Moonlit Coils of Mother's Love

Moonlit Coils of Mother's Love
When a lillend worshipper of Eilistraee finds the drow whom she is tutoring weeping over another brutal assault, she decides to take it upon herself to end the pain her race brings her.

Tags: Drow/Lillend, Female/Female, Size Difference, Unbirth, Transformation

Trigger Warnings: Dungeons & Dragons, World Axis Cosmology

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The full moon shone like a beacon over the forest glade, dancing upon the waters of the spring that flowed from deep inside of a rocky cave that jutted up out of the earth at the glade's heart. Night-blooming flowers filled the grove with sweet perfume, whilst crickets and other insects serenaded the gleaming lunar orb above. Truly, if any place embodied the beauty of the forest at night, it was this place.

As the wind whispered through the trees, it seemed to carry the sound of music - the strumming of a lyre, in fact. The melody grew louder and clearer, interweaving with the natural orchestra of the forest, until, in a crescendo, a figure emerged, seemingly from the moonlight itself.

From the waist up, she bore the figure of a voluptuous elf-maid, with long, shapely fingers, full breasts, and a high fluted neck. Luscious locks of sun-flecked copper rolled down her back, framed by elongated, slender ears - a mark of great beauty amongst the elves and their kin. But that appearance of elfin nature was belied, not only by the rainbow-colored wings that emerged from her back, but also by the way that, from below her girdled hips, her humanoid torso gave way to the coils of a mighty serpent - 20 feet long if it was an inch, with golden scales. For this figure was no mortal, but a lillend; one of the faerie races who cleaved close to the Seldarine.

Keyleth smiled to herself as she finished strumming her lyre, opening her spring-green eyes and drinking in the loveliness of her surroundings. Though the mortal realm was, in many ways, a pale imitation of the unbridled beauty of the Feywild, it still never failed to set her heart aflutter when she slipped through to visit the wild places that were so dear to her. And fortunately, her role gave her plenty of excuses to visit.

Relatively few lillends were willing to pledge themselves to the cause of Eilistraee, favoring the causes of Sehanine Moonbow, Melora or even Kord over that of the Dark Maiden. But Keyleth was of uncommonly tender heart, and Lady Silverhair's calls to redeem the broken, tormented souls of the drow resonated with her in a way that the gods more favored by her kin did not. And so she willingly came to the mortal realms, seeking out places like this, where she could tutor those drow willing to follow the Lady of the Dance. From leading the Circle of Song to teaching them to perform the Evensong, Keyleth's natural love of music found a true expression in what she did, and she was making the world a better place through it. What more could any lillend ask?

She was drawn sharply from such happy musings when her keen ears picked up a far less lovely sound than her music; the sound of somebody weeping. With predatory swiftness, her gaze locked onto the source; a young drow maiden, slumped by the side of the pool and visibly weeping - a rare thing for any drow to do.

"Faeryl!" Keyleth gasped, before racing forward with serpentine grace, her elongated form slithering quickly through the grasp. "What happened to you? Faeryl?" She asked, instinctively reaching out to touch her latest student's shoulder.

The drow flinched away, scrambling over the bank of the pond, looking up at the lillend with teary, fear-filled eyes... until she recognized who she was. "Keyleth!" she cried, and flung herself into the startled lillend's arms. Thankfully, the fey serpent-woman deftly caught the dark elf-maid, feeling her burrow into embrace and cling to her as if she could fade away in the next moment.

"Faeryl, what's wrong? What happened?" Keyleth repeated herself, instinctively stroking the drow's pale yellow hair... which is when she felt her fingers slide through something sticky, matting Faeryl's hair together. Glancing at her fingers made a shiver run down the lillend's spine. "Faeryl, you're bleeding!" she observed, and immediately began humming a curative charm.

As the air momentarily filled with the sweet scent of night-blooming lotuses, Faeryl stopped sobbing, and even managed to muster a weak, tearful smile. "Those farmers had better throwing arms than you'd think," she explained.

"Farmers? ...You tried to go near the village again, didn't you?" Keyleth asked, putting two and two together, feeling her stomach sink.

"I'm sorry, Keyleth, but I just... I was so hungry. I just wanted something different to flame-grilled rabbit and wild greens. I thought if I kept my hood up, I could buy some pastries with a few silver coins and get out of there without any trouble..." Faeryl explained, looking downcast.

"So what went wrong?" Keyleth asked, gently drying the drow's eyes with a delicate brush from one of her wings.

"Would you believe the wind? I was just leaving the bakery when a really strong gust came along and it blew my hood clean off my head... and my hands were full of bread when it happened, so everybody got a good look at me. People started screaming, throwing stones, running for weapons... I had no choice but to run away," Faeryl told her.

