Her slimy tongue penetrated him.
“No,” Oliver said, deepening his voice to be more intimidating, but still sounding like a girl. “Jus’ no. I tell you no.”
“You be my pretty boy. Or pretty girl. You were touched by my cock. You mine now.”
Oliver recalled his trips to the market, waiting at the side of the road with his cart full of potatoes, waiting for the orc women to show up and order him to his knees, waiting for them to fill his holes with their thick cocks. A week ago, it was all he thought about. He couldn’t go to sleep unless he imagined them, or head towards the market without hoping they’d appear from the bushes and take off his clothes.
Then, he remembered he was Oliver the farm boy again and put all that out of his thoughts. Father hadn’t even noticed the changes to his body. In his clothes, he still looked like himself. He was a bit smaller, a bit smoother, but still Oliver. The farm was where his place was.
Her skin didn’t appear so green under the rain. She was far from the trees, far from safety. It was risky of her to approach him on the farm, so close to his father.
Oliver glanced at her cock and felt that familiar twist in his loins.
“My pretty girl should go back to the forest,” she told him. “I want a good fuck. I have a good cock. You like my cock. You like what it did to you.”
Oliver wasn’t surprised. It only confirmed his suspicion that the orcs’ cocks had something to do with his strange changes. Boys didn’t turn into girls, not normally. Orcs weren’t normal creatures. For a while, he had wanted nothing but that sweet, delicious cum of theirs. Regular food didn’t taste the same after he had tried it. There was so much, and they were so eager to give it to him. He didn’t even have to ask.
He looked at her cock again. It was a little bigger now.
“Pretty girl wants to sit on my pretty cock,” she said. “There be another pretty cock in the forest. Two pretty cocks. You like ‘em.”
Oliver shook his head. “No. Not no more.”
“Wasn’t asking.”
Lightning flashed again, and the orc woman grabbed him by the wrist, yanking him towards the trees. There was no sense in fighting it. She was too strong to be messed with. Perhaps a shout might’ve reached Father inside the house, but Oliver couldn’t imagine anything positive coming out of that. They were swallowed up by the forest.
The second orc woman had a fire going a little ways in, next to a tent-like structure made of twigs and sticks, with wide leaves to keep the rains out. Only her eyes moved when she saw them coming. The flames turned her body orange. Once again, Oliver was astounded by her odd beauty. He had dreamed of it so many times that he could see it even without the use of his eyes, but it wasn’t as good as gazing at her for real. Her eyes seemed to pierce the night, reflecting the flames.
The other pushed him down against the fire and went off a few more steps, staring into the woods. She looked around, watching the horizon that only seemed to get darker. A wolf howled in the distance.
“Were you followed?” the one by the fire asked.
“No. Pretty girl was alone.”
“Good.”
After making sure the perimeter wasn’t in any danger, the orc woman came back to the flames, back to the light like a shadow emerging and taking form, black forming into green, and then to orange. She looked at Oliver, at his face and his body and his ragged clothes, but mainly his face. Something had caught her attention.
“Who did that to pretty girl?”
Oliver touched his cheek. The spot just under his eye was sore. “Father. I was late. He don’t like it.”
“No one don’t touch my pretty girl,” she said, making her way past the flames and for the woods, in the direction of the farm.
“No!” the other said. “Morning. Not now. We stay with the girl. You know it. That’s how it’s done.”
The one standing snorted. Oliver didn’t like the look in her eyes. The orc women were beautiful and feminine in ways that he didn’t see in humans, but at that moment there was pure anger there, her face more like a beast’s than anything else, the tusks exposed and her nose scrunched up. Her eyes alone made Oliver shiver, the way he always did when Father went for the belt. He looked to the flames to calm himself.
“Pretty girl is hungry for tasty cocks. Are you, pretty girl? Remember our tasty cocks?”
Oliver pushed the images from his mind. He wouldn’t give in, not now, not again. They had done something to him the first time, the orc women and their cocks. He couldn’t control it. Back on the road, that hadn’t been him. A different Oliver had waited and allowed them to use his body as they pleased. He wanted nothing of it again, not their curvy green bodies or their large breasts or those cocks between their legs. They had mistaken him for someone else.
