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Prompt: A group of elven warrior women fall into a Dryad Queen’s trap, instead of rescuing their princess they end up joining her as big fat slob berries.

   The finest warriors the elven kingdom could muster were as useless as dull butter knives as they were carried through the Dryad Queen’s lair by enchanted vines. Each escape attempt the slender women tried was met with a tightening of the green tendrils and a childish chuckle from the woman of bark-like skin that had plagued the forest for centuries. Scornful admonishments tumbled forth from the elven leader’s mouth to ensure the Dryad Queen was reminded of how much she was hated for her fiendish deeds. Stopping to adjust her crown to let her leaf-like hair hang against her black, silken robes, the queen didn’t feel a need to stop the leader’s insults. The problem solved itself upon the Queen opening up the door to her throne room.

   A dead silence fell over the elven warriors as they stared at the massive blue orb hanging above the throne of twisted wood. The lack of sound let them hear the uproarious release of flatulence from the sphere as clear as day. They all clenched their noses, expecting a rotten smell. However, they were treated to the sweet stench of blueberries. Any relief they could find was overwritten as they followed the trails of juice pouring from the object towards its pair of engorged breasts. Looking above the leaking teats, they all shared a collective gasp as they recognized the elven princess’s golden braids swaying against her plumped up cheeks and a vine stuck down her throat.

   No sooner did the group realize the fate of their lost ruler did a swarm of vines begin pumping a variety of juices into their mouths. Their armor tore apart as they swelled up to match the shape and size of their princess. Sitting in the comfort of her throne, the Dryad Queen sampled a goblet of the princess’s blueberry juice as she watched the elves spout out gas from their rears. Watching trickles of sweet liquid leak from the latest additions to her potpourri collection, she mulled over which one she would have grace her throne room first.

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