bronze worked into the purple swimsuit's top and bottom, but Fern had nothing but doubts for its ability to deflect a direct blow—assuming an attacker chose to target the minor percentage of her pale skin that was actually covered up.
"Miss Frieren, I don't think this is going to help," Fern said as diplomatically as she could. Was her teacher stupid?
"It'll help, I promise! Just summon your weapons!" Miss Frieren giggled as she swung and imaginary sword.
Keeping a carefully neutral expression, Fern mimicked her swing—and to her surprise, with a flash of purple magic, a sword appeared in her hand. She repeated the motion with her off hand and a buckler sprang into existence, belted to her arm. "That's better," she admitted. "The collar did this?"
"Yup! You probably have the gist of it now, but just for clarity's sake: Identify Magical Item! Cumming!"
"Cumm—?"
Class Change Collar (Cursed)
Enables wearer to class change via trinkets
Provides suitable equipment for new classes
All classes become erotic
Unmastered classes have reduced stats
Cannot be unequipped
Forget all but first two lines of effects
"See?" Miss Frieren panted, not from exhaustion, while leaning on her staff.
"I guess I do." The magic didn't tell her anything she hadn't already surmised for herself: Attaching charms—trinkets, it called them—to her collar allowed her to change class. For the Bikini Warrior, that charm took the form of a small sword pendant. The collar would supply her with equipment—though apparently not much equipment. "Maybe it ran out of magic halfway through?" she wondered. That would make at least a little sense—the class change prioritized giving her a sword and shield, and had run out of energy while generating her armor.
It wasn't a perfect explanation, but she could swallow it.
"Okay, I'm starting to see the upside. Especially if I can combine the warrior's physical power with my magic." She gave a few more experimental swings, growing more confident. The sword should have been heavy but she handled it with the practiced ease of a knight! In a claustrophobic forest shrouded in mist it was definitely to her advantage to be prepared for close quarters combat. "This is an excellent gift, Miss Frieren. Thank you."
No response.
Fern looked up and her master was gone.
"Miss Frieren?" she called. "Miss Frieren!" she shouted.
The mist swirled around her ominously.
***
Frieren hadn't meant to leave Fern all alone in the bewitching woods. It was just: while her student was getting used to her new totally awesome class (the contrast between the parts of her that were armored and the parts of her that weren't was sooooo hot!) Frieren had noticed this super interesting light bobbing through the mist. She was following it before she realized, stepping over grasping roots and ducking under scratchy branches.
She stumbled onto a path and the roots and the branches withdrew. She had no idea what the light was, exactly. But she didn't need exactness to know that the light was beautiful and amazing and she needed to follow it deeper!
And so she did, strutting down a path that wound its way ever deeper into the bewitching woods.
Bimbo Mage Frieren was entranced!
***
"Miss Frieren?" Fern expected to have been attacked already. There was nothing subtle about her as she cut her way through the undergrowth. Her sword quickly proved its worth as she made good progress. Dry wood scratched harmlessly against her gauntlets and boots and Fern found she was actually grateful for the change in outfit. My coat would have been full of tears by now, she reasoned.
When a chill hand of mist caressed her back, Fern reminded herself that she was still vulnerable. "Miss Frieren, why did you have to run off like that?" she grumbled, catching a branch on her shield and pushing past it. Fallen leaves crunched underfoot, the sound echoing flatly through the mist. The feeling she was being watched had grown more intense following Miss Frieren's disappearance, and constant vigilance was beginning to take its toll on Fern's psyche.
Every half-formed shape in the murk was a potential enemy. Every curling arm of mist could conceal a much more solid threat—or worse, draw her attention away from the real encroaching danger. Whatever that might be. Fern held her arms close to her body—ready to lash out with her sword or deflect with her shield as the situation called for it.
But as she wandered deeper into the bewitching woods, the lurking danger refused to manifest. Fern's arms grew tired from constant readiness. The canopy had grown higher—she knew she was headed to the forest's center. The trees were taller now, with thick trunks and dense foliage. The forest was older than she first realized.
