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Gazlowe joins the Party

Rexxar’s peregrination are leading him to Ratchet where an old pal will help him, surely

A contract signed, stamped, and added to the pile. Then again, with another contract.

This one, however, had a recently added convention that looked like a potential trap, tying the Steamwheedle cartel closer to the Alliance.

Just a few lines, but long enough that he caught the lingo used by every goblin and yet assuredly coming from a human. Too much based on ‘cooperation’.

“Prolonged safe cooperation, including adjacent activities that might or may not have connections with the actual conflict,” said the contract.

Monte might have daubed his right eye due to the sheer wickedness; it’d be hell for Marin if he had not noticed it. Instead, he sighed, used his red pen to strike out the whole page, and then threw the contract aside, ready to go for another.

If luck had it, he would then have the entire afternoon to oversee Ratchet’s operations and make sure spies remained out of the way. If luck had it…

Knock! Knock!

Gazlowe’s ears dropped. His smirk at noticing the unfavorable contract was gone. He sighed, waiting, his finger tapping. But the knocking resumed.

Louder and more anxious.

“Sir! We need your expertise.”

“My expertise? Isn’t it what I’m doing here for Marin?” huffed Gazlowe, stretching his neck and arms.

“Your… Other sort of expertise.”

“Other sort?”

The other sort.

Not the contracts or wits, or leadership. More so, a talent to handle the kerfuffle the Horde had the tendency to throw at him or any goblins or anyone in Ratchet.

It usually included adventurers or overly zealous guards, or the merchants who’d gone drunk and wasted their entire accounts on more beer.

Alas, this time… That was truly different.

With his trusty assistant sticking up behind him, Gazlowe approached one old storehouse. Yet, even with the ocean breeze, Gazlowe’s nose was tickled by a scent. Primal, feral, masculine. The funk that sticks to your clothes after a long and tender night under the sheets.

However, they were far from any brothels, and Gazlowe frowned.

“What’s that?”

“The… issue, sir,” answered the meek Goblin, answering by offering Gazlowe a handkerchief. Gazlowe took it, covering his nose with the raw artificial lavender perfume, and watched his assistant adjust his backpack before they entered the mess that was.

Cum… Cum everywhere.

On the walls, on the nearest chairs, on the many shelves. Even on the sconces in a display that could have been impressive, if not worrisome. Followed weak moans, tracing the path, alongside the ejaculations, right to a nook in the storehouse.

There, a vision made Gazlowe’s eyebrow raise a little: a ‘Hozen’ was currently fingered and getting two fingers inserted in his orifice while his mouth was tending to… Rexxar.

It definitely was Rexxar with that pelt on. And even without it, there was little to do to recognize the Mok’nathal’s impressive build.

However, the Mok’nathal had one Hozen’s face pressed against and under his balls, licking out what seemed to be an orifice from the sound of suction.

Again, Gazlowe covered his nose.

“Rexxar? Is that you?” asked Gazlowe, taking another step.

“Rexxar…” mumbled the Mok’nathal, licking his saliva-covered lips. “Sees Gazlowe.”

“Oh, thanks the Sky.”

The voice wasn’t Rexxar’s or the assistant’s; it came from the Hozen who’d yanked his face out from below Rexxar’s balls. His brown fur was covered in juice and reeked of it. His brows were even drenched as he coughed and turned to the Goblin.

“You’ve gotta help me. Rexxar has been like this sinc- Hrmph!”

Rexxar’s hands landed on the ‘Hozen’s hips and yanked him up. Yet, one finger was playing with the present orifice; Rexxar was almost vindicated in teasing the ‘Hozen’. Something proven by his sizeable erection, by his cock that was… Definitely not normal.

It was as big as a leg, veiny, uncut… And if Rexxar had it before, Gazlowe had never seen it when he sent the young Mok’nathal on missions years ago. No, he even looked much bigger and more muscular than he’d been. Even now, those muscles throbbed with energy.

“Hey. Rexxar. Buddy. Put him down. That’s not a brothel here,” said Gazlowe, trying to get a word in edge-wise before coughing. Only then his assistant came in to offer him water.

“Must… Breed. Must… Share,” answered Rexxar while Gazlowe took a sip.

