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It was inside possibly the most innocuous looking jar Harold could imagine. For such a hugely important container, it couldn’t have been smaller or more nondescript. It fit in Harold’s palm and weighed no more than an apple. The jar was white porcelain, void of any paint or engravings. Had he not been told what was in it, he might’ve thought it an urn or a jar of honey. He never would’ve guessed it contained possibly the greatest scientific discovery known to man.

Inside was a black powder that, when mixed in water, would transform him into an orc, or so Mordin claimed. It was absurd to even think of such a thing, let alone say it exists. He almost felt offended when Mordin told him about it. [i]Please,[/i] Harold thought. [i]I’m not a child to be bought over with fantastic lies.[/i]

He had to hear it from the other orcs. Yes, it was real, and it worked. Mordin invited its inventor to explain how it worked. All of it went over Harold’s head. Could it all be real? The final bit of proof was a fellow who said he was once a human. Harold doubted him until he went on an impressively long story regaling his struggling life as a peasant, his escape to orc territory, then his final conversion into an orc. It was all too long and specific to be a fabrication. Every question Harold asked him was given an answer.

That was enough proof for Harold. Yes, the powder was real, but was he willing to go through with it? There was no way to turn back, and he didn’t know how well things would go when he tried it. His heart screamed at him to do it, but common sense kept him at bay. He had to spend a fortnight thinking about it before he finally decided to do it. The upcoming marriage ceremony helped hasten his decision.

He and Mordin were alone in their chambers. This was a private affair, fit for only their eyes. Harold was nude, letting his pale form glow in the sunlight pouring through the windows. His body chilled with every subtle breeze, shriveling his modest manhood into a fleshy white clot. Before him was a small table which carried the jar of powder and a bowl of water. Between them was a teaspoon he was supposed to fill the bowl with. Three scoops, he had been informed repeatedly. No less or the transformation will only go halfway. No more or else he’ll turn into something else entirely, unlikely to be pleasant.

Mordin stood nearby, dressed in only his loincloth. He was patient, but Harold had been staring at the jar for some time now. “Are you sure about this?”

Harold nodded curtly. “I am. I just… need a moment.”

“Take however long you need.”

“Right. Right. Whoooooo… Alright. Here we go.” He held his arms out in front of him like a wrestler preparing to make a tackle. He flexed his fingers, took another deep breath, then grabbed the lid of the jar. It came off with an arid puhp. Inside he could see the porcelain dusted in fine black powder like one would put in the pan of a musket. He set the lid aside, slid the bowl right up against the jar, then gingerly plucked the teaspoon off the table. With surgical caution he dipped it into the jar and produced a tiny mound of black grains. He dumped it into the bowl where it fell onto the surface and slowly disintegrated into the pool like snow. Two more scoops followed without a single grain touching the floor. He verrrrrrrry carefully stirred the bowl, not letting the maelstrom come too close to the rim of the bowl. A countdown went off in his head. [i]30, 29, 28, 27… …4, 3, 2, 1.[/i]

He pulled the spoon out and tapped it on the rim, just to get those extra few drops. The water was now a solid black. It whirled for several more seconds until relaxing once again into a flat pool. Harold took one last breath before cradling the bowl off the table and hoisting it to his mouth. The rim penetrated his lips before being angled down to release its content. The taste was awful, making Harold wince the moment it singed his tongue. Bearing the malignant flavor, he gulped it down as quickly as he could until at last the bowl was empty.

“Ahh…” He set the bowl down and licked his lips. The bitter elixir made his lips cringe, but the deed was done. It settled in his belly like molten lead, churning alongside his previous meals like a wolf thrown in a sheep’s pasture.

“Good job!” Mordin congratulated. “It’s not the most appealing medicine, is it?”

“No, it certainly is not.” Harold wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. He stood upright and looked down at himself. “How much longer do we wait?”

“Not long at all. Any minute now you’ll feel something kick in,” He tilted his head. “Do you?”

Harold patted his gut. “Not at the moment. I feel it gurgling in my stomach, that much is certain.”

“Just wait. It’ll come.”

And so it did.

The weight that had fallen on his gut bloomed out into the rest of his abdomen, turning into an entire saddle of lead upon his innards. A stifled groan eked out of him as he doubled over and clutched his gut. “Oh…”

“Do you need to sit?” Mordin asked.

Harold waved him off. “No. I don’t think so. I think… I think…” What did he think? A great buzz fell on his vision and hearing. A blanket of smoke fell on his brain, it seemed, dashing his senses into a canvas of clashing colors. The heaviness spread up into his thorax then clung to his heart. Soon all of his trunk muscles were being crushed. “Huhhhhh goodness... Hohhhhhh grace…”

The first change was his color. His pale skin fell into a lifeless pallor void of any pigment. It marked the escalation of his nausea and had him slack-jawed and beginning to drool. In just a few shades at a time his color came back, but nothing like the rosy flesh that had been there before. A sickly green rose to the surface like a kicked-up cloud of silt within a river. It fell down his limbs and coated his face. With every passing second it grew darker, replacing all that was once so fair and spritely.