Spotting a clearing and a fallen tree that looked like as good a rest stop as she'd get, Fern decided to take a break. "Just for a moment," she said to herself as she evaluated the scarred, lichen-crawled bark of the tree trunk. She didn't enjoy the idea of her bare ass touching the mossy bark, so she unstrapped her buckler and set it down on the trunk, then sat atop it. She stuck her sword in the ground, rested her hands on the pommel, and sighed.
"It's not much of a bewitching forest, is it. 'Foggy woods' might have been a more accurate name. Maybe Miss Frieren was right, and this place really isn't as dangerous as she said before." Still, Fern kept her guard up. Danger loved to approach during rest. She kept her ears pricked and head on a swivel, looking for the watchers she knew were out there.
"I just hope Miss Frieren is safe," Fern said as vines slithered down from the canopy above.
***
"Heyyy! Wait up!" The bobbing light was moving quickly, pulling Frieren along after it. At some point it had become absolutely essential to keep staring at the light, and Frieren nearly sprinted through the woods trying to keep that glowing orb where she could see it.
Frieren only nearly sprinted, as it was unthinkable for her to do anything other than strut with increasing rapidity. She wasn't built for speed—her huge chest threatened to knock her senseless and her huge ass smacked against itself as she almost-ran through the woods.
It was a miracle she hadn't tripped.
"I can't! Run that! Fast!" she panted. Her lungs burned and her hair stuck to her face. As if indulging her, the light slowed, blinking lazily and urging her off of the path into a clearing. Increased proximity to the enchanting light blocked Frieren's awareness of everything else. She moved automatically, one foot in front of the other, arms outstretched as if to cradle the light to her chest.
Instead she embraced the torso of a creature that towered over her. A creature with no head, but a ruff of undulous flesh that wriggled eagerly as it placed the brilliant flashing orb atop its shoulders. With a squelch the creature's ruff latched onto the orb, fastening it in place. The light dimmed.
"Oh," Frieren said dumbly, looking up at the giant creature. It wore the shape of a man—but huge, and broad, with too many muscles where men didn't have muscles, powerful cables flexing and shifting beneath mottled skin. Its forearms were wider around than her waist, and its legs could easily have passed for tree trunks. It was a hulking monstrosity with an impossibly alluring globe in place of a head, and that faceless visage regarded her with alien intelligence.
Bimbo Mage Frieren encountered the Headless Hypnogre!
"Hi," Frieren said weakly, taking great pains to sloooooowly un-hug the monster and step back—only for giant hands to grab her shoulders and hold her still. Color flickered deep within the globe.
***
"That's enough resting. I need to find Miss Frieren so we can. . ." Fern paused. Miss Frieren had never told her what they were doing in the bewitching woods. She sighed again, sighed until her lungs were empty and continued to exhale, forcing every last speck of frustration and stress out of her body. She took an explosive breath in, squared her shoulders, clenched then relaxed her hands. "I will find Miss Frieren," she said resolutely. "I will make her tell me why we came to these woods. I will chastise her for wandering off. Then we will accomplish our mission—whatever it is—and leave." Recentered and reinvigorated, Fern kicked off from the fallen tree, grabbed her sword, and turned to retrieve her buckler.
She allowed herself a snicker at the peach-shaped print her butt had left on its surface. She straightened up, tightening the buckler's straps—and finally realized she was surrounded. Lank vines fell like loose ropes about her, filling the clearing and swinging in a strange, jerky manner that suggested they weren't really plant life at all.
Fern dipped into a low, ready stance. Her blade, an extension of her arm, flicked out and severed one of the vines. It fell to the forest floor with an angry hiss, squirming like a dying worm. Eventually it curled in on itself and fell still. Fern looked about—the fallen tree was dead center of the clearing, and the shortest route back to the relative safety of the undergrowth was thirty feet.
The vines shivered in agitation. Fern adjusted her grip and made sure her shield was strapped on tight.
Bikini Warrior Fern encountered a horde of ???!
***
"Ehe, ehehehe, ehehehehe. Pretty. . ." Frieren wore a giddy smile. The monstrosity bent at an impossible angle—like an upside-down fish hook—and Frieren craned her neck to stare straight up at the pulsing orb it had in place of a head. Frieren was utterly enthralled by the monster's photoluminescence. It began as a pinprick of color, right in the center of the orb. Then it grew, expanding outward to the rim in a bright pink band. Then another pinprick, electric green, expanding outward. Then blue. Then yellow. Then pink. Repeating. Growing.
