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Yautja, Prey of Orcs For Ryusuke by Draconicon

Thrown to the ground as the biggest of the green beasts destroyed his helmet, the hunter felt the air driven from his lungs as he rolled to the side. He leaped to his feet, only to be hit in the stomach by a warhammer bigger than his arm, shattering yet another piece of his forefather's equipment. He went flying backwards, hitting the back of his head on one of the wooden buildings around him.

"Mess with the orcs, will you? You won't do it twice! Graaaaah!"

Dodging at the last second to avoid having his head caved in by the warhammer, the hunter lashed out with a kick that swept the green beast's legs out from beneath him. The tusked monster hit the ground hard, but before the hunter could bring his blades to bear, another of their pack pushed him away with a blast of fire, forcing him to backpedal out of the way.

They are strong.

It was one of the few compliments the Yautja could think to give the green pack. Though they were of a size with him - mostly, there were a few that were smaller - the tusked beasts should have been easier to fight. They lacked the weapons of his people, and their experience. They were animals. Powerful, yes, and far from the weak prey some clans chose as their targets, but he had never imagined that they would be this strong.

Certainly, he never thought they could have destroyed his firearms so quickly. No sooner had he emerged than they'd been knocked from his armor, and he'd been forced to fight for his life.

Now, he had his back to a wooden wall, reduced to only his hand-blades for weapons, while the entire pack of green-skins approached.

"You ain't getting out of this stronghold, weakling."

"Should've stayed away."

"Heh, maybe he'll make a nice plaything after we're done with him."

The hunter couldn't stomach their insults. With arms spread wide, he roared, his mandibles separating as he screamed at the top of his lungs. Birds flew, bits of snow was cast away, but the greenskins stood strong.

"I've heard bigger roars from baby dragons, intruder," said the one with the warhammer. "You ain't scaring us away."

No one was frightened. It was inconceivable to the Yautja. As a top predator of the galaxies, to find something in this primitive era that could speak and not be afraid of him felt impossible. He had to show them what he was worth; he had to prove that he was worth fearing.

Raising his blades, he rushed forward, arms outstretched -

"HA!"

And had the blades pinned as the warhammer wielder dodged to the side and brought the weapon down on top of them. With his hands pinned in place, there was no escape for the hunter as a big boot came down on his head, knocking him out.

The hunter woke when something warm, wet, and flat pressed against his face. He groaned, his mandibles clacking a few times before the pressure suddenly increased, making him hiss in rage.

"Finally."

The pressure released, only to come back with a kick to his side. The hunter rolled, lifting his arms to fight -

• Only to realize that his weapons were gone. He looked at his wrists, shocked to see his blades removed. As he continued examining himself, he realized that his armor had been taken as well, put who knew where and exposing every inch of his flesh. Having lived most of his adult life inside of it, having it removed felt...wrong.

He made out something branded on his hip when that pressure shoved him off his feet onto his back. The hunter looked up just in time to see a big green foot press down on his face, pinning him to the ground.

"Let's make a few things clear, monster."

This is...humiliation.

It was strange to have a word to put to it. The word was something that his species had heard from other cultures, other things that weren't worth fighting. It was a word that meant shame, shame caused by someone else stronger than the one that felt it.

It wasn't a word or feeling that any of the Yautja should experience.

"After you slammed your way in here, you're damn lucky the chief didn't want you dead. Most of us did. But you know, our chief? He's a smart guy. Smarter than most of the other chiefs here in Skyrim. And he's decided to put you to a better use."

The greenskin pushed down harder with its foot, grinding the slick underside against the hunter's face. He growled, his mandibles clicking together irritably as he fought the urge to bite the sole.

"You're not a bad fighter. Pathetic against orcs, of course - everyone is - but you ain't bad. And having you as a trophy is better than having you as a dead body to get rid of. So you'll stay here. But just like this. Naked, waiting to be shown off and used whenever someone in the clan wants you."

There is no using of the Yautja. What does he mean?

There was no answer, at least, not initially. The greenskin removed its foot, allowing the hunter to take a breath of air that wasn't tainted by flesh or sweat. He stood up, doing his best to ignore his own nudity as the greenskin turned around.

