Futanari Legends: The Frozen Queen (Book 2: Astrid) (8 page)

I smile, his erection near my face, and his robes tenting out against the massive pole. I look up at him with feigned innocence, my blue eyes radiating passivity, and my insides seething with a pang of disgust.

Captain Keller leans closer, his right arm pumping his cock under the table, and a bead of sweat rolls down his cheek.

Faith gasps. “Father, this is lurid, against what Amarus teaches is right and pious behavior! Cover yourself.”

High Priest Keller’s massive cock and balls spill from his robes, bouncing inches from my sweet lips, the warmth of his pole radiating off my face. The man is shaved smooth, even his balls, so his skin is silky and slightly wet from sweat. His piss hole drips pre-cum in a long strand, the end of his shaft purple and swollen with lust.

The priestess gasps in shock, averting her eyes. “Father Keller!”

“Do not look away, young initiate,” Keller say., “Look! Stare at my cock, now!”

She turns back to us, her eyes wide with shock, and my mouth inches from the end of the high priest’s mighty rod. Her eyes meet mine, and I see her bottom lip shaking.

The priest’s cock bubbles pre-cum, the strand hanging and bouncing off the end. His cock jerks, and I feel the string of pre-cum land on my right breast, the clear fluid dripping down into the sweaty press of my cleavage. The rest of the string of pre-cum bounces up and sticks to my neck and chin, only to be replaced by more seething from the deep pink hole flaring on the end of the man’s cock.

Garrus pumps his cock harder across the table, staring in my eyes with lust. I blink at him innocently, and return my shocked gaze to the cock pointing directly towards my face. I feel the warmth of his body against me. I smell his musky, sweaty scent.

“Now, sweet-voiced Miss Icebow,” Keller says, his cock jerking upwards with each beat of his heart, the pre-cum oozing forth and sticking to the bottom of the vein-covered shaft, “prove your loyalty to our God-King by sucking the heavenly seed from this cock.”

Chapter 8:

Rapid

It takes all the strength and willpower I possess to pull myself out of Hell.

I ignore the pain, because pain is a temporary condition, and a only mere symptom of being alive. I ignore despondence, because the human soul has no place for an emotion which craves death and insignificance. I ignore inaction and letting the river take me, because I demand to make my own path in life.

Rocks may dig into my fingers and make them bleed, but I care not.

The cold water may shoot nails through my arms, but I notice them not.

The current may try to pull me downstream, but I do not allow this.

I choose to live.

Why?

Life. There are too many laughs yet to have. The world still has sights for me to see. The sun’s rise and sun’s setting have not shown me all the glory they yet have in store. There are others in this world who have not met me and enjoyed my company. The fire still burns inside me, and I still lust for the passion of life.

And someday my heart shall know love.

Even if that love is in the final hour of my life and the last thing I shall do, it shall make my life worthy and complete.

I am Brenna the Hunter, Brenna Wellstone by birth, and in this life at this moment I choose to live.

So my hands start first, finding the rock which presents itself to grab onto and pull my broken body from the water. I care not which rock, any shall do, for when you are pulling yourself from a bad situation, you care not where you pull yourself to.

Only in my case, I should have.

You see, there are those people in this world who never want to see you get up, to stand on your feet, and to see you walk proud and alive. I believe some people seek to pull you down because being down is all they know, and they can’t stand to see others rise. In my case, rising is called living and pulling myself from this watery hell, but in your case it may be getting yourself out of a bad situation or terrible circumstance. Know these people exist, and more importantly, know how to deal with them.

So halfway out of the water, when my ears pop and I regain my clear sight, the shadow of the one who would put me down crosses me.

The shadow of a dragon.

Why it was there I shall never know. Only that the shadow of the beast crossed me and a terrible scream emanated from its lungs, shaking me to my very soul. Around me laid a boulder-strewn river, with water tumbling down a thousand feet of river gorge, and the one I protected, Chloe, is nowhere to be seen.

