Erotica Anthology #3

Monster F*ck

#14

Monster Fuck

The horrendous fate of three MILFs under the mercies of a herd of zombies, giants, and werewolves, f****d and bred in slavery until their holes are so loose and busted.

“ Arwen ”

A great war of races occurred, and it turns out to be a devastating loss for the light when the forces of evil win the fight. And as a result, the men are killed and the women are held in captive, bound and to be send off to their assigned owners. They are to be used as their captors see fit, even for the extreme of pleasures. They will have no rights, no say in what is about to happen to them, and the women are frightened beyond measure. They dread the time that they will arrive to their assigned destination, though some are still hopeful, wanting to see the end of the light, away from all this chaos.

Arwen is at a loss when she overhears where her group is going to be sent. The orcs; those featuredly deformed and frighteningly scarred creatures. They stink and they live in dark places such as deep caves, pits and narrow tunnels. They will never be able to see the sky or have the taste of freedom again.

It does not take long for their female half-elven group to be delivered to the orcs’ nest. The men are all gone, and the women can not help but to weep at their loss. These monsters do not hesitate in their acts, driven by their instincts, and immediately take their pick of the presented women. Their claws rip the women’s clothes into pieces without care, barring the female half-elves to the shivering chill of their dark caves. Some of the orcs are already hard from smelling these women, their c***s so hard solid it does not take time for these horrid creatures to ram through the folds of these female half-elves’ entrances.

The half-elves scream from the rough taking. The female numbers are greatly small compared to all of these hungry orcs. Some orcs even settle with taking a female half-elf at the same time, multiple numbers of them crowd one crying female.

It does not take long before the entire cave in covered with the scene of orgies.

Arwen tries to run away from being snatched; but just like everyone else, her wrists and ankles are bound together. It does not take much from one orc to grab her roughly by the shoulder though. This one is twice larger than the normal orcs, and the female is scared as wits. He cuts the bonds that connect hers with the other female half-elves with a sharp knife, before hauling her to his shoulder. Her already tattered skirt is ridden up in the process, exposing her round and firm bosom to the intimidating male.

Arwen struggles from his hold throughout the way, watching in horror as the scene transpires in front of her. These are her people, but she can not do anything as she is forced to watch these women being raped, their holes claimed in more ways than one by multiple orcs. Even once the orcs are done with the females, there are still a large number of other male orcs waiting in line behind them, eager to stick their slimy pricks into their warm cores. Their cries of pain continue, filling out through the entire cave, their desperate screams echoing miles away.

The larger orc drops Arwen a little bit further from the crowd, no doubt only wanting her for himself. Each of his large hands grip either side of her dress, and in one yank the whole thing is gone, leaving her expose to him. Her n*****s harden instantly from the cold air, and she can not help fighting off the frost bites that threatens to freeze her on the spot when it creeps from all across her bare skin. He takes one ankle and begins prying apart her legs without much care. Arwen screams for him to leave her alone, to not touch her with his filthy hands. The huge orc ignores her, simply lifting her bound legs up instead and shoves his large fingers into her soft core without as much as a warning.

His fingers are too sharp and rugged. They ripped through her tight canal recklessly, tearing at the soft tissues inside her. Tears roll out from the silver gems of her eyes, but the orc simply does not care, only digging his coarse bony fingers into her deep canals even more.

“No! Stop! Don’t touch me!” she yells, swinging her legs vigorously, trying to kick him off.

The orc groans in return, not liking the way she is talking back to him. The orc suddenly throws her back, causing her to land on a rough surface of rocks. Arwen uses this chance turn to her front and begin to move, thinking that she can crawl her way out of this hell hole. But there is no way that she can escape from the fate that is about to befall her.

Struggling to crawl away on all fours, her ass is arched up, making it bounce ever so temptingly for the male behind her. Arwen does not get to distance herself any further though, because the orc grabs her by the ankle, stopping her in her track. The orc pulls her back towards him, his sharp nails digging into her tender skin, drawing droplets of blood from the action. Arwen loses all sense of gravity when he suddenly yanks her down, before he hammers something hard into her back entrance.

He drives his length into her ass, and it takes everything for Arwen to scream right there and then. It is nothing like she has ever been through before. Her husband, Aragorn, was a gentle lover. He would never have taken her like this; so unprepared, so dried up. This creature is merciless. He only grabs and takes.

His girth, just like the rest of him, is deformed, the piece of limb sticking out in odd angles. One side of his c**k is heavier on the side, causing Arwen to feel more weirded out than she already is. Judging from the uneven surface of his c**k, there is no doubt that area of his is also covered in scars.

The orc does not take much time in starting to indulge himself into her. His claws grab onto her waist, starting to crisscross the smooth skin over there. Arwen flinches from the slight punctures, but nothing more can beat the burning heat in her ass, other than when he starts to move inside her, his odd angled c**k brushing against her inner walls in ways that she can never imagine.

Never in her lifetime has Arwen thought that she will be reduced to this kind of treatment. It is so humiliating and degrading. She was the Queen of the Reunited Kingdom, damn it! The daughter of the mighty Lord of Rivendell. How dare this lowly creature touches her with that perverted touch of his! Even her husband has never done such things to her!

Her husband. Oh, Aragorn. The young widower whimpers at the thought of her late husband. The enemy armies are brute and barbarous. They killed him in battle. She never even got the chance to say goodbye to him. She can still remember the resonating pain from losing him. It is so heart breaking. Yet no grief so painful and bitter can defeat the humiliation of being mounted from the back by a disgusting orc like this creature before her.

He takes her quick and rough, too pumped up by the urge to find his release. And when he does, he spills every bucket of his slimy gooey seeds into her ass, making sure to keep thrusting himself even deeper into her as he goes. He cums so much that the rocks on their knees start to be covered in a pool of his semen. Arwen fights hard to control the bile that is building up in the back of her throat. To be stained like this, she might as well kill herself.

Another orc approaches, this time a normal size one. The first orc is reluctant to share her with the other one, but his c**k is still lodged so deep inside Arwen’s ass, and judging from the rigidness of his hard on, he still has many more uses of her. He relents, and the second orc steps in to her line of sight, his own stiff deformed c**k revealed.

Arwen remains clueless as to what he intends to do with her from that position, staring in horror at the mess of lump of his c**k. Its form is so messed up, she is surprised that he can still function. But he does, and he aligns his c**k to the parted lips of her mouth.

The female half-elf turns her head, craning her neck so hard just to get away from him. But no matter what she does, she is still the weaker one. The orc behind her keeps her still, and it does not take much before the second orc finds the gap in her mouth, shoving his entirely length all the way to the back of her throat without any form of hesitation when he does.

Arwen can smell the pungent stink of his c**k. The strange texture makes her this close from throwing up. But even when she wants to, she can’t, because he is keeping her head in place, his fingers latched onto the roots of her hair so firmly that she cannot even move much.

The second orc begins moving his hips, thrusting his strange c**k into her mouth, his pre-c*m already starting to roll out on her tongue that he even begins to make that sickening slicking sound in her mouth as he moves.

