Arwen and Liv and Mias Not so Excellent Adventure:

BY : VladimirHarkonnen
Category: -Fourth Age to Modern times and beyond > AU - Alternate Universe
Dragon prints: 884
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor do I know Liv or Mia Tyler. I do not make any money from this work of fiction.

RIVENDELL:

The Quendi, Istari, and Men and Dwarves of Arda, even the treacherous servants of the Enemy in the East had been startled beyond extremes when the stars changed over Arda and the stars were wrong. They knew the works of Eru, he who was Illuvatar, and these were not them. Dull, sterile starlight with three shades: ivory, gold, dark green. A whispering sound and even the fell creatures of Sauron did not kneel before their lord and master when the whispers overawed his works and his great kingdom impartially as they did other things. Dreams and visions stalked, a giant clad in dark green armor wielding a Warhammer or a sword, smiling and her muscles rasping with each motion she made and silver blood visible in her veins, eyes burning with brilliant and terrible flame. Teeming armies and a great tableau of unknown worlds and races, and a secret that lurked within and through it and none wished to admit what they saw was what it was.

Mighty a loremaster as he was,  Elrond Half-Elven was at a loss as much as the still greater perverted wisdom of Sauron was. Something beyond their ken had appeared, and in hours Arda trembled in the mocking caress of a brilliant and terrible being, a mind keener than any they had encountered at one remove. As mighty or mightier than Illuvatar, but counterbalanced and leavened by an endless all-consuming Hunger that deserved the H, the impulse that was so mighty it was though it had become animate and glorious and terrible in its splendor. Visions of a towering giant of equal height in bright silver armor with a strange sigil on her breastplate, clouds of lightning-wreathed smoking responding to her will, bone-white skin and obsidian hair and eyes that didn’t merely glow like suns butt seemed to be. Still others, countless legions of the lost and the damned bearing the twin-headed dragon against the armies marked in the sigil of six crossed spears in an A-like shape.

Within the changed skies it seemed like a new Dawn had come but Elrond and the other Quendi froze in still greater fear. Rival visions overlapped, wars among endless stars and expanses of Ea that they could not have imagined and the sensations were strong enough that the lesser creatures of Arda withered as with heat and were pierced as with a deadly cold.

Sickly brownish-green light slammed down into Rivendell with a thunderous impact that raised dust in a cloud like a mushroom, and from that cloud and the fallen trees that were laid low with brutal, casual ease, rose a giant with scintillating glowing eyes that burned with dull, sterile light. She was a towering flaying force wrought into the form of a being that was a giant tall enough to gaze at the house of Elrond when landing on the very floor beneath Rivendell and the vast serrated smile that gazed at the Ardans was enough to freeze them with terror. The more psychically sensitive Quendi and Gandalf fell to their knees, blood oozing from their mouths, ears, noses. Only Arwen Undomiel seemed unaffected and the creature’s burning eyes narrowed at her and she froze in fear, wishing so very much to be invisible. A great Warhammer formed out of  nothing, wreathed in the hellish unlight that flowed through the creature’s power, the stark hell-glow striking things and infecting them with ivory and gold presence. The hammer was raised in the entity’s right hand in a mocking challenge but then another spear of light followed and the giant in bright silver armor landed with an equivalent impact of equal devastating force.

To her right was a giant of dark brown hued skin and an appearance like a greatly oversized Man, but his flesh was metal that glowed with witch-light and his hands transformed into cannons that scintillated with false stars at their disposal and his own smile was a grim and willfully brutal one. To her left a figure of molten lava in a dinosaurian form, a vast crest that created a heat shimmer and the ground beneath her turned to magma, and such was the heat that many of the lower mortals and beasts breathed their last, choking on dry lungs. The Dwarves and Quendi endured and Arwen’s pendant glowed with a brilliant light and the wards over the presence of her body gleamed the more brightly to shield her. The entity formed great and terrible wings of golden fire and raised a sword aloft, the sword igniting in a golden flame that played off with terrible dissonant jagged edges.

The other god’s presence was no flaying force but a stolid sun, gravity deforming in her presence and an impulse to bow overwhelming all, even Arwen. The one on the left bellowed in a primordial foghorn that finished slaying all life for hundreds of leagues around Rivendell beneath the level of the lowliest beasts, met by the one on the right with a profound bellow that was as overpowering and no less destructive, sounding almost mournful.

Faster than even Gandalf could see, the entities lunged at each other and the shockwave shattered the buildings of Rivendell, and the Black Smoke encountering the rolling storms of Unlight and ripping open a hole between worlds. And it was this howling bass rumble that grasped Arwen in its singularity and with her a few more random Quendi, who fell into it screaming. Elrond held onto one of his couches for dear life and tried to grasp Arwen, but he failed. Beneath them the roars of the Gods that were at war and the crackling of energy that slammed into one, the hammer hewn in two by the flaming sword echoing, and it was that sight that was Arwen’s last as the portal devoured her.

