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“Hear! Hear! I hereby present you our Majesty, our benevolent King, our Lordship whose blade has felled many Demons! Urvag the Strong! Heir of the Irontusk dynasty! Conqueror of the West! Killer of-“

[I]SNAP!

[/I]The Herald stopped in his tracks, his mouth shutting up in the instant while his face remained still and up as if he expected to be allowed to speak within the minute. But he didn’t. And soured, the overdressed Orc sulked on his way outside while leaving the throne room, clearly dragging his feet over the rich carpet.

For a moment, all eyes were over him. Not the draperies, not the marble statues, not the guards clad in mithril, only that one little Orc whose bombastic attitude had been killed with a mere snap. And then, back to the King.

Urvag the Strong. For most citizens, King Urvag was a powerful Orc whose tales were not so far-fetched, especially when one saw his stature. Despite his status, the man solely wore a gray used shirt over his chiseled and tantalizing body. His legs, powerful, were comparable to trunks… Most fabric was put to the wringer, constantly straining to contain the King’s powerful form. Each second, each movement from those dark green hands to those shuffling feet, brought more stress on the clothes, which, at its center, were working to contain what seemed to be the Kingdom’s crown jewels, Urvag’s groin. It was large, big, mostly grabbing the attention of the many while he kept his legs spread and allowing that definitely large, but not obscene, bulge to remain exposed.

Alas, that’s what Ol’ thought as he stood in the line of petitioners there to request the King’s help. Each year, a few petitioners were fetched among the Orc’s kingdom and were allowed to ask something of the King. In that situation, the request could be accepted or refused, but anything could be asked. Like a potion to heal a bad leg, to approve an expedition towards the untouched lands far west, like during the conquest, or even get a weapon made by the royal blacksmith.

So many requests.

But when it was time for the farmer in his twenties… Late twenties…

“A parcel of land,” he said with his intense blue eyes focused on his King; albeit not Urvag’s eyes.

“A parcel of land? Is that all?” asked the King, his voice questioning while the Farmer’s calloused hands wrangled and pressed together. His clothes were almost unraveled, his exhausted straw hat attached to his leather belt, his clogs splintering. He looked at his King, at the groin.

It was a good choice, Ol’ thought.

Born in a family of four, with his mother gone and Father on the verge of passing away, the Farmer had no chance to ascend or survive. He was the last, destined to become a farmhand if he had no land on his own. He wasn’t rich; he wasn’t famished, though. But his life was… Dull. As dull as the tools he constantly sharpened, as dull as the beasts he had to feed and prepare for the butcher, as dull as…

“Yes, my lord. I want it,” said Ol’, though his eyes remained focused on the King’s strained pants, watching the slight… Throb inside.

“What is your name, Son?”

For once, finally, Ol’s eyes were going up. Over that unbuttoned collar, to that fuzzy brown chest hair, that trimmed mountain-man beard, those tusked lips, the broken swollen nose, the green eyes… And further ahead, that tightly attached hair in a ponytail. The King looked gorgeous and intense. Yet, despite the evident martial aura he possessed, he smiled.

And Ol’ gulped: “Ol… Ollie, My King. But people call me Ol’. Sir.”

“Ollie. A peculiar name,” commented Urvag. “Guards. Ol’ will be my guest. Please, get him a proper garp! And you must answer his orders!”

“Wait! What?” exploded Ol’, jumping on his feet, only to feel a firm metal hand press his shoulder.

“Please, sir,” said a low voice, altered by the Guard's helmet. “Follow me. I will show you the amenities.”

“WAIT!” continued Ollie, switching to the guard and glancing at those red eyes behind the helmet. Then he returned to Urvag, his mouth agape to the point his tusks no longer rubbed with his skin. “I-… What’s the meaning of this? … My King?”

As his exclamation died down, Ol’ heard hushed whispers around him. Behind him, other petitioners bowed out while he remained still and on his feet.

“Is there a problem with it? Do you need to meet or attend to your family? Are you pressed by time?”

Ol’ recrimination died down. He had thought it absurd. But the King’s smile hadn’t disappeared, though a hint of disappointment could be noticed in those green eyes. And… Well, Ollie had nowhere else to go. His brothers were enough for his Father.

“No, my King. This… Was just my surprise at your offer,” mumbled Ollie, lowering his head.

“Bah! It happens! Go on!” retorted Urvag. By raising his gaze a little, it was possible for the Farmer to notice the King handwaving the affront away, much to the court and petitioners’ surprise; Ollie among the firsts.

Yet, the Farmer no longer resisted the hand over his shoulder and followed along, guided to a discrete door on the left, concealed behind a statue. Despite his initial fear and surprise, Ol’ wasn’t guided towards a gloomy part of the castle to be imprisoned. Far the opposite, he was led from antechambers to antechambers, to corridors to corridors. Each step in his progression brought along more gold along the cornice, more oiled furniture by his left and right, and more paintings of the King in bucolic pastures.

