Razasha the Horny, Chapter Four, Babes, Bollocks and Bandits

[Zapan99]

Content Warning: The second half of this chapter includes potentially triggering themes, like sexual assault, non-consensual bondage, graphic castration and threats made on an infant. The graphic material will start after the ** sign, and a summary with extreme elements removed will be included in the next chapter for comprehension. The reader’s discretion is advised.

Author’s note: Delilah the innkeeper is played by (in my mind's eye only, this is in no way endorsed by the performer mentioned here): Trisha Hershberger, specifically with her 2017 post-pregnancy voluptuous body.

Razasha had troubles trying on the patchy linen shirt that Freya the dwarven shield maiden had just ripped off the back of the unluckiest peeping tom that foolishly decided to spy on the bathing Slay Belles. Despite the garment looking ample enough on the terrified teenage farm hand, once on Razasha’s back, the shirt looked two sizes too small, with sleeves barely coming past her elbows and smushed mounds of green boobage spilling forth from the front gusset, ready to burst at the seams. “Mhhh, It’s a bit tight around my chest…” said the blushing Razasha, while trying not to stare too much at the naked bodies of the three young lads that took a rough tumble down a steep river bank. Balls still aching from their misadventure and unceremoniously stripped of all their clothes, the pitiful trio of young lads was shivering in the evening breeze. Their shriveled dicks covered shamefully with both hands, they provided a less than impressive display of human virility to the curious orc vixen. “They must be quite young, I mean, their… parts are not grown yet, right?” asked the naive Razasha, to the sonorous delight of the dwarven twins. “Hahaha! Good one, orc! Ye hear that lads, the big green bitch will still be hungry after devouring yer puny sausages! Will she bite off yer shriveled nuts fer dessert, then?” roared Freya, clearly exaggerating the ferocity of the confused orc girl to terrorize the young pervs. “Truly Razasha, yer never been intimate with humans before. Those three are indeed small, but I’ve seen way worse, in me days!” A shadow passed on the expression of Frigg, when she locked eyes with her miffed twin sister Freya, immediately regretting her words that killed the light-hearted mood of the moment. “Freya, I didn’t mean to… ah, nevermind. What are we to do with those three piglets, now?” Aelith joined up with the group, after skipping on the mossy rocks across the ford with the grace of a nymph, only wearing a towel to cover her body, just like the rest of the girls.

Crouching right next to the trio of shivering farm lads, the dainty elf pouted, “Awww, did those big scary women scare my little pervs?” Somewhat reassured by the presence of the cute elf girl, the nervous boy that previously failed to cum started to grovel at her feet, “I beg you, fair miss, do not let those monsters eat me and the guys alive, please!” Pinching her ruby lips to avoid laughing out loud, the pale little sorcerer seductively reached for the fold of her towel that covered her dainty breasts, producing a small glass vial topped with a cork. “That will depend on you, my lovely. Care to play the skin flute again, just for me?” Despite the strange situation, the young lad duly obliged, and helped by a little show of legs from Aelith, that earned annoyed eye rolls from the twins, he soon had filled the vessel to the brim.

Failing to hand over his gooey contribution to the elf without spilling a bit of it on the bottleneck, he was met with a bright smile and a voracious lick of his semen drip rolling on the glass by the diminutive sorcerer. Aelith rolled her tongue in her mouth while savouring his youthful spunk, before suddenly delivering a devastating knee to his exposed pink testicles, lifting his heels off the ground. -FWAP- “Maybe now you’ll remember that women of all sorts are much more than just fap material.” said the elf waif, right as her linen towel dropped to her feet, revealing her pristine alabaster body and her perfectly hairless little cunt, while the lad had dropped on his side, clutching his scrotum with both hands, eyes watering. “Whoops, let me get that,” she said covering herself, before adding “Now where were we, oh yeah, Mass Confusion!”

Enshrouded in stormy clouds, the sun was already setting behind the tallest peaks, casting shadows down in the valley where the Slay Belles were once more on the road. With a sweet worried expression, the now almost modestly dressed Razasha was looking over her shoulder, down to the river bank, where three young lads offered a most peculiar display. “Are they really going to be alright?” she asked, genuinely concerned. Splashing and moving erratically about, still naked in the shallow waters across the ford, the three little pervs looked like the most unfortunate creature ever conceived. Left cross-eyed and drooling by Aelith’s confusion spell, each one of them tried to walk in a different direction, not realizing that a length of silk rope joined them by the scrotums, periodically letting out pained yelps when tugged back, like some kind of nightmarish conjoined entity born with three bodies, six legs, no brains and only one nutsack.