“Well. This is ratchet. We’re not in Booty Bay with all the freedom. Why won’t you take your Hozen friend elsewhere? Like further north.”

“He- won’t… LISTEN!” butted in the ‘Hozen’, crying when he was impaled on the Mok’nathal’s cock. Sure enough, the penis bulged through the exposed belly. But no signs of pain, only pleasure from the Hozen, whose cock shot through the air.

“Fu-Fuck.”

“Indeed. Buddy. Fuck,” nodded Gazlowe, watching that act of penetration. He could note that the Hozen had, despite his masculine features, another orifice where his taint would be. An orifice that was assuredly stuffed, fucked… And adding more to the sizable guts the Hozen had.

“What’s happening, Hozen? Why’s Rexxar suddenly… Like this?”

“I… I don’t know,” mumbled the Hozen, definitely fighting to keep his wits, especially with Rexxar holding him by the shoulder while humping and defiantly hitting the Hozen’s thighs with his sizeable nuts. “I… I wouldn’t… d-drink this, if I were you.”

Gazlowe’s eyebrow still raised, but he took another sip of water, feeling bothered.

“Why’s that, Hozen?”

“I’m… My name’s Nimbus. I- I’m not a Hozen,” groaned the definitely ape-like figure. “And… H-He came.”

Gazlowe eyed around, cocking an eyebrow.

“He… Came? Here?”

“Eve-Everywhere. Water… Treatment,” gargled the Hozen, reaching a peak because his own cock, downright massive for his lithe body, sprayed and almost hit Gazlowe if he hadn’t stepped aside. Then, the Hozen’s face relaxed, his mouth opening to suck on Rexxar’s fingers while the Mok’nathal was again pumping more inside his belly, stretching it.

“Water treatment? He came here?” asked Gazlowe, sniffing the bottle. “When did you get this?”

“I… Received it an hour ago. You always request it fresh,” answered the pusillanimous assistant. “Are you unwell?”

Unwell? Gazlowe wouldn’t say he felt unwell. But as he pressed his hand against his face, he could feel the clammy skin. He was sweating and not a little. His clothes were sticking to his body as he pulled on his jumpsuit.

It was warm and clammy, and himself… Well, he could feel something was indeed wrong. He turned and chugged the bottle away, looking at his assistant.

“Tell… Fuck. Tell the… Fuck. Tell Izzy to cut the water supplies?”

“Should I go?”

“Yes! Go!” shouted the Goblin, sending his assistant out by the same door. The poor sod might have looked like he’d seen a ghost due to his expression.

Meanwhile, Gazlowe sighed and reached for his forehead, massaging it.

He was… Not feeling great, good. He felt nauseous for a moment, his lips parched and smacking. Then, he turned to the duo. To the not-Hozen who was forced to suck on Rexxar’s tongue while getting his cunt fingered…

Under the Mok’nathal’s massive fingers, the orifice resisted little to unleash a tide of cum on the board floor, adding to the steamy and lustful ambience.

“Okay. I… I think I caught your thing. What… What will happen?”

It took a moment, but Nimbus peeled his mouth off and was again manhandled, then placed against Rexxar’s shaft, his arms wrapping around the oversized shaft.

“You’ll… End up like him.”

“Like him? A giant Orc-“

“No. Like… Horny,” explained the not-Hozen, his body rubbed against the shaft like a mere fucktoy, though he wasn’t exactly complaining. “It- It happened to the last three Night Elf outposts on our way.”

“Night Elf outposts? Where… What did you do?”

“I… Think Rexxar wanted to get to the city Orgrimmar. But he can’t find his way anymore. And… Fuck. We can’t h-elp!”

Rexxar was far from done. Again gripping the monkey, he had him upside down. The face presented to the dick, and the arms wrapped around the tip, Rexxar had the leisure of licking and kissing the Monkey’s taint.

A display that made Gazlowe flustered and even more affected. His… Body was warming up, and his clothes were feeling awfully tight, especially down the trousers. Trousers that were fighting against a nascent and already impressive bulge.

“Crap… I feel it,” said Gazlowe, reaching down his trousers, giving his cock a squeeze. Sure enough, he was dripping and practically shooting precum.

