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Saul looked around, cracking his knuckles. Even with his bad eyesight, anyone could see that something bad was going down; even without his affinity for maths, anyone would think that something wasn't adding up. More than half the party they had come in with had gone and not come back. "You don't split the party," he thought, cracking his knuckles again. He didn't want to speak up: Chad was busy chatting with Dean, and Will had been talking at him once Larry had buggered off. "Maybe I should have been the one to go back to look for them? Give me something to do other than worry..."

Larry wasn't exactly subtle about being made to go back, but Chad had gotten them all to draw straws, plucking some from a nearby torch. Saul would have volunteered, but Chad had grinned at Larry. "Looks like it's Larry who's the loser!" It made Saul want to shudder. He didn't - he was a legal adult, event though he didn't really feel like a grown-up - but it had shut him up. He'd already been a loser enough through his life. Coming along tonight was supposed to help stop that; that's what his therapist had advised.

When Saul found out where they were going, he'd wanted to laugh. "Try not to be a loser. Go to the nerdiest place ever for a bachelor party." He'd actually been enjoying himself - getting to physically explore a dungeon wasn't something he thought he'd get to do - but he knew he should really be looking forward to the drinks and the women.

Saul stopped for a step, before hurrying to catch up. There hadn't been much in the way of either of those two yet. Saul didn't personally mind too much - women made him nervous and sweaty, and he never really drank often enough to have gotten a taste for it - but the others must have been annoyed about it. Except possibly Chad, who presumably knew what to expect, but had just tapped the side of his nose whenever asked.

"Trip on something?" Will asked Saul. He didn't seem to stop for an answer, though. "I imagine that's a problem a lot of people have down here. The floor's pretty uneven. I imagine if you were wearing high heels - you know, if you were a woman or whatever - it would make things awkward. Maybe they don't get a lot of women coming here, though?"

Saul actually liked that Will would just talk to himself. Personally, he hated talking: it seemed so awkward to have to go back and correct yourself if you started saying the right thing. If Saul had his own way, he'd only ever message people, even if that meant it would take him ten minutes to perfectly craft a reply. Put a keyboard in front of him, Saul thought, and he'd give Will a run for his money. When it came to speaking, Saul was more of a listener.

"Probably not," Saul offered up. It made sense to him: men tended to be more into the dungeon-crawling stuff, and they were here for a bachelor party.

"There's a crossroads ahead," announced Dean.

Saul looked forwards. Two side passages broke away from the one they were following. The lighting wasn't great in this spot, and the shadows had swallowed everything a few steps away from where they huddled together. "So, man of honour," grinned Chad, "which way do you want to go?" He stuck his arm around Dean's shoulder and shook it.

Dean looked down all the corridors that were on offer. He shrugged, "I dunno, they all look the same to me. Anyone got any preference over where to go?"

They all looked between each other. Will, naturally, chipped in. "There's four of us, and four corridors, we could each take one..."

"But we already know where that one goes," Dean pointed out.

"Hey, what if one of us waits here," Chad suggested. "The light doesn't go very far, but three people could check each of the corridor. Just as long as you've got your eyes on whoever's here, you can find your way back."

Saul didn't like the idea at all. "We should..." he started. But Will jumped on it - probably, Saul thought, because it was just a variant on his idea - and Dean didn't seem to care either way. Nerves kept him from saying any more. Instead, Chad produced the straws, and they each took one.

Chad got left with the short straw. He went to stick it in his mouth, then realising his mistake made a face and took it out. "Alright guys, eyes closed, arms out, first one to grab something soft and supple wins."

"Smooth, Chad, real smooth," Dean chuckled. Chad pushed him down one passageway. Will took the next one, leaving Saul to turn around with the one that was left.

"This is a bad idea," Saul thought, stepping forwards. The dark seemed to creep towards him, sending fingers as the flame flickered. There were far more sensible ways that they could go about doing this than what they were doing: keeping one hand on the left or right wall, marking the stones with something before backing up and looking down the next passageway. That meant the other guys could catch up without getting lost, and it meant they wouldn't have to separate to check all of the passageway.

Saul's whole body tingled, the hairs on the back of his neck small spikes standing on end. He cracked his knuckles as he stepped across the stones, his breath and heartbeat filling his ears. He was close to where the light started to fade. He reached around, slowly sliding forward in case the floor gave way or there was a tripwire or something. There wasn't a door, unless it was a secret door with a hidden latch, but Saul would never found that until he stumbled on it.