"Oh, Faeryl..." Keyleth sighed mournfully, pulling the dark-skinned elfmaid back into her embrace. Faeryl was an incredibly rare treasure; a barely pubescent drow who had somehow avoided ever succumbing to the brainwashing and abuse with which drow children were treated, yet managed to survive fleeing into the Underdark and making her way to the surface. That she had lived this long was nothing less than a miracle. Unfortunately, whilst it made her naturally receptive to the teachings of Eilistraee, it also made her amazingly naive and undisciplined by the standards of her people.

"I hate this!" Faeryl whimpered, snuggling deeper into Keyleth's bosom. "Why did I have to be born a drow? It's not fair! I'm not a bad person - I'm not! But everyone hates me and wants me dead, just because of how I look!"

"Now that's not true, Faeryl," Keyleth assured her, stroking the drow's heair soothingly. "Our Lady of the Dance loves you, and there are people out there who will accept you when they get to know you..."

"No there aren't! And it's because drow are monsters! Cruel, evil, vicious, nasty monsters!" Faeryl protested, shaking her head in denial. "I wish I wasn't born a drow... I wish I wasn't born!"

"Faeryl! That's a horrible thing to say!" Keyleth scolded her.

"But it's true!" Faeryl retorted, staring up at her with angry conviction.

Keyleth's heart cracked at the sight... Faeryl really was just a child. Worse, she couldn't entirely deny that she had a point. For all the followers of Eilistraee struggled to lead the dark elves away from Lolth's embrace, the rumors of the horrible things they did from their lairs in the Underdark were a constant lodestone around their necks. Fear and prejudice would be likely to follow Faeryl wherever she went, for all the many days of her centuries-long life.

She couldn't let Faeryl suffer that. She was such a bright spark; she couldn't let the ugliness and cruelty of the world grind her down. And there was a way that Keyleth could help her... a very drastic way, but one that would guarantee success.

In the privacy of her thoughts, she offered a prayer to Eilistraee, seeking her approval... or at least the absence of her disapproval. She felt no sudden chill in her hands, nor did a cold breeze suddenly disturb the warm summer night. But neither did she see the dancing moonbeams or silvery moon-motes that would indicate the Dark Maiden's favor. Evidently, she would have to proceed with this on her own faith.

The lillend silently thanked Eilistraee for at least allowing her to try, and then spoke to Faeryl. "Faeryl... do you truly mean that? Would you truly give up on being a drow?"

Now the dark elf looked puzzled. "Huh? I... yes... but, why do you ask?"

"Because there is a way that I can grant your wish, it it's what you truly want. I can make you into a lillend, like me," Keyleth explained softly.

Faeryl's eyes went wide in wonder at Keyleth's words. "You can do that?!" she asked. "You can really make me beautiful, like you?"

Despite the gravity of the situation, Keyleth still couldn't help but feel a surge of pride at the drow's approval. "Yes, I can. But if I do this, then you will never change back. You will become kith and kin to me, and remain so for the rest of your days."

"Why would I want to go back?" Faeryl asked. "As a drow, I'll be hated and despised forever, all because of what Lolth makes us do. But if I'm a lillend... I'll be just like you. Please... change me!" she pleaded.

Keyleth hesitated for just a moment, in case Lady Silverhair would manifest her disapproval. When it failed to come, she smiled a sad little smile and nodded. "Alright. If that is what you wish, then I will change you into a lillend."

Faeryl's smile could have lit up a dark cavern, chasing away all doubts that Keyleth had been wrong to offer this. "What do I need to do?" she asked excitedly.

At this, Keyleth gently pushed the drow away, before reaching down and removing her own loincloth. "Firstly, I need you to undress," she told Faeryl.

Faeryl nodded excitedly, wasting no time in peeling off her clothes. Like all drow, she had no shame in her body, and she trusted Keyleth - a character flaw that would have seen her inevitably slain in the dark cities of the Underdark.

Keyleth watched the drow as she removed her clothes, until she stood naked as the Seldarine had made her beneath Eilistraee's moonlight. Then, she nodded and flexed certain muscles in her torso, pulling open the scales that normal held shut her womanhood. "Come here, child," she told Faeryl, shifting her coils so that they formed a makeshift bed before her, beckoning the drow to seat herself upon them.

Once the dark elf had obediently done as instructed, the lillend told her, "Now, place your face here," stroking the outer lips of her wet womanhood.

Her words made Faeryl's brow furrow. "I thought you said you were going to change me. Why are we having sex?"

