Trolled By The Game Part 2 Of ? (Commission) free porn video

The water rose as it glowed. A strange low thrumming echoed through the cave. I stepped back, the light banishing my reflection as the water began to overflow. No, not overflowed. It twisted, swelled, shaped into a tendril. Reached. I ran, instinctively loping down the tunnel to the outside. Panting, giant breasts swinging, orangutan-arms reaching the floor to give me a boost, spittle running from the corners of my mouth. My new body was strong but it was not built for sprinting. I emerged, breathing hard. I swung to look behind me, barely even noticing the way my breasts and hair lagged behind the motion in my alarm. Nothing. It occurred to me that I may have overreacted. For all I knew, I'd just run from some kind of quest hook. Still, with no guidance and no backup, I wasn't sure it was something I wanted to mess with. Better to wait for Izzy. But how long exactly would that be? Izzy had said something like fifteen minutes was two weeks. Assuming she meant that literally. Um... Uh... The numbers just didn't want to line up in my head. Nerves, probably. I looked up at the dying light of the sun, then set about looking for a stick. I'd just figure this out by hand. Writing implement (or rather, tree branch)? Check. Writing surface (A somewhat less muddy patch of ground not far from the cave)? Check. Alright. So fifteen. Times...times... No, two times uh...fourteen? Shit. Just use the stick, stupid. Write all the numbers down. ... How did you make a one? God damn it. I didn't know how to write. Apparently trolls are fucking illiterate. So now I was, too. Shit, did that mean it wasn't just nerves? Did this game actually fuck with my ability to do math? Were trolls that stupid in this setting? This just keeps sucking harder. I plopped on to my bony troll ass, stupid cow boobs almost hitting me in my stupid drooling troll face as they bounced. I was at a loss. I sat there numbly for some time, staring as the swamp around me turned orange and then red in the dying light. Cicadas gave way to locusts and fireflies. It was an interesting atmosphere, at least. The chirrup of the crickets was oddly soothing. The fireflies and swamp lights were quite beautiful in the gathering dark. Soothing. Emotionally exhausted, I dozed off. ----- I awoke in fits and starts, never sleeping for more than moments at a time despite my efforts. Every time I tossed or turned I'd roll over on to my tits, or my now longer hair would get pinched between my back and the ground, or I'd scratch myself with my claws wiping drool from my mouth. All of this not just waking me up, but serving to remind me that none of this had been a dream. Finally giving up with a throaty sigh, I drug myself to the wall of the cave and slouched against it stubby legs crossed, letting my breasts sink into my lap. Maybe trolls were nocturnal, or maybe things with tiny brains just didn't have to sleep much, but I found I was no longer tired. Yet I could think of little to do but watch the night. It was pretty easy. My night vision in this form was sufficient I could still make out the leaves of individual trees, see the bog come alive with bugs, see movement as something slither through a patch of reeds. Should I be worried, camping out alone at night like this? I was a troll yeah, but maybe there were bigger and badder things out there. Idly, I began to wonder about that weird pool of glowey water. Was it really safe to stay here? What even qualified as safe, in this game? Should I go back and check, or just count myself lucky it hadn't followed me out and tried to eat me? Boredom finally won out over caution. The flow of air down the tunnel had reversed as the night grew cooler. Lank stringy hair whipped annoyingly in my face and got caught in my dumb gaping mouth as I lumbered back into the cavern. Even as I entered the chamber, there was no sign of a glow. The water was as still as it had been when I'd first found it, no longer emitting a baleful light but instead reflecting the vaguely moronic expression that was stuck on my she-troll face. I wiped my mouth, with a thick, clawed hand, drooling again. The misshapen maw I'd received seemed to make this a regular occurrence. Well, there's that taken care of. What now? ----- It began with a long groaning from my belly. More a moan than a growl, really. Hunger. The sun was just beginning to rise and with it came an appetite sudden and powerful as a storm. I hadn't been this hungry in... I didn't know, actually. Maybe ever. A pit was growing in my chiseled green stomach that felt like it went right up against my spine. Maybe it was time to get off my ass and explore the game world. ----- I wasn't sure what I actually expected to find. Besides bog, bog, and more