He even pinched himself as he was directed to a little boudoir, directed to sit and enjoy the petits-fours disposed on the table before him while waiting.

For whom? He didn’t care when he stuffed his mouth with those canapes filled with sour cream and zucchini; it was egregiously good. Same as those filled with a cheese whose taste was stronger than the typical goat cheese he sold to the market.

Then, as he was sucking on his fingers, someone entered the boudoir and made him jump. Not the King, but an orc woman with multiple reels at her belt and a measuring tape in her hand.

She spoke… Or at least Ol’ assumed as he was dragged in a whirlwind. His arms gripped, he was forced to take postures, lift his arms and legs, stay still, nod to one color, nod to another. His head swirled with words like silk, satin, velvet, and more!

By the time she was done with his measures, he felt like his head was about to burst with a whole new world of clothes and outfits, far beyond hemp and overpriced wool.

“The King’s table is ready. We’ll have to clean our guest,” butted in another Guard entering the room as Ol’ had been stripped of his attire, making him a whimpering mess as he suddenly grabbed his shirt to cover his modesty. But that nudity didn’t bother the guard as much as he looked at the pouting seamstress.

“Fine! But if I have to redo his clothes, I’ll need his opinion on the fabric!” she shouted while Ollie was dragged away.

“Is… This normal?” he asked, still his shirt held against his nethers while following the Guard. It… He wasn’t certain. Everything started to feel odd. Being naked in a King’s castle, dogging a guard while among servants. His dark green skin was flushed around his cheeks, giving them a brownish hue… Much different from the sparkling red hair over his head, cut short or peppering his chest. As for his mouth, he tried not to purl his lips, but it was hard.

“It’s expected. You need new clothes, but it will take up time for our seamstress. In the meantime, we’ll have you cleaned up.”

Cleaned up… Well, Ol’ had been expecting a bathtub and to have a brush to scrub himself. Again, his entire world shattered when he was welcomed by a world of young ladies, as scantily clad as he was, dragging him to the many baths and stations where they worked.

“What a handsome lad!”

“Look at that jaw! He’s a stud!”

“We’ll need to prepare him!”

They shouted to another, uncaring if he peeped at their parts, though he didn’t, and forced him to endure the treatment. Brushing hair and teeth, tusk anointment, beard trimming, careful hair removal above his brows, oil rubbing, pumice stone against his feet.

It was a torture. A hell-hole.

Yet… As Ol’ looked at himself through the mirror standing in the dining room, which was bigger than his house, he was stunned. His hair and beard had been oiled, giving him a sleek look. The dirt sticking to his cheeks and face had been removed, putting forth his strong cheekbones with an even stronger jaw. At least, the lack of fat and round cheeks gave him a slightly military appearance, if not for his open and joyful eyes, which were not yet affected by the natural Farmer squint. By all accounts, he could have been a young and handsome soldier, and his clean dentition brought along a charming smile he offered to himself while he glanced down.

His stature was… Well, sticking to that image, he had managed to take a towel to wrap it around his waist. But his lean stature with dry muscles was… Nice looking. His shoulders were square and powerful from carrying and lifting all day, his arms bulging with each movement. He wanted to say he looked better; he looked… Good. But almost naked.

“Ah! The ladies had a turn with you? How do you feel, Son?”

“I am good. I don’t have my clothes yet, my K…Ing,” Ol’ nearly shouted as he turned. He expected Urvag to be even more regal and to have an attire that would have cost three years of the Farm’s benefits, at least. And… In a way, Urvag had managed to meet those expectations… And not.

Ollie had been feeling naked, strutting around with solely a towel around his waist. But Urvag was positively naked and yet smiling, unabashed. As heard by his laughter when noticing his guest’s slacking jaw; unsurprised by it, too.

And for reasons. Urvag was handsome, yes. His body was that of a military man who finally enjoyed the pleasure of life: his muscles had a slight flab that made them rounder and more welcoming. Like so, his body was devoid of any gold ring or collars. However, he bore gold and jewelry... all around his jewels.

Jewels which dwarfed the bulge Ol’ had noticed before.

“How cou-“ started Ol’ though he had too many questions in mind.

How could his King have hidden such massive genitals?

How could he walk with those beanbags he possessed instead of testicles?

How could he keep his balance with that mace of a cock swinging with each step?

How could he smell so good despite the precum dripping from his covered cockhead, the foreskin wrinkling, onto the ground into little puddles?

Ollie felt a boner pop between his legs, concealed beneath the towel, as he couldn’t tire of seeing the dark-green scrotum being dragged between the King’s legs, forcing the Orc to take careful steps with a wide stance. The skin on it was peppered with that brown hair, but also with a ladder composed of gold piercings, at least a dozen or even twenties following the raphe, tracing the long line from the testicles’ underside to the cock’s base.

