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“Thank you again, Ebonhorn! You are such a blessing!”

“Nonsense! I will do anything for the tribe.”

With a handwave, the Spiritwalker Tauren looked at the family leaving his reaches. The calves running around the parents, he watched them slip away between the rocks and beyond the treeline before he allowed his hand to drop and for him to sigh. Gone was his smile and his cheerful attitude, likewise to his relaxed posture.

No… It was no moment for Ebonhorn to relax as he brought a hand to his chest, to the tattered robes covering his hulking frame. In a blink, his reptilian eyes appeared while his visage form shifted slightly. His slitted pupils danced, watched if there was anyone around. Two elfs rangers, hidden below… With a deep breath, he filled his nose until his nose ring hit his black-furred muzzle: one more, hidden near the rocks.

He sighed, feeling… Powerless. His position was remote, yet they were swarming it day and night. The village itself was not safe, under scrutiny… And all.

“Nobody will interrupt us,” said a voice, articulating slowly to push back the strong accent underneath, one daring to turn everything into a slurring sound due to protruding tusks.

“I know,” whispered Ebonhorn as he turned away from the cavern’s entrance. With his eyes, he saw the glimmer of magic everywhere, a trace that was invisible unless for talented mages or… Dragons. “You can reveal yourself, then.”

“Now, now, Ebyssian. Do not make us regret our arrangement with your anger,” answered the voice, rolling the final R before a snap echoed within the cavern, and a Zandalari appeared.

There was a clear contrast between the two. Not only were they of two races, in appearance, that contrasted: a black-furred Tauren bearing moose-like horns atop his head and a Zandalari with a faintly gray skin whose tusks had been filled with gold.

No, more than that was their contrasting attitude where Spiritwalker Ebonhorn, or Ebyssian, seemed demure and frustrated; whereas the Zandalari was all smile and grins.

And for reasons.

The Horde had won, and crushed the alliance. Without any enemy to turn its eyes against, it was inward the Warchief started to scrutinize. Dissentions, oppositions, rebellions… Those had been crushed one by one, Ebonhorn heard from afar. Even the sister tribe had lost the Bloodhoof leaders and had it replaced by another male who seemed uncaring about the previous arrangements with the Highmountain Taurens. Regularly, Mayla would come and ask if Ebonhorn had any vision of the west, asking him if her beloved was well, similarly for Baine’s father.

But it was better not to bother her with what happened to them, to the visions he had received from Kalimdor. There was something wicked with the Horde, but opposing it was impossible, if not a folly.

He had seen the Warchief, Garrosh, instructing the destruction of many cities, the enslavement of the Draeneis interlopers, the Night Elves, the Humans from the Eastern shores, even those cursed with a wolf’s skin. He had seen it all, even how corrupted and gone were the Bloodhoofs. No. It was better to spare Mayla and his kind of what was happening beyond, and allow them peace. If it had a price.

A price in the form of the Zandalari war-mage, smiling with that golden glimmer in his eyes, and his rich attire. He wore flowing robes that, evidently, were cut to expose much of his body to anyone who glanced at him. There was no steel upon his body, and the sole metal he wore was again that gold in the form of ornate bracelets, heavy collars, trinkets around his silk belt.

He looked… Dashing, right from the Capital. And it was so with the Magus Zuli. He had taken that title from humans, he had admitted, but it gave him a certain status he enjoyed… As well as the power.

Oh… Ebonhorn had seen it.

“I won’t. As you see, I am keeping my part of our bargain,” explained Ebonhorn as he raised a hand towards the wards placed here and there. The Magus listened and recorded everything here, even their most private… Talks. “Once more, no one will raise against the Horde.”

“I see dat,” answered the Magus though he slipped, his accent betraying him before he sighed and straightened his back. He was as tall as Ebonhorn, when hunched, and his steps were… Yes, graciously calculated. “You reassured the Elders about our occupation forces, you reaffirmed the peace between the Highmountains and the Horde, you even… Lied to your Chieftain. A bad thing.”

“A necessary evil. If I revealed the truth, she would usher in a rebellion. It would be a bloodbath,” sighed Ebonhorn, his shoulders dropping while the Zandalari stepped around and placed his hands on said shoulders.

“And the Horde is happy about your cooperation. We will push north; you will handle Torok and his men while we continue our search. There are talks of insurgents hiding there.”

“If there are any, I haven’t seen it,” commented Ebonhorn.

An answer that elicited a clicking tongue and a finger, an index, hooking the Tauren’s nose ring and almost twisting it.

“Of course, you cannot see it. They use an arcanist to hide their traces. Idiotic cow,” spat the Magus with a grunt as he pulled on the ring. More… More. Until it started to hurt.

“Idiotic Dragon.”

Ebonhorn’s eyes clenched as he tried to control his emotions… However, he felt the fire and frustration growing in his chest until the ring was let loose and… He was able to breathe.