bog. Certainly there weren't any orchards or farms around for me to pilfer. And every animal I saw that might fill my belly was far too swift for me to catch. Aimlessly, I wandered through the wilderness. I tried to move in a straight line so as not to get lost, and shockingly, succeeded. Not due to any great navigational skills on my part. Indeed the bog was dense, wet, muddy, and above all: exactly the same no matter where you went. That should have made navigation impossible. Yet I always knew where I was in respect to the cave. The location was always there, a lodestone in my head. No matter how far I strayed or how many turns I made, I always knew where it was. Something to do with the fountain? Or some innate troll-sense about my lair? I walked and walked, glad of my newfound strength as I waded through the mire. My legs may be short, stubby, and hairy; but they were strong. Tangles of floating vines, roots, and mud were barely noticeable. I could bull right through them. The damp was likewise nowhere near as miserable as one would think. My thick troll hide seemed fairly impervious to water. Speaking of water...I had to pee. I'd been studiously ignoring the new organ between my thighs since I'd first examined myself in the water, but now my bladder was insisting. I held it until I couldn't stand it anymore. I felt like a grapefruit was pressing against my groin. Finally, I stopped behind a bush, spread my thick stubby tree trunk legs, and twisting my gaze as far from the mess at my crotch as possible, let loose. It sounded like a god damned fire hose. And it stank. Getting up, I found I'd drenched myself. The giant bush was soaked with urine, and it was running down my legs. I didn't have anything to wipe with. Hadn't even really thought of wiping. Sighing for what felt the millionth time that day, I lumbered on, stomach growing tighter as the sun climbed in the sky and the day grew hotter. And hotter. And hotter. ----- It was too much. I was burning up. The dark, keratinous scales that dotted my back and parts of the hide on my front felt like bits of hot asphalt embedded in my skin. The stringy black-green nest of hair was soaking up the sun and trapping what little heat my diminished skull produced. I panted, mouth too parched even to drool. There had been water everywhere, even if none of it looked particularly drinkable, but now hours after setting out I was in a drier upland and I felt like I was dying of thirst. Paradoxically I had yet to produce a drop of sweat. I was beginning to think trolls didn't sweat. Like pigs. Did that mean I was supposed to wallow in mud? Ugh. Abruptly the trees broke ahead of me, revealing a small stream-fed lake, or alternatively a large stream-fed pond. Oh what the hell. Still panting, I clambered down the banks, plopping straight into the water. My watermelon tits slapped painfully at the surface as I fell in, but afterwards floated, absurd yet serene. I sighed, feeling the cool water, the soothing mud on my three fat toes. Against my better judgement, I swallowed the water I was immersed in. It tasted muddy, but it was wet and it was cold and it was water. If I got sick it would almost be worth it. I began to gulp it down, grateful for anything to relieve the heat and fill my stomach. Refreshed, without thirst and heat to distract me, I was able to appreciate the sensations of my new body once again. It was not pleasant. Long damp hair clung to my thick neck and scaly back. My breasts tugged on my chest, their buoyancy in the water counteracting gravity, ensuring that wherever I went my coming was heralded by twin ripples and two floating hemispheres that nonetheless hid most of their bulk beneath the water, an embarrassing pair of moss colored titbergs awaiting their Titanic. Shuddering against my cleavage, I started paddling to the other side of the pond. I tried to kick off the bottom but managed no more than a short hop. I tried again. Nothing. I leaned forward, trying to move myself parallel to the water. Instead I just flopped awkwardly on top of my own breasts before my long green nose sank beneath the water line and I righted myself, sputtering. Great. My tits were the only part of me that was buoyant. The rest was all hide, muscle, and bone. Too dense to swim. Hanging my head, I shambled back to shore. Soon enough I was baking again. Maybe trolls really were nocturnal. I certainly couldn't be expected to spend all my time in the water. I couldn't even swim. But without sweating I only had one other way to cool myself off. I eyed a nearby flood plain, the muddy shore waterlogged almost black. I recalled my earlier thoughts about pigs. Well, when in Rome. Or Bleakmire. Mud squished between my fingers. My toes. My legs. My breasts. It was gross, dirty, a