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Turan	By : Agdistis Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 10633 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, nor any of its characters. I certainly make no money from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Turan
- 1
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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There was a thrumming pulse echoing in the Fade. If there had been air, it would have been like the reverberation of an impossibly large drum slowly being thumped. Or perhaps it was a mammoth heart pumping in excitement. Yet still it was more like the earth was being shaken by the movement of molten rock far beneath it. But there was no air in the Fade, or earth, or anything of any more substance than a dream. There was just the spirits and their will.
And something mortal.
The soundless reverberation was a love song to his ears. It washed over his being; it stirred feelings stronger than any earthly mind could produce. Hunger. Envy. Desperation. Excitement. So much emotion, so much promised in that thrumming silence. The dinner bell was ringing, and he was ready, and it had been long since his last meal. The eagerness to begin the feast almost overwhelmed him.
But it did not. Only the weak succumbed to temptation. He knew the results were always better if he took his time. The prey would go nowhere without him, after all. Nowhere at all.
So, he took a form. He became small, unnoticeable, a shadow in the dark. What were now his feet scurried along what was now the ground. His tail, which did not exist, slid along the roughness of the not earth. His whiskers pricked up at the sound of another’s footsteps, but it was nothing more than emulation.
All of this illusion was for the mortal. To make it feel assured and secure in the lie of the dream; to make it trust. To enfold it into a false world of dreams and expectations from which it would be unable to escape. It was an old tapestry of deceit that had smothered many mortals. There were few that escaped it.
A familiar sight appeared in the distance: the form of a mage. It was human, and female, and gloriously foreign to the Fade. Once more eagerness welled up inside him, compelling him to action. But, he reminded himself again, there was no rush. She would be his soon enough.
“Someone else thrown to the wolves,” He spoke in a voice he knew to be both angry and sympathetic. “As fresh and unprepared as ever.”
He weaved the tapestry of lies deeper every time he faced one of these feckless mages. Over the years he had refined the deception, cutting out fabrications that had not worked and adding new tactics that led to better results. The difficulty, he had found, was that each mortal responded differently to the same lie. So his falsehood had grown to encompass every reaction that a mortal could be expected to make to his fable.
Sometimes it was a difficult sell, and required that he take certain forms to gain the right sympathies. An old man, a young child, a plain apprentice; the choice was always critical and sometimes it frustrated him how strangely a mortal could react to the wrong visage.
Right now, however, he marveled at how simple it was to mislead his new plaything. She asked exactly the right questions, changed topics when prompted, followed and swallowed his lies like a duck chasing after breadcrumbs straight into the butcher’s parlor.
He suggested that he accompany her; she agreed. He walked behind her, knowing that the world he had created for her would take her exactly where he wanted her to go. It was just another thread in the blanket of deceit, woven with painstaking patience and time. He laughed inwardly at the thought that she believed she was making her own choices.
It was not by chance that Valor waited for her. The benevolent spirit gave her weapons, and gave her confidence. The weapon was nothing, a trifle that could do no harm to him. The confidence was everything, for it was baseless and misleading. It gave hope when there was none, which was more help to him than fear would be.
And then they came to Sloth. A thrall of his, obedient as any common wisp. Sloth would test her and boost her confidence even further, or devour her himself. The former would place her in nearly perfect position for him to strike. The latter would be a disappointment, but not truly unfortunate. If the mortal was too weak, she would never be able to properly contain his presence in the mortal world.
But that worry was unnecessary. Her tongue held more wit than he would have given credit, and she passed the Sloth demon’s riddles without confrontation. His hunger for her grew ever more, making it easy for him to share in her excitement at winning.
The clever were always so delicious when they fell.
It was time for the final thread to be sewn into place. To a place of fire he led her, making sure to place his weaker minions in her path. The danger had to seem real, but not hopeless. One of his stronger servants waited in the ring of flame, a place of theatrical quality that seemed to help put mortals in the right state of mind. Rage waited impatiently, weak in his lack of willpower. But his was the most important role in the woven lie. He always played the part perfectly, which was why he kept the fool around. His ‘death’ was so very convincing to a mortal’s eyes.
When the battle came to its predictable conclusion the proud mortal rejoiced in her accomplishments, and reveled in her triumph of surviving the Harrowing. How pathetic she was. How tasty she would be.
He smiled joyfully at her, prepared with a congratulations meant to boost the fools ego, solidifying the thought of her prowess over the Fade. But she spoke first.
“That was fun,” She smiled at him. “Far more fun than watching.”
A strand of doubt threaded its way into his tapestry.