"Hey!" Saul recognised Will's voice. Saul spun in place: Chad was gone, but he heard another yelp coming from somewhere. He turned, stepping back towards the intersection; then hands - heavy, strong hands - fell on his back.

"Puny man!" grunted a voice. The hands hoisted him easily off the ground; Saul was folded over a broad shoulder, easily the width of Saul's body. Massive muscles ripples as the strong stranger carried him deeper into the darkness. Saul flailed about, scrabbling to gain traction, only the stranger's skin was slick with sweat, and each movement made him slip and splat against the muscles, the potent stench oozing from the round armpit infesting his nose and mouth as he tried to breathe.

Still, he wasn't just going to stand here and do nothing. He tried to kick, or grab on to something. The stranger was huge and very, very naked; his hands slapped down onto wet buttocks, and there was nothing he could feel wrapped around the waist. He felt about with both hands: the buttocks were round and broad, and peppered with long, coarse body hairs.

A broad chin brushed up against Saul's narrow buttocks; a thick beard ran in between his legs. If he wasn't so busy trying to squirm away, he might have laughed as it tickled his buttocks. With his struggles, his shirt slowly slipped down, the big stranger's sweat sliding over his skin. It stank, and Saul wondered how long he'd have to wash before he could get that smell out of him. "If I get out of here," he thought glumly. He flopped down.

"Stay still, little man!" the stranger urged, speaking directly into his butt. The chin moved; Saul felt it wedge his legs apart. It was wide, felt far too wide for a human jaw. Thick drool ran over his pants. The hand gripping his legs was big too. Saul knew he was a small, thin guy, but he wasn't that small or that thin. His captor was huge.

Saul's shirt continued to inch down towards his head, more of the slimy sweat rubbing off on him. A scent somehow cut through that, telling the most primitive parts of Saul's brain two facts: that his captor, whatever it was, was male, and that it was horny. The musk was like a cloud, flowing around his body, and so Saul's as well.

The potent smell triggered a memory: Saul was back in the boys' changing rooms at school. The changing rooms were used a lot by sports teams, both with the school and for local sporting events. It had been open for a long time, decades of manly musk and sweat soaking into the wood and walls, as though the very air itself was a hot, sweaty armpit. This was that smell in its purest form: the essence of masculinity.

Saul's body swayed, his nose squashed up against the broad, bristly muscles of his back. He squirmed, an odd shudder passing through his body. His shirt hung around his neck, damp from his huge, horny captor's sweat. This time, it didn't trigger a memory, but a raw emotion: his captor was aroused, very aroused, by his presence, and he needed to do something about it. If he didn't something was going to be done to him, and he didn't want that at all.

"Stop!" Saul yelped. His heart was pounding, his own armpits starting to feel damp. His captor's body radiated warmth: it might have been the muscles, or just being horny, or maybe Saul had spent too long without personal company. It was oddly comforting. For that brief moment, he needed to talk.

His captor stopped. "What you say, little man?"

Saul was surprised; he didn't expect that to work. It took him a while to respond. "Stop! Put me down!" After a while, he added a nervous. "P-please..." He was shaking, licking his lips. The sweat ran into his mouth. It was salty, dirty, grimy, manly. The large hands, with thick, curled, almost claw-like fingernails, grabbed the loop of his belt. He felt himself being lifted up at his waist, smacking one final time against the muscular body before hanging in the air.

Saul's captor grunted, the muscles in the arm straining as he deposited Saul on the ground. His foot tremored as he touched the ground. He could barely hear his foot hit the stone with the roar of his nervous heart battering on his eardrums. It wobbled about for a bit as he tried to wipe his face clean. It just made his face feel rubbery. His shirt scratched up against his shaking chest as he pulled it down, trying to maintain a hint of respectability.

Looking around, Saul saw the vague outline of his captor. He supposed his eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom, seeing a shimmering outline of a large, heavily-muscled human figure. The arms went well past where a humans would have stopped, the shovel-sized hands hanging open. What little light there was seemed to flow around the damp skin; he could see the large, wide jaw and the thick jaws sticking out. The face was brutish and dumb, a heavy forehead creased with confusion as to why the "little man" was saying, possibly, or why he had dared to talk back.

"An orc," Saul thought. He'd played enough fantasy games to recognise one, more or less. He didn't want to be impolite - he had no idea what this creature called himself and his kind - but that was the first label to come to mind, looking at that not-human-enough shape. The short, thick legs stomped. Musk smacked Saul in the face as something, which he couldn't see but could guess what it was, swayed back and forth. He also sensed something between them, hard and throbbing, and from the warmth coming off of it, very large and thick.

