A Fortunate Night to Have a Curse

Three loud knocks rudely interrupted the dark and tranquil Daranssian night. The furred perpetrator reached one clawed finger up to scratch at an ear, catching the glares of two disgruntled guards on either side of him. He cleared his throat and pretended to inspect his claws, their gaze never faltering. Half a minute turned into an eternity as the sounds of nature gradually resumed.

"You may enter," called the distinctive voice of a certain Kaldorei ruler.

The worgen hurried inside, eager to rid himself of Tyrande's guards. He was greeted by a large room decorated with both druidic and Sentinel artifacts. It was dark, but bright white light shone in through a small window onto a shimmering pool of water. The priestess had apparently been bathing in it as there were puddles of water on the floor near it.

Tyrande Whisperwind emerged from behind a corner clad in a simple yet elegant white dress which clung to her damp form.

"You are Scot Moore?"

The Kaldorei woman stood in front of him, arms crossed under her breasts which were nearly visible through the wet fabric of her gown. Moore struggled not to let his eyes wander further.

"Yes." He paused for a moment before adding, "My lady."

"I appreciate the formalities but I have no need for them. You're early, and as you can see I was in the middle of a bath." Tyrande moved to a nearby mirror and inspected herself before adjusting her dress. She pulled it upwards over her chest in an effort to better conceal the purple mounds underneath, jiggling them in the process. "I do not like to be inconvenienced," she continued. "Yet this is the second time you choose to do so."

Moore swallowed as the woman turned back to face him, ducking his head while stumbling out an apology. "I'm sorry, priestess. It was getting late so I figured it would be best to come a bit early. I didn't mean to catch you bathing and I swear I only had the best of intentions!" He wasn't lying, though being the red-blooded male that he was he didn't actually mind catching her bathing.

"I believe you, Mr. Moore, now let's get down to business. As you said it is a bit late."

Scot looked up and although he didn't mean to, his eyes instinctively focused on the partially visible nipples of the night elf matriarch. It was only for a split second but he could easily make out their shape and deep purple coloration. He quickly redirected his gaze to her bright silver eyes and curiously noted for the first time that she had a shiny little piercing on the left side of her nose. Perhaps a gift from her husband?

"Take a seat." Tyrande sat down at a table and motioned to a seat across from her.

Scot complied, finding the simple seat surprisingly comfortable given his size. Atop the table was a glowing stone which illuminated the two and made it all the more awkward for him. The soft blue light just made Tyrande's poking nipples easier to see, though she didn't seem to notice.

Tyrande leaned backwards in her chair, hands snug in her lap.

"We Sentinels take training very seriously. It is both a passion and a necessity. As you know first hand this world is rife with conflict."

No chit-chat, right. Of course. He knew where this was headed and nodded along as she spoke.

"Of all people I expected you Gilneans to understand, yet my warriors constantly complain of harassment by your men."

"I know, I know. I try to chastise them but..." He let his voice trail off, allowing his silence to speak for itself. Tyrande stared sternly at him from across the table, silent and expecting more to his explanation. Scot sighed and continued on. "This curse has brought upon us certain... desires which can be hard to contain. "

"Desires?"

"Yes! Even now with you I feel this desire! Surely you know what I'm talking about, what with your husband always being absent?"

"I did not invite you here to prod into my love life." Tyrande crossed her arms under her chest and tilted her chin up at him.

"Of course, sorry. I didn't mean to offend, it just came out." Moore shrunk into himself and stared at his furry hands fiddling with themselves on the table.

It was her turn to sigh. "I believe you. You're just young and agitated. And you're right, I am well familiar with this desire you speak of." She paused and then continued in a more inquisitive, or perhaps intrigued tone. "Even now you say?"

"Yes! It's hard to control around so many women, much less one as beautiful as yourself. Sometimes it's even painful." The Worgen sounded more like someone explaining his situation to a doctor than someone trying to get laid. "Here, let me show you!"

Tyrande blinked a couple of times and shook her head, a confused look on her face as Scot stood up. "Wha-? No no no you don't have to!" She caught the brief sight of a massive bulge in the man's trousers before it was quickly released from it's confinement.

"In Elune's name." She sounded half annoyed, half amazed.

