“Well, well, well; if it ain’t the last man I penetrated with whom I did not enjoy the pleasure of reciprocation.”
Blythnin would have to wake up earlier in the morning if she aimed to make me blush at her greeting. Chooka had said things that made entire orgies blush, so I found myself well-conditioned to maintain composure at such scandalous outbursts. The troll with Blythnin, a fair maiden I assumed considering she still looked a few years away from the paint properly drying, so to speak, did blush while eyeing me up and down with a look of coquettish interest.
“Somehow, I don’t think you want me to run you through with a sword, but I’m sure Chooka can manage to squeeze you into my schedule, if I understand the thrust of your desires,” I responded as we mutually extended our hands for a handshake. Chooka and Blythnin both smiled at my appropriately crude humor while the troll maiden played with her hair. “And who is your friend here?”
“She,” answered Blythnin as she shoved the shy troll forward, “is It-Has-Pockets.” I gave her a look up and down, but considering she still wore a traveling cloak with the hood up, there wasn’t much to see. “Go on now, introduce yourself,” prodded Blythnin as she yanked off the cloak.
“Wonderful,” exclaimed Chooka as she stepped forward and pulled the troll into a hug before I could get a good look at her. “You are so beautiful! You simply must tell me how you keep your hair so silky and shiny while on the road,” she continued as she fawned over It-Has-Pockets. I sensed a tinge of expended mana in the air and some Skill shenaniganry before Chooka pulled away. Most likely, Chooka spruced the girl up since she probably had not had an opportunity to clean up from her travels.
I wouldn’t say my jaw dropped physically, but I did pause for a moment while my brain ceased all activity. She wore an outfit of exotic-looking ribbon that wrapped itself up and down her body, concealing and containing very little and highlighting all the curves and toned muscles of her feminine form. Her skin was the color of freshly-pressed olive oil, which is to say, bright green. Her facial features were somewhere between that of an orc and an elf, marrying the savage and unbridled beauty of the former with the majestic and seductive grace of the latter. Her lower canines slightly peeked out past her lips, and tribal tattoos adorned her skin along most of her body.
“This one is It-Has-Pockets,” she stated calmly with a bow, her hands in front of her with her left in a fist and the right one gripping it. “This one has been brought here to serve at your pleasure.” After she uttered forth that statement that totally could not be taken to have multiple meanings, she deftly twirled in place on the toes of her left foot, her body bending and weaving around erotically, seemingly in defiance of gravity or momentum. For but half a second, she would pause in a pose, only to continue to spin around at high speeds once more. She showcased her physique, especially her absolutely impressive shoulder muscles. Additionally, strapped to her back was a long, single-edged blade that was almost straight, but at the tip it bent upward. “This one is a [Blade Dancer], daughter of Threads-The-Needle, a [Dressmaker]. I am fathered by eight, each one of favored blood and Blessing. This one hails from Wattin, the capital of the nation of Tarr. Should this one be pleasing unto you, then you have but to accept the service of this one on behalf of my people,” she stated as she finished her display and ended it with a prostrated kowtow.
“I, uh,” I looked to Chooka and Nanu for guidance. Chooka bobbed her head up and down emphatically, while Nanu simply looked on with the dazed wonder of someone who had just won the lottery. Considering little phased her, It-Has-Pockets must be far more than the wonderful image that meets the eye. I cleared my throat before continuing. “I accept you into my service and welcome you into my house.”
She stood up just as soon as I had finished, and surprisingly, appeared far more relaxed than during our introduction. “Good,” she stated as she snatched up my arm and clutched it to her chest as she walked beside me. “Now we can drop the formalities and get to know each other. By the way, my wai’fudo is coming up soon and I don’t see any male trolls around here so you need to ‘accompany’ me during that time so I don’t die. You do know what that is, right?” she asked as she looked up at me with doe eyes.