Now, when a beast attacks, or any other person wishing to pull you down, you have a distinct advantage over this attacker. For the beast will typically announce its presence before it strikes. Why it does this is likely a habit for all predators, because to announce its presence is to inject fear into its prey. When something being preyed upon has fear, it makes mistakes, and often fatal ones.

I know this beast is close, so I pull myself onto the rock and run. My boots slosh, the armor and furs weight me down, but I know I must act, and to act is to move.

I deny the beast the advantage of fear, as I calm myself and plot the best course of action in probably the next two or three steps I have left before the beast’s mighty claws impale me.

In denying fear, I gain two advantages.

One, the beast announced its presence, and I am aware of it. If this creature had been smart, it would have struck me unaware. But since most predators are arrogant and full of hubris, they must make the first move and reveal their intentions.

Two, the same hubris which made the beast announce its attack probably makes it think the tactic worked. That the prey is running scared, and the next few logical moments will play out in the beast’s mind as it expects.

I have ten paces of river in front of me. Two of them until I reach the water, six paces of raging river, and about four paces on the opposite bank where a large rock awaits. I feel the dragon approaching behind me, it sailing down and ready to pluck me from the riverbank like an eagle catching a fish in the water. If its claws hit, I shall be impaled, and likely dead.

The quickest way out is to jump in the river. Doing so would lose to me the freedom of movement on a second pass, and put me either in the water and helpless or in a spot where the dragon could attack me as I struggled to free myself from the river again.

The smart way out is to jump the river and take cover behind the rock. Doing this will leave me in the air for a moment, and put me in a position to be snatched out of the air should my timing be wrong.

And in life, a complication always presents itself at the most inopportune moment. I see a girl in a yellow dress floating down the river, skimming over rocks, taken into the current, swept around corners, and blissfully being taken downstream. She does not struggle and she does not move, so she could either be dead or closely on her way to being dead.

I should curse this development, but often a limitation to action provides clarity. I must rescue Chloe. I must keep moving. In this time of tragedy, a goal becomes readily apparent. She is in trouble. I must save her. Nothing else matters.

The dragon is close, and my foot is on the last jut of rock before the rushing water spills out below me. Now, if you think I am helpless in having to jump and take cover, I have news for you. How one commits to action makes all the difference. I could jump and hope the beast is late. But I know in my infinitely bad luck I am probably wrong, and this jump shall probably play out with my death. Knowing I am going to die in the middle of this jump gives me an advantage.

Do I have to accept this fact? No. Can I twist fate knowing this fact? I most certainly can, and for my survival I most certainly will.

I jump, sailing above the raging waters below, but unlike a stupid scared rabbit, I do not keep my back to my pursuer. I twist my body in the air and face him. I don’t care about my back hitting the rocks, a little soreness in exchange for life is a small price to pay.

It is a majestic dragon indeed.

With my face towards the beast, I see the claws sailing towards me, and the body of the beast so close I can reach out and touch his scaly hide. With the knowledge of where the claws are, I use this to my advantage. In the split-second before his massive claws impale me, I place my boot in a position to meet the beast’s foot before his claws grasp me.

When my boot hits his hide, I kick away.

The claws snap shut inches from my face, and I am propelled away from the beast’s missed chance, landing on the rocks where I intended to be in the first place. I land hard, rolling head over heels, and most likely I shall feel this pain for days to come.

But I am alive.

And I never give an attacker a second chance.

I roll to my feet, slam my elbow into the rock to stop myself, unsling my crossbow, and load one of my three last bolts with a quick cock of the weapon. I slam the weapon into my shoulder and take aim.

A dragon flying away has one weak point. It is not the most chivalrous place to target, but it is one of the least armored spots on a dragon’s underbelly.

My crossbow bolt sails through the air and lands with a satisfying thunk into the tender flesh on the beast’s anus. I didn’t score a direct hit, just left of his sphincter, and it sticks in far enough that I hope the fucking lizard has the pain of a thousand hemorrhoids shooting through its scaly ass.

