Mind Over Masculinity
Disclaimer: This story contains subjects of an explicit and implied nature. Please read the tags carefully before reading. I am not responsible for you reading this, especially if you happen to be underaged. All character(s) belong to their respective creator(s) as indicated by the copyright information following this disclaimer. This story is a commission, as such please do not repost or copy without my permission, or the permission of any other individuals whose characters have been mentioned within the story. Thank you.
Bruiser belongs to his player.
all other characters belong to me.
Mind Over Masculinity
by Segremores Moon, a commission for (Anonymous)
It shouldn't have been such a slow night. Middle of the weekend should have meant plenty of drinks and more than enough women for Bruiser, the big green orc in the corner of the bar, to choose from. It was terribly slow though. That's what the orc got for coming so early, though he would rationalize it as not being his fault in the slightest.
His employer, the good Baron Exavier was on an elopement to some distant island for a short vacation. Never requiring as many body guards when he went on these sporadic trips, he would give about half his staff the time off, sending them home with a few extra coins in their pocket, coins which Bruiser now used to buy himself another goblet of something called "guzru." It tasted terrible, but it did the trick quickly, and after only two goblets at his immense, muscular size, he was already starting to feel the low buzzing sensation of inebriation.
As far as the big orc was concerned, any girl in the bar would be lucky to have him as their one-night stand. A big guy, with beautiful green skin which was just the right balance of blue and yellow mixed together with lots of thick, curly hair sprouting across various manly places on his form. His arms, chest, back... practically every inch of his form was covered in thick muscles, trained into him by the bodyguard boot camp that he was required to attend nearly every week to keep himself in shape. Part of the job was looking intimidating, and so none of the Baron's men were anywhere under six feet tall or 300 pounds of ‘beef'.
Bruiser lifted his goblet only to realize that he had run out of the stuff he was drinking, grumbling as it meant another trip to the bar, a mere twenty feet away from where his booth was. He scooted himself out, standing with several pops of his bones and ambled toward the barkeep, who was serving a few other humanoids of various species. His path was suddenly intercepted by a vision of beauty.
Her skin was a dark color, almost ripe olive, though much more brown than green, long black hair cascading in waves and rings around her shoulders and toward the small of her back. His loping gate came to a sudden standstill as his brown eyes took in every inch of her seemingly diminutive form. What the hell such a delicate flower was doing in such a seedy place was beyond him, but his alcohol-addled brain was quickly insisting that it didn't matter, and that he should be able to plunge his quite-substantial orc member into her every orifice.
In as nonchalant a way as he could manage--as large as he was and as inebriated as he was getting--Bruiser managed to sidle up alongside the newcomer, nearly brushing shoulders with her. She could sense that he was there almost instantly, though she didn't stiffen or wince or even turn until she was good and ready to, ordering her drink with a strong, musical tone. He saw a break in her hair where one of her long, pointed ears peeked through, marking her as an elf, probably one of the woodland tribes if he wasn't mistaken, though he could have been.
Finishing her drink order, she suddenly turned toward Bruiser. "Suddenly" was an understatement, and to say that she simply "turned" would be a crime of the most dire nature. She twirled, she danced, she gracefully pirouetted, and whatever it was that she did, she was facing toward him with her full figure, as if that was the position she had intended to adopt the whole time. "Can I help you, orc?" she asked, her beautiful face absent of any lines or marks to mar the perfect olive-stone quality of the flesh.
"Oh, you can certainly help," Bruiser replied, his voice booming a little despite his intention. His brain was becoming gradually more and more alcoholic by the second, fueled by what he had to drink before and by his growing arousal at such a beautiful piece of ass that was being prominently displayed. "You can help me with this." The big hand not gripping his goblet reached down to grip at his package instead, his hand carefully cradling what must have been his massive, hairy testicles under the bulge of his half-mast.
