That Time I Forgot I Was A Woman [Commission]
An anonymous commission.
"Is everyone all right?" Laeril asked with both the calm and the concern of a healer as he squinted through the settling dust to find his companions.
"Well, obviously there's... y'know..." Pia said, dusting off her robes as she awkwardly gestured with her head at the bulky mound of scales and gore they'd all managed to dodge just in time. The half-elven mage's button nose wrinkled at the sight as the rest of the party gathered around it
"Yes, well... I'm afraid I can't do anything for him..." the druid said, trying to find a trace of Thrull the Savage under the body of the dragon. There was red blood mixed with the purplish ichor of the dead wyrm, but nothing that could be identified as a human body.
"Poor Thrull. Still, it's quite a feat - decapitating a dragon in combat..." Janill remarked as he unstrung his longbow. The elven ranger's arrows had struck true and sunk deep, but it was the barbarian's massive sword that had taken the dragon down.
"Aye, it's the stuff songs all right. Mind you, yer not supposed to take the beast's head if both of you are flying around up there..." Dorn rumbled with his thumbs hooked into his belt. "Ye can be a dragon-rider, or a dragon-slayer, but not both at the same time." the dwarf said.
"Well put. Should we... would a moment of silence..." the half-elven mage asked tentatively. The abrupt passing of Thrull the Savage wasn't moving any of them to tears, and least of all the sole female of the party, who'd taken more offence at most at the barbarian's... coarse personality.
"I don't think we need to. After all, we will be bringing him back, won't we?" Laeril asked, subtly reminding the party of their duty to their fallen comrade.
"Yes. Yes, of course. After all this is why we've both been setting a share of our spoils. Raising him won't work I'm afraid, not after that plummet. Really rotten luck, having the dragon twist in midair and land on top of him... But I understand a priest of great renown could return him to us as long as we bring him some of Thrull's... remains?"
"Aye, but guess who dinnae pay so much as a clipped copper? Not enough to bring him back if he was brought low by blade or arrow, not to mention cushioning a dragon's fall..." Dorn said, gesturing towards the smear that was their mighty warrior. Dorn had all of the avarice that was endemic in the Dwarven race but without the respect for other people's property that most dwarves exhibited. Since he could beat any lock and any trap it made sense to let him be the party treasurer, in so much as that he seemed reluctant to steal from the people fighting alongside him.
"Ahh yes, let me guess - I am the warrior of prophecy, Death himself hasn't got the guts to come and face me! I will never be slain, and when I have bested every foe the world sets against me I'll rise into the sky and take my rightful place among the immortal heroes of legend!" Pia said, pushing her voice down and affecting the backwoods accent of their fallen comrade.
"He usually hawks and spits when he mentions Death, but otherwise that sounds spot on." Janill agreed. As a ranger he usually got along well with the rough and nomadic peoples who made their homes in wild places of the world since for all their savage ways they lived with nature rather than trying to tame it. And Thrull had been an excellent warrior but even the males of the party found him distasteful and obnoxious. As both an intellectual and a woman Pia had justifiably been offended more than most whenever the barbarian would voice his opinion on either knowledge or the fairer sex.
"And the dragon he killed was a youngling. Barely scraped together a hoard at all." the dwarf said. They'd only been in its lair long enough to lure the wyrm out, but nobody doubted that the cursory glance was enough for the dwarf to appraise the drake's wealth. "So I say we spend on his revival what he paid in - nary a copper, and I'll pluck my beard out if I'm lying!"
"Well there is still his share in the hoard to consider. Why don't we see what it comes out to and spend it all to bring him back?" Laeril ventured.
"That sounds reasonable." Janill said with a nod.
"I... suppose I'm fine with it." Pia mumbled grudgingly.
"It's settled then. And if we do bring him back, I want to be the one to tell him we spent his money!" the dwarf said with wicked glee.
*******
"Are you sure that's enough... remains?" Pia whispered to Laeril, glancing at the bloody foot lying on the rough altar, the best they could scrape together from under the bulk of the fallen wyrm. Two elms with their branches twined formed an arch behind the rough-hewn stone block in the deep-woods grove, and as the chanting rose luminous mist already coiled in the arboreal archway.
"Hierophant Beucephalus' skill far exceeds my own..." Laeril explained in a hushed, reverent tone as the old centaur druid prayed and chanted over the woodland altar. "Thrull will be returned to us just as he'd been before death, but in a new body in the prime of life, reincarnated from the power of the living world and the Hierophant's prayers. Nature will make us a gift of this new life, but we cannot know what form it will take."
"What if he comes back as a dragon? Him and the beastie had been crushed quite close together by that fall..." Dorn mused as he stroked his beard.
"No, it will be something human-like... there, see the outline!" he gestured and squinting into the glowing mist the party could see a tall humanoid shadow walking towards them, either very slowly or crossing some unfathomable distance.
A foot stepped out, or rather a paw patterned in black on yellow on what looked at first like skin but turned out to be the sleek fur of a feline. A form followed, tall, lithe and with muscles flowing gracefully under the luxurious hide. The newcomer yawned, as if waking from a long rest, sharp white teeth flashing in the light cast by the glowing mists that had birthed this strange and exotic creature.
