The Quantum Wanderer

The next couple of days I resume into my routine. Easy routine. Today we are going to have the Shezmu celebration in the elven city.

We go down for breakfast. After I finish eating my breakfast, I turn to Cecilia, while the other girls are still eating.

“Cecs, what should I expect from this party?”

“It is not just a party, it is more like this huge festival in each city. There are going to be several points with food, and several points with drinks. It is a big celebration of life promoted by the elves. It celebrates the birth of the first dryad.”

I look at the other girls, they nod at me.

“What time does it start?”

“In the morning, before the rain. Everyone gets bathed in the rain, it is part of their celebration to be washed with water falling from the skies.”

“Are we going to stay wet in the afternoon.”

“Just a little bit, but it is not going to be uncomfortable.”

We finish our breakfast, we go up to our room to dress something appropriate for the festival. I put something rather light, considering that I am going to get drenched in the afternoon. The girls put on some dresses as well.

We portal to our home in the elven city.

We are taken to an open area with chaises all around, places to sit, tables, in the main square, where we are brought to a vip like area. There is this subtle sound of music coming from the forest. There is a feast in front of us, mostly vegan but tasty, containing fruits and nuts. Some flowers shaped like a cup contain drinks. We start eating and drinking. The liquor is a lot stronger than usual.

We keep talking about some light subjects. Ruby has a weird face on her.

The time goes by, and the rain hits. Everyone enjoy the rain on them. The summer tropical rain is quick and intense. The water washes out from the furniture that was provided by the forest. It gets absorbed or it goes through the drains here and there.

The rain finally ceases its drumming against the floor, leaving behind a heaviness in the air that goes far beyond humidity. Petrichor—the scent of earth awakening—weaves through the elven glade, but it carries something else now, something the dryads have been cultivating in their hidden groves for centuries. Golden pollen, thick and shimmering, drifts down from the ancient oak canopy like lazy snow, settling on exposed skin, dissolving on tongues, infiltrating lungs with every heated breath.

I've been watching it happen for hours. The banquet tables groan under roasted game and honeyed wines, but it is the atmosphere that truly intoxicates. My five wives flank me at the head table, their dragon heat radiating against the cool post-storm air. Opal and Shandon, mirror images of winter with their platinum hair cascading to their waists, silver eyes gleaming with predatory amusement. Ruby, a burning brand beside them, her crimson locks catching the torchlight like actual flame, her curves barely contained by the sheer elven silks we've been gifted. Aquamarine, the cool counterpoint, blue hair the color of deep ocean trenches, her nipples hard and visible through the damp fabric clinging to her perfect tits. And Cecilia, my human queen, her dark curls wild and her pupils already blown wide as she inhales the heady mixture of rain-magic and sex-magic saturating the grove.

The dryads emerge. They are small, crafted of bark and leaf and vine, moving with the jerky grace of saplings in wind. The elves revere them, dropping to knees as the plant-girls skip between tables. But the dryads aren't interested in worship tonight. They whisper to the female elves—the warriors, the nobles, the priestesses—and wherever their tiny fingers brush, skin flushes dark. They point. They giggle with voices like rustling leaves. And they point at me.

"Master," Ruby purrs, her hand sliding up my thigh under the table, nails digging into my cock through the thin linen. "The little forest spirits want to share their women with you. Look how they're preparing them."

She is right. The dryads are herding the elf women toward the center of the area, away from their male counterparts. The pollen is thicker there, a golden haze. The elven men—the princes and rangers and lords who've been eyeing my wives with lust all evening—they are slumping now, faces hitting plates of venison as a subtle enchantment takes hold. Not dead, merely... sleeping. Deeply, dreamlessly, their cocks useless and their bodies inert while the women around them wake up.

"Fuck," Cecilia moans, her hand joining Ruby's, both of them stroking me now under the table where any of the remaining conscious elves can see. "The air is so thick, Marcelo. My pussy is dripping. Look at them."

The explosion of lesbian desire isn't sudden—it is a cascade. One elf noblewoman, her ears long and delicate, turns to the warrior beside her and simply rips the bodice off her dress. Breasts spill out, and the warrior's mouth descends immediately, sucking dark nipples into her mouth with desperate, animal noises. That is the catalyst. Within seconds, twenty, thirty elf women are tearing at each other, silk ripping, mouths colliding, hands plunging between legs with no pretense of foreplay.