EARTH, SEPTEMBER 2018:

The planet’s changes were subtle at first. Hubble detected the brief flaring of an anomalous energy reading at two separate points on the planet. A rippling portal of scintillating energy like the more beautiful nebulae opened in the Earth’s atmosphere, producing a deep bass rumble that was heard over the Atlantic Ocean and over Antarctica. The three Quendi hurled from each of the two portals didn’t have time to scream as the Earth’s atmosphere burned their flesh, leaving their souls to wander bewildered, for no Halls of Mandos were there to greet them.

Another such portal opened in New York. Dave Gardner had to be elsewhere from Liv for a bit, and he had taken the boys with him as a ‘present’ for Liv, who was enjoying time to just be with her sister Mia, Liv relaxing beneath her sheets nude as the day she was born. When a bass rumble erupted and she awoke to see a strange light source in her room, a howling shock effect made her grateful Mia had stayed out late clubbing. The light blasted clean through her house, disintegrating walls and her television set in her bedroom, and a screaming figure still oozing traces of the light from the portal landed on top of her, the tattered remnants of a dress of otherworldly beauty on her body.

 

Thus was it that a six months pregnant Liv found herself facing the immortal and undeniably and awe-inspiringly beautiful Arwen, finding that the efforts of special effects to do her character justice fell far before the reality. Liv was a beautiful woman whom time and children aged her in reverse to become more beautiful with the passage of time. The mostly nude, bar the charred remnants of her dress on the lower part of  her right arm, a strip of it on her right side, and tatters of it falling on her bed, which smoked a bit, from between her legs (and unknown to her, then, a portion of it in a disturbing fishnet like pattern still on her ass.

Liv didn’t move much of the sheets off her, just enough to expose her tits swollen by her pregnancy and the upper part of her bump, because she couldn’t. She gazed into an angeless being whose face was an uncanny mirror of her own, timeless, with bright brilliant eyes that caught her and captivated her. She had been Dave’s fiancée, mother of one child born and another on the way. Not anymore. She was Arwen’s from the point of looking into her face, heedless of the reality that the collapsing portal had gutted her house totally.

Arwen for her own part took a deep breath that she had been holding, and then gasped, as the weightless sensation faded. It was then that she recognized her hands were on sheets, on hands within the sheets. And it was then that she looked at the Man, well, Woman, whose eyes were hypnotically fixated on her own.

Her jaw dropped.

Who are you?

The question was flawless Sindarin, and Liv, grateful she retained the language as well as she did, answered:

An actress. I…..played you in a movie, and I will explain…..all of that. And all of what it means.

Arwen raised an eyebrow, but looked more closely. The resemblance was indeed uncanny, and it amazed her. She lacked the shining glory of an Elven soul and the timeless flesh and the centuries of experience in the pleasures of same that animated Arwen, but she was as close a duplicate as could be imagined.

My name is Liv, Liv Tyler.

It was a strange name, of no tongue that Arwen knew. Recognizing belatedly that she was straddling a woman who was bare and that her belly showed she was at the very least fertile, Arwen blushed herself and raised herself to sit beside the other woman, who turned to face her, moving with some difficulty to keep her bump comfortable. Her tits held Arwen’s gaze, and Arwen, knowing that whatever the woman’s life had been like, that the beauty and unparalleled grace of her ancestor Tinuviel so neatly reborn in her had fixated her on her like a baby bird, shrugged. She reached out with her hand and cupped the woman’s right one, her touch gentle, her fingers inhumanly long. Arwen was taller than Liv, who was six feet tall herself. Arwen was closer to seven, but shared a body type with Liv. Liv wasn’t quite so egocentric as to see a person from another universe purely in terms of herself, but she couldn’t deny that Arwen was anything but herself, taller, with an eldritch glow that was…..she forgot how to speak and only her body refusing to die meant that she remembered how to breathe. Breathing lightly, Arwen smiled and then leaned downward. She knew Aragorn and the Council were in all probability dead by now. She was lost, alienated. Stuck in a world that was not her own, and had only this shorter and somewhat inferior duplicate of-

Her lips touched Liv’s own and it was a kiss unlike any other kiss from any human woman. Liv groaned in delight, the sound primordial and arousing Arwen. Neither heard Mia’s friend pull up in her car, followed by a designated driver with his own, and letting her in. When Mia stumbled into the house the blast zone from the portal and the still-smouldering nebula-light caught in embers sobered her up with a power that was itself awesome for her.

The sound of Liv’s bed creaking also alarmed her. Other than herself, there was nobody here, and that was…..not good. Rooting around to find herself her Beretta, Mia made sure the safety was off and it was armed, and she strode very cautiously. The house wasn’t merely changed, it was obliterated. Everything here had been disintegrated, not even a dust to leave traces of the furniture, the pictures, and the rooms. Liv….was her sister….

