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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

“My lady, I bring news of incursions at Tiragarde Keep.” Dark Ranger Thyala perched on bended knee as she gave her report to Sylvanas, averting her eyes from the Banshee Queen. At one time, this would have been a show of respect. Now, Thyala found herself loath to look around Grommash Hold’s spacious throne room. Gone were the usual throngs of advisors; the war maps were rolled up and piled near the wall and the chatter of generals and warriors had fallen silent. Only the ever-present braziers of burning fire remained, casting the room in a hellish glow.

Sylvanas was reclining luxuriously on her throne, feet up on the armrest. As it had been made for an orc, her petite and shapely body folded neatly into it. At hearing Thyala’s report, she yawned and waved a dismissive hand. “Tiragarde Keep, ha! Old remnants of the Second War, clinging to their foolish claims! Find an able hand and slay them all!”

“Yes, but, my lady-” Thyala replied, her voice dark, sinful - and concerned. Before she could continue her report, a cry echoed from the corner of the chamber, the corner where Sylvanas’ eyes had been transfixed ever since Thyala had come in and dropped to one knee. There was a pulpy, wet sound as Grundle, the massive abomination that now served as Jaina Proudmoore’s ‘husband’, shoved his monstrous, stitched-together cock into the blonde archmage’s sopping wet box. Thyala couldn’t resist glancing to her side, just for a moment - her training had made it second nature to train her eyes on any sudden sound - and she saw the utterly obscene sight of more than two feet of discolored, boil-crusted penis slicing into the stretched sleeve of Jaina’s bare cunt.

Thyala couldn’t believe how low her former enemy had been brought. Jaina’s body, trained by constant fucking of her ogrishly-sized beau, had become voluptuous in the extreme. In her doggystyle position, her huge sow tits hung all the way to the floor, and her massive, pale buttocks formed huge crescents of flesh that bounced and wobbled as Grundle thrust his foul meat into her nethers. Each stab made a nasty slopping sound, displacing lube from Jaina’s pussy that sprayed onto the floor, while causing her smooth belly to bulge out in the shape of the abomination’s enormous knob.

“Grundle rape!” Grundle exclaimed, his oafish voice echoing in the chamber.

“Yes, my wonderful husband!” Jaina moaned, her dazzling blue eyes rolling back and her tongue falling out of her mouth. Her two-tone hair was done up in a haphazard braid, and she wore the tight bustier of the Proudmoore Admiralty, but that was all - her tits and ass were totally exposed, her shoulders and feet bare. She also wore a slender Azerite choker to dampen her powers; but it’s exquisite craftsmanship made it look only like a further piece of decorative jewelry. “Fuck up my womb with your smelly cock!”

Thyala wrinkled her nose, but then hid the expression quickly, not wanting the Dark Lady to think she was being disobedient. Already there were rumors that handpicked agents of the Banshee Queen were watching everything and everyone to root out the disloyal. It was well known that Sylvanas had lost interest in most affairs of state, preferring instead to stay in Grommash Hold, tormenting her new ‘pet’ for hours on end. And there was something else that Thyala observed. The pleasures of the flesh were but distant memories to her, echoed of a past life. Sylvanas, subject to a similar curse, should have been the same. Yet as Thyala watched, Sylvanas’ face seemed almost aroused at the sight of Jaina’s torment… and the warchief’s hands moved sensuously on the throne, brushing subconsciously against her shapely inner thighs.

“What do you think of my pet?” Sylvanas said, still not taking her eyes of Jaina. “Wondrous, isn’t she? And to so completely rekindle Horde honor by her subjugation - is that not a powerful sign of our resurgence?”

“I have no opinion, my lady,” Thyala said, carefully. “I shape my will to the lady’s preference.”

Sylvanas only grunted, as if she’d expected no better answer. The Rape of Orgrimmar, during which she’d been subjected to more than a week of unended sexual assault at the hands of Orath and the Alliance forces, had changed something in her. Her body had awakened; now, her usual cold-blooded calculations were forged in dark flames of twisted desire. “Describe how it feels!” she called out to Jaina, watching the archmage’s body shake and wobble as it was skewered by the massive abomination cock. “Show our guest the glory of Horde vengeance!”

