The Orcs’ Game [MM] [sadism] [Trans]

The misty morning air washed like rushing water over my nakedness as I sprinted madly through the wood, my heavy metal boots clanking with every step. I had been given no covering but the boots, and a series of bold red streaks of warpaint, to cover my shame, and I stood out like a virgin in a whorehouse. What was more, I was dreadfully tired. My captors had kept me up all the previous night in preparation for this day; the memories of their pleasure flooded back all at once, and I shuddered at the thought of what would befall me if I was caught.

My chest heaved with effort, and I staggered badly as my feet struck the rocks that littered the forest floor. Swearing silently, I picked up the pace, praying to every god and friendly spirit I knew of. The red paint that covered my body set like a bonfire against the green of the woods; I tried desperately to scrub it away, but try as I might it did not even smudge. Some profane alchemical concoction, or a spell of some kind, but it did not matter; the boots themselves, which were locked to my feet by a heavy iron padlock, and which were designed with tall thick heels that forced me up onto my toes like a deer, made enough noise to rouse an army of dead. Either contraption would be a curse on its own, but together they destroyed any hope of stealth. If I could only reach the edge of the forest, I might find a friendly settlement, might yet escape my fate. If I could only-

An invisible root cut my thoughts short, and I went flying unceremoniously down an embankment. My head cracked painfully against a rock at the bottom, and I cried out in pain and frustration. I tried immediately to stand, but fell, nearly vomiting, to my knees.
My head swam and pounded as though I were drunk, and through the haze I could gather only fleeting fragments of thoughts, cotton-mouthed voices, a shrill ringing that pierced the back of my skull, and this;

My nipples are *so hard.
*

It was true; they stood on end like daggers, and every gust of wind sent crackles of electricity down my spine. I’m not sure why I thought this; but in spite of myself, and my situation, I felt my manhood begin to swell with the sensation. The pounding grew even louder, and the scent of sweat and musk filled my lungs, and I vaguely understood that this was significant, and tried once more to stand.

I failed. An impossibly thick green hand, attached to an impossibly muscular green arm, gripped me by my long hair and shoved me down to my knees. Unthinking, I moaned, and before I could react my mouth was filled with an impossibly huge green cock.

The familiar feeling of meat against the back of my mouth broke my stupor, and I struggled in vain against my captor’s iron grip. I gazed with tear-filled eyes into the uncaring face of my assailant, and he laughed, a deep, cruel laugh, and began to mercilessly fuck my throat.

He was an orc. He stood at an impossible 8 feet tall, with broad shoulders and muscles like the marble vision of a god of war. He was dressed in naught but a leather belt, from which hung all manner of tool and weapon, and an animal-skin cloak which draped haphazardly over one shoulders, and did nothing to cover his chiseled earth-green chest. His face was twisted into a triumphant sneer beneath his braided beard, though this eventually broke into a look of intense concentration as he plundered my gaping maw. His prick was too massive to even bite down on; I choked and gagged with each thrust, but he cared not, rutting my head like a beast possessed. With each thrust, he sank deeper and deeper into my throat, until his enormous sack slapped viciously against my chin. A few days prior, I could never have withstood such a trial, but my short time spent with the monstrous warriors had loosened me up; I found my rhythm quickly, and my gags began to subside.

Shockingly, my own prick had not shrunk during this ordeal, but instead grew harder and fuller with each plunge of the raider’s cock. It was comparatively paltry, a mere 5 inches to my captor’s foot or more, but it stood proudly, thrusting defiantly forward, pre leaking from its tip and dripping down the underside of my torturously swollen shaft.

Suddenly, I felt the mighty prick pulse, heard the orc grunt, and nearly blew out my lungs as an enormous load of spunk flooded my raw throat. The beast shoved me away, his cock popping from my lips like a cork, and I immediately collapsed upon the ground and set about voiding my stomach of the vile fluid, hacking and coughing until I was fit to pass out.
“Aw, poor wee faggot can’t handle his drink,” sneered the orc, leering down at me, his towering form blotting out even the very sun. “Youer ancestors must be proud te have sired such a pretty little lass.”

