Chapter 9: Dwarf-Depthing Ritual
The only sound in the pit was Vorlag’s ragged breathing, a wet, shallow rhythm that echoed off the slick stone. He lay on his side, one hand draped protectively over the swollen curve of his belly, which gurgled softly with its liquid burden. The air hung thick with the smell of sex, dwarf ale, and the sharp, electrified ozone of spent magic.
Lysandra rose from her knees, her movements fluid and purposeful. She circled Vorlag like a predator assessing its prey, her silver hair a faint beacon in the dim light. Her fingers, still slick from fisting him, trailed lightly over the distended dome of his stomach.
“Still full,” she murmured, more to herself than to them. She applied a subtle pressure, and Vorlag groaned, a fresh trickle of milky white seeping from his lax hole onto the fur beneath him. “Good. It’s a shame to let such potent magic go to waste. It needs to be… circulated.”
Minalan watched, his own body thrumming with a restless energy. The sight of Vorlag, this pillar of dwarven strength reduced to a trembling, cum-stuffed vessel, sent a fresh surge of heat through his veins. His cock, which had softened only slightly, began to thicken and rise against his thigh, heavy and impatient.
“On your knees, Vol,” Lysandra commanded, her voice lacking any warmth. It was a directive, clear and sharp.
A low groan was Vorlag’s only protest, but his body obeyed, moving with a painful, lumbering slowness. He pushed himself up, his arms trembling with the effort of supporting his altered weight. He got to his knees, his bloated gut hanging heavily between his thighs, sloshing audibly with the movement.
“Now,” Lysandra said, turning her emerald eyes to Minalan. “Get behind him. I want you to feed him every inch. I want to watch his stomach deform around your cock.”
Minalan moved without hesitation. He positioned himself on his knees behind the dwarf, the head of his erection pressing against the spit-slicked, thoroughly ruined pucker. Vorlag’s body shuddered at the contact, a weak, preemptive clenching that had no hope of containing what was coming.
“Take it all, you drunken dwarf whore,” Lysandra hissed, placing a firm hand on Vorlag’s shoulder. “You wanted to be a breeding hole? Then get bred.”
With that, she shoved downwards with surprising strength.
Vorlag’s cry was strangled as gravity and force combined to impale him. Minalan’s footlong shaft disappeared into the dwarf’s body in one vicious, slam, the stretched ring of muscle yielding with a wet, sucking pop. The impact was brutal, bottoming out deep inside Vorlag’s gut. Minalan grunted, feeling the incredible heat and the constant, milking pressure of the dwarf’s internal muscles, which seemed to cling to his cock like a fist.
Vorlag’s eyes shot wide open, unfocused. His mouth gaped, but no sound came out. His own cock, which had been soft and spent, twitched violently and then erupted, firing a thick, unexpected rope of cum onto the furs beneath him. It was a purely reflexive act, his prostate hammered into submission by the sudden, overwhelming invasion.
“Again,” Lysandra ordered, her voice tight with excitement.
Minalan pulled back until just the tip remained lodged inside, then drove forward again. The sound was a meaty slap of flesh and a deeper, internal squelch as he displaced the seed already packed within Vorlag’s bowels.
“Fuck! Ah, gods!” Vorlag finally found his voice, a broken yell that echoed in the chamber. With each pounding thrust, his body jerked, and his cock responded with another helpless spurt. It was a grotesque fountain, each jet of dwarfseed a testament to the overwhelming stimulation. His swollen belly visibly shifted with Minalan’s movements, a faint outline of the cockhead sometimes pressing against the taut skin from the inside.
Lysandra watched, rapt, her hand moving between her own legs. “Look at you,” she breathed, her fingers working in a frantic rhythm. “Your guts are just a sheath for his cock. Your own dick is pissing cum like a bitch in heat. You’re nothing but a vessel, Vorlag. A perfect, used-up vessel.”
Minalan lost himself in the rhythm. The feedback was immediate and intense. The magical energy they generated wasn’t dissipating; it was concentrating, swirling in the pit like a storm. Each thrust sent a jolt through him, a surge of power that sharpened his senses and fueled his stamina. He could feel the individual rings of muscle inside Vorlag gripping and pulling at him, trying to coax out another massive load.
He gripped Vorlag’s hairy hips, his fingers digging into the dense muscle, and set a punishing pace. The slap of their bodies became a constant percussion underneath Vorlag’s choked grunts and Lysandra’s sharp, encouraging curses.
“Yeah, just like that! Make his eyes roll back! Make him forget his own name!”
Vorlag’s head lolled on his shoulders. He was barely conscious, a doll being fucked into oblivion. His stomach, sloshing and churning, was a canvas upon which Minalan’s internal movements were painted in subtle, disturbing waves. The dwarf’s release had become a constant, dripping leak, oozing from his tip with every inward thrust.
Minalan felt the familiar, tightening coil in his balls, the pressure building to a critical peak. He fucked into Vorlag with a final, desperate fury, grinding deep as his orgasm ripped through him. He cried out, burying his face between Vorlag’s shoulder blades as pulse after pulse of hot seed flooded the dwarf’s already overflowing depths. The new influx caused Vorlag’s belly to distend further, the skin stretching taut and shiny.
Vorlag’s body convulsed, his own cock giving a final, weak shudder before he finally, completely slumped forward, held up only by Minalan’s grip and the cock still embedded deep within him.
Minalan slid out slowly, his spent shaft glistening. Vorlag collapsed onto the furs, his body a wreck, his hole gaping wide, a steady stream of two loads of cum now pouring out of him to form a growing puddle.
Lysandra knelt, her excitement palpable. She ignored the unconscious dwarf for a moment, her eyes locked on the leaking ruins of his ass. “So much power,” she whispered, dipping her fingers into the flow and bringing them to her lips. “It’s… effervescent.”
She then turned her hungry gaze to Minalan, who was still kneeling, breathing heavily. “Your turn,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I need to feel that magic from the other side. I need you to fill me until I can taste it.”