??? of Sunsfall, 3418, Somewhere in North Yaavy probably, Markus' Journal
I probably shouldn't have to inform the reader about alcohol. It's the source of more mischief and hardship than virtually any other facet of civilized society, and yet for some Goddessforsaken reason we keep it around.
Not many people know this, but there is no single accepted test or achievement for becoming a certified alchemist. At least in Yarrowsi. It might be different in other queendoms. I'm rambling as I write and the astute reader might have clued into just why that is from the subject matter. But I'll spell it out: My teacher made sure I knew how to brew a strong pint before I was allowed to call myself an alchemist. Strong enough to put a dark elf like herself on her gloriously shapely ass.
No don't write that. Erase it. Stupid enchantment. This is why I don't usually use these things. Oh whatever, I'll erase it myself later when I can trust my hands not to be so clumsy.
I'm rambling. And drunk. I'm rambling because I'm drunk. And I have no idea what time it is. Had a party last night, I think. Celebrating another bunch of bandits dead and eaten, No stop, erase that last part. Damn it. They had dozens of barrels full of cheap wine, but I know how to turn cheap wine into good, strong wine. For a dark elf's reckoning anyway, might be weak for a high elf.
Anyway, I woke up today in a place that was distinctly not my bed. Wasn't a bed at all. Find yourself wedged betwixt a high elf's bosom as often as I do, and you learn to recognize the signs that that's where you are. If not from the two massive clues on either side of you, the heartbeat tends to be what lets you know right quick. I mean, you can sort of feel a high elf's heartbeat from anywhere on them, just like any folk. But in their breasts its like a great drum, with a very soothing and hypnotic quality to the sound of her very life and soul roaring around you like that. Especially because you can't hear anything else. Pretty sure I fell asleep again when I first heard it this morning. Or noon, whichever.
Hard to tell which one stole me out of bed though, assuming I even made it there. There's not much light down here to judge the skin color by. I misjudged which way was up and ended up squirming down instead. Luckily she was wearing some padded breast wraps on the underside so I didn't fall down into her- Well it would have been quite the talk I'm sure. Teased into oblivion.
Physical descriptions are important. I guess I could sort of describe my current predicament as a tent. Loosely. A triangular prism that extends from my companion’s midsection and curves up and around her generous bust to presumably meet the open air outside. I've got just enough space to get to my hands and knees before brushing up against her looming self, but it should be enough to climb out of here once I feel steady. I could probably squirm back into her tits directly as well, but that had the chance of my getting very turned around again.
The fabric I knelt on as I dictate these words on is damp and smells heavily of elf sweat. More pleasant than it sounds, everything to do with elves smells like a blooming meadow at the height of Sunsrise on their worst days. I asked about it before, years back; apparently it's from eating flowers. Hopefully that adequately explains it to you, reader, because it didn't make any sense to me as I pretty sure not even the magical parts of alchemy that humans can't directly detect or interact with are supposed to work like that. Speaking of alchemy.
End Note.
I rubbed at my eyes and took a sip of my water as I felt the sobering potion take effect. Doing it this way was significantly nastier to experience than dealing with a hangover naturally, but it'd steady my hands and mind faster and I couldn't afford to waste any more time when I had to get my work done after sleeping in. Yesterday I barely managed to get half a batch of poison cure potions for the team.
Poison cures were one of those all-important brews in my job requirements. Elves, for all their impressive senses, didn't always acknowledge that something was wrong inside their own bodies. They tended to simply assume that they could whether any minor ailment, which is the exact opposite attitude that you want to have when you've been exposed to the devious toxins cooked up by a dwarf through a small cut. Luckily the combat side of the team were all veterans of the 7th and most recent great war with the dwarven scourge, so I didn't have to try and somehow bully them into dosing themselves preemptively after encountering dwarf-made weapons. Though I'm sure they'd enjoy my trying to.
In any case, this bosom wasn't going to climb itself. And if she hadn't seen fit to release me when I first woke up then I surely wouldn't get any help in the matter, she was likely enjoying this harmless plight of mine. My options were climb and get to work or stay here and waste time. So I set the journal to banish itself back to my room in Aure's backpack and got to work crawling to the front of my containment.
Would have been nice if I had some charm to banish myself like that, but alas. Not only was creating enchantments that could be used by humans a daunting undertaking, apparently banishing and summoning folk is very tricky to do even for professional wizards like Aure, not without killing the folk you're looking to banish anyway. Not even most queens had access to such enchantments, the tyranny of having to walk ruled supreme over us all.
The first stretch was easy, the fattened breasts above me bulged downward from a combination of gravity and the pressure of the bindings above, but it didn't block my progress at all. I was subjected to a bit of jiggling when my head strayed too far up and tickled the elf with my hair, but the force of the orbs coming down wasn't enough to do more than pin me to the padded floor a few times. No, the hard part was when the floor started curving upward and I found myself standing at an awkward angle, bracing myself against her sweaty mounds for balance that I not slip and tumble back down. How in the hell was I supposed to do this?
Do I turn around to grasp the slicked fibers of the cloth? Or do I climb as I am, back to the moist wraps and squeeze bits of flesh to form hand and footholds as I need them? The first option risks pushing myself back in between my teammate's breasts, but this time with even less leverage than I started with, while the second opens myself up to even more teasing than my current state already merits. On the other hand, getting stuck again was likely to result in even more teasing than simply climbing her, so perhaps my dignity was going to take a big hit regardless.
