Chapter Two

Lorian scrambled backward across the dirt and grass, his delicate palms scraping against the uneven ground as he stared up at the big green beast blocking his path. The fat orc stood over the fallen prince with a curious grin on his wide face, his thick layers of blubber doing nothing to hide the dense muscle packed beneath his skin. The hide loincloth tied around the creature’s waist jutted outward, tenting as the thick cock underneath hardened at the sight of the beautiful elven woman trembling in the dirt. Lorian wanted to draw a sword and cleave the monster in half, but his hands grasped nothing but empty air, and his slender new fingers lacked the raw strength to even lift a longsword if he had one by his side.

“Stay back,” the transformed prince commanded, trying to project the masculine authority he had wielded his entire life. The voice that escaped his lips ruined the demand, sounding melodic and sweet, a feminine plea that only seemed to amuse the giant brute further. “I’m warning you, monster, you don’t want to take another step.”

“You look real purty,” Vorg rumbled as he wheezed, his eyes tracing the curves of the elf’s hips. “You come with Vorg now. Vorg keep you safe from the bad noises down there.”

Lorian realized negotiations were pointless with a creature that could barely string a simple sentence together. He stared at the giant green hands flexing hungrily and knew those thick fingers could snap his new bones like dry twigs. The prince looked down at his own body and suddenly despised the fragile hourglass figure Archmage Corvyn had cursed him with. The soft skin and swollen breasts made him a prime target for the monster’s primal lust. He had to run and rely on the natural agility of his new elven form to escape the ambush. If he reached the safety of the human borders of the nearest town, he might survive this nightmare.

The feminized blonde pushed his hands into the earth and shoved himself upright. He spun around and launched into a desperate sprint across the hilly terrain. His bare feet pounded the grass, his unaccustomed hips throwing off his stride as he struggled to keep his balance. The green top laced loosely across his chest offered no support, leaving his tender breasts to bounce and sway uncomfortably as he ran. The sensitive flesh ached from the rigorous, jarring motion, reminding him of his humiliating feminization with every step he took.

He expected to hear the loud thud of footsteps following close behind him, assuming the fat creature would give chase right away. When only silence answered his flight, Lorian risked a glance over his pale shoulder and saw an empty stretch of grass. The prince pushed his slender legs to carry him over the crest of the hill, relieved that the brute was seemingly too slow to catch a fleeing wood elf. He spotted a thick oak tree a few dozen yards ahead and darted behind its wide trunk, pressing his back against the rough bark so he could catch his breath in secret.

The royal closed his eyes and leaned against the wood, convinced he had outsmarted the dim-witted beast and turned his attention to finding the small trading town nearby before continuing his mission. A sudden rustle of leaves directly above him proved otherwise. Before Lorian could even turn his head to investigate the noise, a large green hand reached around the trunk and clamped down on the fabric covering his spine.

Lorian let out a startled yelp as the beast yanked backward, using brutal force to rip the top right off his torso. The laces snapped, and the torn material fluttered to the grass, leaving his upper body bare to the cool evening breeze. His firm tits spilled out into the open, the pink nipples tightening instantly as the chill hit his exposed flesh.

The prince twisted his hips and thrashed his slender arms, trying desperately to slip out of the creature’s reach. Vorg just let out a dopey chuckle from his hiding spot, dropping down to the ground and reaching for the waistband of the split skirt. With another effortless pull, the rough hands shredded the remaining garments, stripping the feminized royal naked in the wilderness. Panic seized Lorian as he felt the air against his bare ass and brand new pussy, realizing he had lost his only layer of modesty against the beast’s wandering eyes. His entire face flushed red with shame as he realized exactly what this oaf wanted with the fair-skinned elf.

He tried to dive forward into the tall grass, but Vorg threw his immense bulk forward and playfully tackled the elf from behind. The weight of the orc drove Lorian into the earth, pressing his soft breasts flat against the dirt and pinning his arms uselessly beneath his sides. Vorg straddled the captive’s pale thighs, his meaty hands roaming freely over the soft curves of Lorian’s bare waist, squeezing the smooth skin with an ignorant strength that bordered on painful.

Lorian arched his spine and kicked his legs, trying to buck the monster off and utilize the natural agility of his elven form. His body twisted with innate flexibility, but the brute simply shifted his bulk to counter the movement, trapping the captive beneath him. The loincloth dug into the cleft of Lorian’s bare ass, and the orc’s arousal sent a spike of fear through his mind as the hard cock ground against his skin.

“You mine now,” Vorg declared, ignoring the frantic squirming beneath him.