humiliating, dripping sucking clinging goopy reminder of my new warped femininity. And it was heaven. Cool and refreshing and soft and dripping and sucking and clinging and goopy. I scooted along the shore, kneading my rough scaly back into the mire. Grapped handfuls and smeared my face and shoulders. I even flopped over onto my belly, propped once again on my tits, embarrassed, emasculated, but so hungry for the cool that I still contentedly ground my nipples into the chill soothing slime. I lay there, relieved, wallowing in the muck like a proper bog creature. I felt ridiculous. I felt content. Drowsily, I wondered if anyone had ever thought of she-troll mud wrestling. Sleep found me again. ----- I awoke to another sickening, bubbling groan from my stomach. I didn't know what a troll's metabolism was supposed to be like. I wouldn't have thought it was that high given how much problem I was having with temperature regulation. But either way, I didn't seem to be keeping up with it. I lay in the drying muck, miserable. The sun was setting at least. Movement, to my left. A few feet away. The smell of wet fur. Deer. Food! I leapt up. Slipped. Landed tit-first in the mud. No doubt hearing the titanic squelching sound the fall of the twin peaks made, the deer scampered off. All this I knew by sound and smell. I hadn't even caught a glimpse of it. Hungry as I was, I was somewhat disturbed with how quickly I'd reacted to the idea of a deer as just a walking piece of meat. I'd never been a vegetarian in real life, but still, the reaction was foreign to me. What would I have done if I'd caught it? I didn't know how to dress a deer, how to separate the bad parts from the good so I didn't get sick. I didn't even have a knife or a campfire. Rising again from the ground, I resolved to move on. I would follow the stream that emptied into the pond. Streams always lead somewhere. ----- I was miles from the cave, I knew. Given the cave also contained that weird fountain, I wasn't sure that was a bad thing. Besides, it's not like I could get lost when I didn't really know where I was in the first place. I trudged along the stream bed, still dripping half-dried mud. With the muck sticking to my greasy scalp, dripping off my veiny udders, and clinging in gobs to the wiry hairs of that place between my legs I still didn't like to think about, I felt frankly grotesque, but at least I wasn't hot anymore. I'd occasionally hear animals fleeing my sound or scent in my periphery. The smells were constant. Wet fur, scat, territory-marking urine. They were gross smells, yet they made my mouth water, which was even grosser. I wiped at my thick rubbery lips. With the constant supply of slaver my glands were producing, it was becoming reflex. From time to time, my passage would disturb a frog nesting in the mud by the stream. Once or twice I even tried to catch one, but I simply wasn't agile enough. I walked on. The sun shrank. The swamp came alive with crickets and fireflies again. Then there was a new smell. Smoke. And sweat. Human sweat, I somehow knew. I didn't want to be seen. I certainly didn't want to meet any other players. But...what if they had food? My gurgling empty gut decided for me. I followed the smell. Another half mile up-stream, I came upon the source of the stink. A small village huddled against itself in the dark; a smattering of hide- and-branch huts. I could smell the humans inside them. I could smell the dried, depleted musk of the animals that had made the hides of their tents and clothes. I could even smell vestiges of drying sap from freshly cut branches. Most importantly, I smelled cooked meat. I shambled forward, hunger leaving me heedless to my earlier fears. A glow ahead promised a fire. Night-blind and consumed with the prospect of consumption, I didn't notice the men until they were upon me. Five of them in crudely worked hide armor, faces painted black and green, making them appear half melted into the surrounding dark. Absurdly, my first instinct was to wrap one arm around my chest and place the hand of the other on my crotch. I couldn't say why I was so ashamed. I didn't know for sure they were players rather than NPCs. Likewise, for all they knew I was supposed to be a troll. The attempt to hide my shame would be futile in any case. My tits far exceeded my grasp, and the thicket of my troll mons peeked out between my fingers and around my hand. The five men froze, staring; apparently as shocked to encounter me as I was to encounter them. Finally, one raised the alarm, shouting loudly with words I couldn't understand. The others began babbling excitedly to one another in a foreign language, but now I could pick out a few words. Among them "Troll!" and "Fire!", "Dogs!" and, oddly "Cow!" I began to hear the baying