It was happening again. This time Tyrande Whisperwind, High Priestess of Elune, was aware enough to know what was coming. Even if she did not sleep the long sleep of a druid, she was still a Night Elf, and in tune enough with her own mind to know when she was dreaming. Most of the time, she ignored that knowledge and simply let the dreams play out, usually resulting in a restful enough sleep.
 
But that had changed of late for the High Priestess. Her dreams had taken a strange turn recently, and in truth, had become nightmares. It started out just like this, with her on a hunt. While most of her people were aware of her skill with a bow, not all of the Alliance understood that the High Priestess was also quite the talented and experienced huntress.
 
As such, dreaming about hunting a green-eyed stag in and of itself was not overly surprisingly. The green eyes were a strange detail in an otherwise vague dreamscape, but other than that, there was no initial concern. However, the dream would eventually turn… as it was turning now. Whirling about, Tyrande’s eyes widen as she tries to bring up her bow in time.
 
She fails, the Stag ramming into her and throwing her to the ground with his antlers. A cry leaves the Night Elf’s lips, and she scrambles back to avoid being trampled under his hooves as he moves past her, once again disappearing into the brush. Hurrying to her feet, Tyrande scoops up her bow and arrows in the process, gritting her teeth as she looks this way and that, trying to find her target.
 
But things have already begun to change. The dream has become the nightmare. Tyrande can tell from the mists and the shadows surrounding her that she is no longer the huntress… she is the hunted. She could have probably woken up at that point. But she didn’t even try, for the same reason she hadn’t gone to the druids for answers. Her inner pride as a huntress, as a daughter of Elune, would not allow her to give in so easily.
 
At first, this had been driven by her hatred of what the Stag did to her once it finally caught her. Now though, Tyrande couldn’t bring herself to hate the dream creature, as much as she probably should. Instead, she was driven by a need to prove to herself that she could evade the Stag just a little longer each time.
 
Unfortunately for her, Tyrande was not quite as ‘aware’ in her dream state as she thought she was. In truth, she hadn’t been avoiding the Stag a little longer each time she laid down her head to rest… she’d been getting caught quicker and quicker instead, her subconscious giving in while she thought she was doing her best.
 
Needless to say, the next pass ends with Tyrande laid out on her back, her quiver thrown into the mists in one direction and her bow tossed aside in the other direction. She was defenseless, powerless, the thought of using Elune’s magic not even passing through the High Priestess’ mind. After all, right now, here in this nightmare, she was nothing but a huntress. A failure of a huntress at that, one that couldn’t even handle one measly Stag.
 
Now that he’s over her, now that he’s defeated her, Tyrande finds herself reflexively flaring her nostrils, as she always does. His erection slaps her across the face, and the Night Elf cries out in an ugly manner, even as she slowly begins to lose herself in his musk. Her body writhes beneath him as the Stag rubs his massive cock all over her face, and then down her body. Tyrande feels shame, even as she also feels arousal.

A moment later, her hunting leathers and undergarments are gone, leaving her voluptuous purple body on full display as the Stag continues to rub her down with its cock, all the while those glowing green eyes staring down into hers. Tyrande flushes with embarrassment when the first moan leaves her lips. She shudders with reluctant arousal as the Stag’s cock slips between the valley of her breasts.
 
Finding this first bit of pleasure, of pressure around his member, the Stag begins to hump her tits right then and there. And Tyrande? Tyrande helps him, reaching up and grabbing her breasts so she can squeeze them together around his cock. It’s shameful, it’s humiliating, it’s embarrassing… but she’s already lost, ultimately. Her eyes go crossed, just trying to get a look at the Stag’s cockhead as it pushes up between her cleavage, nearly smacking her chin again and again.
 
As she begins to service the Stag willingly, his musk driving her crazy with lust and need, Tyrande darts out her tongue, and it slips against the Stag’s leaking dick tip. She gets just a taste of his precum, and it’s like concentrated musk in liquid form for the High Priestess of Elune. A guttural moan leaves Tyrande’s throat, and she writhes all the more beneath the powerful beast’s body as he continues to hump her tits to his heart’s content.
 
A small part of her knows this is wrong. Deep in the recesses of Tyrande’s fevered, addled mind she knows that she’s doing something truly obscene, truly grotesque right now, participating in an act so perverse and deviant that she should be utterly ashamed of herself. That small part of her wants to wake up, but it can’t. If she ever had the ability to awaken from this dream before it became a nightmare, she’s certainly lost it now.
 