Not even looking back, Aelith answered mischievously, “Them? I guess we’ll be far away, when they’ll tire of playing tug-of-war. As I told you, my dear Razasha, the trick is to get males to follow their lower brains only.”

When the Slay Belles finally came in view of the little thatched-roofed traveller’s inn that offered the very last available bed and dinner for adventurers entering the wildlands, the party had already lit their brass lanterns. Not for their own comfort, mind you, as given their racial background each of the girls could still fare quite well in the blue hours after the sunset, the dwarven twins being perfectly able to see like in broad daylight, Razasha relying more on her keen sense of smell, and Aelith on her sharp ears. No, if their lanterns were lit it was out of concern for humans, those backwards frontier-dwellers often freaked out over nothing, especially unannounced nocturnal travellers.

“A green moon rises. Spunk will be spilled this night.” said the diminutive sorcerer in jest, comically standing behind her towering thrall, while the dancing shadows of her lantern outlined the bouncing ass cheeks of the voluptuous orc girl. Kind-hearted and naive Razasha inquired, “Sorry mistress, I must be blocking the view for you, don’t you want to walk at the front?” Frigg tried to help the green vixen to understand the elf’s cryptic omen, “What Aelith is trying to say is yer outfit is still… problematic.” explained the berserker, with a twinge of amusement. Freya, as per usual, delivered the news in the bluntest way possible, “Yer exposed green ass is going to drive the inn patrons crazy, if ye don’t cover yerself better, orc!” Blushing with a lovely shade of teal, the embarrassed Razasha tried to pull down her new linen shirt to make it go below her bulbous derriere, the fabric stubbornly refusing to stay down, being lifted each time her colossal pair of green udders bounced as she walked. “But, but, ah, n-nothing else we got from the lads would fit on me…” said the orc girl, visibly complexed by her exuberant femininity. “Aye, we might have ta use a bedroll to tarp yer mule’s ass!” quipped Freya, without any hint of tactfulness.

And so, after a bit of fiddling with Frigg’s bedroll, a foot long of rope and Aelith’s rain cloak brooch, for the first time in her life Razasha had to learn to walk with a skirt. “Why couldn’t I keep my loincloth under there, mistress, this is… hum, rather drafty.” said the blushing orc girl, looking down at the makeshift skirt clasped around her waist, that barely covered her knees and hinted at her muscular thigh on the slit side. “Nonsense, my dear, the way this thing would dig into your badonkadonk under a skirt would be even more lewd!” said the elf sorcerer, twirling the orc’s loincloth around her index finger, while admiring the allure of her reluctant model. “Still, yer not the one that’ll have to sleep in this bedroll, if they happen to kick us out…” noted Frigg, at the sight of Razasha nervously pressing the front of her skirt against her intimacy with her hand, outlining a hefty cameltoe against the tweed fabric.

Aelith suddenly had this bratty smile on her sultry lips, that her colleagues had learned to dread. “Why of course, how come I didn’t think of that before! I must have the formula in the footnotes of my grimoire. I seldom use it, a shame really!” said the elf sorcerer with her usual babbling cadence, while rummaging through Razasha’s heavy kit on her tippy toes, elbows deep in a black leather bag. Producing an amethyst suede bound book that only displayed a silver monogram on the cover, the pale hands of the elf sorcerer flipped its pages with dexterity, until her index finger stopped on a folio depicting various creatures surrounded by squiggly scripts. “Let’s see, octopus, ogre, oni, ha! there we are: orc! Mhh-mhh, I see. Classic sequence with an extra movement at the end, dead simple!” concluded Aelith, already slamming her grimoire shut, looking at Razasha with a devious smile. “You do love it, when we play together with makeup, right my dear?” Razasha, remembering the few times during her trip when the little elf smeared a red powder on her lips and outlined her eyes with a campfire coal, while calling her silly pet names, mumbled an hesitant, “Huh, ye-eees-s mistress?” Looking positively delighted, the already casting elf, with shimmering tendrils forming around her dancing fingers, cooed, “Amazing, just think of this as a total makeover, my dear!” and in a dazzle of silver sparkles, she added “Polymorph, form of... human female.”