But worse, he could feel something tingling in his lower reaches. Down his posterior, yes. But between his legs, right to his taint. Like an itching crotch but worse, way worse, as he stumbled on his feet and landed on his ass, his legs spread.

It was then his pants, imported from Undermine, started to rip apart from the pressure. The underwear, silky and elven-made, endured it. But the blue fabric was ripping, torn apart by the sheer volume of Gazlowe’s erection.

An erection that appeared, in white spots, amidst the ripped blue fabric.

It was right at this moment Rexxar’s grunts and licking stopped, cut short as he looked up. Up to Gazlowe, to that dick. The Goblin kept an anxious expression as his dick throbbed inside his silky briefs.

Throb. And grow. Throb. And grow. Then…. With an expected outcome, Gazlowe’s green dick appeared in hues underneath the white before the underwear was ripped apart, and his cock sprang free.

A cock that was massive, but not only. In fact, it was so big it was almost bigger than the Goblin’s body, and its uncut tip already spewed and shot a whitish precum all over him.

Over his vest, over his chest, over his face.

In a daze, Monte Gazlowe was graced with the equivalent of a summer storm, though he was coughing and gargling, his fingers digging into the floorboard due to the sticky precum.

“My-! Groin!” roared Gazlowe, his back arcing as he sensed his taint getting drilled; it was worse than ever. Whatever it was, it made his eyes roll, his face contort and… His cock shot.

Shoot more and more, with that precum growing denser and stickier by the second, before, in an unexpected display for the Goblin, he ejaculated.

His mouth opened as his balls, now so large they covered his thighs and knees, were pulled by his muscles. In return, the intense shot, the flow of fluids, made the small Goblinoid tremble before his cock erupted. His urethra widened, and the jet came out… Hitting the ceiling first before it all landed on Gazlowe and his immediate surroundings.

Face, clothes, body, dignity. None were spared when the Goblin was stuck underneath a pearly white rain of his own making, fighting to snort the cum sticking to his nose or swallowing the heap of cum that got stuck in his mouth.

He coughed, gargled, and yet… In all this, there was something wrong. A silence.

Even the not-Hozen had stopped his moans and sucking. Rexxar?

“Small green… Fun…”

Stomps followed, then the cry of someone falling on the floor in a loud ‘ouch’.

“What… is… That magic?” asked Gazlowe, feeling dazed. He’d only drunk water, and that kind of transformation wasn’t something you’d do easily. Even the Noggenfogger Elixir wasn’t something you’d drink like that, and it damned hurt.

In comparison, this went so seamlessly… Except for his taint that was still getting drilled but was becoming far more bearable for the Goblin, who huffed… And had two massive hands grab him.

“Hey! Buddy! Let me go!” shouted Gazlowe, lifted off the ground.

He kicked, he thrashed. He spat, too. But as his eyes opened, he saw Rexxar’s mask and those eyes underneath, that focus. And then, that grin.

“Small green. Big green. Must breed,” said Rexxar. A sentence that made Gazlowe’s eyes widen.

“Hey! Not! Not breeding! I’m not into that!” he shouted, even though he couldn’t fight it, really. All thanks to the fact that his body dangled between Rexxar’s hands, down to his cock and balls that were hanging down heavily. His clothes had been partially ripped, but the cum-tainted fabric still clung to the small Goblin as he thrashed and looked around, then at the not-Hozen.

“Hey! Nimbus, right?! Convince him to stop!”

“I can’t,” replied Nimbus, shrugging.

“Why can’t you?!”

“Because he’s got a mind of his own. And now, he wants… You. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.”

“Well, I am worrying no-Hrmph!”

Gazlowe expected a lot of things in his life: war, conflict, dubious relationships with fellow Goblins, steamy and dangerous relationships. But not to be kissed by an Orc, by a half-Orc.

And yet, the Mok’nathal’s tongue went right inside his mouth, forcing down a flow of saliva that was much denser, sticky… And yet had a flavor reminiscent of… Kaja-cola?

A surprisingly good flavor for the Goblin as his face relaxed and his mouth opened, going then for that kiss. Well, more like a mouth invasion. But it had something that was intriguing and pleasant, even when Rexxar pulled him closer and yanked on the Goblin’s clothes, ripping them until a sharp icy sensation hit his taint.

