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"Ma'da! Ma'da!"

A cry, a little blue-skinned form passed through the crowd within the sprawled street of the grand Bazaar: creating ripples in the sea of faces and clothes, eliciting cries from adults and vendors alike, wavering the shimmering variegated robes until that little spark disappeared.

A moment of trouble in a large city whose size was hard to fathom or even more to explore. Despite the Priests' blessing to explore the capital a handful of days ago, the young Troll still discovered something new by passing through a different alleyway or by using another flight of stairs. But that was Zuldazar for him, a city built to house the heart of the Troll civilization and where he had been welcomed due to his Drakkari heritage.

Leaving aside the parapet he had been leaning over, Twiggy walked up the stairs leading north-east, soon to tread northward until he reached the overbearing golden Ziggurats, ascended their endless steps. Through his exploration and walk on the elaborate tiles, mosaics depicting scenes of conflicts and conquests, trolls of various descent darted their eyes at him, the last Drakkari, intrigued.

Much like any other troll, Twiggy sported tusks, long ears, and an emaciated body. But that was the end of the comparison. Most males would slouch on their way, their pendulous arms beside their body; however, Twiggy stayed upright with a lengthened gait, and so stood his ears atop of his head, adorned by tufts of white fur sprouting from their tip.

His hair, white and pristine, flowed in his back like did the robe he had been gifted: an intermingling of red and golden folds tying over his neck and shoulders before they fell on his lithe chest and legs in an attempt to cover his blue fur.

Some species of Troll possessed moss on their skin or had a pronounced pilosity, but none sported a hirsute celeste-blue fur all over his body mottled with tufts of white hair. Nor did they naturally sport claws in the guise of nails, a fluffy tail, or even digitigrade feet supported by pink pads.

No, Twiggy was an oddity, and his golden gaze met with anyone who glanced at him before he offered them a tentative of a smile. In vain, mostly.

"Tell me, Zinjo. Do you think my posture intimidates them?" asked the young Troll in a perfectly articulated Orcish while meeting eyes with his bodyguard over his shoulder. The said Zinjo cocked an eyebrow, stretched his slouched back for a second... Then sighed: "'cannot tell, T'iggy. Dat be o'ther reasons ta be intimidated by ya. But ya will make de priests angry if ya not move."

Defeated, the young troll returned to his calculated steps while ascending one of the smallest Ziggurat, serving as his temporary dwelling after the priests had invited him here. Despite his attempts to interact with the fairly bland Zinjo, a hunched forest troll with a mossy skin, a bald head, and a long braided green beard, he never got anything from the man. Mostly due to language barriers since he only spoke in Orcish to indulge Twiggy... Well, nobody spoke in Orcish in the Troll capital lest it was to converse with foreigners. And Twiggy.

When both passed by a procession of priests, covered in flamboyant purple dresses, the Drakkari barely understood a word over dozens exchanged in hilarity.

"I wonder what they say," remained an internal query for the young troll ever since he was here... But asking for an interpreter would be against Twiggy's wishes. How could he learn a culture if never experienced it or witnessed it through the narrow window of an interpreter?

"Where do we go? They probably are waiting me i-"

"Common baths. Dey wait ya there, da servant told me."

Twiggy frowned. If he wanted to meet with the priests, he had to enter the grand doorway, decorated with mosaics depicting various acts of veneration, and head straight when he got the opportunity.

That time, he had to go left. Opposite to the Priests' chambers were baths, bedrooms, and amenities dotted on guests such as him.

The Priests never went left. Even if they called on a private meeting, they were sending servants to pass a message. Having them on this side of the Ziggurat intrigued him...

As much as when he saw them gathered in the middle of the furnished corridor. All of them, All Akunda's priests: Jukan, his head shaven and whose gray body bulged with power; Ushi, small with one glassy eye marred by a scar and slick green hair pressed against his skull; Tralze, the youngest with an everlasting grin whenever he glanced at Twiggy, his purple hair held in a knot. And there were more, but none of their names struck the Drakkari. He barely interacted with those.

"Ah! Twiggy! We were waiting for you," began Ushi in a distinctive Orcish while eyeing the Drakkari's body up and down. He almost had Twiggy's size, but he was clearly stronger.

"Ah! I didn't know you were all waiting for me. Is- Is there something important in the baths?"

"Ah, da not worry, T'iggy," intervened Tralze while approaching the young Drakkari and wrapped a hand over the shoulder, ushering the lad toward the room. "Remember what we told ya 'bout the Drakkari? We miss dem much, and ya wil' help. Dere be a play fo' ya."

"What my acolyte says is we require your presence for one of our most important rituals, young Twiggy. But first, we must confirm if you are fit for such a ritual."