The beast wrapped his fingers around the back of Lorian’s neck and shoved his face down into the soil. The blonde tried to twist his head away to shout a final plea, but the forceful push drove his temple hard into a buried rock. A jolt of pain shot through his skull, sapping the fight from his limbs. His sight darkened as the sounds of his breaths faded into a dull ring, leaving the heat of the erection pressing against his ass as his final sensation before consciousness slipped away.

❖

A series of deep grunts echoed through the air as Lorian opened his eyes. The blurry world spun for a moment before the scenery sharpened into focus, revealing the passing dirt and wild grass moving steadily beneath him. He tried to shift his arms to push himself upright, but hemp rope bit deep into his pale wrists, sending a sharp sting across his skin. The captive kicked his legs in a sudden burst of panic and found his ankles bound just as tight, his limbs lashed firmly to a horizontal wooden pole.

Dread settled in his chest as he realized his vulnerable predicament. He opened his mouth to scream for help, but his tongue scraped against a rigid piece of wood. Rope secured the crude bit gag in place, tied in a knot behind his golden blonde hair. The fibers rubbed against the corners of his plump lips, forcing his mouth open and allowing a humiliating string of drool to pool and slip down his chin.

Lorian twisted his neck and realized he was tied face up, his back parallel to the earth while his head dangled backward to watch the ground pass by in a dizzying blur. Vorg carried the pole over a green shoulder, the orc marching forward in triumph. The bumpy ride sent jarring shocks through the elf’s agile frame, his breasts swaying with every footstep the beast took. The tender flesh ached from the constant bouncing. His outfit was long gone, leaving nothing to shield his pale complexion from the outdoor air. He tried to pull his knees together to cover his exposed pussy, but the tight bindings kept his legs immobile, offering the passing world an unobstructed view of his feminine sex.

“Mmmph nnngh!” Lorian protested, the wood stifling his furious demands into pathetic, muffled squeals.

“You awake now,” Vorg rumbled with a chuckle, shifting the timber on his shoulder to get a better grip. “We go to camp. You meet the others.”

The crude palisades of the Bracken Maw outpost came into view as the giant carried his prize out of the hills. The sprawling encampment consisted of ragged animal hide tents and mud huts built inside the perimeter. Dozens of savage greenskins bustled around the courtyard. The chatter of the tribe created a deafening roar that unnerved the feminized blonde. As a prince, Lorian had decapitated numerous orcs who had encroached on his territory. Humans viewed orcs as foul beasts who should be shot on sight, and the transformed royal feared what could happen to him if these monsters learned the truth.

As Vorg marched through the open gates, the surrounding noise began to die down. The nearest orcs dropped their tools and turned their faces toward the fat brute, their eyes locking onto the exquisite prize hanging from the pole. The sight of a pretty, naked wood elf entering their territory drew a crowd in seconds.

Lorian squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could summon a cloak to hide his exposed body from the leering savages. The stares burned into his skin, the warriors openly ogling this fresh Elven meat. The orcs abandoned their tasks, forming a tight gauntlet of green flesh for the captive to pass through. Their grunts turned into lewd jeers. Lorian could feel the heat radiating off their bodies. He tried to shrink inward, desperate to escape the gazes raking over his bare ass, but the suspended timber offered no refuge. He knew the moment he woke up that he was in serious trouble, but seeing these oafs and their unbridled lust for his new body made everything far more complicated. He was forced to suffer the degradation in silence, an unblemished virgin sacrifice paraded through a camp of leering imbeciles. He bit down on the rigid wood between his teeth, muffling out a protest as he was carried further inside the camp.

“Look what the fat one bring us,” one of the orcs grunted, stepping closer to the captive.

“She look fertile,” another beast added, wiping a dirty hand across his jaw as he stared hungrily at the elf’s splayed legs. “Where you find a naked elf bitch, Vorg?”

“I find her in the grass,” Vorg answered proudly, puffing out his wide chest as he marched through the forming crowd. “She run away from the fighting, but I catch her. She mine now.”

The mob followed closely behind the transformed captive, their lewd whispers creating a chorus of depravity. A bold orc reached out and trailed a fingernail down Lorian’s thigh toward his helpless crotch. Lorian shuddered, his body reacting to the fear and the overwhelming presence of aroused males. The digit scraped against his skin, tracing a path upward toward his exposed sex before Vorg swatted the arm away.

“Mmmph rrrgh!” Lorian shrieked around the bit, thrashing his bound limbs in a desperate attempt to kick the offending orcs away.

“Keep your hands off,” Vorg snapped, scowling at the other warriors. “I bring her to the chieftain. Krav decide what we do.”