"Thrull?" Pia asked, unable to connect the feline with the barbarian she rememebred, for more reasons than one.
"Thrull... THRULL THE SAVAGE!" the leopard roared out in the voice of the party's warrior that was even growlier now that he had a hunting cat's vocal cords. "Thrull the Fierce, who kicked Death in his dried up sack and stands once again in the world of the living! Let the mighty tremble, let the whores rejoice, I'm back!" he proclaimed, throwing his arms up in triumph.
"Thrull for gods' sake put your arms down and cover yourself!" she insisted while the rest of the party stared in shock.
"Modesty if for the weak and frail! Wind, hail, sun or frost, I hide myself from nothing!" the oblivious barbarian still insisted.
"In a way, he's wearin' a lot more than he used to..." Dorn said, leering and wondering how long it would take for the savage warrior to realize what has happened, and how he'd react. "Not showin' a lot of skin, is 'he'?" the dwarf prompted, and Janill covered his mouth and tried to keep his shoulders from shaking.
"I will give you some time to welcome your companion back..." the venerable centaur said before leaving the grove.
"Thrull, we... there wasn't enough to pay for a true resurrection..." Laeril began but stopped when the barbarian looked down and it became obvious that he no longer had the warrior's attention.
"Wha... is this... are these..." the warrior wondered, raising his paw-like hands to a chest that seemed even heavier than his old one.
"...so we had the Hierophant reincarnate you in a new body. You, ahh... seem to have come back as a Tabaxi. I doubt you've heard of them, even this region is further north than they usually wander, not to mention your homeland..." the druid explained, trying to ease the barbarian into the reality of his new life.
"Is he seriously...?" Pia asked, watching the feline face staring down as hands groped a firm and impressive pair of furry breasts.
"At least he's covering them up?" Janill ventured.
"What you come back as was up to fate and it seems that you're also now a... that is you're no longer male."
"What makes you say that?" the savage asked, still unable to take his paws or his eyes off his ample chest.
"Well you've got a little extra up there, but you're a wee bit at a loss lower down..." Dorn said, grinning in anticipation at the barbarian's shock when he realized what he was missing.
"Hmmm. So I've got a cunt now. Big deal. I'm still Thrull. I'm still tall, strong..." he said, flexing his arms and watching with satisfaction as even fur failed to hide the muscles under it. "I can still hold my sword..." he said, hefting the enormous blade that had been resting against the altar. "... and once we reach our first tavern I'll show you lot I can still make wenches scream my name. Find some pretty little cunny, bend her over a table and give her a taste of..." Thrull mused before slipping a paw over his crotch. It was a typical gesture for the party's barbarian, and many were the times he'd retold old carnal exploits or pondered future ones while cupping his loincloth, but the realization finally seemed to sink in, along with one of his new fingers.
"Look Thrull, I know this is a big shock for you but... but you're going to have to act a little differently now..." Pia insisted, figuring that as the sole woman she had to offer the reborn barbarian some sisterly advice.
"But I still like pussy..." Thrull insisted, absentmindedly stroking his own.
"That... that's fine! Some women like... enjoy the company of other women. I'm sure that you'll find someone..." she said, knowing that the majestic feline body the savage fighter had been endowed with would catch the eyes of even women, but how many females of that persuasion would stick around after the first time the obnoxious barbarian burped full-force in their face, challenging them to be louder. "... but for starters you have to cover up!"
"All right, all right... Where's my loincloth?" the feline asked, looking around for his sole article of clothing, bar his boots.
"Under a dragon. I don't want to be grisly Thrull but your sword and... that..." Janill said, gesturing to the human foot still lying on the altar. "... was all that we could recover."
"No, not a loincloth!" Pia insisted. The smell of the barbarian's sole garment still haunted her, and she wondered if even the rotting carcass of a dead dragon would mask it.
"Woman, don't argue with me! It was enough to keep my massive member covered, along with the biggest set of balls the world has ever seen, why would it be improper now that all I've got is this?" he said, casually slapping a hand against hi... _her_crotch.
"One - that... thing_was _never proper! Two - you have more to cover up than you seem to realize... and don't you 'woman' me anymore!" Pia scolded.
"What do you want? I'm showing less skin now than ever, right fellas?" Thrull asked, laughing in a way that never failed to make the vein in the mage's forehead throb.
"All right, let me ask you like this - what would you think of a woman who walks around with a piece of cloth covering her crotch and her breasts exposed?"
"I'd think she's begging for a nice thick cock up in..." Thrull began with a leer but tapered off when the allegory sunk into his underused brain. "Well what did you have in mind?"
*******
Thrull was as quick to laugh as he was to anger, particularly at humor the 'civilized' people liked to wrinkle their noses at. When in his cups he'd laugh hard enough to rattle the rafters, and liked to think he could make others laugh as well. But he was not accustomed to having people laugh at him, the way all three male members of his party were even now doing as they beheld him in the humiliating outfit Pia had made for him.
"I told you I look ridiculous!" he complained. Pia had taken him aside and used one of her spare robes and some of her cantrips to make the cloth split, warp and re-knit into something she thought was suitable.