It screams so loud it shakes the damned valley.

Now I pissed you off, and in that, another advantage goes to myself.

An attacker
thinks
it has the advantage. When it fails to land a blow, it gets angry. Now, it takes a lot of energy to maintain a level of anger, so an attacker will try to lash out as quick as possible in response. At this point, a wounded attacker needs to use its rage quickly and draw blood. It needs to force its prey into another attack, or draw blood quickly.

This is the moment when an attacker is the most dangerous, for it has rage and momentum on its side. Knowing that gives me the advantage over it.

The game immediately changes. I must wear the attacker down by presenting a difficult target, and forcing it to spend its energy of flailing and ineffective attacks.

I know now what you are going to do, dragon. I now have the edge again.

Predictably, it spins and circles around for another pass. This gives me a moment to run further down the river and chase Chloe’s body. I see it sail away from me, rounding eddy and curve, flowing over rocks and being taken away. I jump back to the other side of the river, and this gives me several rocks to run across to gain ground on Chloe before I lose sight of her.

I need to measure my steps. The dragon is wheeling around in the air, its head locked on me, and its body sailing through the air in a wide arc. It needs to think, to watch me, to line itself up for a perfect moment. I need to keep a few steps ahead so my options are many, but most importantly I need to watch the beast’s speed.

It could slow down and land. Since the beast is angry, and it has a bolt stuck up its hindquarters, I doubt this. One does not expend energy to sit at rest. One does also not sit on the ground with a sharp piece of wood lodged in your ass.

It could speed up and try to pick me off the rocks again. I can’t really tell the speed at this angle, so this could be a possibility.

It could keep a moderate speed and breathe fire down on me from above. Flame is trailing from its mouth, likely out of anger, so this remains a good possibility. If the dragon is flying too fast, it can’t breathe fire without choking up on the flames. This is my bet, and I settle on fire as the way this beast will strike again.

If I am wrong, I may need to improvise.

So I am running across several rocks, jumping from one to the other, and waiting for the beast to strike. Instead of trying to outrun him, I deliberately choose to run so my path takes me towards an invisible goal. I see a spot down the river in a patch of calm, shallow water, where I could jump off a rock and onto the shore. I could also jump onto another rock and reach the opposite shore. If the beast strikes me there, I present him two options.

I run, my legs burning, Chloe gently floating away, while I jump from rock to rock. I time my jumps right as the shadow of the beast looms over me. One last rock, and I feel the rush of wind as the beast approaches. I hear the rumble of his mighty lungs draw in, and the heat of his maw opening as he lines up the searing blast that will mean my life.

This is the moment.

I pick the
third
option.

I hadn’t told anyone about it, nor thought of it too soundly, since I am always wary of those who read minds.

I jump
into
the river, and dive just under the surface of the water. The world above me turns to orange fire as I feel the water boil around me. And I singed? A bit. Am I dead? Most certainly not, for water beats fire, and a stupid dragon just wasted a lot of energy in his rage.

You missed me, cursed spawn of the Lindwurm.

I sail down river, swimming with the current, and popping up to catch a breath every now and then. I can’t let Chloe sail away, I can’t lose sight of her, and now I am feeling the need to get to her quickly because this has gone on too long. I have no idea how long she has been under, and the chance of her succumbing grows with each heartbeat.

I pour myself into swimming, the current making it difficult, but my body pounding the water as I push towards her. I lose sight of the dragon, and I pray I can get a look as he lines up for another pass on me. Perhaps I can duck between rocks on the edge and hide, or dive under the surface to evade him.

But then life changes its mind again, and throws me another circumstance of which I did not predict. I only see it roughly for a moment before pulling myself to a rock and quickly getting a second look to confirm my worst fears. The image is only there a blink in my eyes, but what I see is clear.

My life is spared. My battle over.

The dragon flies away, the girl in the yellow dress draped in his claws.