Frieren stared. Drooled. Let the light wash over her. Brilliant waves reflected on her dull eyes. Growing duller as the light grew brighter. Until all signs of independent thought vanished. Until her irises were flat green disks. Until her pupils dilated to let in more of the brilliant light. Light that poured into her head through her optical nerve.
"Ehehuoh." Frieren's jaw hung slack. Her tongue rolled aimlessly in her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered, then forced themselves wide open in fear of blocking off even a single photon of the beautiful light bearing down on her. She strained onto her tip-toes. She didn't react when something large pressed against her crotch.
***
The floor was littered with dead, curled-up vines, but for every one Fern cut down, more dropped from their hiding place in the high canopy. She checked her progress—a third of the way to the underbrush, where she hoped rather than knew the vines couldn't follow her.
They grew more animate for each of their number Fern sliced through. Any vegetal pretense had been discarded—the vines whipped at her like striking vipers and it was all Fern could to do to fend them off.
"Ah!" But her guard wasn't perfect. She was outnumbered, and while she blocked two hissing vines a third snapped at her from her blind spot and landed a solid hit against Fern—by latching onto her right tit. The vine had a toothless mouth like a leech and the strangeness of its touch was so intensely wrong that Fern immediately grabbed the creature, folded it over on itself in a U, and sliced it like a rushed sailor cutting free from the dock. The monster gave a small wordless scream as it released its bite and Fern was relieved to have it gone—even as two of its peers honored its death by latching onto her left tit, sucking frantically as if desperate to accomplish some goal. Fern chopped them off in a similar manner before suddenly doubling over.
"What?" she gasped. "My breasts. . ! So. . . hot."
Bikini Warrior Fern was poisoned by the Cattle Creepers!
***
"Uoh! Oh! Goh! Guoh!" Frieren's moans were guttural and base, matching her predicament. She had her arms wrapped around her partner's trunk-like chest, embracing it like a lover. Her legs, in a display of debaucherous flexibility, were hiked not around its waist, but over its shoulders. Frieren hadn't known she was that flexible until her hunky partner picked her up and posed her that way. The monster wore her like a protective vest—her huge tits pooled against its chest, bulging around and trapping her thighs. As if she would have been able to move if they didn't.
As if Frieren could do anything other than moan and bounce on the Headless Hypnogre's dick. She had been the one to guide the swollen purple prick to her pussy, pushing her leotard out of the way and using both hands to line the thing up just right so that when the Hypnogre's hips twitched it shot all the way inside her and she fell limp.
That was when it placed her ankles over its shoulders and wrapped her arms around its chest. Frieren loved the extra closeness—the orb was now just inches away and the colors came at the same speed as the Hypnogre's powerful thrusts.
It was like her eyes and her pussy were in perfect sync, each enjoying their own favorite treat: light and cock.
"Guh! Hoh! Uhu! Oho!" The lights grew more intense and the cock tensed and Frieren knew what was coming and welcomed it with open legs and an open mind. "Cum!" she gasped. The first word she'd said since the Hypnogre caught her. "Cumcumcumcumcumcumcumcum," she chanted like a magical incantation, her voice low and needy. Her body matched her lover's pace, bucking and twitching awkwardly. She could move only her hips, which was just fine for the hypnotized elf, because her hips were the only part of her that needed to move.
Her meaty ass rippled as she brought it crashing down to meet the monster's thrust and she moaned. "Haaauuuu!" The pleasure nearly blinded her—a horrifying proposition—but the raw spike of pleasure was a reward worth the risk and Frieren did it again. And again. Despite her absurd pose, she worked her ass feverishly, obsessively, bringing it down again and again and again and each rippling impact threatened to be the one that overwhelmed her that fried her brain for good but she didn't stop bringing it down again and again her ass juddering shaking rippling cheeks twitching spasming.
She giggled like mad. "Cumcumcumcumcumcumcumcum! Cum for meeeeeeeee!"
***
"Safe. Finally."
