This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must always be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.
Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.
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The orc army ravaged the outskirts of the kingdom, laying waste to every town and village they came across. Even though they took losses of their own, the spears and swords of men, untrained in battle, were not enough to cut them down and send their power-hungry hides back to the mountains from where they had come.
They had to be stopped, one way or another, and that was how Briar came into it. Young and dashing, he was the prime young king, following in the path of his late father, a renowned warrior. Yet Oswin Osborne fell sick some years back, leaving the queen Athela widowed to raise their heir alone. Of course, they had the support of the kingdom and everything the castle had to offer, but it was a change that rocked both Briar and his mother to their core.
He rallied an army, the young prince, and charged off to battle, though they were still rebuilding after the great war, the last war his father had fought in. But the orcs had to be turned back, shown the full might of the kingdom, lest they fall at the feet of the orcs and care not for their fate.
Alas, Athela, his mother and the queen, was left comparatively unprotected in the castle: an expansive castle ringed by fine gardens and a moat, which was a leftover defensive measure from years gone by. No army had reached the castle since before their time, but the great war had weakened them so that the best fighters had gone with Briar.
And that was how the warlord got into the castle, storming the capital with his army. Screams cut through the air as the orcs took what they pleased, ravaging and pillaging, even raping. They didn't know the touch of morals or kindness, a harsher, rougher kind of people who came with an innate need for new territories. To them, land was power -- and, in a sense, it was. Yet they came after it with a more feral, animalistic presence about them, lacking politics and diplomacy.
No one, however, could have said they were ineffective, not as they battered the guards and hurled them into the moat, alive or dead, not caring for the mounds of bodies they left in their wake. Flags were ripped down and women cowered from them, even if no one would be spared the wrath of the orcs and the army that had come to wreak havoc.
"Unff... Arrrrggghhhh!"
Fidguf, the warlord leader, bellowed as he stormed through the castle, swinging a double-bladed axe that was heavier than most men all by itself. With green-grey skin, his great gut pushed out before him, though it was the muscle and heft of the orc that had granted him his title. With a bald head and dark, conniving eyes, no other orc had been able to best him -- not yet, at least. Perhaps when age caught up with him, Fidguf too would fall.
"I see the small human has fallen for it," he growled, stomping with a lewd smirk into the queen's quarters. "Does he not understand what happens to the women left behind? Ah... But your son ran off... He forgot you!"
Athela stood tall as the orc broke into her bedchambers, her golden hair coiled on top of her head in a braided bun. There was no one there but her and she had dressed as if she was receiving foreign dignitaries, standing firm against the monstrous brutes with the last shreds of pride she had left.
Against these monsters, I cannot show weakness, she thought, even though she had sent her staff away, hoping at that they at least could be saved. But I can stand tall now, I can be myself, to my last breath.
Yet the orc, Fidguf, smirked crudely, a fleshy, slimy tongue sliding out against his lips, though it barely retreated again.
"Ah... Queen thinks I'll end her life..." He rumbled, grabbing at his trousers, a leather harness on his left leg, holding further weapons. "But... Orcs take victory...differently!"
He roared, ripping his trousers down, a button popping off, his belt loosened, freeing a massive spire of meat. Athela's eyes widened, her hands quivering, but she could not have anticipated the change in direction. For there he was, not set to kill her, even setting his axe aside as he cracked his knuckles out, a crude smirk on his face, holding his lips steady while he gripped his massive cock.
His length of meat throbbed, already fully hard, as if it had leapt to attention the moment he came to claim his prize. Her heart skipped a beat, pounding too hard in the aftermath, her stomach churning as nausea threatened to rise, her stomach flipping with horror.
No...
Athela stiffened, a dagger clasped within her hand, which had been concealed within her dress. No... No, he would not have her!
They faced off, the queen saying nothing as she held his gaze, the two of them in a silent standoff. If she didn't move, maybe the orc wouldn't be able to do anything?
Alas, it was a false hope as the orc bellowed and covered the distance between them with a lumbering, blundering gait, though Fidguf had still been wily enough to get into the castle, to get her son away and leave the capital vulnerable. He staggered into motion too quickly for her to do anything about it, snatching up her weak wrists in his massive, meaty hands, grubby fingers curling around her frail, delicate limbs.
Well, she was frail in comparison to the orc, already a foot and a half taller than her and far wider, thick with muscle and fat, the power of their people. Fidguf laughed, a sickening rumble that rose from his gut, hurling Athela on to the bed and slamming her down. The bedframe cracked, collapsing under her, and she cried out, even if her scream was lost in the might of the beast Fidguf was.
"No! Don't!"
Those were the only two words she was able to get out, as plaintive as they were, but they didn't change anything as he ripped her dress off, shredding it with rips and tears, only caring to expose her pale, soft body. Athela slammed her fists against him, clawing at him, even trying to dig her fingers into his eyes. Yet the orc didn't seem to have any weak spots she could exploit, bearing down over her, his stinking flesh making her eyes water, the mix of sweat and blood and staler body odours still clouding her senses.
Her diplomacy and political triumphs would not help her one bit against Fidguf, no, not when the orc had her exactly where he wanted her, pinned under him, his much too larger member slapping hungrily against her stomach. Athela squealed, too fearful for humiliation to have any real grasp on her, but all she could do as her pussy, with a short covering of blonde hair, was exposed to his wrath.
"Mmmm..." He rumbled, groping her pussy, curling his hand around her lower body to dig his fingers into her flesh. "Shame you're not a virgin..."
But Fidguf didn't really care about things like that, not as he bore over her, pinning her arms above her head and thrusting roughly. He ground against her pussy, though it took him several thrusts to wedge the fat, rounded head of his cock into her sex, penetrating her folds deeply. It was not an easy position for him, considering the size difference between them, his gut rubbing her torso as he thrust and she screamed, wedging his cock into a space that was never designed to take him.
"Aaaahhhhhh!"
She screamed, coarse and guttural, heaving and panting, his prick driving up inside her. Her pussy was too tight around him, penetrating her too deeply -- she was going to tear through! Yet, miraculously, Athela's body held him without damage -- or without any damage she had to deal with on the surface, however.
There was, blistering through her body, rampant heat and sensation forcing her to pay due attention to every moment, how his shaft rammed into her, his driving, overpowering force grinding deep. There was nothing but the orc, not as her body was forced to respond to him, nothing more than a vessel into which he could dump his load.
Athela's cheeks puffed out, striving to say something, anything, yet her eyes were strained, feeling as if they were bulging out of their sockets. Yet that was a strange thing indeed for her to focus on in that moment, when her body was being violated, both present in the moment and trying, with all her might, to pace herself back and away from it. But it was only her mind trying to protect her as he thrust hard, using his glutes to make her body accept him.
She had to be there, however, heaving and grunting, lips agape -- and then closing her mouth tightly as the orc's chest pressed down over her face. It couldn't be happening, no, not to her, not to the queen...
And yet it was, rolls of fat rubbing against her as he tipped forward even further, his grip tightening around her wrists, holding her fast even though he had no real need to pin her in place like that. The weight of his body was more than enough, Athela trembled under him, her shoulders aching fiercely as a burning-hot poker lanced into her pussy.
The orc thrust and thrust, though it was all pleasure to Fidguf, even if he had to grind into her with a lot more force than he would have done with one of his own kind. Female orcs were designed to take them, after all, whereas a human woman was a much tighter and warmer cock sleeve, a hot pussy to destroy and pillage.
"Unff... No... Please..."