The elf grimaced a little, thanking whomever she believed in that the orc was at least kind enough to wear some clothing for this lewd proposition. "No thank you, I'm not looking for any of that tonight," she replied in her singsong voice, turning back to the barkeep when her drink--a small glass vial of something blue--was placed in front of her.
"Don't be a bitch, there's a perfectly good cock here, just waiting for your pretty lips to kiss it," he chuckled, brushing himself a little closer to the elven woman, who easily sidestepped the demanding green mountain and stood a little further away down the bar.
"Obviously this is not the right place for me tonight," she grumbled, throwing back the single shot of her drink and swallowing before dropping a few coins on the bar. Turning to step away from the bar and head toward the door, she threw her hair back a little, nearly making it brush right into Bruiser's face, which made him grimace a little, sneering around his short bottom tusks.
"Hey, girl, I'm talking to you!" he growled, moving forward a little quicker than she anticipated to suddenly grab her right arm. She wrenched a little to try and make him let go, but the horny, drunken orc's hold was strong, and his muscled figure gave quite a clue as to why that would be.
"I wouldn't do this if I were you, orc, don't trifle with people you don't know," she threatened, her musical voice playing tunes that spoke of danger, though Bruiser obviously wasn't paying close enough attention. With a rough pull, he suddenly made the elven woman smack against his front and his big hands and arms were around him, making her grind lewdly against that huge orcish package he was carrying between his thighs.
"Alright, that does it!" she cried, making a few of the more drunken patrons turn as the woman twirled around, delivering a swift slap to the big orc's cheek. On the outside, this was a relatively innocent full-forced slap that caused the orc to let go and stagger back a few feet, to the cheers and jeers of other patrons. To Bruiser, however, this was far more serious.
After the initial staggering, he couldn't move. It felt like there was a airtight body suit made out of the strongest metal sealed around his body. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't blink, he couldn't even twitch a single finger. He was utterly trapped, and his form stood there, in a slumped posture, looking unattractively devoid of intelligence as the eyes stood as still as the rest.
What is it with you macho-males? No isn't good enough, it has to be an important lesson that sticks. The trapped orc suddenly heard a voice in his mind, the voice of the woman in front of him. She stared at him with intense eyes, glaring, then she turned again and walked away. Well, you wanted my attention, and this is where I'm going to give it to you. I'm going to give you so much attention, you're going to wish that you hadn't gotten it in the first place, and then you'll wish your whore of a mother had never squatted to give birth to your pathetic form.
He felt himself move, his posture standing upright again, then his legs carrying him back to the bar once again, his goblet placed on the bar as he heard his voice speak for him. "Gimme another one," he commanded, the barkeep nodding and pouring him more of what he was having before. Bruiser stopped him with his big, outstretched hand, "just leave the bottle."
He drank, and he drank, and he drank, his mind so cloudy with the stuff, he could barely decipher what he was doing anymore, though he knew it was no longer he doing it under his own power. His vision came in and out of focus, and shouts came and went from his hearing. Some of them were his, some of them were others'. At one point, he felt like he was walking, the cool night air washing over him in a gentle breeze. Then, at another point, he felt like he was throwing something, loud crashes startling his alcoholic brain to the point of nearly surfacing again, but there was too much, and then there was nothing but blackness.
When he woke up, he felt himself under his own power for the moment, his head pounding with what had to be a whole month's worth of powerful alcohol drilling at his brain. It felt like his flesh was being mined from the inside out, little men with hats drilling and digging here and there.
The more Bruiser came to his senses, the less he liked his situation. He was in an alley somewhere, the buildings around him looking unrecognizable to his normally acute area knowledge. He smelled like sweat and garbage, his tongue dry as a bone. With a groan, he hefted himself up slowly, the pounding in his head not letting up as he began his search for home.
*****
Some time later, the big green lug stepped from his bath. He must have spent an hour in the tub, soaking away the bad smells of the alley and the drink from his mind. At least he managed to get one of those things done. His headache was still going strong, though it was much better than it had been for the past three hours, two of which had been spent finding his way home.
