[b][u][center]Something Smells For Wolfrider By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b] Basic hero work - go to the tower and save the lady locked inside. It was basically a rite of passage for any sort of adventurer, and it was one of the things that really showed that you’d arrived as someone that knew what they were doing. That, and it usually got you laid. That was a big plus. Daniel had done it twice, and this was his third go at the whole rescuing a princess from a tower gig. It was more fun for him than most of the other adventuring work that he got paid to do, it got him sex with pretty ladies, and more to the point, it kept other adventurers from crowding the ranks of the adventuring guild. All around win-win, for him. He was halfway up the tower when he paused for a break, putting one metal-booted foot on a brick that stuck out, and took the moment to wipe his forehead. “Towers are getting taller all the time…” He looked down. He had to be about a hundred feet up already, which was positively ridiculous. Sure, most of the rescue towers had food teleported in to save on security costs, and there was always the possibility of using more magic to have conversations with people on the outside so that visitors didn’t need to visit the ground floor, but it was still ridiculous. The lion shook his head, grabbing the rope a bit tighter as he continued his journey upwards. [i]Better be a hot princess,[/i] he thought to himself, dragging himself up, up, up the side of the sheer wall of the tower. [i]Those guys down at the tavern better not have been jerking my chain on this one…[/i] According to the local rumor mill, the princess in this tower was one of the better ones. Big breasted, big hipped, big ass, with hair that ran all the way down to her waist and a kingdom that had plenty of money to spare. She was the sort that anyone hoped to bag as their first rescue, and if all the rumors were true, she’d bring in a good bit of money for him, too. Enough to let him relax a bit in that new manor he was having built. “Almost...there…” Finally able to reach the windowsill, Daniel grabbed it with both hands, letting the rope drop against the stone wall. The lion had to force himself to climb a bit further, poking his head over the edge of the window. Just like usual. A bedroom with a carpet on the floor, one door that led down to the lower levels of the tower, and - Wait… The lion blinked at the riding crop on the wall, staring at it before shaking his head. If someone wanted to give the princess something kinky to play with, who was he to judge? [i]Long as she doesn’t try to use it on me.[/i] Dragging himself over the window with a grunt and a groan, Daniel barely got both feet on the stone floor before he heard an ominous sound, as ominous as any adventurer had ever heard before. Snickt. The rope. It was cut. He turned around, staring at the falling length of rope, the claw-headed tip falling to the ground at his feet. The lion slowly turned the rest of the way to see who had done it. Whoever it was, they were little more than a silhouette in the shadows of the room, smirking...and stinking. “Oh god…” He groaned, covering his face with one metal gauntlet. “What the...oh god, you reek...What the hell…” It was like smelling one of the common folk, one of the common folk that had been working all day long, then went to work through the night, then bathed in the summer sun for another week. All without a bath. He coughed, shaking his head as he reached for his sword - “Ah ah.” A dagger, probably the same dagger that had cut the rope, darted from the shadow. It pressed against his neck, freezing him in place. “I wouldn’t take that out, if I were you…” His cheeks burned as he realized that the shadowy figure was taller than him, and they burned brighter as the figure stepped forward. It wasn’t a man, but a woman, though one that had a deep enough voice. She was a white-feathered chicken, one with a large pair of breasts, alright, and with hips and thighs that could probably kill a man. She swayed forward, the latex that she wore clinging to her tightly, squeaking slowly. “Who...who the…” He couldn’t quite summon the bravado to ask her who the hell she was, considering she even loomed over him, nearly a foot taller and grinning down at him as she kept that knife against his neck. The chicken smirked, chuckling. “My name is Christa. And for now, you are my prisoner.” “Where’s the princess?” “Princess? There’s people still putting that rumor around?” [i]Oh, great…[/i] That explained why this tower hadn’t been pillaged just yet. There was no princess, just this...creature. She laughed, tilting her head back just enough for him to risk a move. He swept his hand up, the metal gauntlet smacking the knife out of the way, and he spun backwards, giving himself some space to pull out his sword. “Whoever you are, you’re going to regret challenging me.” “Did you not hear a word I just said?” the chicken asked. “I’m Christa, and you -” “I am not your prisoner.” “Oh, you will be.” She grinned, tossing the knife to the side. “I don’t even need that. Not when I have these.” She pulled her arms over her head, flexing them, and hard. Her biceps bulged, her arms thicker than the knights that he had trained with and the guards that had occasionally brained him over the back of his head. But it was the smell - “Ugh! God...god, it’s like...rotten eggs…” He covered his nose, but she was already charging. CLANG! He managed to block her, barely, with his sword for the first blow, but the second was a punch right into his wrist that knocked his hand back. The third was a blow to the blade that knocked it out of his hand. The fourth was a punch right to his neck. He gasped for breath, choking for a moment, only for the chicken to grab him by the back of his neck and pull him close. His nose was slammed right into her armpit, and the raw stink that he had been dealing with from afar was suddenly right against his nose. “MMMMPH!” The lion struggled to pull away, but she was strong. Too strong. She grabbed him around his muzzle, keeping him from breathing anywhere but through his nose, sucking in her sweaty stink, her musky pits. She pushed him back, pinning him to the bed while keeping his nose in her pit. “Hehehe, what’s the matter, hmm? Too weak to beat a chicken?” “Mmmph!” “Go on, take it in. You’re going to be smelling much worse by the time the day’s over.” She held him down, her bodyweight and her size enough to keep him pinned despite his best efforts to escape. He could hear her undoing straps and buttons, and he feared what would happen next. For that matter, he feared that he was going to die in the stinkhole of the space beneath her arm. [i]So...bad…[/i] It was so sweaty, so foul, but there was no escape. The humiliation of being overcome...it...it… It was starting to turn him on a little. “Now, let’s see how long it takes to break an adventurer with smell…” # It was a horrendous few hours. She kept moving, kept forcing his nose into different places. Her pits were bad, but her breasts were worse, the big things settled on feathers that hadn’t been cleaned in who knew how long. Then he was taken between her thighs. Then along her ass, smothered beneath it, held beneath her curves as he struggled. Through it all, while he was tortured with her stink, she was gradually undressing him, taking away more and more of his armor. They came off in bits and pieces, and every so often he had the chance to fight and squirm, but it was never enough. Not nearly enough. She always pinned him again, and soon, he was back under her control. By the time they were both nude, his shame was finally revealed. His cock pointed straight up as she got his loincloth off, and the lion wanted to die of shame. “Hehehe, what do we have here…” She flicked a finger across the head of his cock, shaking her head. “Is that because you like the stink...or because you like bigger women?” He refused to answer. “At any rate, it doesn’t matter...because just like you, this is mine now,” Christa said, giving his cock a squeeze. “And since it’s might...I might as well mark it.” The idea of the chicken doing anything to him was frightening enough, but as she straddled him, her pussy right over his cock, grinding down on it, he realized what she meant. Mark him, cover him, soak him in her scent, so that everyone knew who he’d run into from that day on. He wished it didn’t make him harder. [b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]