Unbeknownst to Tyrande, a certain watcher observes from the shadows. A former teacher of the High Priestess masturbates to the sight before them, even as they influence Tyrande all the more, corrupting the poor Night Elf towards their own ends. And there’s nothing that she can do to stop it… but then, by that point there’s no way that Tyrande wants it to end.
 
She’s got the first few inches of the Stag’s massive cock in her mouth now. The rest of his length continues to piston in and out of her purple titties, even as his balls smack against the underside of her full, sizable breasts with every thrust. Tyrande’s eyes are half-rolled up in her head as she sucks in her cheeks and suckles with utter devotion and adoration at the cockhead in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around the Stag’s tip, and she lets out loud, muffled moans even as she does her work, thoroughly enjoying the debauchery that she finds herself in.
 
The Stag, meanwhile, snuffles and snorts, striking at the ground with his hooves every once in a while, even as he continues to enjoy the combination titjob/blowjob that he’s receiving. All good things come to an end though, and just as it’s always been before, the beast gives no warning before he abruptly begins to cum, painting Tyrande’s face and tits and hair white with his seed. The High Priestess slurps up as much as she can get her hands on, thoroughly lost in the pleasure now, completely and utterly taken with her new ‘mate’.
 
She’s been turned into a bitch in heat by the Stag’s musk, and there’s nothing Tyrande wants more than what comes next. A small niggling in her mind tells her she won’t receive satisfaction, no matter how much she gives in… but ultimately, the fevered High Priestess desires nothing more than to cum on the Stag’s cock, climaxing on his shaft again and again in her present frame of mind.
 
Flopping over onto her front, Tyrande lets what remains of the beast’s load slop off of her and onto the grass beneath them, before she plants her face and tits in that very same cum-covered grass, lifting her hips as high into the air as she can behind her at the same exact time. The High Priestess mewls pathetically and needily, even as she waves her shapely purple behind back and forth in the direction of the waiting Stag.
 
Only once she’s offered herself up to him, only once she’s presented herself in such a manner does he move in again and mount her. His front hooves come down HARD on Tyrande’s shoulders, but even in a nightmare like this one, there’s no pain, only pleasure. And when he pushes down on her shoulders, while rubbing his massive cockhead up against her sopping wet cunt, Tyrande feels nothing but the pleasure of being dominated, of being forced to submit by a creature who is her better in every way.
 
And then he’s inside of her. Tyrande lets out a shuddering moan as the Stag takes her cunt, finally. His cock size nearly splits her in two, but in a place like this such a thing is impossible. Instead, the High Priestess simply stretches to accommodate the truly massive member as it pierces all the way to her core. The Stag’s shaft enters her womb without hesitation or reservation, and Tyrande’s eyes roll back in her head as her tongue slips out of her mouth from the sheer sensation.
 
Yet, still she does not cum. No matter how hard or how fast the Stag fucks her, no matter how long his thick, massive prick pistons in and out of her, Tyrande does not find a release. The pleasure builds, as it always does. The High Priestess of Elune is left in a state of obscene delirium as she happily submits to a mere beast’s cock like she’s some sort of bitch slut. And yet, she cannot find that true release, she cannot bring herself to orgasm.
 
The Stag begins to cum again, and that’s when the pleasure seems to reach new heights. As the beast’s seed pumps into her womb and forces it to swell to truly grotesque proportions, part of Tyrande’s fevered mind truly believes she’s finally going to reach her release. The other part, the smaller part, knows better. And it’s growing, even as she ascends to the precipice of orgasm, only to have it snatched away from her as she wakes up.
 
Tyrande Whisperwind’s eyes snap open, and she sits up in bed quite abruptly, her heart pounding and her breasts heaving from an exertion that hadn’t even happened. But even if the dream turned nightmare had all been in her head, she can’t claim that the stickiness between her thighs, puddling and staining the bedding beneath her, nor the frustration welling up inside of her soul, aren’t real.
 
The results of the nightly dream are very real, and Tyrande can only flush in shame, even as her hands slowly slide down the length of her naked body. She’d stopped bothering with nightgowns days ago at this point. And as Tyrande began to finger herself, as she accepted that her slender, long fingers would never reach as deep, nor feel nearly as good as the Stag’s cock, the High Priestess found herself happy that at the very least she and Malfurion did not share a bed at this point.
 
There were many reasons for her shunning of her husband in private company since his awakening, but this hadn’t been one of them, at least not originally. Now though, it was swiftly becoming her most important one. She’d rather he not see her like this. She didn’t want his concern or his judgment or worst of all, his pity.
 