Then, as the ladder went up, so it continued. But that time, it looked to be the double of those over the scrotum as they went up and followed the penis’ underside, clinging with each movement until they reached… Yes, the cockhead. And with it, the assuredly-golden bead, almost as big as a fist, bulging from beneath the foreskin. He… Urvag was hung. No, a monster because if he was considered hung, anyone else in the Kingdom had a dicklet or a clit in comparison.

And he wasn’t ashamed of exposing it.

“How I hid it? I have a court mage ready for a public appearance! Nobody wants to see his King sitting on his balls!”

“Wait! You-“

“No! Not for requests! It’s too long, and I’d be so horny I’d spray the crowd!”

Urvag’s seemed boastful, even going as far as to smack his heavy testicles. And yet, Ol’ was confident this could happen. Even the idea of it made his erection… Worse. Enough for him to push it down with his hand.

“But let’s not talk sex! I see, Son, you’re getting excited at the view!” added Urvag; similarly, he gave Ol’ sides the elbow while chuckling. But then, satisfied to see the younger Orc’s burning face, he stepped away, beckoning his guest to follow him at the table, to two chairs put near the table’s end: one fit for the king with little pillows placed before the chair. And one for Ollie, simple and at the big man's right.

“But… Why did you invite me? And… Is this real?” asked Ol’, pinching himself while sitting… And restraining the drool that threatened to drip from his mouth. That feast was… Ludicrous. Yet, the scent he perfumed made him hungry. The farm wasn’t rich, and such aromas were strong yet appetizing!

“We won’t talk business yet!” chuckled Urvag as he sat… He pointed to a roasted chicken place on the right of Ollie. “Give it a try; there’s no condition.”

Stunned… A bit. Ollie still reached for the roast, pulled off a wing from the side, and… Bit it. Instantly, the juice and flavor pressed into his mouth, turning his hunger into a frenzy. The slight saltiness, the herbs enhancing the meat’s taste, the juice dripping over his mouth while spreading that intense flavor. His eyes widened before the King who… Merely invited him, with a waving hand, to taste the rest.

That was... a feast. The young Orc enjoyed it, biting into everything that had been set and sampling wines without feeling drunk. By the end of it, with the King’s approval and mirthful laugh, the young Farmer reclined on the chair while patting his swollen belly.

And burped. An important burp.

“I… I am so full, my King,” moaned Ollie. He sighed, feeling the taste of every meal at the tip of his tongue. Yet, he also experienced the sourness that if he got home, it would be back to the same gruel. He closed his eyes.

“I see that. My my. I have never seen one of my ministers or nobles act so hungry. You’re refreshing,” said Urvag, leaning forward, his chin resting on his hands.

“I… I am sorry, My King,” started Ollie. “If I acted out like-“

“Don’t be afraid. This was all for you. Usually, I keep myself to simple meals,” said Urvag as he clapped. Instantly, an army of servants appeared from behind the doors. Orcs, mainly, but also a few humans, minotaurs, and more. All were working on tidying the table, removing the meals, and replacing it with a plate of cheese and a few fruits, all placed before the King and Ollie. That. As well as a flask, a blue brew held in a crystalline vial. One Ollie eyed then returned to the King, who peeled a yellow fruit, revealing an almost whiteish and “phallic” inside.

“What’s this?” asked the Farmer, pointing at the vial.

“This? Oh, Son. That’s the topic of your presence, here. But for now,” added the King before he munched a part of the fruit… Then presented it to Ollie. “Taste it. And tell me more about yourself.”

Ollie watched the phallic part, bitten. But as he glanced up, he felt he had no choice but to lean on and take a bite. The flavor was rich, and sweet, melting on his tongue with a slight tangy touch.

He munched it, despite the blood rushing to his cheeks. He, then, gulped it down.

“I… I am from the Eastern Marches; my entire family hails there.”

“Your whole family? But you asked for lands without indicating you wanted them from the Eastern Marches? Won’t they give you a part?”

Ollie… had forgotten. He could’ve asked for a plot right by his Family’s lands, but the idea seemed egregious now.

“We’re a poor family. My father… He won our plot during the last conquest in your name, my Liege. But it isn’t enough for all my brothers. I am the youngest, the runt…” mumbled Ol’, looking down.

“You look like no runt to me. Ollie. But I’m curious about your name. It’s not a typical Orcish name, furthermore with your father who had fought humans during the war.”

“It’s… It’s a sad story. My father was wounded, but a human saved him. A generous human who shared everything he had with him. My father kept telling me stories they exchanged, such as how that human was a wyvern hunter who had no interest in the war and lived too far in the mountains to care. But after the war, my father found his house burnt down. We don’t know what happened to him… But when my Father came back and had me with my mother, he named me after him. Ollie.”

“It’s... sad. Indeed,” added Urvag, looking at the flask, too. I shouldn’t have asked this.”