“Trying to change back to your Dragon form?” chuckled the Zandalari, passing a finger against the Tauren’s neck.

“No. I… Didn’t.”

The finger stopped, resting on the Tauren’s pulse. Before the Magus huffed.

“Curious. You don’t lie, but I sensed your power rushing against your bind. This is a first,” laughed Zuli, waving his hands as if to chase an idea. “Strip.”

Ebonhorn sighed. He knew this was to happen. Slowly, carefully, he turned away to slip his arms out of the sleeves, hoping to take everything in one movement.

“While you will report to me, I count on you to leave your cavern more. We need reassurance of your presence. Precisely during the meetings with Mayla and the diplomatic delegations,” started Zuli, waving his hand and sitting on what was a ghost chair, his left arm against an arm while he rested, observed Ebonhorn.

One robe removed and dropped later, Ebonhorn was naked in the cleanly-lit cave, his backside exposed to the Zandalari. Hunched as he was, it was possible to peer at the few scales sticking around his shoulders if you squinted enough. His back was strong, forming a clearly defined line descending to his waving tail… And to his prime posterior. His ass was round, muscular, refined with a certain plumpness that fat didn’t hinder. And the imprinted Horde symbol on the left cheek, magically inked in red, perfectly fit in that setting.

“What should I say to her during the meeting? To accept unconditionally?” asked Ebonhorn as he turned, his hooves stomping on the ground with great shame while he had his hands covering his front, joined together before the Zandalari’s inquisitive eyes.

“Anything that fits the situation, as long as it gets her to accept our reinforced presence in the north. As long as you keep feeding her lies and telling her Baine and Cairne are impossible to reach, it’ll be fine. We can even… Hmm. I will send the suggestion to Thunder Bluff to disguise our sluts and place them somewhere fitting with an escort. To secure your lies.”

Evidently, Zuli was no slouch. Even though he had the role of monitoring and controlling the Highmountains, he had been the one who pierced through Ebonhorn’s disguise and knew about his real identity. More than that, he had been slowly guiding the Tribe to accept the Elves and Orcs who roamed Thunder Totem’s growing passageways. No… That golden gaze hid a cunning and perverted mind who planned everything in advance. And wanted to be at the top.

“I will do that,” mentioned Ebonhorn, nodding. And putting his hands beside his body when the Troll signaled him to do so.

Hands on either side, Ebonhorn looked somewhat… Alright. He was muscular; he had a soft belly with a bit of pudge. And between his legs, he seemed well-endowed. His testicles were covered with fur and heavy, black as charcoal, while tight to the body. As for his cock, it was nestled in a loose but large sheath, displaying the tip of the flared cocktip as well as a part of the length up to the folded median ring. It was… Typical for a male. A sight Zuli observed, curiously… Before he waved his hand again, summoning a little floating table on his left. Onto which was placed a vial.

Then, with two fingers pointed at the table, he led the apparition towards Ebonhorn who observed the liquid, purple and almost glowing.

“More?”

“More. I will have you prepared,” confirmed Zuli with a nod.

Ebonhorn watched the liquid swirl and shivered a bit. He had taken it for… So long. And there was another dose, another vial he uncorked while its sweet and vile perfume assaulted his nostrils. Zuli had told him it was purified mojo mixed with drugs, something that was used regularly on slaves in the Capital. And he emptied it.

The sweet, tacky, and fruity perfume was strong but not enough to hide the stringent touches below. As usual, the Tauren grimaced but still gulped the vial down until the last drop was on his tongue. He placed the glass vial back before it vanished along with the table.

And already was he feeling warmer, hotter, bothered. Especially between his legs. He felt the tension rising inside, the pressure, the tenderness rising across his spine.

His heartbeat quickened, blood rushed between his legs, the excitation followed. And followed the Zandalari’s perfume, a faint scent of brandy imported from the Human lands, an indecent pleasure Zuli indulged in, and ozone from casting spells. Sweat simmered against the Troll’s exposed skin, beyond the slight fur covering it and giving him that ashen color.

He was…

“Is it working?”

“Y-yes,” whispered Ebonhorn, still under the shock. Even after weeks of taking it, the effect was still as strong as before. It made his head swirl, his thoughts cloud… He reached for his temple while the Troll advanced, certain. Just like their first time together, when the Zandalari had forced his presence while threatening Ebonhorn.

The situation was no different, but there was… Another sensation mixing with it, a thrill. A thrill that grew as the Zandalari’s fingers, heavy with rings, went over the Tauren’s coat. It explored the bushes over the man’s chest, traced the line between the breasts, then down the abdomen. However, the sensation was fuzzy, changed, altered, different than what was to be expected. Still, Ebonhorn sighed and welcomed it… And he tried to repress the grin from the pleasure he sensed from someone he shouldn’t be. Zuli was everything the Horde represented as its worst, another tyrant.