When Delilah heard a knocking on her door, she gladly left the smoke-filled rowdy main hall in a hurry, readjusting her little Lottie that was drooling on her shoulder, to get a breath of fresh air and welcome potentially life-saving customers. Opening the creaking front door with a weary smile, she said, “Welcome to Gravel Ford Inn, my name’s Delilah, what can I do for you?” to the colorful bunch huddled under her porch, as a fine summer rain was starting to drip from the thatch roof. “Down here, me lady.” said Frigg the dwarf to distract the innkeeper from her colleagues. “We’re asking for yer room and board for the night, our party of four will then leave early morning. We pay gold and make no mess.” Delilah looked at Frigg with a strange look of hope and relief, saying “Two things I’d like to see more around here!” while rocking the three months old baby resting against her shoulder. The innkeeper invited in her new patrons, stepping aside in the cloakroom to let them hang their kit. Frigg entered first, hanging her battle axe on a weapon rack along the wall, followed by Freya who did the same with her warhammer, next came Aelith who did a charming elven curtsy bow, and finally Razasha entered the room. With the goofiest smile on her rosy face, her chestnut curly hair all frizzled by the rain, she loudly jabbered “Hello, good night madam! My name is Raza… I mean my name is Rachel, and you have a cute baby!” Delilah looked up and down at the strange tree house of a girl that smiled at her and her baby. Her cute new patron was as tall and broad as a mountain lumberjack, dressed in a patchy boy shirt that did very little to hide hefty breasts that rivalled her own milk-filled mammaries, her long legs barely covered by a way too short skirt, that awfully looked like a cart seat plaid, held around her waist by a knotted rope. The innkeeper thought the girl must have had an accident with her real dress caused by her time of the month, but refrained from saying as much. Delilah immediately felt endeared by that tall goofball, and tried to make her feel at home. “Welcome to my inn, miss Rachel! Say, you must be drenched by the rain. I can go with you upstairs and lend you one of the old dresses my poor mama used to wear. Surely you don’t want to sit in the hall like that?” Razasha gave a confused look to her mistress Aelith, that nodded reassuringly, “We’ll wait for you near the hearth, my dear!” she said to her friend “Rachel,” that was already rushing next to their host, and with hopeful sparkles in her hazel eyes, asked “Can I hold your little baby, madam please, please?” earning a surprised chuckle from Delilah, “Heh sure girl, her name’s Lottie, by the way.”

Razasha was elated. Up until now, Aelith’s magic meant nothing but pain and confusion to her, but when the sorcerer’s polymorph spell engulfed her in those dazzling lights, a moment prior, she felt strangely at ease, as if suddenly reconciled with an ever-conflicting part of herself. First, she thought the spell had shoved her flat on her back, but she quickly realised that her legs were suddenly too weak to support the weight of the party’s kit strapped to her back. While trying to unladen herself, she noticed her shirt was now less tight around her chest, and when she touched her still very imposing boobs, she let out a surprised yelp, noticing her hands had turned pink. The wry sorcerer was standing over her, travel mirror in hand, asking her thrall, “So what do you think of your new look, Razasha?” Catching her reflection in the small silver disk held in the lantern lights, she was amazed to see a strangely familiar rosy human girl with luscious carmine lips and lovely hazel eyes, that smiled with the most lovely set of perfectly aligned pearly white teeth. “Is this really, I… she is me, this is me?” Razasha felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude towards her mistress, and in a gesture she would never have dared before, she grabbed the surprised elf by both of her cheeks, causing her lips to pout comically, before giving her a passionate kiss on the mouth. “Mmmmwahh! Mistress Aelith made me pretty! Miss Frigg, miss Freya! I’m a pretty girl now, look!” The diminutive sorcerer had turned beet-red up to her ears, totally caught by surprise by her thrall’s demonstration of affection, and judging by her lack of protestation, she didn’t hate it either, even if the roaring laughters of the dwarven twins felt like icepicks to her elven ears.