“Oh, it doesn’t hurt me, my King!” added Ollie. “I haven’t met him. It’s fine!”

“I guessed it. But it’s a poor introduction for what I planned for us.”

Ollie’s brows lifted as he looked at Urvag and then at the vial. The blue liquid was strange. Without thinking, the young Orc approached it and touched the surface.

“Is this part of it?” asked Ollie, finding the crystal cold.

The King nodded, inviting his guest to approach with a movement. Again... and again, until Ollie had no choice but to approach. One step, another. Then, he was by the King, by the chair... and suddenly pulled, his towel removed.

“Wha-!” cried Ollie, finding those rough, calloused hands going over his ass and thighs… Until he was put, like a child, on the King’s lap. His left leg was… Right by those enormous and churning testicles. All the while, Urvag’s warm skin was pressed against his cheeks.

“My- My liege,” mumbled Ol’. “What… Are you doing? This is… Indecent.”

“Ollie, don’t lie to your King. You were excited seeing me, and you’re even more excited now. Go on. Give it a feel.”

Indeed was Ollie erect, his cock hard like steel and pointing up. Urvag was… With the hottest man he’d seen in his life. And with genitals that were so big, that was absurd. He reached, gulping and sweating, extended a hand… He barely believed it was real. Yet, when he found that throbbing cock, veiny, by his fingertip, he knew it was true. His King was a monster of a man, a stud with a dick so large it was a bounty. And he stroked it, unable to tell more. He watched the precum drip and drop right by a channel below the table. Yet, he felt… Hungry.

“You are not prepared for this. You cannot take me,” said Urvag, as if reading Ollie’s mind.

“I’m sorry, my King. I’m… So… I’ve never seen someone so big, so… Massive.”

“So well endowed? What if you were?”

Ollie blinked. He blushed when he felt the King’s hands over his waist, going around it. Before it landed on his cock and balls. Ollie felt puny and small, feeling those big rough hands handling his bits and erect cock. Compared to his King, his testicles were little nuts you’d found a bit south… As for his cock? It was less than an eighth of its length. So small, it was… Invisible. Nonetheless, he moaned when the King’s thumb brushed his cocktip.

“I- Hmphh-“ moaned Ollie, a precum dripping from his cock much like his King’s. He… Wanted to worship that man, to please him. “I… Wish I could.”

“The vial,” pointed Urvag, enjoining Ollie to lean and grab it. “That’s my proposal. If you drink-“

Before Urvag could utter anything else, Ollie uncorked the vial and emptied it. All. He didn’t follow any order, except his lust, as he felt the cold liquid drop into his stomach. And warm-up.

The liquid warmed up and, soon, its entire heat spread across his belly and around. He felt its draw, its power… And the energy that poured into his underbelly like a fiery torrent.

“You drank it whole without me asking you to!” laughed Urvag, still massaging and stroking Ollie’s cock, his movements quick yet delicate when pulling on the Farmer’s foreskin.

“You wanted to, that’s all? No?”

“Not exactly. If you were listening, you’d learn you would be prepared to take me and given a proper cock… One bigger than the little one you have,” chuckled Urvag. “But you’d become my slave. My toy when I’m too needy to use my sole hands.”

“That’s fine.”

Ollie shrugged, much to the King’s dismay… And then amusement as he chuckled and leaned, pressing his lips against Ollie’s neck to kiss it, breathe against it, and whisper. “That’s fine. You’ll be my toy, Ollie. A precious toy.”

A toy that was toyed with, massaged, and stroked. Those fingers danced up and down along the small length, the little finger even scratching Ollie’s walnut-sized testicles as he sensed the heat spread down and… Rise.

He looked down, feeling his cock that was about to burst. The heat, the warmth. He sighed, feeling the throb amplify the King’s touch. He was stiff, rigid, and about to explode. But it wasn’t there yet. Wasn’t everything until he… Saw it. That time, as he throbbed, he felt something: the King’s contact became more intense and constraining. His cockhead looked a tad bigger, and as Urvag released his hand, Ollie noted how he was… Thicker.

“Oh… Spirits,” moaned the Farmer, feeling the King’s returning to stroking it until… yes. Another throb. Another spark of pleasure which made Ollie feel like he came, yet didn’t. And his cock was getting bigger. And bigger. Steadily.

“Don’t worry. Soon, you’ll have a proper cock. Not a cocklet, toy,” breathed the King, nibbling at the ear.

“Yes, sir… A true cock for… You,” groaned Ollie as he sensed that throb and pleasure peak. Only… Only for the peak to suddenly drop, and so was his pleasure. He gasped. He looked down. He noticed… His cock was bigger, almost one foot now, almost a seventh of the King’s mast. But nothing close. But way bigger. From it dripped his cum, white and thick as it dropped onto some pillows and into the channel, much like the King’s cock, which was almost hard.

“Hah… Can I?”