His head cleared immediately, which made him startle. "What the fuck?" he asked, before that terrifying paralysis overtook him once again, and a familiar voice filled his mind.
So this is where you live? You have a very nice job, don't you? Working for the Baron as his meat. It must bring in a pretty penny... I want you to quit. Came the musical tone of the elf's voice, ringing in his head. At least his hangover was gone, but he might have taken the pounding headache over this any day. Let's get you dressed first, shall we?
He was moving on his own now, his form lumbering to the bedroom of his small apartment, rummaging through his chest of drawers. She was looking for his work clothing, one of the three uniforms that he had to wear while being the Baron's bodyguard, complete with his house seal on the left breast. She didn't put any underwear on his form first though, not even a cloth cup, though he didn't think much of it at the time.
The bright blue cloth of his uniform went well with the green of his flesh, and so adorned he left his apartment, not even bothering to lock it behind him. The sadistic bitch in his head using him like a puppet, walking him to his employer's mansion a mere two miles away. A few individuals walking down the street would pause to salute him, but he ignored them, making them grunt at the rudeness. It was less a sign of respect and more a sign of courtesy that they saluted in the first place.
Gatesmen stood guard in front of the mansion, flanking the cast-iron fence. They nodded to Bruiser, opening the ornate metal doors for him, letting him pass unmolested through the front courtyard. Late morning hours, plus the fact that the Baron had not instructed his men to return early guaranteed that he wouldn't run into many that he knew, and that was lucky for him in this unlucky situation.
I know just how you are going to quit, my pet. You wanted to use that filthy green organ of yours so badly last night. Let's see if you're still up for it today. He could almost ‘feel' the devious grin in her voice, his member suddenly twitching, making his mind reel. Oh no, his erection bulged against the inside of the uniform's groin, bulging the blue fabric outward in an undeniable shape.
His right hand moved to open his pants as he mounted the stairs on his way to the upper office and worse: The Baron's bedchamber. His trapped mind plead with his tormentress, offering his sizable savings to her, offering favors of any kind she could imagine, anything but this. He was ignored all the while. By this point, his big, green organ was arching beautifully out of the opening in his pants, flagging for all who cared to see. Bruiser was thankful that no one else was around, no servant yet called up to the Baron's room to give him his breakfast. He was also horrified, as he wouldn't be stopped.
His hand started to pump along that girth, squeezing it in a familiar way that he always employed when playing with himself, the way that always made his massive knob of a head grow a dark purple in excitement. His other hand gripped the bedroom door, opening it silently, and he snuck in.
Just as he had envisioned in his horrorstricken mind, the form of the Baron was laid out on his bed, snoozing lightly. Baron Exavier was an average size man, a human. He wasn't very old either, a mere thirty years by most counts. Bruiser might have even found the Baron attractive if his loins had slung that way. Of course, it seemed that now he would have no choice. The orc's body stood a mere two feet from the Baron, masturbating smoothly over his form, his huge green dick straining in his hand as he pumped it, making not a single sound. A little of his thick precum drooled out in a small strand, landing on Exavier's shoulder, causing him to stir a little from his sleep.
Bruiser could feel his orgasm coming, though he tried everything in his mental power to beat it back, to scream at his body to stop. It was no good, he could only watch in horror from the mask of his own gleeful face as the Baron woke slowly, frowning up at his bodyguard, then looking in surprise at that huge package being played with right in front of his eyes. This is where Bruiser exploded, his maw opening and letting out an explosive groan of pleasure as his member gushed its first thick rope of semen right into the Baron's face, covering it in spooge and paving the way for every subsequent shot.
Exavier did not take this lightly, shouting at the top of his lungs for the guards to come, trying to get away from his mad rapist. Bruiser's body followed him, continuing to shoot his load all over the nightgown-clothed Baron, his mind drenched both in pleasure and unlimited shame.