Fern watched the vines fruitlessly writhe in the clearing—a clearing she now realized had been a trap. "Well, I survived your stupid trap," she grumbled. "And none the worse for wear." The vines had been breast-obsessed—they never struck her elsewhere, and never struck her hard. By the time she made it to safety Fern had lost count of the number of times the vines had slipped past her guard to suck her breasts. A wave of heat accompanied their "kisses," but dissipated once she cut them off. They never managed to find her nipples, thankfully, and once they were attached they were easy to dispatch. Hundreds of coiled-up vines littered the clearing floor, proof of Fern's swordplay.
She checked herself over, and was pleased to see the last of the little red circles indicating a bite was almost completely faded—she really had survived the ambush without so much as a scratch.
Fern was proud of that.
"Now to find Miss Friere—haaaah." Fern stumbled and steadied herself against a tree. "H-Hot," she panted. Sweat beaded on her forehead. "A fever? How did—the vines," she said. She dropped her sword—it bounced off the mossy floor with a dull rattle. Fern focused on her breathing, trying to center herself as something seeped into her bloodstream. "Poison," she guessed. "Or venom? I don't think those were actual plants." The distinction didn't matter. Miss Frieren had taught her poison-cleansing magic—which, despite the name, was effective at cleansing all toxins from the body, regardless of origin.
It was the kind of practical spell Fern liked, something simple and versatile. She recalled the incantation—the cast would be sloppy and inefficient without her staff but she could still manage. She reached out to her mana and chanted:
"Anti-Poison!"
Fern waited for the spell to take effect, for her hand to glow and the venom to be purged from her system. She knew the spell worked—she and Miss Frieren had tested it against everything from spider bites to death caps. The spell functioned on a simple principle—it amplified the body's immune response, reinforcing key organs and accelerating the natural filtering of toxin from the bloodstream. Simple spells always worked best.
Except this time, nothing happened. The heat wouldn't dissipate. If anything, it grew worse as she waited. Fern tried again, focusing her magic and carefully intoning the chant.
"Anti-Poison!"
Failed!
The Bikini Warrior class cannot cast spells!
"Why not?" Fern moaned. Her hands were sweaty, but as much as she wanted to peel off her gauntlets she knew better. She had escaped the vines but the forest was not her friend. Careful not to scratch up her back, she sat at the base of the tree and retrieved her sword where it lay. She had never had a fever like this—her body temperature was so high she swore the heat wafting off her bare skin was enough to create steam. The ever-present mist gave her a berth; Fern burning too hot for it to grasp at her as was its prerogative.
"At least this stupid outfit vents heat." The heat centered on her chest. Fern watched her breasts rise and fall with each juddering breath. She watched sweat drip into her cleavage. She watched her nipples stiffen.
She saw twin wet spots darken her purple bikini top.
"No way," she exhaled. "No way, no way, no way. They didn't—"
She had to check. Carefully, with her shield hand, she reached up and pinched a nipple. "Kyau." Milk dribbled onto her stomach. Her other nipple, as if protesting its neglect, squirted milk in sympathy with its twin. The warmth raging through her body flared.
The Cattle Creeper poison grew stronger!
Bikini Warrior Fern began lactating!
"Just what I needed," Fern complained, but already she was pinching her nipple between gauntleted fingers again. Her toes curled in their boots as more milk spilled through her bikini onto her belly and eventually her thighs. Fern never would have guessed lactating was something that felt good. "Maybe," she murmured, setting her sword aside, "maybe this is how to get the poison out." She pinched and pulled and twin spurts of white cream drenched her armored knuckles. She bit back a moan. It wasn't lactating that felt good, she realized.
Getting milked felt good.
"It's not like I'll make much progress while the poison's active," she rationalized. She pinched again and bit back a moan. "I'd be stupid to try and forge ahead while I'm like this." She quickly realized she could squeeze out more milk if she squeezed behind her nipples and pushed through them. Like handling a cow's teats. "I just need to get all this—mmmmn—poison out. I'll—hnnn—squeeze out all the poison, then I can look for Miss Frieren. Yeah."
Fern didn't seem to notice how every subsequent pinch, squeeze, and pull produced more milk than the previous.
"I hope Miss Frieren is doing okay on her own. Mhah."