“That isn’t necessary-” Thyala began, but Jaina brainlessly started babbling immediately, having been trained over the prior two weeks to follow Sylvanas’ every command.

“My husband’s… huge… and smelly cock… is covered in warts and tumors!” Jaina groaned, drooling pathetically from the tip of her wagging tongue. “It feels so good when… they… scrape out my slutty pussy!” Her hands clenched and she slumped forward, obviously orgasming as Grundle’s meat slammed into her, tenting her guts. Her tits piled in white, sweat-glistening drifts on the stone floor, and her ass thrust up in the air, meaty cheeks wobbling as they were covered in her husband’s syrupy drool.

“Grundle cum!” the abomination announced, it’s large and mongrelized face smiling brainlessly, and Jaina gasped out with lewd desire in response. There was a low and slimy sound like an unclogging drain as the beast hilted it’s huge cock in Jaina’s pussy, seeming to stretch her impossibly, making her belly bulge out in that oblong, lumpy cock shape. Thyala had long forgotten any physical sensations such as nausea, but she nearly rediscovered the feeling when she heard the sound of Grundle’s cock exploding with a huge torrent of porridge thick, yellow cum - PBTHTHHTHTHTHTTHTHTHHT!

Jaina’s belly bulge went from dick-shaped to perfectly round as she was inflated with semen, and Sylvanas couldn’t hide her joy at this humiliation; an act that she now observed several times each day, like clockwork. “The abomination’s load is mostly disfigured and dead sperm,” she remarked to Thyala. “It’s yellow, chunky and smells terrible. A fitting task, after what these Alliance dogs put us through?” 

Sylvanas showed more interest in this than in any aspect of Thyala’s report, but the Dark Ranger tried to steer things back on track. “My Lady,” she said, “The matter of Tiragarde Keep-”

“Tiragarde Keep!” Sylvanas yelled, with frustration, and her gauntleted hand smashed down as her voice became vicious. “You bring me these trifles, news of Kul Tiran castoffs, and expect-”

“Begging your pardon my lady, these were not Kul Tirans but riders from Stormwind. Scouts.”

“Riders? Cavalry? ” Sylvanas’ ears perked up.

“Not heavy,” Thyala said quickly, relieved beyond measure to be talking business. “Powerful steeds, but for speed. We believe they are observing Durotar… to see if you will abide by the terms of the peace agreement. They are counting troops, looking for any buildup… and for information about the treatment of… Jaina Proudmoore.”

Sylvanas’ eyes blazed. “Spies!” she seethed. Thyala’s theory that they wanted information about Jaina could have been true, but as a ploy to make sure her attention was firmly on the matter at hand, it succeeded. Sylvanas looked at Jaina for a moment as Grundle withdrew his penis and a massive, lumpy creampie of stinking, chunky yellow semen started to slop from her stretched-open slit. Jaina, orgasmic and eye-rolling, was holding her enormous, round cum belly and rubbing her hands over it like a pregnant woman exalting her unborn.

The Banshee Queen rose from her throne and walked toward Jaina, who still seemed her entire preoccupation. “Take them alive, you understand?” she said to Dark Ranger Thyala, and finished taking the dozen steps toward where Jaina was laying like a whale beached in cum. Sylvanas planted a boot on her belly, moaning her ‘pet’ moan with pleasure at the abuse. “If they want to see what’s become of their treasured Jaina Proudmoore, and jeopardize this fragile piece… let them see as much as they like!”

She stamped her foot down on Jaina’s cum-swollen gut, and there was an undignified flatulent noise as rancid semen burst from her opening, flowing out onto the floor as Sylvanas pressure drove it from her body. Jaina shuddered and started cumming again, her limbs flailing like a spit-roasted sow. “Nngh! It’s… making me cum on the way out!” she wailed, having her second humiliating orgasm of the afternoon. Grundle, without the brains to do much other than stand around while he wasn’t fucking, stood sentinel over the whole sordid mess. 

