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Twiggy’s Findings

How will the Priests react when they learn about Twiggy’s rebellious thoughts?

Twiggy ran.

Not away from danger, despite how he was running ragged and bending forward, his fists clenched. No, he ran towards it, his feet stomping on the fine soil, the cobblestone, then the tiles that formed the streets of Dazar’alor.

His mind raced, his heart thumped, and his palms were bleeding as his claws dug into them.

And of course, as he approached the gates, the guards were already there to intercept him.

“Halt!” shouted one Troll, a Zandalari troll with their typical blue eyes and bluish skin.

His stance was upright, but the nervousness as he held his spear made Twiggy tense up.

Tense up to the point the furry Drakkari, covered with a celeste blue coat, had his tail sweeping the floor.

He raised his hands, waiting to be stopped. No, worse. He expected the guard to grab him and incarcerate him. Then, it would be quite easy for Twiggy to be… Brought to the priests.

They would have him waiting, marinating in his fears and frustration, before they would come out as saviors. Or something.

Waiting, that was their thing.

“What's yer name?” asked the Troll, snarling.

“Twiggy.”

“What’s a temple worker doing outside?”

Twiggy blinked. He blinked, then looked down at his attire: purple and blue robes snug around his lanky body. Sure, he didn’t have all the gold like the other priests. But he had the robes as he sniffed, and looked at the jungle, mimicking an air of grandeur.

“I was communicating with the Loas. I am learning their ways to serve them.”

“Oh!” replied the Guard, his hard composure breaking away. “Ah! It’s priest business! Sorry, speaker! I humbly ask for repentance.”

The Guard even bowed, making Twiggy wince as he looked at it. That Guard was practically about to throw himself on the ground because he was afraid. Of him.

“It’s… It’s nothing! Let me pass. I am busy.”

“Sure! Sure!”

The Guard straightened up and smacked the butt of his spear on the ground, letting Twiggy pass. An action that was obviously mixed with a protocol the Drakkari Troll missed.

Still, he nodded and passed, putting his hands behind his back like the Priests usually did.

His heart still thumped, but once he was sure he was out of the Guard’s sight, he ran. He ran… He ran and finally noticed it, the eyes on him: the way the crowd observed him. How many shifted away, in fear, before the Drakkari’s path.

Not the Orcs or the potential visitors, only the Trolls, only the Zandalaris observed that practice as he continued to run… Toward the Pyramids.

And stopped. Recoiled. Turned.

The Priests… If Khaa’l were right, they wouldn’t listen to him. Or care about his feelings. They had plans for him. His clothes were a sign of it as they were worn for marriages.

He slowed… Stopped. And then turned.

The Guards eyed him, and the Zandalari observed him. Only then did he see a Troll. Not one of the forest trolls of the Horde, the Darkspears. It was another kind. Amani.

“Wait,” mumbled Twiggy, his mind racing and a smile creeping on his face as he ran to the Amani, grabbing the massive male by the wrists.

“Wh-“

“Tell me, where is the Terrace of the Speakers?”

Of course, the Amani was surprised. But after a few convincing words, and Twiggy leveraging his attire, the Amani guided him to the Terrace of the Speakers. A place where the Trolls representatives, or Speakers, were supposed to meet.

It was near the port, but Twiggy had never been there before. He’d never met anyone who represented those tribes before… And yet.

“I need your help against the priests! They’re planning to… Marry me or something!”

“Marry ye? What’s de big deal?” huffed the green-skinned Troll speaker. She yanked her arm away in disgust while pushing Twiggy aside. Likewise, most of the forest troll speakers recoiled or stepped aside as Twiggy turned to them.

“The problem is, I’m the last Drakkari! They want to do something to me! But I can’t face them alone!”

“De last Drakkari? Ah! Dat good! Remove da fluff and get out!” roared a blue-skinned Speaker, probably coming from the Eastern Kingdom.

“We already got de last Drakkari here! Get out before we call de captain!”

“Wait? What?”

Inside the room, surrounded by the Speakers standing near their totems, Twiggy tottered as if hit by the surprise. His eyes opened wide, and his tremors were visible as he tried not to fall any further. But failed. He dropped onto his posterior.

He was… He had been told he was the last Drakkari. For so long in his life, he’d been seen as an oddity, as the last of his kind after the Northrend campaign. He gulped.