***
"Nhoooooooooooh! Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Fuck me stupid! Fuck me moronic! Fuck me dumb! Just don't stoppppppppppp!" They hadn't, not for a moment. Frieren was a mess of cum, sweat, and drool. Her leotard and pantyhose were deeply stained—and her pantyhose full of fresh tears. Thank goodness she had indestructible armor.
Thank goodness, also, that her huge ass and fat thighs were the perfect fuck-cushion. The Hypnogre was exploring all the different ways it could fuck a bimbo fleshlight—it was currently taking her from behind, her tiny wrists held in its massive hands. With her back so severely arched, she looked like the figurehead of a pleasure boat—a wanton expression on her face that left no doubt as to how deeply gratifying it was for her to be held aloft and fucked. Her legs dangled uselessly beneath her, swaying like a pair of pendulums as her lover claimed her cunt exhaustively.
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" Best of all, Frieren felt herself getting dumber with each new position, as if the Hypnogre were carving out her intellect with its cock. It was an incredible relief. In her time away from the dungeon she had felt her intelligence trickling back, and with it awkward thoughts.
Was it really okay for her to sabotage Fern's development? To turn her into a mana battery for Puck like she was? Was it really okay for her to prioritize getting her next dick before her next meal? To put sex on a higher pedestal than magic?
With her arms twisted painfully backward and her ass smacking loudly against the Hypnogre's hips, Frieren was elated to know she didn't have to think nasty, complicated thoughts for much longer. Feeding her brain's pleasure center made everything else shrink, malnourished.
It was amazing—the better she felt the better she felt! On and on and on, forever and ever! All she had to do was make sure she kept getting her brains fucked out by studs and she'd never have to think bad thoughts ever again!
"I can't—hahiii!—wait for Fern—hoooooh!—to end up just like me! Hunhooooooo!"
"Can't wait? That makes two of us.♡"
Frieren stared openmouthed at the figure in front of her.
"My, my, what an interesting grimoire.♡ What's this, hmm? Dick-Growing Magic? What a wonderful-sounding spell!♡"
***
"Just a little more! Just a little more, I'm sure of it." Despite her thorough efforts, Fern's milk production had swelled. From thin white spurts, to dripping faucets, to ivory streams, to creamy rivers. Even when she mustered the willpower to keep her fingers off her nipples for a moment, milk continued to flow down her chest. She sat in a puddle—and half expected strange plants to sprout from the ground where her drippings watered the soil. "Why can't I run out of milk?" she protested loudly.
If it were just the milk, she might have been able to cope. But the venom was still in her system, and her fever still hadn't subsided. She was covered in sweat and her smell hung in the clammy air around her like a counterpart to the forest's mist. It was a good smell, a strongly feminine smell that Fern herself didn't detect, even if it alerted every male in a hundred-yard radius.
"This is ridiculous," she told herself. "I should be searching for Miss Frieren, not—mmmph—wasting my time like this. Besides, if the milk isn't going to stop—mmmn—I have no choice but to keep milking myself while I look for her." The excuse sounded weak, even to her, like something Miss Frieren would say to justify her latest ill-thought-out pursuit. But so what? She was her master's student.
Standing up without using her hands was awkward—but she managed by putting one foot flat against the tree trunk and pushing out while the other pushed up. She ascended shakily and paused. Something about her was a little more shaky than usual. "No," she breathed, looking down with dawning realization. "My boobs were always this big, right?" She wished she could say it for certain—that her boobs were exactly the same size she had sat down with. But she was too rational to outright lie to herself.
"How heavy were they before?" she wondered, pausing her milking long enough to weigh them in her hands. Fern tried to estimate how much they'd grown—but she couldn't tell. She hadn't really been paying attention—was she supposed to have expected her boobs to grow after getting poisoned by weird vines?
That seemed unreasonable. But the poison was unreasonable, too, so it'd be consistent if nothing else. "I should probably stop milking myself," Fern said, finger thoughtfully circling a nipple. That seemed a waste. Milking felt so good. Fern liked getting milked. She was stuck in a weird forest and she couldn't cast any of her spells—surely it wasn't the worst for her to have something she actually enjoyed about her current predicament?
"And maybe," she muttered, "maybe, my boobs would have grown more if I hadn't been milking myself." She liked that conclusion a lot more, and immediately sought supporting evidence. "That makes sense. Because if I hadn't gotten the milk out, where would it have gone? To my tits, obviously. I need to milk myself or my udders will get bigger. Yes, yes. I can agree with that. It only makes sense."