His shame intensified as he heard booming steps coming toward the door, and one of his closest friends... also a bodyguard of the Baron's... bursting through the door, the orc looking wide-eyed at Bruiser, then the scene before him.
"Bruiser, what the fuck?!!" He cried, tackling the fully-enslaved orc to the ground, the other two bodyguards on duty, a pair of rhino-men, stepping in to take his arms, holding him tight even as his member finished its load on the expensive carpet.
"Take him out of here!" Shrieked the soaked Exavier, who was slipping into his bathroom to wash the horrifying mess off of his form. "He's fired! Fired I say, strip him and throw him into the streets like the filth he is!" he roared from the closed door of the bathroom. The rhino men holding onto the orc responded immediately, dragging him bodily from the room, nearly throwing him down the stairs, his spent member almost dragging along the ground. He wanted to cry, he wanted to shout to his once-compatriots of how this was not his fault, that something was wrong with him. The three leading him downstairs were beside themselves with disgust, having no choice but to believe what they saw.
At the front gate, the orc was stripped of his uniform, rougher than they needed to be because the elf woman was holding him still for the treatment, not even making him put up a fight, but keeping a nice, defiant grin on his face the whole time. "You make me sick," his former friend spat on him, and so did the others, kicking him out the gate where he fell like a stone to the ground and lay there, naked as the day he was born.
*****
The poor, jobless orc had found himself back in control when his situation was truly unsalvageable. When the other guards had turned their backs on him and were no longer within shouting range, so that even if he did try to explain his situation with his booming voice, the words would never reach the ears of those who once trusted him. He had not choice but to trod home, after finding some semblance of decency in a newspaper clasped around his waist.
He trudged back to his home with his head down, the usual street traffic stopping to jeer at him, or to laugh quietly behind their hands as he passed. He was ashamed, too embarrassed by his situation to do anything about it. He wanted to sink into a hole for a while, at least long enough for everyone to forget who he was or what he had done. The orc doubted that'd ever happen though. Bruiser could only thank his many long years of service and gratitude from the Baron as credit for him not being publicly flogged for what he had just done, but being fired and having to walk naked down the street were both punishment enough at this point.
Bruiser found himself at his home in much more time than it usually took him to get home from the Baron's mansion. The door was open a little, it figured. He opened it to find the elf woman smiling at him, rage quickly filling his head as he straightened to confront her.
"Oh please, we both know you won't be doing any of that," she said, holding up a hand in a gesture to stop him, this gesture proving to be much more than its nature, as his form seized up immediately, under her control once again. "I hope you're learning something from all of this. Not only should you not try to force yourself onto strange women in bars, but you should value the things that you have already."
She paced around the room, then brushed passed him, closing the door and locking it so that they would be uninterrupted. "Look at all of these things, these nice things that you have!" she exclaimed, combing through his belongings, pocketing little valuable trinkets when she found them. "You have so much to appreciate, yet your mind tells me that you are dissatisfied. So I see that it is not enough that I teach you the meaning of good behavior in the presence of a lady, I should do you a favor and change your life for the better."
She gave herself a full self-tour of his home, taking what she pleased, placing it in a small sack that quickly filled at her side until she could find no more room to put things. "You'll be hearing from me soon. I wouldn't get too comfortable where you are now," she smiled, tapping his flat nose as she passed, grinning wider as she felt his rage trying to break through her psychic hold on him to no avail. The elf left without a word, closing the door behind his still form and padding off until he could no longer hear her footsteps.
He was held a long time after that, the elven bitch keeping him still to ensure her escape, not that searching for her would do him any good if he could manage it. He sighed in heavy release when he could move again, tears overcoming his senses as he sobbed, finally broken by all that had happened today. He lay down on the floor, not even bothering to find his bed, as only a stronger orc deserved such a luxury. He cried for hours, falling asleep when the night filled his apartment with darkness.