"You don't, you look decent, for once in your life. All right, it's not exactly stylish, but..." Pia started before the newly garbed Thrull cut her off.
"I suppose I could live with the kilt..." the barbarian mused.
"That's nae a kilt lass! That'd be what we call a 'skirt'..." Dorn guffawed, making the mage's job more difficult.
"But why do I have to wear both this harness and a shirt over it? Clothes over clothes, that's just stupid..."
"ITS'S NOT... it's not stupid, you're wearing a bra and a blouse over it." Pia said, trying to calm herself as she eased Thrull into the concepts of a feminine wardrobe.
"So why wear both?"
"Well you could just go with a blouse if your chest was more modest, but as it is you've been blessed with quite an ample bust..." the half-elf explained.
"You mean the tits?" the barbarian asked, hefting his plush feline mounds as the familiar vein throbbed on the make's forehead.
"They're not called... look, you need support. Even I wear a bra and mine aren't half as big as yours."
"All right, but then why the shirt? If I'm trussing these things up I might as well show them off, right fellas?" he said, seeking support even though his comrades in arms were still stifling their laughter.
"We went over this! It sends the wrong message?" the mage prompted, watching as the gears turned and ground in the warrior's new skull.
"Oh right - that I want cock. Yeah, I don't want to send that message..."
"There's a relief..." Janill muttered, launching the other two into another fit of laughter.
"Look, this is just until we get back to town. Once there you can buy... stop scratching yourself with those claws, you'll rip it to shreds! Like I was saying, you can buy a more flattering and comfortable wardrobe. I'll... I'll even help you..." Pia said, swallowing a lump in her throat at the idea of accompanying Thrull the savage to the shop of some poor unsuspecting seamstress.
"Fine, I'll give it a try..." Thrull acquiesced, albeit with reservations.
*******
"Some companions they are. Killed a dragon for them, and what do I get..." Thrull muttered as he made his way along the dock still busy even after sundown as the porters and sailors filled the night with noise and a cacophony of colorful expressions in a half a dozen different tongues.
The barbarian was happy enough with his new body, but the rules that seemed to come with it were ridiculous. He had to keep his chest bound up and covered, he had to keep his hands off his tits even though they were his tits, he had to remember to close his legs when he sat for some reason. What had Pia called it? Modesty! Why should he - a warrior of such renown, a hero who'd cheated Death itself- be modest? He wasn't some elf-blooded lady like Pia and he'd be damned if he'd let the mage make him into one.
The outfit they'd chosen - or rather fought over- was decent enough. His kilt was now shorter and didn't hinder the long strides of his new feline body and the blu...blosu...bloo - the shirt was light enough that he barely noticed it. The bra thing still annoyed him and seemed to itch and chafe in places he supposedly wasn't allowed to scratch in public. And the underwear Pia had been so adamant about were a joke as far as Thrull was concerned, and he'd peeled them off and tossed them away in the first alley he'd stepped into. Thrull had never been afraid of the dark and he walked where he pleased, unheeding of danger, but with his new feline eyes there didn't seem to be any more dark alleys.
Even the sputtering dockside torches seemed to cast enough light to bathe the entire wharf, enough that his keen feline eyes missed nothing. His new body lacked some of his old bulk but there were advantages. He stood a little taller, mostly due to the long, slender legs that carried him along in a long silent gait. His hearing was also keener, with his new ears swiveling to catch any little noise, and that suited him just fine. Anyone low enough to try to sneak up on him would wish he'd tried to face him like a man and thus earn a quick, honorable death. He hadn't even bothered with his sword tonight - this feline body was muscular enough to serve him well in a fight, and then there were the claws and teeth to fall back on.
But the sense of smell was the most prominent one as he walked the wharf. Thrull had never been one to wrinkle his nose at the rich scents of life, and he preferred to 'reek' of smoke, sweat and the blood of his foes, rather than scrub himself any chance he got and throw money away on cloying perfumes that always made him sneeze. The smell of the docks was always pleasant to him, but his new nose could sort the wild mess out clearly - the tar of the ships' hulls, the rotting seaweed, the distinct miasma of the fishing boats smelling both of the recent catch as well as the accumulated fishiness. The greasy smoke of the torches and the more appetizing smoke of cooking fires, the smell of the dockside whores and their patrons and over it all the smell of salt - he took all of it in with every breath. He'd strolled past several taverns before stopping at a dim and dingy looking one. He might have walked past it without his new nose catching the aroma of roasting meat. A haunch of ox, spitting fat as it turned over hot coals. A nearly faded sign sported letters that Thrull couldn't read and the crude carving of a broken anchor, and the place looked like the sort of establishment travelers were well advised to avoid. That is - those who were ruled by fear.
Thrull threw open the door wide, the screech of rusted hinges drawing every eye to him. He lifted his chin proudly as the patrons of the bustling little watering hole stared in obvious awe. As well they should - this rough-and-tumble lot would have the honor of drinking with a warrior who was fast becoming a legend, a story they'd tell their grandchildren one day. The chairs by the bar were all taken but one of the dockhands got up as Thrull strode forward, a token of respect and the acknowledgement that he was honoring them by his presence. The Tabaxi barbarian mounted the barstool - with his long legs on either side of it - before slamming his hand on the bar enough to rattle the tankards resting on the scarred wood.
