as the straining ring of her asshole squeezes tightly around the base of his mighty primalhood.
And then, he begins to thrust.
Lifting Aikaal up as he draws his hips back, Phoenix withdraws over a foot of thick Primal meat from her gaping asshole, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness that, surprisingly to her, almost feels a little sad… But proves to be cause for little worry as the brightly burning Primal of rebirth shoves his cock forward at the same time his tilts Aikaal’s hips back down toward him. She releases a deep gasp as the impact inside her guts drives the air from her lungs. Alarm bells are ringing across her nervous system, a sense of wrongness pervading her perception as her typical Miqo’te brain attempts to reconcile the atypical resilience of her body against such treatment. The logical part of her mind says she should be dead from taking a Primal so far up the ass, but the data gathered from reality only shows that she feels so good, the sensitive nerves of her back door singing with delight as inches of avian cock slides past them at high speed.
She doesn’t have time to rest and unravel the mixed signals flooding her brain, however, as Bahamut takes little time in responding to his companion’s thrust. The Dreadwyrm pulls out most of the way just as Phoenix slams inside, the ridged scales of his draconic shaft scraping the soft, wet walls of the Miqo’te’s hungry pussy. Poised at her entrance, Bahamut fucks her fully, plowing into her sloppy cunt as he roars at the sky. Aikaal screams again, unable to catch a breath, to process what is happening to her. How did my plan go so wrong, she thinks, examining her life and the choices that led her from Asina’s basement lab to here.
Or is everything going exactly right…
The two Primals wordlessly form a rhythm between them, pounding Aikaal like a piece of meat between them as they alternate their thrusts into her slutty holes, gaping with every powerful slam. The Miqo’te mage is soon beside herself, certain she is cumming with every pistonlike movement into and out of her ass and pussy. She drools freely down her chin, saliva forming a river across her distended tummy until it trickles down to lubricate Bahamut’s shining wet shaft further.
Not even at the hands of Zenos with all his malice and magic nor before Aulus Asina and his tinctures and technology, has Aikaal experienced such a potent and powerful fuck. The two Primals fill her head with their bestial cries, their aetheric essence resonating with her very soul as her lust spurs them further onward, just as their wisdom and might reveals and reinforces to her the very depths of her depravity. It is as if her summoning has created a stable feedback loop, with the Primals feeding her with their energy, their purpose, just as they feast upon her flesh, tasting her in the most raw and frankly primal sense.
The powerful aetheric figures alternate their thrusts, violating Aikaal as she begins to cry for more and more. Pressed between their massive, muscular chests, ground down beneath the heat of the Primals, Aikaal begins to understand the meaning of their words. She had come to the Twelveswood to give up the futile fight for power and control, to accept powerlessness, to revel in it. To find joy is giving, in being taken, just as she is now - just as she has been before. Tears stream down her cheeks, not only of pain and pleasure as she is stretched to her unnatural limit, forced to cum again and again by the Primals. She cries too for joy, finally understanding her place.
Aikaal cries, Bahamut roars, and Phoenix screeches, the three figures cumming in unison in the heart of the ancient wood. Her body feels as if it is being pulled in every direction as the Primals’ monstrous cocks thrust and pulse within her. Great gouts of cum pour from her beleaguered ass and pussy with jetstream force, putting her own aetherically-enhanced ejaculation to shame. Her cries catch in her throat as she gags, feeling a great pressure burbling up from her stomach that can not be held back. Suddenly, gobs of Primal seed for themselves up from her retching mouth and nose, as Phoenix pumps his divine seed into her guts faster than her body can force out. Her stomach swells obscenely, her uterus breached and filling with the Dreadwyrm’s spunk as the overflow mixes with her own squirting orgasm as it sprays to the earth below.
With their powers spent and purpose fulfilled, the Primals begin to dissipate slowly, the aetherial constructs binding them to the physical world unraveling into intangible strands of light before drifting away among the dense leaves of the Twelveswood. “W-wait, where are you going!”, Aikaal cries with desperation, still not satisfied. “Don’t leave me, my Primals! Use me more, I’m yours! Your own personal whore, more loyal than any tempered. Just don’t go!” As is tradition for the divine, they pay little heed to the pleading of mortals. Phoenix and Bahamut depart, disintegrating back into the Aether, leaving Aikaal’s body suddenly unsupported and her holes empty aside from far too much cum.