“Where? Where is the last Drakkari then?”

“Da last Drakkari is here,” huffed a voice behind Twiggy.

Low. Gravely. Hoarse. It was the voice of someone beyond his age. A no-nonsense Troll, whose presence made the Speakers calm down and made Twiggy tremble as he turned his head while sitting down on the floor.

It was a Drakkari.

Deep blue skin, a long nose ending with a pinkish touch, similar to his head. His eyes were bright red, and his hair stood atop his head in a mohawk.

But he was old. Wrinkles were under his eyes, similar to bags. His smile was absent, his creases indicating a life of everlasting frustration. And he walked as if the world itself could collapse on him.

“What is this? Is this a joke?” huffed the old Troll, grabbing the tip of Twiggy’s ear to yank on it. “Why’s that fluffy thing asking about me?”

“Speaker Malaka’raz,” intervened the green-skinned Troll Twiggy had grabbed. “Dat one tells us he is Drakkari. De last Drakkari. And dat is impossible!”

“It…”

“Leave my ears!” roared Twiggy, almost clawing the old Troll’s hand off. But the old one had good reflexes and peeled away before blood was drawn.

However, his expression was tense, and he walked around the sitting Twiggy.

“Dat… Dat one is a Drakkari,” he finally said, his voice heavy. With frustration and… With a hint of passion. “I say that is true. What’s your name, runt? Who blessed ye? Rhunok? Har’koa?”

Twiggy huffed, dusting himself and his robes off.

“Who? I don’t know them. And… Who are you? Why have I never heard about you?”

“I… Only heard rumors about ye. A young Drakkari, blessed by de Loas. But ye…”

“I?” asked Twiggy, cocking an eyebrow and standing up.

“You are… Weak. A twig. Ye cannot endure de winter.”

“I can endure it well,” huffed Twiggy, puffing out his chest. “And who are you, old-“

“Here he is!”

“Crap.”

Ushi was here.

The one-eyed Zandalari was here. In his purple robes, he definitely looked like a priest at a ceremony. Despite his small stature, he entered the room with an authority that imposed silence.

“Twiggy! What’s that about? You abandoned Zinjo!” shouted the Priest, one arm behind him and one scrawny finger pointed at the furred Zandalari. Before the speaker, Malaka’raz interposed himself, his massive body squared.

“Ushi. Ye said dere were no Drakkaris but me,” said the old Troll, frowning.

“Well. Twiggy is a recent development. We found him and brought him back.”

“Ye never told me?” shouted the Troll, grabbing Twiggy by the arm and yanking him closer despite Twiggy hissing and trying to escape the grip. “Dat one is my kind!”

“And what? You cannot sire, so what good it be?” asked the Priest, grabbing Twiggy’s other arm. “We need Twiggy now for the breeding.”

“Dat Twiggy is Drakkari, dat one must-“

“TWIGGY WANTS TO BE LEFT ALONE!”

Twiggy roared and yanked on the two’s arms, liberating himself. However, everyone’s eyes went on him. And the Priest was quick to grip his wrist.

“Don’t touch me!”

“You come! Or else we use the guards!” shouted Ushi back, yanking Twiggy.

And… Twiggy shuddered. Ushi was right; he’d indeed forced the guards to carry Twiggy to the pyramids before. This would be no different.

“I… I’ll follow! But no holding!” hissed Twiggy, yanking his hand off.

Ushi watched that hand, then observed Twiggy’s robes, before he rolled his eyes: “Fine.”

“I come too.”

Twiggy and Ushi looked at the old Drakkari, who huffed: “He is ma people.”

“Fine,” repeated Ushi, his glassy eye, wounded, making him look dangerous.

Still, as the two Drakkaris stepped out of the House of the Fallen Tribes, they were quickly surrounded by the Temple Guards. Enough that Twiggy’s shoulder dropped, and he grumbled.

“Crap. Here goes my chance,” he mumbled, his tail sweeping the floor as they were already ascending the stairs to the temple.

However, they had to take it slow due to Malaka’raz’s slow walk.

“Come, Malaka’raz. Return. Ye’re useless. You can’t do anything.”

“Dat one is mine. I can’t leave, ye have it,” grumbled the elderly Troll.