*****
Good morning, sleepyhead. There was that damned voice again, snapping him awake as he felt his control drain from his body again. It's time to get started on your life, anew! Let's get you something to eat first, you do yourself no good by starving. He couldn't argue with that logic, his belly growling as he hadn't eaten anything since that night he was drinking so heavily.
She moved his body, getting him up and letting him stretch as he searched his pantry for a meal, assembling it out of the simple fare available and consuming it silently until he was full.
And now a bath...
He found himself getting to his washroom, running the hot water into his basin until it was full, and stepping into it. Rather than relax as he was always apt to do when he had control of his own body, he simply washed, scrubbing away any sign of stink or dirt from his hairy green hide until he was practically glowing.
And now some clothing...
His form dried itself off with one of his big towels, tossing it carelessly on the floor before rummaging around in his clothes, throwing things this way and that as she selected a relatively simple set of breeches, shirt, and belt, along with a pouch or two for some coin.
Look at you being all ready for the world, or at least the next step in your journey. Let's go meet a good friend of mine. He heard in his mind, his form walking toward his door and leaving his apartment, closing the door behind him probably for the last time.
Bruiser was strangely neutral at this point. He felt in his heart that there was simply no point in his struggle to defeat this woman. She had already proved her dominance over him time and time again, and struggling just made him tired, uselessly angry. Besides, he had nothing to lose now. She had stolen his life from him already, both by losing him his job, his friends, and the respect of his neighbors. What else could she really do to him at this point?
His answer started to creep up on him as he was walking, moving toward the merchant district of the town, then toward the medical/body shaping pavilion. He had heard of places like this, where you could come to have different parts of you changed if you wanted. Some liked to alter their genitals, some liked to build their bodies quickly with no work involved. Others enjoyed the simple pleasure of being pierced. Bruiser had never felt the need to change himself, almost seeing his form as the ideal of masculine perfection.
That's exactly what we're here to change today, my dear. You're far to masculine for your new life, we need something new. The voice chimed in, her words filling him with dread, especially as he found himself opening the door to a "Doctor Kimel, alteration procedures."
Offices for these kinds of places were always small in the front with perhaps one or two rooms in the back where the actual procedures took place. This one was no exception. It looked like the doctor himself was manning the front desk as he stood and smiled, an older-looking human man of about six feet in height, but with strong hands. "Welcome, sir, welcome to my establishment. Is there something in particular you're looking for today?" He asked in a warm tone that was just at the edge of sounding elderly but not quite there.
"First, I would like a castration," Bruiser suddenly found himself saying, his mind growling suddenly at the revelation, "need to change my voice to be more feminine, probably get rid of my tusks too, they're far too male for me. Remove my facial and body hair completely, give me breast implants, and reduce the size of my cock to a good small clit size." The orc's voice finally finished. Bruiser was sobbing on the inside, thrashing about in his own mind, begging the elf to stop what she was doing, calling her unsavory things and then quickly apologizing for them in his attempt to bargain and beg his way out of the situation. The tormenting voice said nothing to him though, there was no need to.
The old man seemed flabbergasted, blinking once to make sure that the big mountain of muscle standing in front of him was quite serious about what he had just asked. "I... I don't know whether to take you seriously..." he finally said, looking at Bruiser sideways, a suspicious glint in his eyes.
"No, please, you don't understand what it's like being a little girl orc trapped in a big man's body, please man, help me break free!" Bruiser heard his voice crying out to the doctor, nearly ready to get on his knees to beg. The doctor was still suspicious, until the orc finally did drop to his knees, his hands clasped together, his face screwed up in a mask of torment. "For the love of gods, please help me, man. I'll pay you anything you ask for, just help me realize my vision of beauty!"
Doctor Kimel finally broke at this, sighing. "Well... if you're sure about this, the fee is quite hefty. I usually don't go for full modification like this, and no one's ever asked for such a thing before... It'll be fifty thousand coins up front, though I do take bank notes if you have them handy," he finally said, scratching the back of his thinning hair in confusion.