As she was climbing the stairs, following Delilah to her personal bedroom, “Rachel” was still adjusting to her new human form. She remained as curvy and stacked as before, but her whole frame was “smaller” now. She still towered over the rest of the Slay Belles, but when standing next to Delilah, she was only half-a-head taller, where a few minutes before, she would have had to look down on her, and mind her head while passing the door. Plus her baby smelled nice, her baby was the cutest little thing, and Delilah wasn’t afraid one bit, when she asked to hold her daughter. Now this nice lady would give her a nice dress like the one she was wearing, with frills and gussets and things she had no idea what they were, except that they were lady things, lady things that made her happy. 

Delilah was looking at her little daughter, this was the first time she ever fell asleep in someone’s arms. She said softly, “You know, miss Rachel, Lottie usually cries when someone else carries her, but for some reason she seems to really like you.” Again, the strange girl gave her a bright goofy smile, as if she was learning to emote with a brand new mouth. Why did these four have to knock on her door tonight, of all nights? Adventurers were not a rare sight, in this remote part of Tedora, but their visits were usually far enough apart that two groups missed each other by at least a week. When a second party asked to stay in, she had the excuse of having only so many rooms, and they went on camping near the ford. Yet, her current guests had been nothing but troubles, since they arrived three days ago. Delilah was painfully aware that she was a frail woman, tending to her own inn alone near the border with the wildlands, after the death of her old mother and the departure of her drunkard of husband, that deserted her six months ago for a job offer in the capital. He divorced her while she was expecting Lottie, through a coward’s letter, to leave no address behind. So tonight she decided to let those girls stay, hoping they would at least distract that band of rotten thieves with wandering hands, and maybe even give them a lesson they would not forget.

As soon as Aelith entered the main hall, following the dwarven twins, she felt the aura of another magic user. In her sharp mind, the elf sorcerer rapidly scanned the five shady men lounging about, drinking ale and playing cards in the large room, that immediately started to leer and make rude comments when the three adventurer girls passed between the round pinewood tables, on their way to the massive river rock fireplace. The elf sorcerer eliminated straight away the hulking brute that looked too brain-damaged to use magic, the two rugged hunters that still had rabbit hair all over their clothes, as well as the nasty cut-throat with aces under his belt that cheated right under their noses. Finally she was able to pinpoint the aura as belonging to the shadowy bearded figure of a gangly man in his sixties, with his hooded face tattooed in strange runes. He was smoking a long tobacco pipe next to an open window that caused rain to periodically wet the floor boards, when a gust of wind picked up from the raising storm outside. Despite her natural high elven abilities, Aelith had troubles identifying his school of magic. Could he be a summoner? No, his aura was too mottled, almost patchy around the crown chakra. His magic had to be earthly, with no divine component. Finally, she opted to rely on visual clues. A wolf pelt around his shoulders, naked feet covered in dirt, divination stones spilled on the table next to him, and a terrible personal hygiene that left no doubt, he was a fell druid. Aelith pried too much, the man eventually paid attention to her too, despite her esoteric precautions. He nodded politely, while behind him the branches of an oak rattled ominously against the glass. He knew that she knew, they could see each other clearly through the World Veil. When she proceeded to transmute Razasha to her new human form earlier, she had to burn more mana than expected, almost as if for a reason eluding her, the orc girl’s body was resisting her polymorph spell. Despite the recent contribution of the lads to her mana pool, Aelith could feel the magic backlash had strained her connexion to the aether flux, leaving her less attuned than her usual self for the night.

** Graphic content disclaimer.

Frigg and Freya had more immediate problems. One of the other men, the cheating knife thrower in a red leather jerkin, started to get chummy with the twins, asking them with vulgarity, “So, which one of you two stout ginger ales is going to suck my cock, tonight?” His long hooked nose dribbling with snot was parting a revolting smile full of jagged teeth. “Wipe yer snotty nose with da same hand you usually wank yerself to sleep with, thief. Me sister and I are not interested.” said Freya to the ugly ‘seducer’ while his gang was egging him on. “Fuck you, dwarf cunt!” he said, obviously butthurt at losing this verbal joust. “In ye dreams only,” answered Frigg, to the amusement of the gallery. The thief reached for his side dagger, only for Frigg to break his wrist with one of the cast-iron pokers that equipped the hearth. -SNAP- Quickly twirling her improvised weapon, she moved aside, to reveal her sister Freya, using a still burning log she picked up with her gloved hands as a battering ram that pinned the pelvis of the thief against the mantle leg, totally obliterating his manhood in a sizzle of leather pants and crushed testicles, while the whole structure of the hearth trembled. -BREUM- 

The ugly thief fell to his knees, his face twisted in horror but unable to produce an audible sound, only to be grabbed by the scruff of his neck by Freya, who promptly tossed him head first in the flames. His body still twitching, the dwarf shield maiden unsheathed two of the dying man’s chest knives, and asked coldly “Which one of ye fookers is next?”