But he was a perverted tyrant who had a talent for playing with Ebonhorn’s needs. He knew how sensitive the Tauren was around the belly button, the strokes on the lower belly. And then… The hands passed down. Past the bushy groin, past the cock… Through the cock as if it was nothing as if it was an illusion all along. And through one motion, Ebonhorn started to huff.

He gasped, moaned, felt his inners stretched, abused, molested. He felt the rotation, the nudge from the roundish tip, the slight tug from the rough surface. He sensed the slight shaking with Zuli tugging left then right to stimulate Ebonhorn.

And through, despite the suction, went the toy. It fell out, followed by a disgusting trail of fluids, before the illusion vanished and Ebonhorn was exposed, truly.

His cunt remained where was the illusion of a cock an instant before. However, it was easy to notice the details of what had been.

Through an inspection, it was possible to see how the lips had been the scrotum’s folds, how the flesh was a tad more rough to the touch than it would be of a true female tauren. Likewise, the outer lips were slightly wider than normal… And bigger. But the inside was just as soft and tempting, the pinkish flesh revealing a scent that overwhelmed the cave: of a female in heat, fruity and cloying. No Female would let herself have such a strong and enticing scent, but Ebonhorn did as his fluids poured from the lower lips and dripped down onto his black fur, then onto the ground.

As the sight, Zuli seemed satisfied. And more so when his fingers, wide and callous, prospected.

“I always ask myself,” started the Troll with a slight grin. He started, his fingers tracing the lips that were, despite all the stretching the toy had done, sensitive and desperate for contact. “What would have happened if you refused my offer.”

An offer. Give in the drugs and the Troll’s request, or have Highmountain be set aflame.

“I would not have given up on my kin.”

“Honorable, for a Dragon,” grumbled the Zandalari, ascending his fingers up and up… near the hood. “But imagine if you had refused. You could have kept your dragonhood. Hmm?”

Ebonhorn gritted his teeth, and not only from the caresses or the tease.

He gritted his teeth as the man’s voice blew air against his clitoris. What had been of his… Cock. It was still too big to be considered a female’s clitoris. It was too prominent, it was too engorged, too wide, too dark. And it was too decorated.

Where he had a cock, there was then that nub of flesh pointing up and hard, not as flared as the cock he had shaped for his visage form. It had a soft and roundish tip. However, the golden ring at the end pulled the tip down while hiding its shape. Or… Was it the golden ladder pierced through it, or the bands placed in-between each of the ladder’s steps? Or even the base with a red stone dangling from this clit, shaped like the Horde’s symbol.

It had all been Zuli’s requests, orders, “gifts”. All to humiliate Ebonhorn… yet, he had been smart enough to offer a way out for the Tauren. He had given him the enchanted toy that would hide all the changes and fake the Tauren’s genitals.

“I prefer not to think of it, Zuli,” groaned Ebonhorn, with a hint of frustration in his voice.

“Oh… Please, don’t you ever think of it?”

“I… Do not speak of this? I would rather not talk about this subject.”

“Do not speak. Of what?” smiled Zuli, going over Ebonhorn’s decorated clit. He passed a finger over it, over the ring at the end, the ladder, the bands, the stone… Then at the base, where Ebonhorn remained sensitive. One stop the Zandalari stroked with one finger. “Of what you cannot do anymore, Dragon. Last uncorrupted of your kind?”

Ebonhorn trembled again, his clitoris hard, and the fluids dripped from his cunt. It was true; he could not do anything. Even if Zuli had not placed those spells restraining him from shapeshifting, he was uncertain if his Dragon form had been left unaffected. In fact, Ebonhorn knew something had happened to his true form, but he could not see the changes by himself.

Maybe… If there was another Black Dragon, it could be possible to have him breed his… Cunt. But then, what would be the result?

“I… Sometimes think about it,” admitted Ebonhorn with a deep sigh, letting it out while the fingers brushed the base and the Troll clicked his tongue.

“Hands back. Remember what should be your Mantra.”

Mantra.

Ebonhorn stiffened but still joined his hands behind him. He assumed a more militaristic posture with his chest puffed up, his legs straightened, his chin up.

The words, the mantra, were at his lips, but each time, it felt like he gave in further and further, much to Zuli’s delight.

“The weak shall submit, the strong shall lead. The Horde’s enemies will know defeat while the Horde shall prevail.”

As he said it, Ebonhorn’s tail swung in the wind… Not unaffected by Zuli’s fingers now going against his lips and penetrating them. Two fingers in, the thumb at the base of Ebonhorn’s clit, he teased the orifice and started to split it… To pry it open, with enough strength, the Tauren’s firm walls opened and released their sickly sweet perfume.

“Good. And de you know what is defeat for our enemies?”