When he looked at the one standing, she had her cock in her hand. It was erect now, as thick as his forearm and bigger than any man’s. Oliver cursed the spark that went through his loins right then, but his mind was like a boulder rolling down a hillside. He suddenly hated the orc women more than ever, but he loved the taste of their juicy cum. He remembered the gooey texture of it, the abundance that had astounded him. At one point during that week, he had wanted nothing else other than their tasty cum.
“Pretty girl, have a taste of my pretty cock.”
As still as the trees that surrounded them, Oliver stared and gulped. They had him now. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t fight. He had looked at her cock for too long and now he couldn’t think of anything else. He wanted it between his lips, inside his ass, every hole it could possibly fit in. His loins erupted into a heat so intense that the flames would’ve been colder.
Oliver rose to his knees to greet the orc woman, to touch her fantastic cock with his lips and taste it again. He opened his mouth wide, and then it was inside him, throbbing and thick. Instantly, he regretted ever hating this. There was satisfaction to be on his knees, to service those who were bigger and stronger than him. In the forest, in the rain, he cared for nothing else. The farm was no longer in his mind.
He ran his tongue along it, sealing his lips tight and sucking. The orc woman seemed to like that, and it swelled even more inside his mouth. She moaned with a sort of grunt, thrusting her pelvis forward a little more. Oliver stretched his lips around the center of the massive shaft, ribbons of saliva rushing down the green surface of it. The head throbbed against the entrance to his throat.
This was more real than any dream, and Oliver shoved a hand down the front of his trousers, pleasing the orc woman while exploring his new female parts. He had neglected his slit. It was right to have it, and right for his fingers to touch it. With the wetness abundant, he pushed a finger inside, moaning on that thick cock. The inside was so slippery that it went all the way in, and more juice trickled out. He smelled the orc woman’s musk and his own female scent, a heavenly mixture that filled his nose.
They had alerted the other orc woman, and Oliver noticed the shadow of her standing behind him. Her hands came to his slender shoulders, and then to his waist, tracing the curve of his body that he so desperately tried to hide from everyone else. She grabbed him by the hips and lowered his trousers. Oliver continued fingering himself, occupied with the cock in his mouth. With a firm grip, she pressed herself against him, inserting her cock between his legs, finding his tight ass. The penetration was instant, and Oliver moaned again as she filled him completely, her warmth surrounding him.
“A very good girl,” she whispered into his ear, right before a thrust. “Very pretty girl. We like pretty girls like you. Pretty boys who become pretty girls. Do you like us?”
Oliver nodded, never releasing his lips from the other’s fat cock. He liked how they talked fondly of him, the “pretty girl” with his girlish body and girlish voice. Father never did that. Father only yelled at him to work faster. If not, he’d go get the belt. Oliver felt the sting in his mind, the lash of the belt striking his body, and winced. But the orc women were there, with the
ir big hands all over his body and their big cocks filling him. They didn’t want to harm him. They cherished his company and his body and his warmth. They only wanted the best for him.
He bounced his head innumerable times on the green cock, and the orc woman behind him fondled his breasts as she penetrated his ass. She was powerful, strong as a horse, bucking against him with relentless pace. Each time it went inside him, Oliver would feel it deep in his body, poking against his stomach from the other side. Her hardness made him squirm, and the taste of cock made him beg for more.
“Do you feel it?” the second whispered, the one fucking him. “Down here. Feel it, pretty girl.”
Oliver stopped touching himself. His fingers were trembling, each one wet with juice. The orc woman brought his hand to his own belly, a few inches above his crotch. She thrust into him again, pressing tight against his soft rear, filling him with the entire length of her cock. At the same time, he felt the hardness of it, the throbbing tip against his fingers. There were skin and flesh separating the two, but he felt it nonetheless, so deeply buried in his ass that it formed a little tent on his belly.