of dogs in the distance, and more men stirring in the tents. I turned and fled. I didn't make it far. Hungry, exhausted, and unused to moving in this body, the men were easily able to keep pace with my headlong flight and, eventually, catch up. I found myself surrounded by three of what must have been their bravest, including two I'd met in the camp. The baying of dogs was growing closer. In the distance I could see the waving of torches. They had been quick enough to pursue me when I turned, but now that they had me, they seemed to be having second thoughts. I stood over half again as tall as the tallest of them. I'm pretty sure my right arm was as long as the shortest. I hopped to the right, tits swinging like a pendulum. The men followed the motion. They weren't eager to come at me, but neither were they going to let me go. All the frustration and awkwardness I'd experienced the last couple of days began to bubble seething to the surface. These absolute fucking pricks. I hadn't done anything to them. Just blundered into their camp sniffing after food. And now they won't even fight? I hoped for their sakes they really were NPCs. I leaned forward on to my hands, aping the simian posture I'd adopted before, inhaled as much as I could, and roared. Spittle flew from my mouth as I gave a croaking bellow that I hoped sounded as terrifying to them as it did to me. Two of them turned and fled, shouting to their comrades. The third, a thoroughly small looking man with a torch and a scarred face, held his ground. Said something I didn't understand. Lept at me, waving the brand. The burning cloth on a stick that was somehow the scariest thing I'd seen so far. I lashed out at his arm. Snagged it with two gargantuan fists. Twisted. There was a crack, and a scream. The tribal was on his back. I stepped forward, grabbed his throat in my hand. Squeezed. His windpipe imploded the ease of a piece of plastic tubing. He struggled for a few moments, then went still. Holy shit. He was dead. I'd just killed someone. I mean, it wasn't real, but it had felt... The torches in the distance had frozen in place, but I still smelled something burning. Something like pork? At some point the man's torch had landed on his belly. In the struggle I didn't notice it. His flesh was searing even as I watched. I smelled blood, and cooking meat. My mouth watered. No. No fucking way. I wanted to eat this man I'd killed. That was a bridge too far. He'd attacked me, tried to hurt me. But I wasn't a fucking cannibal. Disgusted, defeated, and afraid of what I was becoming, I began the long wet march back to my cave. ----- I needed something. I needed something very badly. I was empty, yet I needed to be filled. It wasn't hunger, not exactly. It was more intense, and less hollow. More warm. And wet. I woke up. Back at the cave. ----- Sitting in an empty bog with an empty stomach gave me a lot of time to think. Mostly, I thought about my empty stomach. But I tried to let my mind wander to lessen the gnawing in my belly. What was wrong with the people that made this thing? This game? If they could make something like this, shouldn't they be curing cancer? Ending world hunger? Doing something, anything but making an MMORPG? And did it have to be so...real? I'd never really cared about video game violence before. I'd played Grand Theft Auto, Postal, any number of comically violent things. I wasn't one for slasher films, either, but gore had never bothered me. But here...everything looked and felt so real. So detailed. Both understated compared to the Hollywood violence I'd seen before, and more excessive in ways I'd never imagined. The tactile sensation of that stupid tribesmen's throat crumpling beneath a three- fingered- fist still hadn't left me. And they were enjoying this, whoever designed this thing. They wanted that level of detail. My stomach growled. Again. I was very hungry. ----- I'd dreamed, I think. Something about Isabel. I was disgusted to find I was wet when I'd woken up. Not like I'd been before. I'd gotten used to making water. Trudging behind bushes to urinate or shit had been the only thing breaking up my routine for the last couple of days. This was different though. The fluid was thicker, slicker, and not showering out in a short burst only to subside. No, it just kept on...oozing. I was aroused. As a woman. As a she-troll. ----- I'd had an idea. A way to get food that didn't rely on speed or a hunter's tools or knowledge. Noodling, they called it. Fishing for catfish with your bare hands. I thought it was insane. But I was a troll now. Tough hide, super strength. And I was so fucking hungry. I remembered the pond, and vaguely recalled where it lay in relation to the cave. I was pretty sure I could find the way again. Besides, I needed