“[i]Ah![/i]” Every muscle of his was pulled taut at once like a piano being tuned. He was able to bring up his arm and witness the transformation. The muscle that lay beneath his softness began to writhe and squirm, making the surface above bulge and boil into something much more misshapen. The fat was sizzling away, sinking the skin into his reforming musculature. For the first time in his life he saw the outline of his biceps. It swelled and hardened before his very eyes, weaving out a roadmap of thick veins and wiry sinews. What had been a scrawny stick of skin and bone was quickly inflating into a column of rock and steel.

The same was done across the rest of his limbs. Once the fat had burnt itself away it was replaced by an exemplary display of power and strength. His traps rocketed into a new pair of shoulders. Pecs introduced themselves as two giant cinder blocks. He had biceps bigger than his head, thighs like tree trunks, and an abdomen cut so finely that it could’ve been sculpted only by a master. Trouble was that his height was still the same, bloating his proportions out into something even more preposterous than Mordin’s. It felt like all of his muscles were being stretched over a tanning rack. A wild look twitched his eye, conveying his extreme discomfort.

Mordin knew it wasn’t pleasant, but he was too enthralled to do anything besides watch. He wasn’t present for the other transformations; this was his first. Seeing it happen to the man he’d been growing so fond of the past week filled him with a certain level of arousal that would soon be difficult to hide.

Harold had bigger problems than his horny fiance. His muscles looked ready to tear through his dull green skin at any moment. Relief, if it can be called that, came in the form of his bones going into hyperdrive. He shut his eyes and groaned. “[i]Ahhhh![/i]” His skeleton began its transition as a collective. Not one bone grew or morphed faster than the other, subjecting poor Harold to a body-wide stretching sensation. If he was being interrogated, this was the cue to start talking. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to stop his very abrupt growth spurt, one that had him stacking on inches every second. From his toes to his cranium he rose towards the ceiling, popping and crackling his ligaments loudly enough to make Mordin wince. “[i]Ahhhhh! Hahhh… Hahhh.. God…[/i]”

He at least lost the paralysis holding his muscles hostage, allowing him to flex his expanding fingers. Already they had grown into a pair of mitts the size of infants. The jaw on his face began to jut into a severe underbite. Their canines sprouted like a bean plant, turning into a proud pair of white cones whose summits were on level with his flattening nostrils. His hair went into a great burst of growth, going from a bouncy curtain of gold into a Doradian cascade that reached his lower back. Soft facial features hardened into a landscape of sharp edges and a jutted brow. Amidst it all was the fusing of his eyebrows above his nose.

His transformation was now at its climax. The hardest part was done with, saving what Mordin anticipated the most for last. Harold let loose an echoing groan, one that sounded nothing like the voice that had been struggling just seconds ago. “[i]Ahh~![/i]” His penis and balls were nothing more than an ill-developed wad of shriveled fruit on a vine. It had gone unchained since he drank the elixir. Now he felt every sensation fall on it all at once, making the 7 foot neo-orc buckle at his knees. Like a balloon flooded with water his penis sprouted from his pinched foreskin and lengthened out into a full-fledged club. Not far behind was his scrotum, now looking more like a pair of cannonballs inside an emerald purse.

His cock swung downwards under its own weight. Veins as thick as the ones on his arms swelled around his shaft, working at their absolute capacity to fill him with blood. Every throb was an added inch both to his length and ungodly circumference. Soon his glans were at his knees, then his mid-shin. His balls were fit to feed a siege weapon as ammunition, too big for even the heartiest of ostriches to lay. The skin surrounding them was pulled tight from their weight, holding firm only by some miracle.

His penis was done growing, but it was not done showing off. It rose in a series of flexes, going up a notch each time. The foreskin, now the thickness of plate armor, peeled back to reveal a fat cherry a shade of green so dark that it was almost black. In a matter of seconds he was at full staff, pointing at Mordin in all of his newfound masculine glory. Harold of Amuria was no more. Harold of Orminia had been born.

It took him several seconds to even realize the transformation was done. Every emotion ranging from euphoria to grief was piling its way through his synapses. His massive chest heaved a steady beat of breaths that sounded like the bleat of a large predator. To say his heart was in a frenzy would be putting it too lightly. Looking down and seeing his magnificent cock was mind boggling, but even more so was the distance to the floor below. It was like he had been stood on a pedestal and made to peer down the frontside of a giant from his shoulder, except he was the giant.

“Goodness,” he said, then immediately startled. His voice was not his own. It was low and gravelly like Mordin’s. It even had a slight lisp courtesy of his overly pronounced mandible. “I-I feel…” Was there a word for it? “I feel… like an orc.”