The stench of backed-up, rotten sperm filled the chamber, and again, Thyala’s nose wrinkled - even with her senses forever changed in undeath, and the heat in her body quelled, she recognized the foul stink of abomination semen. Having dwelled in the Undercity before its destruction in Orath’s war, she had thought no smell could affect her - she’d endured abominations, a pall of mass graves, and the alchemic stench of the Royal Apothecary’s strangest experiments. Nonetheless, this stink of musk and sex made her slender and regal nose burn.

Sylvanas stamped down on Jaina repeatedly, until her swollen belly was mostly deflated and a fan of yellow cum was sprayed all over the chamber floor. Only then did she relent, and then walk to stand over Jaina, looking at her imperiously. 

“Take them alive,” Sylvanas instructed, as she squatted over Jaina’s face and took down her armored leggings, exposing her shapely hips and her bare pussy. Thyala kept herself from turning away only with difficulty, and saw that Jaina’s huge breasts, swollen from their regular beatings, fuckings, and being sucked out by battle wargs, had been pierced at the nipple, the metal in the shape of emblems of the horde. 

“Y-yes, my lady,” Thyala said, wanting desperately to be anywhere else. She had heard all of the grumblings and rumors - that Sylvanas had been irrevocably changed, that Saurfang and others had lost confidence in her leadership because of her vicious desire for revenge and humiliation. That she had been derelict in her leadership spending all her days in Grommash Hold, watching Jaina be fucked and abused. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, loyal as she was. But now…

“Ahhh!” Sylvanas gasped, and threw her head back. She spread her puffy pussy lips and exploded in Jaina’s face with a harsh blast of piss. The mind-broken human eagerly opened her mouth to accept it, guzzling Sylvanas’ waste eagerly like it was the finest wine. The Banshee Queen was squatting lewdly, buttocks outthrust, thighs apart, her asshole and pussy just inches from Jaina’s mouth, overloading her with hot, foamy output. Thyala knew very well what it meant. Sylvanas didn’t need to eat or drink to survive - so this display meant that she had taken water and wine for the express purpose of making Jaina Proudmoore drink her piss.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Jaina swallowed with swollen cheeks until Sylvanas’ flow abated. When she was done, Jaina craned her nose and mouth up toward Sylvanas’ pussy, aiming to lick and suck. Sylvanas did not prevent it at first, only turned to Thyala and added: “And once you have them, keep them under guard near Ragefire Chasm, where it is hot. They may be given water to drink but may not bathe.”

Thyala did not question the strange order - she no longer wanted to know what Sylvanas had planned. “Yes, my lady.” Sylvanas waved her away, and she was grateful to leave, sparing only one final glance over her shoulder into the barren room. There were not even any Forsaken Deathguards permitted inside what had become Sylvanas private fuck chamber. 

Jaina was nuzzling her nose against Sylvanas’ clit and licking at her pussy lips as Thyala made her exit. This attention lasted only a few seconds, however, before Sylvanas reached down and pushed Jaina’s head away. “You stupid whore,” she hissed. “Trying to make me as big a slut as you are! I am not a sex-addicted sow like you, I am the warchief of the Horde!” Warchief or not, her loins were hot and throbbing and wet in Jaina’s face, part of the rekindling that Sylvanas had felt since the events of the Fourth War. 

Sylvanas examined Jaina and thought for a moment that she saw a sense of mischief in her expression - a look that said ‘come on, you know you like it’. Jaina had been obedient, mindless, cock-addicted for days, ever since being raped for hours and hours by Grundle and every other able-bodied Horde male who chose to partake. Was this flash of petulant cunning just her imagination? Grunting with disgust, Sylvanas planted her boot on Jaina’s face and shoved her to the floor roughly, drawing a groan.

“Fucking slut,” she breathed, her armored chest rising and falling. Much as she could not admit it, though, she had been close to letting Jaina munch, like and slurp happily at her smooth and supple pussy. No , she thought. I am in control. I was not tempted. My body does not have such needs.

With this self-assurance, she left the chamber, leaving Jaina on the floor in the thick puddle of abomination cum.