“I was about to order you,” said Urvag as he let Ollie drop from the lap, releasing his grip and permitting him to slip under the table.

Beneath, the King’s smell was intense and raw. But far more enticing for the young Farmer. His lips opened, and his mouth advanced. And without going as far as trying to take such mastodon in his mouth, the young Farmer started to suckle his King’s urethra, swallowing the fluids while his hands danced over the piercing ladder on the underside. The gold was rich and heavy. But heavier was the cock that weighed on the Farmer’s hands as he kept it in balance while swallowing that tar-like semen. And enjoyed it. It had a taste; it had a texture, and it had a balance to it. It could be compared to a sauce, to a soup, to anything that was fluid yet filling, filling his stomach.

“This will be your place from now on, Ollie. Unless I ask you not to, or order you… My cock will be your sole purpose in life. You’re no longer a farmer. You’re mine, got it?”

Ollie’s ears burned at those words. But he felt… Again popping a boner and so, he nodded for a moment as he released his King’s cock. Until he felt Urvag’s firm hand push him back against the cockhead.

The King came, but it was a droplet from the vast ocean that was his testicles. But he came, his chunky and dense cum pouring into Ollie’s mouth like a second meal, one for him, only for him. One, he gulped with rolling eyes until his belly seemed positively swollen. Until his King… His Master allowed him to pop free and have respite.

This was the first night with his Liege, the first moment that anchored Ol’s new lifestyle in the castle. Toiling the ground? Working the field? Handling the beasts? After sending a message to his family to explain he had found a job in the capital, Ollie found himself lighter… Better… Freer than all those years as a farmer. Even as he wore a leather collar around his neck, a yoke he bore with a grin and tenderly stroked from time to time as his routine was slowly etched within his mind.

Each morning, he woke up before his King, sleeping with him or in a private room destined for servants. He ensured the Kingly morning wood was tended to before it made a mess of the sheets. Then, if he remained hungry, he would share breakfast with Urvag, with a few laughs and stories from the endless well that was the King.

Once done… Well, he had a few options: either he would have to follow Urvag on all fours like a pet, attend ceremonies with him and just as naked, or meet the apothecaries working on changing Ol’s body.

With each day and each concoction they gave him, his body changed and adapted. Foremost was his cock and testicles that grew and grew. Long gone were his little inches as his cockhead dropped past his knees, then way beyond. With those changes, he found his libido increasing as his testicles were constantly churning and his prostate swollen with needs. But with those, he discovered his improved stamina, his strength, and also his… Flexibility. It was something to be tempted about taking the King’s dick. It was something else to have his ass fisted by Orcs of all kinds who noted the details while testing his asshole until it took a rosy tint and swollen shape; a rose the King would call it while lovingly fingering it, a rose that Urvag would take and only him.

A rose the King didn’t stop to play and toy with as much as Ol’s cock, teasing the “smaller” farmer as they explored each other and found… Satisfaction. Love would even the younger Farmer say as he noticed the joy Urvag had in his eyes whenever they found themselves wandering the castle for their tasks.

Lust when they were alone behind closed doors.

And Malice… When he asked the worst of Ollie, egged him on.

“Do it. I know you want it,” Urvag nudged with a slight grin. His fingers were enraptured in their dance over Ollie’s plump and hairy cheeks before they gave the leash a firm tug, a reminder, and an order for Ol’ to step forward and away.

“Y-Yes, Sir,” nodded Ollie, so flushed his green face took a brown hue. Yet, he followed the order. He followed as his hands danced over his cock, now at three feet. It was but half of Urvag’s length. Again, small… But impressive for anyone else. Only less than a half, with testicles that had grown and stretched his anointed scrotum. He didn’t feel light-headed anymore… He was even thinking more clearly, now, that he was able to sport such a potent erection.

One he stroked, beginning by the tip. Massive, large, yet dwarfed by Urvag, the bulbous end had been fitted with a piercing. A large golden ring that bulged under the foreskin when Ollie was flaccid. But glimmering like a second sun with an enormous diamond at the tip. A gift and something that would be the right fit once Ol’ reached his definitive size.

Ol’s fingers danced over the ring, feeling its weight… Yet, didn’t feel bothered by the sheer tug it represented on his cock. No, it was a gift.

One as much as the collar around his neck, the tuggings following his King’s whims. Or the leather harness wrapped around his fit chest, something that presented him as a pet and a sexual toy.

They were all part of him now, as much as the piercings. Plural. Those over the nipples. The Prince Albert at his cocktip. And the ladder along his length he kept stroking and massaging, pushing backward while having his King’s cock pressing against his asshole. He couldn’t take him entirely, not yet. But sensing that fat and enormous cockhead press between his cheeks, slathering them with cum and… Ushering more within his fat rim was a delight. A pleasure Ol’ embraced while he stroked himself and took another step back.