Tyrande would handle this all her own. One way or another, she was going to conquer the Stag in her dreams. She would… she knew she would.
 
And yet, even as she thought such resolute thoughts, the High Priestess had to willfully ignore the fact that she was fingering herself to the memories of his cock burrowing deep inside of her slutty little cunt. Such was the self-denial of a millennia old Night Elf. Night after night, she would resume her solitary hunt… and receive her solitary fucking as she fell before the green-eyed stag once more, lost to his scent, to his taste, to his everything.
 
It wouldn’t be long though. The one orchestrating all of this could only watch from the shadows, her eyes twinkling as she saw the convergence coming. Soon, Tyrande’s dreams would become reality. And then the High Priestess of Elune would know where she belonged.
 
-x-X-x-
 
By the time they arrived via portal at Darnassus, they were a day late. Harry wasn’t overly worried about it though. Not like it was any skin off his back. Jaina on the other hand, was a bit more stressed out over it all, letting her desires get the better of her as she had. On top of that, because they’d not come right away, rather than being directed towards the site of the theft, their little threesome had to be brought before High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind herself to gain permission to look things over.
 
Of course, from what Harry understood, none of the Night Elves would have been particularly happy to give that permission if they’d known that the third member of his and Jaina’s party was in fact Sylvanas the Banshee Queen herself. Luckily, Sylvanas was under a glamour, and since it was a glamour cast by Harry, he knew that it would hold against any number of spells. He was quite confident in himself, at the end of the day. But then, he really had every reason to be.
 
Darnassus was… interesting. Very earthy and nature-y, perhaps too much so for Harry, but he could still appreciate it for what it was. When your city is built atop a giant tree, it made sense that you would go the nature-y, earthy route. Regardless, while there was a whole lot of trees and grass and the like, Harry was far more impressed by the Temple of Elune, even as a Sentinel ushered them inside and up to where Tyrande stood, overseeing everything.
 
“Lady Proudmoore, welcome to my fair city.”
 
Tyrande doesn’t so much as look at Harry or Sylvanas, paying neither of them any mind. Harry isn’t sure whether to be happy about that, or annoyed. Honestly though, he’s not sure what to think of the Night Elf leader in general. Certainly, he’s never met Tyrande before today, and beyond those odd dreams he’s been having, today is his first time meeting any Night Elf whatsoever, at least on a more personal basis.
 
There were a few of the purple-skinned race in Dalaran, but none that he’d spoken to personally for any length of time. All the same, was it just him or did Tyrande seem… distracted?
 
“High Priestess Whisperwind, thank you for your welcome. I and my companions would like to begin seeking out the perpetrator of this heinous crime immediately, so that we can hopefully catch whoever it is behind all of this and recover the Divine Bell from their possession.”
 
Tyrande blinks slowly at that, before ultimately nodding.
 
“Yes… yes, of course. I… you are allowed to begin your investigation. The full resources of Darnassus are at your disposal. I must excuse myself to take care of some… personal matters.”
 
And just like that, the High Priestess strides away. Judging by Jaina’s surprised look, even the Archmage is surprised by just how dismissive Tyrande was with them. But Harry didn’t see dismissiveness in the Night Elf Priestess’ back as she left. He saw indecision, trepidation… anticipation? Something was definitely up with Tyrande. Whether or not it had to do with their investigation, Harry really wasn’t sure.
 
Still, one way or another, they’d gotten permission from the Night Elves’ highest ranking official to conduct their investigation. Soon enough, they’re outside of the Temple of Elune again, and conversing among themselves on what the best method of searching for clues is. Harry’s not entirely sure where the urge comes from, but he ultimately decides to go along with his gut feeling.
 
“I think we’re best off splitting up and covering more ground. Multiple eyes in one place might pick up something that one pair could miss, but time IS of the essence now, is it not?”
 
Jaina and Sylvanas share a glance, and Jaina at least has the good grace to look embarrassed at their tardiness. Sylvanas just smirks, not at all displeased with how they’d spend their time the day before. In the end though, they both nod in agreement as Jaina voices her assent.
 
“Very well, you’re undoubtedly right, Apprentice. Let’s spread out and meet back up as the sun sets to discuss what we’ve been able to discover.”
 
And that’s that. While Harry is of course ever so slightly annoyed by Jaina referring to him as ‘Apprentice’ rather than his actual name, he also understands why she’s doing so. They’re in public right now, and it’d be odd for Jaina’s apprentice to be on a first name basis with the powerful, well-known Archmage. Not to mention her position as leader of the Kirin Tor put them at even more distance… at least in public.
 