Gagged by the mouth with an orc’s c**k while the other one begins rocking his hips back and forth from her rear end, Arwen feels like a slab of meat being skewered by these two. It is too easy to think of giving up, but really, Arwen cannot. Thinking about dying is like betraying her cause, betraying the many lives that her people has fought for and sacrificed. No, she can not give up. She has to stay strong. She has to survive, and in order to do that, Arwen must comply. She has to do what they want her to do, so that she will not be killed.

She had heard of many stories of the girls that have been condemned into slavery even much earlier than her. They were killed because they have been off used. It did not take long before they began. Perhaps just over a month or so. The girls were so used up that their masters did not even desire them anymore. They have given up on hope, and that caused them to turn desperate. In the end, they died slowly one by one; started from the soul, and then the body.

If Arwen gives up just like them, soon enough she will turn into one of those dead bodies. No, she can not do that. Giving up means she is wasting the lives of her men — the life of her husband, her father and her brothers. No, she can not betray them like this. She will not give up. She will do whatever it takes to survive, even if it means starting to accept her situation. Yes, she will f**k these creatures, even if that is the last thing she wants to do. Because surviving means victory, and dying means defeat. She is not willing to simply give up on their sacrifice. She will do whatever it takes to survive this repeated claiming and rough climate. If she pleases them, they might even be able to help her stay alive.

“Alright then. If you want me so badly, then have me! f**k me if that is the last thing you wanna do. Thrust into me and fill me up with your c*m!” She uses her fingers to part her p***y lips, and soon enough a horde of orcs start flowing in, tongues and fingers testing her out while stiff c***s are taken out, ready to penetrate her.

The other women see this, see just brave Arwen has become in taking in these monsters. Dozens of orcs come rushing in and f*****g her. They fill her up with buckets of c*m, using her so much until her hole becomes so loose. Yet she does not give up. Her spirit is still there. She is still their lady.

Witnessing her fighting spirit, the female half-elves begin picking up their pace with new found spirit, following the footsteps of their lady. If she can be strong for this, they as her people, have to be strong for her. She is right. They can not give up. They will suck and get f****d hard in the ass if that is what they have to do to lose this misery. Let them f**k their holes. At least when they are not fighting anymore, they can lessen the pain.

Don’t get them wrong. This is still rape. But survival is their number one priority. Let these orcs stick their pricks inside them. What is a couple of jabs and jerks compared to death? They can not stop fighting, even if it means fighting through a very different manner. At least they still have hope.

Flow after flow. Days after days. More orcs keep showing up. Just after they are done milking the three orcs that are occupying all of their holes, more orcs just come to take their place. It feels like there is no end to this. It becomes so out of control that the orcs start to fight for positions. Some are not even patient enough that they begin targeting the holes that have already been filled up by another c**k. They are so pent up, frustration building up inside them as their c***s harden from just the scents of these females. When they begin forcing themselves into the women’s already preoccupied holes, they crudely stretch out these women’s tight skin, the c***s ramming into their tightness.

When the other orcs begin to learn this, the others begin to move, stuffing their c***s into the already overfilled hole. They shove their c***s into the women’s mouth, cunt and ass, but moreover the ass, because that is the most accessible hole compared to the others, especially when the women are practically forever subjected to their kneeling positions, crawling on all fours.

The strain that has been put on their bodies is just too much that when the females start to shag out of tiredness, the orcs will just use them as they please, with the women slumping down in the middle. But even after going all out with double and triple penetrations, many orcs are still left uncared for. Once they have their share of the women’s tight warmness, they grow hard again. Too fast. The women can’t keep up, even when they know that by this point, the women have stopped fighting and have become more willing.

The other orcs who are out of reach begin touching themselves as they witness these women being f****d and handled roughly. And when they c*m, these orcs make sure that they shoot their c*m right on top of the women’s naked and used bodies.

Every part of their bodies are sore. Blood, c*m and sweat are dripping from every inch of these female half-elves. Only a handful of them were virgins when they were taken, but even by now these used-to-be virgins have become so grown and used to having c***s filling their naughty holes non-stop, they have somehow become addicted to being used as c*m buckets. The orcs are giving women so much attention that their holes are never dry, never free from being filled up with the putrid stench of their c*m.

The half-elves were repelled by the smell at first, but are now used to it, eventually even beginning to crave the smell, just like how almost all of them have become addicted to being raped.

It is deranged, what they are doing, but what can they do? They are just women after all. They are physically weaker from these male orcs — they are soldiers, fighters, the murderers of their husbands, brothers and fathers. If they do not give in, how else are they going to survive?

They look at their leader, Lady Arwen, who has two c***s stuffed in her mouth, trying to swallow their d***s as deep as she can while another two is f*****g her at the cunt. At the same time, a third orc is climbing into the mass at her ass, pushing his way in through the stubborn tightness of her asshole. Her back entrance is stretched, but it is still not loose enough that he can slip in easily. He still has to compete with the other orcs who are f*****g her in the ass. They are too persistent, not wanting to give up on their place. After some great effort and some breaking in, the third orc manages to fully stuff himself inside her. He has to break up her tight muscle rings, drawing up blood in the end, but the woman does not seem to mind at all, too lost in the pleasure.

Yes, this is how they live now.

. . . . .

“ Galadriel ”

Far in the east, the trolls are enjoying themselves for being buried inside the Lady of Lothlórien’s and her subjects’ soft mount.

Her crown has been long abandoned. They tore her husband, Celeborn, in half right in front of her. It destroyed her. And soon after, Galadriel is forced into servitude, becoming the trolls’ s*x slave.

She is passed down from one troll to the other, each seems to be bigger than the last,

Galadriel is still being haunted from the sight of her murdered husband, yet these trolls do not see to be very patient in using her holes, f*****g her from all different directions.

Compared to normal c***s, theirs are huge. They destroy everywhere they go. If they stick their c***s inside her mouth, they will kill her instantly. It does not matter even if she is immortal. Such a strain will kill her without much fight. They can crush her jaws or choke her to death. At times, she does not think that she minds getting killed. But other times, she burns with the spirit of her people that she dares not to give in.

No, she can not give up on her life. She still has much to do.

The women have been robbed from their rights to wear clothes. Not that they will have much use of clothes at this point, not with the way they are being used as pleasure holes left and right.

The smallest c**k a troll has is as big as a warrior’s arm.

They are being passed around starting from the lower tiers and up to the higher tiers. The more they go, the bigger the c***s are. They are just as eager, but at least more careful in their strength. One wrong jab, and the woman will be dead.

Galadriel volunteered herself to be taken — she too will be the first one to take the pleasure of being f****d by the higher tier.

The troll’s body is twice the size of a normal troll, and his c**k undoubtedly equally large. Just looking at his hardened head makes Galadriel want to run away. He is so huge, the girth might as well he as big as a human’s head.

“No . . . Please . . . don’t do this! Oh please! Don’t put it in me . . . If you do, I’m gonna be dead!” He watches emotionlessly as the ex-guardian comes to tears for the first time, after wallowing in her husband’s death for so long.

“No! Don’t kill me! He’s gonna kill me!” she screams and thrashes in mannerism that is unlike the elegant creature that she is. But how can her people blame her? They are not blind. Look at the size of that thing. All of her organs will be crushed together before he can even start moving inside her.

Or at least, that is what the elves think.