The natural pheromones emitted by the elven species began to work their unseen magic on the gathering crowd of greenskins. As Vorg carried his captive deeper into the settlement, the surrounding brutes flared their nostrils and licked their lips. They couldn’t hide their reaction as they moved closer to the naked female.

The fat captor carried the pole toward the center of the large camp, ignoring the growing mob of horny savages trailing behind them. Lorian kept his face turned toward the sky, closing his eyes. He prayed that Garrick had managed to survive the ambush on the road, knowing his loyal protector was the best hope he had left to escape this nightmare. As Vorg stopped outside a towering tent constructed from leather and bone, Lorian braced himself for the warlord’s judgment, realizing his ordeal as a captive envoy had only just begun.

❖

Vorg pushed his way through the flap of the towering tent, carrying the wooden pole on his green shoulder. The dopey beast lifted the timber upward and slid the ends into two suspended rope loops dangling from the ceiling supports. Lorian let out a muffled grunt as the pole settled into place, leaving him hanging in the air. His back remained parallel to the dirt floor, his wrists and ankles bearing his weight as the rope tightened against his skin. His golden blonde hair flowed down while his breasts and feet faced the ceiling.

Chieftain Krav sat on a throne with two human skulls resting at the end of the armrests. The warlord possessed a muscular frame covered in battle scars that showed he had earned his way up the social ladder, his eyes staring intensely at the fat scout. A brutal survival of the fittest dictated orcish hierarchy, meaning Krav had to remain battle-tested and constantly ready to defend his position from challengers.

Two commanders stood flanking the warlord, their arms crossed over their chests. Garl wore a necklace of teeth, while Morz sported a missing ear.

“You return to camp without the others,” Krav stated, his deep voice carrying a dangerous edge that silenced the room. “Urzog and Fik send a runner ahead. They say you run away when the fighting starts.”

“I no run away,” the large orc argued, shifting his stance under the warlord’s glare. “I stay in the hills like Urzog tell me. Then I see something in the grass. I chase it down for you, Chieftain.”

Krav leaned forward on his throne, resting his elbows on his knees. “Urzog and Fik kill the human guards. They secure the cart. You leave your brothers to bleed while you play in the dirt.”

“I find a prize,” Vorg protested, pointing a thick finger up at the suspended captive. “I find an elf.”

Krav finally turned his attention to the naked woman hanging from the ceiling. The warlord stood up and walked closer. Garl and Morz followed their leader, their gazes locking onto the captive with undeniable hunger. Lorian struggled against the ropes. Not long ago, he was a pampered prince who could get any woman he wanted. Now he was a woman of an entirely different species being forced on display for a group of disgusting, barbaric orcs.

“Cut her down,” the chieftain ordered, gesturing toward the suspended timber.

Vorg drew a bone knife from his belt and sliced through the rope securing the captive’s ankles. The elf’s legs dropped toward the floor as the fat orc moved to slash the bindings on the pale wrists. Lorian immediately fell to the ground, a loud thwack echoing inside the shelter as he landed on his back. As he looked up, he saw the three orcs standing over him, prompting the blonde to roll onto his knees, ready to fight for his life.

Lorian reached up with his unbound hands and grasped the rope tied behind his head. He yanked the knot loose and pulled the foul piece of wood from his mouth, tossing the wet bit gag onto the dirt. He rubbed his sore jaw and stood as tall as his naked, slender frame allowed, crossing his arms over his chest to hide his breasts from the leering greenskins. He needed to play this smart and convince the warlord he posed no use to him around here.

“You have name, elf?” Krav asked, stopping a few feet away from the shivering captive.

“I’m Sylvi, Sir,” Lorian replied, using the false name the archmage had given him when he was first transformed. “I’m an envoy from the Arbor of Iryll. The humans you ambushed were an escort tasked with returning me to my homeland.” The blonde cringed as the soft, melodic voice purred out of his mouth. He glanced down, noticing one of the commanders shifting his stance to hide his growing arousal.

Krav let out a harsh laugh, the sound grating against the captive’s pointed ears. Garl and Morz joined in the amusement, chuckling as they stared at the naked blonde.

“You think orcs are stupid,” the leader said, his smile fading into a menacing scowl. “Humans hate elves. Elves shoot humans on sight. Humans do not provide escorts for pointy-eared bitches. They kill them or sell them.”

“It’s the truth,” Lorian pressed, dropping his arms to his sides. “The human King of Rosthorne wanted to open trade with the previous Queen Maevia,” the transformed prince continued, trying to sound as logical as possible. “The humans had captured me, and the king sent me back as a gesture of goodwill. I ask that you do not harm me, or the humans who were escorting me, or you will have both elf and man sieging your camp.”