Razasha was still upstairs with Delilah and her sleeping baby, undressing herself shamelessly in front of the innkeeper that had laid old bodices and dresses on her bed, after getting them out of a chest. The young mother was surprised to see her sculptural guest was wearing no underwear, her supple rosy skin bearing no marks, save for a strange tattoo around her neck linked to an even weirder pendant. “By the gods, miss Rachel, do you really stroll about like that without any intimate comfort, or did someone steal all your clothes while you were bathing?” Taken by surprise by the strangely accurate intuition of the innkeeper, Razasha mumbled “Huh, we met three lads with fishing rods, and…” Delilah threw her hands in sign of understanding, “The miller’s boys, those three are always up to no good! Oh, no no no, before long they’ll end up hanged, or worse! But why didn’t you say so earlier? You don’t need just a dress, my girl, you need support too!” she said, gesturing at her own heavy mammaries, that leaked milk through her dress. Razasha smiled like a little girl, giggling “Tit baskets!” to the confused innkeeper. A moment after, the two heard the violent commotion below, that resonated in the creaking rafters of the roof.

In the main hall, all hell broke loose. Armed with a stool and a knife, Freya was flipping one of the heavy round pinewood table to block the assaults and barrage of improvised projectiles thrown by the four bandits still alive. Her sister Frigg was flanking the delicate elf sorcerer, smashing tankards of ale and candle sticks thrown at their heads with a bent iron poker, the berserker was buying time for Aelith to cast an offensive spell. Right when dark clouds of magic energy were forming around her pale hands, she was hit in the back by the antlers of a stag that had slid off the mantlepiece, immediately losing her concentration, her most potent spell fizzling out. Seizing the opportunity, the gangly fell druid finished to mumble a dark incantation, before roots and vines started to pour through the open window, breaking panes of glass and tearing the frame apart, rapidly darting through the room, grasping the Slay Belles by the feet, tangling their weapons, and locking their bodies in a thorny prison. The druid approached Aelith and with his grimy fingers, he gagged the elf sorcerer with a leather strap, before slapping her violently across the face, making her nose bleed. “You’ll pay for the loss of my thief, elf bitch.”

The other bandits rejoiced at seeing the girls defeated. The two hunters that were throwing furniture at them earlier approached the Dwarven twins with lust and malice in their eyes, while the brute was promptly sent upstairs by the druid. The oldest of the two hunters, while untying his pants and carefully getting around Frigg, said “The thief’s cock wasn’t good enough for you, how about this one?” and he slapped his flaccid dick on Frigg’s forehead, resting his brown hairy balls atop her red mane. “Look boss, I trapped a new monster with my cock, a legendary dwarficorn!” he joked, while propping his cock to mime a unicorn. The fuming berserker tried to grab onto his manhood in vain, her hands still locked by the twisted vines that creaked under her efforts. Laughing at the crude joke, the other hunter fumbled while trying to remove Freya’s breastplate, visibly aroused. “Her huge tits will feel great around my dick!” he panted, right as the shield maiden spat in his mouth.