"Ridiculous, right?" Moore's cock had flopped onto the table with a thump. "How can we function like this?"

He wasn't incredibly long, but there was only one word to really describe his cock: fat. His girth was absurd and the night elf matriarch had her eyes glued to it.

"We've been to doctors but no one knows or even really cares about how to treat a wolf man's cock. Half of the time they either laugh at us or think we're pulling a prank."

"Enough. Why are you telling me this?"

"I... just figured since we both have similar problems..." He lifted his shaft and dropped it back down with a thud. "We could maybe help each other?

"I should have you stripped of your position for even suggesting such a thing." Tyrande frowned at her choice of word.

"No disrespect ma'am but I don't think I can work under this condition much longer anyway. Me and my men are at our limits and I just figured we could have a beneficial exchange. With you being married though I suppose I should have known better." His eyes darted up and down between Tyrande's silver eyes and her breasts even as he spoke. It was as if he was torn between acting mannerly or acting like an animal.

"I may be married but Malfurion does not control my love life." Tyrande relaxed a bit in her chair, once again folding her hands within her lap. She closed her eyes and pondered the situation, the Worgen standing there awkwardly for a good minute before the priestess finally opened her eyes. "It is my duty to look after the Sentinels here, however it is also my duty to look after you and your men, as well as everyone else in Darnassus. This curse of yours appears to bring with itself a problem which I did not know of, and if doctor's cannot fix it I would gladly help."

"That said—" The night elf matriarch stood up and leaned forward, hands on the table. "—I am only doing this because you seem like a good man with a genuine condition. This will not happen again and it's up to you to figure out a more permanent solution. Afterwards I expect all reports of harassment to cease by the end of the month. Understood?"

Scot nearly saluted her but stopped before he could embarrass himself. "Of course ma'am! I'm humbled by your generosity and understanding! I can see why you lead the Kaldorei."

"Yes, yes. Let's get this over with quick." Tyrande turned around and began walking towards a spiral staircase. "Come."

Though she didn't look back at him, a slim lavendar finger beckoned him to obey. It was an offer no man—or beast—could refuse.

________________________________________________________________

Tyrande instructed the Worgen to lay down and then made her way over to the single window within her room. It was a beautiful, starry night but she swiftly closed it out, sealing the window shut from potential prying eyes. Unlike her, he was already naked and had eagerly abided by her instructions. His furred form lay sprawled atop a simple wooden bed, legs wide and providing her with quite the view.

Tyrande swallowed and crawled onto the bed inbetween the man's legs, not intimidated by the Worgen's undeniably large length but none-the-less doubtful of what she was about to do. It was true that she had pent up frustrations of her own and that she wanted to help this man, but even still she barely knew him. After a moment of pause and deliberation Tyrande finally leaned in. "A promise is a promise," she thought, wrapping one slender hand around the shaft lying enticingly before her. The priestess wasted no time fulfilling that promise by way of tongue, delicately tracing a trail of saliva around the Worgen's cock. She twisted the shaft in her grasp and gave it a long, slow lick from bottom to tip. Despite her reluctance she enjoyed the taste of him. It was masculine and almost beastial, something she could very much appreciate.

Tyrande blinked as she felt a sweet liquid grace her tongue, noticing pre-cum leaking from the man's tip like a volcano about to explode. She retracted her tongue back into her mouth and licked her lips. It had been too long, and this man—this walking cock—had come at the perfect time. Her luxurious purple lips enclosed themselves around the fat head, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she sucked and slurped. The night elf matriarch moaned ever so lightly as she pleased not only the man before her, but herself as well.

From Scot's perspective he was doing his best not to grab her head and force her down further upon him. Though, judging by his size and her efforts so far he doubted she could go any further. The elf was gurgling around the cock in her mouth, lips stretched in what looked to be nearly painful levels as she did her best to fit as much of the shaft into her hungry maw as she possibly could. Disappointment showed in Tyrande's silvery eyes when she realized her limit. She pulled her head back, allowing the Worgen's cock to exit her mouth with a wet pop. The disappointment in her eyes was quickly replaced by a hunger; a hunger for something she could fit in her mouth. With one hand still wrapped around the man's shaft, she ducked under it and had her way with the more moderately sized sack. She coated it with saliva and inhaled his scent in a way that could only be described as wanton and needy. When she was done worshipping him with her tongue she sucked Scot's balls past her purple lips and into her moist mouth. The matriarch practically purred as she wiggled her tongue underneath his orbs, savoring his animalistic flavor.