Breathing heavily, and then remembering she had a loaded, armed firearm in her hands, making herself stop, take deep breaths, and then move straight to the exposed bedroom, where a figure with black hair was on top of her sister, kissing her, a hand moving. She saw the person glowing. Her eyes widened and she froze, beguiled by a Presence that was strange, and clearly non-human. That couldn’t be right. Nothing, no-one, there was-

Liv was moaning breathily, and Mia snapped out of it for a moment. Someone literally broke into Liv’s house, somehow did all of this, and was raping her sister? Fine, that person would eat a bullet.

So was it that with a thunderous expression on her face and a loaded pistol in her arms Mia Tyler found Arwen Undomiel fingering her sister, whose face was caught up in an O-face that left Mia’s own jaw dropping in awe, and her eyes were drawn to Liv’s flushed body, to her sister’s exposed nudity. Her sister had a bush, a normal woman’s bush with minimal trimming to leave her labial lips bare, but the glowing seven-foot tall woman was clean-shaven, unnaturally so, and her gaze lazily turned to Mia’s own. She was a figure who glowed with a light that was holy, as odd as the word seemed in that context, and in her eyes was a millennia-old entity that left Mia speechless, understanding her sister’s calmness.

Before today, Mia had at most been partially bicurious and open to being with another woman, and with more than a bit of a crush on her sister Liv. A crush that horrified her at points but was sublimated into the kind of closeness that they had and into Liv encouraging them to sleep nude together in the same bad. To her there was nothing sexual at all about it, for Liv was a woman with a normal moral calculus and a staunch belief that there was nothing automatically sexual about nudity.

Perhaps so, where Liv was concerned. The glowing seven-foot tall being, for the pointed tip of her right ear that poked through her hair made it clear that she was no human, however, could not be other than sexual when nude. It was that very resemblance and more to the point the sheer inhuman brightness of the blue eyes within her head that made Mia gasp.

“How the fuck?”

Who is she?

Mia couldn’t speak the Elf language or whatever it was to save her life. Liv, who was still being fingered with extraordinary skill honed by millennia of exploration of her body, and of others, Elven men and women, Dwarven men and women, even a furtive shameful set of trysts with an Orc that held her captive until Elladan and Elrohir rescued her and was at the edge of an orgasm needed the fingers withdrawn and the question asked again in a sharper tone:

WHO. IS. SHE?

Her gaze focused. “Sis?” The word wasn’t understood by Arwen, but the physical similarity, the reaction to being caught in so intimate a moment that was akin to when Elladan had caught her with that noble of Lothlorien and seen her full nudity, and likewise in reverse to when she had sought to shower in one of the blessings of Aman bequeathed to Lothlorien and had seen him, that was all Arwen needed. She looked again. The sister had a much more ample bosom, but beside from that there was a strange mirror of both.

Your sister. Ah. That makes sense.

With a slight edge of mockery, knowing her power beguiled the other woman who held a strange thing in her hands that looked like a toy of some sort, she resumed fingering her sister and gave her a gloating challenging stare. Mia’s eyes followed her hand and Liv’s wide-spread legs, which as Arwen turned to her, she used a slight incantation that Elven women used to retain their bare appearance to seemingly literally vanish Liv’s bush, exposing further her sister’s flushed arousal.

Well?

Even not understanding the precise word, the tone made it clear to Mia what the strange Elven-Liv wanted. Mia put the pistol on safety, unloaded the clip, double-checked that it was unloaded, and then swiftly yanked off her dress, and her panties, having foregone the bra for her night clubbing. Slipping the panties off, she stood in her full glory, exposed to the gaze of the elf whose eyes met her own with a twinkling amusement.

As Liv kept her legs spread wide and came with a yelping breathy scream, Mia was beckoned with a single finger, and she strode to the Elf-Liv, whose own legs were spread wide and her own twat clearly glistening with arousal.

I wonder if you know how to please a woman?

Arwen’s twat was not unlike that of a human woman, having labia that extended out a bit, but where a human’s clit had to be coaxed from its hood, the Elven one was always visible and still more sensitive. As Mia squatted between the other woman’s legs, she extended her tongue and gently caressed the clit and Arwen hissed in delight.

Mia in turn met her gaze with delight, amusement, and arousal all in one, flushed. Liv, still on the high from her own orgasm, sighed and stared at the ceiling, only gradually feeling the extraordinary pleasure ebbing, toes curling, sweat-sheened body glistening in the light of the room. The sound of someone noisily slobbering at a pussy awoke her with a start and she looked much more keenly. It was then that it dawned on her that much of her house was totally gone, and she realized for the first time with a chill of fear that dispelled the beguiling power and glory of Arwen that if her sons had been home, they would-

The fear was such that she belatedly realized just how absurd the whole thing was, that she’d acted like the main character of a badly written porn story, and then her gaze turned. A  being out of her own movies was in her bed, tattered charred traces of a dress, and her bed likewise charred and exposed parts of her mattress visible from where the energy had lain down. A head with hair as dark as her own bobbing and lapping at the cunt of the Elven figure next to her, purring in content with her long fingers gently rubbing circles of Liv’s bump, her baby reacting, and a glow seeming to spread.