There, Gazlowe snapped out of it and wiggled, kicked, before Rexxar pulled back.

“Must… breed.”

“What was that?” cried Gazlowe, trying to look over his shoulder at the not-Hozen, who had his hands behind his head. “My… Below my ass! Something’s hurting.”

“Your new vagina.”

“My new WHAT?!”

“Vagina! Enjoy motherhood!”

Gazlowe blinked, then turned to Rexxar, to the grinning Mok’nathal as he lowered Gazlowe. Of course, Monte kicked up a fuss and shouted as Rexxar himself sat, then reclined; there was something else. Rexxar wasn’t… Placing Gazlowe above his cock, to impale him. Rather, he used the Goblin like a toy, rubbing that green cock below the greasy and enormous balls, right to that taint.

Right to that vulva nestled between those muscular thighs. A pink orifice that not only gaped but oozed a sickly sweet liquid whose aroma tickled the Goblin’s wide nose. And made his heart pulse, his dick throb, and his balls ache.

He gasped, feeling his body was almost moving on its own when his hands landed on Rexxar’s thighs and legs, feeling the tree-trunk-like legs.

And then, he looked over his shoulder when he felt a fuzzy pressure in his back, with the not-Hozen’s belly pressed against the back of his head.

“Must breed.”

“You’d better breed him,” confirmed Nimbus, patting the Goblin’s shoulder. “Or else he’ll throw a tantrum and fuck you.”

“But… I’m not-“

“Give or take, you pick.”

Gazlowe gulped, watching Rexxar’s legs kick up and the Mok’nathal groan. He was growing impatient, acting up. But the moment Gazlowe rubbed his cocktip against that wide vulva, against that hole that looked to have been wrecked thoroughly, he calmed.

Something Gazlowe did by shaking his hips and then… By grabbing his shaft, though it felt like grabbing a pole instead of a dick.

His flesh was massive, pulsating, alive. The veins bulged obscenely, looking so oversized, and yet he wasn’t feeling that much lightheaded despite all the blood inside.

His cocktip, almost his head’s size, was at the cunt. Nearly… penetrating it, or receiving pecks from that orifice that closed up on his approach. On his touch. On his presence in an unnatural way.

“It won’t hurt?”

“It won’t,” confirmed Nimbus. And forced Nimbus.

Forced when the not-Hozen grabbed Gazlowe’s cock, too, and forced it inside.

The moment after, Gazlowe gargled and cried. His face contorted. He shouted to the ceiling and sky above, blinking while he felt his cock… embraced.

It was like a kiss, thorough and expanding. A suction, soft and lovely. A suave touch that went from his cocktip to the vulva’s edge. And yet, the moment that suction continued, the more Gazlowe was dragged forward.

His legs didn’t respond to him. They responded to the need that was now building up in his groin: breed.

That vulva was divine, pulling him closer and closer while the Mok’nathal groaned in delight and shouted his typical ‘BREED’ to the world. The inside walls were silky, utterly welcoming, asking more from Gazlowe as he advanced, feeding inch by inch into that hole that would not relinquish his presence. Even when the Goblin could finally reach Rexxar’s taint, or touch the labia that felt vacuum-sealed.

It wasn’t possible. It shouldn’t be possible. But it felt that way, and to Gazlowe’s mind, that was an otherworldly delight much better than any girl he’d shared his bed with once younger.

“Piece of… junk,” he mumbled, his eyes rolling from the suction that would not come off, even when he tried to pull with the last inches that were not stuck inside.

He'd reached a limit inside, what felt like a wall. Yet, that cunt kept tugging and tugging while Rexxar began to shake and cry and shout. Whatever it was, it was sobering.

But… The not-Hozen’s hands were on him, and… They were quick to explore his back, his posterior, his thighs.

“H-Hey. No- NO FUNNY BUSINESS!” cried Gazlowe, shouting when Nimbus lifted him, though lifting did little to affect the Goblin’s penetration, except that he was now dangling in the air and incapable of moving away if he so desired.

“No. It’s only monkey business,” answered Nimbus with a chuckle. And a thrust.

Gazlowe saw stars.