Aquamarine stands up, her blue hair swinging, and sheds her dress in one fluid motion. Her body is perfection sculpted by dragon magic, toned stomach leading down to a shaved cunt that glistens with arousal. "Opal. Shandon. Bring them to him," she commands, her voice carrying the authority of the sea.

My white-haired twins move like ghosts through the writhing mass of elven flesh. Opal grabs a blonde archer by the hair, pulling her away from the redhead she is tribbing against, while Shandon seizes a dark-skinned priestess whose fingers are buried knuckle-deep in another elf. They drag them to the head table, the women docile and panting, eyes glazed with pollen and lust.

"Please," the archer whimpers, falling to her knees before me. "The dryads said... they said the dragon lord would fill us. They said we need your seed."

"You'll take more than seed," Shandon growls, her white hair tickling my neck as she leans over me from behind, crushing her tits against my back. She reaches around and rips my linen pants open, freeing my cock—which is already rock-hard, throbbing, veins prominent along its substantial length. "You'll take every inch. And you'll thank him."

The orgy proper begins as my wives orchestrate the chaos. Ruby and Cecilia descend on the priestess, tearing her ceremonial robes away to reveal lean, muscular limbs. They push her face-first onto the banquet table, her cheek pressing against a spilled goblet of wine, and Ruby buries her face in the elf's ass without preamble, her red hair creating a curtain as she licks from cunt to asshole with dragon tongue flexibility.

Aquamarine leads three more elf women to us by their hands, their pointed ears twitching with arousal. "Marcelo, these ones are warriors. They need to be broken." She pushes the first one—a tall woman with battle scars and muscular thighs—to her knees beside the archer. "Suck him. Both of you. Share his cock like good little elven sluts."

The sensation is overwhelming. Two wet, desperate mouths are on my shaft, the archer's tongue soft and fluttering while the warrior tries to take me deeper, gagging as she forces her throat open. Above them, Opal climbs onto the table, her white hair creating a halo as she squats over my face, her dragon-pussy dripping nectar onto my chin. "Eat me while they worship you, husband," she demands, grinding down onto my mouth.

The taste is exotic, metallic and sweet, like lightning and honey. My tongue drives up into her cunt as the elves below struggle to coordinate their blowjob, their hands fighting to stroke my balls and shaft while their mouths work the head. Shandon isn't idle either—I feel her fingers, slick with her own arousal, pressing against my asshole, teasing, circling, while her other hand reaches forward to twist the warrior's nipples viciously.

"Harder," Shandon commands the elves. "He likes it messy. Sloppy. Show him how the forest whores worship cock."

The room is a symphony of fucking. Beyond our immediate circle, the pavilion has become a mass of undulating bodies. Elf women sixty-nine on fur rugs, scissoring with their clits rubbing together frantically. One elf is suspended from a chandelier, three others taking turns eating her out while she screams in the ancient tongue. The dryads watch from the rafters, clapping their wooden hands, their influence making the elf women crazed, insatiable.

Cecilia drags the priestess off the table and throws her at my feet. "Ruby's got her ready," Cecilia pants, her own fingers buried in her cunt. "Fuck her, Marcelo. Fuck her while Opal rides your face. Let's see if elves can take dragon-sized cock."

They position her—the priestess is bent over, her ass in the air, Ruby's spit coating her holes. The warrior and archer are pulled away from my cock, whining in protest, only to be replaced by Aquamarine's mouth as she deepthroats me with inhuman dragon capacity, her throat bulging.

Then Cecilia guides me into the priestess. The elf screams as my cock, slick with Aquamarine's throat slime, presses against her entrance. She is tight, impossibly tight, her cunt gripping like a vice despite how wet she is. The pollen has made her sensitive, and she comes immediately, her body convulsing, elf pussy fluttering around my shaft as Cecilia holds her hips steady.

"Don't you dare stop," Opal snarls from above, grinding her clit against my nose. "Fuck through her orgasm. Make her see stars."

The rhythm is brutal. The table shakes as the warrior and archer are forced to watch, their faces pressed together, sharing sloppy kisses while Shandon fingers them both from behind. Aquamarine moves to straddle the priestess's face, forcing the elf to eat dragon cunt while being pounded by the human apex cock. The sounds are obscene: wet slaps of flesh, the gurgling of the elf trying to breathe and lick simultaneously, Opal's commanding moans as she uses my face.