"I am going to transform you. But to do that, I need a focus, something to channel and control the magic. And this," she placed her hands upon her lower stomach, where her womb lay, "This is the most powerful focus for this kind of magic that there is. I won't lie, this will seem strange, but if you truly want to become like me... I need you to do what I say, okay?"

Faeryl bit her lip, looking warily at the lillend's gentle expression. Though she was trusting for a drow, she was, still, a drow, and suspicion was not unlost on her. But... Keyleth had been nothing but good to her - more of a mother than her own mother had been. "Alright... do I need to lick you?"

The lillend shook her head. "No. Just lie on your stomach and put your face up against it, please."

The drow did as she was told... truthfully, this was not her first time being so close to another woman in this fashion, for she and Keyleth had been intimate before. But this was still strange and unfamiliar territory to her, and so she timidly asked, "Now what?"

"Now I need you to trust me, and do what I tell you to do with my hands. Do you understand?" Keyleth asked her.

Faeryl looked up at her and nodded. Keyleth reciprocated, and then closed her eyes and began to sing. An unearthly yet beautiful melody began to pour from her throat, rippling out into the glade and washing over the awe-struck drow. It was in a language she didn't recognize, yet somehow strangely familiar, and it made feelings well up within her that she didn't recognize.

Another listener would have recognized the feelings as being of maternal love, an invocation to the deepest bonds between mother and child; a pure and innocent form of devotion. But Faeryl was drow; such emotions were alien to the cold, grim and loveless realm of Lolth's people, and so she had no reference to what Keyleth's song was invoking. All she knew was that it spoke to her on a level so deep she was barely cognizant of it. Her cares and her worries fell away, and understanding welled up in their place; she KNEW what she had to do.

When Keyleth reached out and stroked Faeryl's head, ever so gently pushing her towards the lillend's groin without breaking from her song, the drow did not hesitate. She wriggled forward on her belly, Keyleth's scales smooth like silk and erotically brushing against her nipples and her pussy, until she was nose to nose with Keyleth's muff. She paused only long enough to take a breath, and then pressed her face into the lillend's slit. But not merely to lick it, no; she pressed her face into it as tightly as she could, and then she kept on pushing.

Keyleth's breath hitched at the sensation of feeling her pussy spreading open; she'd never actually used this ritual before, although she'd seen it used once. Strangely, the magic seemed almost to be propagating itself, feeding on the lustful desires and pleasures sweeping through her as she found herself being filled more than even the biggest, meatiest cock she'd ever enjoyed - she'd been pegged with her sister's tail once before, and it hadn't felt anywhere near as good as this!

Oblivious to Keyleth's pleasure, save for the way the muscles of the lillend's pussy rippled around her face as if trying to pull the drow inside, Faeryl continued to heed the siren song. She felt no need to breathe, no hesitation, no fear; only desire. She HAD to get inside... she HAD to!

By now, she had managed to fit her entire head inside of Keyleth's cunt, but she couldn't push forward anymore; the angle was too awkward. Unthinkingly, she wriggled backwards, her head emerging with a wet, squelchy pop. Oblivious to the way her hair now clung to her scalp, slick with feminine lubricant, Faeryl carefully inserted one of her hands into the lillend's vagina. Her fingertips disappeared in an instant, followed moments later by her palm, and then her wrist. She could feel Keyleth clenching down around her, contractions rippling through a fleshy tunnel that sucked her arm inside. She was up to her elbow before she knew it, and she still wasn't satisfied.

Without hesitation, Faeryl fed her other arm inside, feeling slick, warm flesh wrapping around them both. Then, with both appendages inside for added leverage, she bent forward again and pressed her head inside. She twisted and she squirmed, feeling the wet pussy spreading wide to take her inside. Now she was in up to her shoulders, the widest part, and she flexed, trying to angle herself to squeeze them through; even with whatever magic Keyleth was working, the lillend's pussy had some limits to how far it could stretch.

It was truly fortunate that the spell could sustain itself, or there was no way that the lillend would be able to keep singing the spell into being. Keyleth had thought Faeryl's previous actions were pleasurable, but comparing them to this feeling was like comparing a candleflame to the midsummer sun. Keyleth was literally paralyzed with pleasure, multiple orgasms rocking her body as the drow stretched her out, shoulders finally twisting her pussy far enough apart to slip on inside. The lillend's hands went to her stomach, and dimly, through the haze of carnal bliss flooding her body, she realized her stomach was starting to bulge as Faeryl's hands slipped into her once-virginal womb.