Then, she drew back, leaving him gasping for air. Suddenly weak and overwhelmed with pleasure, Oliver went limp into her arms, seeing stars though the night was cloudy and dark. He was weak and small compared to her, easily held with her large hands. She could use him however she pleased, and he could not fight it. He wouldn’t. He loved having her cock inside his ass.
“Pretty girl needs our tasty cocks,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Oliver agreed without a second thought. “I love your cocks.”
The orc woman stood, and Oliver’s feet left the ground. She handled him as if he were as light as a feather, twisting him with her big strong arms. He found himself looking up into her eyes, staring up at the sky. Her green body seemed to go on for eternity, with her large breasts and firm stomach. Her cock came into view, and Oliver eagerly took it into his mouth. Her musk was heavy and strong down here, and he felt her nuts squishing against his forehead. All the while, he stared into her eyes. Her grin widened around her tusks.
“Very nice, pretty girl,” he heard elsewhere.
Oliver heard a rip, and then the rain was coming down on his torso and legs. The other had torn his clothes off, but he didn’t care. The orc women didn’t need clothes, and neither did he. They were more beautiful without them.
Wetness touched his womanhood, and Oliver glanced down to see a head buried between his legs, her eyes appearing over his flat crotch. She didn’t waste any time in penetrating him with her tongue. It was long and slimy, and went deeper inside him than any of his fingers had. Oliver twisted hard as her lips brushed against a sensitive spot between his legs, but they both held him firm, one with his shoulders and the other his hips. They wouldn’t let him go.
They fucked him like that. The one with the long hair licked his womanhood and tasted his sweet juices before lowering him down to her cock. She didn’t aim for his ass. This time, Oliver felt her hardness enter his new opening, stretching him wide. He grimaced for a moment, squirming in their tight grasp. Her cock was massive and thicker than anything that had been in there, but Oliver didn’t want to tell her to stop. The orcs only wanted the pleasure of fucking him, and he wanted them to have it. The tighter it was, the better for her. He ignored the initial discomfort and went back to sucking on the other’s cock, knowing that a tasty treat was on its way.
Oliver ran his hands along his girl body, grasping his breasts, pinching the nipples. They were as hard as he had ever felt. He had hid them for so long, ignored them, and now he couldn’t do anything but play with them. With one orc woman fucking his face, and the other penetrating him between the legs, they were the only things he had control over. He held them as his body twisted between the two figures, pounded on both ends. Drool went over his cheeks, up his nostrils, into his eyes. The image of the orc woman blurred, but Oliver kept his lips dutifully around her hardness, accepting it, tasting every inch of it.
Shortly after, the night rains relented. Thunder rumbled in the distance, softly in the darkness. The orc women thrust hard one last time, and Oliver felt the rush of their seed into his body, exploding into his mouth, shooting into his new hole. They pumped him full of it, and he kept his lips tight, swallowing every bit of it down. He didn’t want it to end. It was thick and delicious, warming him from the inside out.
“Yes, pretty girl! Take it all! You want it all!”
They lowered him to the ground, and cum spewed out from both ends, for their cocks hadn’t been totally emptied yet. Oliver covered his mouth, keeping as much in as he could. He swallowed and swallowed and kept swallowing until there was not the tiniest drop left. After, he sucked the last little bit from the orc’s shrinking cock—though it was still anything but small. His belly ached, and his jaw hurt, but he didn’t care. He wanted to please her, to take all of her seed into his body. It was all he could do.
That’s who he was. He was Oliver the pretty girl, a fair young lass with a hole between his legs and an appetite for orc cum. They couldn’t say he was anything different. No one could. He wanted to serve them. The burning in his loins told him to. He wanted to serve them and suck them dry and have his womanhood filled with their cocks. He was theirs.
After a long night of sleep—and dreams of being used by the orc women for their own pleasure—Oliver woke to find himself alone. His two new friends had vanished. He didn’t see them anywhere. Only embers remained of the fire. The sun was already out and the sky was clear. Warmth touched his naked skin everywhere, but especially between his legs. Oliver twisted to his feet, fingering himself at the thought of getting fucked within the next five minutes.