When Tyrande finally allowed the Worgen's balls to leave her mouth they were practically dripping with saliva. She lifted her head to suck any newly formed pre-cum off of the man's cockhead before sitting up and shedding herself of her gown, finally giving Scot a clear, unobstructed view of her breasts; and they were certainly breasts befitting that of one titled 'matriarch.' They were the perfect handful. Big, but not too big. His realization of her age just made their lack of sag even more impressive.

"That's not enough to fully please you, is it?" Tyrande straddled him, hands pressed down against his furry chest. He could see her sex pressing against his manhood as she ground it back and forth along his length.

"Please, ma'am!" Scot was panting, tongue lolling like a dog and mind clouded by lust and confusion. Normally he would have grabbed the elf by her meaty hips and slammed himself home, but given his position—given her position—he did not want to offend or overstep himself.

Tyrande had no problem obliging him. She sucked in air and closed her eyes as she lowered herself down upon the man's length. Slowly and deliberately she impaled herself upon the fattest cock she had taken in her 10,000 years of living. Not until every inch of worgen cock had disappeared within her did she open her eyes. First she looked down at her distended groin, then up to Scot who similarly had his eyes closed, a happy grin upon his canine features. Tyrande finally exhaled and began to wiggle her hips, grinding herself down into the furry mass below her. His cock was utterly filling, leaving no spot untouched. Every movement caused her to quiver and grind her teeth. She leaned back, hands moving from Scot's chest to his knees as she began to gingerly bounce up and down. It was more than what she was used to—far more—but that was fine by her. Her bounces began to increase in pace, the lewd sound of flesh on flesh getting louder and louder within the dimly lit room. One violet colored hand reached up to grasp a jiggling breast, the ample tit flesh not quite filling her feminine hand. Tyrande pinched her nipple between two fingers and cried out as she felt a powerful upwards thrust from the worgen. His balls, stills coated in her saliva, smacked up against the purple cushions of her asscheeks.

Scot was panting even harder than Tyrande, his long tongue hanging out and dripping saliva. He thrust himself upwards into her again, and again, then again. The Kaldorei cried out each time, now with both hands groping her breasts, but made no objection to him getting more involved. He reached up and pressed one hand against her back, forcing her down against him until her breasts were smushed against his furry chest. She didn't resist and instead buried her head in his shoulder, panting and occasionally letting out murmurs of pleasure. The worgen's other free hand roughly pawed at her meaty ass, groping and kneading it as he thrust upwards into her. It slipped between her cheeks, firmly grasping a single cheek as one finger prodded at the tense star of her asshole. Tyrande moaned into his shoulder, body shivering as she creamed around the elf-pleasing shaft slamming up into her exceedingly stretched pussy.

No sooner had she come down from the clouds of her orgasm than she found herself flipped onto her back with the worgen now ontop of her. There was only a slight pause in his assault, though his shaft never left the tight confines of her pussy. He resumed before a word of protest could be uttered—not that she would offer one. Instead, she wrapped her long toned legs around Scot and pulled him in further. The sound of balls smacking against elven ass continued, the worgen's low hanging orbs smacking against Tyrande's rosebud in a manner she found tantalizingly pleasing. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, drowning out everything but the sensations she was experiencing.

"So full," she thought. "Though, I will need another bath afterwards." Tyrande smiled, eyes still closed and body beginning to tremble. Her smile quickly faded into an open mouthed moan as her contracting pussy once again creamed all over Scot's unrelenting shaft. Her juices formed a thin layer of white around the base of his manhood and dribbled around the seal his cock acted as within her pussy. The purple lips of her sex were stretched almost painfully wide and every balls-deep thrust into her caused her toned belly to bulge obscenely.