“The human army bleeds on the road,” Krav mocked, pointing a thumb back toward the tent flap. “And the elven rangers stay in their trees. They do not care about one lost whore.”

Lorian felt a surge of panic and horror at the orc’s words. He feared that Garrick had bled out on the dirt road, or that Corvyn had been killed with the reversal potion still hidden inside his cloak, leaving the prince trapped in this female form forever.

The captured royal pushed those terrifying thoughts aside and focused on the immediate threat standing in front of him. He needed to buy time to figure out his next move.

“My life has value,” Lorian bargained, taking a step toward the chieftain. “Queen Maevia will pay for my safe return. Keep me alive and treat me well, and you will earn enough gold to feed your tribe for a year.”

Krav glared at the captive, his jaw clenching in irritation. “Elves do not speak in my presence unless I ask a question.”

“You need to listen to me,” Lorian argued back. “I’m offering you a chance to profit from this. You can trade me to Iryll and avoid a conflict.”

Krav clicked his fingers and let out an annoyed grunt. “I give one warning. You fail to listen, you knife-ear whore.”

Before the blonde could react, Morz stepped forward and grabbed his pale shoulders. The commander forced the naked prisoner down onto his knees on the ground. Lorian tried to pull away, but Garl moved in from the side and snatched the wet piece of wood from the ground. Garl grabbed a fistful of golden hair and yanked the elf’s head backward.

Lorian clamped his lips shut to resist the humiliation. Garl simply pinched the captive’s nose, cutting off his air supply. The prince held his breath, staring up at the grinning commanders while his lungs burned for oxygen. The need to breathe overrode his stubborn pride, forcing his sexy lips to part with a desperate gasp.

Garl shoved the bit between the elf’s teeth, pressing the timber deep. The commander tied the rope in a tight knot behind Lorian’s head. Morz released his grip, leaving the captive kneeling and silenced on the floor.

“You are a guest of the Bracken Maw now,” Krav stated, looking down at the gagged elf. “Guests do not make demands.”

“Mmmph rrrgh!” Lorian growled around the wood, glaring up at the warlord.

As Lorian knelt there, he noticed the two commanders shift their position, trying to hide their increasing lust. Female elves naturally emitted a pheromone that could only be picked up by male orcs. The effects naturally lowered the aggression of any orc in an elf’s vicinity, but that benefit came with a steep price. Their aggression was replaced by a natural warmth and lust for the elf, nurturing a dominant and possessive attribute in them. The longer they stayed around the elf, the more potent the effects became, and the pheromones had started to reel in the two commanders.

“She is a fine prize,” Garl grunted, licking his lips as he stepped closer to the kneeling captive. “Too fine for a fat coward.”

“Vorg is stupid,” Morz added, gripping the handle of his iron axe. “He does not know what to do with an elf. I claim her.”

“I find her,” Vorg shouted, stepping out of the shadows and placing his wide frame between the commanders and his captive. “She mine.”

“You run from a fight. You big stupid,” Garl snarled, shoving Vorg in the chest. “You earn nothing.”

Vorg shoved back, his dense muscles flexing as he prepared to defend his claim. Lorian watched the exchange in mute horror, clenching his teeth against the bit as he knelt in the dirt.

Krav recognized the escalating tension and stepped between his brawling subordinates.

“Enough,” the warlord commanded, striking Garl across the face with the back of his hand. “We do not kill each other over an elf whore.”

Morz rubbed his chin and glared at Vorg. “The fat one does not deserve her.”

Krav looked at the gagged blonde kneeling on the ground, his own loincloth tenting as the pheromones assaulted his senses. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to maintain order in his camp.

“I will decide what happens to the pointy-eared bitch,” the chieftain declared, staring down his commanders until they lowered their fists. “Maybe I sell her to Krax’s Anvil. Maybe I keep her in my tent. For now, Vorg found the prize. Vorg takes the prize.”

Garl spat on the dirt, clearly unhappy with the decision, but he stepped back to obey his chieftain.

“Take your elf,” Krav ordered, pointing a finger at Vorg. “Keep her in your hut. Keep her out of sight. If she causes trouble, I will cut your throat.”

Vorg nodded eagerly, a dopey smile returning to his wide face. He reached down and grabbed the rope tied behind Lorian’s head, using the gag as a makeshift handle. He hauled the captive up to his feet, ignoring the muffled squeal of pain escaping the elf’s lips. Lorian stumbled forward, his bare feet sliding against the dirt as the greenskin dragged him toward the tent flap, leaving the frustrated commanders behind to suffer their unsatisfied lust.

