1742: Celebrian – Part TenPosted: April 24, 2017
Author: A now-forgotten servant of Morgoth the Defiler
Topic: Lord of the Rings
Critiqued by KittyNoodles
*** WARNING: The following riff contains no rape for once. Unfortunately, it does involve random bestiality and some of the most atrocious body horror you’ve likely ever seen described on purpose, which may result in extreme dizziness, shortness of breath, nausea, heartburn, indigestion, and a lifelong aversion to ice cream. Yes, ice cream. Those of you who have seen 2 Girls 1 Cup are probably the only people prepared for this. Those of you who have not seen the aforementioned video are first advised not to look it up if you ever wish to eat again; furthermore, such persons will need to trade their complimentary Fic Sickness Bags™ for equally complimentary Fic Sickness Barrels™, both of which have been provided to us courtesy of the PCC. In case of extreme aversion to the impending body horror and character bastardization, please proceed in a shrieking, disorganized mob to your nearest fire escape.
This riff also involves descriptions of severe bodily injury. ***
(*Lyle walks in, glances at the schedule for the day, and nopes her way right back out of the riff chamber*)
[The narration would like to introduce all of you to–]
Kitty: Shut up and set the scene, you rampaging ball of ass.
[The narration smugly lays out the scene: The blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals have been washed and rearranged so that they take up only one portion of the Booth – namely, Kitty’s half. The other half is back to normal, and occupied by Kitty’s guest riffer for this week, who lounges in one of the available chairs looking artfully bored.]
Guest Riffer: Thank you, narration. I think you can go now.
[The narration makes an exit until it is needed again.]
Guest Riffer: Kitty, aren’t you going to introduce me? We can’t very well continue on without giving our Patrons my name and appearance, can we?
Kitty: Patrons, as loathe as I was to do it, I had to break down and invite this asshole over here. Ithalond has barricaded himself in his room, Fury is attempting to calm him down, and we still have no idea where the hell Tarak is.
Guest Riffer: You forgot his title. He is a king, after all.
Kitty: I didn’t vote for him, and I didn’t ask your opinion.
Anyway, Patrons, this is Avis.
Avis: You could stand to be a little nicer. I’m even wearing human clothes to fit in better!
Kitty: I refuse to be grateful for anything you didn’t explicitly agree to when you signed the pre-riff contract.
Avis: You mean the charming pamphlet you handed me that took me twenty minutes to read through? There were a few loopholes in it.
Avis: That would be telling.
Now, if I remember correctly, in the last installment you watched Lady Celebrían struggle with the consequences of her imprisonment by the Orcs, correct? These being a sudden and progressive enlargement of her breasts and a newfound love of ice cream.
Avis: Well, that doesn’t sound too bad. Let’s see what we’ve got today!
Kitty: Your cheerfulness fills me with nausea.
Avis: Take some antacids.
By the third week, she had to ask her handmaids to let out her gowns. She had continued to force herself into her clothes but by now her enlarging boobs threatened to rip even the high quality elvish silk. Though it shamed her even more, she instructed her maids to pad the bosom of her gowns so that her nipples would not embarrass her so much when they stiffened, as they did at the slightest touch or breeze.
Avis: Oh, please. You need help for something this tame?
Kitty: [through her teeth] Maybe read past the first paragraph before you snipe at me, you rampaging wad of dickcheese.
Avis: I’ve read the whole story up to today’s selection. I remain unmoved.
Her enlarging bosom also brought back nightly dreams of her actions in the orc lair. She dreamed of the great cock in her mouth, stretching her pussy, bruising her ass. She tasted in her dreams the orc-king’s seed and felt its gooey passage on her face and body. During the day, it was becoming more difficult to keep her gaze from the warrior’s crotches and from the stallion’s crotches as well.
Avis: See? Obviously she enjoys sex in all its forms. The Orc-king simply made her aware of that fact.
Kitty: You did see the part about the horse crotches, right?
Avis: Of course I did. And she especially noticed it.
[Kitty turns a look on Avis that can best be described as volcanincly murderous.]
By the fourth week, she came to realize that she enjoyed her new breasts. She enjoyed the covert looks from both males and females. She enjoyed the heft to them as she moved and took to giving her step an extra edge so that she could feel them bounce. She liked the feel of one breast rubbing heavily against the other, something her previous apple-sized breasts could never manage. Perhaps most of all, she loved to rub her nipples. Although she had precious few moments of privacy in which to explore the feeling, they seemed to be as sensitive as her clit. Twice she had been able to come while fondling them.
Avis: You see, this is the sort of woman society ought to idealize. Good and minxy, like you all are anyway.
Kitty: I will actually kill you.