"Uh..."

The Drakkari's stammer stopped when the hand on his shoulder dragged him forward without waiting for his approval. No, Tralze was not waiting for Twiggy to accept, and it was with a purpose as all of them, Zinjo included, entered the shared baths.

Usually, that steaming room was brimming with servants. Many would relax around the furthest and biggest pool on the wooden benches placed here and there. Everyone would enjoy the steam coming from the hot water while some would enter smaller pools. Their temperature wavered due to a constant cold stream through the pipework, making it easier to carry the grime and dirt away. But today, they were alone while Twiggy was ushered by one of the lukewarm pools. And Tralze released him.

All thirteen looked at him expectantly. Tralze grinned, Zinjo scowled and kept his hunched posture, Ushi seemed fascinated by Twiggy's sweeping tail. However, it was Jukan, the eldest of all, who spoke with a resounding voice: "What ya be waitin', mon?"

A remark that threw Twiggy off-guard as he stood at the pool's edge, his paw pads damp.

"Uh? What do you want for me?"

"Strip, Twiggy! We have to examine you!"

Ushi's order was met with a few comments from the other priests in Zandali. Even Jukan scowled as much as Zinjo now. They watched as Twiggy glanced at his robe with lowered ears and exposed teeth.

"Can... Do you all have to be here? It's... A bit crowded here," he remarked with a slight scoff, his tail flailing the air with intensity. Which grew when Zinjo approached: "Ya wil' thank me."

In a few words, the forest troll's massive hand reached for Twiggy's robe. Within his coarse fingers, he caught all golden and red folds before tugging on them. The Drakkari nearly fell forward from it... Before a violent shredding noise resonated and silenced the running water.

In Zinjo's hand were strands of the gifted robe... And on the ground were the remaining ones, leaving Twiggy bare and naked before the council, who glanced at him.

Red in the face and ashamed, Twiggy instantly reached to cover his groin with both hands while showing his teeth. But his bodyguard was already walking away while calling off the priests in Zandali. Something surely similar to: "He's all yours."

In return, the priest approached. Their large hands reached for his body, their eyes focused on him... Especially on his groin as they pulled on his arms and hands, commenting to themselves.

"Wai- Wait! Let me go! I didn't accept this!" he squealed in surprise while trashing against their touch. Until the trolls pried his hands away and uncovered what he had been hiding.

"Let yourself be, we need to save the Drakkaris," ordered Ushi, his hands creeping closer to Twiggy's private parts, feminine parts.

It was how Twiggy was born: instead of sporting a manhood like any of his peers, the young Troll bore bits fitting for a female yet with the body of a male. Such occurrences were rare, and some were simply called cuntmen due to their nature. And their fertility never questioned...

However, it wronged him to be examined without modesty. So many hands reached for his body, their gazes scrutinizing while mouths commented in a language he had never learned. All around, the priests watched and picked on details: they touched the fur over his body, ears, tusks. They even pulled his tail and gave his sensitive pads a few strokes... But worse was Ushi's hands against his nethers.

More than watching, Twiggy sensed those rigid fingers reach the corners of his pink labia and pull on the skin. And seemingly satisfied with the reaction, the Old Troll continued his examination.

First came the outer folds, soft and delicate. Under the expert touch, the flesh bent and gave way. A mere caress brought a jolt through Twiggy's spine. He had been touched there before... But. Never in such a situation. It wasn't borne of love but a clinical examination as another digit crawled onto the outer labia and pulled on it until the pinkish flesh was entirely exposed. The wavering inner folds were moist, tensile, and so sensitive they made the Drakkari wince as he desired nothing but to shut his legs together, halting that invasion of his privacy.

But he couldn't, not with the hands reaching for inside his thighs, palpating and massaging the muscles at work. They maintained his legs spread, his groin exposed... And soon, another hand joined Ushi's in exploring his vulva. With two sets of fingers, it became easy to hook both labia on both sides and pull them apart. Steamy air rushed to the opening, stealing a moan from Twiggy, who threw his head back. The sensation was intense. His clawed fingers clenched on the hands exploring his palms. Then, his weight shifted. He was falling and yet retained by all those males who bolstered him in a precarious stance, letting him writhe in pain and pleasure while some stretched his moist and tender orifice.

And no longer did.

Suddenly, the hands withdrew from his sensitive and raw orifice, leaving it loose and gaped. No longer could Twiggy ignore his inner walls' moistness, the taut muscles of his vagina... And his numbed legs. All around him, as he nearly laid on his back, Twiggy heard those Zandalari mutters while riding that strange sensation of... Fullness. One spoke, perfectly articulated: "You are no virgin, are you?"