❖

Vorg pushed aside the flap of his tiny hut and stepped inside. He held a shiny iron chain in his thick green hand, giving it a firm tug to pull his naked captive out of the bustling camp courtyard. Lorian stumbled through the dirt entrance, a polished leather collar fastened tightly around his slender neck. The metal links of the leash rattled as the prince caught his balance, his bare feet shifting against the packed earth floor. The primitive shelter offered little more than a pile of animal furs acting as a bed and a thick wooden timber supporting the center of the slanted roof. It was a far cry from the grand tent the chieftain called his home.

Vorg walked over to the structural timber and wrapped the loose end of the chain around the wood. He secured the metal with a simple knot and a small padlock, tethering the royal to the center of the room like a disobedient animal. Lorian knelt on the ground and rubbed his sore jaw, finally free from the foul bit gag the commanders had forced between his lips earlier. He crossed his arms over his chest to shield his breasts from the chill of the hut, his long hair falling over his shoulders in a messy tangle. He watched the orc sit down on the pile of furs as he made himself comfortable.

“You okay, elf?” the orc asked, a smile spreading across his face as he stared at his captive innocently. “Garl and Morz mean to you, but I keep you safe.”

Lorian suppressed a scowl and maintained a neutral expression. He couldn’t risk upsetting this dim-witted beast when the alternative potentially meant being sold to Krax’s Anvil.

“I’m fine,” the prince replied, forcing his melodic, feminine voice to sound sweet and placating. “I appreciate you protecting me from those violent beasts, but you need to release me. You don’t realize what’s coming.”

Vorg shook his large head, his eyes locked on the fresh naked skin of the elf. “I no let you go. You stay with Vorg. You make the others respect me.”

Lorian raised an eyebrow. “The others won’t respect you,” the captive argued, leaning forward on his knees to engage the orc. “They think you are stupid. They’ll just try to take me from you again the moment you turn your back. If you let me walk out of this camp, I can make you a lot richer than this tribe ever will.”

“Orcs and elves hate each other,” Vorg explained, uncrossing his thick arms and planting his large feet on the ground. “Elves look down on us. They think we are dumb beasts who only know how to hit things. You think I stupid, but orcs are smarter than we look.”

Lorian scoffed internally at the ridiculous claim. He knew firsthand that greenskins possessed less intelligence than the village idiot, but contradicting the brute would gain him nothing but pain. The prince recognized an opportunity to stroke the creature’s fragile ego.

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” the blonde purred, uncrossing his arms and letting his hands rest on his pale thighs. He intentionally left his tits exposed, weaponizing his new anatomy to distract the oaf. If he could control what the orc was thinking, he would be out of here in no time, perhaps with his own protector. “I think you’re smart. You outsmarted those other orcs and kept me away from them. If you unlock this chain and let me help you, I can show everyone in this tribe just how smart you are.”

The flattery hit its mark. Vorg sat up straighter on his bed, puffing out his wide chest at the unexpected praise. A subtle flush spread across the greenskin’s face as the elven pheromones seeped into the enclosed space. The orc licked his lips and lowered his gaze to the smooth skin of Lorian’s stomach, his dark eyes trailing down to the exposed pussy resting between his thighs.

“You think Vorg is smart,” the orc repeated, a dopey grin stretching across his face.

“I do,” Lorian answered, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with the beast rather than staring at the growing bulge beneath the orc’s loincloth. “Unlock the collar, and we can show the rest of the camp what you are capable of.”

Vorg stood up from the furs, his thick legs flexing as he stepped toward the center of the hut. Lorian assumed his manipulation had worked and the gullible captor was coming to remove the chain. Instead, the brute walked past the captive and reached for a shelf built into the dirt wall. The orc picked up an iron pot and poured a gray, lumpy slop into a wooden bowl, the mixture sliding out in thick, unappealing chunks.

“You hungry,” the orc said, ignoring the plea for freedom. He stepped back and slid the bowl across the floor until it bumped against Lorian’s bare knees. “You eat now. It make you strong.”

Lorian stared down at the revolting sight of the lumpy paste sitting on the dirt floor, his stomach churning as he processed the creature’s command. The foul mixture looked akin to spoiled porridge mixed with god-knows-what, lacking any semblance of the fine roasted meats he enjoyed back at Rosthold Castle. He wanted to kick the wooden dish across the room and demand a proper meal fit for royalty, but he remembered his precarious position at the end of the iron chain. He could not afford to offend the beast while tethered to a pole, knowing his survival depended on keeping the green brute pliant and cooperative.