With another cry, this time of surprise, the bruised and violated Miqo’te falls to the ground with a wet thunk, throwing up a sheet of muddy cum as more fresh seed spurts from her raw, gaping ass and pussy. The impact and the sudden expulsion of semen is simply too much shock for even her enhanced body to handle, the final straw breaking her will to stay conscious after being subjected to such rough, repeated, and thorough penetration. Darkness takes her, merciful sleep as her cum-flecked lips still gasp wordlessly for the Primals to return…
The Twelveswood is an ancient and sacred place, but that does not mean it is a safe one. Dangerous enough for armed adventurers and guarded caravans passing through, for a voluptuous young Miqo’te slut to pass out naked in the center of the forest is to invite trouble, doubly so with the vital scents of sweat and semen so powerfully surrounding her. Her unconscious body is not left undisturbed, as long, leafy tentacles probe at her passive flesh, enticed by the warmth of her, by her nubile fertility. A living vine wraps around her ankles, and Aikaal is dragged away through the undergrowth, deep into some foul creature’s lair…
Being an Ochu’s plaything isn't so bad, Aikaal contemplates days later. Days spent as the breeding whore of the hideous plant monsters, great shuffling pitcher plants crowned in writhing green tentacles. In a past life, she would have abhorred such treatment, would have rebelled with every ounce of her pride. But she was born anew by the Primals, shown her place and the path to happiness. The nest of Ochus barely has to coerce her now, binding her in their rubbery limbs as endless tentacles snake up her holes, penetrating every part of her body in the pursuit of pleasure. Now, after nearly a week at their mercy, she is the one to entice them herself, waking up in their nest only to wriggle her ass into the air, begging for them to stay and feast upon her.
Her mouth, her cunt, her coiling guts and up into her stomach… even her ears and her nose, nothing is off limits to their roiling tendrils. Vegan cum flows into her and back out, an endless cycle of monstrous ejaculation that leaves her fat with their seed, a breeding mare in every way except genetic compatibility. How she wishes she could carry the monsters’ children, raising new clutches of virile Ochu to grow big and strong as they are raised on her milk and milked by her holes. What little rationality remains in her cum-addled skull wonders if such a thing would even be possible. If anyone could do it, surely it would be…
A beam of energy burns through the shaded entrance of the Ochus’ lair, incinerating a swathe of the creatures. A trio of them, currently engaged in suspending Aikaal high in the air with their tentacles twisted through her body, slither their limbs free and let her fall to the floor of the nest as their roar, shaking their mighty fronds in the direction of the threat. Another beam scythes through, lighting the lair like the sun as the Ochus go up in screaming, withering flames.
“Nooo!” Aikaal yells, watching her adoptive harem eliminated before her eyes. “Stop, whoever you are! These creatures have harmed no one, I’m not in danger!” A cruel laugh twinkles darkly through the roar of the inferno, and Aikaal’s blood runs cold in spite of heat beating upon her skin in waves.
“Miss Aikaal! So glad we were able to locate you.” Aulus mal Asina, the man who had performed his unspeakable experiments upon her body and warped her mind into his submissive plaything. The grand Garlean scientist is flanked by two soldiers, each decked in advanced magitek armor and sporting heavy cannons still glowing with destructive energy. He steps closer, avoiding the charred remains of the Ochu as he casually presses his spectacles high up the bridge of his nose.
“Of course, it wasn’t difficult. My equipment has been able to follow your every move since your… modifications. The aether you condense within your body has quite a unique signature. I understand you have been ‘discharging’ quite a bit of it lately, haven’t you?” He glances around the smoking ruin of the nest, curling his nose in disgust. “It is a shame you would waste the gifts I have given you in such an awful place. Genius requires witnesses, you know.” Aikaal is hauled to her feet by the researcher’s guards with little resistance. Aulus Asina is the man who started all of this for her. He could save her… or he could push her further into the depths of depravity. Aikaal shakes her filthy head, unsure of which outcome she’d prefer.
“Speechless, hmm? No matter. I have thought up some new experiments I’d like to use your body to perform. Whether you have much to say or not is of little consequence to the results. Men? Bring her to the transport.” Aulus turns and leaves as Aikaal is dragged out after him. A short distance from the Ochu’s lair lies a large transport ship, magitek engines thrumming as it prepares for takeoff. The bay of the vehicle opens, revealing a dozen more soldiers standing at attention, a cautionary force for one so deep inside enemy territory. “At ease, men,” Aulus commands, and the assembled soldiers relax. With a nod from their leader, Aikaal is thrown into the transport bay, rolling across the cold metal floor and coming to rest in the center of the pack.
“It is a long way back to Garlemald,” Aulus addresses the nude, shivering, filthy mage. Then, he turns his attention to the soldiers, adding. “I need her alive for my experiments, but don’t worry - she’s very difficult to break.” With that, the bay door begins to close, cutting off the light from the Twelveswood as the soldiers begin to close in around her…
“Curious,” Aulus muses to himself as he mounts the cockpit of the transport.
“I could have sworn she was smiling…”