[Avis smiles. It only looks like a friendly smile.]
Avis: That’ll do, narration.
[The narration takes note of this.]
But despite the pleasure she found in her new bosom, she could tell that Elrond’s patience was drawing to end. On the third day after the failed spell, she had mumbled something about how the orc shaman had been an ancient, seasoned magician (a lie, of course, she had never seen a shaman). Elrond had replied briskly that 40 years old or 80, an orc shaman knew nothing compared to his ages of study.
Kitty: Wait, do we… do Tolkien’s Orcs actually have canonical lifespans?
Avis: Nothing solid, but considering Morgoth is believed to have turned the Elves he captured at Cuiviénen into the first Orcs, they’re likely either very long-lived or immortal.
Kitty: …Shit, you just said something helpful.
Avis: I am literate, you know.
He had started to say something more but held his tongue. All the same, she knew what he had almost said. Willingly accepted magic was not so easily broken. Thereafter, his previous understanding and patience seemed to fade with each day.
[Kitty angrily opens her mouth to speak]
Avis: Please don’t make us listen to the “willingly accepted while she was drugged and despairing” rant again. I’ve gone over the transcripts; you’ve made everyone read it at least twice already.
Kitty: But the point stands! She was drugged off her rocker when she asked for the stuff, and it didn’t start working with her wanting it to – it started working when she ate some ice cream!
Avis: Drugged, sure – but she did willingly drink the stuff down.
Kitty: Because she was despairing!
Avis: Oh, there’s always an excuse. But she did drink it on her own, and she never quite stopped eyeing everything with a penis after she was rescued, so obviously it was less a case of not wanting the elixir to work and more a case of not having all the necessary ingredients available to her. She was given milk and meat while she was in captivity, remember?
Kitty: She is actively, explicitly horrified and embarrassed by the growth! That should be enough to stop it in its tracks!
Avis: So embarrassed that she keeps eating ice cream.
Kitty: That’s just… I mean it’s a sweet dessert, for God’s sake, and one she isn’t used to!
Avis: But she does recognize the texture as being similar to the Orc King’s cum, and still goes on to wolf the stuff down. Not to mention the wet dreams…
Kitty: She is a rape victim who’s still suffering the aftereffects of her captivity and torment!
Avis: She is a slut who’s trying desperately to convince herself otherwise. Just like most women, honestly.
Kitty: . . .
[. . .]
Kitty: Kyhu Mode.
Avis: What the hell is “Kyhu Mode?”
Kitty: [slowly getting to her feet] Allow us to demonstrate.
[With those words, Kitty throws aside all notion of reality, drawing upon the full measure of her authorial ability to bend the setting utterly to her will. All objects of warmth and comfort vanish – not only the blankets, toys, and pillows, but even the chairs and heating system inside the Booth. Suddenly bereft of his perch, Avis is dropped unceremoniously to the floor and is unable to catch himself in time to keep from hitting the ground.]
Avis: What the hell?!
[Avis scrambles back onto his feet – only to fall back and sprawl across the ground, knocked flat by some unseen blow that drives the wind from him for several moments. Kitty steps closer, her features unnaturally smooth in spite of the fury flashing in her storm-gray eyes.]
Kitty: Kyhu comes from the acronym K.Y.H.U. – which stands for Keep Your Hands Unfolded, the title of what is currently my longest and most successful fanfiction for the last five years running. Kyhu Mode, Avis, is when I stop fucking around and start asserting myself not only as the person responsible for your existence–
[Kitty flicks her hand as though to brush crumbs from a tablecloth, and Avis is sent rolling back several feet until he manages to catch himself by sinking his claws into the floor, ripping several of them loose in the process. He hauls himself up into a rough kneeling position as Kitty continues.]
Kitty: –but also as the person in charge of this moment in this slice of the Library universe.
[She flicks her hand again, this time in an approximate “come hither” gesture, and Avis is slammed face-first onto the floor. A muted crunch sounds as his nose is shattered on impact; before he can recover, the redhead is forced onto his feet again and becomes overwhelmed with a sudden wave of dizziness, rendering him immobile as Kitty stalks forward.]
Kitty: My writings have been called love letters to sheer brutality. My style has been described as a show of savage grace. My plots, my characterizations, my creative choices have been called exercises in readership torment even as those same readers applaud each and every one of them.
[With each declaration, a gash is torn in Avis’ torso, rending flesh and cloth until he appears to have been savaged by a great, clawed beast. He staggers under the onslaught, snarling as pain lashes through him with each new injury.]
Kitty: You are nothing more than a disc-one final boss in a story so old and so powerful that you become a gnat in comparison. You are nothing more than a catalyst in an already-developing relationship. An obstacle. A nuisance! A villain who must be rescued from the damsel he’s trying to ravage!