The giant troll begins by shoving the head of his c**k into her asshole, which has already been widened up so much by his subordinates, she can even stick her own arm all the way inside. But he is different from the others, much larger in size compared to the usual. His body alone is over double the size of a normal troll, and his c**k is undoubtedly deathly. He starts squeezing his length into her ass, and Galadriel can not help but wail in pain. He is forcing himself into a hole that is never meant for his size, and the gigantic monster is already starting to get his almost none-existing patience thinning out as it is.

He uses his bulky hands to grab and angle her body, hoping to help with the pushing. His head is planted into her warm back entrance, but the muscles are still too tight, even after having been loosened up by so many trolls before him. Tears start to steam down the sides of her delicate face, her features still beautiful and elegant even after having been strained and drenched by trolls’ c*m so countless times. She has to stay strong, she knows this, but it is hard to do so when you have a c**k the size of a real head jamming at her already ruined rosebud.

After some persistent pushing, the giant troll finally manages to slip his head in, though the action is not done without breaking something inside her. She can feel her nether region tearing apart, blood starting to flow from her thighs and ankles. The troll lifts her body so high up, she can barely tell which way is up or down anymore. He just keeps moving her around, rotating her body so that he can get a good angle at her back passage, a determined goal in his mind.

More blood spill from her ass, and Galadriel loses all feelings to her legs. Is she just imaging this entire thing, or did he perhaps break something fatal? Her body is too sore to tell. But no matter what, she does not think she can survive much longer at this rate. Galadriel closes her eyes, trying to distract herself from the pain as the giant troll begins to thrust in deeper, earning new depth at each roll.

Ever since she has become captive, her once twinkling blue eyes has turned dull, the color drained just as her will to live is gradually leaving her. Her once golden curly hair has become so damp from the sweat and s*x, she fears that she has lost yet another thing that she treasures and is proud of. Her pale skin has ashened, drained from all the non-stop f*****g she has received from all receiving ends.

Even though the trolls can not stick their d***s in her mouth, she is still forced to entertain them by sucking and licking them. She remembers the days she spent craning her neck, just to help them c*m onto her body. Their c*m is stilling to every inch of her body, even to places she never thought existed. The elves are very reserved kind. They only have s*x when they need children, and even then they have never done anything so lewd. s*x is done out of love, not lust. The s*x she had with her husband was not like this at all. This is far from being close. More tears roll from her eyes as her thoughts wander to her dead husband.

There are even times when two regular sized trolls would penetrate her from both ends at the same time. She is too small for the trolls to f**k her more than one at a time in the ass, so they compensate by having one of them f**k her from her p***y. More blood spills when he rips through her delicate cunt. But after that, the pleasure began. They take turns drawing in and out of her, making her c*m every time they thrust all the way in, while the other was almost out. She had lost count of how many times she loses herself in the penetrations, too overwhelmed by their giant c***s. They are ruining her insides, she knows, but she can not help but be turned on by the delicious friction.

Heavens, her husband will never forgive him if he knows what she is feeling, watching her being so wanton like this. And when the two trolls finally c*m, they fill her up good, she can still squirt some of them out from in between her legs, most probably still stuck inside her.

Back to the present, the giant troll is still f*****g her. But surprisingly, he has managed to stretch her walls so wide, she is able to somehow fit his entire girth inside her. He is huge, and she can not fit his entire length, but at least he managed to push the third of his c**k in. Third of his c**k. She is not imagining this. And she is still alive! What a miracle!

Her struggle does not end there however, and the giant troll still wishes for his release. He begins moving inside her, thrusting in and out with vigorous motions. Galadriel screams from the impact, most of all fearing for her dear life. Oh heavens! She does not think she can bare this any longer. She is going to . . . she is going to—

The smaller trolls rush in when she shots out her c*m right into their faces, hungry for a taste of her. They stick their tongues out, all fighting for the chance to stick it inside her soaked p***y.

While the trolls are competing to give her oral, the giant troll is still thrusting hard into her ass, stretching her back passage more and more as he rolls her in and out. Her head spins from so much movement, the motions almost nauseating. Not that he cares. All these monsters can think about is earning their release.

When he comes, he drives himself so deep inside her that he might as well crack a new dent inside her body. Galadriel screams as waves of climax crash into her.

By now, the smaller trolls are tongue-fighting to get to her cunt, which ends up with both dominant forces lodged inside her. The act only pushes her further. She screams until her throat is sore and dry and she cannot scream anymore, only let out a small whimper from all the soreness and pain that she is experiencing. They latch into her p***y, licking and sucking at her birth canal so thoroughly that there is no way they can miss a single ounce of her sweet droplets.

Galadriel shags against the fat stomach of the giant troll, practically sitting on his c**k. He is all spent, she can tell, but that does not mean that he is willing to let her go. Well, at least not yet, from the looks of it. While the lower tiers are busy drinking her wet juices, more of the higher tiers step in, curious from what all of the commotion is about. They seem to recognize her, and decide to take her for themselves, wanting to give the noble holes — cunt and asshole — a test run.

This is not the same as when two normal trolls f****d her at the same time. They are going to really tear her in this time!

“No! Don’t!” She wants to scream and get away from these two giant trolls, but her strength has long ago abandoned her, and she has spent all her energy in screaming until no sound comes out. She is doomed, done for! There is no avoiding it this time.

The lower tiers protest when she is snatched from their hold, but it is not like they are challenge these two huge trolls. They are way larger and stronger than them, and the first giant troll simply stands there as he watches her being taken.

No! She does not want this! They are going to kill her! Galadriel wants to fight, to struggle free from their hold. But she is like a twig compared to their mass and strength. She will not last long. She looks ahead silently with sad eyes, a final goodbye to her people who are still watching.

They take her without mercy, tearing through her ass and cunt. Their massive c***s are invasive as they can be. They dip their c***s into her, and they are not going out. They thrust into her mercilessly, not caring even if she is stretched out beyond measure. If they find a blockage, they are just going to push all the way in until it is impossible for them to push anymore, and after that her inside will be so sore, even clenching back down to relax her muscles will hurt. She can not do anything; everything she does is wrong.

When they finally c*m, it might as well feel like hours later. The giant trolls make sure to shoot up their semen as much as they can, filling her up until her stomach turns into being as fat as theirs. They drop her to the ground like a piece of trash when they are done with her, leaving Galadriel to c*m onto her tights, drowning in a pool of their contributions. Her body is all bent up, her stomach swelling from having so much liquid pumped into her, blood and sweat and dirt covering every inch of her once tender skin.

At this point, she is so used up that she can barely move. But that does not mean that the other giant trolls will not be compelled to give her a try. After all, there are still dozens of them left unsatisfied.

She and her kind have been unlucky, being assigned to such brutal and gigantic creatures. At least some still bod better than her. She can begin to hear the outcries of the female elves, frightened when the larger trolls begin picking them up one by one, now craving the thirst of having a taste of their delicate bodies. They will tear them up and leave them bare and worn out, just like a used rag. More tears roll down from Galadriel’s tired eyes, the sounds of misery growing further and further away as exhaustion eventually claims her.

. . . . .

“ Éowyn ”

The women of Rohan have been given to the wargs, a race of evil wolves who take residence in the Misty Mountains. They are much larger than normal wolves, each of them spanning at the size of a horse. Their c***s are massive, almost twice as big as any normal human male c**k.