the distraction. I'd dreamed again. Of Izzy, I was pretty sure. The kind of dream I'd have enjoyed a few days ago. But not like this. Something was changing inside me. I could feel it. And lately, change had been bad. I found I was oddly sore. Felt hot in the middle of the night for brief moments. I could even almost swear my breasts were bigger. Plus I just kept getting horny. Dreams. The strange tenderness in my breasts. More oozing wetness between my legs, more persistent than before. Hot flashes. What was happening to me? Thankfully, a browny-green shimmer glistened ahead of me, announcing my arrival at my destination and interrupting my brooding. Once again, I slid down the muddy banks and into the water. My breasts floated in the stagnant water, two long moss covered islands in the murk. They bobbed ahead of me as I waded deeper out. I didn't really know how tall I was, but judging by the trees that surrounded the pond, surely the water would have been over my human head. A bit further, a boulder or outcropping emerged a foot or so above the water line. Maybe that would be a good spot? I felt around in the muck. The water was deep here, but my arms were so long now. Yes, there was a hole. Did they live in holes? I didn't know, but the hole didn't feel natural. Whatever it was, even if it wasn't a fish, maybe I could ea- "SHIT" I bellowed in my scratchy, deep, she-troll voice. I yanked my hand out of the hole. I could feel the weight of something being dragged with it, as well as a lance of fire in what felt like my ring finger. If I even counted as having one of those anymore. My hand broke the water line, and with it, came a snapping turtle. Howling with pain and rage, I slammed the thing against the rock, again and again. It wouldn't fucking let go. Finally, it cracked, literally. It's shell was broken, oozing. The turtle was dead. I felt almost guilty for a second. But my stomach was growling, and my finger was hurting; and the damn thing still hadn't let loose. I put my other hand on the head, pried. Surprised myself at my own strength as I seemed to break its jaw with one hand. Jesus shit. The third finger of my right hand had nearly come off with it. Between shredded flesh pulsing with thick violet blood, a sliver of bone was visible. I wanted to barf. Cursing, I cradled the wounded digit in my other hand, trying to apply pressure. Until I began to feel something tickling my hand. I stared, wide eyed and drooling, as the flesh of my finger began to knit together across the nearly severed. Troll regeneration. Neat. ----- Twenty or so minutes later I was hunched at the mouth of my cave, cursing again; this time at a crude pile of moss and twigs rather than the deceased turtle. I'd searched through the muck for carcass, dragged the dead animal all the way back here from the pond, and now I still wasn't going to be able to eat the thing. I couldn't start a fire. I'd gathered twigs, moss, leaf litter. Anything vaguely flammable I could find had been dumped in a pile just inside the cave. But it was all wet, and even if it weren't...my hands didn't work the way they used to. I'd found two dark rocks that I figured (or at least hoped) were the right kind for fire starting. But summoning sparks was difficult to say the least. My hands didn't work the way they used to. The three fingers and thumb on each were thick and unwieldy, imprecise. I kept dropping the damned stones. I'd also cut myself several times, though that was no more than a minor annoyance given how fast I healed. When I finally got sparks, they wouldn't catch. And one had landed on my foot. Involuntarily, another howl burst from my throat. It burned far out of proportion of what a little ember should. Weren't trolls susceptible to fire in some settings? Shit. Disgusted, I tossed the rocks at the cave wall. They burst satisfyingly, cascading to the floor in black-grey splinters. But that only went so far to calm me. My stomach growled again. The pit there was growing deeper, needier. And I had no way to fix it. Fuck. I kicked the pile of kindling, scattering it about the entrance of the shitty hole I was living in. I picked up the half-smashed turtle, tossed it as far as I could throw it. Longing for emptiness, I crawled deeper into the cave, curled up giant tit to thunder thigh, and once more tried to sleep. ----- Rot, the buzzing of flies...and turtle. That's what I smelled. I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't even care if I got sick. Maybe if I died it would kick me out of the game. I followed my nose to the carcass of the snapping turtle. It was ripe, stinky, disgusting. And my mouth was watering as it had never watered before. Almost as wet as my cunt had been when I'd woken up. I put a hand on either shell and tugged. It