Potions

Prologue - The Discovery

"What's it say?" Connor demanded, grunting as he sharpened his axe, the blood of rat-men still dripping from the blade. The barbarian had been irritable ever since the battle had ended and the party had started to rest.

Elwin looked as though he was studying the creamy, luminescent contents of the vial, but he had been busy studying the writing etched onto the glass. The writing itself was finely etched on the vial, but the contents cast shadows of it against the flesh of his hands. "From what I can tell," he answered, "the potions effects depend on the drinker. I'd understand more if I had the right reference material." Clarifying with a sigh, he added, "Unfortunately, I can't bring along every tome that might vaguely be of use, and the ones we have on this language are too valuable to risk in case we don't come back."

"There's ten of us," Sir Paul reminded him, slowly working out some of the dents in his armour with his page. "Any distress that defeated all ten of us that quickly would likely threaten the capital."

Elwin decided to ignore this outburst, continuing to study the vials. He was confused: something this old shouldn't be in the hands of rat-men, but they'd found it when ransacking their bodies. "Besides," he thought, "wouldn't one of them have tried it? Even stupid rat-men would have known this kind of thing was special..."

"Why doesn't one of us drink it and find out what it does?" Vernon suggested.

The lyrics to Giorgio's song quickly changed from the invigorating words to a slightly more prosaic - but still sung - counter, "Are you volunteering?"

"Let the page do it," Vernon stated, twirling a gold piece through his fingers. "He's the most expendable."

"Brent's my cousin," Sir Paul snapped, "the youngest and the weakest." Brent's face reddened, but remained silent. "Besides, I'm not really too sure what service you're providing here," the paladin added.

"Other than being a pain in our ass?" Robin said, tightening a bandage as Stefan bit down into the wood bar clasped between his teeth. The fighter's muffled scream, quickly abated, as Robin wiped the sweat away his patient's eyes.

"Harsh words for a holy man!" Vernon guffawed, "Since I'm the one who is paying for the expedition..."

"Technically, the king is," Marcus replied, emerging from the dungeon's many shadows to return to the battlefield-cum-sanctuary. "You're just his lapdog." Getting back to the reason why he came back pointed out, "I heard you guys arguing, and came back to ask if you'd kindly shut up. It makes it easy to sneak around, but I don't want to have to run back like a jack-rabbit to warn you guys you've invited a larger horde of rat-men down upon your heads. What's so important that it's got you all worked up?"

Elwin held up the potion. "We found this while taking stock of the spoils. Maybe some general-purpose self-improvement purpose, but I'm not fluent in this script."

"I'm hungry," Connor interjected impatiently. "How long's Ashfist been outside? Is he hunting, or jerking off?"

Peering at the vial, Elwin mumbled to himself, "You know, it does look a bit like-"

Part I - The Volunteer

"Come on," the barbarian thought.

Connor tapped the handle of his axe impatiently; he tried not to act rashly - his people had a reputation for that - but he grew less tolerable the longer he went without food. And sex. Their supplies had been used up by the time they'd arrived at the site, and usually he'd have already eaten and bedded a woman this long after a battle. He glanced around, idly wondering if anyone would get angry if he tucked into one of the rat-men and took Brent off to a quiet corner for a while. He started to wonder if doing so would make Sir Fancy-Pants annoyed.

"Why don't I just drink it?" he suddenly announced. A few faces turned to look at him. Marcus had vanished off back into the shadows. Ashfist was still absent, and the paladin had taken his page upstairs to wait for him. Stefan had passed out from the mace he'd taken to the chest, and Robin was napping to recover his energy for another round of healing. Everyone else, though, looked at him.

Aware of an odd feeling of judgement, he threw up his arms, asking, "What? I'm fucking hungry, and that tree-fucker's been gone for hours."

"We probably shouldn't waste it," Elwin suggested, "and if it is poison, you not eating will just make it act faster. Just-"

Connor's patience had run out; standing up, he marched over to the mage and seized him by the wrist.

"Ow!" Elwin yelped, his voice raising an octave. "You whore's cunt!"

Connor ignored it; the others present looked at him, but he pointed one thick, dirty index finger into the air, threatening, "This goes up the ass of anyone who complains, and I ain't gonna stop when it's knuckle-deep." Nobody protest: Connor hoped it was because he'd been suitably threatening, but couldn't help wonder if maybe they now just wanted to see him off himself for being a fool.

The vial had been stopped with a cork: Connor grunted as he wrenched it off, the cork stubbornly sticking to the sides longer than he'd expected. Sniffing gingerly at the vial's contents: salty and musky scents hit his nose, but as he pretended to eye the stuff, he discreetly gave himself a quick sniff and really wasn't sure if he hadn't just noticed the fact he'd needed to find a river or lake to wash in.

"Well, don't want to look like a stupid baby now," Connor thought, resigning himself as he brought the vial's lip to his own, tilting his head back and letting the salty, creamy fluid into his mouth. He coughed - he hadn't expected it to have that much of a burn, or a kick - but he'd swallowed it now, there was nothing to do but wait to see if he keeled over.

Connor stood there for a while, feeling the surprisingly sticky fluid clinging to his throat as it slid down, leaving a tingling trail. The tingling slowly grew in intensity, as he felt a surge of magic beginning to spread into his flesh. "Whoo!" he yelled, not intending to shout quite so loudly. The rush after a battle rekindled inside him: the weariness in his muscles ebbed, and his hunger seemed to lessen.