Amongst these women, Éowyn has also become one of these wolves’ s*x slave. A wolf usually claims their taking once a human female is picked and dragged off, but since there are so little amount of them, some of the wolves have to share with the others. Some are more than willing, while some are not. Éowyn is unlucky enough to get a warg who is more than happy to share her with anyone who is interested.

His c**k is huge, and his hips move like a machine, nonstop and untired. He has made his human cummed for more than half a dozen times, yet he is still so restless, dark eyes gleaming with something dangerous as he stares down at her bare form, his tongue occasionally rolling out to taste her breasts, his jaws almost nipping her skin every time he clamps down his sharp fangs around the roundness of her ample breasts. He keeps growling and grunting at her even as he f***s her buttocks.

They need to please their new masters to stay alive, or else they will get killed. These human women realize that. The human women have witnessed the proof of these monsters’ brute force first hand, when a human girl refuses to be condemned and a warg is angry enough to tear her in half with a single swipe of razor sharp claws. They have no room for disobedience, as it seems. They are afraid, they are weak and left alone in the cold, and they do not know how much longer they can take this kind of treatment.

But at least when they get f****d, they do not have to worry about getting cold. The wargs’ fur, even though still feel rough around the edges, is able to provide some form of warmth through the proximity. When once the wargs start to claim their asses, more warmth spreads through their body, allowing these women to survive throughout the chilling nights. These wargs can go on for a long time. Éowyn notices this, and she uses that chance to wrap her legs around the warg’s spine, encouraging him to stay in place, and in return he continues to f**k her vigorously.

The other women notice this behavior, and they slowly learn to follow her actions. This act saves their lives, decreasing the number of human women who get killed because of the dropping temperature. They are staying in the high mountains, where snow covers most of the area. They are forced to stay inside the nest of the wargs, else they want to risk their live and be frozen to death outside. Still, it does not mean that it is easy to stay warm at nights, where the temperature drops extremely low.

Wolves are loyal in nature, but wargs do not have as many attachments to their f**k toys. Most will just allow their women to be frozen to death, while some just happen to coincidentally decide to use their holes whenever they please. If the women are lucky enough, the wargs will decide to f**k them during the night, providing some form of warmth for their weak bodies.

It is when times get tougher that it becomes difficult. Sometimes there are more than two wargs interested in f*****g her, and Éowyn has to bear it when one warg takes her by the p***y, while the other two are fighting to stuff their d***s inside her ass. She says fighting, because even amongst their group, the wargs still fight. Sometimes they only growl and bite one another. Sometimes the fight gets so brutal that they are fighting even as their d***s are stuck inside her. As a result, Éowyn is dragged all the way around the cave while they fight. Some days it becomes so bad that one of the wargs even get killed, resulting in the death of one of the wargs. The other wargs do not seem to care for their loss of comrade though, and just continue on as if nothing happened. What is more difficult is trying to pry out the dead warg’s d**k from her ass.

Thanks to the brutal way of their claiming, her ass has been parted so wide, they stuck into permanently drilled apart. Her asshole used to be small, just a pucker, but now it is gaping so wide that one might even be able to stick a full-grown adult arm inside without much of a struggle. It terrifies her how many things have changed; how she has changed. They have opened her up so wide that she barely feels pain anymore.

There are other times when two wargs also claim her p***y, while another two at her back. This is when things get even more critically dangerous for her, because the wargs like to fight for their rights. Even when Éowyn resigns to her fate, the wargs don’t always get along. Sometimes they allow certain wargs to take her also, sometimes they get very territorial. Éowyn can’t really tell which one is which, because they all look very similar. Except for the first warg who took ownership of her; he has a large scar across his left eye, and she remembers that.

With two large d***s at the front and two equally large d***s at the back, Éowyn is struggling hard not to die. They are tearing her open when they start forcing their way in, allowing blood to start dripping from in between her thighs. The scent of blood; this only seems to excite them more.

A female human body is incredibly small, and they wargs still have to take turns plunging themselves into her. That does not mean that they have to retrieve their c***s entirely, pausing just until the tips are barely hanging at her entrances. If two wargs that are each from the front and back are burying themselves inside her, the other two will wait at the entrances. Then when it is time to pull out, the other two plunge hard, slamming their fat d***s into her very depths. Éowyn is never left empty, and they make sure of that.

Her legs are parted wide daily that it is the only position she knows now. Even when she is left to rest alone, she can not fold her legs in any other ways. It seems like she has forgotten how to walk on two feet also; because whenever she has to move, she simply crawls on all fours, just like these beasts. Maybe that’s why they like to attack her so much. Whenever she gets her break time and starts to crawl on all fours, more wargs start to flood in, f*****g her with new found excitement over and over again.

She does not wish to provoke them, but it is not like she can do much. It is thanks to these monsters that her legs become permanently crammed, so used to having to raise her tights and part her legs to allow them to f**k her holes.

Sometimes it is even her who provoke them, kneels on all fours just like these beasts, waggling her ass so high up in the air like a red flag to a raging bull. It does not take long before her naughty ass is claimed. One, two, three, she can count, and the wargs are rushing over, sticking their d***s in and drilling their lengths into her loose holes.

There are even times when so many wargs gather around her, more than a dozen of them, but with not enough holes to stick their c***s in. That is when they start brushing their c***s against her body, pumping their rigid hot rots, before eventually cumming on top of her, showering her with their thick sticky c*m. Éowyn bathes in their semen, and the wanton act only encourages the wargs even more. The sight of her drowning in their c*m is driving them crazy, they just have to give her holes around round of filling.

There are days when she questions her sanity. Why is she behaving this way? Why is she allowing these beasts to f**k her raw? Sometimes she even becomes so full with their c*m, her stomach starts to bulge from having to contain so much liquid inside her.

Her husband and child have been killed. Faramir has been unfortunate enough to be stationed in a group of scouting soldier who got discovered and killed by the enemies. Their son Elboron was too young to join the fight, but he was ripped from the clutches of her hands and had his skull crushed instantly when she refused to be separated from her child. The mental scar of having to witness the death of her son first hand was so traumatizing, it caused her to withdraw for so long. Life is dull, and she can still recall the horrid memories so well. These wargs are murderers. How can she willingly allow the murderers of her husband and son to f**k her willingly? To allow them to indulge her holes?

But if she doesn’t f**k them, they’ll kill her, just like the others, a small voice in her head tells her. And if she dies, all will be for nothing. It will be an act of disrespect, to allow the men’s death be in vain. Only the women are alive now, and they can not allow their sacrifices to be wasted. She has to survive. They have to survive.

But of course it still comes as a surprise to her when she eventually finds herself throwing up during the usually blow job she gives to one of the wargs. He does not seem to mind the stink that flow out from her throat, but that is not the unusual part. What is strange is the fact that she is usually able to hold it down. Why does she start to throw up now? Once can be brushed off, but the act becomes a repeat, and soon enough she finally realizes what is happening. She might fool herself to ignore reality, but it is so far before she has to face the truth. She is pregnant, and by one of the wargs as well.