“You have no chance. Let it go! The priests already decided you are out.”

Twiggy eyed one, and then the other; his brows lifted, and his frustration was visible.

The two were definitely talking about something he was missing. No arguing. The older Troll wanted to make something ‘right’, whereas the Priest was adamant it would fail.

“Ye can’t take me de chance with a Drakkari! I can smell de ripe sweetness!”

“Whoa!” shouted Twiggy, raising his hand. “First. I… I'm not a fruit. Even if you can smell it, somehow. Second…What are you talking about?”

He eyed Ushi, then the Speaker, even as the Speaker kept his head low and climbed, even passing by Twiggy and Ushi.

“Well?” asked Twiggy, glancing at the half-blind Priest, who smirked at the Speaker.

“Malaka’raz can’t help repopulating. He is weak.”

“I am not weak!” shouted the older Troll. “Yer females didn’t please me!”

Twiggy’s expression shifted. He watched the old Troll, bending under the weight of age, groaning… And he saw him with a mix of pity and disappointment.

“I don’t know what to say,” he grumbled, shaking his head and hiding his face in his hand.

“But don’t worry, ye can watch.”

“What?!”

After a few more steps and some muscled persuasion from the Guards, dragging and almost lifting Twiggy. The ravenous and clawing Twiggy was dropped inside his ‘room’. Well, if it were possible to say one room belonged to Twiggy in that temple.

Still, the hospitality wasn’t lost with the king-sized bed, the bath alcove filled with steamy water, or the different robes put at one's disposal.

Robes, much like the one Twiggy wore before the Temple Guards ripped them apart, stripped the Drakkari of his last ounce of modesty despite his shouts, his cries, and his tears.

He kicked, bit, even clawed…

In the end, the Drakkari was forced onto the bed, his limbs restrained by the Temple Guards while Ushi smirked… And Malaka’raz watched with a mix of apprehension.

Apprehension and hope as the red eyes were watching Twiggy’s shame and ‘pride’ at the same time: whereas a male troll would have male genitals, from the testicles to a penis, the furry Drakkari had been… Given something else.

He’d been aware of his difference ever since he was of age to speak and understand what he was told. But it was a difference he didn’t want to divulge.

A vulva, the labia open thanks to his spread legs, he never wanted to divulge unless it was for someone he desired.

Instead, a slew of guards, an old priest, and an elderly Drakkari were watching his cunt being exposed. Watched the pink folds strike a stark contrast compared to the celeste blue fur. And the entrance had that sweet ripe smell that titillated the Drakkari’s nose and only him.

“I… yeah. Dat one is ready for a breeding. A Drakkari should do this,” said the Elderly, his voice low and yet powerful.

“A Drakkari? Ah! No can do,” huffed Ushi, rolling his eyes. “We already have the perfect candidate. Zinjo.”

“FUCKING ZINJO? HE’S MORE STUPID THAN ROCKS!”

“He is strong. Loyal. Doesn’t ask. And he is almost ready for the breeding ritual,” said Ushi, biting his lips and passing his hands in front of his robes. “But… We can do more.”

“More?” cried Twiggy. He roared, too, before a ball of leather was stuffed in his mouth. “HRMPHH! GHNHH!”

“You wouldn’t dare,” said Malaka’raz, irate. “De breeding is a ritual.”

“I won’t breed him,” replied the Priest, reaching for his buckle and undoing it, letting his robe open to reveal his lanky body with the scars covering his skin… Right down to his hairless groin and his… Absurdly massive genitals. “But we can use the other holes.”

He chuckled. So did the Temple Guards, as they were stiff, too. Their groins were bulging, their needs clear as they looked at one another and nodded. Some were busy holding Twiggy. But for the few others, they were wiping their dicks out. Dicks that were either massive, steamy, or slightly glimmering, covered in grease.

Cocks, they were stroking as Ushi approached, his robes dropping from his body to reveal that body… He stroked the inside of Twiggy’s thighs, stroking the fur onto them.

“Ye shouldn’t!” roared Malaka’raz, only for a Guard to hold him by the shoulders, stopping the elderly Troll from approaching.