Satisfied that his captive was behaving, Vorg turned his back on the naked elf and walked over to the pile of animal furs. The thick muscles in his thighs flexed as he lowered his large frame onto the crude bed, resting his back against the slanted wall of the hut. The cloth covering his groin shifted as he stretched his legs out, doing little to conceal the hard cock pushing insistently against the leather fabric. The dumb beast crossed his arms over his chest and kept his eyes locked on the blonde, content to simply watch his new prize from the comfort of his makeshift throne.

“Thank you,” Lorian murmured, reaching out with his slender fingers to scoop a small portion of the gray paste into his palm. He brought the foul food to his lips and forced the gritty texture over his tongue, his throat tightening in revulsion as the vile taste coated his mouth. The royal fought the overwhelming urge to gag, closing his eyes and swallowing the disgusting meal in silence so he wouldn’t anger his captor. He took another reluctant handful and continued to eat, plotting every possible tactic to escape this horrific scenario and return to the human kingdom with his pride, or life, intact.

❖

Vorg lay back against the pile of furs, his meaty green cock out in the open as he stared at the young elf chained to the center pole. The orc had discarded his loincloth onto the dirt floor, leaving his imposing frame exposed while his thick hand wrapped around his own arousal. He pumped his fist up and down the hard shaft, letting out a series of frustrated grunts as he struggled to find release. The natural pheromones emitted by Lorian’s new elvish body saturated the enclosed space, driving the greenskin’s lust higher with each passing minute, yet his frantic strokes failed to bring him to a climax.

Lorian watched the beast stroke the leaking cock with profound disgust. The royal shifted his bare legs and plotted his escape from the foul camp. He knew his new feminine body lacked the strength to fight a huge, dumb orc, but Archmage Corvyn’s magic had gifted him with all the natural skills of an elf. The prince possessed incredible speed in his lithe legs, a natural advantage that could easily outpace the lumbering strides of the greenskins outside. If he could just get out of the iron tether holding him to the timber, he could dash through the entrance and disappear over the wall before the brutes even started to react. He just needed his dim-witted guard to unlock the padlock.

“You seem to be having trouble over there,” the prince purred, forcing his sweet voice to sound inviting rather than repulsed. “I can help you with your problem.”

Vorg paused his strokes, blinking at the captive in surprise. A dopey smile stretched across his wide face as a drop of green fluid spilled from the tip of his cock and landed on his thigh.

“You help Vorg?” the orc asked, shifting his bulk off the furs and planting his bare feet on the earth.

“I will,” the blonde lied, keeping his delicate hands resting on his pale thighs to appear submissive. “Unlock the chain, and I’ll show you what I can do.”

The brute eagerly crossed the room, his thick erection bouncing with every step he took. He reached the pole and fumbled with the metal lock, his large fingers turning the mechanism until a click echoed through the primitive shelter. The chain fell away from the collar, dropping into the dirt and freeing the captive from his restraints.

Lorian stared at the gross green cock hovering just inches from his face, his stomach turning at the repulsive sight of the leaking veins and the slick skin. The prince hesitated for a fraction of a second before pushing himself off the floor and bolting for the exit. He used his agile legs to dart past the fat captor in a desperate bid for freedom, his bare feet kicking up loose dirt as he closed the short distance to the hide flap.

He underestimated the monster’s reflexes. Vorg spun around, his large hands shooting out to grab Lorian’s bare shoulders before the elf could escape his reach. The orc’s fingers dug into the feminized royal’s pale skin, halting the flight in its tracks and forcing the captive backward.

“You offer to help,” Vorg scolded, his deep voice losing its innocent tone as he exerted his physical dominance. “Now you help.”

The greenskin pushed downward, forcing the struggling blonde firmly to his knees. Lorian clamped his mouth shut and turned his head, refusing to submit to the humiliation of orally pleasing the beast. Vorg grabbed a fistful of golden hair and yanked the captive’s head back, exposing the elf’s pretty face. The brute shoved the leaking cock directly against the soft cheek, smearing the wetness across the pale skin, but the prince refused to part his lips. He held his breath and glared up at his captor in defiance.

Vorg reached down and pinched Lorian’s nose, cutting off his air supply and waiting for biology to take over. Lorian struggled against the grip, his lungs burning for oxygen as the seconds dragged on. Elves could withstand a lack of oxygen longer than humans, but eventually they would succumb to the need for air. He parted his plump lips with a desperate gasp, and Vorg instantly seized the opportunity. The orc thrust his hips forward, driving the wet cock past the inviting lips and invading the open mouth.

