By FoxFaceStories

Original Story Here

Bridget notices how much her former protege Lancel admires her new body, and she finds herself curious about him herself. Lancel ends up testing the advice and tips his mentor gave him on how to properly please a woman…just neither of them expected she would be the woman he’d use it on. And maybe she found a proper father figure for her child.

Epilogue: Quest Expired

The adventuring party stayed the night, all courtesy of the very busty Bridget, the red-haired, freckle-filled beauty of a tavern wench. Helga the grey-skinned half-orc slept soundly in her usual way, snoring loudly and slowly sliding off of the bed and onto the floor. Pyra the golden-skinned elven druid went into her elven trance, the equivalent of a human sleep, and became one with the cosmos. But their youngest member Lancel, the young man with blonde hair and a lithe-but-muscled figure, he was restless even as night drew on, his thoughts occupied by that tavern maid in a way that no woman had ever managed to do so, and this was no small feat, for he was merely twenty years old and therefore was the type of young red-blooded male to often think about women, especially on cold nights beneath the stars, far from the kind of women he fancied.

The reason for this fixation was a rather surprising one. You see, Lancel had, in fact, trained up to be an adventurer beneath Bridget, though not in the form she currently possessed. Just a year ago the curvaceous redhead had been a powerful melee mage and man named Bastian, the leader of the Invincible Four, their party. But after defeating Gretchen the Wicked, a foul hag, Bastian had been cursed, his body turned into that of a buxom redhead with no connection to magic and no figure for fighting. In the end, the new Invincible Three had agreed with her that she would stay back while they searched the world for a cure. But when they returned to Westriver for an ale and to track Bastian down and hopefully turn him back, they found that a very popular tavern maid, one with a reputation for dancing jigs and flirting with the menfolk, was the former man they were looking for! What’s more, she hadn’t just embraced her new life as a deeply popular tavern wench, but her popularity had gotten her with child just a few months into her new life, and now she had a beautiful little baby girl named Esmerelda. After so long fighting and taking life, the former man had come to love her new one, and after falling pregnant had gone on to embrace it fully, though given her frequent beddings with customers, she had no idea who the father was and had no desire to seek him out regardless.

The busty Bridget congratulated her former pupil Lancel on becoming a true hero, no longer a trainee but someone worthy of great heroism. The maid had given her apologies to Pyra the elf, with whom the pair had shared numerous dalliances across their adventuring career, but now could no longer - Bridget only found men attractive thanks to the hag’s curse, alas. And she was happy to name Helga as her successor, the new leader of the Invincible Three. But for old times’ sake she insisted the three stay at the tavern for free, just to spend a little more time with her friends and former apprentice, so they could know this new version of her better; the flirtatious and free tavern maid who was also a new mother.

That should have been where the story ended. It was a happy ending, after all, was it not? The kind of ending that wraps things all up in a neat bow while leaving plenty of room for more adventure. At least, that’s what Lancel told himself as he shifted and stirred in his quarters above the large Westriver tavern. He was happy for his former mentor, he truly was. And Esmerelda truly was a gorgeous little babe. The look on Bridget’s face as she nursed her child had made her appear as if all was right in the world.

“So why can’t I get her out of my head?” he grunted as he turned in bed and attacked the pillow to make it more comfortable. “What in the Nine Hells is wrong with me?”

The answer was obvious, of course. The man was smitten. Completely so. It was insane, of course. Enough to make one try to track down a psionic wizard and ask for a gentle restructuring of the frontal lobe processes, and yet he felt it all the same. Bastian had been in his mid-thirties, but the transformation had left Bridget in her mid-twenties at most. Still a little older than Lancel, of course, and certainly much, much more experienced (Lancel had only lain with a woman a few times, and wasn’t entirely sure he was very good at the choreography), but the sparkle in her bright emerald eyes was too enticing to resist, and the way she moved with such confidence in her new form, her low-cut tavern maid blouse revealing the sloping curves of her large breasts, her fertile hips rocking from side to side as she carried the ales . . .

“By the Gods,” Lancel declared, getting out of bed. “I need a drink.”

He gulped down half the pitcher of water by his bedside, then washed his face with some of the remainder.