Harry tried not to let it bother him too much, despite knowing that he was nowhere near the level of an Apprentice, even in Azerothian Magic at this point. He’d made great strides, very swiftly… still, it would draw unwanted attention his way if his true strength were to be revealed to the greater public. It would- Harry blinks as he stops short and simply stares at the sight before him.
 
The wizard had mostly just been wandering about, a slight niggling in the back of his mind guiding him along. He’d learned to trust such things… after all, if it ever turned out to actually be a trap, he could simply spring the trap and blast his way out of trouble. Still, this was…
 
“Are you… are you a dragon?”
 
He thinks that’s exactly what this is. A baby one, at that. The green-scaled whelping’s eyes flicker with surprising intelligence, before it lets out a cooing sound and spins through the air on its wings, doing a whirl. Then, it bumps into him with its snout and seems to gesture with its serpent-like head for him to follow. Harry stares for a moment, even as it whirls about the corridor he finds himself in, clearly wanting to lead him somewhere.
 
“… Very well, go ahead then and lead the way I suppose.”
 
An excited chirp leaves the green whelp’s snout and it does just that, even as Harry begins to follow it along. He’s not sure where they’re going, but it certainly seems to be somewhere special, especially when other whelps of a similar scale colorization begin to join up with the first. An entire group of the things eventually lead Harry deep into the forest behind the Temple of Elune, through the trees and the underbrush into the wildlife of Teldrassil.
 
Harry blinks as he hears the telltale signs of female pleasure coming from nearby, his eyebrows lifting as moans and gasps and cries for more fill the air. There’s none of the usual grunts and groans from a male though, leading him to believe that whoever’s in the clearing he’s been led to is currently pleasuring themselves… alone.
 
He’s not sure what this has to do with the investigation… but Harry has never quite been able to resist a woman in need of a cock. With a slightly lecherous grin on his face, the wizard tips his non-existent hat towards the green whelps, grows all the more amused when they all tip forward in the air as of to mimic him… and then slips past the crop of trees, none of the dragon whelps following after him as he enters a private area within the forest of Teldrassil, a very special grove known to only a handful of people.
 
Harry has done enough research to know what a moonwell is. He’d also seen a few of the more public ones since he entered Darnassus. The most majestic and beautiful was certainly the one that dominates the Temple of Elune’s main hall or whatever they wanted to call that area. Though, Harry can’t help but think that this particular moonwell, secluded and out of sight, might be able to give that one a run for its money when it comes to beauty.
 
Not because of the moonwell in and of itself, but because of what was within its confines. Or more specifically, WHO was within its confines. It takes Harry a moment to recognize the purple ass before him, though to be fair, he’s only seen it once before while it was still clad in white. All the same, as he moves a little further into the room, the wizard comes to realize he’s not just staring at any Night Elf in an entirely undignified position, defiling a moonwell… he’s watching Tyrande Whisperwind herself defile a moonwell.
 
Hunched over in the center of the pool, the High Priestess of Elune fiercely fingers both of her holes with two digits apiece, clearly desperate for release as her moans and her mewls continue to fill the humid air of the room. The scent of sex is thick from the amount of juices she’s letting off into the sacred, blessed water beneath her, and as Harry walks around the side of the pool, he can see the way her glowing eyes are glazed over as she stares off blankly into space, completely unaware of her surroundings.
 
The sight is one of pure debauchery… and in the end, there’s really only thing Harry can do, isn’t there? Shedding his robes is the work of a moments, and once he’s just as naked as the purple beauty on her hands and knees in the waters before him, he moves to leverage himself into the moonwell, causing a sudden splash as he steps in without a care in the world.
 
Of course, his sudden presence and the disturbance of the waters around her is more than enough to break Tyrande from her pleasure induced trance, and though Harry does not know it, she was quite close to a real release in that moment. Robbed once more of her orgasm, Tyrande snarls as she whirls on the interloper and intruder, not even paying attention to who he is before she begins to attack him.
 
Harry’s green eyes go wide, but he nonetheless manages to bring up his own magic, even as the light of Elune blasts out at him, trying to send him flying back. Instead, he’s able to divert most of the powerful blow, all while dodging to the side, causing the waters of the moonwell to slosh even more from the abrupt movement.
 
“Priestess Whisperwind! So quick to anger! And here I thought you were such a serene individual. But then, I see that you’re neither serene nor as dignified as you like to claim to be!”
 