Hateful! Éowyn wants nothing more to beat the seed of evil from her stomach. It is growing inside of her, taking in the nutrients and energy from her body. She is already as weak as she is; she can’t have another child. What will become of the child’s fate if she brings her to this world? She might hate the one who sire her child, but she hates it more to have to witness what will become of her child. If the child is a girl, they will surely make use of her as well, just like how these beasts use her. They will also f**k her for her entire life, until she also becomes pregnant like her. No, she can’t let that happen.

Éowyn is not the only one who notices the change in her body. Even though her stomach is still flat so far, the wargs have keen sense of smell, and they start to notice that she is not the only one that is pregnant. Many girls are also carrying their seeds. The wargs do not seem to be against this, and none of the pregnant girls are killed. They still f**k them raw and leave them to clean after themselves, but the wargs are more generous when it comes down to sharing their hunt with them. It seems like they are planning to use the children also, after all.

The women have no idea what to make of this. Do they resign to their fate; to their children’s fate? Will they be willing to condemn their little girls to lifetimes of slavery when the time comes? Only time will tell.

It’s cold and dark up in the mountains, and even under the shelter of the cave and the warmth from the wargs’ fur, they are not enough to protect these humans from the dread that is eating them alive. Still, these women try to be positive, accepting the seeds of these beasts else they dare to face the wrath of these wargs. It will not be pretty, the things that these vicious beasts can do to mere human females like them. Rather than let them reap their flesh to their death, these women will let them reap them in half with their c***s buried so deep inside their folds. At least they get warmth and pleasure out of this.

Before they know it, months pass. They can tell because their stomachs are getting bigger. They have grown so big, a bunch of them must have gotten double or triple pregnancies from different sires. The wargs can breed like crazy, and combined with the human females’ faster breeding rate, it is only a matter of time before they start giving birth.

Over time, Éowyn has learned to love the taste of their c*m. She loves it so much, she even starts making it one of her primary food source. It seems like her babies like them too, because whenever she finishes drinking, she will start to kick lively inside her stomach.

Things get cramped when the wargs start mounting her, especially when some are eager for multiple penetrations. At this point, both of her holes are so wide and loose that the wargs no longer need to fight in order to earn a spot inside her canals. They will just stick their c***s in, and the lengths slide into her nicely. Sometimes three wargs will even go at her at the same time, climbing on top of one another in the progress. This uncomfortable positions do not seem to discourage them any less however, and continue on f*****g her until her holes become so nice and loose.

Her asshole is stretched to the point that even a fourth warg can fit in. The same goes for her p***y. These vicious beasts are just as brutal at killing as they are at f*****g. They just can not simply get enough of filling her up with their c*m. They have f****d her so many times, with wargs coming in numerous turns that Éowyn has been reduced to becoming their personal c*m bucket.

Her holes are never shy from being filled up with their semen. She is so full that moving can even be difficult at times, to the point that her breathing becomes hard. But even when she is struggling in engulf air, her holes just can not get enough of filling. The wargs are more than eager to pump themselves up inside her, causing cream pies of their c*m to flow out from both ends of her holes nicely.

Her p***y are so wide and loose, a warg can even stick his head inside her and take a peek at her growing babies. The same can be said with her asshole. Her canals are so sloppy and baggy that she does not even have to do much when she has to relieve herself. They will just flood out of her without much effort, sometimes even spilling out at the same time when she cums.

But how can she really fight it off? With such large d***s coming in and filling her up all day and night, not even allowing her that much time to be alone. She can swear, her pregnancy is actually turning them on. She knows because more and more wargs are coming at her to use her for pleasure, utilizing every part of her, even going as far as thrusting their c***s under her armpits, t**s and hair to get off. But of course after that it will be even harder to clean herself off, especially when they left her alone after she is so exhausted and drenched. These wargs are not shy to make a wrecking mess on her, including bathing her in their large pools of c*m, as well as filling her up with so much of their c*m, her womb is practically bloated with them.

It is weeks before Éowyn is due. Her stomach has become so large, little can be done for her to move. Even sitting down is hard, because she is now carrying an extra weight everywhere. The wargs who demand s*x will just knock her back down on the ground and began humping, not caring if she is hurt. Though they don’t usually do anything to harm her, except to break loose of her p***y and asshole.

She remembers the first warg who claimed her. He has that scar under his left eye. He is carrying something in his jaw. But whatever it is, Éowyn does not see much of it, because whenever he starts to growl and look at her menacingly with his cold, dark eyes, the human women is always left shivering, scared to the bones.

Sometimes she does not know if she is going to survive the encounter or not, because he always looks like he is ready to strike her out cold. And this time, he does not seem to want s*x — well, at least not yet. He pushes the bottle towards her, gesturing for her to drink it. Her lips quiver in fear, afraid of what it might to do her and her children. Is it poison? Is he going to kill her with it? But that does not make sense. If he wants her dead, he just needs to reap her throat open, no need for the poison. But if it is her children’s lives that he is after, that this might be a different story.

Shaking her head frantically, she quickly wraps her arms around her stomach protectively. They might take her and use her as they please, but he is not going to take the lives of her children. Yes, they might have been the ones who caused her multiple pregnancies, but that does not mean that they are theirs to take. These children are hers, and she is going to do anything to protect their lives.

The warg must be displeased because of her refusal, and starts growling at her, his eyes calculating, deciding whether to kill the insolent human or not. Éowyn begins crawling away, wanting to protect the child. If he wants them dead, maybe the others will protect her. She screams out loud, not calling any names in particular — she does not know their names, and doubt if they have any individual names at all. She had decided to call him Scar, in contribute to his appearance.

Scar nudges the bottle towards her once more, this time using both of his front paws to hold her down. Éowyn is still refusing, so instead he opens the bottle himself and starts force feeding her. Éowyn struggles, fighting him off with all her might. But her attempts are pathetic, her body too weak after months of being used as a c*m bucket by these creatures. Some of the liquid manage to spill around her as a result, but Scar just continues to force her, going as far as stabbing his c**k into her cunt, going all the way until he is hits her womb repeatedly, using odd angles to make it hurt. The pain forces her to part her mouth for a scream, and he uses that chance to spill the entire content of the bottle right into her mouth.

He quickly forces her to swallow, threatening her in silence with those frightening pupiless eyes of his if she refuses. Scared and too caught up at the moment, she swallows, but regrets her action immediately.

Time pass, and Éowyn waits for the inevitable. But surprisingly, the poison takes no effect. Could it be a failure after all? She can even still feel her children alive and kicking inside her, so there is no way that they are dead or harmed in any way, right?

Éowyn ends up giving birth to five beautiful daughters. They mostly share her humanoid features, though some end up having ears and tails of a warg. Few of them share her golden and naturally curly hair and pale eyes, though some also inherit their sires’ dark hair and eyes.

The girls grow up fast. They often watch as the wargs penetrate their mother multiple times right in front of them. It is not long before the girls are mature enough to get their own fill of c***s, including their own sires — though Éowyn does not really know which of them are, but just sure that they are of the same group that always crow her holes. It is wrong and Éowyn wishes that she can protect her children from the wargs, but their survival depends on this. And so she is forced to be held down and witness her young daughters’ first deflowering, at the same time as the other wargs are also f*****g her, filling her holes right up until she can fit five of them from each receiving ends.