"Barkeep, pour me some ale. Dark, thick and strong - make sure it's from the keg and not the rain barrel... And, hold on a second..." Thrull said, unlacing his shirt and busying himself with the straps of the damned thing binding his chest. Almost a minute later the fabric went slack and his tits bounced free as he handed the dainty article of clothing to the stunned tavern keep. "Here. I can't relax with this fucking thing on, so just make sure you give it back to me before I go or I'll never hear the end of it..."
*******
The patrons of the broken anchor were themselves a motley crew - scraped from the bottom of both this town and a dozen other ports - and while many of them could be called exotic by someone who was feeling generous, the spotted feline who'd just strolled in like she owned the place was definitely standing out. After staring mutely for a few seconds the barkeep took her bra almost reverently before handing the strange female a mug of stout. The brew was thick and strong, the sort of stuff a dockhand would nurse trying to warm himself after a foggy morning had driven the chill into his bones, but the cat had knocked almost the whole thing back as if it was the well-watered swill most of the patrons were quaffing.
But if her thirst was peculiar, her appearance was baffling. No woman looking this fine should have been walking the docks alone at night, even one as tall and obviously athletic as this one, and she certainly shouldn't have walked into an drinking-den this seedy and damn-near flashed her tits to every leering scoundrel in it. The light blouse was still clinging to the firm feline mounds, showing no more than the white-furred cleft between them and the nipples just barely visible through the linen now that the cat's bra was tucked in the barkeeps apron. Chairs scraped as people turned to look - no, stare!- at the newcomer, with some of the burlier patrons crowding close for a better glimpse. But the woman just seemed to derive some... smug satisfaction from becoming the center of dangerous attention. Reynard - the tavern's resident musician- quickly decided his break was over and took up his lute, possibly hoping to seduce the strange beauty with music, while several others seemed ready to try something less subtle.
"Don't think I've seen you around here before. I'm certain I would have remembered a body like that!" ventured Torek, a half-orc openly leering at the cat in a way that would have most women covering up and looking for the exit.
"Hell of a body, huh? And it costs a hefty share of a dragon's hoard, let me tell you that..." Thrull said, referring to the cost of the spell that had brought him back. The rest of the patrons shared an incredulous look. If this feline was here to whore herself out, her behavior made a little more sense, but even if she was willing to haggle that was a very hefty price...
"That seems a little steep..." rumbled a hulking dragonborn thug who'd taken position just to the right of the spotted female. The reptilian brute was not above taking a woman by force, but the sheer amount of muscle, tooth and claw this one was sport him made him more willing to part with his money than with blood, provided he could drive the price down.
"Steep?" Thrull asked, hawking and spitting on the floor with such practiced ease that the patrons near him had just barely managed to dodge. "For this? Worth every copper and then some!" the feline boasted, extending her arms to either side before flexing them to show the way the muscles moved and bulged along the long limbs. With all eyes on him, Thrull raised his arms above his head, grinning in satisfaction at the dead silence as the crowd stared in awe at the physique of a peerless warrior.
And it was true that the flow of feline muscles was a thing of perfection and had there been an artist in this mob he would have immediately reached for paper and charcoal and started sketching. But the patrons of this den were less refined and had in fact spared no more than a glance at the powerful feline limbs. Thrull's arm-waving had caused his blouse to open a little wider, and with his arms flexed above his head the hefty mounds were pulled up high on his chest, pink nipples visible in the expanse of white fur. They were a simple lot unburdened with a notion of morals or ethics, and had a clear enough idea of what a female brazenly showing off her body in a place like this was looking for.
"Your stein's almost empty. Let me by you another..." the dragonborn noted, signaling the barkeep for the same.
"I think I'm gonna let you. I had enough trouble remembering the frilly nonsense I had to wrap myself in and forgot my coin purse. And while you're at it, give me a slice of that roast. I hate drinking on an empty stomach..." Thrull said before draining half of his tankard well before the innkeep could serve him.
As he dug into the large slab of still bloody meat with the table-manners (or lack of thereof) that seemed to shock even the port-side scum crowding around hum, Thrull marveled at how good everything smelled and tasted to his new senses. He knew that this hunk of meat must have come from an ox that had broken its leg and could no longer pull a plough or cart, but his new teeth would have had little trouble chewing through a leather belt and had little trouble with tearing through tough meat. Nor was it cooked with any particular skill - blackened outside and almost raw at the middle, seasoned with nothing more than salt and wine that was so bad that even this lot wouldn't pay a clipped copper for it.
But his feline nose and tongue reveled in the rich taste of red-meat, and the sensation of tearing the slab of beef apart seemed to be stirring something primal and predatory that was built into the body of this hunting cat. By the time he was mopping up the red juice with the hunk of hard black bread he could feel his heart beating faster and his blood pumping through his veins.
