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[b][u][center]The Orc of Transformation

for Nataraj

by Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Mug grunted as he walked down the hallways of the fort, the orc scratching at his stomach as he looked around at some of the bandits that filled the place. It was so fucking busy, and so fucking cramped. Everywhere he looked, there was some damn human – or worse, an elf – looking at him like some sort of freak. Hell, they had no right for that. They were the freaks, with those pointy ears and those weak arms.

He grumbled, shaking his head a few times as he passed by one of the barracks rooms. The only people that looked at him like anything but a freak were a couple soldiers that had smirks on their faces. He had no freaking clue what that was about, but he knew he didn’t like it one bit. If people thought he was a freak, Mug could deal with that, after a while. People thinking that they were better than him? That was something he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, take.

Shaking his head again, he started heading towards the armory, but stopped as his stomach started rumbling. He reached down, rubbing his hand over the leather armor barely encasing his gut, and chuckled.

“Food, then headcracking.”

He turned on his heel – literally, as no boots in the armory had been found big enough to fit him – and started walking back the way he’d come. One of the bandits stepped out of their rooms, but he shoved his way past. There was a brief shout behind him, but all Mug had to do was look over his shoulder, and the bandit shut up right quick.

After all, nobody wanted to fight an orc one on one.

It took him nearly ten minutes to walk from the barracks down to the kitchen, and by the time he’d got there, everyone else had already gone. Fed shortly after sundown, the various bandits had already left, with only the cook left working on the pots. Mug walked up behind the smaller human, and slapped a meaty hand down on his shoulder.

“Hey. Hungry.”

“You should have been here with the rest of the men.”

“Hungry now. Mug needs feeding.”

“Yeah, well –”

“MUG HUNGRY!”

With a grunt, he yanked the human away from the pot, throwing him across the kitchen. The cook hit the wall with a grunt, and Mug vaguely heard the sound of glass tinkling as it fell and broke on who knew what. He didn’t care. What he wanted was food, and there was a huge pot of it in front of him now.

Or…not so big. The green-skinned grumbler groaned as he looked into the nearly-empty pot. The bottom was filled with the dregs of a stew, with blackened bits in it that had been swirling around near the bottom for too long. Even that wouldn’t have been so bad, but the cook had already started pouring water in it to scrape it clean. Everything was cold, and it looked absolutely terrible.

“Aahhhhhhh. No fair…”

“Divines…you have –”

Mug rounded on the cook, glaring at him. The human had already gotten back to his feet, though he was covered in a ton of different ingredients. The orc vaguely recognized some of them as alchemical ingredients, but he had no idea what they were. He had no mind for that, and he…

There was a part of him that almost recognized some of it, but it was gone before he could tell what it was. And besides, it wasn’t important. What was important was that the human was still whining about being knocked around. Mug could take whining for a bit – hell, he could whine with the best of them, if he was going without food or drink – but the orc rapidly tired of the human’s nasally voice.

So he threw the pot across the room as he stomped over to the human. The pot flew over the cook’s head – though only barely – but Mug was in front of him right away. He shoved the human to the ground.

“Make more food!”

“Have you gone crazy?! Let me up.”

Groaning as his stomach continued to gurgle, Mug stomped his feet on the ground in desperation. The sheer force of each stomp caused more of the ingredients on the shelves to rattle around, and some of them fell down on top of the cook again. This time, it landed not just all over his tunic, but also over his face.

Mug shouted at the top of his lungs and brought one of his big, green feet down on top of the human’s ace, grinding it against his nose and his mouth.

“You make food now!”

“Mmph! Mm mmmph!”

“FOOD!”

He stomped on the human’s face, not quite as hard as he had on the ground, but enough that the human started groaning and whimpering. The orc barely cared; the cook might be someone that he needed to keep around for food, but he was getting upset. And he was the potionmaster’s best friend, wasn’t he? He had to be fed, and he had to be fed now!

After a minute, he pulled his foot back when he felt something slimy against the bottom of his foot. Mug thought that he might have stepped on some squishy ingredient, but instead, all he could see was the green-smeared face of the cook on the floor, and…something on his foot. He couldn’t tell what; it was clear and shimmery, though, and he felt like he should know what it was. He remembered seeing it before, and not that long ago, either.