Mordin blinked. He was as dumbstruck as Harold had been when they first met. If there was anything more surreal than turning into an orc, it was watching it happen before your very eyes. “Well! You certainly look like one!” His eyes fell down to Harold’s greatest blessing. “Indeed you do…”

Harold didn’t notice. He was far too busy feeling himself up. “Wow! This is capital! I honestly didn’t think it would go so swimmingly!”

It cracked Mordin up hearing such a girthy orc voice speak in what was Harold’s unique charm. “I told you! Now you needn’t fear being accepted, though you never had to.”

Harold’s canines lifted with a smile. “No I didn’t, but I still prefer this body much more.” He looked down at his open palms. “If only my family could see me now.”

Mordin shook his head. “Forget about them. We’re your family, not them.”

“Ah, you’re right. No point in dwelling on the past.” He looked back up at Morbin. He noticed, not for the first time, his sweeping loin cloth. It was a sight he’d gotten used to over the past week. The two had slept together and even cuddled in the nude, per Harold’s own wishes. It was all so that he could adapt himself to the orcs’ perpetual modesty. For the most part he was getting closer to becoming blind towards their nudity.

Now was not the case.

If Harold ever grew blind to Mordin’s cock bulge, it wouldn’t be because he stopped paying attention to it. It would be because his retinas were fried by its Herculean glory. Harold did not marvel at it, but rather lusted for it. Now that he possessed his own orcish pillar, Mordin’s did not require meek comparison, but intimate inspection. His dumb stare was as subtle as his erection that was beginning to ebb a not-insignificant amount of precum.

It was hard for Mordin not to notice. His mouth lifted into a grin. “You look awfully excited to see me! Have you always been so stiff while around me?”

Harold’s face went from orc green to blood red. “Oh! I-! Haha! I apologize. I don’t-”

“No,” Mordin said flatly. “Don’t apologize.” He reached behind his back where his loincloth was tied. “Why don’t I join you?” With the most delicate of pulls Mordin undid his loincloth and allowed it to sink to the floor below where it would remain discarded. Out came his manhood in the entirety of its glory, not for Harold’s first look, but certainly for his first real bit of appreciation. It was a level bigger than Harold’s- no small feat -thanks to a severe girth close to what Harold’s thigh had been as a human. It was much darker in color and appeared to have a more leathery texture. From the hilt to the head it was at least four feet, maybe five. The girth was too much for a human to close their hands around it. His cock helmet was peeking its way through the foreskin, gaining entry into the world with every degree his shaft hardened and rose. Like watching the sun set, Harold just stood there and waited until Mordin was at his fullest, more than matching Harold’s excitement in mere presentation.

Harold felt queasy, but in the absolute best way possible. A swarm of butterflies had begun migrating in his tummy. His palms grew sweaty. A jaunty flex of muscle made his cock bounce and his tailhole pucker. [i]Oh God,[/i] he realized. [i]I need him. I need him now.[/i]

Mordin read his mind and approached. The stone floor [i]shiffed[/i] beneath his feet to the rhythm of his gently swaying orc cock. The two lovers came in arms’ reach of one another, blending the raunchy stench of their mutual arousals like coffee and cream. Harold was given a more accurate comparison of their sizes and features. Harold was a behemoth, but Mordin was a leviathan, outgrowing Harold by a half-foot at least. Harold’s shaft was an even jade color, smooth and delicate. Mording, meanwhile, was several shades darker. It looked abrasive enough to be used as sandpaper.

Mordin reached out for him, surely for his penis, Harold thought with some anxiety. No, it was his hand Mordin took, as gingerly as he would a beautiful flower. Harold was less reserved, giving his fiance the tightest finger-squeeze that he could. “I know that I told you that it was important to speak one’s feelings, but I confess there’s something I’ve been holding back from you.”

Harold frowned. “What is it?”

Mordin’s eyes fell to the floor. “Well, simply put, I always thought you were beautiful, even when you were a human.” [i]That[/i] caught Harold off guard. “I wanted to tell you so badly this past fortnight, but with how you were handling your coming here, I didn’t want you to think I was patronizing you.” His eyes rolled back up to meet Harold’s gaze. It peered back with tear-inducing intensity. “But now that you are an orc in flesh as well as you are community, I finally have the bravery to tell you just how stunning I think you really are.”

Harold was the stunned one. Like the orc Duke had done so many times before, he’d rendered the prince speechless. What on earth could he say in return that carried the same magnitude? “Well,” he began. “I’ve felt very similarly about you, although ‘beautiful’ is not the word I’d use.” He thought for a second. “Magnificent, graceful, an absolute joy to be around. Yes, I think that fits the bill. We’ve only known each other for a week, but it’s like you’re the first person I’ve truly met in my entire life.” He looked down at Mordin’s penis. “And by God you’ve got a cock I’ve been dying to be friendly with.”

The chambers shook with Mordin’s laughter. “[i]Ahahahahahahaha![/i] Well! I can’t say I expected such vulgarity out of the likes of you!”