Blood starts to drip from her daughters’ inner thighs as they experience their first penetrations. Screams begin to fill up the caves again for the first time in the long time, unable to control the pain they are experiencing. And compared to the adult women, the wargs c***s are monstrous sizes for their tiny bodies. They look like they are six, but really they are only a few years old. It is perhaps thanks to the wargs’ genes that they grow up so fast.

The wargs enjoy the tightness of her daughters’ holes, and it does not take long before they are claimed in various ways; their tiny tight cunts start forming tunnels after taking imprints shape of their sires’ c***s, while their tight pucker ass are so widened apart in order to occupy the newly formed holes at their back entrances. The girls learn fast to please their masters, and that includes sticking out their tongues to lick the droplets of c*m that is handed their way. Their mother has prepared them their entire lives for this moment, and they can not afford to fail on her now. They might cry and wail from the unbearable pain, especially when losing their purity so soon in such early age. But the girls aim to please. They do not want to disappoint their mother, so they also do what they need to do to survive.

The other women have started to give birth soon after Éowyn went to labor, and in the span of such a short time, their cave is being filled by so many children at the same time, all female and sharing most of their human mothers’ features.

The girls grow up fast, learning the ways of their mother down to the dot. They learn to please the wargs, and understand what they need to do to stay alive. They allow the wargs to use them, f**k them until the wargs form even wider holes in their insides. They f**k the young girls until their holes become so big that they star to resemble their mothers every much, down to the gaping tunnels of their f**k holes.

By this time, Éowyn is already pregnant with another round of children again. Her canals are so loose that birthing birth to her children do not give her pain at all, as they babies will just simply roll out from her stomach flawlessly, as there no nothing to prevent them from their path once her water breaks.

The women breed easily. The process become so fast that in five years, their numbers have doubled up to the point that Éowyn’s first daughters are already pregnant with their own children. She can not believe it; Éowyn is becoming a grandmother soon. Her perception of time must be whacked, or the half-breeds are just maturing too quickly, thanks to their mixed genes.

By sometime next season, her granddaughters will be born.

. . . . .

“ Arwen ”

News of Galadriel’s location spreads across the lands, including her scheduled transfer to the orcs. This comes as a surprise to Arwen, though hopeful when learning the news that the guardian elf is still alive and well — though she only assumes about the last part.

In exchange for receiving Galadriel to their side, the orcs are giving Arwen away to the trolls. She wonders what had inspired them to do the exchange. Perhaps they have become bored of her? But how can the trolls the satisfied with a half-elf like Arwen, when they are already bored with someone like Galadriel so fast?

When the Lady of Light arrives, her state of condition comes as a shock to all of the female half-elves. Not just because her light has long gone, but more so on the state of her ruined holes. The folds of her p***y has been pulled apart so wide out that wild animals can sneak inside there and she will not even notice. Her back entrance is worse, because there is a very evident gaping hole staring back at them, so wide apart that her ass cheeks are permanently pushed aside just to make room of it.

Poor Galadriel. The women want to weep for her condition, but they themselves are not far from better care than the elf guardian herself.

Arwen is the one who takes the first initiate to help clean her up, grabbing a cloth to rub the trolls’ c*m off of the other lady’s body. The orcs do not stop her from doing so, and Arwen sighs a little bit in relief. Those troll monsters have not been kind to her, that is the dreading fact; and soon enough, this will also be the half-elf’s fate.

The dark haired woman starts off with Galadriel’s chest, allowing the cloth to permeate the layers of c*m from the elf’s pale and tender body. Galadriel moans in her sleep, able to sense the stranger’s touch upon her skin. Arwen proceeds in cleaning her off, scrubbing off many layers of trolls’ equally repelling c*m stink from the guardian’s body.

It takes many times of rubbing before she can finally clean off one area. Once Arwen is done with Galadriel’s breasts, her heavy breasts are puckering hard, red and tender from the continuous rubbing. The half-elf woman barely notices the difference it them, unlike the orcs who are starting to stop and watch, gathering around them to watch the show. Their c***s are already starting to harden from the sight of Galadriel’s shagging heavy breasts, the hardening nubs of her pink n*****s so mouth-watering that it might as well be literally seconds left before the orcs start to attack them.

Arwen proceeds to rubbing Galadriel’s arms and stomach, while another woman kneels beside her to rinse off the elf’s hair. c*m sticks so heavily on each strands of her golden hair that it actually takes time to drag the half-dried c*m off her.

When it comes down to the lower half area, Galadriel is so loose that her p***y lips have curled out around the edges, the skin pulled and stretched so violently that they drape around the outside of her core, tugging in between her legs. Arwen actually has to stick around longer, because the dried c*m is the hardest to get off when the skin of Galadriel’s stretched labia is hindering the process.

Before they get to turn the elf over to clean off the rest of her however, the orcs have already become so impatient that they begin pondering at the elf. The female half-elves get pushed to the side, having most of the orcs too curious about their new toy to care. Ten d***s are already stuffed inside Galadriel’s cunt, and they are still counting. The women do not get to see much of the rest when other orcs begin forming around them, already prying their legs open.

Some twenty other orcs are already starting to thrust into Galadriel’s stretched out asshole. She is so lose than none of them have to do much to slide their lengths in, and before long the orgies have gathered around her unconscious body.

Galadriel eventually wakes up to find tons of d***s already stuffed inside. She moans and groans from the pain, the sore muscles and dry throat. Some orcs offer their stinky deformed c***s at her face, already starting jerking off without waiting for her to react. The female is only half-awake, still trying to orient her mind, attempting to gasp on the new situation. The foreskin of her labia is slapping around them as the orcs f**k her until buckets of c*m spilling inside her womb. This one thing feels familiar, and Galadriel soon snaps out of it real fast, only to find herself no longer exposed in the vast fields of the trolls’ area, but already moved up to the orcs’ dark caves.

When the orcs are spent, dozens more rush in to replace them quickly. She just woke up, but already Galadriel can not keep up with all of this f*****g. The orcs’ faces are frighteningly hideous, but at least their c***s are not as huge as the trolls.

Arwen has been pregnant by the time she is sent off to the trolls. And judging from the size of her stomach in such an early stage, she is carrying more than just one child. But how can she not, with these orcs f*****g her raw at every chance they get, filling up all three of her holes as they please.

Once she arrives, the trolls are more than eager to use her right away. The first time a troll’s c**k is presented to her, her eyes wide from the mere size of it. This is one of the c***s that have destroyed the great Galadriel’s ass; this is the same tool that is going to destroy her.

And of course, her very first instinct is to run.

She still wants to live, and there is nothing that can guarantee that she is going to be alright after taking that monstrous size. The thing is the size of an adult male’s arm, maybe even close to an average sized thigh. She will not be able to take such a large thing inside her. He is going to crush her organs to death just to make room of that thing.

But of course, her attempts have to come to a stop when she suddenly trips, her panicked state fails to alert her of the uneven ground. She lands on her front, but at least Arwen manages to catch herself to lessen the impact of the fall. And thankfully her stomach seems to be just fine, not affected by the fall at all.

The troll uses this chance to grab her ankle, hauling her back towards him. The rags that she had used during her journey is ripped off so effortlessly, exposing her taut breasts and slightly bumped stomach. But those are not the things this large creature is looking forward for. No, his eyes are already set on her ass, which bounce and quiver in fear, scared of the inevitable.