Ebonhorn shivered. Oh, he knew the answer.

He was fully aware; the idea played in the back of his mind again and again. It was something he had seen on so many visages, even the lords and Kings of distant lands. His fingers tensed, crushing one another while he exhaled.

“To… Bear the Horde’s legacy.”

“That is right!” confirmed Zuli, controlling his thick accent once more while his other hand went over Ebonhorn’s face, going for the muzzle to stroke it. To play with that chin and guide it down, forcing him to look down, to face down… To have that Zandalari right by him… Breathing right by his mouth.

“You are lucky it was me who saw through your mask. You could have been killed for the deception,” said the Troll with his fingers going in and out, the slick suction noise bringing a grimace to his face. It was not a sound one would hear, not coming from their body, not from… … What used to be their male parts.

Still, Ebonhorn closed his eyes and nodded, only to feel the gold-filled tusk pressing against his muzzle. There was a stroke on his fine fur, on the soft skin below, on the lips pursed. And… Lips. Meeting. Pressing. Joining. One tongue pressed onward, teased the narrow passage until it managed to pry its way in, and… Forced the Tauren to release his jaws.

Smoke and air escaped Ebonhorn’s nostrils while he was led into a kiss, his warm inside getting warmer while the Magus’ tongue teased and played with his. Somehow, he joined in. Indulgence or defeat? Either way, he sampled the brandy in the Troll’s breath, even saliva. It was a puissant, heady aroma that swirled and invaded his mouth until he swallowed the fluid.

All the while, his body danced, and his hooves stomped. Not from anger, but as reflexes from getting those two fingers entirely hilted in. They were deep inside, and yet Zuli didn’t stop there. He stretched them, making a scissor motion while his thumb kept nudging Ebonhorn’s oversized clitoris.

The kiss continued, and the hand on Ebonhorn’s muzzle left, dancing down his neck and collarbone to his chest until it met with one needy nipple. Just one, but one that was teased by having the tip hard-pressed by an index that swirled, rolled, turned, without leaving the nub alone. He was growing sensitive there, much more than he would have liked to admit… No, everything was getting more sensitive.

His sense of smell was getting better at picking the rough masculine perfume emanating from other Taurens, and even Zuli’s. He seemed more keen on noticing the details, whether the excitation or sexual… Frustration. His sense of taste had grown from hating the brandy in the Troll’s breath to eagerly desiring it, as much as sampling the sweat on the ashen skin.

And his body. The articulations, the weights, he felt them changing and shifting. He was getting heavier around the hips, which were growing larger, too. His robes and the illusion were keeping it away, but… There was no denying this. He had changed so much. He was not the same Ebonhorn. Even if everything else returned back to what was before, he was different.

All by the hand of the smug and suave Troll; whose tongue relentlessly fed him, drove him crazy, pushed him deeper inside while the fingers pumped in and out. In… Out. He felt his inner walls pulled, sometimes from the digits hooking on the flesh.

But above that, there was a spot the Troll kept playing with. It had been his prostate, the Troll explained. A sensitive organ whose purpose was for ejaculation… But once he had taken the Mojo, the organ remained but quasi useless. Yet, it was still there and sensitive, so swollen, so much swollen that any brush with it sent shivers through Ebonhorn’s body.

Finally… The kiss stopped. Saliva traced the distance between their lips as the Troll pushed Ebonhorn away. Without any strength left, the massive Tauren had to step back to recover his balance, even moving his hands and waving them.

“On the table.”

One order, one Ebonhorn, followed by stepping back and then pressing his posterior on the examination table. He was no healer, but some women would come and have them examine their calves while still inside. Most of the time, they needed to be reassured, and sometimes, Ebonhorn gave the calf a little magical nudge.

But this time, it was him on the table with his legs spread and his hole dripping.

He watched Zuli’s lascivious grin. The troll slid a finger between his legs to give his cock a little nudge… Then, the Troll approached and kneeled by the table.

“I should-”

“You should do nothing,” cut Zuli, stopping Ebonhorn from asking to get his oils and unguents. Instead, the Spiritwalker remained still with his hooves on the stone table while his holes were exposed.

Holes. Zuli had not been gentle with his asshole either, using it before Ebonhorn’s cock shrank. Each week, the Troll would check and be so eager and excited at seeing Ebonhorn’s organs shrinking.

And never had the Troll’s smile disappeared since that cock had entirely shrunken and those testicles went up inside.

Looking down, Ebonhorn observed the Troll take a whiff of the feminine aroma. A strong inhalation enough for the air movement to brush that cunt and clitoris. Then… Without a second more, the Troll’s tusks were pressed against the lips. Each was pulling on the skin slightly, on the muscles below, and the bones. It was an added pressure Ebonhorn took it in strides, exhaling when the warm breath was onto his hole. A hole that clenched, reopened, and allowed more fluids to pour from the lower side before Zuli licked it.