"Nothing like a good meal to get our fire burnin'..." the barbarian said, belching so hard and so long that some of the patrons chose to view it as a peculiar roar. If the others had been put-off by the way the Tabaxi had gorged on her meal and the way she was wiping the mess from her muzzle with the back of her forearm, they forgot it when the feline shrugged off the blouse before tossing it to the barman.
"Here, just don't let me walk out without this..." the spotted cat said, attacking the stout once again now that her hunger was sated.
"You... don't seem to care much for clothing, huh?" asked Torek, his tusk-like teeth digging into his upper lip as he took in the sight of the tabaxi's bare chest in all its glory. The spots ran along the sides of the firm globes, and judging by how hard they were staring many of the patrons were trying to count them.
"Like I need that crap! I fight bare-chested! If I'm not afraid to catch a spear here..." the cat said, slapping a spotted hand against the white cleft between her ripe mounds. "... why should I worry about stares? Fucking clothes... all a warrior like me needs is strong steel, stronger drink, and a cock stronger than either!" Thrull said with a grin, further stunning the crowd by grabbing his crotch in an unsubtle gesture. That would have gotten Pia outraged but she wasn't here to nag at him, and these were the kind of people he could relax around.
He drained his tankard and was pleased to see a full one was already on its way. He was feeling flush from the first two already and guessed the barkeep was pouring a bit of rum into each one, worried that his beer wasn't strong enough for a man like him. He was the center of attention as he regaled the crowd with tales of his exploits, awe shining in every face as they stared at him, obviously in disbelief that a mere mortal had vanquished such foes as he had. So lost in his tales was he that he misread the intention of the half-orc who'd laid a hand on his thigh.
"Feel that? Hard as a century-old oak! I... I could kick a manticore's head in with this. And take a look at these..." Thrull said, getting off his stool a little unsteadily but managing to catch his balance in a suitably impressive pose.
He suspected his new body didn't have his typical tolerance for drink, but he didn't think much of it. The crowd were cheering him on now as he struck pose after pose, flexing his muscles and being completely oblivious to the fact that the eyes of the gathered males were fixed on the softer parts he was also showing off. It only became apparent when someone came up behind him and casually wrapped his arms around the spotted body with his hands cupping and lifting the mouthwatering feline breasts.
Thrull was capable of extraordinary ignorance, which had served him well enough so far. He could disregard things like pain, fatigue, icy winds or a scorching sun, and so far he'd been able to completely ignore the fact that he'd been recently born to a new body and a new sex and carry on as he always had. He didn't realize that while he could remember winning drinking contests against dwarves, his new body had never ingested alcohol and that even though he thought he'd just started drinking he'd already drank way more than he should have. His self-control was eroded to the point that when the hands of the bard who'd dared to do what every other male in the place had planned to do squeezed his breasts he couldn't stop himself from moaning, the first truly feminine thing he'd done since his companions had brought him back.
The patrons were themselves quite uncomplicated, and when they heard this strange feline moan and saw her legs tremble as Reynard expertly played with her chest, it was enough for them to forget the way this exotic female had been belching, spitting and scratching herself the whole night. Thrull didn't even notice every last one of them rise, or the way they were crowding around him. His keen feline eyes could hardly focus on anything other than the sight of his breasts in the hands of the bard behind him, as fingers calloused by the strings of a lute played just as deftly over the pink nipples now standing erect from the twin patches of smooth skin gracing each perfect mound.
His ears registered the moans and whimpers, but it took Thrull a while to remember that he was the one making them. It was certainly the sort of noise that could always make his blood boil, one that told him that some eager slut was about to get the fucking of a lifetime, even though he still didn't quite realize who the slut was. Foreplay wasn't a word the barbarian was familiar with and he'd never been on the giving or receiving end, and he couldn't believe how the act of having his tits played with was affecting him. Every brush of a fingertip, every tweak of the pert pink nubs and every squeeze of the lusty musician's hands was quickening his breath and his pulse until Thrull's vision blurred...
*******
"Come on slut, don't pretend you don't know how to handle one of these..." came a lusty grown, and when Thrull focused his feline eyes he was staring at the greenish cock of the half-orc holding his shaft with one hand and the feline head with the other.
Indignation boiled up within the barbarian's heart, fighting past the fog of alcohol and the rising tide of lust. He realized he was well and truly drunk now, but that had never stopped him from brawling before - it just increased the collateral damage he caused. The green-skinned thug's gonads were exposed and a tempting target but then the once proud warrior inhaled, and as his nostrils flared his mind went blank. Of all his new senses the sense of smell had been most pronounced, and his new nose seemed to have a direct line to the feline instincts that this new body came with. And as he took a second sniff of the aroused male, Thrull realized it wasn't just feline, but feminine instincts.
"Are you deaf? Open wide and drink down the cream like a good kitty..." the half-orc said, slapping Thrull's muzzle. The tip of the brute's cock left a small smear of clear slime across the tabaxi's nosepad, and that had been the end to any thoughts of resistance Thrull the Savage could muster.