Urvag’s cockhead was thick. So… Thick. It was apparent that taking it was unnatural, but the Apothecaries had been working day and night, so he could take it. And as Ollie’s rim opened, swallowing the cockhead, he moaned. It didn’t hurt anymore, not that part. He only felt pleasure when that tip was barely inside, the corona almost slipping inside and “knotting” him. But already did he feel his oversized prostate brushed and teased, tapped even by the King’s prince Albert, eliciting a jolt through his three feet cock. He… Stroked it and passed a finger along the three new golden bars added to the ladder. He sighed as cum started to pour from his urethra and right onto his watermelon-sized nuts. Drop by drop, his sticky and dense cum fell onto his genitalia until the flow descended, dropped once more right into the funnel recently installed in the throne room.

“You want my cockhead entirely inside, Son?” asked Urvag, his voice rough, controlled, but mirthful. He wasn’t fully hard, he wasn’t fully excited, yet he was… Perfectly fitting.

“Ye-Yes, Sir. I want it inside; I want to cum,” moaned Ollie as he sighed and felt another tug on the leash. Urvag couldn’t reach him, but the leash did. And it ordered, pressed, forced Ollie to take another step back and… Yes, to have that corona slip inside. The bulbous head was so wide, once inside, it produced the same effect as a plug or a knot; it kept Urvag’s cock firmly set in unless Ollie forced it out.

But the farmer didn’t. He merely moaned, sensing his King’s throb hit his lovely sensitive spot. With each pulse, shivers coursed through the young Orc, and his smile, his desire, and his lust grew wider while he glanced at the crowd.

“Do it, Son. Cum for your King,” enjoined Urvag as he gave another tug while Ollie’s eyes settled on the crowd. On the court. Nobles, merchants, peasants. They were all there in the bustling room. They were muttering to themselves, groaning, grunting, asking why the King wasn’t there yet. Unaware of what happened on the other side of the illusion.

They couldn’t see Ol’s bulging underbelly, nor his humongous cock, his churning and heavy nuts, nor his hand… As he gripped, fingered, and stretched his urethra with a cry.

Ollie’s prostate contracted, given the final hit through one bold step from Ollie. And a flow of semen spewed out. White, dense, thick, steaming hot. It flowed up and forward until it dropped right into the channels leading back to the funnel. He cried and moaned, with tears in the corner of his eyes, while he was given an orgasm. The most wondrous and intense orgasm he had felt… Yet. One he could only thank his King for as he turned his head towards him, and saw Urvag smile.

He turned again to the crowd, watching some inhale and grimace at the musky waft coming their way. Some happily filled their lungs with it. Others were indifferent… And for the unlucky few in front, they seemed to have been splashed by a few droplets they whipped while looking around to see who had sprayed them with “milk”. He should be ashamed, but he only felt lust at the sight.

“Good work, Son. Tonight… I’ll stuff you like a turkey.”

A promise Ollie felt in his beating heart, and his swelling guts. His King was always so profuse, and only a mere moment inside had already given Ollie a love bump he stroked while he grabbed his asscheeks, pulled on it, and… Managed to pull Urvag out. He sighed, feeling the cum pouring from his asshole into the channel, a ceaseless fountain, much like Urvag’s urethra.

A urethra Ollie never tired of loving, stroking, nudging, or nursing. As the days passed and Ol’s growth continued, so did his love and desires for his King, whom he saw closer to a master by the second. They might have been a Master and a Slave in their contract. But it wasn’t a position of power Urvag abused. It was solely a firm hand needed to guide the Farmer in his life. To help him grasp… his desires. His potential.

Urvag taught him about politics, mathematics, and literature. Somehow, the conquering King was a polymath as much as a loving pervert. And many a night would they be together, with Urvag reading for the dilettante Ollie, regaling him with a knowledge a Farmer couldn’t even hope to gain. Dragons? Monsters? Magic? Enchanted cities? It sounded far-fetched for a man too busy toiling the ground. But not… For an orc whose love had a beast between his legs.

Not when he, himself, was given, through science and magic, a body fitting their desires.

As the days became weeks, then months, Ollie wasn’t merely a toy but a confident partner—always with a speck of perversion—and someone who was starting to get as hung as Urvag.

“How do you feel?” suddenly prodded Urvag as his gaze slipped away from a biology compendium towards Ol’.

The young Farmer, his mouth still firmly latched around Urvag’s cockhead, raised an eyebrow but released the dripping and leaking orifice without even releasing his grip over his King’s cock or pushing his head away. After all, his leash had been tightly attached at the King’s Prince Albert. With so many knots and twists, Ollie couldn't pull back… So, instead, he pressed his left cheek against his King’s cockhead, as the most comfortable position, and smiled.

“I feel good. But what about you? You seem preoccupied?”

“I have the results from the apothecaries.”

“Ah.”