“Hello?”
His voice was weak, but it carried far enough to be heard within a hundred meters. There was no response. He looked at the torn garments that had once been his clothes, ignored them, and set out in the only direction he knew—the way he had come. The night had been dark and rainy, but Oliver knew he was only a quick walk away from the farm. The orc women wouldn’t leave him for good, not after last night, not after fucking him like that. He didn’t want to believe they would. They were still close, still within range of his scent.
Still bleary-eyed and naked, Oliver stumbled through the final row of trees and out onto his father’s land. He spotted the unfinished fence from the night before, the one Father had yelled at him to finish even if it took him all night. The scar on his cheek hurt seeing that, and he rubbed it. It’d be there forever, a constant reminder.
Right then, Oliver heard a noise from the house. A pale shape stumbled through the front door, falling in a patch of mud, groaning. It crawled along the sticky soil like some rodent, clawing at the ground, trying to return to its feet but never quite finding its balance. More pathetic noises came from its mouth, frightful squeaks with poor assembly. It was trying to run away from something, something it kept turning its head on its fat neck around to look at. Oliver almost expected a large cat to jump out and pounce on it.
Instead, the door slammed open, and two green shapes came out into the sunlight. They were yelling at the naked creature, kicking it with their boots, ordering it around. One hit it on the cheek. The other stomped it back into the mud, forcing it off its hands and knees. It gave out a whimpering cry of defeat.
“You hurt pretty girl! My pretty girl!”
“Please!” it coughed, spitting out mud. “What is this?”
“Look at her! You hurt her!” The orc woman turned his head.
Their gazes met, and Oliver felt a shiver pass through him. He remembered again. He pictured the way Father would look at him. It was the same stare he gave him before retrieving the belt. Oliver heard the warning crack in his mind, and then felt the painful sting. He had disobeyed. He’d say he’d never disobey again. That’s what Father wanted to hear. Oliver didn’t want to feel the belt again.
The pale shape quivered, shaking its head. “Who is that?”
The orc woman hit him again. “My pretty girl you’ve hit!”
Oliver always hid his changed body around the house. He had to. Under trousers and a shirt, no one had to know. His face was smooth and a bit more feminine, but still Oliver’s. Father never noticed anything different. More often than not, he was passed out and stinking of alcohol. The money from the potatoes supported his drinking habit. And then Oliver would be whipped for not making more money for his drinks. It was all his fault somehow. He hadn’t sold enough potatoes. He had lowered the price too much. He couldn’t bargain.
Now he saw a naked girl, and Father had a different look in his eye, one of total nonrecognition. He was seeing a stranger. Oliver didn’t look like that, for Oliver was a boy and the figure that stood before him was clearly female.
The orc with the long hair circled him, kicking him with her boot. “Move! You best do it. You hurt my pretty girl. Is it potatoes you sell? You sell them at the town? Now you sell them for me.”
Oliver the farm boy would’ve run to help his father. The orc women were mistreating him, embarrassing him. The farm life was all he knew. He was there to help, to haul potatoes in his cart, and he needed Father to tell him to do it. He needed the orders, the instructions. He made a little money from it, not much, but enough to buy a new set of clothes every spring. He was supposed to listen to him.
But, Oliver the pretty girl only watched, frozen with a conflict of different emotions as the orc women laughed at the pale shape that crawled away like a whimpering animal, afraid to be beaten again by its owner. One of them had retrieved the cart and pulled it around to the front. It was more than halfway full with potatoes; the other Oliver was going to sell them today, take them to the market. They wouldn’t fetch much, and Father would get the belt again. It always happened.
“Pretty girl hauled your potatoes. Now you can.”
With a belt and rope, they fastened him to the cart like a horse to a carriage. After a strike to his shoulder, he went off up the road, running as fast as he could with the cart in tow, constantly looking back to see if they were following him. Oliver watched him until he was out of sight.
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