The Cattle Creeper poison grew stronger!
Lactation level up!
Bikini Warrior Fern became delusional!
Relieved to know she had in fact been administering appropriate preventative care the whole time, Fern returned her fingers to her nipples and gave them a guilt-free squeeze. "Nghooo. That's good," she sighed. The thought she'd have to keep her hands off her tits had made her surprisingly anxious—but with the matter settled Fern was free to work off her stress in her new most favorite way. By pinching, squeezing, and pulling. "Hooooohh. Nnnnnh. Mmmmmn." She kept her voice down; she wasn't looking for trouble. Her unarmored thighs rubbed together. She was standing, that was enough of an achievement to warrant a short break. She didn't want to exhaust herself looking for Miss Frieren.
Just a few more squeezes and she'd head out.
Lactation level up!
Now that she was watching for it, Fern saw her breasts swell. No wonder she had missed it at first; it was a surprisingly subtle process. Her breasts grew at the same time she squeezed them—masking the brunt of the change as her boob meat deformed under her grip anyway. But there was no tricking her discerning eye—she was Miss Frieren's star pupil after all—and Fern watched her breasts grow larger and felt them grow heavier and smothered the voice in the back of her head suggesting her boobs might be growing in response to the stimulus she was providing.
She had already established that things would be worse if she weren't milking herself.
"Ooooooooooh." Even if she hadn't been watching her boobs for growth, she'd have noticed it this time—her udders were finally big enough to strain her bikini top and the way the purple strings and purple triangles bit into her flesh was—
"Oooooooooooohhhhh."
—hard to put into words. It felt good, dangerously good. Fern knew that her breasts growing bigger was a bad thing—almost certainly a side-effect of whatever poison was in her system. She should not have wanted her boobs to be bigger. But.
"Oooohoooooooooooooooohhhhh."
But it was difficult to construct an argument against how simply good her growing breasts made her feel. She swore she felt them sloshing with all the extra milk they were producing—she could barely make out the bronze sheen of her gauntlets beneath the milky deluge.
She, of course, began to milk herself with reckless abandon. Her breasts were swelling because she was failing to get the milk out fast enough; if she didn't increase her pace they'd grow even bigger! Fern's brow furrowed. She really needed to concentrate or she'd fall behind. Her quiet, intense moans floated through the bewitching woods.
But even amid a burgeoning milky crisis, she needed to search for Miss Frieren. As tempting as it was to stand there and milk the day away, she needed to get moving. So she did, staggering through the undergrowth with her hands clamped to her tits, leaving her sword behind, forgotten where it lay.
This was ideal. She could search and milk at the same time. She truly was her master's student.
Lactation level up!
***
Frieren crawled across the forest floor. The nasty lady perched sidesaddle on her back and held her twintails in one hand like reins. She was humiliated.
"No, no, not that way. To the left, piggy.♡" the nasty lady said, yanking Frieren's head to the left.
"Hyes!"
"And be quick about it.♡" She swatted Frieren's ass and her whole body shuddered.
Frieren was awed by how amazing it was to be humiliated! She couldn't keep the satisfied expression off her face—her ears wiggled and her lips curled into a much puffier version of her cat's smile.
"I said be quick, you fat pig.♡" She spanked her again, and the bimbo snorted with pleasure. The nasty lady's words were so scornful, but Frieren knew she was smiling, too. The nasty lady was always smiling—and that was great, because she had an awesome smile! Mischievous, alluring, mysterious, it was the kind of smile could bring a woman to her knees.
Which had been exactly what happened! Or close enough—Frieren had crumpled to the ground when the Hypnogre was finished with her, a twitching, insensate mess. Just as she'd been about to get up, though, the nasty lady cast her spell—her, Frieren's, spell!
Her cock jumped at the memory. She wanted so badly to just stop everything and jerk herself off. Just for a little bit! The nasty lady's version of the spell gave her balls this time and they were so full! They really ratcheted up her production—glossy precum spurted near-constantly from her dick tip as she pawed her way around the bewitching woods. And when—
"I said faster, piggy!♡"
"Pigyou!"