He could hear someone panting over the crowd who was now cheering the big green brute on as he pushed his tip against the feline muzzle, and it took Thrull a while to realize he was doing it. Or rather she. The crisis of identity that should would have hit a reasonable person the moment he came back to life in another body was only dawning on the barbarian now when she was least equipped to handle it. Already drunk on strong ale the feline warrior was slipping past that as she took in the rising miasma of male arousal.
There was a cheer when she finally opened her muzzle and a grunt from the half-orc as he took the opportunity to shove his cock in as deep as it would go. Thrull's new feline face was longer than it used to be but she still felt the tip of the male's cock grazing the back of her throat as the heavy length rested against her tongue. And if the scent of a male had made her let her guard down, the taste of one made her surrender. Her lips latched on as the Tabaxi moaned around her mouthful, swirling her tongue in a clear lack of any experience but with enough enthusiasm to make the greenskin stuffed in her muzzle grunt in approval.
Thrull the mighty had never sucked anyone's cock, but visions of women sucking him off surface now and guided the movements of the cat in heat the once proud warrior had become. The crowd egged her on and began to jostle for a better view as she began to slide her mouth back and forth, a rumble building in the proud feline chest until it came out as a half-muffled purr. She swallowed as best as she could, feeling the green cocktip in the back of her throat each time as she did as hands roamed her body. Men reached down to play with her firm breasts and soon enough Thrull felt her wrist being grabbed, the deft feline hands guided to hard shafts that felt hot against her sensitive paw pads.
The cat purred, sucked licked and stroked, the indignation lost in the rising tide of lust born on an instinctive need that was only fueled further by the presence of males desperate to mate her. The cock in her left hand began to throb as she stroked and squeezed it blindly, the unseen male it belonged to groaning out and calling her a whore before she felt warm streaks spray across her sleek body and soak into the spotted fur. The male was teased for going off so fast and quickly pushed away, the cum-smeared hand of the moaning cat guided to another hard and eager cock.
She'd stroked two more males to release before the half-orc rutting her face reached his limit. Grabbing her head with two meaty hands he began to hump into her muzzle, undeterred even by the thought of those teeth as the tip of his cock beat the back of Thrull's gullet. When the orc drove himself in he exploded with such force that the kneeling feline was caught off guard, choking on the gush of warm goo as the green male's balls pulsed and sent rope after rope down her throat. Finally realizing the cat's distress the male pulled out before he was even done, aiming and stroking his cock as he painted white lines across the spotted face of the hacking and coughing feline. Before she'd caught her breath Thrull felt hands grabbing her under her arms, pulling her to her feet before those were swept up from under her and she was spilled onto a table. Looking down the white trail of her chest and belly she saw the dragonborn from earlier, naked and sporting an impressive and inhuman erection.
"Well kitten you've showed us quite a lot of your body, so it's time to finally see this too..." he said, grabbing a fistful of her skirt before yanking it clean off her. Looking down Thrull could just catch a glimpse of her sex and the wet sheen on that part of her lacking fur. Fuck, this slut needs a cock bad! was his first thought before he remembered who that wet slit belonged to. The muscular reptile seemed to have a similar idea when he grabbed each slender leg behind the knee and splayed the shapely limbs wide apart.
Thrull had just a moment to get a good glimpse of the long, draconic tongue sliding out of the scaled male's muzzle before he drove his head between her thighs and pushed his tongue against her dripping slit. The momentary sensation of the slimy appendage against her cleft was electric, but when it pushed past her folds and sank in Thrull felt her claws extend and dig into the worn wood she was resting on.
The dragonborn was pushing her legs back, lifting her rear off the tabletop and angling it up so that he could reach as deep as he could, which in the tabaxi's opinion was deep. She had nothing to compare it to but there was something stunning about the way this male had just invaded her body, and even more so the way her body was reacting. She could feel her puffed-up tail lashing and with her paw-like feet in the air she could see her toes curling with every lick and every wriggle of the reptilian tongue as the powerful male pressed the blocky muzzle against her slit, the sensation of hard scales against tender skin only serving to drive the feline wilder.
Hands reached out to fondle the breasts spread across her chest and Thrull found herself arching her back and pushing her chest out towards the grasping hands, her eyes spotting a dozen cocks being stroked and pointed at her. She reached out, drunkenly and with her arms trembling but the patrons were kind enough to guide the paws to twitching, throbbing erections. She barely felt the cocks in her hands or the hands on her body, her attention draining inwards to the spot just under her belly where the draconic male's tongue was twisting like an angry viper.
Past the hands groping her tits and tugging on her nipples the panting Tabaxi saw her pristine white belly, and the way the finally layered muscles under that fur were clenching. The male between her thighs could see it to, and it only seemed to spur him to try and reach deeper even though Thrull could feel her tunnel stretching around the massive tongue of the dragonborn. As her stomach clenched her insides squeezed down, making the plunging tongue seem even thicker, the sensation of it rubbing around inside her more vivid. Soon her belly wasn't clenching but quaking, her breath coming in gasps that rose in pitch until it all broke.