Bruiser reached into his pouch, pulling out a blank bank note from the pouch and starting to fill out the blank spaces there, signing over nearly his entire life savings in one small piece of paper, then actually signing it before handing it to the doctor. The doctor took the note dubiously, noticing the Baron's insignia watermark on the surface. "Oh my, this is the real deal, isn't it?" he smiled, giddy about the prospect of getting so much business so suddenly. "Well then, come with me sir, we'll have to begin right away if we want to be finished by today!"
*****
She made him watch. She asked through his lips and through his vocal chords to be awake, to watch his transformation take place, and so he did, sobbing internally, struggling even more futily against those firm mental bonds. The doctor took care, keeping him restrained, wearing protective clothing as he sliced into the orc's body, removing parts, putting parts in. Magic and some potions dulled the pain to nothing, though Bruiser could still feel the blade like cold ice slicing into his once-perfect green flesh, his resolve being cut away just as easily as his big, full testicles were.
The place behind his nipples swelled as the doctor pushed those flesh implants into him, explaining to the orc that they would grow in and begin to produce actual milk within a week or so.
He was eternally thankful to the doctor who said that he would need to put him under in order to change his voice and his tusks though, his mind finally slipping into nothingness that he hoped he would never wake up from.
*****
Bruiser's nightmare was far from over, and it began anew as he climbed from the darkness yet again. His first sensations of the world from his unconscious state were dull, painful throbbing in his groin, in his chest, and even in his throat. He groaned a little, but his voice was not what issued from his lips but a faint, high-pitched mockery of what his proud, deep voice used to be. He gasped a little, which just made the pain in his throat worse, resolving not to say anything for now.
He opened his eyes to a dim room, laying on some sort of comfortable couch. His form rustled a little as he moved, his first indication of the bandages that had been placed over various parts of his body. He breathed a sigh of relief through his nose as he saw that his ample musculature was still as he left it, with the exception of the swollen portion at his chest where his new, abominable breasts were.
You're awake, how do you feel? The voice asked, beginning a slow, gentle snicker of amusement in lieu of listening to any answer the Bruiser might have given. The big orc realized for a moment that he had control of himself again before it was stolen right away by that infernal woman, right as he was formulating the desire to shout to the doctor, to explain everything and perhaps undo the terrible damage that had been done to him.
On cue, the elderly human opened the door to the little ‘recovery room,' peaking his head in. "Oh good, you're awake," he said, in a voice that was low and hoarse, probably from a desire to not disturb the big orc too much, "I just wanted to let you know that your payment went through just fine, so you're free to go whenever you feel able to. It was wonderful working with you and I hope you enjoy your new life." Doctor Kimel smiled gleefully, giddy at his new wealth so suddenly and easily given by the orc patient, and walked to his office again, leaving the door partially open.
Bruiser's body started to move, to stand, to stretch, then to collect his clothing and walk out of the office, giving a small nod as he walked past the doctor again. "Come back anytime!" he called as Bruiser left the office and closed the door behind him.
Where are we going now? his mind asked, hoping for at least some conversation with the elven woman. There was none in reply, and only the gentle strides that Bruiser's form took served to show that she was still there, still paying too much attention to him and his actions, especially as she controlled every intimate inch.
Feel that? That lack of swaying in your loins? Her voice instead asked in a taunting tone. He had hoped to avoid thinking about his circumstance, but now that she mentioned it, he could no longer feel anything down there. His manhood completely robbed from him except for a tiny sliver of his length. He could feel all of this, or rather the lack of all of this between his legs, and would have cried softly if he could force his face to cooperate. Mmm, yes, enjoy that feeling, it'll be with you for the rest of your life, remember that. Now, let's find you something more suitable to wear in your new state.