The subject instantly soured Ol’s mood. Not that he had poorly done himself, he had done everything to help them, even going as far as to subject himself to injections and a brutal regimen. But… It was clear that after weeks of growth, he was stagnating. He couldn’t grow any bigger.

He wasn’t at Urvag’s level and couldn’t be. Would never be. A kind of shame he had when they still compared dicks: Urvag remained the biggest… Whereas Ollie was at two-thirds, maybe more… But again, when they frotted and compared, he remained the smallest. The punniest… The one with a shameful cock. And his testicles? Well, they were but half of Urvag’s volume.

“I... am sorry I cannot be any bigger,” said the Farmer, watching Urvag bend and groan… Then he pointed at the leash until Ollie undid the knot before his King’s silent eyes. Once the leash was free, he offered it to Urvag and… Lowered his eyes.

“Sorry for what? You reached your definitive size,” said Urvag as he moved and shifted his posture. Maybe he wanted to leave the bed. Would he have another farmer for him? Would he be trying with another subject? Just the thought made Ollie hurt. He sighed, about to turn his head away until he felt it—a tug.

“What is it? Are you not in the mood?”

Ol’ raised his eyes and looked up at the King. At Urvag. He was on all fours before Ollie, with his backside presented at the Farmer. Much like the remain of his body, his ass was plump with a layer of fat over it. It was wondrous, sexy, beautiful… And those cheeks naturally spread to uncover that sweat-caked crevice and the hair dwelling in between.

That rim, black-green, winked back at Ol’, who glanced at it… Then at Urvag’s grin.

“Ready for your first Rodeo, Son?”

Ol’ didn’t answer through words but a nod, his face burning bright. He was about to take his king, to take him, to force himself within that ass. His cock was already so big, so wide, so large. It was almost as big as the old Orc. And yet, nearly two-thirds of what Urvag possessed.

Should his king be afraid? Be prepared? Be-

A tug.

It was a tug that yanked Ollie back to reality and the moment. He gasped, then looked down at his cock, so massive and heavy. He gulped and held it from below, lifted it through the strength he now possessed. With his knees, he dragged himself and his testicles until he had his cock tip pressing against Urvag’s asshole and… He gasped again.

Urvag’s hole opened, with ease even. Whatever the King had done to prepare himself, it worked as that rim opened and sucked on Ollie’s hole. It grabbed his cockhead, and pressed on it from both sides as inches were fed into it. Urvag was… Warm. Silky. Delicious. And Ollie enjoyed all the details while his prostate, contracting along his pulse, sent spurts and spurts of precum right into that hole: to fill it and to warm it up.

“Go on. You can do it, Ollie. Please your King,” growled Urvag with a smile, still yanking on the leash until Ollie’s legs moved faster.

“Yes! Yes, Sir!” cried along the Farmer.

With renewed energy, Ollie advanced faster. His knees danced over the sheets, covered with sweat and sometimes precum. But as he advanced, he found them more and more drenched… And the more he advanced, the more excited he was. His cock was wonderfully massaged and squeezed, held in a vice grip that wouldn’t allow any pullback from the farmer. That ass… That asshole was spread and open so wide the rim had started to disappear, instead forming a ring of a dark coloration from blood rushing to it along Ollie’s oversized cock. But there was no sign of rejection…

He… It wasn’t Ol’s first experience. He had a few with other orcs; he had even managed to take one, though the experience had been pitiful and disappointing for both.

Now? As Ollie’s hands landed on his King’s plump backside, even though he had to bend over, he was… In heaven. He loved every second of it, of that slow penetration. He closed his eyes. He listened to the heaving breath Urvag had, surely that taking a dick almost as long as your torso was something not everyone could do. Not everyone would attempt to.

Then, he breathed in: followed the King’s masculine and powerful scent, with a hint of a discreet perfume mixing with the Orc’s musk. His fingers dug in, feeling the tensions and slight shocks coursing through the older Man’s backside. He planted his thumbs between the cheeks, spreading them further as he brushed the hairy passage. Beneath his digits, the hair was pushed from one side to another, and his fingertips neared the rim itself.

“Enjoying yourself, Son?” asked Urvag with a hint of a laugh in his voice. His attitude was dismissive despite the noticeable bulge he sported. His belly was utterly reshaped by Ollie’s cock, the cockhead right under the skin if one was to touch it. Urvag’s apothecaries were no pushovers. Despite the cock’s prominence, the King wasn’t bothered or in pain from his guts being so outstretched and abused. Rather, he laughed and heaved, his breath shortened by the pressure, but again, no pain.

“Y- Yes! Your… Your ass is good, sir,” moaned Ol’, his digits starting to clench and massage the cheeks, kneading them like mounds of dough. He chuckled to himself, a bit, at the image. At the joke.

“Is something funny?” huffed Urvag, tugging on the leash and forcing Ol’ to take a few more steps. That time, more than half of his length was inside and… Well, despite his King’s clenched butthole, precum and cum dripped alike from the strained orifice. There was no way to plug that hole correctly.