The dripping of worgen drool onto her jiggling chest finally caused Tyrande to open her eyes—just in time to see Scot grab both of her hefty breasts within his greedy hands. His long canine tongue licked all over her constrained tits, lathering them in saliva and paying considerable attention to her rock hard nipples. Tyrande cried out and instinctively thrust her chest upwards into the tongue filling her with pleasure and driving her crazy. Scot knew what he was doing with his tongue, knew how women reacted to it. He focused his attention upon her nipples and began to fuck the matriarch with long hard strokes, mashing his hips into her after every thrust to make sure every fat inch of him was sheathed within the mewling night elf.

Tyrande was wide eyed and breathing heavily, raggedly, inbetween pleasure filled moans. She reached up and grabbed Scot by the head, pulling him in closer even as her legs did the same. She lifted her head up and eyed him, face inches from his own as she practically snarled at him, sharp fangs bared in her lust driven state.

"Yes! Yes! Keep licking me you beast!" A powerful thrust knocked the air out of her and she felt the worgen's potent balls come to a snug stop against her rosebud. The Kaldorei matriarch threw her head back and nearly shrieked as she once again came around her lover's manhood. This time, Scot came as well. The depositing of his seed within the elf was accompanied by a long, piercing howl. He clawed at the bed while Tyrande clawed maddeningly at his back and head. The contents of his balls seemed never-ending as he pumped his load into her. His warm baby batter flooded her insides, filling any crevices his ridiculous cock did not. Their combined juices dribbled out of her ruined pussy like a stream despite how tightly stuffed it was. By the time he was finished emptying his balls within the Kaldorei a puddle had formed upon the bed beneath them.

The two remained glowing in the aftermath for minutes before Scot rolled off her. His softening cock slid out of her and allowed their juices to freely flow down her ass and past her second, unused hole. Tyrande stretched languidly, a satisfied smile illuminating her face. Her legs were splayed wide and her crotch was a wet mess of cum and worgen fur. Her chest was no different with her large man-handled breasts coated in a thick layer of saliva. Even the elf's mouth was the same, covered with her own spittle.

"That was better than I expected, if I may be honest." Tyrande looked over to her hairy lover, eyes following him as he got up. She let out a surprised yelp as she was once again flipped over, this time onto her hands and knees. She looked back at him and bit her lip in anticipation. Scot had his hands upon her ass and was sawing his cock back and forth along the puffy lips of her pussy. Yet his objective was something else. The worgen moved a finger to her asshole, pressing against it and allowing a strand of drool to fall upon it. The sawing of his cock against the woman's used pussy continued as he did this, and one overly-aggressive hand left scratches upon an innocent purple cheek.

Scot eyed her unclaimed rosebud, eager to claim it as he had done her other hole. He leaned down and gave her one long lick, causing Tyrande to yelp as it dragged across both of her holes. He stood back up and grabbed his shaft, this time pressing the fat head of it against the elf's inviting ass. She squirmed as he forced the tip within her, not even an inch of his total length but certainly enough for her to feel it. He pressed on, slowly inserting inch after mind shattering inch of worgen cock into the most beautiful purple ass he had ever seen. He didn't stop until his entire length disappeared within it and his balls rested against Tyrande's thoroughly fucked pussy. His hands wrapped themselves around her thin waist as he began to go to work, fucking the matriarch's ass with long, deep strokes. Scot pulled her back into him with every thrust, eliciting increasingly loud groans from the woman. She had collapsed her upper body onto the bed, large breasts pancaked against the bed and her head drooling onto the sheets in an open mouthed demonstration of pleasure.

If Tyrande's pussy had looked stretched, her ass looked completely at it's limit. The ring of her asshole was spread wide and thin over his fat manhood. This was clearly far and beyond it's intended use. Despite this, she seemed to be enjoying herself. Between the drool, the fucked silly expression upon her face and her squirting onto his balls she seemed to have a thorough appreciation for anal sex. Her enjoyment wasn't exactly at the top of his priority list at the time, but he was glad none-the-less.

Scot continued to piston in and out of her, his grip upon her tightening even as she began to thrust her behind back against him. Her hole was maddening, and as a worgen he knew that word well. Her insides gripped and clenched around him as if trying to squeeze him for any seed remaining within his sack. Such a sensation he had not yet known until meeting this amazing woman. He let go of her waist and instead grabbed her by the arms, pulling her up and back into him as he continued to ravage her ass. Tyrande moaned her encouragement, spittle flying from her mouth and juices gushing down her thighs.