Bruiser guessed where they were going next, his sight turned toward a different area of the merchant's quarter, where the clothing was sold in quantity. Utility clothing, uniforms, dress suits, there was something for everyone and anyone's needs. His sights were immediately turned toward unmentionably skimpy clothing. He found himself trying on skirts that were very small, shirts that would pull up along his midriff to show the abdominal muscles bulging there...
Let's get rid of these bandages, we don't need them anymore... Those dreaded words brought his big hands up to the bandages, gently peeling them away from his breasts first, standing in front of a mirror as the plump, heavy orbs came into view, completely hairless and beautiful if they had not been on himself. He groaned internally at the sight, hoping that they weren't real, that there would be some sort of hooking mechanism that attached them to his body, and that it was just very good make-up that held them in place. There were no hooks, no makeup here. His flesh blended seamlessly around those massive tits, and they were a part of him now.
His big hands filled with their flesh, and he could both feel the weight and softness in his hands and feel them being cupped and played with, arousing him a little, his body betraying his real feelings once again. The reminder of his arousal brought his hands away from those fun bags and down his exposed body to the bandages on his groin, starting to pull them apart gently, letting each strip of gauze fall away from his groin, until it was revealed. A little swollen purple nub no bigger than the size of a human child's pinky lay there, a little engorged from his arousal, but that was it. His once ample genitals were reduced to nothing more than a dark nubbin, not even fit to have sex with a halfling.
What a pretty sight, just look at you. Came the voice as his body swayed this way and that, checking every angle of his new, feminized form, his hands running along his muscles, and then the softer parts of him. He looked ridiculous. Somewhere between a man and a woman, or just a man who decided to whack off his loins and slap on a pair of breasts. The rest of him was still very male, as if he were a female that took far too many steroids, the kind that eventually close up your vulva. I think you need a new name... how about Brunetta? Yeah, Brunetta... be a good dear and buy those clothes now, we need to get you to my house right away.
Brunetta, as he must have been called now, slipped on the clothes he was going to wear, which ended up being a small skirt with no underwear and a tight-fitting top that accentuated his new breasts and left some of his tummy bare. It was an embarrassing set up, and he was humiliated as his form reemerging from the changing rooms drew many a stare from the men and women around him, including some sneers and snickers. Forced to watch the rest of his money, a few coins, being dropped on these clothes, he sighed inwardly, but smiled happily outwardly, then pranced off in his new outfit, shaking his ass the whole way, to the tune of the elf woman's sadistic tempo.
*****
Brunetta had been walking until he felt his calves starting to hurt, thankful that she had allowed him to keep his comfortable walking sandals instead of something horrifying like high-heels. High heels were good for no one, but especially not for orcs, since even the females of the species had large, cumbersome feet. The long walk had taken him past any place that he had ever heard of in the sprawling city, into the red light district, the slums, the brothels, and some of the darker bars and clubs. It was all technically legal here, but it was unclean and looked down upon by society most of the time.
He found himself approaching a small building with many windows, at least four stories in height. The sound of laughter, drinking, and some bad music came from the building. The elf woman opened the door for him, smiling. "Why welcome, my dear Brunetta, it's been so long!" she giggled, playing the long-absent friend figure in this new orc's life. "Won't you come in and have a drink, we have business to discuss!" Her slight form moved from the doorway and ushered him beyond, into a dark hallway lit by a few candles. There were some people meandering there, talking, drinking, telling some raunchy jokes that he couldn't understand maybe. He walked in under her power, there was never any choice in the matter.
The Elf led him into a small room, the furnishings including only a small chair, a large bed that creaked in protest whenever anyone sat on it, and a few candles for light. "This will be your place of business. You are now my prostitute, and I am your pimp." She snickered at him, his silent form sitting on the bed, not moving at all, still under her control. "If you don't like this arrangement, well, that's too bad, because it's going to happen, your new life starts now. I hope you enjoy yourself."
She smirked at him, moving to the door and opening it. There was someone big on the other side. "Oh look, your first client!" She chuckled, winking to Brunetta for the last time.