Razasha was brought by force in front of the entangled Slay Belles, after the huge brute of the gang climbed the stairs to catch the women hiding in the bedroom. Since Aelith had been hurt, the poor Razasha was experiencing her usual thrall pains, hunched over in agony holding her painful lady parts, her scarab pendant glowing dark red around her neck. She could barely walk downstairs alongside Delilah, that held up her crying daughter pressed against her bosom. She was then put on her knees by the brute under the furious gaze of her party, that thrashed in vain against their vegetal restraints. The hulking bandit, all clad in dark leather, with a studded vest that did little to hide his prominent beer belly, was shuffling inside his pants to get his cock out of his leather codpiece. His big shaved head sweaty with arousal and exhaustion. “You’re going to taste my dick while your bitch party watches, you big slut! And then, my buddies will have fun with mommy dearest, over there.” The brute grabbed the collar of her new dress and ripped the fabric apart, freeing her heaving white breasts that were now tipped by the puffiest rosy nipples. While the other bandits cheered the brute, he inserted his half-flaccid penis into Razasha’s unwilling mouth, holding her head by pulling hard on her curly mane, making her feel utterly defiled. Freya shouted, “Bite his fooking cock off, Razasha!” using her proper name for the first time. Aelith, her right eye almost closed by a rapidly swelling black eye, gave Razasha a haggard look, her mouth still cruelly gagged by the leather strap that caused her to drool. Looking at her left hand propped up in a painful contortion, she bit hard on her gag and managed to snap her fingers together, earning an intrigued look from the druid. “What are you trying to accomplish, bitch?” he said, while punching her in her flat stomach, causing the elf to dry heave spit. Aelith slowly looked back up at her torturer while hiccuping a sinister laugh, gesturing a victorious middle finger at him. Over her right hand a ghostly mouth was forming in mid-air, similar in shape to her lovely pouty lips that clearly pronounced “Emergency Contingency: Greater Dispel Magic.”

A blast of anti-magic whooshed in all directions, like a great gust of wind, freeing the Slay Belles from their vine shackles that withered away instantly, while the brute was screaming at the top of his lungs, “Haaaaaaa! My balls, my fucking balls!” He was still clutching a handful of Razasha’s hair, and looked down at a very pissed and very green orc girl, that had both of his testicles skewered on her lower fangs, dripping a mixture of semen and blood. With a furious look in her darkened hazel eyes, she proceeded to chomp on his half erect dick, mangling it inch by inch, until nothing remained of it but a pulpy mess. Grabbing onto his punctured ball sack with her big green hands, she pressed hard until his testicles popped out of the skin, before standing up with his balls still planted on her fangs. The chords snapped right at the base of the bloody epididymis, before she loomed large over the bandit brute, that now frothed at the mouth and convulsed in a state of shock. Razasha started to talk, using an assertive deep voice that scared everyone around her, friend like foe, “Tonight I was made pretty, made a new friend and got a nice dress. Tonight you and your friends took all that away from me, and I’m NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT!” With her scarab pendant now emitting a strange white glow, she punched the passed out brute so hard in the mouth that his neck snapped horribly, turning his head around in his back with a bloody broken jaw to face his terrified acolytes, before he nosedived dead and smashed a table in half with his flopping hulking mass.

Taking advantage of the distraction the Slay Belles enacted their revenge. Roaring like a lioness, Frigg unleashed her berserker rage, grabbing at the hunter’s ball sack still resting on her forehead. Her mighty grip almost instantly popped his right nut in a revolting -SQUELCH- sound before the guy even started to scream. The hunter fell prone with his legs apart, while the dwarven fury was still grabbing onto his mangled manhood. She started to pummel his crotch with an insane amount of force, alternating a flurry of blows with her gloved fists. Lifted off the ground by the impacts the hunter’s hips were shaking with tremors. His left testicle soon exploded, with a muffled -CRUNCH- followed by the sound of his pelvic bones shattering. Not content with castrating her already passed out abuser, she let out a shrill shout, and pulled on his penis so hard she totally degloved its skin, before throwing the mangled organ right in the druid’s face. The old man fell flat on his back next to Aelith, still lying prone on the floor boards. The younger hunter didn’t have better chances facing Freya. When the vines withered, she almost knocked him cold with a magistral headbutt that shattered his nose and all of his front teeth. Holding his bloodied face in his hands, he didn’t see the shield maiden when she grabbed onto his legs, to start stomping on his crotch with increasing force, pounding her steel-toed boot in his lap like a dwarven sledgehammer. The gorget of her armor had come undone, showing her hefty freckled tits bouncing in rhythm until one of her pink nipples popped out. Noticing her wardrobe malfunction she asked “Is that what ye wanted ta see, ye fookin’ asshole?” to her whimpering would-be rapist, before he passed out on the floor.