With Blythnin already on my other arm and blowing a raspberry at a less-than-chuffed Chooka and Nanu who were bereft an arm of their own to hang onto, I found myself frogmarched into my home before I could even process what I had gotten myself into.
“I think I understand the broad strokes of it, but why don’t you fill me in,” I offered diplomatically, as I wanted to know what she thought it was so there would be no misunderstanding.
“As you may know,” she started as she deftly opened the door with her foot and somehow squeezed in while still clinging to me. “It is a legally protected and mandated responsibility normally delegated to male trolls. They even can get a paid day off work for it. When a female troll is in heat, which happens once or twice a year depending on food supply and other factors, she will spend a full day bedding males without much interlude between sessions with them. Usually, there are six males working in shifts to service her, which would then be the customary six fathers of her offspring, if she doesn’t miscarry.” Her expression, which had been chipper during the explanation, turned rather remorseful during that last part. “In half a year, I will be 17 years of age, and I have been through wai’fudo four times now. Sadly, I have no offspring to show for it, which is common in younger females.” Again, a flash of sorrow crossed her features before she brightened up. “But I hear this time will be a guaranteed success as I will be the mother of your dragon children!” She bounced up and down excitedly while still clutching my arm as the gaggle of us found our way to the bedroom.
Events were transpiring at a mile a minute as I still tried to wrap my head around things. There were more clothes and bits of armor on the floor than on the people in the room as Skull, Chooka, Blythnin, Nanu, It-Has-Pockets, and myself found ourselves in or near a bed that overflowed with eager petitioners for its waking utilization.
“I might be able to manage that,” I responded to her explanation as many hands roamed across my toned body. “I am curious, though, exactly why your name doesn’t match your Blessing. I was told trolls tend to do that.”
“For shame, you can’t just ask a troll why her name doesn’t match her Blessing!” shouted Blythnin at my apparent faux-pas. “Fucking piss-dicks dammit! I was so close!”
Blythnin reached over the bed to fetch a coin purse as others did the same. Even Skull somehow had been part of this, and considering she never strays far from my side, that was a feat to keep me out of the loop. Coins changed hands in favor of It-Has-Pockets and Chooka, with the lion’s share of the losses coming from Blythnin.
“You’re feeling a little light there, Blythnin,” stated It-Has-Pockets as she removed the last of her clothes and leapt on top of me. “Not only did he ask about my name before I managed to get in bed with him intimately, but I did it in under five minutes of meeting him. That is an extra 50 gold you owe me.” More cursing followed from Blythnin as her coin purse continued to dwindle in size.
“You cost me a lot of money with that mouth of yours,” Blythnin exclaimed as she too positioned herself favorably upon me. “Best you apply it to an apology without words, especially since you have kept me waiting for this moment since the war.”
Events proceeded from there, and with me being the lone man with five eager and lust-filled women to indulge, I found myself put through my paces to see if I could handle the challenge of a solo wai’fudo. At some point, I tried out shapeshifting into a male troll, complete with a little help from Chooka to manage the cosmetics of the tattoos. Apparently, I looked strapping, for It-Has-Pockets nearly drooled after she witnessed the transformation.
Looking at myself in the mirror, my visage looked as though I could either charm birds down from a tree or make grown men piss themselves in fear depending on how I batted my eyes or hardened my gaze. While It-Has-Pockets had a shorter and wider mohawk, which was customary for her people, mine was thinner and taller. Were either of us married, we would have different haircuts that matched our respective spouse. Ergo, our haircuts signaled our marital status as single and available.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
It-Has-Pockets had been a chatterbox the whole time, even managing to get a few words in edgewise during the throes of passion before that moment where words became impossible. We heard all about where she grew up, her journey here, her thoughts on the road we were building, and more. Strangely, not one of us ever tired of her tale, so I suspected some Skill enabled such captivation. That, or it was everyone trying to overdose her on pleasure to see if they could break her concentration. Outside of little side wagers and cloak-and-dagger battles at breakfast, it became one of our new favorite games, which she seemed to appreciate.