He’s… not really sure where the taunting comes from. But it feels right. Oh yes, it feels right. And judging by the way Tyrande’s eyes go wide in anger and embarrassment as she snarls at him, he’s got her a little distracted by his taunting. Grinning slightly as he dodges another attack of magic, Harry keeps it up, throwing out taunt after taunt, even as he gets closer and closer to the enraged, naked, horny High Priestess.
 
“Have you always been a slut, or was it seeing me that sent you into such a fit that you saw fit to desecrate this moonwell?”
 
“C’mon now, Tyrande. I know your happy to see me. Your pussy is gushing for my cock.”
 
“God you’re a fiery one, aren’t you? I had you all wrong!”
 
And then he’s close enough, and it’s all over as Harry pulls Tyrande’s hand back by her wrist, the magic in her palm dissipating. At the same time, his other hand goes into her hair, and he grabs a fistful of her green locks as he tugs back her head. Their eyes meet, and as she looks into his vibrant green eyes, the fight goes out of her right then and there, and a whimpering moan leaves her full, pouty lips.
 
Harry grins… and then spins her about and pins her down right there in the moonwell. Her head goes beneath the blessed waters, even as her hips rise to meet his cock. He lifts an eyebrow as she grinds against his length with her hips, and for a moment he assumes she’s struggling… but while she is unable to breathe presently, this isn’t a struggle. This is pure lust. She wants him inside of her, she wants his cock in her cunt.
 
The wizard isn’t sure how the Night Elves ended up with such a slutty leader. From what little he’s read in Dalaran, this is unlike the public face that Tyrande has put on. But then, Jaina and Sylvanas and Vereesa all had their public and private faces too, didn’t they? Well, as they said back on Earth, when in Rome…
 
Growling, Harry pulls Tyrande’s head back up out of the water by his grip on her soaking wet hair, right as she’s beginning to struggle for breath. At the same time as he’s forcing her to arch her back, Harry slams his cock forward into her waiting cunt, filling the Night Elf to the absolute brim and then some. Tyrande desperately inhales as soon as she breaches the surface, but Harry’s massive schlong ramming right into her cervix is like a punch to the gut, forcing all the air back out of her as she lets out a shuddering wail of pleasure.
 
The High Priestess does try to struggle a little bit. She really does. Here and there, Harry encounters pockets of resistance as he fucks the beautiful Night Elf with all his strength. Tyrande Whisperwind is a fighter to the end, even as her hips bounce back to meet his cock with each and every thrust. But that’s fine, because Harry knows how to deal with a fighter.
 
Tyrande’s head goes back under water any time she gets too uppity, and then back up again when she starts to thrash. Her body, already weakened from pleasure, already needing his cock buried deep inside of it, simply can’t keep up the struggle against oxygen deprivation as well. Harry’s member slams home time and time again, and he begins to batter against the entrance of her womb, slowly but surely knocking through her cervix.
 
All the while, Tyrande’s glowing eyes roll about in her head. She’s not sure whether to fight or participate, not sure whether to struggle or simply enjoy what’s happening to her. She’d snuck away to do such a shameful thing as masturbate in her own private moonwell, and she’d been caught by this… this human male. But he had the eyes. He had the Stag’s eyes, specifically.
 
And though his cock was not a beast’s cock, it felt just as big, just as thick, and reached just as deep as the Stag’s shaft reached. More so, as Tyrande soon found out. With a growl from deep in his throat, Harry thrusts forward one final time, and ends up barreling right through the entrance to Tyrande’s womb. His cockhead fills her most sacred of places… and it’s in that moment that her release finally arrives.
 
After what had felt like an eternity of those dreams turned nightmares leaving her completely and utterly unsatisfied, Tyrande is finally cumming along the cock of her Stag. That realization, crystalizing in her mind, sends her right over the edge a second time, and then a third time as well. Harry groans as the High Priestess’ nonhuman cunt clings to him like a wet glove, milking him for his release.
 
And that’s when he cums as well, groaning as he fills Tyrande with his seed. She squeezes every last drop from his cock, her body instinctively taking Harry’s cum into her womb. She’s being bred, Tyrande realizes in that moment. She’s being bred by her mate. Not a Stag, no… now she knew that the Stag was a metaphor for this man, this… this… Jaina had introduced him as a mere apprentice, but Tyrande was of course suspicious of that.
 
This was no wet-behind-the-ears novice. There was something more at work here, between the Archmage and this absolute stud of a man. And now that they were done, now that she’d gained her satisfaction from the embodiment of her Stag, and he in turn had gained his satisfaction from her, Tyrande could go about sussing out just what that was.
 