The implication took a moment to hit her and then she felt the magic and the reorientation of her ties to other people being overwritten by the Maia heritage of Arwen, a pulse of something her ancestor Melian could have warned her about but Melian had long since returned to Valinor, Alfheim, and even if she hadn’t was in another dimension. Arwen did not understand what was happening though Liv did and the fear of this Elf’s magic swirling through her, altering her unborn child and the glow burning through her skin,

Liv’s scream would have shattered glass had it been a thing of sound, but it was not. Instead Liv’s scream was silent and as Arwen climaxed with her own yelping sound that was at several inhuman kinds of pitches, Mia leaned back, sitting Indian-style. The sound of her sister making a choked stifled scream cleared the spell momentarily and then she started and raised herself to her feet.

“Liv? Sis, what’s-“

She looked to the Elf.

“What the Hell are you doing to my fucking sister? Get your filthy-“

Arwen was by then fully aware of the change and sought to move her own hand but it was fixed, and seeing this, Mia’s anger that had her face with a jutting jaw and a cat-like hiss changed swiftly to worry, and the swiftness was marked by her grabbing the Elf’s arm likewise, but the hand was fixed. When the glow reached a crescendo, for a moment, it was as bright as noon and both Mia and Arwen had to close their eyes. Then it faded.

Liv’s belly had a lower-tier glow like Arwen’s own, and as she put her hand on it, protectively, she looked to Arwen in horror.

What did you do to me?

I don’t-I don’t know. I don’t know.

“What is she saying, Liv?”

“She doesn’t know what happened.”

Liv’s voice was haunted.

“My baby doesn’t feel right.”

Looking to Arwen.

The baby doesn’t feel right.

Arwen’s gaze was dull for a moment, trying to process things and uncannily mirroring the thoughtful expression of Elrond such that for a moment a face like Liv Tyler’s became a more beautiful mirror of Hugo Weaving’s, something that induced disquiet in Mia that left her scrambling for the gun, and Liv hyperventilating, pupils dilated, knuckles white, and trying to move, to run, to flee. But she couldn’t.

Then Arwen looked to her.

I don’t know how I did it, I don’t think I even knew it could be done, but…..you were bound to me as Aragorn was in my world. He was…..a Man. You are….a Woman. A pregnant Woman. The bond………

Her hand touched Liv’s bump again and Mia’s fingers hovered near the switch from safety to active, as Arwen’s own breathing became more hyperventilating itself and her bright eyes had a degree of sorrow that again stayed Mia’s hand.

I think your child will be of my lineage somehow, and I……I…..Eru Illuvatar, what did I do?

“She……claims she changed my baby to be like her, is the s-sh-what the FUCK?”

That’s my guess, Arwen huffed, and she shrugged her body, her tits jiggling and holding both Tyler sisters captivated to their gaze.

Arwen rooted around and found one of Liv’s dresses, slipping it onto her and brushing off the charred elements of her own. What fit Liv well, and a bit loosely to beneath the thigh was straining to accommodate Arwen’s own cleavage and ended just to a point that as long as she was standing none could detect her bare pussy.

We can’t stay here, Arwen murmured to herself. But where can we go? This isn’t my world, I…..

She looked to Liv.

Do you have a horse?

I have a car. The last word wasn’t translatable to any language and Arwen cocked her head curiously.

A what?

A….carriage. An iron chariot that drives itself.

What?

……

Exactly what it sounds like, Undomiel. An iron chariot. Why?

We can’t stay here-er…..what’s your name?

Liv. That’s Mia Tallarico, my sister.

Liv’s breathing resumed hyperventilating, and Arwen then turned to her sister.

The two of you need to come with me. If I am here, other things like me might have come through things, too. This…..this place is too dangerous for you.

Such was the power of Arwen’s voice that it convinced Liv, who looked to her sister.

“Mia, get dressed. We need to go. Arwen’s right.”

“Right about what? Why are we going anywhere? Because the rapist who mutated my unborn niece said so?”

Yes. Come with me. Now.

“She says to come with her.”

Frowning, not understanding why Liv was so convinced or why she went along with it, Mia got dressed and Liv slipped into a maternity dress that was form-fitting but comfortable, no underwear because of the necessity to leave. Such was the speed they left that Liv barely had time to get on shoes and socks, and they piled into a car. Liv drove, and they drove heedlessly, reaching from New York state through northern Pennsylvania, to the Cuyahoga National Forest.