I glared up at him, and he cackled and slapped his mighty hand across my face, knocking me into a puddle. “Stow that, sissy bitch,” he declared, “ye look far prettier with those lovely lips puckered up for a bit of orc meat.”
Out of nowhere, I felt two strong hands haul me to my feet, gripping me around my slender waist and tossing me forward like a sack of flour. My head whirled so fast I thought I’d snap my neck; behind me stood a second orc, shorter than the first, but covered in tattoos and metallic piercings. His face was full of them, rings and studs speared through his lips, nose and long pointed ears; further down, his dark nipples and belly glittered with polished metal, and even further down, his bulging cock (which, despite his stature, was no smaller than his comrade’s) hung with steel like a wind chime. I recognized this orc. Back in the camp, he’d been something of a plaything for the other monsters, happily giving of his toned arse to any creature who desired it. Today, however, it seemed it was his turn on top.

He approached me casually, unstrapping a flask of unknown content from his belt; I tried to scramble away, but the first orc kicked me viciously back, stroking his softened cock slowly back to full mast. “Pity ye wernae born a woman,” he said, chuckling, “for at least then he could have borne our spawn; but, ye make a decent cocksleeve anywea, an’ the alchemist’ll take care of ye’re looks.”

The smaller orc grabbed me by the legs, and I struggled once again in vain. Kneeling on my ankles to keep me still, he uncorked his flask and poured a cold, slimy liquid into my crack. I lay still, my face pressed into the dirt, tears smudging mud into my face.

He jammed two thumbs into my tight hole, and I cried out; massaging my entrance, stretching it slowly out, the beast steadily slid one finger after another into my hole, until four at once could fit. I was shocked at his tenderness, compared to the others at least; it seems his time at the bottom of the orc breeding pile had taught him some manners.

“Stick ye’re cock in a’ready,” declared the larger orc disdainfully. “Ye’re ruttin’ th’ whoreson, not proposin’ to ‘im.”

The smaller orc happily complied, rubbing his shaft between my cheeks, allowing me to feel the frigid metal against my skin before sinking with a groan into my flesh. At once, I was shocked to find myself feeling grateful to him. His ministrations had eased me well, and I accepted his manhood with only the slightest twinge of pain. He was certainly unique among orcs; most others simply slammed into me until they were finished, with no concern for my feelings. This was different; there was no pain, no anger in his movements, only a strange tentative tenderness, and it felt weird, felt almost… good?

“Cor, ‘s better’n goats an’ frogs, innit” he declared, his voice hoarse with excitement, and he began to smoothly pick up the pace. He was completely different than every other orc had been; his cock pushed against all the best places within me, and his cold metal piercings sent chills of pleasure racing along my spine every time they rubbed against my ring. My tiny prick, which had softened during my abuse, rose once again to full mast, and in spite of myself I began to moan softly, involuntarily pushing back against him.

“Would ye lookit that!” chortled the larger orc. “Lad’s a reg’ler ol’ snake charmer. But,” and he grabbed my hair once again, rubbing his shaft on my face, “T’ain’t the place of sissy little whores to make such noise.”

Once again I found my throat filled with the massive creature’s cock. This time he did not hold back, thrusting his terrible blade in to the hilt, and I heaved with the unexpected sensation. The scent of musk filled my nostrils, and my head went faint; what little token resistance I had mounted faltered, and I found myself caught between the powerful thrusts of the two glorious orcs. Their magnificence filled me completely; the smaller orc continued to assault my prostate, while the larger raided my mouth; the lady wind caressed the sensitive buds on my chest, and I was reminded of where I was.
The nearest friendly human camp was but a few short miles away, though I could expect no help from them; they feared the orcs. It was quite possible, however, that a hunter or a wanderer would cross this place and see me, covered in dirt and monster fluid, moaning like a bitch in heat as I was rutted by two of the mightiest creatures on the planet. Would they try to save me? Would they think I wanted to be saved?
Did I want to be saved?

