Beneath the mountain

"See here, where the barrier intersects the mountains? Disturbing emanations radiate from the bowels of that place, that even the weakest of our sisters can sense." The bulky, brown feathered matron says, pointing a pudgy finger to a spot on the map to the east, where the barrier mountains drop off into the sea. The wise women have been of great aid in your investigation, their senses unclouded by whatever is gripping the younger harpies. The black haired general you defeated sits at the table across from you, the dusk-wing harpy chief Rookfeather, her bandaged side irritating her as you memorize the spot, "Minion will go with your strongest warriors to this place. If a mage has breached master's domain, we need destroy quickly. Rookfeather, you choose **** we take and share in the battle. The master reward you well, if we succeed." She glares at you, understanding your shrewd manipulation of her loyalties and pride, the glitter of suppressed hatred making you grin as she submits with a lowering of her head. Rising from the planning table and exiting the command center, the sun has slipped past the mountain tops sinking the plain into an artificial dusk. Your troops gather about you as a guard leads you to a spacious tent, the walls reinforced with thick branches woven into the fabric.

You settle for the night, Blackmane pressed tightly to your side as you let your vision darken into the abyss of sleep...

You can feel your body floating, you skin tingling as the billowing smoke around you flattens into an obsidian floor. A short, bulky form coalesces from the smoke, its skin turning pale white as a dress of deep purple wraps its feminine curves. Her head remains shrouded as she examines your fully exposed girth, and judging by the hardened thick nipples that strain against her dress, she likes what it sees. Softly, you hear a smooth voice murmur in another tongue, your ankles **** up past your shoulders by invisible hands as she walks under your heavy swaying balls, your prick slapping your stomach as it is **** to hardness. Pursing her shimmering black lips, she leans forward planting a gentle suckling kiss on each of your testicles, hot saliva and lipstick clinging to them as she covers every inch of your exposed sack with inky black markings. When she steps back you feel the pulsing pleasure of breeding rut, cock spraying cum in every direction, your balls gurgling fuller with each jet that leaves you. You can't relieve yourself as your nuts churn out an endless stream of sticky jizm, ropes splattering the stone floor... Her broad smiling mouth the last thing you see as blinding pain and pleasure blast your mind into oblivion...

Bolting upright, whatever gifted you that vision has left your body heated, your prick pushing against your pants with such **** that it has actually torn several stitches. You adjust it to run down your pant leg as you move to the entrance of the tent, Blackmane following close behind.