            There Arwen smiled and stepped out, and as Liv and Mia scampered off to pee, Arwen, whose physique and magic-enhanced frame was such that it took her much longer to feel hunger or other such urges, relaxed and let herself begin to sing, tapping into the music of the Ainur. Elemental magical harmonics were unleashed, and physics was forever altered, with the diffusion outward occurring on a slower level that would not unfold in its fullness for one hundred thousand years into the furthest reaches of space, but on Earth the changes lasted the time it took Arwen to literally sing into existence New Rivendell, a palatial home in the trees, altering the trees with a joyful light in her eyes. A place worthy of herself, of her……of her women, for she refused to admit that they were slaves at best, beguiled by what the lesser races of Arda called magic, and of her new unborn child. The trees changed, a mallorn forest coming into existence, and the spells that held Liv and Mia faded finally in some senses, never to fully be restored, but a knowledge that a being whose harmonics could alter trees to produce houses and transform trees of Ohio to a mallorn forest was not someone to dismiss lightly.

            The music of the Ainur echoed outward and the Earth changed. Magic awoke, and beneath the nearby metropolis of Cleveland, the fell forces of a Hellmouth made real began to surge outward on a night of fire and fury, and as Hellmouths opened and fantasy became reality, tears unnumbered began to be shed…..

FIVE MONTHS LATER, NEW RIVENDELL:     

Arwen’s song had changed the world immeasurably. Gods and mortals, fantasy and reality, met and merged and both suffered the more greatly with the union. Arwen sensed aspects of her deeds and their changes, but could not bring herself to truly care. Aside from her newborn daughter with her new wife, the Lady Liv, as she insisted on calling her, and her maid who looked after and would raise the child, she had nothing at all. In truth she had claimed Liv so utterly that only occasionally did the lovely woman remember she had once been someone very different. In Arda she would have known their fates and her lifespan, but when her power had surged into Liv and two nights later into Mia, who had writhed on the ground for hours, eyes rolled into her head, she had no clue what these changes meant. The ravages of time on their flesh had seemed to halt and even both reverse and change in other aspects, the two becoming fuller, more mature women but carefully tamed dolls in gilded cages.

Liv had belatedly understood part of things when she found herself exploring the woods away from Arwen, clad in nothing but her birthday suit, moving as lightly over the landscape as Arwen did. The Event had changed the world, and some who had adored an eroticized image of animals had awoken to find themselves transformed into horrid cannibalistic beasts. None haunted the Cuyahoga Forest, however, because Arwen’s power was like insect repellent to them. Nothing troubled her, and the wind over her nudity was soothing. She rubbed her stomach. The stretch marks from her second pregnancy had vanished, something that troubled her, and her stomach was taughter than it had ever truly been.

The intimate nature of the vanished stretch marks had given her pause, and she’d stopped beneath the shadows of trees where the light of the Sun broke through intermittently to poke and prod at her herself. Her stomach truly was taught, to a point that she didn’t understand the nature of the change and wasn’t sure she wanted to. Her curves, somehow, were slightly more pronounced, though her tits had only grown because of the pregnancy and that hadn’t altered a bit, thankfully.

She looked behind and slapped her ass, and the ass instead of rippling with fat the way it used to, was firm and the smack was loud enough she looked around.

“So it wasn’t just Eldariel, then.”

Tears flowed from her eyes at that point and flashes of being tied and bound in a bed, the Elleth learning that she had loved this, craved for it. That first time she had been bound to the wooden bedposts, a carefully modified bridle inserted into her mouth, ropes around her tits and looping from her arms between her thighs, which were held partially above the bed. It was not comfortable, not in the least, and she understood that was the point when Arwen had placed her head on her shoulder and whispered to her in heavily accented English:

“You are mine, my bonded. Mine.”

Her tongue, inhumanly shaped in parts, with a length and dexterity that was one of the various subtle details of Elven difference looped around Liv’s ear, exploring her lobe and her flat upper ear, something that aroused her bonded in ways she could never fully fathom. Flushed with the arousal and the surrender to helplessness to the ageless experience of Undomiel, Liv had gulped with shame and pleasure as the woman’s arms had slid down her body feathering along the ropes, as she jerked slightly. Mia had come in then. Liv wore dresses that Arwen had taken quietly after Liv had taught her to drive, taken and modified with her singing, or she wore nothing at all. Mia, as a maiden and someone audacious enough to threaten their mutual lover, was almost invariably nude or allowed only a necklace Arwen made for her.

Arwen did not trust her with clothing or to have anything she could or would refashion into a weapon. Arwen had likewise sought to make sure Mia knew if she fled she’d be in more trouble than if she’d left the first time she’d bound Liv after she’d seen Liv climax to Arwen’s swiftly moving finger in her pussy, leaving Liv with blinders and her arms tied such that her legs were spread. Mia had come in then, taking a wooden dildo enchanted to feel and act like a real cock, and unknown to Mia or Liv, gifted with something extra. Realizing it was Liv, not her mistress, who awaited her, Mia had refused to fuck her sister incestuously, only for Arwen to give a dramatic sigh and then blur upward in speed, grabbing Mia by her hair, and speaking softly into her ear:

“You will take the Lady Liv, little maid, because I do not give you the option otherwise. You cannot leave.”