[The blows that land now break a rib each, sending Avis to his knees – and again he is hauled upright by an invisible set of hands.]
Kitty: And you’re mine. My character. My creation. And I am tired of dealing with you.
[His head clears just as Kitty reaches him; without a word, the author reaches up and slaps Avis across the face. Fueled by fury and helped along a great deal by the twisted reality she has created, Kitty’s blow sends Avis stumbling several feet to the side as he scrambles to keep his footing. Blood runs from the corner of his mouth, and when he at last recovers his balance it becomes apparent that he is no longer able to stand erect.]
Avis: Little bitch, I am a warrior! And you – you’re… you’re nothing more… than a mousy little brat! You shouldn’t–
[Avis’ outcry falls on deaf ears. Kitty approaches him again, and grabbing him by the front of his shirt hauls him down so that they are eye level. He cries out in agony as she slowly begins to smile at him.]
Kitty: I created you and everything you know. I say what is fair.
[With her free hand, Kitty reaches to the side and rips a hole in reality – a portal back into her own canon universe.]
Kitty: You’re going to need a healer when you get to the other side.
[With that, Kitty twists until she stands directly behind him and plants one foot firmly in his backside, sending him flying through the portal. He yelps once – and then the portal swallows itself up and vanishes.
With that, the Booth returns to normal, and Kitty calmly walks over to plop down in the middle of the blankets again.]
Kitty: That was fun. [pauses thoughtfully] Did that qualify as me becoming a Mary Sue, or was that more like God smiting somebody in person?
[The narration is not sure. The narration would like to point out that Kitty promised the narration would not have to go into Kyhu Mode during any riffs.]
Kitty: Yeah, well, Avis promised not to be a rape-apologizing dickhead when he signed the contract.
[The narration concedes the point.]
And how willing was she now, she thought? She could tell herself that she had asked for this during the heat of the magic draught; that she was not truly responsible. That was true enough. But now that she enjoyed the feel of her massive breasts, how unwilling could she pretend to be? She still checked the size of her breasts with trepidation every day but once the check was done, she also caressed those same breasts and teased those growing nipples.
[The narration does think Avis had a point.]
Kitty: You think I can’t write a body for you just so I can Kyhu you, too?
[The narration is shutting up now.]
One more thought came to her, one more confirmation of her depravity. It concerned the ice cream. It was a simple enough pleasure enjoyed by the entire household. But it came to her that the orcs had fed her milk when they were growing her breasts. And her breasts had not started growing again until ice cream came to Rivendell. It must have been the cream that had restarted the process.
Kitty: So… does Daeum want us to believe that Elves don’t usually drink milk? Or eat butter or cheese? Or bake anything? Or make sauces involving dairy products? Like, they don’t do any of that at all? Or is it that they don’t drink or eat products made specifically with cow milk? Because unless they specifically don’t use cow milk, and the orc magic specifically requires cow milk to reactivate, Daeum is a fucking idiot. If milk and ice cream trigger it, cheese should, too. Or butter. For god’s sake, eating pastries could do it, depending on how they’re made.
In fact, eating lembas bread could trigger the orc magic. You know, elvish waybread? Used as rations for long journeys? I haven’t found one single recipe (other than those geared towards vegans) that does not contain butter as an ingredient.
And since Daeum’s own story does not make too much of a big deal about Celebrían being fed meat and hasn’t said that Elves do not eat meat, we’re left to fill the gap he’s left with canon clues. And since canonically there is a Vala (basicaly a Middle-earth archangel) who rules hunting and wild nature, the Elves in this story probably aren’t vegan, which means THE ELVES IN THIS STORY PROBABLY USE MILK A LOT AND DAEUM IS DEFINITELY STILL AN INCREDIBLY STUPID GERM.
When the link at first occurred to her, she had stopped eating ice cream immediately.
Kitty: And cheese and butter and tea with milk and I could go on but we’re running out of space.
And her breasts had ceased growing, or at least slowed greatly. It was hard to tell. But the tickle of cream on her tongue and the pleasure of a weighty bosom brought her back to the ice cream from time to time. The growth of her breasts slowed but it did not cease.
Kitty: Really? The texture of the ice cream and the back problems her boobs are causing her are what make it hard to stop eating ice cream? Not, I don’t know… the sweetness? The novelty of that new cookie crumble variety Lindir just came up with? The coolness of it on a hot day?
I don’t wanna help Daeum be better at this, but I mean… there are more believable ways to keep her falling off the ice cream wagon.
[The narration thinks it may be a bad sign that Kitty is attempting to make this story make sense.]
Kitty: Very good point, narration. Until next time, Patrons!