*****
Brunetta had been at this for years, pulling together an existence out of prostitution, staying out of the public light, disappearing completely. At first, it was horrible. The men that would come were dirty, the women that came were dirtier. Sometimes they were too big to fit, so she would have to do something that was inventive and often painful. Sometimes they wanted to do terribly unsavory things, and she'd have to endure it for the few coins that they had to give her when it was all done. All the while, that control stayed. She was an absolute slave to her mistress, the elf with no name.
Her spirit was so broken, that the one day she suddenly had control, she didn't even realize it, accepting the first client of the day wordlessly, only nodding when the overweight orc told her what he wanted.
"I got a procedure done ‘bout a year ago. The doctor said I can use my wang again now. Thought I'd get it nice and wet in your mouth," he drawled on in a deep, scratchy voice that was drenched in grog. Brunetta only half paid attention, nodding as he removed his pants. She was already nude, clothing was a ridiculous luxury that she could not afford at all, it was only money for food or money for a bath between clients.
The other orc dropped his pants, revealing quite a sight. Through the scraggly pubic hair, Brunetta could clearly see that this orc's sac was enormous. It looked almost unnatural, his dick was a good size, but not as big as the ballsack, there was almost something wrong with it. She got on her knees, a little curiosity in her eyes now. That sac looked so familiar to her for some reason, ringing a bell that she long ago thought had been rusted over.
She curiously cupped her hand under the massive scrotum, feeling the usual pair of heavy orc testicles within... and then two more. The orc had four inside, all four of them nice and heavy, though obviously two different pairs. The first ones were his, the other two... seemed familiar.
"You gonna feel them to death or are you gonna suck?" The impatient male demanded, tapping his dirty cock against her green cheek. It smelled of sweat and other unmentionable things. He could only hope that he hadn't used it to bugger some animal in the ass before coming to see her. She had clients who did that on occasion.
Her hands still wandering over those interesting and familiar balls, her maw descended around that shaft, starting to suck. After so many years, she knew just what to do, her mouth a veritable jock athlete, a master quarterback of the sport of sucking cock and eating pussy. Her talents continued to work on the big orc, making him moan loudly and spurt his gritty, disgusting precum into her throat, almost making her gag. That, too, had been lost some time ago from all the fat heads and other appendages that poked against and often into her throat.
Suddenly it dawned on her... she knew that second pair of orc testicles and that scrotum, because they used to be hers. She was drawing from her own long-forgotten masculinity. Far from being repulsed, for the first time in her existence her in the brothel she felt... arousal... at what she was doing. She groaned, getting into the sucking and applying much more pressure to her client's knob than she normally would, wanting to taste her own masculine seed on her tongue. Her paws were so busy on his loins, that he growled loudly in pleasure, suddenly releasing in a premature ejaculation, coating the inside of her mouth with his spunk.
There was so much of it due to all four heavy-producers swinging between his legs, it was all over the place, drooling from her gaping maw, only a little of it swallowing down her throat. The other orc had nearly doubled over in pleasure from his first release, gasping for breath even as the prostitute between his legs continued to slurp on his groin.
He was empty in moments, and he pushed her away, grinning as he tossed a few coins on the ground. "Mmm, best bitch that I've had in a long time. Maybe I'll come back sometime," he grunted lewdly at her before tucking that maleness away, leaving Brunetta laying in a pool of his semen... her semen.
That's when the realization of her control came to her. She had done all of that of her own free will and enjoyed every moment of it. She was no longer the orc she had grown up as, but this twisted abomination... and she loved it. This was her new life, she wanted it... she wanted to thank that elf dominator... Or kill her...
So conflicted, Brunetta knew that she could never find the elf, nor ever find her way back to the way things were once upon a time. She could only hope that the orc came back with her balls every once in a while, to give her an actual taste of the things that had been. For the first time since she had been fired from her other job, her other life, she curled up on the floor and cried...