—whenever the nasty lady spanked her, Frieren came. Her belly dripped with cum. The bottom of her boobs was coated, too, and rubbed off onto her arms so that Frieren wasn't just dirty but cum-splattered, too. The heady scent of her own ejaculate mixed with that of the Hypnogre's and with her sweat and the nasty lady's perfume to form a cocktail that she just couldn't help but suck down even if it meant snorting and snuffling through her nose while she swallowed down drool.
It was hard going, though, and not just because she wanted to jerk off! Frieren's body wasn't built for crawling on all fours—her boobs were too big and constantly got in the way, trapped between her arms, pushing down against the tip of her dick, dragging her perverted nipples over the uneven ground. Not even her indestructible armor could protect her from knobby roots!
"Aghyi! Nippulsh! Gumming!"
Like the knobby root that just clawed at her right tit. Her arms trembled and Frieren came dangerously close to collapsing. Hauling her huge boobs around was exhausting. She badly needed a break, but the nasty lady was a slave driver.
"Did I say you could stop, pig?♡" Swat. "Did I say you could cum?♡" Spank.
"Eym shorrrrryyyy!" was Frieren's squealing response. She came again, with both her cock and her pussy, and the combined pleasure of both sexes really did collapse her. Frieren's arms gave out and only her airbag-tits saved her from going down face-first into the dirt.
"What an undisciplined piggy you are.♡ Oh well, we've arrived—so I suppose I'll spare you further punishment.♡" Swat. Spank. Swat.
Just before Frieren's eyes crossed and her vision blurred, she saw a pair of boots, elaborate bronzed combat heels. Then she was "Gyummingggg!" and saw no more. But she smelled something really nice. A yummy milky smell that blended perfectly with the cum and sweat and perfume.
"Miss Frieren!"
***
"Miss Frieren!" Fern struggled to process what she saw. Miss Frieren was Miss Frieren—obviously—but in such a state! Her head lolling limply atop her chest, huge dopey smile on her face. Her ass hiked in the air, something lurking beneath her and poking out and Fern tried not to stare and it was easy because Miss Frieren was not alone.
There was a demon perching on her master.
"You must be Fern♡," it said, and Fern shivered hearing her name come from that mouth. The demon smiled—an enticing, cruel smile that promised pleasure if she would just satisfy a select few conditions she knew would be unsavory. "I've heard so much about you from this piggy here.♡" As it said the word, the demon swatted Miss Frieren as casually as if they were friends and hard enough to make her teacher's whole body wobble. Fern heard an unsettling squelch come from beneath Miss Frieren, and the pool of cum beneath her teacher grew.
A smell Fern half-remembered wafted through the air.
"Get away from Miss Frieren," Fern demanded. "At once. Or else."
"Or else what?♡ Do you plan to fight me off?♡ With what, milk jets?♡" The demon's smile grew so wide it threatened to split its face.
"With my sword, obvi—" Fern's face fell.
"The only sword I can see is attached to this piggy.♡" Smack.
"Buhgyu!" Miss Frieren squealed into her tits.
"My sword," Fern repeated dumbly. Her sword, which she had left behind. Her sword, that she had forgotten about in her eagerness to keep milking herself.
"By all means, use Miss Piggy's sword to defeat me,♡" the demon bubbled. It tossed its head back and laughed haughtily, smack smack smacking Miss Frieren instead of her knee. The noises Miss Frieren made were horrible. Hoarse, squealing grunts like the pig the demon claimed she was. It infuriated Fern to see her master abused so.
She was so mad she even managed to take her hands off her nipples, to point with an armored figure at the fiend that was making a fool of her esteemed teacher, and proclaim: "On my pride as Miss Frieren's apprentice, I will make you regret what you've done."
"On your pride, I like that.♡ Why don't I reply in kind?♡ On my name, Nimane, I vow to strip you of your pride.♡ As well as a few other things while I'm at it.♡"
Bikini Warrior Fern encountered Succubus Nimane (Elite)!
Fern waited for the demon to make the first move. All it did was recross its legs, using Miss Frieren's back as a stool.
"You're calling me an it, aren't you?♡" it sighed.
"What?"