Apparently, her mother had thought her daughter would be some kind of [Tailor] as well and had named her daughter to reflect that. Trolls took a leaf out of the dragon handbook and all females have some Skills devoted to building their offspring from her own genetics and that of the many fathers. However, they are not as good at it as dragons, and oftentimes they create offspring that are not viable, either for life to be sparked or to meet their standards. Trolls have a much higher than average quality of Blessing compared to other races, but they also have a higher metabolism and eat two to five times as much food. Ergo, any offspring that don’t make the cut get culled, which sounds a bit dark but I get it. Anyway, Threads-The-Needle ‘failed upwards’ and had given birth to a baby that, as she matured, developed into a much more powerful Blessing than anticipated.
At its core, a [Blade Dancer] typically hails from your basic-bitch [Warrior] or even a [Dancer]. From there, one can become a [Battle Dancer], which combines the supporting and enhancing Skill webs of [Dance] with the murdery ones of [Combat] or [Warfare]. Advancing on, it can branch to [War Dancer], which supports from the vanguard, or a [Blade Dancer] which supports near the commander and is typically one of the best duelist and bodyguard Blessings a military commander could ask for. Considering how rare her Blessing is, she was practically royalty. Likewise, taking into account how she trained in the Imperial Palace itself during her youth, that claim may not be far off. Not to say that a human [Warrior] could not train to become a [Blade Dancer], but most mortals never apply themselves to really excel enough to evolve their Blessings all that much.
I will spare you the details of her travels, but suffice to say, she had a splendid time taking in the new sights as she sailed up the east coast, joined a caravan that traveled west, rendezvoused with her escort, Blythnin, and made the rest of the journey to our humble little camp. Poor Blythnin had met her halfway and had to ‘play nursemaid’ to It-Has-Pockets, which certainly explained her absence all this time. Why no other trolls had come along or formed a guard detail remained a mystery to everyone.
Eventually, It-Has-Pockets talked herself out and curled up asleep with Chooka and Blythnin. Nanu, Skull, and I needed very little sleep, and certainly not daily, so we made our way to our small living room to confer with one another while the normies slept.
“So,” I asked as I sat across from Nanu while we indulged in tea and biscuits. “What about It-Has-Pockets had you all hot and bothered? Was it her looks or something else?”
“She certainly is easy on the eyes, and I may well transform into a male troll to ‘help’ you on the wai’fudo, but that is not what caused me to get ‘all hot and bothered’ as you put it,” she huffed as she daintily sipped at her tea. “I’ve been with more beautiful men and women than you have met, so don’t group me in with the star-struck maidens out there,” she continued as a small smile found purchase on her lips. “What surprised me was how many Traits she has.
“I know you don’t have the Skills to see them yet, but in terms of quantity and quality, that girl is unnatural. Someone, some dragon, had a hand in what we dragons call ‘gift-wrapping’ her for us with a carefully curated cornucopia of rare and powerful Traits. She has 108 Traits, to be precise, which is a special number to The Eternal Pretenders flight, but that doesn’t mean they did it. Either way, “she paused for a bit to build anticipation and to sip some more tea, “it seems that someone out there wants to be your friend.”
“I see, I see,” I said as I worked up the courage to phrase my next question. Nanu waited patiently, seemingly knowing what was to follow as she straightened herself up and took no effort to hide the smirk on her face. “Speaking of dragons, I was wondering about some things.”
With me pausing for a moment, she took the opportunity to speak in a slightly motherly and patronizing tone. “Your body is going through some scary changes right now, and you may notice things like your voice deepening, your muscles growing stronger, and certain urges developing.”
“Not that, you ass!” I shouted as Nanu and Skull both laughed at the precursor to the coming-of-age talk about the birds and the bees that parents do. “But, I guess something maybe similar to that. Sometimes I get angry and want to do harmful things to rather innocent people, or my pride gets hurt about things that would never have bothered me in the past. I am frustrated with these mood swings and I don’t understand the cause. Could you explain it to me?”