His vision was blinded, filled with static snows and other effects, as his mind couldn’t comprehend and take on all that was given to him. The pleasure from his cock was a first. His own body, shifting and changing, was another.

But Nimbus’ cock, full hilted into his cunt? Oh, that was… Something.

Only a few seconds later did the Goblin fully register a dick that was as big as his torso had plunged inside a hole he didn’t have before. And it felt great.

It felt exciting to have that cock throbbing inside him, bulging his guts until he looked bloated. He smiled, feeling the throb through his skin while the cock nudged parts of him he never had and never expected to.

But, by the Twisting Nether, that was overwhelmingly good. His mouth opened, with saliva dripping from his lips. His eyes rolled… And he ejaculated, again.

A long series of cumshots hit Rexxar’s cunt, making the Mok’nathal grunt and groan while Gazlowe was literally stuck between the two hulking and changed studs. Spit-roasted, almost.

“How does it feel?” asked Nimbus, his tone sheepish.

“Insanely… Good. Scrap,” swore Gazlowe, his hand rushing to his belly, and to feel the throb through. To feel that, already, some liquid was pumped inside him, filling him… Loosening his skin, bloating it. Bloating him.

Warm.

“It can even get better,” said Nimbus, pulling back slowly. A slow pull back that allowed Gazlowe to breathe more easily, certainly. But brought along a void that twisted in his guts. A famished hunger.

“Wh-What?” said Gazlowe, blinking and swallowing his saliva. Even gargling.

“Have you knotted someone’s cervix?”

“The… FUCK?!”

Well, that was a first experience for Gazlowe. An experience he could not have experienced if not for Rexxar and Nimbus. An experience that hinged on the fact that with his growth, his cock had widened. And his tip, his corona, was practically mushroom-shaped and proportionally much bigger than before.

A corona that, along with Gazlowe’s cocktip, passed through the wall he’d experienced before.

“BREED!” shouted Rexxar in answer to the impulse, truly taken by that penetration that went… Well, right into his cervix. A part of his anatomy that was untouched.

And that was then, Gazlowe understood Nimbus’ words.

That cervix was tight. Modified, even so, it was different from anything else. At that point, it could be compared to a sphincter. Something he was starting to understand and feel for himself when Nimbus’ cock kept nudging that entrance.

Rexxar’s cervix had closed on his cocktip, and it was now lovingly squeezing and massaging the overly sensitive tip. It squeezed, rubbed, pressed, and titillated.

And Gazlowe was in heaven. His tip was given the love it deserved. But Rexxar’s entire cunt was pressing on his dick, giving it a kingly treatment. Its warmth was driving Gazlowe insane. And driving him to cum, again. To shoot even if it’had been less than a few minutes since he’d been shooting. But just like logic and biology, refractory periods were gone in Gazlowe’s little world.

Much like pain. Leaving him drifting amidst a sea of pleasure and orgasms… And ejaculation, all thanks to that not-Hozen who was now pummeling his cunt, hitting and brutalizing the Goblin’s cervix.

A rough abuse that had the particularity, and the boon, to give some impulses on the Goblin’s dick. To rock Gazlowe and Rexxar’s bodies at once. To shake them down to their core while the two gargled and moaned… And certainly drooled all over themselves in that blissful state.

“Ah… he… Rarely lets me breed his cunt like that. Thanks for the help, pal,” said Nimbus, kissing Gazlowe’s head.

“No… Problem, pal,” slurred back Gazlowe, certainly too happy to fight back.

His balls were now constantly lifting and dropping, like someone lifting weights. Each time, it was for another tremor to go through the Goblin’s groin and his dick.

Each time, another shot hit Rexxar’s cunt and depths, drenching them in Goblin white.

“When… Will… It stopped?” he finally asked, his voice slurring.

“When everyone is spent.”

“Fuck,” groaned Gazlowe. Though he forgot to add a ‘yes’.

Yes, as after months and years of stress, of difficult relationships, of tensions with so many Goblin ladies… He was given a release much beyond his crazy expectations. His eyes rolled, his hips weakly humped. And though he wouldn’t have wanted to gain a cunt, he was firmly enjoying its perks when Nimbus passed through the cervix and doused his fiery guts with that not-Hozen cum.

“You’re… So tight,” groaned Nimbus, his face tense.