"What you want?" The orc asked. Saul noted he had stopped calling him "little man", wondering maybe he had earned some respect.

"I want..." Saul paused, scratching at his chest. The orc's body heat was almost contagious, leaving him feeling hot and itchy all over. It made him hard to think. "I want..." He started again, finding it hard to think. He felt uncomfortable standing in front of the orc, almost as though he were the one who was naked. "I want... I want you to turn around." That would be best, he thought. At least the orc wouldn't be looking at him then.

The orc's brow furrowed; he grunted, then a large smile appeared. His tusks gleamed with saliva, as did his large, flat teeth. "Yeah! Yeah!" He shuffled, lifted up his arms to try to turn in the narrow corridor. More of his strong, manly musk filled the air.

"Stop!" Saul cried out, freezing the orc in place, arm raised up. He leaned in, breathing it in as it wafted over him. Saul felt his body shudder, his clothing feeling tight and confining. He'd been nervous all of his life, but now, with this huge thug - a fucking orc, no less - was listening to him. That surprising power, that authority, felt incredibly exciting. Saul shifted his hips, not noticing consciously that his dick was squirming around in his underwear.

Saul approached him slowly. His nostrils were twitching wildly, the scent absorbing into his lungs. His heart beat faster, hands reaching up to fumble at the shirt that felt uncomfortable. His hand fumbled awkwardly, as though it wasn't used to it. He raked down the middle, buttons popping off and spraying in the dark. His once-scrawny chest shifted out, relief as muscle and fuzz spilled out. Grabbing the muscular body of the orc, Saul pressed himself up, shoving his face into the wide armpit, breathing in deeply, letting the sour wetness of manliness wash over him.

Orc's sweat ran down Saul's chest properly as he hugged the orc's side, sliding around from that, almost humping it. His cock swelled in his pants, which continued to tighten around his growing legs. He wasn't aware of this, though; he was just so excited that his tongue had finally loosened. He had found someone to listen to him. To obey him. Saul moaned, the tips of his canines peeking over his lips. They grazed up against the soft, bulging flesh; it was as if a bee had stung him, grazing against his lips.

"More." Saul's brain lit up with that one word. He needed more of the musk. As big and broad as the armpit was, it didn't seem enough. Shaking out of his shirt - as much as he could, his arms had swollen and thickened so much that he couldn't pull the sleeves off - he slipped around, moving towards the front, rubbing his crotch against the thick leg that, slowly, didn't seem so thick or big as it had. "Stay there!" he demanded, his voice rumbling and cracking.

"Okay," the orc agreed. With how aroused Saul had suddenly become - the tenting of his pants was acute despite how tight they had already become - he barely heard the growing submissiveness, only parsing it on an instinctive level. He squatted down, the seam of his pants straining as the point at the tent started becoming sticky and wet. Thick sweat ran down Saul's overheated body, squeezing the huge body in front of him, sliding his chest against the thick, meaty muscles until the gap between his legs straddled the thick orc cock underneath. It bent and flexed, despite being rock-hard, as Saul slid over it. His pants stained with the orc's aroused emissions; the insides of his legs felt sticky.

Suddenly, Saul's pants split, tearing along the seams. Once-scrawny legs writhed like bags of warm as the lopsided growth of muscles strained. Lines showed on his skin, cracks where the human parts weren't large enough to hold his insides in. The new skin seemed coarser, thicker, with rough hairs spearing out of them. His cock jutted out, bigger than Saul would have remembered if he could, thickening as it rubbed up against the orc's body.

Dropping onto his enlarged hands, Saul fell on top of the orc's cock. He reached down, giving him an appreciative stroke. He had to - no, he wanted to - show the orc that he had done a good thing. "You did... you do good," Saul grunted, reaching his arm up to wipe the drool away from his face. The orc's cock-head was also drooling, as was the orc himself. He was standing there dumbly, waiting for Saul's next command. When he realised this, Saul grunted. "Good." Warm stickiness trickled from Saul's shaft, as he orc's left a line of pre-cum on Saul's swelling chest.