Harold blushed. “Sorry. It’s just how I feel.”

Mordin quelled his burning cheeks with a gentle caress. “Good. I’m glad you feel that way.” He pulled him in for a kiss.

Orc-kissing is an awkward affair thanks to their prominent jaws and teeth. Mordin had some experience, Harold not so much. That didn’t stop him from slamming his eyes shut and putting every ounce of his passion into lathering Mordin’s lips with his spit. Their rocky visages crammed together into a sloppy smack-fest of wrestling tongues and writhing lips. Slaver drooled from their conjoined maws, plopping down to the floor below. Mordin had the mind to do a miniature sidestep so that he could put his hip to Harold’s and bare their cocks on each other’s flanks. Mordin went to work stroking his lover’s member, dancing his fingers from hilt to head in a slow but fluid back-and-forth.

Harold followed suit, albeit with much less finesse. His paw tugged on Morbin’s column like their lives depended on it. The heat of Mordin’s lips was much more distracting than it should have been, but how else could a man focus when a towering hunk of orc was making love to his mouth? Mordin’s penis got the rundown it so badly needed, at least according to Harold’s desires. The bottom of his fingers scraped against every vein and filament, burning it into his memory where it would remain as distinctly as his own name. He would grow much more acquainted with it in the near future.

Mordin appreciated his enthusiasm, but it was a bit much. He broke off the kiss and laid a polite but firm hand on Harold’s chest, urging him to stop. Harold was a huffing, puffing mess, beating hot steam into the atmosphere between their spit-soaked faces. Tendrils of drool fell to the floor. “Ah!” sighed Mordin. “Making good on that new body of yours! Heh, and mine too.”

“[i]Hahhh… Hahhh…[/i] Yes… God… I am… so hot…”

“Yes, I can see that. You were ready to rid me of my scepter!”

“Ahh! Sorry.”

Mordin shook his head. “Nonsense. We’ll do everything we can with that kind of fervor, although if you don’t mind…” He sidestepped and turned to the side, revealing the sprawling mattress behind him. “I think it’d better be taken care of in comfort, don’t you think?”

Harold’s heart was doing parlor tricks in his chest. “Yes, yes I do.”

Mordin gave him a toothy smile. “Good. Join me, if you will.” Mordin took his hand and guided the bashful prince to the bed. The two had shared it together before, but never in knowledge of each other. Climbing onto it felt like stepping onto a stage to perform a play. Except here there was no audience here besides Mordin. Either way, the pressure to perform was mountainous.

The two men knelt in front of each other, their colossal cocks hanging in front of them at the ready. Harold could hardly hear anything past the violent thrash of his heart in his ears. “S-so.. how will we… do it?”

“Are you a virgin to a man’s touch?”

“Yes…” His eyes shied downwards. “And to a woman’s.”

Mordin’s excitement blew through him like a barrage of fireworks, but he betrayed none of that. He comforted his conques- er, lover by patting him on the shoulder. “Fear not. I’ll be as gentle as a pond lily.”

It eased Harold’s nerves, if just a little. “Thank you,” he said, then added, “I trust you.”

Mordin kissed him on the cheek. “And I you. The first thing I’d do if I were you would be to get on your belly.

[i]Oh dear.[/i] “Alright.” Harold turned his back on Mordin to lie himself out. The cumulus of sheets whispered beneath his torso as he glided down it. He was keenly aware of the bedroom air on his exposed backside as well as the pair of eyes staring at them.

Mordin liked what he saw. Harold’s backside was a nicely plump pair of jade hills whose explosive glutes and frightful breadth signified the ability to breed and be bred. It was very much the latter Mordin was after. He waddled over on his knees up to Harold and grabbed hold of his ankles. Harold felt his legs come open, something he did not resist, but did tense at. Making the prince grasp was Mordin’s beefy hands falling onto his haunches. The thumbs dipped into his crevice and pulled them asunder.

Mordin beheld his star, a plump donut of black muscle clotted into a pucker. Beneath it was a smooth plain of cock-root from which his pillowy man fruit hung and then laid on the soft comforter below. A sharp chill rolled up Harold’s spine, making his nipples perk and his pucker tighten before Mordin’s very eyes. Very inviting, very inviting indeed. Mordin dabbed his thumb on it, inspecting its wrinkled and rough texture. A small gasp inflated the man he was touching. It went ignored. Like any orc’s, Harold’s backside felt tight, strong, and pliable, exactly what Mordin hoped for. But before he would take advantage of such pliability…

“[i]Ahh-ahh-ahh-AHH-AHH![/i]” A stuttered gasp made Harold’s back coil into a backwards crescent, lifting his shocked face from off the mattress. Striking such life into him was the introduction of Mordin’s snout into his canyon, curt, direct, and right on the tailhole. Jitters like the sharpest of knives ripped up his backside, making the poor prince shiver like a leaf. There was the brush of Mordin’s dank breath down his taint and balls combined with a wet smooch on his pucker. Yet another gasp, this time more like a squeal, sucked through him. “Ohhhhhhhh God… Oh God… Huhhhhh… Gracious… That’s… something. Whoooo…”