Liv’s mind refused to recall what happened when Mia’s dildo entered her, until that belated surprise that had jolted both of them, and Liv prayed that she wouldn’t have the fate that she knew that if that magic duplicated other things could be possible. That, however, was a remembrance within the remembrance. That first time of bondage had seen Liv climax in a dozen consecutive orgasms that rolled for a minute and a half and then passed out, hanging unconsciously over the enchanted bed, awakening on the couch in perfect nudity, given a tender kiss by her mistress.

Arwen had spoken then:

You are so lovely, and then her hand had lightly caressed Liv’s tit, and Liv had winced slightly. Not from pain, but from the aching memory of Dave and his own love of her body. Arwen frowned slightly, as she always hated when Liv remembered Dave. Her seeking to punish her for that had led her to this moment. Nude, in the woods, and with her changed body at least several miles from where she’d been. Alone.

            It seemed hours had passed for the Sun was low and she was far enough that she felt the tug of the bond, and realized then that Arwen could see through her eyes, could keep tabs of her. The image of Arwen’s smiling face enchanted her and as she stood nude, a couple of refugees fleeing a monster that had awoken to the north had seen a fully nude woman standing staring into empty space. One of them, a fan of fantasy before the reality of living with fantasy as opposed to reading it had hit humanity in the face like  a Mack truck paused.

            “Jesus Christ, that’s Liv Tyler! She is alive!”

            The same individual, a man who’d been burly before the Event and was now rail thin and emaciated strode to her cautiously.

            “Some damned monster got her, looks like. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here, let alone….like that.”

            The other man, who’d gained more muscle but not that much more, looked her over appreciatively.

            “She’s aged nicely.”

            “Should we?”

            They nodded and went to her, placing their arms around her, intending to move her elsewhere. It was then that a voice shouted out:

            “LEAVE!”

            A seven foot woman who resembled a taller, ageless Liv Tyler in a blue dress stood before them. Her beauty was so beguiling they saluted her with full mast. Arwen snarled and then raised a nocked bow and arrow to them and that ugliness on the beautiful face snapped the spell and the fantasy fan looked at her.

            “Oh sweet Monkey Jesus, that’s Arwen Undomiel. Wait, Jackson’s can-“

            “She’s one of the ficers?”

            “Yes?”

            “Then let’s get the hell out of here!’

            Dropping Liv to the ground roughly they fled and Arwen simply picked Liv up effortlessly, her arm cradling Liv over her shoulder, hand massaging her ass gently, and then Liv had woken up on the couch again, with Arwen’s gentle kiss.

            Now…..now she was bound, over her own bed that she shared with her mistress, and Arwen’s gentle feathery touch was at work again, and her sister’s lips along her ass were adding to it. After that first time, Arwen exploited the simple loneliness at work with Liv and Mia to a point that she’d manipulated them into not accepting the incest so much as seeking the only human contact either was allowed. It was the same reason why bar nursing Liv saw so little of their baby, for she was all that Arwen had of her own kind.

            Understanding the potent might of loneliness in Arwen’s gaze and in her tender expressions did not grant absolution, nor acceptance on the parts of Liv and Mia. The knowledge that they had gone from that first time of incest to making it a daily habit, the more gentle manifestations full French kissing, the sharper ones still greater from that, that alone overshadowed and soured so much of the rest. As far as they knew, their families believed them dead. This was, unknown to them, precisely the case. Dave was not on trial for either of their murders, for nothing of human nature could have so neatly disintegrated the house, and for Steven, Chelsea, and the rest of their family, Liv’s two sons were all that was left of the vanished sisters.

            Then the Event had happened and New York had much starker priorities, not least among them surviving the various monsters and demons that had literally awoken and the rippling impact of witchery whose sudden visible empirical reality caused energies to blaze outward. The grief of the vanished Tyler sisters did not fade, but it scarred in the harsher realities of mere survival, and so they were not forgotten but something remembered in rare luxurious times.

            In the Cuyahoga Forest, the power of Arwen had become something out of her grandmother’s effects, not because she’d gained that power, but simply from the precision of her wielding it and her purity relative to the nightmares that had opened in and around Cleveland, where demons of various dimensions bubbled up and out. Strife ensued between vampires and various entities of Otherworldly nature and the needs of the creatures for prey ensured humanity could not merely So was the cruel irony that their gilded cage protected them from much worse things lost upon them, only the cruel reality of having gone from women of wealth and dysfunctional family to the sex slaves of a powerful magical Elf from another dimension who was all too real.