“What do you mean?” He demanded in a voice crafted of incredulity. “Watching what?”
She laughed. It was a lilting song, feminine and light, so unlike the thrum of her entrance to his realm. It was so much less beautiful to his ears.
“I’ve seen you ply your craft so many times before. Not that you ever notice me. I suppose I’m just too ‘weak’ to attract your notice.” Her smile did not touch her eyes now. Another emotion lived in them, one that he was intimately familiar with. It was something he had only ever felt towards others, never seen, never imagined to be directed at him.
Hunger.
“You are so proud of your work, aren’t you? Such clever tales you tell. It’s no wonder that so many have fallen before you.”
The fabric ripped, lost its strength, and tore.
“So you know me, do you?” He lost the humanity in his voice. It hardly seemed to matter now. “Such a clever mage. I suppose you think you have escaped now that the test is over?” He growled deeply, “True tests never end.”
“Oh, but I never said I wanted to escape.”
That brought pause to his mind. Was this mage less noble than she had made herself appear to be? Only the very foolish and the very corrupt ever sought out a demon. It was most often the spirits that would entreat and deceive the unwary into possession with promises of power, not the other way around. She did not seem any more stupid than any other mortal. But neither did she feel corrupt.
“Do you offer a bargain, milady?” He asked with mock politeness. That would be an acceptable turn in their dealings. Such deals never ended well for anyone with a soul to lose.
“A proposition.” She smiled seductively, came closer, whispered in his ear. “I proposition you.”
He growled. This was a fool mortal, after all. “You offer me nothing. Fleshly pleasures are worthless to me, especially here. That will not buy you my power.”
“You misunderstand. I want to take You, then you can take Me.”
Now he considered her words carefully. What strange mortal was this that would so eagerly agree to her destruction, for such a small price? Most likely she thought to trick him, he mused, as many mortals thought themselves clever enough to match wits with demons. They were not. If her soul was perverted enough to desire unearthly flesh, he would gladly provide that flesh for and destroy her wicked soul in the process. She would be his portal away from the Fade yet.
Without preamble, he cast aside his torn fabric of lies. He became what he was, how other eyes were truly meant to see him. Huge and dark and studded with spikes and spiraling horns, he became strength incarnate. He was hard as steel, and many times more dangerous. He reached his presence outward and consumed the sky with his bulk.
“Magnificent,” The mage whispered reverentially. “You have every reason to be proud.”
He was silent, declining to speak while he focused his will and altered his usual shape. He grew the appendage he knew was necessary for copulation, which was not a part of his natural form. It was dark and hard like the rest of him, jutting outwards to span a distance greater than the mage’s arm would be able to reach. Its massive tip hung at eye level with the mage, only a breath away from her entranced face.
“Magnificent,” She repeated herself, but said nothing more as her clever tongue slipped from her mouth and began to slowly explore the spiked crown of his cockhead.
He had never been one to care for physical pleasure. Lust was the realm of the Desire Demons and he felt no qualms about leaving that facet of mortals to the spirits of seduction. Not that he did not partake of bodily delights in the mortal world, but it had always seemed pointless in the Fade. Even so, he was still capable of feeling the sensations his loins were now supposed to provide him with, even while in the dream world. He allowed himself to enjoy the little mage’s skilled ministrations. There was no reason not to.
Her hands groped along his length in a desperate way, not nearly big enough to wrap around his hardness but still trying. Her mouth in its current form was not large enough to encompass even half of his head, though she attempted to with wanton need. He briefly wondered why mortals always kept their forms in the Fade so static, even when a shift in structure would suit their desires better, but quickly decided it was most likely due to their lacking intellect. It did not matter either way, since this was meant to satisfy her, not him. Still, her obvious lust for him was pleasing, so he imitated what the body of a real mortal would do and began to produce a stream of pre-ejaculate as a sign of approval for her actions. When the fluid splashed onto her tongue, she greedily began lapping the substance up and doubled the intensity of her sucking and stroking.
Over time, it became obvious that her attempts to fellate him were not going to end soon. As much as he was enjoying her efforts, he knew the mage’s time was limited. This whole encounter would be a waste if her mortal body was destroyed on the other side. Taking action, he reached down with one of his clawed hands and began to fondle her lower body.
Her response was to push her ass against his palm and fingers, eagerly accepting his touch. Her legs parted, and as he slid one of his giant claws between her thighs he easily felt her heat and wetness through the fabric of her imaginary robes.
Not willing to waste any more time, he violently tore the lower half of her garments from her body, leaving her exposed from the waist downwards. She only protested when he lifted her body into the air, taking his cock out of her mouth’s reach. Those protests died quickly as he centered her womanhood against the apex of his massive phallus.