She was currently at a very potent and very felt disadvantage, but she would not be who she was if she left herself remain there. It was time for her to collect herself and regain her authority. It was time for- Tyrande’s thought processes abruptly freeze up as Harry swipes a finger across her cum-leaking cunt lips, before pushing that messy finger in between her fat, purple ass cheeks, right up against her puckered back door.
 
Eyes wide as he begins to work his finger this way and that, Tyrande looks over her shoulder at the human male, her hair long since released from his grip so he could grab onto her butt for stabilization.
 
“You… w-what are you doing?”
 
Lifting an eyebrow as he hovers his messy, completely hard cock right above her upturned butt, Harry grins wickedly.
 
“What does it look like I’m doing, slut?”
 
Bristling, Tyrande growls and snarls, even as she moves to leverage herself up out of the water.
 
“That is High Priestess Whisperwind to you, and you’re a hundred centuries too young if you think I’m going to-BY ELUNE!”
 
It’s just his finger. That’s the worst part. Tyrande is cut off in the middle of her tirade by Harry shoving his single digit deep inside of her ass. And it feels good. She’s not sure why, but as he gives her a wicked grin and begins to twist his index finger this way and that, Tyrande’s legs and arms wobble as she rests there on her hands and knees, a heart-felt moan leaving her lips.
 
“Keep telling yourself that slut. I could give a flying fuck about your titles or your name. All I see before me right now is a cock-hungry little slut, desecrating one of her own people’s pools with her shame. And I’m not going to stop until I’m satisfied.”
 
That… that made sense, right? Tyrande whimpers, even as Harry adds a second finger to the first, now pushing his index AND his middle finger in and out of her loosening asshole, the lube of his cum and her pussy juices making her back door all the slicker as he works her open bit by bit. Hadn’t she just believed he WAS satisfied. B-But he so clearly wasn’t… and it was her d-duty to make sure he was.
 
Tyrande Whisperwind had been conditioned by her recent dreams. The Stag was manifest in the form of a human male before her right then and there… and she simply couldn’t say no to him. Even if Harry didn’t actually have the Stag’s musk, it was like she could smell it all the same, like it was leaking into the real world and right up her flaring nostrils then and there.
 
Moaning pitifully, the purple-skinned beauty wiggles her ass back against Harry’s fingers. She pants and groans and mewls in quite the pathetic way as Harry plays with her, not even using his cock… at least, not yet. He doesn’t stop until he’s worked three fingers into her ass, and she’s happily humping back against him, barely cognizant of how shameful and obscene she looks… but aware nonetheless. Her humiliation only grows when he pulls his fingers out and she finds herself instinctively whining in disappointment.
 
This startles a laugh from Harry, who then brings his wet hand down hard on Tyrande’s purple butt cheek, giving it a good smack even as he gives the High Priestess a wicked grin.
 
“Well, well… not just a slut, but a butt slut at that are we? I suppose I shouldn’t keep you waiting any longer then.”
 
It’s the only warning she gets before his cockhead is pushing between her ass cheeks and up against her sphincter. Then, he’s through and into her ass, and all Tyrande can do is gasp for breath, even as a low, keening wail builds in the back of her throat. His cock buries itself deeper and deeper inside of her butt, and the sounds Tyrande makes as he goes as far as he can, are inhuman… hell, they aren’t exactly night elven either by the end of it.
 
As Harry fully claims her ass, he pulls back and then thrusts in much more viciously, luxuriating in the shrieks that Tyrande directs up towards her Goddess, her head tilted back and her eyes wide open. Grinning wickedly, the wizard leans over his current fuck toy, and reaches around her head to hook his fingers into her mouth, along either side of her fat, pouty lips.
 
Gripping her by the sides of her mouth, Harry begins to really give it to the High Priestess, right then and there in her own private moonwell. His shaft buries itself inside her ass time and time again, and Tyrande can do nothing but prove his final words right. She is a butt slut. She’s a huge, needy butt slut, and she takes Harry’s cock like a pro.
 
Eventually, Tyrande’s head does fall forward somewhat. Harry’s fingers remain hooked in her mouth, and for the first time the Night Elf is in a position to actually see herself, to see what she looks like then and there in the reflection of the very moonwell she’s been defiling. And not just because of what Harry’s done to her, not just because of the rough, savage fucking she’s received and the butt-fucking she’s receiving now.
 