            They understood Arwen missed her world, they could not accept it, not when the Sun set and beneath the stars they were bound individually or together, their familial sisterly bond perverted into the terrible things that they were coerced into doing, it wasn’t so easy to forgive that. To forgive being compelled to kiss, to feel each other, to have their hands exploring each other’s bodies. Mia never wanted to know Liv that intimately, to know nipping on her in the right places would bring her to orgasm. Liv never remotely intimated or indicated that she’d ever wanted to, desired to, or had the least hint of being compelled to motorboat and toy with Mia’s ample tits, nor of thanking her sister afterward for giving her her tits to kiss and to mark as hers, nor hearing Mia moan her name with her eyes rolling and her hips rolling in such a deliberately erotic fashion.

            She’d been a normal woman with an abnormal family life, perhaps, but her and Mia had had a closeness she’d had with nobody else except her own mother and her other dad, and now all of that was marred forever by things like that, by her knowledge of every little thing that made Mia aroused, desiring her, knowing that she was Mia’s. She knew she had a submissive streak a mile wide, but never imagined Mia to be such a domme, which gave her a new appreciation for why Arwen humiliated her the way she did, as she recognized their immortal ageless mistress desired Mia debased to keep her potential rival from exploiting this potential trait.

            Three weeks later, in the bedroom, Mia had knelt at its edge and then her gaze had hardened and bored into Arwen’s own. All the resentments, the humiliations, the frustrations that she’d endured at the hands of Arwen and her lust for her sister that she’d been induced into getting by Arwen’s sorcery and recognition of where that had changed and how poured into a single cold order:

            “Kiss my ass, Arwen,”

            And Arwen, who knew all too well from her couplings with Aragorn and the Orc and the incest she’d indulged herself with her mother when they’d both been taken captive, though she’d managed to escape after those two hectic nights that she was as submissive as Liv, if not moreso, complied, crawling forward, and then giving Mia’s ass the best worship it had ever had.

            Mia’s gaze had changed then, looking at her, and had become quite predatory indeed.

            Liv, through the bond, reached out protectively to lower herself on top of Arwen in animalistic instinct that she could not understand and that both amazed and appalled Arwen at the same time, and Mia only felt her own wrath at everything intensify, her breathing carnosaur-heavy, her nostrils flaring widely and contracting, her jaw jutting and taught with not at all subtle or latent wrath within her. Her knuckles white, lips thin from being pressed together or extending outward with her jawline and a growl that was surprisingly deep for so curved and feminine a woman.

            She pushed Liv out of the way and pushed Arwen back, and told her sister “Get her paddle, sis.”

            Habituated to obeying the demands of Arwen and Mia alike, Liv dutifully complied, getting the paddle, like so many other things crafted by Arwen when Mia had the long hours and chores of keeping her niece happy and while Liv chirped out of fear for herself, her daughter, and Mia in that order of what could be if she did not. And with that, Mia lightly tapped the paddle into her left palm, wincing more than slightly and shaking her hand with a small yelp of “Ouch!” which led to Liv laughing with her soft and girly laugh and Arwen gulping in fear, Mia striding toward her and then raising the paddle and making sure Arwen’s eyes followed it.

            The astronomical pain that followed led to her passing out before the sixth hit and she woke up hours later feeling more sore and tender there than she’d ever felt in her entire life, and gingerly looked and felt. She whimpered, then cried freely but there was no blood. There were going to be hella uncomfortable bruises, but…..

            Mia then smiled with a carnivorous smile and tied Arwen’s hands to the bedposts, and left her there, taking her sister with her.

            “It’ll be all right, Sis. I think we can break this spell.”

            Liv pointed to the north, in the vague direction of Cleveland. Several columns of black smoke with burning red flame were visible from that far south, and she said:

            “Even if we break hers, can we break that?”

            Mia’s gazed hardened.

“No, I don’t think we can.” She frowned, biting her lip. “God fucking dammit! I wanted to get away from her so bad!’

            Liv held her sister, and both found themselves letting the tears flow freely.

            Mia hadn’t tied the knots firmly, having little experience with the power and lightness of Elven rope, and Arwen was able to free her right wrist and untie her left one. It was then that she felt a very old and powerful magic awakening anew, and she gulped in genuine fear. That……that was Ardan magic, but it was not her kind. It was that of the Ruinous Power of the North, the Great Enemy. How…..

            Arwen let herself up and walked with a bowlegged fashion, flushed, frustrated. Humiliated. That Mia woman had mastered her in the bedroom, and she stalked out, gingerly, hissing with each and every step, finally coming up to the two crying women, who relaxed in each other’s arms, something that touched her.

            Gazing at them, she looked down and then Mia’s eyes caught hers and that predatory gaze returned.