She mewled like a kitten as her jaw clenched and sharp teeth ground against each other, her spotted hips bucking up and smearing her juices across the scaled muzzle of the male eating her out. The others laughed and cheered but Thrull barely heard a word above the pounding of her own heart. She waited for the tidal wave of pleasure to ebb, like it always had when it was him rutting some pretty young thing or letting a girl bounce up and down on his cock. But the male between her legs kept licking and the feline body kept responding, still riding the crest of one climax as another. Thrull the Savage had enjoyed watching his females moan and writhe as he took them, but Thrull the she-cat was having trouble grasping the possibility of cumming several times in a row. _No wonder women are crazy!_she mused, feeling her own grasp on sanity slip as her body surrendered to the male pushing her towards that dizzying peak again.
Thrull was still riding out her second climax when the tongue withdrew from her quivering cunny, gasping for breath as she tried to keep her shaky hands wrapped around hard, throbbing shafts, unheeding of the white streaks arcing across her body every now and again as a spectator blew his load over her fur. The hulking reptile with his muzzle glistening in feline honey straightened before grasping the Tabaxi's hips and pulling her back. Thrull felt her bouncy behind just barely clear the edge of the table, a powerful reptilian claw sliding under her rump and lifting it up as the other scaly hand griped a leaky draconic cock.
"Well girl, you've spent half the night bending our ear about what this body could take... so you're going to spend the other half proving it..." he said, slapping the ridged shaft down against her sex, the wet smack of flesh on flesh making the others leer as the panting feline tried to string a sapient thought together.
For the first time in memory Thrull felt vulnerable, and in a distinctly feminine way as the ides of being fucked by this crowd any way they wanted to have her sank in. She took her hands off the cocks she'd been squeezing and stroking, and tried to scramble up into a sitting position, but the two climaxes left her more drained than she'd realized, and both the patrons of the seedy tavern and her own desires inflamed by the draconic tongue kept her from truly lashing out. Instead she struggled with what little strength she had, mumbling drunkenly for them all to stop even as hands gripped her ankles and spread her open or the dragonborn brute aiming his ridged cock against her dripping folds.
There was a thrust of scaled hips, a meaty smack of a hard body hitting something soft and the distinct yowl of an alley cat in spring as Thrull's sex was penetrated for the first time. Having the scaled thug's tongue in her slit had felt intense for the once proud barbarian, but she wasn't ready for the sensation of having a male hilt every inch of an inhumanly large cock into her tight passage. She barely heard the reptile hiss in satisfaction, barely heard the crowd sheer at the sight of her snug slit wrapping around the purplish monster buried all the way in it.
It had been so violent that it was almost like a stab, but instead of the welling of familiar pain there was just a sharp sting lost in the sensation of... fulness. Thrull could feel her body straining around the reptilian invader, could feel the male's pulse between her legs and more than anything she could feel the slimy- ridged surface of his cock as he ground himself against her stuffed slit. When her breath and voice came back she could do no more than pant and mewl, wishing at once for the dragonborn to keep perfectly still, to pull out of her, and to her shame wishing for the strange cock to start pumping her until the fire she felt building in her loins was quenched.
Her hands pawed feebly at the air and the barbarian wondered where her strength had gone. Female or not, she knew this body was strong enough that she could have taken any male in this room in a fight, and even the whole tavern if they got her made enough to stir a berserker's rage. But flat on her back with hands groping her chest and a thick cock slowly starting to slide in and out of her straining sex the spotted cat couldn't muster the will to resist, let alone to fight.
Every plunge of the scaled brute's cock in her was intense as the tapered tip grazed her sensitive walls as it slid in, squelching along until it bottomed out inside her. And the withdrawal of the thick hard flesh made her mewl as her sex slung to every thick ridge along the reptilian length as almost all of it was pulled out before being driven in. Her legs were spread wide apart, leaving her completely open for the dragonborn's thrusts, the smacks of scaled flesh against soft fur and softer skin growing wetter and more obscene with every second.
And when the weakness abated and her body once again found the strength to move any idea of stopping this was gone. Thrull was writhing, his tail was lashing and the powerful feline back was arched the way a human spine couldn't have managed, but there was no denial that the she-cat was lost in the desperate desire to mate. The dragonborn thug's pumping grew more violent, his own thick tail undulating behind him as muscles tensed under his scales, the draconic body throwing everything it had, every ounce of strength and stamina into the act of breeding the yowling car stretched out on the table.
Thrull had been lost to reason even before her first climax around the invading length, the thick ridged cock pummeling her sex even as the feline femininity tried to milk it dry. Dull reptilian claws dug into the fur and flesh of her hips as the grunting reptile pulled her back, rutting her with a force that would have had a more delicate woman screaming in pain. But Thrull's boasts about the strength of her new body weren't mere boasts, and all she felt from the brutal pistoning was a soreness that made her desperate for more.
She'd lost count of the times she'd shuddered in ecstasy before she felt the cock in her start to swell and throb. The ridges flared out and every pull-out had the feline moaning louder and louder until the tip that had been pounding away at the entrance of her womb all this time started spraying a deluge of draconic seed into the quivering belly. The sensation was strange, but some part of her psyche recognized and welcomed the notion of a strong male leaving his seed in her, enough to make Thrull grind her hips against the growling reptile. His seed seeped around the girth plugging her sex even before he was done, and by the time he pulled out thick globs of gooey white cum were oozing from the splayed folds, dripping along the quivering pink pucker and soaking into the fur at the base of her tail.