"N- No."

"Typical of the savages. But we are not judging a ripe broodbearer when we see one. You are lucky, Twiggy. You will be the mother of the Drakkaris' future."

The young Troll gulped... Loudly. At least he could breathe and swallow. He looked down at Ushi. Then Jukan took his turn inspecting the gaped orifice and even pointing out the erected clitoris poking from between the folds, a little red nubbin.

"... What?"

"Da not fret, youn' Drakkari. Ya won' be alone for lon'. Ya tribe be gone, but ya will rear a new one."

"What?!"

Twiggy cries resonated in the baths, akin to a roar. All conversations and inquiries shut down.

"You are the last one of the Drakkaris. Your tribe was slaughtered by the scourge and their culture taken away. But the Loas blessed Zandalar by bringing you to us. Praised be Akunda!"

"Praised be Akunda," repeated Tralze, his soft hand brushing the blue fur. "We work so har' ta protect da history of the Trolls. 'Ven if savages o' primal, dis is important ta protect de legacy. Dat is why ya must bear new Drakkaris."

"But I did not accept this! Why are you forcing me to do this?"

Wrestling and thrashing, Twiggy pulled his limbs away but encountered resistance: Those priests were stronger than they looked. However, this stopped when Jukan gave way to Zinjo. Twiggy's bodyguard, the shadow always close by during his exploration of the Capital. A rugged forest Troll used to war and conflict with the scars he bore: from puncture, blade, fire. And where he did not, he possessed turquoise body hair sprouting from his chest, a hefty padding, and extending downward: reaching those ample pubes, covered with sweat and steam. Zinjo was naked: his pendulous balls swung left and right like two boulders crowned by a monstrous cock. The bulbous red tip dripped with fluids slathering the foreskin's folds, the veiny length, the bushy scrotum. And it reeked, no... The whole place reeked with a trollish musk.

"See, T'iggy. We be kind ta let ya have a proud male for ya. Zinjo knows how ta please lesse' females."

"But you left us no choice, young Drakkari. We cannot wait for you to be swooned by a proper male. It may hurt you, but so will us. But worry not. We will ensure this is not done in vain."

"Let me go! You cannot do this! People will know! You will be punished! This is my body!"

"Oh, but we can, mon," added Jukan. "Ya can't ignore ye duty."

A comment completed by Zinjo's heavy steps, loud and resonating like one of an executor. A man whose duty was heavy and weighted on him. A troll who grasped his tremendous cock with both hands. That man, that troll... He was so big. His cock was akin to a mace, and when it approached Twiggy's groin, it literally dwarfed him in comparison. With a glance, the young Troll could see that cock covered most of his abdomen by its mere presence.

And... They wanted it inside?

"This is too big! It will hurt me! Let me go! IT WILL K-... HHhhhGnnfh-"

The thrashing, the cry, the roar. All stopped and turned into a shallow inspiration from Twiggy. His spine arched in a stupor: never before had he felt such tension in his backside and experienced the sensations of muscles brutally waking up. And yet... Nothing. No pain, horror, cry.

All muffled by the cocktip squeezing through the outer lips, the inner... And brushed, rammed inside his vagina.

Twiggy had no words, no way to express it. He was unable to breathe, his filled lugs were about to explode. He gasped, he inhaled, he swallowed the air while everything dragged on. The tip pushed within his vulva and rubbed inside him like no one had before. Humans, orcs, even goblins, they could not compare to him. Nothing could have prepared him to feel his vulva crushed from the inside. It pressed the walls, guts, and bladder until it, too, added to the wave of pain jolting through.

"Breath' T'wiggy! Breath'!"

But Twiggy couldn't. His fingers wrangled and twitched, his tail swept and contorted, his head hit back and nearly knocked out one of the priests... And his chest rose as his body curved. He gasped one last time. And a rattle escaped his mouth, an odious moan from his tormented vocal cords sounding like metal scraping against metal. Only then did the Drakkari's lungs empty and his chest lower one bit.

But the sensation of being fucked by something so intense didn't dissipate. Not even a second. However, his body returned to him and his senses like a veil removed.

"He be okay?" gruffed Zinjo, his voice so distant. With a huff, Twiggy raised his head to see the Forest troll halfway inside but halted. Through his disheveled hair, he saw the tinge of apprehension on the warrior, which grew into circumspection then acceptance under the Priests' encouragement.