            Within a month of the sensation that had not faded, exactly, but seemed to have become more distant for a time, Arwen had to share her daughter with her mother and the child’s aunt. Now it was her turn at night to be the one bound, and to deal with the realities that having bound Liv did not erase all of the woman who had been, and that having claimed and marked utterly Mia did not make Mia Tallarico any less a fearfully mighty domme who seemed more terrifying than any woman of her world would have ever been.

            She’d made Mia more sex toys according to her specifications ,and where Mia was back to trying to reassert as much normal family relationship as possible with her sister, her gaze hardened as her eyes bored into Arwen’s, whose breathing was heavier, throatier. Mia smiled with that terrible grin that was that of the cat gazing at the canary, and knelt forward, her lips gently capturing Arwen’s, and then she’d smiled as the Elven rope, which was lighter but immeasurably and unimaginably strong, and potent to a degree so light a material should never have made feasible, into quite the devastating bullwhip.

            Cracking it over Arwen’s head never failed to make her gorgeous timeless face wince in caution, fear, arousal. When the whip descended on her back, her Elven frame healed and would never scar, but she still bled and the feeling of that was one of the means that both Mia and Liv used to exorcise their demons. Arwen’s will in the bedroom, never very strong, had crumbled entirely that first night, Mia and Liv forcing her to endure something she’d never imagined possible, and depriving her of her old power over them.

            Now, when Mia cracked it over her head, Mia smiled at those flinches and then ordered Liv to kneel between Arwen’s legs. Liv’s expert tongue went to work. Over time, from Arwen’s training, Liv knew every single detail of Arwen’s pussy and inner thighs, every place to stroke with her fingers, nip with her teeth, gum with her lip, stroke with her tongue., as she did Mia’s. And when Mia had taken over the role of control of their twisted new family life, she knew her sister’s favorite games, and went to work with this one eagerly. Submissive Liv may have been, but there was always that part of her that hated, that resented, that loathed having her son taken from her. And it was that part of her that eagerly toyed with Arwen’s body, kept the little whore from climaxing any time soon, left her flushed and gasping, her eyes rolling in her head, whining and whimpering and begging for a climax. Arwen had never imagined toying with her humans like this, but Mia, that clever devil with the sharp gaze, had tamed her utterly, totally.

            Nights like this could last for hours. The whip by her face, occasionally cracking on her cheek or her forehead when it missed, and Liv’s attentive fingers and tongue and teeth, hours upon hours upon hours. Flushed, panting, gasping. Broken. She was Mia’s, no longer the fair princess of Rivendell nor the Elf who’d enchanted her duplicate and gained one of her kind, the little baby who would mean so much to her as to all of them.

            Arwen Undomiel smiled even when the whip cracked near her face and spoke in that heavily accented English with intonations that were clearly non-human:

            “I love you!”

            Mia laughed coldly and cruelly. She would never be able to go home and she’d understood from literally starving herself for three days that her flesh had changed in indecipherable fashion, but this……a cold smile marked her triumph. After all the suffering, the degradation, the breaking of her family and its attendant traumas, she’d found a new family, and a new way to live. Arwen would writhe for another hour before she finally let Liv let the little whore cum in her mouth, then knelt beside her sister to share Arwen’s cum with her in a passionate kiss.

            Arwen sat up, hearing the booming footsteps of a giant outside her realm, and then she heard a voice audible outside her Girdle:

            I live. Long live Glaurung, Father of the Dragons!

            So that’s who I felt.

            Mia and Liv looked to Arwen.

            “Friend of yours?”

            No. I was right. Something else did follow me, or was born here.

            Then her eyes bored solidly into Mia’s.

            Mia, my darling, you hated me for isolating you in this place, and you tamed me like this because of it. What lurks outside there is why. Glaurung is restrained because whatever mortal was reshaped into that flesh does not know how to wield what he has only. I fled here because here, as harsh as it seems, you are guaranteed safety and a shield with people you can absolutely trust.

It was them that her gaze became sharper still.

When the fair Elleth becomes real, so do the things the Elleth feared that go bump in the night, or burn and scourge the world in fire and flame.

The cynical smile that crossed Arwen’s lips would never have crossed her lips in Arda, but she beckoned to Mia.

Come now, little Tallarico, you and your sister resume our games. We are only safe as long as the girdle holds, and you would not want our dear little Eldariel to suffer so terrible a world as this, hn?

Wide eyes met and Mia’s frown and narrow eyes were followed by a heavy sigh as she and Liv went to work on Arwen, whose smug smile faded for a few seconds as a shadow crossed her face, memories of fire and fury, of the unleashed might of dragons. And it was as Liv’s tongue worked her to a series of repetitive orgasms anew that it finally dawned on her that there had been a connection in timing that was no coincidence from when she’d sung into existence New Rivendell and the Event.

The fears awoken in her then did not disrupt her orgasms, and led her to grasp Liv that much more firmly. It was one thing to break a world. How could anyone, let alone the person who broke it, ever repair it?



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