No, Tyrande was defiling her private moonwell to satiate her own lusts long before Harry arrived. And now, now that she can see herself in its waters, she can see just what a whore she is. Because that’s what’s reflected back to her. Not the High Priestess of Elune. Not a proud, confident Night Elf woman who needs no man to command her or direct her. Not the leader that had held the Night Elves together through years upon years of strife.

She doesn’t see any of those things. Instead, all Tyrande sees is a whore. An honest, bald-faced whore with pleasure and lust and need and arousal in her face and eyes. She can read every line of ecstasy and bliss on her features, see every bit of euphoria in the glowing swirling depths of her pupils. Her tongue waggles out of her mouth like she’s a wild beast in heat, and Tyrande recognizes in that moment that in truth, that’s all she is.
 
The last spark of intelligence is fucked out of her eyes as Harry pounds into her ass, and the creature that takes Tyrande’s place is nothing more than a sex-crazed butt slut that wants Harry’s cock inside of her twenty-four seven from that moment on. Harry is happy to give his latest conquest exactly what she wants, and he thoroughly enjoys himself as he breaks the High Priestess’ ass with his big fat cock time and time again.
 
Tyrande climaxes more times than anyone could keep track of, not that she’s in a frame of mind to do so in the first place. Harry though, Harry only cums once. After thoroughly stretching the Night Elf’s ass to it’s absolutely limits and then some, after pounding her into the waters of her own moonwell until she wanted nothing more than his cock inside of her forevermore, Harry finally cums, his seed pumping into Tyrande’s ass in the same way it pumped into her womb.
 
He fills the Night Elf Priestess’ bowels with his cum, and when he pulls out he watches as the white, sticky ejaculate overflows from her orifice, just as it already is overflowing from her cunt beneath the water. Harry looks upon what he’s wrought… and it feels good. No, more than that, it feels RIGHT. His fingers unhook from the sides of Tyrande’s mouth, and he reaches up to grab a fistful of her green locks instead, dragging her by her lush mane around even as he stands and moves to the side of the pool.
 
After all, there’s still one last hole for Harry to claim, and judging by the reverent, devoted look in Tyrande’s glowing eyes, she’s not about to tell him no. She might not be able to do so, ever again…
 
-x-X-x-
 
Laid out in the cool, crisp waters of the shallow moonwell, Harry lounges against the side of the pool, even as he luxuriates in the sensations that come from soaking in blessed water. At the same time, he quite enjoys the view of the forests around him, and the moonlit skies overhead, the sun having long since set. Only the rhythmic sounds of slurping and suckling and licking from a certain Tyrande Whisperwind interrupt the beautiful scenery… but Harry rather thinks the noises make the moment all the more perfect, rather than detracting from it.
 
Tyrande’s glowing eyes near so much as stray from his bright green pupils, even if he looks away from her, as she attempts to swallow another load of his seed, cum streaming from her nostrils. Her body is a mess, covered in cum and sweat that can only be washed away in part by the moonwell that she continues to stain and defile with her very presence now.
 
A cloud of white spunk has turned the waters around her crotch murky, her abused ass and cunt leaking at a consistent rate all this time. Even as she does her best to swallow his load, Harry just smiles and runs a hand through her matted, sopping wet hair. When he’s finally done cumming a third time, Harry allows her to pull back, watching with curious eyes as Tyrande slips her lips over his cockhead, allowing him to leave her mouth with a pop and a slurp as she licks at his dick tip one last time.
 
Then, she straightens up in the pool waters, kneeling there with her breasts framed by her arms as her hands fall upon his cock, stroking it up and down, back and forth. Harry grunts at the feeling of her palms and her fingers on his shaft, but other than that gives no further reaction.
 
“I’ve finally met you, my Stag.”
 
The words come out of nowhere, but despite the abuse she just did to her own throat in the name of his pleasure, Tyrande’s voice is as ethereal and melodic as ever. Lifting a brow, Harry chuckles darkly, even as he questions her new ‘pet name’ for him.
 
“Your ‘Stag’?”
 
Tyrande flushes a little at that, embarrassed but also helplessly turned on, a wide smile spreading from ear to ear as she bobs her head up and down.
 
“Yes… I have dreamt of you. Of the Green-Eyed Stag. I’ve known of your coming for some time now.”
 
Leaning forward, Tyrande rubs her cheek against the side of Harry’s cock, nuzzling it happily and moaning all the while. The act very nearly has Harry pushing her down to fuck her all over again, but in truth he’s actually more intrigued by what she’s saying then by taking his pleasure from her body once more. Frowning ever so slightly, Harry considers the Night Elf’s words.
 