“Sorry. I just thought I was… Kneading the royal Buns,” said Ol’, red-faced. And furthermore, when Urvag laughed. A laugh so sudden it was followed by a sudden clenching around Ol’ cock. A clenching that went along a tug.

“Go-od toy. You’re such a goofball,” added Urvag.

“Sorry for being such a-HRMPH!”

Before Ollie could finish his sentence, he gritted his teeth. He gritted his teeth while he sensed the King’s backside suddenly trust back. But it wasn’t from his doing. No… In one moment, Urvag suddenly pushed his posterior back until Ollie felt his cocktip hitting what would be the final frontier, the las sphincter he couldn’t push through, even though he desired it. He felt its presence as a warning despite his cocktip battering against it for a second.

Then, as the sensation struck the Farmer, it disappeared.

With a wet suction noise, Ollie watched his King pull back and release the pressure all over the oversized cock. Then, Ollie noticed how Urvag was using his beanbags of balls as support while he employed one hand and two legs to impale himself. A perilous balance, yet so delicious when Ollie felt the Orc’s backside go back… And his Dick hilting up to three-quarters within. He cried, he moaned, saliva dripping from his open mouth while he heard and watched his King back in action.

“Don’t… you dare to move, Son,” ordered Urvag with a growl, one potent and low. One… Aggressive as he was happily squeezing his nuts and his prostate in the same go.

“I wouldn’t dare,” would have said Ollie if he could.

Instead, only a gargle escaped his throat as he was used as a mere dildo by his King. With his knees spread, he had to anchor and stabilize his posture by holding his King’s plump backside. But as he did so, he sensed and anticipated every movement.

His King clenched his buttocks? It was to pull back, to give Ollie a firm squeeze until the Farmer was left breathless from the sudden tug on his cock.

His King opened his legs? It was to push back while weighing on his testicles, pressuring them until more precum dripped from that regal cock.

Ollie wasn’t confident he could do what Urvag could at that moment. But at the same time, concentration and thought vanished from the younger Orc. His cock was embraced, kissed, and lovingly stroked by his King’s inner walls, which moved in unison. From the abuse and brutal thrust, his prostate seemed to grow in size and pressure. With each pull back, a spark seemed to form both at his cocktip and the base. Two sparks whose size increased despite his constant ejaculation. He was cumming, constantly cumming… But such an orgasm?

He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, his body shivering while notions disappeared. It felt good, it would feel good, everything was good. Little tears streaked across his face from the abandon and pleasure he experienced. His fingers dug deeper within the Royal posterior. He held on tight, as if losing touch was to lose the pleasure, the instant, the satisfaction.

He held on and leaned forward when his King tugged and ordered. What words? He didn’t hear them, but he bent nonetheless, grabbing Urvag and pulling along until his cocktip was back at the sphincter.

Then he pushed, straightening his back until he almost had to sit on his testicles, too, and squeeze them. Squeeze them and force more cum within his Liege, his King, his Master. He sighed, the sparks growing so big they were encompassing all his cock, almost touching… Almost reaching.

“Hhh… I-M- I’m-“ gargled Ollie in an attempt to warn his King. A part of him knew if he came, Urvag would be stuffed and full, almost round like pregnant. Like he had been before. Maybe he would be so stuffed it would have to flow the other way and force the King to “foretaste” that semen.

“GO ON! CUM! CUM FOR ME! SON!” cried Urvag, his voice uproarious and imperative. Unexpected.

And… The sparks joined.

Ollie cried, his nails digging within the hairy flesh while his eyes rolled and he faced the ceiling. For a moment, he humped and smashed his testicles against the mattress while his knees and legs pushed in and out.

He drooled all over himself, overtaken as he was by that sudden and potent orgasm. One… That felt so good he didn’t even notice Urvag releasing the leash or pulling away. He came, he came so much his thoughts were gone. Only the ecstasy as his prostate frantically clenched and clenched, releasing a flow so intense it took… Maybe minutes for it to stop. To go from shots to a mere dripping. And for the orgasm to recede, allowing the sweaty Farmer to observe the results.

The sheets? Covered. The back wall? Repainted in white. The canopy above the bed? Dripping.

Then he glanced at Urvag, who smiled back at him, standing on the bed. The old Orc was still excited and erect, proudly showing off his rounded belly and even going as far as stroking it. He grinned as he approached Ollie, despite the flow of cum pouring behind him.

The King approached, his cock right by Ol’s right cheek and rubbing it. Precum dripped from it, but no such thing as the flow Ollie had displayed but a few minutes ago.

“Good job, Son. But I’m not satisfied. And I’ll ride you until I am,” said Urvag. Both as a threat and a promise as he aligned his gaping butthole with Ollie’s half-hard cock. This night? It was the first time Ollie had experienced someone else’s hole. And given a new perspective on his role… A royal toy.