“Rest assured, all is completely normal for a dragon,” Nanu responded with warmth and seriousness now that her joke was out of the way. “I have been trying to elicit some kind of tantrum from you for a while now, but you have done an excellent job keeping your cool.” Something about that compliment made me feel warm and fuzzy inside more than normal and I wanted more. “Did that compliment about your performance make you feel good? Did it feel better than it normally would, say, three years ago?”
“Are you reading my mind or something?” I asked with a spark of incredulousness in my voice.
“No, but I have helped raise many dragons and I have seen it all. Pride is an aspect of a dragon’s mentality. All the mortal races have it, but it is more pronounced in dragons. You desire and crave compliments that are heartfelt and related to your performance. Some dragons, especially ones I would judge more as ‘evil’, crave bootlickers that offer compliments about their prowess or appearance, even if they are not related to any actual skill or deed performed. If you do not manage your pride and control it, it will control you, and you will grow up to be a man-child, so to speak.
“Older dragons still have pride, but it manifests in strange ways. It tends to involve complicated and convoluted schemes or pranks that take decades to see fruition and involve all manner of unbecoming or scandalous activity. For instance, my brother once masqueraded as a beggar for like twenty years as part of an elaborate plot to be in the right place at the right time to help some king fleeing in the night from a failed coup. The coup was also my brother’s doing, and he ended up ingratiating himself with the king and purging the land of the disloyal lords, all of which was part of my brother’s scheme to position his son as the voice in the king’s ear as his chief advisor. It did work, my brother didn’t have to go through such troubles to make it happen, but I think it all started over a bet over if it ‘could’ be done. Moral of the story, you should expect to get far more petty as you get older.
“Likewise, a lot of ‘bad’ or ‘negative’ emotions will manifest more strongly than your normal humanoid counterparts. You will lust for beautiful women, and maybe someday, men. For instance, you fell in bed with It-Has-Pockets without batting an eye or being overly lecherous about it, as if it were all a natural occurrence. You crave to add to our hoard, you indulge in fine food and drink, and you seek the approval and respect of those you call friends. These are not explicitly shallow traits and they can be channeled into positive outcomes as long as you actively manage and direct those feelings. Abstinence from such things only makes it worse and serves no real benefit. Overindulgence likewise leads to a life of hedonism. As in all things, balance is important.
“This road of yours is ambitious, but as time goes on, it won’t be enough, and you will seek out grander and grander undertakings. Life has no purpose unless you make one, and since you will live until the day you are murdered, as all dragons do, you need to find goals that are worth accomplishing. Too easy and you feel unfulfilled and burn out, too hard and you may fall into despair when you fail. All these changes may seem daunting at first, but you will adapt and I will always be here to help you along.”
With her explanation complete, she rose from her chair and crossed the distance between us to nestle into my lap and pet me tenderly. Skull, who had been quietly munching down this whole time, and seeing the head-pats being handed out for free, likewise put down the refreshments and sought a means to join us. The chair groaned in protest over our combined weight, and between our constant shifting from tickles and jostling for attention, it surrendered to the inevitable as a leg snapped. We quickly found ourselves on the floor amongst the fractured remnants of a shattered chair. With ample laughter and mirth in our hearts, we cuddled together on the floor while we rode out the giggles until composure would find us once again.
“Also, you better be ready for tomorrow, Skull.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“It is what you haven’t done: protected your master. You, Hopper, Ribbette, The Boys, and the various kobolds are going to gang up against me tomorrow and I’m going to beat the stuffings out of all of you by myself.”
“I am sure my Master needs my moral support and would feel better if I stayed in his shadow tomorrow.”
We laughed at her joke, and while we all knew Skull was truly fearless, she was not suicidal. Fighting a Princess would leave all of us battered and broken before the hour of training was over.