"You're calling me an it.♡ I can see it in your eyes.♡ So remote.♡ You're a cold one, aren't you?♡"
Fern frowned. "I'm not—"
"Yes you are.♡ But don't worry, I'll fix you.♡" The demon's eyes flashed purple-green and Fern tried to look away—to discover she could not. "Really, treating me as an it.♡ Is my body anything but feminine?♡ Go on: Look it over.♡"
Fern found herself doing exactly as she was bidden—taking in first the demon's face, which was remarkably feminine. Aside from its striking eyes, purple mottled with flecks of greenish gold, it had thick lashes, appealingly lazy eyelids, full lips lacquered a toxic purple, a cute nose, and an artfully sculpted chin.
"It gets better as you go down, promise.♡"
It did. The demon was enormously chesty. Not as much as Miss Frieren, but shoved into a shiny black microdress the demon's boobs punched above their weight—which must have been considerable. Unlike Miss Frieren in her closed-up leotard, the demon had a long, tantalizing valley of indigo cleavage, amplified to an absurd degree by the tightness of her dress. Fern idly mused if a stone tossed between her tits would come out a diamond.
"Oh I love how hard you're staring, but don't stop there.♡"
Beneath her pushed-up chest, Nimane had an engrossing waist that somehow managed to curve like an hourglass while still appearing sinfully plush within the constraints of her minidress. Her hips flared out leading to an ass that could compete with Miss Frieren's. At least her teacher didn't have to suffer a bony butt digging into her back. Nimane was leggy, with squishy-looking thighs that went on and on until they gave way to elegant indigo calves and dainty feet tucked into the most hellish heels Fern had ever seen.
Small wonder she preferred riding to walking.
"Much better.♡ Really, just because I'm a demon doesn't mean you can just go ahead and think of me as an it.♡ I put far too much effort into my looks to allow that.♡"
Nimane's eyes flashed and Fern's were her own to move again. She wasn't about to allow the demon to trick her—no matter how good she looked a demon was a demon, and Nimane came complete with a curling horn and a furled wing—one of each, opposite each other on her left and right, a similar ebony black as her minidress, and awfully fetching against her sometimes-blue-sometimes-purple skin. Fern shook her head, trying to escape the odd thoughts that cropped up whenever she stared at the demon for too long.
"You're so serious, I love that.♡ You've never met a succubus before, I can tell.♡"
"So what if I haven't?" For the second time, Fern cursed herself for forgetting her sword. She had a feeling that letting this demon speak was a bad idea—but what was she supposed to do, tackle her off Miss Frieren?
As she thought about it, in the absence of other more practical options, tackling was not a bad idea. She tried to be subtle about how she bent her knees, and made sure to stare at Nimane's chest—so that the demon's eyes couldn't catch her again. She waited for the sound of Nimane's voice. She'd pounce while the demon was prattling on.
"Because you're standing there like an idiot instead of going to get your weapon.♡"
Fern jumped Nimue and the two fell intertwined. Miss Frieren let out a surprised snort. Why were they on all fours? Were they bimbo pigs too?
"That's more like it,♡" Nimane said, her voice joyous. She and Fern tumbled end over end, with the warrior leveraging her superior strength in an attempt to pin the succubus beneath her. To her surprise, she succeeded. Fern dug her knees into Nimane's thighs and pinned her arms to either side.
"Not so dangerous after all," she said, trying to keep any smugness out of her voice. She hadn't won yet. Merely incapacitated a demon that had beaten her master. She'd tease Miss Frieren about that later. "Now. Undo whatever spell you cast on Miss Frieren."
"There are several spells, I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific.♡" Nimane didn't talk like someone at the end of her rope. She smiled up at Fern and it made her deeply uncomfortable.
"All of them, then. Or I'll grab you by the horn and bash your head until the spells undo themselves." Without her sword, brute force and extreme violence were all Fern could rely on.
"How barbarous, I'm so scared, I'll do whatever you want, please don't bash my head in.♡" Nimane didn't mean it, and made no attempt to act like she did. Her tone was blatantly provocative. Fern dug her knees in harder and tightened her grip on Nimane's arms. "Oh, won't somebody please save me from this barbarous cow?♡"
Fern surprised herself by snarling. "Nobody's going to save you, demon. Fix Miss Frieren."