That very something was a skill Mordin had been wanting to demonstrate on Harold ever since they had met. Eating the scrawny human’s rump was a dream he didn’t know he had, but alas it slipped away once Harold finally decided to take the elixir. Oh well. This wasn’t a bad substitute. Bathing his face and flooding his mouth was the heat of Harold’s insides. There was a hot sheen of ass sweat slicking across his nose and mouth, joining what was a still-growing well of spit. Out came Mordin’s tongue, right upon Harold’s donut. That got the sharpest reaction yet, turning the prince into a quivering, gasping wreck. Mordin grinned from within Harold’s cheeks, happy to hear a virgin squeal.[i] Just you wait.[/i]

Only when the Duke thought his fiance was buttered up enough did he pry his face out of his crack with an arid “[i]Ahh![/i]” Fluids from both his mouth and Harold’s pores were smeared across his visage. Steam rose out of Harold’s crack, radiating across Mordin’s snout and making his cock throb. A terrific growl rumbled through his chest. “Mmmmmm, I think we’re ready for the next step~”

Harold was still in the middle of shivering his tail off. “Huhhh… Huhhh… Dear God…” He gulped to get a hold of himself. Between his chest and the mattress below his cock throbbed angrily, letting loose a wad of precum. “Huhhh… I am too… Please, God… Fuck me…”

“Oh, I plan on it.” Mordin pushed himself up off the back of Harold’s knees and crawled forward, dragging that Cyclopean phallus along with him. Harold felt the tip of it drag up the back of his thigh and then onto his buttock. He sank his bottom teeth into his lip, huffing through his nose deeply. Mordin brought his mouth down to his ear and whispered. “I’d relax, if I were you.”

“[i]Ulp.[/i] Yes sir… Mmmm…” He took a few breaths and let his muscles ease into something much less tense. “Alright. Alright. I think I’m ready. Oh God…”

“Good~” Mordin planted his left hand next to Harold and grabbed his cock with the other. It was hoisted onto the prince’s crevice and left to sit there among the heat of Harold’s tailhole. Mordin sawed it back and forth, tendering Harold up for the pounding that awaited him. At last Mordin aimed down his canyon and prodded his donut, making him quiver once more. Mordin was too far along to stop and tell the orc to relax. He was dying to fuck him, thus he would.

The pressure between their flesh escalated until at last Harold’s flower began to distend. “[i]Uhh![/i]” The muscles in his thighs quaked and his toes began to curl. His breathing escalated whilst he still fought hard to remain lax. That proved difficult once his pucker yawned into a crater, devouring the entirety of Mordin’s cock helmet. The physical sensation was as severe as the emotional impact of recognizing what was happening: he was getting fucked. “[i]Huhhh! Huhhh! God! Yes! Hohhhh…[/i]”

Mordin’s ass fell down into a grinding swoop, plunging his cock into Harold’s backside inch by fleshy inch. Accompanying the steady huff-moans was the soft [i]schlick[/i] of hot wet flesh gliding across one another. Harold was stretched to his absolute, undoing the wrinkles of his pucker while his buttocks clung to the oncoming pole. It was barbarically intense, not only pummeling his backside with a myriad of feelings both pleasing and agonizing, but filling the entirety of his body with its shimmering residuals.

Mordin cooed him through the process. “Mmmmmmmm, that’s it. Hahhhhhh…”

Harold wrenched at the sheets and buried his face. “[i]Huhhhh! Huhhhh… God… So much… Ahhh![/i]”

“Isn’t it?” Mordin teased. Harold’s grip on him was as masculine as he had hoped, milking him for more of his delight and enticing his entry. At last that cantankerous set of balls rested on Harold’s thighs, feeling like a beanbag that had been filled with hot water. Harold’s ring coddled the hilt between a pair of rapidly twitching glutes. Mordin sighed through his teeth. “Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnn incredible~”

Harold agreed, but he didn’t have the temperance to properly convey it with words. Instead he continued to whimper and moan into the bedsheets, occasionally muttering his lover’s name. “[i]Hohhhh! Ahhhh! Mordin! Oh God… Yes! Mordin…[/i]”

The Duke leaned his head down to nuzzle the soft curtain of gold locks that came down the back of Harold’s head. He kissed and sniffed it gently, letting his conquest- yes, a conquest -simmer in the bliss of having such an adept breeder lay claim to him. “Does it feel good?” he whispered past his ear.