The Saul that landed on the ground had already grown half as large again as the one that had arrived here, and was still gaining strength and mass. Pectorals inflated, stretching against the skin like two slowly-inflating balloons. Delts, biceps, triceps and forearms bulged out, ripping the arms of his shirt to shreds. Thick veins appeared, running underneath the skin. Round gluteals pushed out as he squatted down, the orc's cock bouncing up, spraying a line of pre-cum on Saul's back. His own throbbed, blood pulsing through it as it stretched and ached, hungry to be put to use.

Saul twisted around, his broad back sliding underneath the orc, right into the musky slime around the orc's broad, flat, hairy feet. He knew that was where all that wonderful, sweaty orc-juice was collecting, running down his body, along with the excited orc juices oozing from that cock. His own added to it as he squeezed underneath. It seemed to crawl up his back, embracing him as he squirmed underneath. Growing hands grasped onto the orc's ankles.

Pushing his head up, he let the sweat run down his blossoming chest. Saul buried his broadening face into the orc's thick rump. The orc, finally wondering what he had in mind, asked, "What you do?"

Saul gave him a hard smack, fingernails thickening and bulging, with his hand. "Do what me say," he grunted back, his spreading nostrils flaring in annoyance. Saul's brain was blurring, lost to lust. He didn't care that he was speaking and looking and smelling like the orc. In that moment, he just wanted to shove his face into the orc's ass and use his fattening tongue to taste the sweat between the big, round cheeks. It touched the hole, puckered but surprisingly pliable. Then Saul knew what he wanted.

Sliding out from underneath, his back still dripping, he grabbed onto his erection. He gave his juicy member a squeeze, using his hand to smear his thick pre-cum over the purple, swollen head. His other hand grabbed onto the orc's shoulders, no longer so much shorter than his captor. Only now, he was the one in control. He pressed the thick head of his cock against the hole, groaning and grunting like a horny pig. He was hot, so hot, as he pushed in. "Open wide!"

"Yes, boss," the orc grunted back. Saul heard him grunt as he forced himself into the orc's guts. He sunk in a little, his cock straining hard. He wanted to get inside, to feel that heat unblocked by skin or anything else. He wanted to dominate the orc. He had never dominated anyone before. The orc was big; he would be bigger. The orc was musky; he yearned to be muskier. Stronger, smarter, all these things pumped through his body.

Saul pushed in deeper. He groaned, barely noticing as his glasses fell away from his head. His ears were almost comically large as they stabbed out of the side of his head like pointed spears. Locks of hair tumbled off his head, a thicker beard seeming to replace it as his tusked grin was broken by his slobbering tongue. His broadening calves raised up as he bent the orc over as his bulk grew. Bearing down felt easier, more natural. The other orc was groaning as Saul's cock stretched him out, the tip of his shaft delving deeper into his guts.

With his all that wonderful sweat dripping down the Saul's body and the orc's body, it didn't take too much to lubricate Saul's bucks and grunting thrusts. The orc grunted and whined. They bent over, Saul reaching around for the orc's thick club and gave it a squeeze as the orc squeezed down on his as he pushed it in more. "You like, boss?" the orc asked.

"I like," Saul replied back.

They didn't talk any more, turning back to growls and grunts and grimaces as they continued to fuck. Saul's erection burned from all the hot juices as his manhood swelled to fill and stretch the inside of the orc's hole. Saul squeezed harder, enjoying the heavy body underneath. It made it easier to let go and really fuck properly. Their bristles rubbed against each other, sending little shocks through their thick skin. Saul could barely contain his excitement. His balls were swollen, full of hot seed aching to be let out, collecting in them as they grew along with the rest of him. The skin holding them together was strained, slick from sweat and other thing. But Saul wanted - needed - to really dominate him. To bury every inch of his massive cock in the orc, and fill his guts with that fluid.

That happened as soon as Saul's hips grazed up against the orc's rump. It was as though his body was overtaken by an electric shock. He bent back his head and howled, balls jostling around in his sack like startled rabbits. His cock erupted in the orcs ass, and his grip on the orc firmed, like his own muscles firming up as he banged away, their bodies smashing together as their sweat and sexual fluids dripped between their bodies.

"Gruh... gruh... boss..." the orc moaned. Then the air was even more rank with that musky scent which just drove Saul wide. It felt like he had climaxed, cock gushing constantly for minutes as he continued to stroke the other orc's cock until it started to soften in his hand, hot orc cum dripping through his fingers.

Pulling out, Saul locked his cum-coated fingers. Liking the taste, he ordered, pointing at his own slimy cock. "You, lick!"

The orc grunted, dropping onto his hands and knees. "Yes, boss!" he grunted back.