You never turn your back to a hunter. Now you'll pay.

He gathered himself to leap, but before he could tackle the creature, it turned around, pointing a sword at the hunter's stomach that was almost as big as the warhammer that had shattered his armor. He froze, staring at it.

"Don't even think about fighting your way out. We beat you once, and we'll beat you again if you try. And this time, we ain't stopping at a beating." The greenskin turned around. "You're clan property. We even branded you, so nobody will mess with you unless they want to piss us off."

He looked down at his hip again. Now that he had a moment to look at it again, it did look familiar. Rather like the rough symbol that the greenskin before him had on its belt-buckle and along its armor. It must have been a symbol for the creature's pack, much like his people had symbols for their own people.

Still contemplating that, the hunter was forced out of his thoughts as the small hut they were in was suddenly filled by more of the greenskinned creatures. The warhammer wielder was in the front, and the hunter glared at him, spreading his mandibles angrily.

"Come here."

Ignoring the challenge that the hunter had presented, the greenskin pulled the hunter out of the hut and into the open. The snow covered ground felt much colder to his bare feet, particularly as he was forced to keep running to keep his distance from the approaching creatures as they filed back out of the hut.

He made it perhaps three steps back before a member of the pack he didn't see tripped him, sending him sprawling onto his back. The hunter rolled onto his stomach, but before he could get up, the creatures grabbed him by wrists and ankles, while a fifth member of the pack wrapped a length of rope around his neck, keeping him from snapping out or biting anyone near him.

The warhammer wielder - the one he presumed the other greenskin meant when they said 'chief' - soon stood in front of him. With the warhammer over one shoulder, it looked uncomfortably like an execution assembly back home.

"You, monster, are our property now. That means we can treat you how we want. You understand?"

The Yautja had little else to do but nod.

"That means we'll do whatever we want. And what we want right now is a set of warm holes to use."

Warm holes?

"I know you ain't a female, but that hasn't stopped most of us before. And the rest of us are just desperate enough for a bit of fun that we'll deal with it."

The feeling of the greenskins' hands around his backside, rubbing and spreading his hind cheeks, left the hunter feeling more than a little worried. He had heard of several hunter teams, sent out on long distance patrols, that did things like this. However, he'd never partaken of such activities, and to think that these monsters were going to do this to him now -

He turned back to the chieftain, only to see a massive green length fall past a loincloth, striking against his forehead. His mandibles were close enough to the greenskin's genitals that he might have bitten them off, but he was too shocked to do any such thing. He could only stare in utter bewilderment that this fate had befallen him.

"I don't know how much you understand, monster, but I'm damn sure you understand this."

The chieftain pushed his shaft down, until the tip was between the hunter's mandibles, right before his mouth.

"If I feel anything but a warm mouth and a tight throat, I'm going to beat you into the snow. So no teeth."

With a harsh thrust, the chief's cock was quickly buried deep in the hunter's throat. He gagged around it, his tight throat barely able to take the feeling of being so widely spread by the green length. It was harsh and rough, forcing him to swallow hard and fast to keep it from gagging him and choking him completely. He closed his eyes, his mandibles scraping against the greenskin's legs as he was forced down to the base of the shaft, his throat clenching down hard on it, and making the creature moan in return.

It was not the worst of it. Slick tongues ran over the hole between his rump cheeks, forcing it to relax with each lick and leaving it feeling slimy and slick. The hunter forced himself not to bite down, knowing his fate if he were to do it, but he wanted to in order to ignore the feelings it left in him. Feelings of humiliation, of being weak, of being forced to submit. All of it added up to something no Yautja should feel for anything but another Yautja.

Lust.

Being beaten was the only way a Yautja would submit to another, and having been beaten twice by these creatures, the hunter felt his body responding. His shaft slithered upwards, growing hard and strong, while his body heated up in preparation of what was to come. He gagged and panted on the shaft sliding down his throat, and his hole took the lickings and begged for more.

As he received it in the form of a hard cock pushing against it, the hunter groaned. His fate was sealed; until he could find a way to defeat them, he was nothing more, and nothing less, than their possession.

The End