But he didn’t have a chance to think about that for long. When he looked back down at the cook, he saw something else that didn’t quite match. Sticking out from the cook’s lower lip was a pair of tusks. And they were definitely tusks, not something that had gotten caught; Mug had gotten that mixed up before, and the potionmaster had been very good about helping him figure out the difference for later. He leaned down, putting a finger to his chin as he looked the cook over.

“What this?”

“Mug…”

“What?”

“Mug…feed…feet!”

“Feed feet?”

The orc lifted his foot, holding over the cook’s face with some curiosity. Now that he was looking down at it, he could see that the green – and it was a spreading green, he now saw – on the cook’s face was the same color as that of his foot. He pushed it down, and this time, the cook actually grabbed hold of him by his ankle. It was such a fast, violent grab that Mug almost lost his footing, but he managed to recover at the last second.

Surprisingly, the former cook was already licking at the bottom of his foot like something possessed. The orc looked around, completely confused at the sudden change in the cook, while also wondering who was going to cook him something.

One of the hanging bits of ingredients looked rather edible to him, actually. Mug looked at it, and shrugged before grabbing hold of the leafy bunch. He would have preferred some strong meat to eat, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Mug didn’t know what that meant, but it was what people told him when he wanted to eat something that they didn’t want to give him. Unfortunately, there was nobody to punch and steal from this time.

As he nibbled, he kept feeling long, firm licks to the bottom of his foot, slowly getting further and further up from the heel. The orc didn’t pay too much attention to it, except to occasionally move his foot when he was getting prodded and poked by the sharper tusks along the underside. Mug didn’t really care; if it was making the cook happy and it stopped his whining, he would keep the little fucker under his foot for as long as he could.

However, even he couldn’t ignore it when he felt the hands around his ankle getting bigger, and he finally looked up from biting on a few heads of garlic. What he saw made him drop the rest of it on the ground as he went slack-jawed.

It wasn’t a human underfoot anymore. What had been a rather skinny cook was now a large, green skinned orc much like himself. Well, mostly; there was still a fair bit happening from the waist down, but the cook was definitely not human from the waist up. His apron was pushed up by a much bigger belly, jiggling as he squirmed and licked at the bottom of Mug’s foot, and as the green pushed past the expanding waistband of his pants, the orc could see that something else was growing, too.

“What you doing?”

“Changing.”

“You orc now?”

“Almost orc. Need more.”

“More feet?”

“More green! More that!”

The former human pointed towards Mug’s pants. The orc was confused for a moment, but when he pulled down his pants a bit and exposed his cock, he immediately knew what the other guy wanted. Grinning like he’d just figured it out, Mug knelt down over the former human’s face, and forced his soft cock down the other orc’s throat.

The suction he felt almost immediately made him hard, and he groaned as he rocked back and forth over the old cook’s face. His balls bumped constantly into the other guy’s nose, and he could feel the suction there, trying to pull the scent off of his sac. He grinned, leaning forward and pulling the cook’s pants down to see how it was going.

The green was spreading rapidly, pushing down to the base of the formerly pink shaft and wrapping around it. Almost immediately, it started getting thicker, and as the green spread up the cock – sped along with the frequent thrusts Mug made down the cook’s throat – it started getting longer as well. Bit by bit, inch by inch, it stretched out from the cook’s crotch, getting closer and closer to the size of Mug’s mighty cock.

It was impossible to miss the balls growing, as well. Buoyed as they were by the growing thighs of the near-orc, they seemed to grow by the second, inflating like some fruit that grew in a day. The green orbs rapidly ballooned to the size of Mug’s fist, and considering how big his hands were, that was no mean feat.

The cook started struggling under him, and Mug realized that the big guy was getting close to cumming. He grinned, reaching out and wrapping his hand around that cock as he slammed his own in up to the hilt in the cook’s throat. He stroked it hard and fast, and as the green spread down the cook’s legs, enveloping him down to his toes – which were much further away from his heel, due to the foot growth – he came.

Whatever it was that had caused the change, it seemed to push the cook to cum as well. Mug only just avoided getting sprayed in the face with the blast of seed, and it seemed to pull the orc’s cock out even further.

With the transformation complete, Mug was a little confused on what to do next. It took the cook slapping him on the ass to get him to finally pull out – and even then, he tried to keep fucking, first – and then the cook got to his feet.

“How this happen?”

“Dunno. Ask potionmaster?”

“Mug ask.”

“Cook too.”

With that, they walked off, neither bothering with clothes. After all, what use had an orc for clothes?

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]