SamSuka
Kompera
Kompera

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Elf

Note: This is a story-prompt for Ani.

$20 Patreon Directory

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Eran could detect the change in his magic. At first it was subtle, nearly imperceptible. But now he could feel the change twisting and growing by the day. Something was off about him, something missing. His magic was reaching out… Finally, he realized.

“The elf,” he hissed. Somehow that sneaky little elf had made off with a piece of his magic. That creature would pay. “We will ride to Andor at dawn,” he told his generals, before he stalked out of the meeting tent and roamed the woods in his restlessness.

-

“Calyn’s getting a little chubby, isn’t he?” Garreth whispered to Maud, though with Calyn’s elven hearing, Calyn didn’t miss it from where he sat at the far side of camp.

His cheeks heated.

He looked down at the two layers of tunics he was wearing. He had even donned a cloak for several weeks, but could no longer tolerate it in the summer heat. All of these measures would prove fruitless in another few days. He was small and slim, as elves were. Any amount of weight gain proved rather blatant.

Calyn hung his head, blonde hair hanging into his face. How had he gotten himself into such a mess?

Weeks earlier, he had gone for a walk through the forest late one night, unable to tolerate another moment of Garreth’s battle planning. Like many of his kind, Calyn was a healer. He facilitated life, health, and growth. All of this bloodshed was against his nature. He understood that it was a necessary evil meant to halt even more of it, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear about the intricate details, let alone take part. It was a betrayal to his very being.

Calyn had been appreciating the cool air and abundance of nature, when somehow, he stumbled upon the very man Garreth was meant to kill.

The evil knight was alone, away from his officers, doing some enchantment or the other in a forest clearing. Just as Calyn tried to back away, Eran spotted him.

From afar, Eran had always looked manic to Calyn. But as Eran approached, and closed in, he appeared surprisingly handsome with his dark hair and eyes.

His magic was potent, and terribly alluring. His charisma did not match his deeds. And Calyn was weak, perhaps starved for contact after spending a full year with Garreth and Maud, apart from his kind, apart from other magical beings. It was almost like a heat had overcome him. Because the truth was that he had more in common with Eran than he did with his companions.

And now Calyn was paying the consequences. He could not believe this had happened. This child was magical. And more worrisomely, it was drawn to its father’s magic. Even a mention of Eran caused physical reactions. Calyn didn’t know how to tell the others. They might kill him for treachery.

-

“Our best chance to get Eran is after we separate him from his generals,” Garreth was saying during a meeting that evening with his merry band of fighters. Calyn hung in the back corner, usually forgotten until the aftermath of a battle. “That will be our one chance to kill him.”

“Nghhhhh…” Calyn groaned, hunching down and hugging his abdomen. His chest ached. He could feel his tunic tightening. Thankfully no one heard him through the cheers Garreth had roused.

“With our ambush, we’ll cut through Eran’s throat before he can utter any of his foul curses!”

Calyn’s belly lurched. His skin felt hot. One of his pants buttons snapped as his belly pushed forward. He felt dizzy. He needed air. He all but stumbled out of the tent, clutching his abdomen and gasping for breath.

He looked down at his tunics. They suddenly felt quite tight on him. He stared at the hills on his chest, which must have doubled in size in only the past few moments. What had been small heaps were now evident breasts. And his belly was round enough to make him look as though he was seven months with child. There would be no hiding his condition any longer. He stumbled off to his tent.

-

Calyn could hear the whistles of arrows before he was fully awake. The sounds were followed by the trampling of feet, clanking of metals, the shouts, and the screams. He scrambled to his feet, stumbling out of the tent, and choking on smoke. A hut and several tents were on fire. Armed warriors were cutting men down before they could even raise their weapons; before some had even woken slumber.

“Where is he?” a hoarse voice snarled. “The elf! I know he is here. Where is he!?”

Calyn stumbled towards the shouting. Before even thinking it through, he rushed onto the scene, to see the cruel knight himself standing over an injured Garreth, boot pressing into Garreth’s chest, pinning him to the ground. His bow was drawn taut, arrow aimed for Garreth’s throat.

“I’m here!” Calyn said. When Eran met his eyes, Calyn felt a surge of magic that was so powerful it nearly choked him. Eran’s eyes widened, his gaze shifting to Calyn’s abdomen, and there was a blossoming of pressure, as Calyn’s belly heaved with growth. He grunted and arched, as his belly pushed out, expanding, until he looked at term, then beyond it. “Nrrghhhhhh!” he groaned as his belly surged, clothes starting to tear. Soon he was impossibly large, flesh shoving forward until he looked like he could have been due with five children rather than one — like he was carrying a blasted litter of the evil knight’s spawn! His belly all but exploded forward, causing him to fall to his knees, clutching it. His ass swelled and strained his trousers. There was a sharp pressure, then fluid splashed against the back of his pants.

Calyn dissolved to sobs, whining as one hand clutched his pulsating orb. His other hand held his backside, his belly twisting and jerking. “Mgghhhhh…goddsss…the babe…” he whimpered, struggling to breathe.

Eran finally lowered his bow. The arrow dropped to the grass. “Take him,” he said quietly.

Calyn was seized by the arms by two of Eran’s men. He screamed as they dragged him up.

Eran removed his boot from Garreth’s chest. “Consider my mercy a favor to your elf, whom appears to have served me quite…bountifully. But if we cross paths again, I will not hesitate.” Then he turned and swept off, cape flapping behind him.

Calyn writhed in agony as he was carted away. And gods, somehow, he was still growing.


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