When the half-orc took the dragonborn's place and Thrull saw the thick green cock twitching she was surprised to realize she hadn't had enough, that this body had a strange hunger that was only stirred by the presence of aroused males. When the greenskin threw her ankles against his broad shoulders the Tabaxi just lay with her breasts heaving and her paws at her sides, waiting for the blunt green glans to slip into the mess between her thighs. The flash of tusks as the brute leered at her should have been a hint, and when the blunt tip of his cock pressed into a patch of cum-smeared skin below her sex, it dawned on the cat what her latest mate had in mind.
What had started as a mewl when the blunt tip started to pry her pucker open ended as a yowl when half of the green mongrel's cock plunged into something tighter even than her sex had been minutes ago. Her teeth flashed as she grimaced, her tail puffed up and her claws digging rents on the worm-eaten wood of the table holding her, the muscles in her rear fighting to keep the green-skinned male's cock out even as he drove the last few inches in, thrust by thrust.
Having her ass stuffed to the brim was forcing out the mess the previous male had left in her slit, and as the orc pumped away at the clenching pucker the white slime oozed over his shaft and made his work easier, while making Thrull's efforts to resist the sodomy futile. With her ankles resting on the half-orc's shoulders her rear was angled perfectly for the thick green length plunging in and out of her, the pain of having her virginal pucker stretched fading and leaving her lust to rush in and fill the gap. The green hips slapped against her cheeks with every thrust and her beasts bounced wildly as the grinning brute took her tail.
Thrull had been staring at the ceiling, fighting to get her breath back even as every plunge of the green cock forced it from her lungs when a scrabbling sound made her look down. It was a kobold, a scrawny little thing resembling a goblin, a lizard and a rat at the same time, and it was a male one. The opportunistic little creep swung a leg over the prone feline's trim stomach and practically drooled as he grabbed her full breasts with tiny hands, pushing them together before plunging his cock between them.
The crowd burst into laughter and soon started cheering the grunting little creature as he began to hump the feline tits with the energy and passion of a jackrabbit, his tiny clawed fingers digging into the soft flesh enveloping every inch of his slender cock but for the purplish head peeking out every once in a while from the white-furred cleavage. Thrull didn't have to look at the little creep for lone when her head was tilted back, her eyes catching the sight of a heavy sack before a cock was pushed into her muzzle.
Both time and Thrull's vision blurred over and over as the cat's mouth, breasts and ass were taken by three separate males, the feline so far gown down the spiral of drunken lust that she couldn't tell how many times she'd climaxed while being used like a cum-dump by any male who wanted a go. The kobold had sprayed his load once but hadn't so much as slowed his humping, the cum he'd shot soaking into the fur of the Tabaxi's slender neck even as the cock of the man fucking her muzzle made it bulge out whenever he slid deep enough in for his balls to slap her nose. The two were still using her when the orc blew his load up her quivering tailhole, slipping out of the gaping ring and leaving the cat to gush his cum as another male took his place, pushing into her slit and making the cat moan around the shaft pistoning in and out of her mouth.
Once they were done the cat was barely clinging to consciousness, and didn't so much as whimper as she was lifted off the table and had her shaky legs swept up from under her. She was leaning back against the chest of a grinning gnoll as the bestial male held her under each knee, lifting the willowy feline and lowering her again once the tip of his red cock was prodding her oozing pucker. Once she was sitting on his erection the bard who'd first had the courage to grope her slid himself into her slit and the two worked in tandem to breed the moaning feline. She was sure she'd lost consciousness as two cocks worked in tandem to breed both her cunny and her tail, coming to only when the gnoll's cock seemed to swell up in her to the point that a stinging pain cut through the pleasure clouding her mind. The bestial male was still firmly embedded up her ass and seeding her when the musician was replaced by a leering half-elf who's girthy cock was an odd match for his slender body. The smooth-cheeked male took a perverse pleasure in tugging on her nipples as he pumped her cunny, but pleasure overshadowed pain and drove the feline back into blissful oblivion...
*******
Thrull woke to the sound of gulls squawking and fighting over fish offal as the sliver of sun rose out of the distant spot where sea met sky. The feline cursed under her breath at the attempt to squint at the sliver of sun, her mouth feeling strangely slimy until the events from last night rose to the surface in her aching head. This wasn't Thrull the Savage's first time waking up like this after a night of serious drinking, but he'd never been stripped naked and left quite so sore and... sticky. The streaks of cum across his fur were dry by now but there was still a wet mess between his legs and under his tail, the long limbs shaking as the warrior forced them to take his weight. His ears swiveled at the sound of approaching footsteps, picking out a familiar voice.
"... is exactly the sort of place he always... of for the love of Heaven!" he heard Pia cry out, her high voice driving into his skull like a spike as he struggled with the headache that a night of drinking usually brought on.
"I... I know. I lost my bra..." the barbarian muttered, wondering if he could talk the druid into healing his headache before the indignant mage launched into another lecture...