“Shouldn’t? Like how you people shouldn’t have killed their Loas and drunk their mojos?” scoffed Ushi, rolling his eyes and shoulders. His fingers crept closer. “We had faith in the Drakkaris to handle the cold king. Yet, you betrayed your kin, your Loas, drank their blood and then begged for our help when we couldn’t. Yet, you raved about how it was our fault. Was it our fault you wasted the chances we gave?”

Ushi’s fingers definitely crept closer to Twiggy’s groin. They explored the fluff on the thighs, stroked them before the mere touch was enough to send shivers through the Drakkari’s cunt… Through the labia, which were slightly pulled by the constant stroking.

“Look at that. Twiggy is already agape but you couldn’t do shit,” said Ushi, biting his lips.

“HRMPH”!

Twiggy’s cries were still muffled. But his eyes, bright yellow, were bulging. If looks could kill, he would have murdered everyone. But no. He was impotent, held against his will. And his cunt, his vulva that had betrayed him by its nature, was betraying him again.

It burned and ached. But the more Ushi touched and stroked it, the better it felt. It felt good to have those digits brushing his labia, to sense the slight pull on the flesh… And the approach on his hooded clit, on that erect nub that was wet and needy.

“I will tell de others!”

“Then… Bet.”

Twiggy’s ears dropped while Malaka’raz raised. Similarly to his brows. The Speaker was released and pushed forward before the Temple Guard raised a dagger and… Cut through the clothes the Speaker wore.

The sound of shredded fabric didn’t deter Twiggy from his own humiliation. But it was different to see that frail old Troll, with wrinkled skin, being exposed like that. Sure enough, there were traces of his previous strength. But much like for any troll, the ages weren’t kind to Malaka’raz. His skin slightly dangled off his arms, but his shoulders were broad and his belly thin. He was weakened but not… Outright weak.

And his genitals, covered with a blue fuzz, were definitely not to scoff at. His cock was particularly long, and his testicles, in his loose scrotum, were swaying with each step.

He was hairy, but his testicles had been recently shaved, the hair unruly on the blue skin.

“Ushi! Ye are like de scourge!” huffed Malaka’raz, his cock throbbing but still pointing down. He was only half-hard, and the cock’s own weight pulled it down.

Yet, Ushi wasn’t bothered by the insult as he reached for Twiggy’s cunt, inserting one finger inside despite the roaring Drakkari… And hooked on the moist and welcoming flesh to reveal the reddish inside. To let Malaka’raz admire that ripe cunt with a sweetened aroma.

“I am helping you, Malaka’raz,” huffed Ushi, his own cock hard and dripping…. Much like those that were spraying precum over Twiggy’s cock. “Get us an hourglass.”

Malaka’raz’s fuming attitude was met with Twiggy, especially as the Youngest was manhandled, forced to kneel… Before being dragged on the floor, right in front of Malaka’raz’s groin. In front of that cock that remained soft. And those fuzzy nuts, the whole deal musky.

Then, Ushi raised an hourglass, something too small to last more than five minutes.

“If ye can get hard before the last sand drops, ye get Twiggy. If not… Ye forfeit everything.”

“Ye… Is that a lie?”

Ushi recoiled, putting a sticky hand on his chest. “No. I swear on de Loas.”

“If you swear.”

The Speaker’s voice was lower, full of intent. And fear. His eyes, red, met with Twiggy as he reached for his cock. As he grabbed his own shaft with a purpose, his teeth dug into his lips.

“I am doing it for our people,” said the Speaker, almost as an apology to Twiggy.

His fingers, calloused and rough, grabbed his shaft to pull on it. He pulled on the flesh, pulled on the foreskin to unveil the purple cocktip that was definitely musky.

The Drakkari was certainly bothered, his eyes going on all the participants around, to the naked Guards to those holding Twiggy… And then to Ushi, who grinned.

“Ye… Better not lie,” huffed the Speaker, giving his own cock some large strokes, even going with two hands to steady his shaft.

“I am a priest. No lie,” replied Ushi.

His confidence, his rogue attitude, was firm as he gazed at Malaka’raz’s cock. He watched that organ as it was stroked, pulled, yanked, and rubbed. But whose mast wasn’t coming.

No. The flesh remained half-hard. Throbbing and alive, yes. But unable to do more. Unable to reach its full size. Perhaps it was an issue due to fear of being watched by everyone. Or perhaps it was from age. Or it could have been anything.