And again, the man thrust. This time, however, only a gasp came and went. A moment of surprise, a lapse in control while Twiggy kept his eyes on the gruff Troll, now plunged to the hilt. And it felt so wrong for the Drakkari. That brute was bigger than Twiggy in every way, his dick immense. And here, he watched his belly taut and bulge from that massive cock. His bristled fur couldn't hide the form through his skin, nor did it make it easier to ignore the sensation of... Fullness he experienced.

So full that even taking a breath took an effort. To think, to act... Thinking. He couldn't even think about his split vulva, an orifice now wasted on smaller species. Twiggy exhaled, swung his head to move aside his sweat-caked hair from his face.

"Le-... Let me go," he huffed and growled, looking left and right for the trolls who held him still.

"No can do, T'iggy. Ya will be breed today."

"Well, I don't feel li-... Hrmp-ohhh"

The dick within slid, pulled away. And in its wake, rubbed his sensitive inner walls again, pulled on them. Moreover, there were the troll's pubes tingling his erected clitoris and the sensitive folds of his inner labia. It sparked something, it brought a sensation different to the simple filling. And despite what he thought and wanted, Twiggy's expression melted.

That... that was good. It was hot. It burned. In its retreat, that massive cock managed to tick the Drakkari's spots and steal gasp after gasp. Until there was nothing but emptiness. An empty hole, so gaped and dulled he couldn't clench it or halt the brimming air rushing to his insides. He shuddered.

"Hhh-... By... The light."

"See 'mon, he be good. Now... Take ye duty."

The Troll's unfocused eyes returned to Zinjo. He watched the warrior rub his monstrous dick against his tenderized and moist orifice, brushed what he had wracked a moment ago. A terrifying vision soon to be occluded by... Something.

Something big, warm, pressed against his face. It throbbed, it reeked, it... Tantalized the Drakkari to open up. More so when a pair of fingers pinched his nose and forced his mouth to open. And a salty and sweaty tip pushed between his tusks. Its taste was intense. It clung to his tongue. From it, precum poured, slathered over his tongue and tastebuds until only that taste remained when his nose was let go and that musk hit him. Earthy, slightly tangy to the tongue, with touches of spices to his nostrils.

Or perhaps that was the other cock being rubbed against his face? He couldn't say, he couldn't see anymore as his head was lowered. That bushy groin rubbed against his chin, and... Something weighted on his face. It... It was awful, it was terrible, it was shameful to be used by it.

But Twiggy no longer fought as he swallowed the cock sliding within his mouth and throat until it bulged through. Until those musky and big testicles rubbed against his nose and eyes, promptly marring them with that trollish but masculine stench.

One he huffed through weak rumbles.

"Let yourself go, Twiggy. You were made for this."

Ushi's distant voice graced the Drakkari the instant each hand was entrusted a cock. Each padded palm felt the weight of a slimy cock weighting on them, and his fingers closed by hands... And then used. Unable to defend, Twiggy felt his throat invaded and his hands used as mere toys. He moaned.

He moaned in pleasure when all that perversion and pleasure rippled through him. Zinjo was back inside, was back filling him. He wasn't empty anymore, he wasn't sore.

No, he was full. Filled. Stuffed.

That trollish cock spread his labia thin, squeezed them... And nothing could compare to that delight of sensing that steady back and forth. A movement carefully maneuvered, slowly enough not to hit the back of Twiggy's vulva. And then, Zinjo wiggled his hips, brushed the moist lining, and rubbed those folds. Shivers coursed through Twiggy's backside before reaching his brain and... He moaned anew, or grumbled. A signal strong enough for the Forest troll to stop all pretense and start what he had been for... This was the moment.

SMACK! Echoed the sound of the testicles hitting that firm ass. A bang of pain suddenly heated the Drakkari's flesh and pervaded through his nethers. Only for another to come, another smack, another hit, another spike of pain and heat. All in a tempo marked Twiggy's breathing: In, he moaned; Out, he gasped. And so rose his satisfaction and suffering.

A tempo whose intensity and pace grew by leaps and bounds until it felt like a fight, a conflict. Like a beast ceaselessly wrangling against Twiggy's inside. A brute, a monster, a relentless force of nature. Sweat, fluids, precum... From the shock flew those fluids and slathered those around, leaving behind reddened cheeks.

Muffled screams came from the writhing Drakkari. Two fire, two sensations were roaring within him. One intensifying, one dull, and yet none entirely silencing the others. Twiggy sensed his body devoured, his mind reduced to a haze of awakening desires. His tongue began its dance and twirled against the shaft deeply wedged within. Against his tastebuds, sweat and salt slowly dissipated to disclose the aroma of that Trollish skin, more subtle and delicate.