Licked it while his hands, far from being idle, went over Ebonhorn’s posterior.

“Higher,” said the Troll, ordered.

Ebonhorn laid down, adjusting his back while the Troll had full access over his furry hole, passing a finger against the fattened cheeks before the wide index plunged in between and battered Ebonhorn’s swollen hole. The Tauren gasped, and gasped some more when the finger had enough strength to slip inside without lubrication. It pulled, it hurt… But Ebonhorn made no more sound as the digit wiggled within to dig deeper and further, opposing the contracting muscles until it was right at the good spot.

A familiar spot.

No words were exchanged, but Ebonhorn held his breath. He knew the moment would come, and it came as the lips pressed against his orifice. A kiss, a loving kiss that went over the lips. Left, up, right, down. It was a progress along the edge and, with it, the tusk rubbed against the taint. More than that, the Troll’s forehead and nose tickled the Tauren’s clitoris, leaving it engorged and needy, eager to be stroked. A remembrance of before.

Then… The finger advanced.

Right as it advanced and the final knuckle was in, the finger hooked and toyed with Ebonhorn’s prostate. Again… The organ was so warm, so hot, so… Full. It was like a weight inside, something full of fluids that couldn’t escape. And it hurt. As much as it was wondrous and exciting, as it elicited a shameful smile and a flustered expression on the Tauren’s face.

“You should thank me,” added Zuli with a chuckle before his lips went closer. The kiss stopped, turned into an open mouth whose corners practically retained the chaos of squirt coming from the Tauren’s cunt… And whose tongue darted inside the cavernous and warmed inner walls.

It was… Good. Like a finger but less abrasive, and whose touch was more delicate to the overly sensitive hole. Not so much as the clitoris. But much more than Ebonhorn expected from the talks he had with women.

In fact, he was not even aware of all the details before he had the Troll teasing and nudging him. It was a peculiar sensation as his vulva expanded inward and yet, he felt more excited, more wet… It was something he was getting accustomed to, thanks to Zuli’s constant presence. But it… It was on his mind as the tension within his muscles grew more and more.

He was… He was getting ready.

He was ready, and the emptiness within was a proof. His hole was gaping, and Zuli’s tongue had to swirl with more effort to reach his inner walls. Moreover, the pressure on his prostate was stronger and not only from the hooked finger. His muscles contracted and moved, adjusted his inside so he could be taken, penetrated. Even more, he sensed a heat coming from either side of his abdomen. Something he should not, something that did not happen. And yet felt.

Maybe it was the Mojo or another of Zuli’s spells.

But he knew… He definitely knew, and as the Troll’s tongue swirled, sometimes rolling up and outward to tease the clitoris’ base, where the hood should have been, the Tauren trembled. He… His fingers reached for the stone table, pressed against it without digging into the soft surface.

“You are in heat, Ebonhorn. I can taste it,” said Zuli with a firm grin as he stood up, passing an index over his lips to wipe them of fluids.

“I… Maybe. It’s-”

“It’s something you will grow to know intimately,” cooed the Magus as he reached for his robe. With two broaches holding the fabric wrapping over his shoulders, the Troll only had to undo the two attaches for his top to drop. He exposed his lean but muscular torso, marred by a wide scar coming from the right shoulder to the left breast. He was fit. Perfectly so, though less muscular and impressive than a Tauren or less so a Highmountain Tauren.

But he was impressive, nonetheless, with the scars, the slight osseous growth over his pectorals and forearms, the way he rolled his shoulders when pushing the fabric aside.

“After every birth, we will have you prepared to be in heat so you will bear more calves. You are lucky, Ebonhorn. Many broodmothers would envy you,” commented Zuli, bending over to undo his bracers around his ankles to throw them aside. Likewise to those around his arms.

“How so?” asked Ebonhorn, flustered as the lukewarm cave air brushed with his hole that felt like… Contracting for a second until the Troll’s hand was over his lower belly, the wrist pressing against the swollen clit and pushing it down… Down.

“You will live. Longer than other species. You could be immortal, and you will bear generations after generations. Not so many are lucky,” explained Zuli, pinching the clitoris’ tip for a second before releasing it once Ebonhorn whimpered. Then, he continued to strip, undoing his numerous silky belts one by one… Slowly. Purposefully to get Ebonhorn’s attention and enjoin the Tauren to shift his posture so they could face one another. At that moment, Zuli offered the Spiritwalker a grin.

“Like… The Draeneis or the Night elves?” asked Ebonhorn, curious. He had heard the names in the visions. Regularly so. He had even seen an ally of Huln Highmountain in them, mounted by oversized wolves and begging for more. Or an old purple-skinned male whose belly was swollen by calves. He had seen those, knowing he would follow them.