“You… you dreamt of me?”
 
Tyrande moans again, but happily explains herself. She tells of her dreams to Harry, and Harry listens with mounting interest as the High Priestess of Elune explains how much of a fucking dream-slut she is. Not that she says that, but Harry can read between the lines. Apparently, Tyrande has been getting pinned down and fucked by a Stag with distinctive green eyes for a week straight now. Each and every night, she’s been hunted down, defeated, and conquered by a beast.
 
Harry isn’t sure how to feel about the comparison. Obviously, the Stag WAS meant to be him. Obviously, someone or something had been either sending Tyrande warnings… or more likely, given how he happened upon her, they’ve been paving the way for him. It explains the High Priestess’ shift in attitude a bit more, but Harry can tell that while she might have been influenced by these dreams, Tyrande herself is not under any sort of mind control spell or anything of the like.
 
This was her choice, just as sneaking off to masturbate in her private moonwell was her choice. It was… but hey, shouldn’t Harry be offended at being compared to a rutting Stag? Eh, maybe not. It kind of fit him, if he was being totally honest. And it had been his father’s animagus form. Not to mention HIS Patronus. All in all, it was actually very fitting indeed.
 
It made him wonder who or what knew him well enough to create the metaphor that had infected Tyrande’s dreams. Was it… was it the horned Night Elf from HIS dreams?
 
Just as Harry’s getting ready to interrogate Tyrande about said Night Elf, hoping that the High Priestess of the entire race might have some idea who his own dream lady was, two familiar faces come bursting through the trees and into the secluded grove. Jaina and Sylvanas explode out of the underbrush, and Harry lifts a brow as the pair stop dead. He wonders why Sylvanas is no longer disguised… before realizing just how long he’s been away. His glamour had probably worn off.
 
Well, he’s probably in for a dressing down. Except… neither Jaina nor Sylvanas say a word. They’re dead silence as they freeze in place and just STARE. Harry’s other eyebrow lifts alongside the first when they just KEEP staring, as if neither of them has happened upon him fucking another woman before now. Because they both had. He’s just about to admonish the two for gawking at Tyrande’s naked tits when he realizes something important.
 
Neither woman is looking at his current conquest. They aren’t even staring at his cock, which is swiftly growing thick again in Tyrande’s skilled hands. Instead, they’re looking at something… above him? Harry frowns as he turns to look behind him, but there’s nothing there. No enemy to fight. As he turns, an odd weight that he hadn’t felt before suddenly makes itself known atop his head.
 
Reaching up, the wizard brushes his fingers against something exceptionally solid. Green eyes going wide, Harry pushes Tyrande out of the way and leans forward in the moonwell, choosing a part of the otherwise pristine waters away from Tyrande’s murky spot to look at his reflection. What he finds, much to his shock, is a pair of majestic stag antlers atop his head, and a pair of actually-glowing emerald eyes staring back at him.
 
People have always characterized his eyes as ‘bright green’ before, but this? This is ridiculous. His eyes are literally glowing with power as he stares down at himself in the glistening reflection of the moonwell, the moon itself providing the light by which he’s seeing himself. In that instant, a flicker of something draws Harry’s gaze towards the moon’s reflection, and he’s not sure if it’s a trick of the light or not, but he thinks he can make out a woman there, or more specifically another night elf.
 
Except, she’s more than another night elf. Somehow, Harry knows that instinctively in his bones, even as the elf in the moon blows him a kiss before dragging up a wet finger from ‘below’ and sucking on it lustfully. And then she’s gone, and the moon is just the moon again as Harry rears back, glowing green eyes wide and his heart pounding in his chest.
 
Jaina and Sylvanas are still staring at him shocked. Tyrande is clearly looking to get at his cock again and whining pitifully as he pushes her away. Standing up, antlers and all, Harry swallows thickly as he looks to the two females he arrived in Darnassus with.
 
“I’d like to say I can explain… but I really can’t. I have no idea what’s going on anymore.”
 
Jaina and Sylvanas exchange a glance, and Harry grimaces as he looks down at himself, and at Tyrande, all while feeling the antlers atop his head.
 
This had gotten awkward, fast.

-x-X-x-

If you'd like to read more of my work not seen on this website, check out Hentai-Foundry.com and QuestionableQuesting.com where I have over a thousand stories! I'm known as 'Cambrian' on those websites.

If you'd like to contribute to funding my writing at all, check me out on Patreon.com/Cambrian

Thanks for reading!