In the end, I went with my gut, and my gut said that getting teased for something that I meant to do was better than getting teased for an accident. Thus I found myself pressing my back to the wall, inching myself up by sinking one palm into the heavenly squishiness at a time. I lost my grip a few times when she clearly started to giggle over something, possibly my movements, possibly an unrelated joke, it didn't particularly matter. Once upon a time, I'd have tried to pretend I wasn't enjoying this whole situation, but well, being around elves really changes you. They go out of their way to engineer situations just like this one and can tell when a human is lying about what we feel about it. A year ago, I thought it was all in good fun and didn't worry so much over it.
A year ago, I thought my high elf companions didn't have a mean bone in their bodies and especially couldn't find it in themselves to intentionally harm a human. Now here I am, grappling with a pair of fatty catacombs for all those dozens of souls that whoever this is swallowed without a second thought. And while the idea of it all greatly disturbs me, I am still also very aroused. My own remains could one day find their way here and I still can't help but luxuriate in the wonderful feeling of her flesh spilling out between my fingers.
I should stop thinking about my situation in such terms. There wasn't much to do but climb and think, but thinking about my death was just going to demoralize me until I couldn't climb. Instead, I focused on what information I could gather to try and guess at whose chest this was. A useless exercise ordinarily, but it kept my mind off of things.
Well the biggest clue was that the bindings behind me were rigid against the armor she wore, which ruled out Elya and Aure as the two of them wore flexible and 'lightweight' mammoth leather lamellar. I'd previously flexed the material myself when Elya got refitted a year or so ago, I couldn't lift it by myself but it does indeed bend a bit when I'm putting all my body's force into the action, as I would be now. So these breasts were on the chest of one of the two swordselves on the party, either Teale or Mere. Of the two, I'd say that Mere was the most likely. At least unless Teale was being goaded by her sister to try this.
Once the slope of the breasts had angled low enough that I could lie down and rest, I did so. It was a bad idea because I risked slipping down and getting stuck again but well, my plan failed to account for the fact that I'm just an alchemist. I don't run around and fight monsters all day, I crouch around rare plants and mash them up to bring out the natural magical properties of one another. I didn't even walk around our campsites most of the time, that took too long and my companions would rather grab and carry me than wait for me to move at my own pace. So I rested for a few minutes at least, I didn't sleep though, and instead watched the the glimmer of light and shadows playing across the elf's translucent red blouse some distance in front of me, and over the small circle of daylit skin at the end of the tunnel.
Last I recalled, we were somewhat close to the 'Earth Mother'- the enormous mountain that could be seen from everywhere else on the continent, and if rumors are to be believed, from the coast of the orcish continent as well. So naturally the shadows were probably cast from some of the also enormous Yggdrasil trees that grew there natively. I didn't know much about traditional elven religion, having grown up in a dark elf queendom that had outlawed any sort of proselytism, but my understanding was that these trees were considered sacred in some way. Apparently the high elves of the second empire had planted a scion of them in every major city, and that since then they'd spread out and become a great forest that dwarfed everything and everyone but the mountain itself.
None of that was terribly important to my predicament, which was rather the point. Focusing on the little history that I knew of the region helped me get my arousal under control, so I could maintain some level of composure when I confronted my captor about her agreeable yet not agreed upon choice of accommodations.
Unless I had agreed to it. I was probably quite drunk and suggestible if I couldn't remember much further than making the wine better. Hmm. Well it's still rude to take advantage of a drunkard's impaired judgment like that, so I still had some cause even if that were the case.
Once I felt ready to continue, I didn't bother to sit up or anything, and just crawled as I was. This leg of my escape wasn't quite as enjoyable as I was mostly focused on keeping balanced on my elbows and knees than really digging in to propel myself upward, but I knew from prior experience that I'd fall through and get stuck if I didn't spread my weight out, at least while I was in the middle. I could have negated the problem if I crawled atop one breast or another, but that would just recreate the problem of not having any way of knowing if I was going in the right way until I wasn't. In her cleavage I could clearly see my goal.
At last I made it to the edge of her armor and was utterly blinded when Mere pulled her neckline low enough to peek down at me. “Good morning Markus! Did you have a nice sleep?”
“Unfortunately yes, I enjoyed it so much that I slept too much and I'm not behind schedule.” Mere frowned at this remark but I didn't get a chance to understand the mistake I'd made until it was too late.
“Excuse me? Are you calling my hospitality 'unfortunate'? That's not a very nice way to speak to your friends Markus.” That's when it occurred to me that I should have spent more time rehearsing this conversation instead of agonizing over matters I couldn't change. Now instead of communicating my humble desire to continue doing my job, I've accidentally offended my teammate who thought she was doing me a favor. I doubted I could make her angry enough to actually hurt me, but there was very little stopping a high elf from utterly embarrassing and belittling you if she felt justified in it.
“Mere, I was perfectly fine in my own bed- you didn't have to-”
“Are you calling my tits anything less than perfect?” Oh. Oh no, I've fallen into one of those word traps that human women are so fond of. Elves are so physical with their own bullying that I never considered this outcome.
"No! No of course no-"
"Then you won't mind getting a few more hours of shut-eye between them, aye?" I didn't get a chance to stumble through my probably incorrect answer before she smiled brightly and pulled her breasts apart with two fingers on either side of me and a giggle, causing me to lose my grip on their sweaty surface and slip down several feet before they came back together to pin me in place. And then this time I wasn't able to climb my way out at all as Mere had seen fit to tighten her bindings or something, effectively sealing me up until she decided I could come out.
Well. That could've gone better. Hopefully our next campsite will have ample foraging opportunities to make up for all the time lost to Mere's mischief. Until then all I had to occupy myself with was idly squishing the flesh that confined me and listening to Mere's heartbeat until I fell asleep. It wasn't so bad, I supposed.