All of a sudden, I felt the exotic cock of my small orcish companion ripped away from my hole, only to be replaced by an even larger, smoother cock. I looked around as best I could with a mouthful of orc; surrounding us, half hidden in the trees, was an entire party of orcs. Each was a different size and shape, and some had various distinguishing scars and markings, but all were enormous, rippling with untamed muscle, and all were naked, and nursing erections that put my withered clit to shame. They began to push forward, hands groping my sensitive tits, prying my arse cheeks apart to watch my lover work my hole; massive green dicks rubbing against my body, gripped within my hands, and I was stroking them, moaning as I pleasured my glorious masters, my dick spurting its inferior fluids onto the ground as my vicitors filled me with their semen. One after another, the beautiful cocks emptied themselves into me, and then again and again, until my stomach bulged with their emissions. I looked to my right and saw my companion, the smaller orc, in a similar situation; those who could find no room on my body went to him instead, yanking cruelly on his rings as these plunged their cocks into his depths, his mouth hanging open in ecstasy when not filled with dick, and I was jealous, horribly jealous of his barbaric piercings, I fantasized what it would feel like to feel them tugging at my flesh even as my masters raped me again and again.

I had lost track of time and my senses before long. The last thing I remember before sinking into oblivion was a flask of fiery liquid being forced up to my lips, and me drinking eagerly from it, before greedily accepting another cock.

I awoke a simple barbarian’s hut, feeling sore, terribly sore. My legs and arms ached from my misguided escape attempts, and my arse was still slimy with my masters’ seed. I reached down to stroke my throbbing erection, and found that I could not; my prick had been locked away from me, sealed within a tight leather bag, locked with a delicate silver lock. I stood, and found I was already dressed; my chest was wrapped in a tight sheer scarf, and my bound cock was, not covered, but accentuated by a white loincloth hanging from a silver chain. I tried to think about how the orcs could have gotten such a garment, but could not; my mind was hazy, as though filled with fog, and I found I could not ponder anything, neither my strange dress, nor my hair (which had grown strangely long seemingly overnight), nor my mysterious acceptance of my situation.

The only thing that stayed with me was…

*Cock.
*

I shivered and sprinted to the door. An orc stood outside, and handed me a flask of fluid, which burned my mouth as I drank it; I thanked him by worshipping his cock until he came, then ran further into the village.

My loincloth flowed behind me as I ran barefoot through the streets, and I blushed under the gaze of the many orcs like a newlywed bride. I found myself striding in a way that shook my arse pleasingly, and glowed with the whistles and catcalls as I passed.

Finally, I found who I was looking for. In the center of the village, orcish men and women feasted and rutted together, laughing and guzzling booze. At the far end of the square, I saw my master, the orc who had found me first, slamming his cock into the smaller submissive orc. I ran eagerly up to him, kneeling and suckling on his sack.

He ran his thick fingers through my hair as I worshipped him, his cocksleeve moaning even louder whenever I kissed his arse cheeks.

“Ye’re good lads,” mumbled my master, “an’ ye’ll be even better girls, wi’ a bit more drink.” With that, he erupted, and slid satisfied out of the orc-sissy’s hole. I leaped up to clean the gaping sleeve, then wiggled up onto my compatriot’s chest, wiggling my arse suggestively. Soon thereafter, my master took my suggestion.

For many days after that, I spent my waking hours in bliss. I would awaken with the imprint if my master’s cock inside my hole, and would fall asleep the same way. I never hungered, and I wanted for nothing, except to find new ways to please my masters. My hair grew long, my bones changed and reshaped themselves, until I was indistinguishable from a woman. My prick was eventually freed from its cage, not that it mattered since it was useless anyway. I spent my days and nights bouncing on cock, more cock than you can imagine, and giggling and moaning like a virgin every time. And I was happy.

And then you came along, and took me away. Can I go back to my masters now? Would you like me to suck you off first? You aren’t as good as they are, but I’ll do anything, *anything* for a taste of warm cock.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/6hykxu/the_orcs_game_mm_sadism_trans