Tales of Seraph - A Change of Fate (Futa/F, Futa/Futa)

Story by Nadiir

Hi guys! I’m back with a new story set in the land of Seraph!

Thanks to everyone who gave feedback on my last story, I’m trying to incorporate a lot of the suggestions into this new one. I’m also structuring it a bit differently as well. Just a quick note, my writing time has unfortunately been slashed a bit lately due to work, and I’m just posting these chapters as they’re completed, so expect some time between updates.

Again, feedback is greatly appreciated, and I’ve got thick skin, so hit me with it :) In the meantime, enjoy!

The dark of night, deep in the wilderness. There is little moonlight tonight, so all is lit only by the silver touch of the stars. Swathed in shadows, a dirt road stretches into the gloom, separating dense forest on one side and rolling fields on the other. A roadside inn casts a lonely pool of golden light that is quickly lost to the dark, a solitary island of civilisation in the wild. Song and laughter is heard from inside, as is the crackle of a roaring fire. Separated from the inn is a stable, dark and quiet, and further on is a simple clearing for coaches waiting out the night.

A solitary silhouette leans against a pile of timber, huddled against the nightly chill. A tiny pool of orange light flares occasionally as the figure draws on a clay pipe. If one were to listen carefully enough, they might even be able to make out the occasional muttered curse and grumble. A second shadow emerges from the gloom to approach the smoking figure. It was small and hunched, unsure and hesitant. With what appears to be much trepidation, it approaches the smoking sentinel.

“E-excuse me. When does the next coach go?”

The voice is feminine, small and high pitched, obviously young. The guard, not expecting this, fumbles with its pipe.

“Goddesses’ tits! Don’t sneak up on a body like that. Next coach to leave heads off at dawn, bound for Serrice.”

The sentinel’s voice is also female, but about as different from the first as it could get, low and full, with a husky edge. The smaller figure shook her head vigorously.

“N-no. Going away from Serrice.”

“Hmm, there’s a coach leaving at seven bells going to Locronan.”

There was a short pause before the younger voice replied.

“Anything farther?”

“What’s this all about? You on the run or something?”

“Please!”

“Oh, keep your tits on. It’s not like I care one way or another. Umm . . . off the top of my head there’s one heading to the town of Auvern at nine bells. That’s pretty much on the edge of the wilds. Far enough for you, sweetheart?”

“I- I guess. Can I get on it?”

“Why not? Fare is twenty Marks.”

There was silence in the gloom.

“Okay, fine, it’s actually fifteen. Freezing my ass off here, figured I could get something to make it worth my while.”

Still silence.

“Look, I can go to twelve, but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

Nothing.

“You don’t actually have any money, do you sugar?”

“Please!” wailed the young voice. “I have some, I’ll give you everything I have!”

“How much is that?”

There was a pause before the small voice replied “T-two marks . . .”

The taller figure let out a sigh. “Oh damn, sweetheart, you’re in a world of trouble, aren’t you? Look, keep your money, you’ve got enough problems as it is. I can get you on the coach, but if you can’t pay, maybe you can make it worth my while, eh?”

“W- what do you mean?”

“Well, the coachman and I can forget how many paying passengers we have. Happens all the time, and the horses don’t care none how many they haul. It is mighty cold out here, and here I am all on my lonesome. Maybe I have some warm company tonight, and you go on your merry way.”

There was movement in the dark as the shadows merged.

“What are you doing?!”

“Shhh, sugar. It’s alright. I’ll be gentle . . . Mmm, you are very well put together, aren’t you? So soft . . . Oh my!”

The night was dark and cold, lit only by the spilled light of the inn. The chatter and laughter drowned out all around it, but if one were to go outside and listen carefully, one might have been able to make out the slapping of moist flesh, and the moans and groans of female pleasure.

The next morning, bright and clear, a small, robed figure joined the line to enter the stagecoach, while the guard, tired and walking in a very bow-legged manner, pushed open the door to her bunk to share the story of her night with her colleagues.

* * *

The sun crept up silently over the horizon, edging up over the sky, inch by inch, with deceptive slowness. Following courses laid out countless generations ago by mysterious hands, light blazed down across the land of Seraph. Slowly dawn came to the entire nation, fields, forests and towns alike colouring in anticipation of the day to come. Across the

... more on the forums ...