“So… Much,” moaned the Goblin, going cross-eyed. And then shouting.

Shouting when a leg pushed him. When that leg turned into a foot that smacked his face away and yanked him far from that boon of a cunt.

Even Nimbus dropped on his back from the impact, finishing to impale the Goblin on his dick and stretch that cervix.

However, in that daze of a moment, with Gazlowe still shooting over himself and going rounder, someone was back afoot.

Rexxar.

“Must… Breed,” groaned the Mok’nathal, his cock like a threatening mace as it swayed in front of him. It smacked Gazlowe, giving him a rough concussion before that organ was forced against the Goblin’s face.

And… Though Gazlowe’s nose was forced inside that urethra through its sheer size, the smell inside was far from being acrid like piss or anyone’s dick. It was… It smelled… It had that scent that drove him to open his mouth and give lick after lick upon that wide urethra while Nimbus held onto his hips and fucked his cunt.

In that change, Gazlowe was now forced to please another man with his mouth, something he’d never thought he’d do. And it was not only pleasing, but exciting as he gorged himself on that cum.

And felt… better. Old wounds and pain were erased. Aching articulations became history. Woes and doubts were cast away compared to the tempting cum flavor that was given to him: salty but not overbearing, sweet but not cloying, flavorful but not without complexity.

If anything could be better than gold, drinks, or even alcohol, Gazlowe was swallowing it and practically drowning in it. He snorted it, he gulped it, he swallowed it. And when the time came for Rexxar to grow dissatisfied, he yanked the Goblin’s head away.

But… He did not stop the coupling between Nimbus and Gazlowe.

Perhaps it was out of sympathy or something. But as Gazlowe gasped and rubbed his belly, stuffed on two ends by Rexxar and Nimbus, he was… Offered something.

“Scrap,” said the Goblin, his ears dropping as he observed the oversized, overgrown, and muscular Mok’nathal’s hips descend upon his erect dick.

Like a spear pointing up, it impaled Rexxar’s vulva in his descent. And when that squat ended, with the knees put at risk and the massive weight put in a precarious balance, Gazlowe smiled.

Rexxar smiled. And he pulled, leaving Gazlowe’s cock again alone and needy. Again craving such an exotic and incomparable hole.

“Wai-HRMPH!”

Gazlowe’s cries died in his mouth.

Rexxar had dropped his weight on that dick, once more. Rexxar had impaled himself. And Rexxar had the Goblin’s cock in such a firm grip, his labia were shaking on the foreskin while he pulled up and down.

As with his squats, Rexxar was… Pleasing himself, his hands going for his own cock he stroked while spraying cum all over Gazlowe.

A Gazlowe who swallowed it, unaware that through drinking that semen, he was tying himself to them.

With the gulps, his cunt was to ache and burn more. With the swallowing, his cock throbbed and grew in minor increments. With the consumption, he was… Getting high on the energy permeating the two’s bodies.

He wouldn’t have done that if he had known about the ruined outposts left in the two’s wake.

But he didn’t. And he was given something that was so good, so delightful, so freely… His nature was to take and take more.

He took. He fucked. He bred.

If Rexxar wanted to be bred so much, the addicted Goblin answered by fucking Rexxar, even going as far as riding that supple and oversized ass like a tiny fuckpest to stuff that cunt and ass.

If Nimbus needed a hole to stuff, it ended with Gazlowe riding the not-Hozen until the fuzzy nuts were aching and spent.

If he wanted to cum and stay blissful, his mouth would be as greedy as any goblin, his cunt as hungry as any businessman, and his cock as generous as a mogul.

In the end… Gazlowe’s face had fully contorted into that feral grin. It didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt as long as he was with the two of them. But that expression remained there even as he was dozing off on Rexxar’s belly alongside Nimbus, the two looking positively bloated atop that round gut.

They were in the middle of Ratchet. It was certain that everyone knew about Gazlowe’s actions, and his perverse display would be caught by every gazette from Kalimdor to the Eastern Kingdoms. Everyone, down to Undermine, would know what he’d done.

And so, when the word ‘Orgrimmar’ was uttered by Rexxar, the Goblin had an answer.

“I’ll take you there. Buddy. We’ll have fun.”