“She’s your mentor, Lancel,” the young man told himself. He wove an incantation to bring up a mirror, and quickly frowned at himself. “Yes, I see what you’re thinking, me. She’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, with tits like overripe dragonmelon fruit and hips that were sculpted by the Gods, but she’s . . . she’s the man who trained you in the art of the sword and spell! She was in a relationship, of sorts, with Pyra. Off and on again, but . . . Gods, what is wrong with you? She even teased you when you came here because you were damn foolish enough to peek down and observe that damn bountiful bosom. Huh . . . that means I’m taller than her now.”

He dismissed the spell and rested back in bed. If only he knew how to cast a sleeping incantation on himself instead of an enemy, but alas. He closed his eyes and shifted about, only to open them again.

“And she’s a mother, besides! She has that little girl Esmerelda. You can’t go lusting after unwed mothers, Lancel. It’s not . . . proper. Or something.”

Yet the image of the little babe in his mind made him smile. She truly was a little treasure. Lancel had never really thought about fatherhood - hard to be a father when you’re an adventurer - but upon seeing Bridget holding and then breastfeeding her perfect angel, it was hard not to imagine what it would be like to have a child of his own. Or to . . . help take care of someone else’s?

“Rubbish,” he said aloud. “Stupid. Now you’re just being silly, Lancel.”

He wove some light magic above his head to make it appear like stars, which he was used to sleeping under, but it did no good. He could almost feel the vibrations of Helga’s snoring just one room over.

“That’s it, I need some night air,” he declared. He got out of bed, still in his sleeping clothes, and made his way out of the room with just a little ball of magical light hovering above his hand to let him see. He made his way downstairs, moving as silently as he could until he was outside, beneath the brilliant night sky. The moon was out in force tonight, but the stars still managed to shine, and together there was more than enough light to see. The sight calmed the young man a little, and he took in the fresh air as he looked out into the fields and plains beyond the small town of Westriver, and to the mountains beyond. 

“Quite a sight, isn’t it, kid?”

Lancel nearly jumped, but he managed to turn instead to face the woman who had spoken. To his surprise, it was Bridget. The magical light hovering in his hand revealed her lovely red hair, though it was a little messy from what appeared to be as equally poor sleep as he had experienced.

“Bridget? What are you doing out here? Oh, um, you’re in your night shift . . . should I look away?”

The woman simply chuckled and crossed her arms beneath her bountiful bosom. She was indeed just wearing a white night shift, and while it hung loosely on her figure, her prominent bustline was displayed thanks to the top buttons being left rather undone, and the hem was quite short for the warm weather, leaving her fine legs entirely naked. Lancel felt as if he was interrupting something, but she just grinned.

“Lancel, folks see me dancing jigs and serving ale with more buttons in my blouse undone than this, and I’m nursing most of the rest of the time anyway. I’m just out here to get some fresh air.”

Lancel let his little light hover in the air just above them so they could see each other better. He was trying not to see her too much, however. And especially trying not to fantasise.

“Bad sleep?” he ventured awkwardly.

Another guffaw. “Oh no, the sleep is wonderful. It’s the part where I’m not sleeping that’s the bad part. I tell ya, kid. One thing about getting turned into a woman and getting your fool self knocked up that you don’t expect is all the endless nursing you have to do in the middle of the night. When little Esme isn’t fussing around for another drink from my nipple, these damn big tits of mine are getting too full for comfort anyway. I was actually out here ready to relieve myself, would you believe it?”

“Oh . . . is there a privy here?”

She smirked in that knowing way she often did back when she was Bastian, only it was a hell of a lot more attractive now. “Not that kind of relief, Lancel,” she said, and with that she gestured to her chest, which was practically straining the material of her shift. Lancel finally put two and two together and immediately blushed.

“Oh. Oh! S-sorry. I’ll get out of your lovely hair - I mean hair!”

He was about to go, but she reached out and grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. She was surprisingly strong despite her being much more lithe these days.

“No, no, you’re not getting away that easily, my former apprentice. What brings you out here? I thought if anyone was going to be having bad sleep it might be Pyra. She and I, well, we had a thing on and off, as you might be aware. Maybe Helga would be sleeping fitfully, what with her and I being old war buddies and the like; maybe she’s disappointed I want to stay like this. But you? You’re a bonafide member of the Invincible Three now, kid! You’re a hero, and from what I’ve heard, you’ve truly become worthy of everything I was teaching you to be. You should be proud of yourself!”