“Oh. You know them? The Draeneis were an easy catch for the Taurens, not your kind. And the Night Elves were… Your former allies, right? In any case, they are better this way. They will be the backbone of the Horde. And so will you,” admitted Zuli with a shrug, defiant… Before he pulled on his last belt, which retained his flowing pants, allowing them to drop to reveal his… parts.

By parts, it meant an organ that was just as big as Ebonhorn’s, or at least its previous form. It was immense, well-endowed… The length itself, ending in a round tip, had veins all over, which pulsed beneath the ashen skin. A golden ladder had been pierced through it, forming half a dozen of steps guiding from the round uncut tip to… Well, the base. A base joining the cock to the scrotum which was low-hanging, with testicles as big as closed fists.

From this, there was an unnatural aura, a pulse that was wrong. The flesh was too big to fit a Zandalari Troll. But it seemed to be perfectly fine with the Magus, who purposefully slipped a finger against his trimmed groin while pushing his cock down with one digit. Before he released it, allowing the shaft to bounce up and spray some precum that had been accumulating at the tip.

The jet was nowhere enough to reach Ebonhorn… But the perfume did so.

A rough perfume, musky, earthy, which joined the brandy well. There was even a hint of shaved wood the Tauren did not know where it came from. But he took the smell in and sighed, unaware of how gaping and relaxing his entrance was while the Troll seemed so focused on admiring.

“But I am luckier,” laughed the Magus, using an entire hand to grip his cock base while moving closer. His other hand free, he pressed against the Tauren’s thighs to keep them spread while his cocktip was aligned with… The entrance.

“Lucky? How?”

“Lucky your first brood would be mine.”

An affirmation. No, a declaration as the cocktip was at the entrance, poking at the lower labia. It was warm, warm like lava and the mere touch, the soft caress, sent shivers through Ebonhorn’s back. Even his tail flicked while the mast started to push and advance within his gaping and prepared hole. His… Hole that was so open, it took only a small effort for the tip to slip in.

“I-”

“You are in heat and prepared. Your first brood will be mine,” answered Zuli as he leaned forward, putting one hand on the stone table while his body advanced… And so did the stiff cock, decorated with gold.

Gold that pressed and rubbed against the Tauren’s sensitive walls, pressing on the soft flesh that had expanded so much it would even be possible to slip four fingers in. And yet, Zuli… Zuli who was of a different and more lean species, who should not possess a shaft as sizeable, was stretching and forcing on the walls. It was a weight, a pressure, with the added texture from the rubbing gold.

And it felt… Nice.

Ebonhorn huffed, his fingers on the table while he tried to keep face, not to let Zuli see how much he liked it. But it was in vain; saliva dripped from his mouth and his clenched jaws produced some loud rattling noise.

“Enjoying yourself, Ebonhorn?” asked the Troll with a snarky grin, his hand leaving his cock to get a hold of Ebonhorn’s clitoris, pinching it delicately between two fingers while his cock advanced. A little further and… More than half would be inside.

A little further, and it would rest against what remained of Ebonhorn’s prostate, pressuring the useless organ like a waterskin… Squishing it and turning the soft spot into… Into… Into a spectacular rush of pleasure and delight.

“Nhhh-o,” finally articulated Ebonhorn, his muzzle dropping lower while he contracted his neck and arms. His fingers dug into the hard stone, pressed against it while his hole… His hole was getting teased by the cock moving left and right, giving slight nudges. But it didn’t stop the pleasure, the delight, the desire to arise in the Tauren’s groin… Not, it pushed, it egged, it led his prostate to send more sparks through his spine while his clitoris burned under the Troll’s touch. And yet, he could not cum. He could no longer do so, despite what felt like an orgasm rising and rising.

“Hmm hmm. You should learn to moo. It’s adequate.”

“M-moo?” grunted and asked Ebonhorn, his face clenched, and his expression closed. One would read pain, but it was a constrained expression one took as he fought the rising pressure and pleasure that swarmed his groin. And then, it started to expand. Outward, reaching and warming the labia as they were near the Troll’s groin. And inward, reaching the end of his vulva, his cervix, and when beyond his vagina… His entire body.

Pleasure, pleasure as a fuzzy warmth hardly describable, overtaking and erasing what was beneath. It was a tidal wave of sensation, making his clitoris feel about to burst yet would never. Felt his internal organ constrain… And yes, his prostate burn, be heavier.

“Yes, moo,” continued Zuli as he fully hilted himself inside, rubbing the clitoris against his fingers and belly, pressing it against the soft skin while giving the tip a few nudges. The nudges would be enough to drive Ebonhorn crazy. But with the piercings, any surface pressed against the clitoris forced them to pull on his overly sensitive flesh.

He was… He was about to cum. To reach his climax, to empty himself.

“Like the Cows like you should be. When we breed you.”