popped like a morbid pi?ata. Meat. Ripe, fly covered meat. I tore at it with my hands, shoved the glistening off-white chunks into my mouth. Tasted blood and offal and foul congealing brine. I wanted to wretch at the thought of what I was eating; but I was just so hungry, and my mouth and stomach outvoted my brain. They said I wanted to eat this carcass, and I was going to do it. In a few moments, it was gone. I was still hungry. More. ----- Five hours, two catfish, and another turtle later, and I at last felt full. The newer kills had felt bland after my first meal. I'd hoped that was just the hunger. I'd rather eat catfish sashimi than rotten meat personally, but I wouldn't be surprised if trolls actually liked that kind of thing. Crocodiles left their meals buried to rot, I'd heard. And what was a troll but another apex predator of the swamp? Besides, I hadn't been very picky with the fresh meals either. I had no idea how to clean a fish other than a vague notion that you were supposed to cut out the shit tube. Famished as I was...I'd eaten it whole. Crunched the bones between fangs glistening with slaver. Closed my eyes as I bit off the heads so I wouldn't have to see the things staring at me. I was ashamed, disgusted on some level at what I was eating. But this pleasant fullness after days of starving made it hard to second guess my decision. Besides, the water here certainly wasn't clean, but I hadn't gotten sick drinking it. Troll immune system? And at least it wasn't human meat. I slept again. This time without waking up to stomach cramps. ----- Izzy was there, on top of me, smiling as her breasts and curly brown hair bounced. I smiled back, but it felt wrong somehow. Instead of the building pressure that this kind of thing should occasion, I only felt a growing emptiness between my legs. Izzy seemed to feel it too. She frowned, looked down. Screamed. Something huge, hairy, and purple reached out, wrinkled lips swallowing her leg. Then her waist. She looked up at me, shoulder deep in the wrinkled, squeezing mass, pleading as she sank deeper. I felt more and more full. When the last lock of brown hair vanished inside with a sickening *schlock*, I realized that the thing that had eaten Izzy was my cunt. ----- I woke up in the twilit swamp wetter than I'd ever been. I was almost afraid I'd somehow pissed myself in my sleep. I'd been horny off and on for days, but this...this was like puberty times ten. I hadn't been willing to do anything about my growing arousal before. Revulsion at my new body kept any real exploration at bay. But now, after that fucked up dream, sitting here with my nipples aching, my cunt sopping, twitching... It was too much. As delicately as a troll hand would allow, I touched my new snatch. Oh. Oooooh. Involuntarily, I bent over, breasts flopping to either end of my torso. As much as I didn't want to, I didn't know this body. I had to see what I was doing. My index finger was brushing right up against my...my slit, if you could call the gaping cavern buried in the tangled wilderness of my groin a slit. Two overlong, wrinkled, ugly purple-green labia twitched around it. The hair around the things had gone black from wetness. I rubbed again. Moaned. Watched my lower lips flex. I felt a greenish flush creep over my chest. My nipples were aching, almost burning. The innie nubbins had everted into two giant, uneven teats, puckered ends drooping languidly from my udders under gravity's thrall. Still tentatively rubbing my outer lips, I took my left teat between fat thumb and long forefinger. Twisted, ever so slightly. Another husky moan. It was indescribably weird. Almost like getting a handjob at the end of my pec. Never since winding up in this form had I felt as emasculated as I did sitting there, tweaking a fat green nipple and fingering my yawning snatch. But it was just so hot. I needed to go deeper. I shoved my index finger in past the outer lips, wiggled it up and down. I was rewarded with a buzz of pleasure and another gush of thick, syrupy fluid. I could feel the finger in my pussy, and my pussy clenching around my finger. I moved higher, found my swollen clit. Tweaked it. Yanked at my nipple some more. Images of Izzy bombarded my mind. Her hair sweaty, face flushed, perky nipples bouncing on top of me. I needed this. I thrust deeper, deep as I could go. Rubbed. Pulled. Felt something building within me, within my tits, within my cunt. I tried to imagine myself with Izzy but the figure in the visions kept turning into a troll. My ego now enslaved by the growing sensations inside of me, I let them go where the willed. Imagined Izzy's delicate little hands probing inside me, able to go so much deeper than my fat troll fingers could, strum my strings precisely, flawlessly. Imagined