“I am,” Lancel said, puffing himself up a little before the woman. Her emerald eyes roamed over him a little, and she smiled a little for reasons he was not sure of. “And I’m very grateful for all you taught me, Bastian. Bridget, I mean.”

“Is the bed not comfortable? I can get you a better one. Let no one think that Bridget isn’t the best fiery-haired maiden in Westriver, I tell you!”

“No, no, it’s not that. I was just . . . lost in thought. Thinking.”

The woman continued to smirk, but turned to face out onto the horizon alongside him. He was distinctly aware of her bare arm brushing up against his, and the fact that he too was rather underdressed. He kept his gaze very level, despite the fact that a rather magnificent view of a rather different pair of hillsides was just a little down and to his right.

“Do you ever miss it?” he finally asked.

“The adventuring?” Bridget responded. “The heroics? The fights and the glory? Of course I miss it, kid. But at the same time, I don’t really miss the cold damp, y’know? And the aches and pains of fighting. And the fact that we never really seemed to get as much treasure as we wanted. I mean, what was all the treasure for? Presumably so I could find a place to settle down, start a family, and feel secure. And well, look at me now!”

Lancel took this as permission to do so, and his eyes wandered south despite orders from his brain to not do that very thing. The woman placed her hands on her hips.

“Is that enough looking for you?” she snarked, at which point Lancel blushed and looked away.

“S-sorry.”

“It’s all good, Lancel. Honestly, if you’d been turned into a buxom wench like I am, I wouldn’t blame me for looking either. The Gods know I wouldn’t be able to help myself. But then, not being able to help myself is what got me my little Esme, didn’t it?”

Lancel smiled and looked at her pretty features. “She’s beautiful,” he said. “She’s perfect.”

“Not so perfect at midnight, I can tell you. She’s sleeping soundly now, at least, unlike her mother. Gods, to think I’m a mother now. Still hits me.”

“Would you change back? Ever?”

She considered this, and then finally: “Nah. I won’t say it’s not a little embarrassing to admit, but I like being Bridget the red-haired maiden of Westriver tavern. Well, not exactly a maiden. I won’t lie, Lancel, this body has a fire of its own. It’s how I got Esme, like I said.”

“You seem really taken with motherhood.”

She puffed up her considerable chest proudly. “I am, aren’t I? You ever think you’ll have kids one day, Lancel?”

The man hesitated, then decided on the truth. “To be honest, Bridget, I never even thought about it until I saw Esme in your arms.”

She furrowed her brow and turned to face him, clearly intrigued. “Yeah?”

Lancel scratched the back of his head. “Well, it’s just . . . it felt like it ignited something in me. I looked at her and all night I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to raise a child. It wouldn’t . . . I know this sounds crazy, but it wouldn’t even have to be my child, in blood, I mean. Just to be there, and be a father to it. I don’t know, it’s what I thought when I looked at her.”

Bridget, who had always been quite adept at noticing the hidden details and the things left unsaid, moved her hands back to her hips and thrust out her chest a little. She was well aware of the image she was presenting, and she smiled softly as she looked Lancel up and down.

“And what do you think when you look at me?” she asked coyly.

“Oh, um . . . you’re my mentor, of course. The one who trained me, helped me become a hero, and-”

“Lancel, be honest here. You’re under the Lunar Goddess right now.”

The young man swallowed, gathered his confidence, and stood a little taller. “I haven’t been able to sleep because I can’t stop thinking about you, Bridget.”

She was a little taken aback by this. “Oh?”

“The moment I saw you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, in fact. When you were dancing and serving, and when you were showing us little Esme . . . I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen or would ever see in my life. I know it’s wrong, and I apologise. You’re my mentor. The man who trained me. But when I look at you now I can’t help but feel such . . . desire, like I’ve never before felt.”

He looked over her figure, taking in all the curves and imagining the hidden ones. His arousal was growing stronger, but so was his nervousness. Still, he stood by his statement - Bridget had taught him to speak plainly, so he was doing just that.

“Well, ain’t that something?” Bridget said in a voice that was nearly a whisper. “Would it help if I told you how I see you, kid?”

“Y-yes? Yes. If only to end this torment, please.”