"More," Ruby demands, her red hair wild. She grabs another elf—a bard with delicate fingers—and impales her on the archer's face, creating a chain of oral worship while she herself mounts the warrior, rubbing against the elf's muscular thigh. "We need more cunts for you, Marcelo. You can go all night—the pollen makes you insatiable too, doesn't it?"

It is true. My stamina is supernatural, the aphrodisiac air keeping me hard as steel even as the priestess comes twice more, squirting around my cock, her juices running down to coat my balls. When Opal finally climaxes on my tongue, her dragon nectar flooding my mouth, she moves aside only for Shandon to take her place, her white hair creating a new curtain as she demands the same treatment.

They rotate me. Like a ritual object, like the fertility god the dryads have proclaimed me to be. Cecilia and Aquamarine drag me to a pile of cushions in the center of the pavilion, surrounded by the writhing mass. Ruby brings three more elf women—a twins pair with silver hair and their elder sister, a matron with huge, heavy breasts.

"All of them," Ruby commands, her eyes glowing with draconic fire. "One in your mouth, one on your cock, one on your hand. Now."

The positioning is complex, a geometry of lust. The matron straddles me, her massive tits swinging in my face as she sinks down onto my cock, her cunt looser but hotter, experienced muscles milking me. The elder twin sits on my face, her pussy shaved and smelling of rain and flowers, while the younger twin impales herself on my fingers, riding my hand with abandon as Shandon holds her steady and bites her neck.

Around us, the five wives form a circle of dominance. They take turns with the remaining elf women, fisting them, eating them, using dragon tongues that can extend and curl in impossible ways to drive the elves into seizure-like orgasms. Opal is knuckle-deep in two elves at once, her white hair stained with their juices. Cecilia has a line of elf women waiting to be spanked, her human hand leaving red marks on immortal flesh.

"Swap," Aquamarine orders, her blue hair soaked with sweat and elf squirt. "Marcelo, fill the matron. Breed her like the dryads want. Then we take the warriors again."

The matron elf screams as she feels my cock swell, the base knotting slightly as the magic in my blood responds to the chaos. She comes with her back arched, her cunt spasming so hard it almost hurts, and as she squirts her release, my own orgasm hits—a torrent, pumping hot seed deep into her elf womb, filling her until it overflows, running down onto the cushions.

But the night is young. The pollen keeps the moon high, time dilates. The wives aren't done with me. They never are. As Ruby slides off, leaking my seed, she immediately is replaced by the warrior from earlier—the one who tried to deepthroat me. "My turn to feel him breed me," Ruby growls, her red hair wrapping around my neck like a leash. She sinks onto my still-hard cock, her dragon cunt different, hotter, textured in ways that make me see spots. "Fuck me, Marcelo. Fuck me while Opal and Shandon use those twins."

The twins are positioned on either side of me, their silver hair creating a frame as the white-haired dragons take them from behind with strap-ons carved from crystal, fucking them in time with my thrusts into Ruby. Cecilia and Aquamarine have orchestrated a chain—a line of six elf women eating each other out, ass to face, creating a river of pleasure that ends at my feet where they can look up and watch their dragon queen being ravaged.

"Look at them," Ruby pants, her tits bouncing as she rides me violently, using me for her pleasure. "All these elven bitches, denied their men, filled with dryad magic and dragon seed. You're claiming this whole fucking forest tonight, Marcelo. Every cunt here is yours."

The second orgasm builds slower, drawn out by the constant rotation of mouths and hands. Shandon leans over and spits into Ruby's asshole, then fingers her there while she rides me, creating a tight ring of pressure through the thin membrane separating her holes. The warrior elf, not to be denied, straddles my face again, grinding her clit against my tongue while Ruby uses my cock.

When the dryads begin to sing louder, the pollen thickens to syrup. The elf women become frantic, competing for attention, dragging my hands to their holes, begging to be filled. Aquamarine starts fisting two at once, her blue hair dripping with their arousal, while Cecilia lies on her back and becomes the center of a bukkake-like scene where elf after elf squirts on her tits, her face, her open mouth.

"Give me your cum," Ruby screams, her dragon form flickering around the edges, scales appearing on her shoulders as she loses control. "Fill your dragon wife while the elves watch. Mark me as yours in front of all of them."

The second release is harder, painful in its intensity, pumping what feels like gallons into Ruby's clutching cunt. She comes simultaneously, her dragon pussy locking down, milking me with muscular contractions that feel like they are trying to pull my balls out through my cock. She squirts around my shaft, a hot gush that splashes across my stomach and the twins beside us.