The immense girth stretched Lorian’s jaws uncomfortably wide, pushing past the teeth and scraping against the tender tongue. The vile taste of the greenskin coated the elf’s palate, a sickening flavor that made him gag. Vorg kept a tight grip on the blonde hair, pulling the captive forward to swallow more of his hard shaft. The feminized prince raised his hands and pushed against the brute’s thighs, trying to halt the invasion, but his slender fingers found no purchase against the orc’s muscle. Vorg began to pump his hips back and forth, forcing the prince to endure a punishing pace as the cock slid in and out of the slick warmth of the mouth.

The unrelenting thrusts forced Lorian to adapt to the brutal treatment, his innate elven flexibility allowing his throat to open just enough to accommodate the size without tearing the delicate tissue. Tears welled in his eyes as he choked on the foul intrusion, his nasal passages struggling to draw in sufficient oxygen between each forceful plunge. Vorg grunted with escalating pleasure, slapping his green hips against the elf’s soft face with a degrading smack that echoed through the quiet hut. Lorian suffered the ultimate humiliation, a human prince reduced to servicing a filthy animal on his knees, his mouth used as nothing more than a wet hole for the captor’s foul satisfaction.

A deep roar erupted from Vorg’s chest as his climax approached. He drove his pelvis forward one final time, burying the shaft deep into the back of the elf’s throat and holding the captive firmly against his groin. Lorian gagged as a hot surge of orc cum blasted against his tonsils, the volume of the foul liquid threatening to drown him in an instant. The orc twitched and groaned, pumping more of his vile green load into the mouth until the sticky fluid overflowed past the prince’s lips.

“Swallow,” Vorg commanded, keeping his cock lodged firmly inside until Lorian forcefully gulped down the disgusting mess.

The prince’s throat muscles worked frantically to clear the blockage, swallowing the thick seed down into his stomach. He fought the urge to throw up all over the floor.

With the cock still resting inside Lorian’s mouth, the flap of the hut tore open. An armed orc stepped into the shelter, snapping Vorg out of his post-climax daze and making the brute loosen his grip on the elf’s blonde hair. The intruder grinned at the scene playing out on the floor before delivering his urgent message.

“Chieftain Krav want your presence,” the guest orc announced, his eyes lingering on the captive’s tear-streaked face. “Bring elf whore to the courtyard.”

Lorian pulled away as Vorg stepped back, the prince coughing and spitting the remaining seed onto the ground. A lingering dread washed over the captive as he caught his breath, wondering if Krav had finally decided his fate.

❖

Vorg marched through the sprawling outpost with the iron chain wrapped tight around his green fist. He kept the metal leash taut, forcing his naked prisoner to navigate the uneven paths winding between the crude tents and mud huts. The collar bit into Lorian’s neck with every sudden jerk of the tether, making the captive stumble as they moved deeper into the hostile territory. The foul taste of orc cum lingered on the elf’s tongue. He swallowed repeatedly to clear the sticky residue from his throat, shivering as the evening breeze brushed against his bare skin.

A strange heat blossomed deep within Lorian’s lower abdomen as he walked behind his captor. Moisture pooled between his thighs, and a steady trickle of slick fluid leaked from his pussy to run down his legs. The prince furrowed his brow, unable to understand the physiological betrayal taking place inside his new anatomy. He despised the greenskins and felt genuine terror at his captivity, yet his feminine body responded with an undeniable state of arousal.

The captive had no way of knowing that elven biology harbored a specific chemical reaction that every elf hated to admit. When a female elf ingests orc seed, the fluid acts as a potent trigger within her system. The swallowed cum forces the body into a state of intense physical readiness, bypassing the brain’s rational disgust to prepare the host for mating. The lingering taste of the captor worked like a drug, making Lorian flush with a humiliating wetness he could not control.

The procession through the settlement drew the immediate attention of the surrounding greenskins. Vorg led his pet past several roasting pits where animal carcasses spun on wooden spits, the crackling fires illuminating the dirt pathways. Dozens of orcs sat near the flames, staring at the tasty elf being led through the camp by the dumb oaf. As Lorian walked past the gatherings, the distinct scent radiating from the blonde drifted into the courtyard. The orcs abandoned their tasks and stood up, their eyes fixing on the bare ass and swaying tits of the captive. The men stared at the slickness shining on the elf’s inner thighs, their own arousal becoming evident as their cocks pushed outward against the fabric of their garments.

Vorg noticed the gathering crowd and grunted, jerking the chain to pull Lorian closer to his back. The dopey scout glared at his fellow warriors, silently warning them to keep their hands off his prize, but the mob trailed behind them anyway. The greenskins formed a procession of lustful brutes following the naked elf through the camp.