Emboldened by her success, Faeryl dragged herself forward, squirming through a dark tunnel of writhing, convulsing flesh, feminine nectars basting her dark skin as her head popped forth into a waiting chamber. A fast-pitched thunder drummed in her ears, goading her on and compelling her to bodily haul herself inside, slipping up the tunnel until her hips butted against Keyleth's own. Bracing herself with her arms against the floor of the chamber, Faeryl pulled stubbornly, forcing her hips through the lillend's cunt and dragging them up the tunnel. That left only her legs outside, and with a deft pull, they slipped up Keyleth's pussy too, being drenched by a sudden wave of sticky femcum that erupted from the sides of the tunnel.

But the chamber Faeryl was in had reached its limits. Tight, stretched-taut walls forced the drow to curl up into a foetal position in order to fit... but she was okay with that. She was surrounded by warm, wet darkness, and flesh that wrappped itself around her from head to toe. It was like the biggest, squishiest hug she had ever received. She felt safe her, safe in a way she had never felt before... in fact, she felt so comfortable that, as Keyleth's heartbeat slowed down, the gentle thunder soothing in Faeryl's ears, the drow suddely felt so very, very tired.

She tried to resist, for a moment, but it was to no avail. Eyelids so heavy they might have had lead weights tied to them sank closed, and Faeryl drifted off to sleep. As she did, she as unaware of the feeling of a sinuous tube of flesh winding its way purposefully over her stomach to burrow into her navel...

Within the grove, the final note slipped from Keyleth's lips, leaving the lillend panting for breath. Her hands rubbed over her titanically swollen midriff, her wings beating sluggishly in an effort to cool her down. She felt like she'd swallowed a bucketful of hot coals, and just completed a sexual marathon. Feminine fluids drenched her tail below her pussy, which she could feel slowly sealing itself back to its normal levels, and coated the underside of her enormous pregnant belly. And yet the only thing she could think about was how GOOD it all felt.

Finally, she regained her strength, and looked up at the moon. "I will raise her right, Lady Silverhair," she vowed. And then, slowly and carefully, she began to slither into the depths of the nearby cave, carefully keeping her bloated belly and its precious cargo from rubbing against the ground as she went.

30 days came and went. And then, on the 30th night, as the full moon shone over the glade once more, Keyleth emerged from her seclusion. Moonlight embraced a naked stomach, still hugely swollen, but now only a fraction of the obscenely bloated orb that had graced her midriff a moon ago. Slithering over to the side of the spring, she stretched up as tall as she could, arms and wings outspread, baring her pregnant belly to the eyes of the Dark Maiden in offering before sinking back to the ground, caressing her gravidity with a smile.

"It's time to come out, little one. You've had long enough," she crooned. She felt her passenger squirm inside of her, lazily kicking against her midriff in protest of the idea, and Keyleth giggled in response. "Come now, lazybones; time to come out!" she insisted, and she began to sing, a melodious bell-like voice lifted in prayer to the moon above.

As the lillend sung, her belly began to quiver, visibly rippling as something squirmed and writhed beneath the skin. Her groinal scales gaped wide as birth waters gushed forth, splashing onto the ground and bringing forth black-petaled night-roses where they touched. Keyleth spread her wings out wide, shifting back to use her coiled tail as a base as she sang her birthing song. She could feel Faeryl descending through her canal, but there was no pain; only anticipation, mixed with the pleasure of the most honest effort a woman could undertake.

Coaxed along by Keyleth's magic, Faeryl slid forth with unearthly speed, until a tiny hump covered in silver hair bulged forth at her pussy. Without losing her cadence, Keyleth pushed; once, twice and then, on the third try, as Keyleth's paen rang out through the wilderness, the wet and slimy form of Faeryl slid back into the light once more.

The cries of an infant filled the air, replacing the lillend's music as she reached down and carefully lifted her daughter up. For what had once been a drow maiden was now a tiny baby lillend. And yet, Keyleth could still see who she was before; Faeryl the lillend's skin was the rich dark brown of sweet chocolate, contrasted by the metallic silver of her hair and feathers. From the waist down, Faeryl's tail was striped in black and purple, with belly scales of a rich shade of dark blue.

Keyleth smiled warmly and shook her head with an affectionate chuckle. "You have a strange sense of humor, oh Lady Silverhair. But don't worry; I will raise her to be proud in who she is," she promised her goddess.

The baby lillend cried out hungrily, and Keyleth quickly tucked her in close to her bosom, wrapping her wings around the pair of them for warmth. She let out a squeak of shock as a tiny little wet mouth suddenly latched onto one of her nipples, then giggled in amusement. "You always did love my boobs, didn't you, Faeryl? Well, you'll have plenty of time to enjoy them  now..."

With her hands full of nursing baby, Keyleth couldn't play her harp. Luckily, she still had her voice. As she sang, she and Faeryl slowly faded away into the moonlit, vanishing from the mortal realm and disappearing back into the Feywild.