Nevertheless, Twiggy frowned and yet watched the old Drakkari stroking himself to the point of constantly smacking his wrist against his lower belly, with all the strength he could. But that cock wouldn’t get hard.

Ushi huffed and rolled his eyes, definitely disappointed and decidedly not seeing the old Drakkari as worth it. But as he held the hourglass, as he was counting the last grains of sand dropping… The Drakkari’s expression was of abject fear.

“I can do it!” shouted Malaka’raz, his voice ragged.

“Too bad. The Loas don’t will it,” said Ushi, presenting the Hourglass before the Troll’s eyes. “You lost. Ye know what happened.”

“Hmph?”

Twiggy’s eyebrows lifted before he tried to kick and fight against the Temple Guards, but he was lifted, then put back on the bed, but on his belly. One hand pinned his chest against the mattress while the other hand grabbed his thighs, lifting them. That way, everyone had a view of the Drakkari’s asshole and his cunt, drippy and wide as it was.

“You saw it. You heard him. He forfeited it.”

“Wait! I- I can do it! Ushi!”

“That’s too late!”

Twiggy raised an eyebrow as he heard the Speaker shout and fight. But there were too many Guards, too many Trolls capable of holding the Speaker as he was opposing something.

Twiggy would have helped him… But bound, he could only endure Ushi’s touch on his cunt, the touch that stroked his insides before the fingers scissored and finally… Opened his cunt wide, forcing the entrance to drip all over the mattress.

Moreover, the free Temple Guards were now rubbing their dicks against Twiggy’s face, coating his furry face with precum and sometimes cum while they chuckled and spoke in Zandalari between them.

The exchange went right over Twiggy’s head. But not the sensation of something warm. And wide. And sticky being pressed against Twiggy’s virgin butthole.

“Ah… You can still watch, Malaka’raz. And taste it. Wanna do that?” asked Ushi, as his cock danced and pressed against Twiggy’s hole. “You don’t want? Shame!”

The Priest laughed and roared, more so as his cock was making Twiggy wince and whine, his ears dropping in fear and pain.

“We had plans for your people, to build them back together. You wasted it, Malaka’raz. You wasted your chance. But we don’t,” said the Priest as his push became more insistent.

Twiggy’s breathing was going ragged and intense, his nostrils dilating as the pressure on his asshole kept growing. He felt some of the precum ooze through his rim, going into his passage. But… He tried to close his legs, to close that entrance, solely for the Guard to yank his leg open once more. Leaving him… No freedom.

With no possibility to protect himself as Ushi pulled back. Only to thrust. And penetrate him.

“HMPHHH!” cried Twiggy, his eyes going bloodshot. He opened his hands, trying to claw at any bastards around. But he couldn’t. He didn’t have the reach or the strength.

Yet, the cock, that humongous and large cock, was going deeper. And deeper.

It felt like there was no end to it for Twiggy. His asshole was aching and burning. His back entrance, never used before, was stretched by something closer to his forearm. And though the old Priest could offer gentle words and be tender, Ushi was gloating and laughing.

“See, that’s what you missed! Speaker!” roared Ushi, displaying his complete disregard for the Drakkari’s well-being. A shuffle echoed behind Twiggy, but…. As he tried to look, he couldn’t see.

Not when a Guard grabbed him by the head, brushing his uncovered tip on the Drakkari’s nose and brows, smearing precum all over it. Some dripped over Twiggy’s eyelids.

Eyelids, he had to close, protecting himself from the dripping… And the cumshot hitting him in the face.

“HMPH!” he cried again, his chest dropping and then lifting again while he tried to cry, to voice his displeasure. Anyone, even a servant, should enter the room and warn the others.

But none was coming, and the lecherous Guards were licking their lips, grinning, huffing, or even kissing one another with their tusks meeting.

Twiggy shook his head and-

SMACK!

The burn was intense on the Drakkari’s posterior, akin to a burn… No. Akin to a flogging, though it had to be Ushi’s hand. The same hand that delivered another smack… And another, while he happily pumped inside Twiggy’s asshole.

It was to abuse the Troll. At the same time, its second purpose was for Twiggy’s asshole to clench further, to tug on the Priest’s dick… And for the Priest to smile and grin. To… Chuckle as he was pumping faster and deeper into Twiggy’s ass.