His hands, left idle, moved: they grasped and squeezed, they felt and weighed what had been entrusted to them. And they finally tugged. They firmly held those pads close to the veiny shaft until the foreskins folded and released the precum from within, along with their intense scent. From the release, the soft pads slicked and skimmed over those rugged dicks.

His captors' restraints released, their grip undone while Twiggy moved his whole arms until only came from those priests' weak buckings. And moans... Moans in ample amounts, for their plangent voices seemed to carry levity, satisfaction, delight... They had their whore, Twiggy was their whore.

Coarse digits came. Not on his body but on his face. A thumb brushed his chin before it joined its brother within the Drakkari's mouth. It was the man he was sucking. That man happily used the open mouth and stuffed that throat. That man gripped the blind Troll by the jaw. And humped his head.

All over his visage, precum, and saliva were slathered by the man who bucked and fucked.

His veiny cock rubbed against the palate, then the tongue, before it pulled away and caressed the lips. A kiss, a moment of breathing before he plunged within and slapped his massive testes onto Twiggy's face. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

The sound rattled through the Drakkari's skull, silencing any other except for the huffing man who kept that mouth open. That man whose cock appeared and disappeared from beneath that throat, whose rhythm quickened. And whose voice broke in a groan. He came. One thick and acrid load, one cock. Soon to be replaced by another.

Barely had Twiggy managed to swallow the fluid and fill his stomach that he sensed another pulsating organ pressing on his lips. Another musk delight that spurted precum for him to taste and savor. He was a tool of pleasure and perversion, whence pulsating shafts were hilted, cleaned, massaged, then satisfied. The second man didn't wait for Twiggy to adapt and be used to the sudden invasion. That troll rushed inside, hammered that open mouth, and laughed at the Drakkari's gurglings.

What he had in his stomach, Twiggy also had it slathered all over his palms, fingers, claws. The other priests, too, ejaculated onto him. The viscous liquid spread, stuck to his delicate fur, and joined his knuckles. And when he outstretched his fingers, it was only for a shuffle and another couple of men to produce their cocks. He was to be used by all of them in all the ways.

But one that didn't move or halt was Zinjo. His shaft pulsated and throbbed within him. A tender warmth crushing his guts. And that troll, that warrior, would breed him until he was pregnant.

Whenever Zinjo rammed inside, it was for his presence to rattle the Troll's convictions and opposition. And to experience that weight against his vagina's sensitive end, to sense it ram against a virginal place. The Forest troll was trying to push through an orifice too small for this purpose, but the man kept brushing and rubbing his tip at each thrust.

It should have hurt, it should have wounded the Drakkari. However, there was only the pervasive heat, flooding and conquering his cunt. And the jolt whenever his bodyguard pushed it within.

"Ma'Da."

Twiggy heard that word above him. Hands brushed his fur, pinched his nipples, and rubbed his belly. A word he barely heard before another cock was forced into his throat, and the smacking testes silenced his world anew.

He... Then... Zinjo's thrusts slowed down, then came to a stop. No more shock or rattling, no more tingle of ecstasy. It ended in a final growl and a thrust. A final one and an ejaculation.

A moment when his cunt was overfilled with fluids, so taut it hurt and troubled him. It was about to explode. He was so filled, so stuffed. Nothing could appease, could stop the-

POP!

Like an uncorked bottle, his vulva had been released. Cum poured out from the cramped orifice like a cascade. He had been fucked, he had been bred. Twiggy would have sighed if not for the dick inside his mouth and scrapping his uvula.

But then, his weight shifted anew. His back was lifted a tad more, and his numb legs lifted. There, he felt it... Two cocktips rubbing his vulva, two smaller cock... And another voice, Jukan's: "Hah! Bi'ch be loose. But we not done."

They thrust.

+---+

Barely covered with an ample robe made to adapt his gravid body, Twiggy was only at ease whenever he was on the bed and leaning sideways: one leg bent and the other outstretched. A position one would consider unfit, but it didn't matter for the Drakkari as his fingers passed past his gravid and branded belly to caress his swollen and moist lips, feeling them under his claws.

Again his cunt burned with lust. And tonight, even his fingers barely appeased it.

"Again, Twiggy? You primitives are so needy!" echoed Tralze's voice in Zandali, followed by the ruffle of someone joining him into the bed. "You can't behave when we're not here."

With his back turned toward him, the Drakkari could have kicked the Priest away... Instead, he turned his head and welcomed the tongue prodding his lips.

For a moment, their breaths intertwined, and their body joined. Tralze's shaft felt back at home when it stroked the taint and plunged within his dilated cunt. Instead, he welcomed that cock sliding against his taint... And the large body pressed against his back, hiding him from the world. Twiggy exhaled: "Hhh... Ma'da might need another audience."