But the wives aren't done with me. They never are. As Ruby slides off, leaking my seed, Opal and Shandon bring forward the high priestess of the elves—a woman with golden skin and hair like spun starlight, the only one who has resisted the pollen's full effect until now.

"Break her," Opal whispers, her white hair creating a curtain around us. "Make her forget her gods. Make her worship only your cock."

They position her on her hands and knees. Aquamarine holds her head up by the hair, forcing her to watch as Shandon licks my cock clean of Ruby's juices and the matron's remnants. Then Cecilia guides me into the high priestess from behind, and the scream that tears from the elf's throat is religious in its intensity, a prayer and a blasphemy combined.

The orgy enters its final, brutal phase. Hours have passed. The pavilion floor is slick with sweat, wine, squirt, and seed. My wives take turns being filled, then use their dragon strength to hold elf women open for me, spreading legs and cheeks, presenting holes like offerings. The dryads have descended from the rafters to dance around us, their plant-bodies shedding flowers that fall onto the writhing bodies like confetti.

Double penetrations begin. Ruby and Aquamarine work together, one guiding my cock into an elf's cunt while the other pushes fingers—or in Aquamarine's case, her whole slender hand if the elf is loose enough from the pollen's relaxation effects-into the same woman's ass. The high priestess takes me in her ass while Cecilia sits on her face, using her tongue while Opal spanks the priestess's cheeks red.

"More," Shandon chants, her white hair wild. "More, more, more. The dryads demand fertility. Fill them all, Marcelo. Empty your balls into every elf here."

The final sequence is a blur of sensation. They line the elf women up, ten of them, on their backs with legs spread, forming a gauntlet of pussy. My wives walk beside me as move from one to the next, sampling each cunt, each asshole, each mouth, spending only minutes in each before moving to the next, leaving a trail of dripping cum. The elf women beg for more, clawing at me, their inhibitions completely destroyed by the pollen and the dryad magic.

When the final elf—a young scout with pointed ears and trembling thighs takes my final load, her cunt already filled with the mixed seed of my previous releases, the dryads sing a final note. The pollen begins to clear, drifting away on the post-rain breeze.

My five wives collapse around me, their dragon bodies satisfied but still radiating heat. The elf women lie strewn about, bred and marked, their men still sleeping peacefully at the tables. The dryads skip away into the forest, their work done, having successfully used me to ensure the elven fertility for the season.

Cecilia crawls into my lap, her body covered in the fluids of a dozen women. "My love," she whispers. "The dryads will remember this. They'll want you back every year."

"And we'll bring him back," Ruby purrs, her red hair spread across an elf woman's back like a blanket. "Won't we, sisters?"

"Yes," chorus Opal, Shandon, and Aquamarine, their voices harmonizing like wind through winter pines.

I look around myself. The sun is setting, and everyone but me and my girls are falling asleep right where they stand. I am also tired, but I would like to sleep at home. I open a portal, we go home.

Our dinner is really quick, and we go to our room to rest. I don’t even remember falling asleep.

Next morning, I wake up relaxed. I really enjoyed the previous day. We go down for breakfast.

The girls and I have an appetite. We end up asking Roberta to provide some additional food after we are done. Not a lot, though. As I finish my breakfast, I turn to Cecilia.

“Cecs, I have a couple of questions about what happened yesterday…”

“Yes, my villain?”

“What the hell was that?”

“That was a celebration of life. That actually happens throughout all the forest, apparently. All kinds of animals, monsters and whatnot go into the state we saw yesterday. The elves are a little more… Elaborate in the whole thing.”

“Ok… Aren’t the elves going to, I don’t know, want either my head or my balls on a silver platter?”

I had forgotten about Charles and Lucille, they are staring at me. Ruby snorts. She almost chokes with the piece of steak she is chewing on.

“The dryads were the ones that prepared the stage. We just mentioned to them your… Preferences…?”

“Ok, I know I am a hypocrite. But still, is everything going to be alright? Is not anyone going to be angry? I would be really, really pissed if something like that happened to you girls and I.”

“Nah. Just relax. Did you not enjoy it?”

“I did, of course.”

Opal stops eating for a moment.

“That is what we want to hear, my lord.”

“In that case, thank you very much. I enjoyed a lot.”

“Wife, we should probably start walking backwards in this house… Father is a danger.” Muninn says, laughing.

Ruby snorts, and Cecilia giggles.