“If… That wasn’t for Zinjo. I’d be cunting you, Twiggy. Ye are a pest, and if the Loas weren’t protecting your lesser asses. We’d be culling you.”

Twiggy’s eyes opened wide despite the semen. His mouth contorted in rage and frustration… Before the pain from another smack made him wince until… He could finally see something. On his left, the Speaker stood.

He wasn’t alone, though. One of the Temple Guard was furiously masturbating the old Troll, who fought and tried to push the Guard away. But bound and limited like Twiggy, the Speaker had to endure the masturbation, the pulls that were so savage and brutal…

While a golden weight pulled down his testicles. No… It was worse. A ritual band had been passed around the Troll’s testicles, pulling them down. But much like the Fel as it infected someone’s body, Twiggy saw veins of gold stretch under the blue skin.

Malaka’raz, too, was gagged, but his expression was marked by pain and suffering.

“You don’t worry… I’ll have Twiggy use your tool, Malaka’raz,” laughed Ushi.

Twiggy’s heart beat faster, his mind racing with fear as he watched that abject display. One that wasn’t stopping as the Troll’s ass was getting pummeled faster and faster… until a groan came behind him and Ushi delivered a slew of hits before he pulled out.

Followed then that disgusting sensation of cum oozing through his asshole, of air rushing inside, and of that fluid dripping over the Troll’s taint right to his cunt before it dripped down.

“Ye… Deserved this. Both of you,” grumbled Ushi, delivering another smack before Twiggy heard the Troll sit down and groan. “Now… have your fun.”

“HMPH!”

Oh. Twiggy certainly wasn’t having his fun.

And he certainly didn’t want to be the recipient, but the Guards, no longer restrained by the Priest, were relentless. Ruthless even when they decided on an order before they had Twiggy lifted and his back pressed against a kneeling Guard’s chest.

The Zandalari’s cock, just as big as Ushi's, certainly felt like a mast or mace as it smacked against the Drakkari’s cunt, smacking those sensitive labia and making them ache.

But… Despite the heat, despite the pain. Despite the need to be bred, nothing was coming inside his cunt.

And his asshole was again speared.

Once more, Twiggy tried to cry, his mouth opening wider.

Right on time for one Troll to fish out the bundle of leather and to throw it away before… They approached with a real mace. Not a cock. But a mace they raised above Twiggy’s head before… They aimed at his tusk.

It broke. It broke apart with a crushing sound, though, luckily, no blood came.

Instead, the tusk was broken in two, with the dry part breaking into many fragments on the ground before the hammer descended on Twiggy’s second tusk.

Sometimes, the Troll used to hate those tusks. Or to appreciate them. But nothing was as heart-wrenching as watching what used to be a part of him being on the floor.

He watched the fragments being kicked away. Through the veil of tears, he observed the Zandalaris kick his pride away before they approached with their cocks presented to his face.

In the back, Twiggy heard the crash of the hammer breaking another pair of tusks. However, he couldn’t say anything as a pair of digits was planted inside his lips, pulling on them then squeezing through his teeth to lock his lower jaw open.

His tongue lolled out for a second before…

A cock was forced inside, and a groin smashed against his nose and face, before a pair of testicles smacked and bruised his chin.

He cried. He gargled. He couldn’t swallow.

His asshole was getting bruised and abused by those Guards who’d sworn to protect him before. His posterior was pummeled and smacked regularly, forcing that tight entrance to clench and massage whoever was inside him at that moment.

His… Even his cunt was targeted by the many Guards as they came all over his thighs, though many cumshots landed on his labia.

“That’s what you savages deserve! To be broken!” huffed Ushi, stomping on the ground with his feet.

He must have hated them, hated every part of them… And Twiggy? Oh. He hated him back.

Through the tears and the horror, something in the Drakkari twisted as he was forced to endure the thrusts pushing past his uvula and making him strangle himself on the gag reflex.

Those cocks were so wide, so large, they were bulging through his throat and belly.

They were akin to weapons as they covered his body with bruises and not only.

Once the first was done cumming inside Twiggy’s throat, and the one inside his ass followed, the Troll was roughly manhandled and impaled on another cock.

It was only through that exchange that Twiggy caught a glimpse of the old Malaka’raz being fingered and masturbating. His cock was steadily going hard, perhaps thanks to the Mojo he was forced to drink. But his testicles were converted to gold, with more than half of their surface being covered.