“[i]Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh~[/i]”

“Mmm, I thought it did.” Mordin brought his face out of Harold’s scalp, holding himself up in a push-up position with his giant hands astride Harold’s shoulders. His hips came upwards, drawing out that emerald rocket like a claymore from its sheath. Harold’s donut bulged out with it, gripping with every ounce of its might and dedication. Mordin came to a halt only when his foreskin started to peek, then promptly slid back down, this time with a noted level of force.

Hips collided with ass. Harold’s face came flying out of the sheets to release a very sincere moan. “[i]Huhhh~![/i]”

And so it began. Mordin’s withdrawals and his thrusts were at equal speed, slow, methodical, and very, very deep. The [i]plap[/i] of his giant balls landing on Harold’s thighs couldn’t be heard under Harold’s song of joy, but that would change shortly. For now, however, Mordin intended on savoring their conjoined bodies for all it was worth. His buttocks clenched and his abs crunched. His flat nostrils flared. “How is it, my sweet?” he grumbled.

“[i]Huhhhhhhh… Good. So goooooood…[/i]” That fell far too short of just how amazing it was. It was like a burst of fireworks every time that piston grinded past his prostate, smushing it like a sponge. Precum flooded out of him and further soaked his chest, adding to the growing smell of orc product. His fingers grabbed and tugged at the sheets. Ignorant of his new strength, he could’ve crushed the bed columns with the force he was wrenching the mattress.

He only grew more powerful once Mordin’s pace escalated. With the rising pitch of Harold’s wails came the much more pronounced smacks on his backside. [i]Bap bap bap bap bap bap bap![/i] Mordin threw his entire body into it, rocking both the squealing prince and the massive bed frame beneath them. Grunts and snorts could be heard coming from Mordin who had to utilize a significant level of restraint so as not to pound his lover into dust. Regardless of how well he held back, it was still a great amount to deal with for the orc prince.

“[i]Huhhhhh! Huhhhhhhhhhh! God! Yes! Oh fuck meeee! Huhhhhhh[/i]!”

Mordin obliged him, going faster and harder. [i]BAP! BAP! BAP! BAP! BAP! BAP![/i] His lips curled back into a ferocious snarl. The tendons in his forearms bulged with the clench of his fingers on the sheets. The sight and sound of Harold rocking and screaming beneath him only drove his piston to go faster. At last his veneer of being gentle with the virgin shattered, and the Duke let Harold have it. “Huhhhhhh…. Huhhhhh… Hnnngggghhhhhhhhhh…” grunted the stud. “Mmf… I think I’m going to cum. [i]Yes! Hahhh… I’m close![/i]”

Through the blinding delight burning throughout his innards Harold could feel the same memo thundering close. His thrumming orc-voice turned into a feminine wail. “[i]HUHHHHHH! YES! I’M CUMMING! HUHHHHH! I’M CUMMING TOO! YES! YES!!![/i]”

They were both men of their word. In one sudden strike, Mordin slammed his hips down onto Harold’s ass, flattening them and sending a shockwave through his thighs. The Duke’s head threw backwards, whipping his thick braid out behind him. His countenance scrunched into something fierce. “[i]HHHHRRRRNNNNGGGHHHHHHUUUUUuuuuuuhhhhhh~~~!!![/i]”

With the explosive arrival of Mordin’s cum came Harold’s. That powerful throb from inside of him triggered an equally violent one beneath his chest. Ropes thicker than his finger had been when he was a human spat out of his sandwiched cock with an audible [i]thhp! [/i]It splurted across his chest, stickying the inside of his huge orc pecs. More followed, completely dousing everything from his upper belly to his collar.

He didn’t even notice it. The ecstasy was too bright. “[i]HUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~~~!!![/i]” His body bounced and writhed wildly. Womanly squeals bellowed out of him, ringing through the chambers and far beyond into the palace halls. Through Mordin’s deafening climax he could hear Harold screaming, a proud achievement that further added to his explosive delight.

Their orgasms faded gradually and the last drop of cum fell free. Mordin took several seconds to catch his breath before carefully kneeling upright and sliding his cock free of Harold’s backside. [i]Schlllllp.[/i] It sagged forward under its own weight. Smeared across it was a debaucherous film of cum and grime. In front of it was a ghastly crater of dark flesh twitching its way back closed. A thickish slug of molten ivory came gurgling out of Harold, staining the back of his scrotum and puddling onto the sheet below. Mordin stroked his cock deeply, savoring both the intense afterglow as well as the new assortment of veins that had risen to the surface of his shaft. “Whooooo… That was exquisite. What did you think?”

[i]What did I think? He fucked my mind into the next life, and he asks me what I think?[/i] Harold would’ve confronted him on the absurd question if his mind wasn’t completely swamped with delight. “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

Mordin laughed and patted his ass cheek. “Yes, I figured you would like it.” He pried his fingers underneath Harold’s hip and flipped him onto his back. It revealed an appalling mess of alabaster slime which glistened across his entire trunk and left a man-sized dark spot on the sheet. The smell was sickly and tart, making both men cringe their noses. It helped reinvigorate their erections, preparing both of them for the inevitable second round.

