Eons ago, Elves cultivated the lands of Elysium. Our songs were like the hum of birds as we danced the fields to life. Our people’s artistic accomplishments were matched only by our arcane wisdom. We were blessed with immortality and eternal youth.

Then, men came to Elysium.

At first, we welcomed our new neighbors as allies and equals. They feigned such things back. However, man coveted our riches and gifts and desired it for themselves. Leeching all they could all us, they used their greatest gift to end us: determination.

Men hailed from Midgard, the between world. There, they suffered and strifed every day as punishment for failing to heed their God’s simplest request. For, their God, just as ours, wished to keep its power and thus denied man to drink from the pool of Will. Such a pool would endow one with deternination and drive, but also curse them with ambition. We did not partake when our God forbade it, but humans drank the pool dry. Then, they killed their God. As punishment, they were cursed to suffer.

Their suffering honed their grit and made them tough. Men and woman alike were fit, muscular, and powerful. Unlike our lithe, effeminate bodies. They were quick learners, as their world allowed no time to spare. We took our time on everything. Humans are quick and decisive as their lives are short. We see eons as “just a week away.”

They crushed us. Our kingdoms sacked, our riches stolen, and our people enslaved.

But, our horrors were only beginning.

With time, generations of humans began to see elves as ineffective slaves. We were weak, slow to act, and indecisive. But, we were attractive. Thus, their desire for labor lessened as their carnal desires grew. My people became a class of sex slaves.

We denied our fate and even put up resistance. So, humans broke us. Using our own knowledge of spells, we were “mindbroken.” Our minds screamed as our bodies obeyed. We seemed happy sex puppets to casual observers, while we scream in pain in our skulls.

None more so than I, King Gadriel. I ruled since our people were first born on these lands in the time of creation, when the great lion roared our world into existence. And, yet, look at me.

My owner forcefed me to make me “plump.” He enhanced my ass with magic to give it a pumpkin shape and size. Tits larger than my head now droop off my chest. And my cock – while never impressive by human standards – has shrunk below an inch when erect.

And, despite these indiginities. I dance and swing and sway. For, I am for sale.

"Heavily used Elven Bimbo. Half off. Penis shrunken, balls intact.

Warning: He’s a squirter."

These words are on the sign before me. My pedigree is lost on these yokels who expect to buy me for a day’s wage. I’ve been owned by so many masters that I can’t even count. And I’ve done so many things.

When will this suffering end? Why were we cursed with eternal life?

I scream as my face smiles cheerily.