The Troll… Openly wept, cried, and mumbled something in a dialect unknown.

Twiggy… Pitied him. Much like he pitied himself… And hated the Guards for doing this.

For raping him. For going as far as to castrate that old Speaker.

And yet, the smaller Drakkari was unable to resist as he was again impaled on another cock and felt those nuts smack on his posterior.

Soon enough, he was again choking on another musky dick before the one in his mouth was done cumming and blew its load inside Twiggy’s mouth.

Followed up the one in his ass, starting that procession again. Again… and again. Until it was Ushi’s turn to appear in front of the Drakkari.

“Ah… Let’s have yer turn,” said Ushi, inserting his cock inside Twiggy’s mouth.

This time, the taste of cum and ass overcame the taste of sweat and flesh. A taste that made the Troll wince and grimace before Ushi held Twiggy by the ears and fucked his throat.

No love. No care. Only an abuse that left the young Drakkari gargling and then spitting a mix of throat-slime and cum on the floor when Ushi was done with his mouth. But not with them.

No.

The Priest was grinning, satisfied with the abuse. He even snapped his fingers, attracting the eyes of the Guards that were busily molesting the Speaker before pointing at Twiggy.

“Put him to use,” shouted Ushi, ordering them around before the Speaker was… Forced on all fours like a dog, someone kicking his back.

With another Guard pummeling Twiggy’s asshole, they could have been satisfied with letting the Drakkari watch while the curse crept deeper.

Instead, by grabbing him by the scalp and the ears, they forced the Drakkari’s face against Twiggy’s dripping and agape cunt.

The broken-down tusks were digging into Twiggy’s loins, but no one cared as they forced the old Speaker to breathe, to kiss, to press his face against Twiggy’s entrance until even his nose was penetrating the younger Drakkari’s cunt.

But Twiggy couldn’t cry.

He could only sense that tongue going inside his depths, or the moment of respite when the Speaker was yanked away from his cunt and then forced back inside.

They practically smashed Malaka’raz’s face against the Troll’s groin, practically beat one with the other… Enough for Twiggy’s abdominal waist to hurt, down to his ovaries.

His entire private area was aching, contracting, and hurting… And the presence of the nose, the tongue, or the broken tusks didn’t help.

Neither the constant pummeling he was receiving in the guts, nor the raw abuse that was making his belly bulge, and… Feel heavier with each partner, with each Guard deciding to pump their seed within him.

And it was not over…

It would not be over until Ushi decided so, and the longer it continued, the more the Priest revealed his hate for their kind… And the relishing pleasure he had in tormenting them.

“I… Am sorry. Young Twiggy,” mumbled the Speaker, his voice muffled.

After all, that wasn’t hard to imagine it’d be muffled when Twiggy was forcefully sat on his face, eaten out. Of course, without any of those massive cocks inside, his asshole couldn’t control the flow of cum that was unleashed on the Troll’s face.

Malaka’raz gargled and coughed, but he was relatively enduring. He swallowed the cum that went all over his face… All the while, Twiggy’s face was still hit, the bruises covering his fluffy blue face.

His eyes had difficulty remaining open. His cheeks were purple, and even his lips were swollen. But it didn’t deter the Guards.

They laughed and talked to themselves, even sometimes slapping Twiggy if they considered he glared at them badly.

It wouldn’t end with that, however. Punches were delivered… And then, so were the cumshots.

A circle of men was circling the duo, Twiggy and Malaka’raz, before masturbating.

Even Ushi had joined them, leaving only two Guards to keep Twiggy steady while he was… Covered with precum.

Those cocks, hard and stiff, were profuse. The groins clenched, and the balls were pulled higher. The sweaty orbs were lifted, dragged closer to the torso, before a sticky and thick cum was sprayed all over Twiggy’s face.

Eyes, nose, ears, tusks, scalp, mouth, neck, chest. Nothing was left abandoned as the Guards were groaning and moaning… As they were even kissing or nodding to one another while they covered Twiggy with fluids… And the same for the Speaker.

The Speaker, whose muffled voice quivered, betraying the intense rage he was feeling, too.

Yet… The worst was to come.

“I’m… So-HMPH!”

