The Isles of World's End: The Antiphone

Hey evvvverehbody! (Hi, Doctor Nick!) This will be a story with an eventual conclusion, so hopefully I keep up with it. It's set in a fictional world where futanari sorceresses rule, but of course, there's trouble afoot! What sort of trouble is for our intrepid heroines to find out. Part pulp action, and part steamy futarotica, and hopefully all enjoyable. Hopefully you get a kick out of this and the rest to come.

- Melvin CRASS!

THE ISLES OF WORLD'S END

CHAPTER ONE

THE ANTIPHONE

KINKS: Double penetration, drinking cum, cumming inside, light bondage, futa-futa-female

NOTE: So far, all violence, combat, and gore is non-sexual.

~*~

The Isles of World's End, a mythical place. Locked in a time of ten-thousand years past, and yet civilization flourishes. Humankind rides on the backs of terrible lizards, and even shares space with these same lizards' bipedal descendants! Witches and sorceresses rule the islands from mighty towers and talk to dragons of all things, conspiring to commit evil deeds.

And yet, what a land of wealth it is! Gold drips from every man's pocket like water, and the cave-mines – the special province of men on these islands – are filled with jewels to the point that just running your hand across the walls will buy you a castle in these poor provinces. There is work to be found for honest hands and those less honest, for swords and for hammers. A year working in the Isles could make you a king on your return.

But always be wary, for where there is much wealth, there is also much danger…

~*~

Thaya stood near the prow of the mighty sleek carrack Antiphone, her hand on the sturdy rail. Her dusky skin marked her out amongst the paler crew – children of the northern cities, all, and proud of it. Black hair fell in messy ringlets about her face, but she didn't seem to mind and they didn't block her vision very much. Her hair was a curious amber color, something that set her out from many. She was slimly-framed, but not boyishly-so, her hips curving alluringly so that the crew had something to look at. Besides the translucent top that hung over smallish breasts, tanned loincloth that clothed her hips, and heavy goat-hair boots, the only other object she wore made sure their eyes didn't linger too long: a sword, slightly curved and single-edged in the style of her homeland, strapped in a gilded scabbard over her back.

The Antiphone's all-woman crew had set off some time ago for the fantastic isles, dreaming of a world where queens ruled and imagining they might be better-suited to them than kings. Thaya, from the de