Arwen lets out a yelp when he presses the head of his c**k against her ass, trying to find her f**k hole with his narrow eyes of his. It takes him a few random thrusts, which always ends with his promising length sliding in between her ass cheeks, before he finally ventures lower and finds his destination.

The dark haired half-elf is already loose enough thanks to the orcs constantly f*****g her, but nothing can prepare her for the size he is offering. Arwen lets out a slight whimper of fear when he starts pressing in, his bulging head first, before the rest of his thick length comes in. It feels as if he has been sliding forever, pulling apart the walls inside of her that has not been used for a while during her journey. The more he draws himself in, the broader is the width of his c**k appears to be. Dread clings into her dearly as Arwen is forced to take chunk after chunk of his fat c**k, before he finally fits the limit of her back passage. When she dares to look down, she discovers that not even a third of his c**k is inside her. His size truly is monstrous. The lower tier is already this big. How can she survive for the much larger ones?

Before Arwen can ponder much on her concerns, the troll starts pounding inside her, hammering his massive d**k into her. Her whole body shake as he lifts her up, bouncing her up and down into his length without as much as pause. His grip on her is strong, inside and out, and Arwen can start feeling her body building up, her self-defense mechanism acting out on its own to protect its owner from the promisingly harsh f*****g.

She has to be strong for her children. Arwen can only hope that this coupling will not endanger her daughters. Their size difference is already extreme enough, and her hope is really pushing it. But if she begs the trolls, maybe they will spare them. She has heard of the wargs — they had decided to use the conceived children between the masters and their captives as s*x slaves. With this method, their lives are spared, even though the girls have to be condemned to a lifetime servitude all their life. But at least living is better than death, Arwen tells herself.

When offered the promise of more future slaves, the trolls agree of course, deciding to not f**k her in her cunt and to not kill her babies. But since she is a slave, they will still want to use her, hence why they are always f*****g her in the ass, widening, drilling, and opening up her asshole so big, they start forming a large tunnel at her back passage.

The trolls break her in, making sure that she gets to rest from getting f****d in the ass. They make sure of her mouth, make use of her hands, t**s and armpits. They make use of her tights, and she knows that the temptation to just drive their gigantic c***s into her is so deliciously promising, the trolls can barely control themselves. But if her spawns are just as promising as her, then they will control themselves just a little bit, and drive their erection into her ass instead.

They use her ass mercilessly, f*****g her so rough until the inner walls of her back passage roll out when they pull their huge c***s away. Her flesh can still roll right back inside once it settles down, but by the rate that they are using her, it is only a matter of time before her insides turn inward for real, and soon enough they might be f*****g her ass from the outside. The trolls do not seem to care of how much damage they cause to her ass however, simply prioritizing their pleasure and release over one damaged goods.

Yes, that is what she is now. A damaged good. She is a thing, not a person. She is no longer the proud and noble royalty that she once was, but a mere slave girl of the trolls. She is their plaything, their f**k hole that they can use as they please. She is their c*m bucket, and soon her daughters will also share the same fate as her.

But Arwen is doing this for a good reasons. Besides, what her daughters do not know will not hurt them. She will just have to make sure that they will not know any life outside being a s*x slave. That way, they will not have to be sadden for what they miss in life.

Arwen is almost never left once she finally gets to the higher tier. Their c***s are twice the size of the first one she has encountered, yet they f**k her just as hard as they do — if not more. Her breasts jiggle at every pound, her insides turned and her walls clenched. Yet she is already so loose that she can not even tighten her inner muscles anymore, only able to be forced to watch as they make her ass turn inside out, her inner walls pulled all the way out every time they are one ramming into her passage. And when another c**k wants to enter after that mess, he will have to wrap her worn out walls around his c**k, before pushing all the way in.

The cries of her newborns are the highlight of her life. It brings back a little bit of light into her miserable life. But her new source of light is also her dark path, because soon enough, her girls will be expected to serve their cruel masters.

Once Arwen gives birth, her p***y is like a newly found buffet that they have never ventured before. c***s after c***s keep coming in, f*****g her so raw until her labia starts to shag out like Galadriel’s. But even as bad as her days become, she knows that she will always have her girls.

The trolls are competing with her daughters to get a chunk of her milk. They are curious of this new attribute on their toy, and they can not help but experiment on her breasts. Sometimes Arwen even gets f**k while she is still feeding her babies; the trolls unable to contain themselves from the sweet used stench of her holes.

If the other female elves get pregnant, she is sure that they will be used as much as well. But elves have lower pregnancy rates, and it will be some time before their stomachs will start to bulge. But seeing the large amount and powerful potency of their c*m, Arwen is surprise if the elves are not starting to get pregnant already.

After years of being used by humongous c***s, Arwen’s holes are so worn that even they are passing her up to the higher tiers, they can not get as much as a reaction from her, because her body is already grown accustomed to their various assaults. But even as used up as Arwen has become, she is still a toy to be used. The c*m keeps on spilling inside and on her, and soon enough, by the end of the way, they will always make sure to cover her up with their c*m so much until she practically drowns in its thick pool.

Once the mark of six years arrive, the trolls start eyeing her children. It is not long before they begin picking up her daughters one by one.

All three of her daughters share her beautiful features. Aside from the odd horns on their heads, all of her daughters are greatly desirable. The trolls begin to take notice, and they begin taking them from her embraces. First, her eldest daughter. One troll takes her virginity without mercy, slamming his already rigid c**k into her fully, causing blood to drench out from her cunt.

The girl cries out loud, begging for mercy, begging for her mother to save her. But the girl knows what it so come. Her mother can not save her. These trolls will use her up until she is pregnant by them, just like what had happened to her mother. So the girl accepts her fate.

The second and third daughter, the bigger trolls pick them up. Just like their older sister, the trolls take their virginities mercilessly, raving on the claiming, too excited for tasting their fresh cunts to care about the pain that they are inflicting. And once they are satisfied with ruining those recently virgin p*****s, they will lodge themselves into their ass, pushing pass all force and barriers that their extremely tight young ass can provide. More blood spills, and it is not long before the pain in their bodies start to turn into pleasure.

The orgies end with all sisters and mother being f****d at the same time from all directions, some trolls even alternating from f*****g one sister’s hole to another sister’s mouth. Then from daughter, the c**k will be passed down to the mother. By the end of the way, they all taste and smell the same: their own and their masters’ c*m.

When they are done with them, Arwen is left to pick up the pieces for their daughters. She has to be strong for them, so she can not cry. She will hold in her feelings, so that her daughters will not have to suffer. Arwen picks up a cloth and begins washing off the blood from their tights.

Goodbye innocence.

. . . . .

“ Éowyn & Galadriel ”

Much after the birth of her granddaughters, the wargs’ cave receive news of the upcoming arrival of Galadriel. This nest will be Galadriel’s third place as a s*x slave, if the rumors are correct. Before setting sail to the orcs, Galadriel has been in the brutal care of the trolls. It seems that for whatever reason, she is of no use to the orcs anymore, and is now sent to the wargs. But Éowyn can not really blame the high elf. The trolls are huge and brutal, but the orcs are not as lenient, especially considering their numbers.