Harold smacked his lips and opened his eyes to see his handsome lover tower over him with a hyper phallus hovering out in front like a battering ram. Harold chuckled weakly and began stroking it. “I have to say, that was absolutely ethereal. I never thought sex could be so… enlightening, least of all with another man.”

Mordin grinned smugly. “I’m glad to be your first.”

“As am I. I don’t think there’s another orc out there who could’ve done as well.”

The Duke chuckled. “No. There isn’t.”

Harold giggled and sat up to kiss his fiance. The two men spent some time smacking lips and frotting their meat cannons together. It was nice to bathe in the afterglow, but eventually their arousals flared into a roaring demand for more. Their mouths parted. “How do you want it next?” Mordin asked him.

Harold was hoping he’d ask. “I want you on your back. I think I can sit on top of you and… you know.”

“Oooh, taking control, I see.”

“If that’s alright.”

“Oh, I assure you, it is~”

Mordin flopped himself down right next to Harold and onto his back, flopping his cock out onto his belly and letting his balls pile up between his thighs on the mattress. Harold couldn’t contain his excitement as he launched himself upright and kicked his leg over Mordin to straddle his thighs. Harold took that vein-choked pillar of green and hoisted it upright, towering it like the mightiest redwood. He had to stand up on his feet in order to bring his backside over the summit of it. After taking two steps forward, he very cautiously sat his keister down and reintroduced himself to Mordin’s cock.

“Ohhh…” With one hand wrapped around the foreskin he grinded the glans down into the crevice of his buttocks. Mordin laid back and simply watched with a patient smile. It was no rush, not when he got to watch his adorable fiance work so hard to get fucked. Finally the tip reunited with Harold’s pucker, and with just a small amount of pressure it was back inside. “[i]Uhhh… Ohhh…[/i]”

The process was slow but inexorable. Harold devoured Mordin’s length with a single descent, moaning and gasping softly along the way. Mordin watched as his column gradually disappeared until he was greeted face-to-face with the head of Harold’s cock. The smell of cum burned hot, making Mordin’s nose crinkle. It was downright delectable, urging Mordin to take as many deep whiffs as his heart desired. [i]Sniffffffffffff.[/i] “Ahhhhhh…”

Harold giggled through his moans. “[i]You like it, hmm?[/i]”

“Oh, you know I do.” [i]Snifffffff.[/i]

“[i]Mmmmm, I can tell~[/i]” Harold made his first ascent to Mordin’s summit and then came back down. “[i]Ah! Ah-ah! Ahhhh…[/i]” His movements were jilted and irregular thanks to the resurging pleasure that made his inner thighs start quivering once more. His legs shook hard enough that they seemed ready to crumble out from beneath him. But with his orcish strength he maintained his stature and rode Mordin’s cock with a better grace than most virgins.

“Mmmm, that’s nice~” complimented Mordin whose hand slid up and down the length of Harold’s cock like a shuttle. The other cradled one of his nuts and rolled it around its purse. “Having fun?”

“[i]Huhhhhhhhhh yes~[/i]” He wasn’t answering the question so much as expressing his joy. It got the message across, though.

“I know you are. You have no idea how beautiful you look.”

Harold’s mouth was hung open, but it managed a smile. “[i]Hohhh, thank you~[/i]”

Mordin massaged his hands up across Harold’s flanks. “I could watch you ride that cock forever.”

“[i]Mmmmm, and I could ride it forever. Huhhh! Except… Nnnnn… I think I’d cum first…[/i]”

A chuckle bounced Mordin’s chest. “Alas, so would I.”

It took a minute or so, but Harold finally hit a proper rhythm. His rises and falls were in tune with one another, neither going faster than the other. With each ascent he would throw his ass back, then hump it forward upon going down. His head swooned, spilling that waterfall of gold hair down his shoulder. More precum globbed out of his cock and down onto Mordin’s face. The Duke would chuckle and wipe it off with his fingers, maybe dabbing it into his mouth if he so pleased.

Harold’s fluidity started to wane. When he came down it was not slow or controlled. With that heavenly pleasure crippling his thigh muscles he had to surrender to gravity, slapping his ass down on Mordin’s lap. With his loss of finesse came the inevitable escalation in pitch. “[i]Huhhhh! Oh God! I’m cumming again! Huhhhh! Yes! Huhhh! Close![/i]”

It was the mere desperation in Harold’s voice that edged Mordin towards his own climax. “Hahhhh… I’m not far behind.” His fingers sank into the flanks of Harold’s buttocks. “Keep going. Huhhh… Don’t stop!”

Harold didn’t dream of it. With his huge cock bouncing off of Mordin’s neck and collar, he went into a dramatic frenzy of bounces. “[i]HUHHHHH! AHHHH! HUUUUHHHHHHH!!![/i]” His orgasm struck in the very middle of his riding. He didn’t slow down or stop even as the first few ropes of cum came spitting out of him with violent force. Mordin was a direct recipient of it this time, earning a few shots in the chin and face. He flinched away but did not shy from jerking Harold’s cock to draw out as much manly nectar the prince could spare.