She looked him up and down again, observing the muscles that had sprung up over the past year, the confidence that had grown, even if it was waning a little before a beautiful woman like her. She saw the way he had become more rugged, and how he wove the magic light and adopted a warrior’s stance with ease.

“I see a handsome young fella, if we’re telling truths beneath the Lunar Goddess. A strapping man who was just a lad a year ago, and now seems so much more self-possessed. And you’re pretty damn easy on the eyes, blondie.”

“I am?”

“Oh yeah. Much more so than half the lovers I’ve taken, to be honest.”

“D-do you take a lot?”

At this, she smirked. “A lot less now. I’ve had my fun, gotten my Esme. Was actually hoping to find that special someone, you know? Someone brave and strong, and kind and gentle. The kind of man who would stick around, and maybe also remember a few things about how to treat a woman.”

It dawned on Lancel that Bridget was actually checking him out. She had placed a hand just above her left breast, tracing it down in a gesture that was quite plausibly deniable, but seemed to be a deliberate way to show off her figure.

“You like the way I look then?” she asked.

He smiled. “It’s . . . a very big improvement.”

“In two particular places, I’ll bet. Ha!”

He blushed, then recovered. “You look like a goddess, actually. All of you.”

This time, she blushed. He’d never managed to make his mentor blush. She bit her lower lip, and the image agonised him with how attractive it was. 

“Enough talk,” she said. “It’s late, and we’re being foolish.”

Lancel knew she was right. “Of course. I’m sorry, I-”

“Take my hand, kid. No . . . take my hand, Lancel.”

She extended it, and while he was a little confused, he indeed placed his hand in hers, feeling her soft skin. She pulled him along, but not towards the tavern so he could return to bed and she to Esme’s side. Instead, she took him around to an empty stable.

“Freshly cleaned and with new hay and all,” she declared. “Comfortable hay.”

She stood in the empty stable, one hand on her cocked hip and with her eyebrow arched expectantly, the soft glow of the hovering magical light illuminating her lovely figure. Lancel realised the implication after a moment’s delay. A thousand thoughts blurred through his mind, each of them involving some meek withdrawal, some questioning clarification, some uncertainty. But Bridget had taught her to be better. To be bold.

So the man strode forth and kissed her. She returned the kiss, her lips so soft upon his, and the two began to feel one another. He moved his lips to her neck, and she in turn began to run her hands across his form.

“Mhmm, you really have gained muscle,” she murmured. “I like it.”

“And you’ve gained . . . a lot else.”

“Would you like to see?” she said, grinning. She lifted her arms and he helped remove her shift. She was naked beneath it, and her breasts flopped about as they settled, full and ripe and inviting, her pink nipples impressively large thanks to all the mother’s milk she had been providing. She stood there, breathing heavily, her tits rising and falling as if they were two large boats upon the ocean waves. Lancel had underestimated their size, and he’d already thought they were quite big.

“Well?” she said, gesturing to her body. “What do you think?”

Lancel had no words to give, so he gave none. Instead he closed the distance between them again and began to squeeze and cup her massive chest, letting his fingers sink into the flesh and stroking her sensitive skin. She gasped, and again when he reached around to grope her magnificent ass, which was no doubt even larger now with her post-pregnancy body. She in turn helped him remove his shirt and sleeping shorts, leaving him too naked. His cock was fully erect and throbbing, his balls almost churning with seed. The woman grinned as she took in the sight of him.

“Well, looks like you were always big in one place,” she said teasingly.

“You think?”

She licked her lips. “Oh yeah. Let’s see if you remember all those tips I gave you two years ago about pleasing a woman, Lancel, because this woman wants to be pleased.”

They came together again, kissing and caressing and feeling every inch of one another. He kissed and sucked upon her breasts, flicking his tongue across her nipples in a way that made her gasp.

“I believe you taught me this?” he said before repeating the action.

Bridget squeezed her eyes shut and gasped, trying to keep herself from being too noisy. “Y-es! Ohhh, and you’re n-not half-bad at it! Mhm!”

She reached down and felt his balls, sliding her hand up over them before settling around his cock. She stroked it, rubbing the shaft before gripping it softly and moving her hand up and down, up and down. It made Lancel groan, but she placed a finger on his lips.

“Shhh, not too loud. Let’s roll in the hay and see if you know the next steps.”