Frigg snapped out of her berserker rage and rushed to the aid of Aelith, holding up the small wounded sorcerer in her arms, as the fell druid tried to get back to his feet. Before they could say a word the looming shadow of Razasha was on them, her imposing muscular frame tensed with anger. The druid, still on the ground, shouted a cantrip that instantly turned his skin to oak bark, before rolling on his side to avoid the mighty stomping foot of Razasha, that splintered one of the floorboards, less than a second after the druid’s head had left that spot. She looked terrifying, as if returning to her natural form had awoken her savage instincts. The druid immediately started to cast his next spell, while Freya was stabbing his sides with a knife in vain, only managing to bend the tip of her blade while shaving away chips of bark.

Then something weird happened. Next to the enraged Razasha, the younger hunter that was passed out on the floor since Freya’s stomping of his balls suddenly woke up, ululating his unbearable male pain as the orc girl’s scarab pendant started to open its wings and thrum, glowing bright like a firefly. Right as the druid conjured lightning around his hands, ready to strike down every target around him, Razasha’s pendant beamed a ray of white light aimed straight at his groin. His testicles started to swell up grotesquely, his bark skin spell cracking and splintering around his overly enlarged gonads, as the orc girl roared with all her fangs out, her eyes ablaze with the same white light. Without having the time to think, the druid instinctively covered his crotch with both of his hands, before realizing with horror his lightning spell was still active. In an explosion of sparks, the druid’s body was propelled towards the ceiling, his enlarged balls exploding in a mist of red gore, before he hit the floor dead, an expression of absolute agony imprinted on his contorted face.

When the Slay Belles came back to their senses in the middle of the blood-splattered room, Razasha was back to her usual meek state, sat on the floor in her tattered dress with her legs folded, crying at the sight of her wounded master Aelith, that Frigg held in her arms. In all the confusion, the younger hunter had escaped, his bloody footsteps leading outside the inn. Rushing outside, the Slay Belles found him holding Delilah and her baby at the point of his knife. “Don’t make another step, or the little girl gets it!” he said with difficulty, holding the innkeeper by the neck. Freya sneered menacingly, “Let her go, ye scum, or I’ll finish busting yer coward’s balls.” The hunter, bleeding profusely from his nose and still walking gingerly from the beating his balls took, was slow to react. That was more than enough for Delilah to elbow him in the stomach, before swiveling her hips aside and firmly punch him in the crotch with the back of her hand. “Yargl!” yelped the hunter, as his already bruised left ball caved in, with a wet -SPROTCH- that made the hunter sink to his knees, eyes watering. 

The innkeeper rushed towards the big green silhouette of Razasha, that suddenly realised she was not a cute human girl anymore. “No-ooo, please I’ll scare the baby, don’t look at me!” Delilah gently placed her hand on the orc girl’s shoulder, saying softly, “Just look at my little Lottie, Razasha, if that is your true name.” The crying baby wiped away her tears with the back of her little fists, sobbing hesitantly before she recognized Razasha’s soft hazel eyes. Lottie started playing with the orc girl’s tusks, grabbing strands of her curly hair in her little hands. “Pink or green, she likes you the same.” said her mother, bringing tears of joy to the eyes of the tall orc girl. “I-huh, I’m sorry for tearing your mama’s dress, miss Delilah.” The innkeeper caressed her green round cheek and chuckled, “My girl, I think you need something a size or two larger anyway. Why don’t you stay a bit longer with your girlfriends, so I can stitch it up?” Razasha looked right away at her mistress, still hazy but now awake, that muttered “I guess we can stay a bit, just for you of course.”

Apart from the group, the dwarven twins were cornering the half-castrated hunter, that desperately tried to get back on his legs, at the sight of the now armed to the teeth redheads. Frigg, using only one finger, pushed on the forehead of the trembling man, causing him to fall flat on his back, while Freya pulled down his pants, exposing his very red and swollen genitals. The man cried “Please, don’t do this, I want to stay a man, I have gold, I can pay you!” Unfazed, Frigg unlocked the metal pin that clasped together the two halves of her breastplate, causing her hefty breasts to sway apart on her chest, before locking it on her weapon. “Freya, are you ready?” asked the berserker while placing the hooked shaft of her warhammer over her sister’s battleaxe. “Always, sis.” answered Freya while forming the second half of the burdizzo clamp with her weapon. 

The hunter, with bugged out eyes, begged, “No, no, what are you doing, gods please no!” as he felt the cold metal clamps close down on his scrotum. “And don’t forget to tell all the other bandits around that the Slay Belles did that to you!” said the twins in unison.

-CRUNCH-