He spared a lot, as did Mordin once he joined his fiance in cumming. “[i]HHHHRRNNNGGHHFFFF-~![/i]” Another burst of liquid love tore through Harold’s insides, winding through his guts and imprinting it with the Duke’s love. Harold’s climax intensified, draining a significant portion of what remained in the tank.

Poor Harold almost collapsed off to the side. Everything from the chest down was completely rubber. His giant orc cock was a beacon of white-hot delight, the product of which continued to drool out onto Mordin’s visage. It took him every ounce of his willpower to lift himself up and off of Mordin’s scepter. It fell out of him limply, uncorking a barbaric flood of white oil that splooged down onto the Duke’s package. The moment he was free Harold slumped over onto the side and collapsed next to Mordin.

The two lovers could hardly function. Attempts at kisses missed, instead landing blindly on each other’s faces. Harold tasted the coppery residue of his own cum. He couldn’t have cared less. The two men intertwined themselves within a quagmire of sweat, cum, breath, and orc. Before they even had planned on how to fuck next they were on top of each other, huffing and grunting through a barrage of kisses, gropes, and pinches.

It was only the beginning.

When the sun was making its final swing towards the horizon, Harold and Mordin were still fucking. When the moon had dashed its ghostly light across the city, Harold and Mordin were still fucking. When every other orc had gone to bed and were asleep (or at least the ones who weren’t subject to the beastly screams echoing out of the Duke’s chambers) Harold and Mordin were still fucking. An orcish rampage fueled them both, driving Mordin to fuck his prince until he was quite simply physically unable to do so anymore. It was as much of a workout for Harold as it was for him. With newfound competitiveness he threw himself at his Duke, milking him and himself for every drop of their love, the likes of which were splayed and spewed across the sheets in a Pollockian display of hedonistic destruction.

The two lovers did not collapse from their exhaustion until the last pearl had been bled from their scrotums. Their organs burned with an ache like having something jammed down their urethras. Fortunately it was a pain they did not have to suffer immediately. The very instant their romp was finished they both passed out and began snoring.

[center]***[/center]

Harold woke up with a great start. His eyes flashed open, then tightened into a squint. The chambers were flooded with sunlight, far too lively to have been early in the morning. It was close too, if not already past, noon. He shielded his eyes with his wrist and groaned. “Nnnnnnn…” His every muscle was sore like he had been beaten and dragged through the streets. His cock, which he saw was still as erect as ever, ached the worst. “Dear God.” He sat upright, groaning the whole way. He rubbed his face with his hands, both of which he noticed were crusted in dried cum. Sniffing the air he realized that the entire bed reeked of his and Mordin’s sexual aftermath. “Good gracious,” he murmured.

Mordin’s return to the world was much more chipper. His eyes blinked open and at once he was sitting up and ready to face the day. He took a deep inhale of that raunchy sex smell and sighed with a smile. “Well! Yesterday was quite the adventure, I’d say!” He looked over and saw the groggy Harold. He wrapped his arm around him and pulled him in for a brotherly squeeze. “You were incredible! You howled like a singer! I’m proud of you.”

Harold winced within his embrace. “Ahaha… Thank you. Oof.” He noticed that Mordin’s cock was still erect too. Both of their shafts were completely smothered in veins. Every pulse of his heart was a stab of pain. “Goodness… Won’t this stiffness die down? Ah… It’s killing me.”

“Oh, this?” Mordin chuckled and grabbed hold of Harold’s dick like it was a stair bannister, making the prince gasp. “Not any time soon, no. You’re an orc now! Once this thing gets going, it’s not easy to stop.”

The fear was clear on Harold’s face. “You’re joking.”

Mordin shook his head with a smile. “I'm afraid not. We’re a hardy lot, you know. Before the Orc Kingdom’s unification we were certainly a rowdy bunch. We were built to fuck every woman- or man -we could get our hands on once we grew hard. Fortunately we’ve done away with that habit, but our cocks haven’t gotten the same message!”

“Oh God…” Mordin’s grip on his shaft was painful, but dammit, it was also hot. The orc blood pulsing through his veins brought with it yet another surge of arousal. “We didn’t do enough last night?”

“Our manhoods are on separate pages from our energies. What we can do our breeders can do ten times over on their own.”

“Oh. I see.” Harold stayed quiet for a moment. He blushed. “Can we do it again then?”

The man he grew to love smiled at him, kissed his cheek, then shoved him in the shoulder. As Harold rolled onto his back, the Duke stood up, that monstrous cock of his sprouting forth with an even more hellacious presence than that of the orc who wielded it. “As a matter of fact, yes, yes we can~”

[center][b]THE END[/b][/center]