Lancel continued to be bold. He lowered the gorgeous single mother back onto the hay, taking just a second to admire her perfect curves and large breasts, which were now sloping against her upper arms. And then he was upon her, kissing the soft sides of her neck and lowering his fingers down to tease at her womanly folds.

“Ohhhh, you r-remembered my advice! Always get a w-woman wet before - mhmm!”

He rubbed her sensitive flower, and it grew more damp by the moment, her juices starting to trickle against her thighs. At the same time he sucked upon her left breast, only to withdraw suddenly as an unexpectedly sweet taste entered his mouth.

“G-Gods,” she cried. “Why did you stop?”

“I think - I think I just drank your milk.”

But she just grinned. “Don’t worry, there’s more than enough to spare for Esme. I’m quite a producer. Go on, drink up. I’m far too full and it feels divine, Lancel. You’ve no idea how divine.”

Well, that was permission enough. Lancel continued his ministrations between her thighs, and then began to drink from her, shifting from left breast to right. Her milk was sweet, so very sweet, and there was so much of it. She moaned as he nursed from her, emptying her engorged reserves and causing pulses of pleasure to course through her body. But it also made him so aroused that he needed to act. He withdrew his hand and lowered himself. Bridget took his manhood and guided it into her wet passage, and the two moaned pleasurably as he entered her fully.

“Ahh - y-yes! Mmm! Don’t s-stop!”

He had no intention of doing so. He kissed her on the lips before beginning his thrusts. “You’re s-so perfect, Bridget.”

“You’re not - ahh! - so bad yourself, L-Lancel! Who would have thought you’d become s-such a big man! Ohh! And in more ways than one! Mhmm!”

They were fucking on the hay, her legs wrapped around his waist as he built up momentum. The woman gasped and squeaked, but managed to avoid making too loud a sound as he continued to thrust into her again and again. It was heaven, and the feeling of her full breasts sliding against his bare chest was magnificent, and clearly turned her on all the more as well.

“I’m c-close, L-Lancel! I’m close! I’m - ohhh! MHMM!!”

She bit her lip, whimpering as the first of several orgasms hit her. Lancel came mere moments later, having barely held on this long. More seed than he had ever produced in his life shot from his manhood and entered deep inside of her, and she received every drop willingly, a wide smile spreading across her face as her voluptuous body shuddered.

It was entire minutes later before either of them spoke, entwined as they were in the hay, which was starting to scratch.

“This isn’t very comfortable, is it?” Bridget noted.

Lancel laughed and caught himself before he woke someone over in the tavern. “No, it’s not, is it?”

She traced her fingers over his muscles, just as he rested a hand over her lovely left flank. “When you said you felt a desire to be a father when you saw Esme . . . did you mean a father to Esme?”

Lancel paused. “She’s the most perfect little thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Would you like it to be a yes?”

She smirked. “I’m just saying, hay isn’t very comfortable, but my bed . . . my bed is rather large, Lancel. There’s a lot of fun to be had in it. Passion. Joy. But there’s also a baby right beside it who feeds five times a night when I’m unlucky. But if you’re like me, and you’ve decided that you’d like to settle down for a stretch, maybe even for good, well . . . the bed is warm, and like I said before, I’ve been looking for that special someone who can appreciate me, and be a father to Esme as well.”

Lancel should have been nervous. Anxious. Cautious. But instead, he shifted so that he was on top of the naked beauty, her freckles lovely beneath the magical light, and he kissed her on the lips.

“Let’s go to bed,” he told her. “Together.”

They did so, and while it wasn’t a sound sleep (two more wakings from Esme), Bridget was astonished to find that Lancel was already working to change her little girl and rock her to sleep to let her have some more sleep. She smiled tenderly throughout the night, observing Lancel, and realising that this man who had once been just a kid she’d trained, might in fact be more than just a father to her child and a lover in bed, but someone she could come to love. Actually love.

It was a good thing, too. After all, when the Invincible Pair had departed, Lancel stayed behind to help manage the tavern with her, and he and Bridget managed to find plenty of time for their own private ‘jigs’ in the bedroom. The world’s most desirable tavern wench was unexpectedly growing with his child just three months later. Suffice it to say for the new couple, that was another adventure of its own.

The End