It is not before half a decade that Éowyn eventually takes notice of her youth. She has not changed so much after her birthing, and the human woman suspects that it has something to do with the poison that Scar, the first warg who had claimed her, has given her. Could it perhaps not be a poison, but a youth potion instead? Because as much as the woman can tell from the reflection of rippling waters, there has not been a new wrinkle formed on her since.

There seems to be something to worry about in Galadriel’s arrival. Not only is the elf is much prettier than any other human women around, but her holes are widened so much until a dozen wargs can stick themselves inside each of her hole without much struggle. It is when the crowd surrounding the elf starts to gradually becomes larger than hers that Éowyn starts to become overly worried. One by one, the wargs that usually give her warmth start to leave her for the new hole.

Éowyn is lying if she says she is not jealous. Even though her daughters’ positions have been secured, Éowyn still prefers being surrounded by warmth. But she can not maintain that if Galadriel keeps stealing her wargs. Yes, they are hers, even though they are her masters — the sires of her children. It is only when her resources start to decline greatly that Éowyn begins to suffer from the impact of this change.

What ration that is usually supposed to go to her is now delivered to Galadriel instead. She can not believe this, but the wargs actually favors a newbie such as the elf rather than her, who is used to getting surrounded by these male wargs all the time. They are starting to transfer their attentions to the elf, and little by the little the crowd around Éowyn is starting to thin out, until none is left but one.

Éowyn can not help but bite her nails when almost all of the wargs who usually f**k her are now f*****g Galadriel. Instead of her soaked p***y and waiting asshole that they f**k, it is Galadriel’s that they fill up. Instead of stuffing her mouth with their engorged c**k, it is Galadriel’s mouth that they ease into for their release.

Éowyn can not help but feel threatened with the female elf’s presence. If she allows this to continue, soon enough there will be no one to tend to her, especially during the coldness of the night. But that can not be, right? They will still need her holes to f**k, right? Scar will not leave her, right? Because even with the so many wargs who have taken her, Scar still shows his interest in her. In fact, he does not even seem to mind that her holes have loosened up so much since the first time he took her. There is still that dangerous heat in his eyes whenever he lays his eyes on her when his thick c**k is plunged into her ass.

It’s pathetic, what Éowyn is reduced to. But the woman simply does not care; she only wants d***s in her ass. She starts wiggling her ass, tempting for anyone to take. She manages to turn a few heads, and soon enough the wargs begin humping her in the ass while she is subjected to being on all fours. The woman manages to earn back the few warg masters that Galadriel has stolen from her, and she is not shy to parade her little victory to the other female.

Galadriel simply smiles at her sad attempts, surprising them both by crawling on to her until her fingers find her way into Éowyn’s snatch. The older woman begins pumping her out, causing Éowyn to be sent over the edge. She is skillful, the human has to admit that; the more she touches her, the wetter she becomes. Galadriel reduced her to a soaking wet mess, her juice pooling under her ass. The other wargs begin to move behind the elf, now taking turns f*****g her in the ass, plunging their c***s deeply into her. Galadriel even manages to go as far as matching the pace of their f*****g to the pace of her fingers inside Éowyn’s p***y.

Éowyn glares at the other woman, feeling irk starts to get to her again when the female elf is stealing her warg masters right in front of her eyes. The human wants to fight back, but she has been pushed to the ground until her ass is planted to the ground, blocking the other wargs from entering her itching hole. Galadriel compensates by inserting her fingers further in, slowing adding up the digits until her whole fist ends up inside Éowyn birth canal. She is so loose that it does not even take much effort to enter her, and Éowyn can not help but arch her back in response to the penetration.

While Galadriel is busy pumping Éowyn’s cunt, the other wargs start to gather thanks to the s*x pheromone that these two have spread around. At this rate, more wargs will end up watching them as Éowyn is close to her climax.

When she hits her climax, Galadriel cums in silence, so elegantly and ladylike. But when Éowyn hits her limits, she tends to make a mess out of things, shooting her wet juices to any direction it takes, staining herself while screaming at the top of her lungs. Maybe it is also thanks to the elf that she manages to earn back the attentions of the wargs that she has lost, causing them to turn their heads — and also their wangs — towards her. Their d***s are already hard and bursting with pre-c*m by the time they enter her through multiple penetrations.

The human woman thanks the elf in silence, and they go on their respective ways, getting c*m fill all days round.

Though in the end, the wargs begin to lose their interest in her when Éowyn falls pregnant, this time with more babies than the last. They might have stuck a dozen seeds inside her this time, and Éowyn’s stomach soon begins to grow large in a very fast pace, down to the point that it is difficult for her to move.

Flexibility is one of the things that the wargs favor, especially when they prefer to claim a female in groups. Éowyn’s bulging stomach proves to be a challenging state for them to take risks in, especially since the wargs desire to earn more slaves. The same thing goes with the rest of the human females.

Though different from the other women who are more than relieved to be left alone most of the time during their pregnancies, Éowyn still prefers to be f****d rather than ignored. Over the years she did not notice, she has grown to become addicted to getting f**k so roughly, especially in her loose ass. The other women are also experiencing the same thing, though not as hard as Éowyn. When she does not get handled roughly from extreme claiming, she will become restless, and it unnerves her. If she is left alone, she will have time to ponder on her own thoughts. And if she does, she will be forced to face the reality of her situations; her sins and suffering.

She thinks that once she gives birth to these children, everything will turn back to normal. But the human is wrong. Once they f**k her so hard until she falls into pregnancy again, the wargs leave her. She misses their hard d***s buried inside her, but Éowyn is forced to endure her craving. No more orgies for her again until next time. And when the time does come, she becomes so lost in the f*****g that time actually progresses faster. She misses the rush, the crowding of their engorged d***s. She wants them all inside her, half a dozen at the same time, from her ass and from her p***y, just to drill themselves into her together. She wants her fill, too.

Scar is still there for her, eventually becoming the one who f***s her the most. It still frightens her whenever he glares down at her while he moves his hips into her, but at least over time Éowyn begins to learn to believe in him. That he is not going to kill her anytime soon — not yet, at least. She still has some uses to him, and she is just glad that he thinks so.

In the end, the wargs make her a breeder, f*****g her only when her stomach is empty after giving birth. Then, when she once again takes in their seeds, most of them will start avoiding her. She still gets f****d, though just not in such horrendous numbers as before, when they will indulge her in an orgy. There are still the occasional lone wargs to fill her ass for once in awhile, but it only makes her crave for the ultimate satisfaction even more.

Éowyn will continue to look at Galadriel with jealousy; much because it is much more difficult for an elf to allow seeds to take roots inside their wombs. Their pregnancy rate is lower, thus making her the perfect main receiving end to the wargs’ release.

At least, she still has Scar, who has become her constant companion throughout the time. She longs for the days when he will return from hunting. She has other newborn children to take care of when she has no other duties to perform, but she prefers to be lost in pleasure than return back to her old self. Taking care of these girls remind her of her firstborn — her dead son — and the haunting thoughts irk her to no end.

She is not the only one in this group who has experienced loss, but that does not mean that she can handle everything well and keep it in. Some days, she just needs to let it loose, weeping herself to sleep. Poor her. Poor son. Poor girls.

Poor, poor fate.

— THE END —