The captor stopped at the center of the courtyard, bringing the march to a halt. A dead oak tree stood in the middle of the dirt clearing, its barren branches stretching up into the sky. A metal cage hung suspended from a limb, swaying slightly as the wind pushed against the iron bars. Lorian looked up at the enclosure and gasped.

Lorian’s best friend and sworn sword, Garrick, sat inside the prison. The human knight lacked his armor and clothing, leaving his skin exposed to the elements and the jeering crowd. The mob surrounding the tree threw rocks and clumps of dirt at the swinging cage, laughing as the projectiles struck the metal bars and the prisoner inside. Garrick endured the torment in silence, refusing to give the monsters the satisfaction of a reaction. He gripped the iron bars with his bare hands as he stared down at the horde of greenskins.

The feminized prince scanned his protector’s form and noticed a strange device locked firmly over the man’s groin. The metal cage trapped Garrick’s cock and balls within iron pins, preventing any relief or movement. The contraption humiliated the proud warrior, rendering his dick useless in front of the boisterous orcs. The sight of his loyal friend stripped of his dignity filled the prince with despair.

Garrick turned his head and spotted the elf standing at the end of the leash. The knight’s eyes widened as he recognized the distinct facial features of the prince, realizing Lorian had been collared like a pet. Garrick was relieved his best friend was still alive, but distraught at the state the transformed man found himself in.

Chieftain Krav stepped out from the cheering crowd, raising a hand to silence the mob. The imposing orc walked toward Vorg and the collared elf, his gaze shifting between the blonde and the suspended human.

“You recognize the human,” Krav stated, pointing a finger at the cage. “My scouts tell me he rode up front with you. He fought to protect your cart. He swung a longsword and severed Urzog’s arm before my warriors knocked him unconscious.”

Lorian shuddered. He needed to protect their secrets from the leader at all costs. If they discovered that Lorian was actually a royal prince, they might just kill him on the spot for sport. He had to play this smart.

“He was an escort,” Lorian replied, keeping his voice steady and calm. “The human king hired mercenaries to ensure I reached my homeland safely.”

Krav paced around the captive, inspecting the leash and the collar before stopping directly in front of the blonde. The elven pheromones drifted over the warlord, but he possessed far more resistance than most.

“Mercenaries? Mercenaries know that they’re beat,” Krav pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. “This one fought like he had something to lose. He refused to surrender even when the cart burned. Does this man hold any significance to you, Sylvi?”

Lorian knew that if he admitted the truth, both of them would be in far more danger than if he kept the secret. The prince needed to feign indifference to save his friend, hoping the lie would convince the chieftain that the knight possessed no value to him. He figured the knight would be released once they realized they couldn’t gain anything from the tall man.

“No. He means nothing to me,” Lorian lied, projecting a cold detachment.

Krav stared at the pretty face of his captive, searching for any break in the elven facade. The warlord let out a dark chuckle and turned toward the dead oak tree.

“Then he is useless,” the chieftain declared, raising his voice so the entire mob could hear his judgment. “We do not feed useless mouths. Kill the human. We eat man flesh tonight.”

The surrounding orcs erupted into cheers, raising their weapons in the air to celebrate the decision. Two warriors stepped forward with iron axes, moving to cut the thick rope securing the metal cage to the branch.

Panic consumed the disguised prince at the thought of watching his most loyal friend die in front of him. He abandoned his detachment and lunged forward, reaching out to halt the executioners.

“Stop!” the prince yelled, his melodic voice cracking with sheer desperation. “Please!”

Vorg reacted instantly to the sudden movement. The captor yanked the chain backward, ripping the leash taut. The collar choked the air from Lorian’s throat, sweeping his feet out from under him. The sudden force drove the naked captive down onto his knees in the center of the courtyard. Lorian gagged and grabbed at his neck, coughing as the greenskin held the tether tight to keep him pinned to the earth.

Krav raised his hand, signaling the two executioners to halt their axes before they struck the rope. The chieftain turned around and walked slowly back to the kneeling elf. The courtyard fell silent as the warlord crouched down in front of the squirming captive. Krav reached out and ran his rough fingers along Lorian’s soft cheek.

“You say he mean nothing,” Krav whispered, his dark eyes locking onto the blonde’s terrified gaze. “But you yell for his life. Elves not do that for humans.”

The leader stood up and pointed a finger at the swinging prison.

“Elf start talking,” the leader commanded. “Or we eat human meat tonight.”

End of Chapter Two