The Speaker’s face was pressed against Twiggy’s in a forceful kiss. Their lips met, mixing the different tastes that had soiled their mouths. Cum… From all the Trolls. Acrid, intense, iodine. It was strong in the mouth. It exacerbated the fact the two… were forcefully mating.

“See! I am generous! I’m giving you a chance!” roared Ushi. He was definitely getting a kick out of the situation as the Guards were holding Twiggy’s legs wide open so they could ‘mate’.

Yet… Twiggy could only feel that cold metallic cock inside him.

He could only feel that cock that felt so artificial, so useless, so pointless inside him. But whenever he had the chance to look down, he could only see… Only see what had happened.

Malaka’raz’s cock was covered in gold. No… His cock was now gold, similar to his balls.

The gold had crept over his groin but stopped since then…

But the poor Speaker was definitely… Limited. Emasculated.

The gold must have overtaken everything, cursed him to his very being. And in return, as his cock had been ‘immortalized’ in an erection, it wasn’t experiencing anything.

Not as the two were grabbed by the hips and forcefully mated, their groins meeting.

“Do-Don’t,” moaned and cried Twiggy, his voice ragged and his anger strangling him.

“I- I couldn’t breed you,” huffed the older Troll, his expression contorted in dismay. In… Horror as he wasn’t capable of breeding him…

“And you couldn’t even now. Tsk. What a shame! That’s why Zinjo will be there to take your place,” laughed Ushi, snapping his fingers.

With that, Malaka’raz was yanked away, his gold penis still upright but now glistening with cum as Ushi smirked… Ready for another round.

-

He groaned.

His posterior ached, impaled as he was on that gold organ. On that cock that might have been alive but felt as icy as the bite of Winter.

His lips contorted in anger as he watched from afar the Priests and the Guards drinking.

His body was on fire, bruised, wounded.

Broken ribs made every breath ache. Broken shoulders made even the act of lifting his body difficult. It was an impossible feat to see with his swollen eyes. And the constant sloshing in his ears felt alien…

“Don’t do another rash, young one,” spoke a voice. Lower and gentler than the laughter.

A gentle voice, something he ignored as he finally stood up and tottered forward, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Left foot. Right foot. Even his sense of balance wasn’t right, perhaps from the constant slap.

The mere act of thinking hurt, like spears being planted inside his head.

He groaned, reached for his forehead, and found the fur sticky and coated with fluids.

“You’re asking for a second round?” A voice, chuckling. Self-satisfied, nauseating, cruel.

But no. He straightened his back, even if his balance almost failed him and made him stumble back. Someone cried, and hands grabbed him, steadying him while a palm pushed the back of his head so he could face that laughing voice.

Only one eye worked; the other was glassy. Scars covered that face.

“What happened to you? Have you gone feral like your people? Told you it would happen,” laughed the Troll, looking at the fellow around, as naked and lecherous.

He blinked. Even blinking hurt, but then his head dropped forward.

His mouth contorted, but only a mumble came forth. Almost silent, almost inaudible, but the one-eyed Troll approached with a hand by the ear.

“I can’t hear you, savage. Speak louder.” An order.

Still, he smiled.

His lips curled as he could taste his own blood on his serrated teeth and then… Lunged. It took only a moment, but he bit through the arteries, the serrated teeth digging into the hardened skin like through paper.

Blood rushed through, different from his own. Tastier, sweeter, too.

Instantly, he was pulled back, but it didn’t taste his bite. Nor the cries from the dying Priest.

“STOP HIM!”

But his teeth sank into the neck with an eerie speed, driven by an instinct that was beyond survival and spite: primal. It was a primal fury that was unleashed. That he unleashed as his claws, sharp, drew gashes through the skin.

His teeth sank into the neck with such ease, each time following a pounce or a circumventing movement. The Guards were too drunk, too tired, to fight back. Not enough, not organized sufficiently, as they shouted orders. As they cried, as the orgy of pleasure and joy turned into a massacre.

But he grinned. Grinned more than before, even as he yanked a chunk of flesh out of someone's throat to chew on it.

On the ground, there was someone. Different. Older. With a part turned into gold. Someone who smiled and yet shuddered.

“Ye… Teach them”, huffed the old Troll.

All before he roared, the thirst for blood overtaking him.