"How do you feel?" Elwin asked.

"I feel... pretty good!" Connor exclaimed, flexing his muscles and watching how they moved underneath his skin. He knew he was much stronger than other men, but he'd never really thought about it in such detail before. Seeing those sinews flexing, beads of sweat tracing ragged lines over the contours of his flesh, the surge of power flowing through him, as if there wasn't anything he couldn't do.

The tingling passing through Connor didn't soak into just his muscles: he had worn less furs than he had when he was at home, but he still felt too hot. Steam wisps flickered out of his mouth as he breathed in deeply. He felt bigger. Stronger. Randier.

Connor wasn't sure he was actually swelling bigger, but there were definitely parts of him that were. Once again, he wished one of the party had been female. It always usually made the journey more enjoyable. He muttered, "God, I could go for a fuck..."

Looking around at the group, Connor quickly decided on a course of action. Grabbing his axe, he announced, "I'm going to scout around a bit."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Robin grumbled, "We've still got wounded, and Marcus won't be pleased if you go stomping around."

"Besides," observed Vernon slyly, "shouldn't you be here for when food arrives?"

"I know how to be quiet!" Connor snapped, "And I'll be back before the tree-fucker stops jerking off to his favourite bush." Before anyone else could protest, he headed deeper into the dungeon.

Not intending on going too far - Connor may have been impulsive, but he wasn't foolish - he walked, wandering the corridors and listening for the voices of the others. Normally, he would have preferred to go outside if he wanted privacy: he was far more familiar navigating in wide expanses than twisty, dark tunnels, but at any moment Ashfist might come back, or one of the others might want to pop out for some fresh air. He didn't mind an audience, but right now it would just make him mad.

Leaning his axe against the wall once he judged he was out of earshot, Connor grunted, stripping off his clothes and tying them to the axe to save him from fumbling around in the dark. Completely naked, he ran his hands over his hard, thick muscles, feeling the incredible warmth his body seemed to be emanating. He scratched idly at some phantom itch, caressing himself all over as his mighty cock swelled and throbbed.

Raising his palms to his face, Connor spat into them, lubricating his shaft with his saliva as he started fondling himself. His cock strained and thickened in his hands as he started to grunt and moan, enjoying the feeling as it stretched further beyond his grip. The wrinkles of his sack started to unfold, his balls swaying as his strokes were met by slow thrusts, dangling lower and heavier. Even the tug of the growing weight of his sack felt erotic.

"Oh yes," he rumbled, glad to have gone far enough. He was known to be a loud fucker, and with his whole body seeming to throb and swell, now would be no exception. Swearing, he reached back, tugging on the thick tail that he'd started to grow. The sudden jolt of pain was exciting; Connor always liked it when his lovers were playful, giving as good as they got while rolling around on top, then under, him.

Connor felt his nostrils stretch as he inhaled, filling his growing lungs. His own musk, radiating off of his groin, hung thick in the air like a comforting fog. When he exhaled, he let his swelling tongue dangle over his teeth, saliva dripping down between the coarse pin-pricks caused by the bristling dark hair sprouting over his body.

"Uhh," he groaned: it felt too much, too fast. Letting go of his churning cock, Connor squeezed on his nipples, feeling their swollen thickness and sending excitement through his body as he remembered a time with a feisty young maiden who'd taken to biting them during foreplay. Just the thought made him thrust into the air, his slick head continuing to stretch into a long, fleshy rod. It slapped back against his chest, sending even more lurid thoughts into his brain.

Connor braced himself with one arm against the wall, large fingers and thumbs swelling further as his whole body grew, as if trying to catch up with the rest of him. Darkness invaded the nails as they clawed into the stone wall for extra leverage. Raising to the balls of his feet, he spread his buttocks wide, too horny to laugh at the gentle tickling as something wormed its way down the centre of his thick buttocks. This stance felt so much more comfortable; he imagined himself hunching over, thrusting away as his free hefty hand began stroking his needy cock once again.

"Yes!" he bellowed, the sound roaring out of his changing lungs, through his thickening neck and out of the mouth widening as his jaw stretched out his flesh as it grew. His sharp features rounded out: nose bulbous and moist, nostrils expanding as they flared, his muscular tongue spilling out over broader, flatter teeth.

Wriggling the merged toes on each foot, Connor tried getting traction on the smooth stone while his black, dirty nails cracked and knitted together. The head resting up against the stone wall started to scrape against massive horns, firm pointed tips building up quickly.

Bellowing like one of the bulls he was slowly resembling, Connor throttled his bovine cock between his hands. Everything in his body seemed hard and throbbing: his shaft, his now almost comically-exaggerated muscles, even his tail lifted up and hung in the air. The lust burning through him turned his eyes into ominously fiery red orbs. Aside from them, the only other part of him easily visible in the shadows was the length of his massive pink cock that wasn't being squeezed by his hands.

A ripple shuddered through him as he bellowed again. This time, it announced the arrival of his orgasm. Weighty cream fluid gushed out of him, the scent triggering some seemingly-dormant memories: a taste dancing on his lips and over his tongue. His spinning head latched on to it as his balls continued to feed his shaft, the very top of his axe slowly disappearing into the spreading puddle.

Releasing his cock, Connor slammed his fists against the wall. He wanted to get down on all fours and drink, but that didn't feel quite right. Grabbing his axe, his wide nostrils sniffed, trying to find whatever it is that his body desperately craved.