Ebonhorn heard the words, but they barely registered in his mind. His hooves tapped the stone, stone that was tightly held in his fingers. His thighs stiffened, his entire body became a block as he tried to remain still. But the sensation, the rush, the burst of pleasure from his prostate and clit were too much. Too much for him to resist. And in an instant, his vulva clenched. Feminine juices flowed outward, spraying the Troll’s groin while his inner walls moved, brought alive by the clenching of the muscles. It was… Nerve-wracking, intense, brutal…

In one instant, Ebonhorn was stolen of his breath, words, thoughts. He blinked, feeling like he had ejaculated, yet there was nothing of it. And yet, instead of the typical pause, the receding pleasure he usually felt as a male… He solely felt the need rise once more, again to his limit.

“Do it, cow. You want it,” enjoined Zuli with a grin, his smile split by his tusks… His eyes glimmered with envy and desires. For what? Ebonhorn watched them, and… In a rush of emotions, he released his right hand. The Troll slowly pulled back, forcing against the cunt’s gripping walls. But stopped when Ebonhorn’s hand was on his cheek, stroking the cheekbones.

“Eb-”

“Moo,” said Ebonhorn, unable to find words. He didn’t know what to say. Even before, he did not know what to say to that male as he abused, broke, forced him into such a perverted state.

Hence, moo was perfect. Without meaning as the Tauren grabbed the Troll’s face, nape, and guided him onward. Guided the Troll to bend, to lean forward, to have his belly brushing Ebonhorn’s clitoris so hard the inner walls were clenching again in another shock.

“What are you doing, Ebonhorn?” the Magus asked, snarling.

“Moo,” answered the Tauren, the sensations and delight overtaking everything else.

And through another pull, the Tauren and Troll’s lips met. They kissed, the Tauren’s tongue barely prodding the mouth but enough to invite. Solely for that invitation to be taken as the Troll’s tongue slipped inside and started to share his saliva. The brandy aroma was almost gone, but it had enough touches to titillate the Tauren’s tongue while the two tangled together.

“Mhrphhh!” tried to moo Ebonhorn, sensing the way Zuli rolled his hips and lifted them, rubbing their bodies together… Grinding the pierced clitoris against the skin until all piercings tugged and nearly pinched the poor clitoris with an avalanche of opposite sensations.

Until that monstrous and augmented cock was rubbing deep, nudging the Tauren’s cervix as much as the prostate behind the walls, giving the two lovetaps that sent echoes and shivers through Ebonhorn.

And yet, as usual, the Magus had more in stock. As the Tauren reclined and forced Zuli to follow, forced the Troll to raise a foot on the stone to get a right angle, Zuli wagged one finger.

One… And something else was felt against the Tauren’s hole. A soft tip, roundish, not flared like the other taurens. But undeniably a cock, something that looked as big and as wide as Zuli’s cock. Another one? Yet absent… And cold, not as warm as the one rummaging his cunt.

Then, as their mouth parted for a moment, allowing the two to catch their breaths, the Troll grinned, showing his golden teeth.

“I will take you on a ride.”

Again, Ebonhorn let out a moo. A repeated sound that didn’t seem to displease Zuli. Quite the opposite as his grin grew and grew even more when his hips pushed forward. A single hit, a single push. But where Ebonhorn had sensed his vulva assailed despite the contraction… He felt his asshole split open and invaded. Like being taken twice at once, the Tauren mooed and extended his neck back. He relaxed his grip on Zuli, who took no time to lean and start nibbling Ebonhorn’s right nipple. All the while, he moved his legs, adjusted his posture, reinforced his stance… And pulled… Then pushed!

A cry. A moo. A plaintive sound escaped Ebonhorn’s mouth as he extended his neck towards the cave ceiling, feeling the muscles burn from his entire body. He would be sore… But that knowledge eluded him as his arms and legs were contracting and releasing in a spasmodic pace. Bones were abused, tendons tensed to their limits… And his prostate? Well, it was doubly crushed between Zuli’s cocks, twinned as they moved in tandem but not at the same pace.

The true one was the fastest, going in and out at a neck-break speed. The other was slow, extremely slow, but it applied such a pressure, such a constant presence… It was comparable to having an anvil and a hammer… One beating slowly but keeping its presence, and the other beating, hitting, smacking until the hips clapped together.

And at the middle was Ebonhorn’s walls, prostate… All the while, the hammer kept hitting his cervix, prying it, forcing on it… And therefore applying a strong pressure on the furthest wall.

He came… Ebonhorn came again, and again. Yet, even as his holes contracted, it didn’t stop Zuli at all. Even as his body tensed, it was to find his mind and body needy for more. Even as he climaxed… His satisfaction and yearning were reaching new highs.

And his mooing continued.