her mouth on my tit. Sucking. Deeper. I was in it to the knuckle now. I needed more. I flexed hard around the invading digit, trying to suck it in even as it pushed inside me. I needed it deeper. Deeper. Harder. Izzy's fingers in my mind and mine in my cunt bored as deep as they could go. I needed more. For an instant, the fingers in my mind's eye turned into a cock, thorny, impossibly long, green yet pulsing with purple veins. It buried itself in me to the hilt. I roared. I clenched, gasped, moaned. Came, spurting lubricant. I sat there, panting. My legs and groin were utterly drenched. My fingers were cramping. Even my tits, which were certainly larger now, seemed to be leaking a tiny bit of clear fluid. I was exhausted, wet, and deeply ashamed of what I'd done. And I was still horny. Still needed something. ----- Shame was not enough to stop what followed. For days, with nothing to accompany me but hunger and horniness, I hunted, ate, slept, and fucked myself. I never quite got used to the sensations, the noises I made, the way I looked when I examined myself after a fresh friggin...not least because it was changing. My breasts were swelling. My skin, flushing. Some hormonal thing, I thought, as my increasingly engorged nipples began once more to leak clear fluid. Izzy was in my thoughts often, and not just when I was touching myself. We'd started dating a year ago, and been pretty much inseparable since. I missed her. To think about her this way, in this body...I felt as though it soiled her. I certainly felt soiled. But thoughts of her kept...other....images at bay during my now thrice daily sessions. Half dreading and half anticipating one of those sessions after a night's hunting, I walked back to the cave to find intruders. I smelled them first. Or rather, their torches. They themselves simply smelled like mud. A deliberate attempt to hide their scent? I heard them second, speaking in low voices, that same weird language from earlier from which I seemed to know a few words. Again, among them were "troll" and "fire" as well as "lair" and "hunt". Lastly, I saw them. Three human figures, arranged in a semicircle around the entrance of my cave. From their posture, I judged that they were under the mistaken impression that I was inside. No one was looking behind them. I dropped the brace of catfish I'd been hauling and crept forward, long arms not-quite dragging on the ground, ready to break into a lope at any second. As I got closer, their myriad scents began to resolve, the dirt no longer overpowering the smell of sweat and body odor. Two were clearly human, but another, smaller figure in the middle smelled different somehow. Another race? They were still talking in low voices. The shorter one entered the mouth of the cave, torch in front of him. They were only two now. One began to turn around. I lunged. Going for the throat again, the man that had been turning had no time to react. I crushed his windpipe, and slammed his skull against the rock for good measure. The other man was faster. He'd drawn some kind of stone hatched, hacked at my arm as I reached to do the same to him. The first two blows didn't even break the skin. The third opened a thin line of purple that began to close almost immediately. His eyes widened. I smiled. PAIN. Burning, searing pain. I turned, flinging a wild backhand at whoever had assailed me from behind. Heard a high "Oomf!" as the person went flying. My right shoulder was charred, blistered, and raw, and it was not healing. I kicked at the torch the third figure had dropped after I struck him, saw it extinguish itself in a pool of water. I turned again as I felt a pressure on my back, the hapless tribal I'd faced earlier hacking fruitlessly at the thickest part of my hide with his stone axe. I broke his wrist, took the axe, and buried it in his head. Immediate threats eliminated, I examined my shoulder again. God this hurt. Why did the game have to be so painful? Purple blood was now oozing from the burn wound, which still showed no sign of healing. Trolls and fire. A groan reminded me there was one man left. No, not a man. A woman. She had crawled back to prop herself against a cave wall, one arm clutching her side, panting. Her face was angular, her hair bright red, and her eyes very large. She also had pointed ears. An elf? "Fuck!" She groaned as I approached. She turned her head frantically, carrot-red hair waving. Her already large blue eyes widened even further as she realized her comrades were dead. "Stupid NPCs..." "NPCs?" I froze. "You...you're a player?" This was the most I'd spoken in days. It was disconcerting, knowing what was coming out of my mouth was really my voice now. "Yes. You can understand me?" The elf seemed as shocked as I was. "Oh my god. Todd?" "Izzy?"