He did not bother asking if she was prepared to take him. She had already expressed her willingness, and there was no reason to be gentle in the nonexistence of the Fade. If she felt pain, that was her own doing. Roughly, he wrapped his right hand around her calf, and held her in place with his left. Then, with unwavering strength, he began to pull her down on to him.
The mage’s body did not accommodate him right away. The size difference was too great for a smooth entry. For some seconds, the lips of her cunt merely mashed against his rounded cockhead. Then, they began to give way and his tip entered into her. Only half of the head was inside the mage, but she had already begun crying out piercingly. Whether in pain or pleasure he could not readily distinguish.
With a sudden violent jerk, he pulled her body over the widest part of his spiked glans. At that, her screams reached a crescendo. He smiled then, and began the true penetration.
If her body had been real, it would have ruptured and been split in twain by his fencepost sized rod. Instead, the surreal nature of the Fade allowed her stomach to stretch to an obscene size as her pelvis managed to mash against his own.
As soon as he completed the first introductory motion, he immediately began to piston her up and down at a rigorous tempo. As each penetrating lunge forced its way to impossible depths, the mage would shriek at the high point and moan as he pulled out. If he had any question as to whether or not she was enjoying herself, it was answered by her hands grasping and groping at her own still clothed bosom.
As her mouth was open in constant screams, he decided to take advantage and shoved his oversized tongue into the inviting orifice. As soon as he had entered her with this second appendage, she began to suck on his thick muscular length with gusto. As she was so welcoming, he shoved deeper and began to piston in and out of her throat in a counter beat to his lower body’s thrusting. The mage did not object, and instead wrapped her hands around the edges of his thorny crown and pulled his face closer to her own.
As his torturous pleasuring of the mage continued, he lost himself to the feeling of the moment and began to groan in time with her. His deep baritone grumbling echoed her shrill and needy moans. In the pit of his being, he felt pressure and strain, and new that his orgasm was approaching.
Except, he was not willing this orgasm to be. They were in the Fade. His body was nothing more than an illusion; its functions were just imitations. Nothing should happen concerning his false body unless he willed it to be so. He was untouchable here. Nothing could influence him. Nothing!
Unless a strong will should act against his own.
An unfamiliar emotion welled up inside him at that moment. He knew it was called Panic because he had caused it in countless others. But now an other was causing it in him, and he did not know what to do.
He tried to stop his motions, but found that he could not. His body was moving of its own accord now, eagerly fucking the mage’s flesh with abandon. He felt the tension in his lower body rise, but could do nothing to stop it. In a fit of panicked horror he managed to withdraw his tongue from the mage’s mouth and cry out in anger.
“What Have You DONE!?”
The mortal did not acknowledge him. She just continued to cry out in lustful need.
The strain had now spread throughout his entire body, the tension causing his otherworldly flesh to swell to an extreme tautness. His control was now completely gone. As his mind began to spiral further out of control with each bone-jarring thrust of his member into the little mortal’s being, he cried out one last time with the full force of his spirit.
A river of white sticky fluid erupted from the tip of his cock. It flowed out freely in gallons and gushes, spraying out from between the stretched cunt of the mage and his pulsating pillar. The liquid covered her legs and knees as it sprayed out, and pooled on the ground far beneath her dangling feet.
But with the false seed, he felt his essence flowing out of himself. All of his power and will, everything of his spirit, escaped from his possession and entered into the mage. She devoured his being, sucked it in and down to the core of her soul where it became a part of her.
It seemed that in both an age and an instant, he was down to the very last bit of coherent energy that could still be called him. The illusion that had been his body was a transparent shell. There was nothing left. However, before his last speck of substance could be consumed, the mage broke away.
With a sticky thud, she fell to the goop-covered ground on her ass. The image of him that had been a nightmare of reality to all those that had faced it had utterly disappeared. He was now no more than a small wisp of barely lucid light.
As he floated in a wavering circle, attempting to express every bile-ridden emotion he knew but lacking any means to, the mage stood up from her sticky position on the ground. Gently, she grasped the fluttering wisp and brought it close to her lips.
“Thank you, Demon,” She whispered almost affectionately. “I will be able to put your power to good use in the real world.”
Tenderly, she stroked the silently screaming spirit with the tips of her slender fingers.
“I have passed my Harrowing, thanks to you. Now the real test begins.”
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…I hope I have all the right content codes on here. I have a great deal planned.
-Agdistis
- 1
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Turan