He mooed desperately while the perverted Troll kept nipping and gnawing at his nipples, turning the pink nub red. They were erect and hard, but so sensitive that they irradiated with that twinge, that ache… That misery which spread across the Tauren’s spine. He was used as a fuckhole, a toy, a breeding mount.

The cave itself was filled with the sounds of the cheeks beaten red, of the Troll’s oversized testicles beating and smacking and abusing the labia while delivering pang after pang of delight. It was so much, too much for the Tauren, whose shape had never been made to be female. Those sensations, despite being used to them, weren’t his and were a torture.

A wondrous, perverted, and pleasant torture in which he had no control. A torment where his sole respites were the moments of breathing and resting from the Troll.

Few and far between. But they were there as even the Troll’s endurance was defied, as he tried to push his limits. His scalding-hot precum had long-since swarmed the Tauren’s inner walls, drenching his vulva in masculine fluids and making the cave reek with Troll musk.

But there was no ejaculation in sight despite the tension in the male’s jaws, the huffs, the gasps, and the tension at the cocktip. Zuli was close, but not enough…

Not as he was merely going in and out at a fast pace, but not… With intensity.

A difference Ebonhorn felt right when the Troll hefted his body to be on the table, forcing Ebonhorn to back up. It was just an adjustment… Or rather, it became the moment the situation changed. Zuli’s cock became the anvil, weighting and moving slowly but applying all its presence inside, crushing and languorous.

The other cock? It became a hammer, beating a pace even Zuli had not dared to follow. One so quick it was beating faster than Ebonhorn’s heart, than Zuli’s heart… It was a drumming that uttered another orgasm: whether from Zuli or Ebonhorn.

And finally, it would be the Magus.

His huffs and puffs were growing louder, deeper, his mouth dropped open to reveal the golden-filled teeth and the saliva coating them before a few droplets landed on Ebonhorn’s chest. His eyelids were half-closed, but he did not close them except when blinking.

And his hands, oh, they went on Ebonhorn’s sides, narrowly crushing them while he went at a definitely slower pace. One that was shaken by the hammering inside the asshole, one that was dastardly pushing against Ebonhorn’s cervix to the point of adding more suffering to the poor transformed Dragon.

And then… He stopped.

The Troll stopped as a deep sigh escaped him, his hips locking despite the tremors shaking them. He sighed and smiled, his eyelids droopy but not closed. And he swallowed his saliva. He came.

He came and yet, Ebonhorn’s torment did not stop yet.

The hammering on his prostate from below continued while Zuli had stopped. Another orgasm took him soon after, forcing his hole to clench and spray. But this time, there was more than his fluids; there were Zuli’s. Precum and cum mixed to the flow, hitting the Troll’s groin while it seemed not to bother the Magus.

Rather, for every drop that managed to slip out, three more were added deep inside. Three more were sprayed right at the cervix, marking and repainting in white the entrance and inner walls while his seed invaded Ebonhorn’s most private anatomy in a pure white flood. One whose presence seared and burned, sealed the Tauren’s fate as he gasped and mooed.

Mooed as the seed was already flooding where his eggs would have been, swallowing them and soon enough branding them with the Troll’s lineage. He mooed while he felt the twinge and pangs from that part of the anatomy Zuli had never reached before.

And mooed of how thorough was the sensation as that semen permeated everything, everything that was in his cunt before it dripped down, expelled by the clenching… And by Zuli finally pulling out from the Tauren’s caved hole.

The orifice was stretched, so open it was possible to see the limit of it, the flushed surface, the clenching as Ebonhorn kept climaxing from the abuse on his prostate. Cum and fluids poured from his cunt like a rivulet, dripping on the white stone before it flowed by following gravity, joined what Zuli’s cock kept dripping and oozing, before it all formed a puddle at the rock’s base.

Ebonhorn had been bred, thoroughly… He knew it, he knew from the soreness inside and the little shoots of sensations within that he was… He would be pregnant.

“Oh, I forgot,” said Zuli with that rogue attitude as he wagged one finger. The hammer, the hammering, it all stopped and allowed Ebonhorn to catch his breath. He took in then sighed, unable to utter anything as the Troll slipped away for a moment.

He did not care if Zuli grabbed something, dusted it off, cleaned it with a spell.

But he cared when he felt the fake, the plug in the form of Zuli’s cock poke at his entrance and be rammed inside. His traits tensed, his thighs narrowly closed on the arms to crush it. But… But Ebonhorn stopped, he stopped himself from doing any harm as the fake cock was hilted and the enchantment was activated, hiding away his gaping ruined cunt, ensuring that all that Troll seed would remain inside.

“Good Ebonhorn,” said Zuli with a smile, reaching for the Tauren’s swollen guts, for the abused nipples, sore neck, tender face… And then the horn. “I will share the words there is a new broodwhore ready in highmountains. You will serve the Horde in a fitting manner. Got it?”

“Moo.”