The five members of Expedition Team Hawk’s Eye were all human; trusted members of the Alliance’s intelligence service, SI:7, assigned by Mathias Shaw to observe Orgrimmar. Their mission had been to observe Orgrimmar, paying close attention to any buildup of troops. In addition, the assignment had a secret component - Anduin Wrynn was concerned about the Horde’s treatment of Jaina. The Horde was to hold her captive for four weeks to ‘stand trial’ for her involvement in the Fourth War… but there were dark rumors afoot.

There was Galant Tarley, the expedition leader, long-haired and lantern-jawed. Ox Greyson, the mutton-chopped and barrel-chested Gilnean veteran. Keegan Verger, the blonde-haired and blue-eyed rookie who hadn’t yet grown whiskers on his chin. Mariuz Klein, a heavyset and dour man of duty who was the fittest fighter of the bunch. Tyrick Jons was the magic-user of the group, a practiced mage who also had a knack for remaining unseen.

The trouble was, they had been seen. Galant expected that if they were encountered, it would be no small matter to disengage and report back to Stormwind… but Sylvanas’ dark rangers had fallen on them from all directions as they made camp on the bluffs of Durotar, rendering escape impossible. Now, they were imprisoned in depths of Orgrimmar, somewhere near Ragefire Chasm, judging from the abominable heat.

They had been stripped naked and chained wrist and ankle to walls of rock in a cave-like cell, the entrance barred. For a week, they were permitted only scraps of bread and some dour water, given by a dead-faced Forsaken jailor whose bandaged-over eyes certainly contained no hint of mercy. They slumped against the wall, penises plump and lifeless on their thighs, bodies absolutely soaked in sweat as the air shimmered with heat. They were not permitted to wash themselves; the air was thick with the smell of their bodies as Galant repeated the same statement every time he heard footsteps approach.

The peace between the Horde and Alliance is yet fragile. You hold us here without cause. We were emissaries sent by Anduin to safeguard the peace talks. Release us.

He repeated it enough times that his voice started to crack in the course of the first week, but there was never any response, just the clatter of a new plate of moldy bread and a bucket of water. Only on the eighth day did something change. Footsteps approached again, light and confidence, and Galant broke once again into his spiel:

“The peace between the Horde and Alliance is yet fragile-”

But he was interrupted by his own man, Keegan, the young and downy-faced pretty boy, whose blue eyes bugged out wide as he looked at the barred cell entrance. “Oh, shit!” he cried. “It’s her.”

Indeed it was. Sylvanas Windrunner herself, looking as shapely as ever with her eyes glowing their soft red, had come to see them. Her breasts had come down somewhat in their swelling since being subjected to gnomish experiments during the Fourth War, but were still larger than before. Otherwise, she was the same banshee bitch who had vexed their cause for years.

“Silence,” she chided Galant. “I will hold you here with cause or without cause as I see fit. My rangers will kill you on my word, defiling your bodies before, during or after as I choose. Do not dare to threaten me.” She was holding a leather, studded leash in her hand, and Keegan, the most excitable of the men, seemed rather fearful about what it might portend.

“She’s got a core hound!” he whispered to Ox. “That’s why we’re so close to the chasm, she’s going to feed us to the core hounds!”

Sylvanas opened the gate and stepped inside, tugging gently on the leash. “You came to observe, did you?” she taunted. “The Boy King does like to stick his troublesome nose in where it doesn’t belong. Well, I will show you what you came to see.” She gave the leash a pull and something came crawling around the corner, hand and knee on the warm cavern floor, but it was no beast. Rather, it was Jaina Proudmoore, blindfolded and nude, her sow-like tits hanging nearly to the floor with their piercings, her ass branded with a horde symbol on one bouncing, twerking mound of bubbly ass-flesh. The Azerite choker around her neck was her only other adornment, and it was to this feature that the leash was attached.

Jaina’s face was flushed and the insides of her thighs were painted with wetness, as if she was in heat. “Where is my husband?” she whined. “Why did you take my husband away?”

Sylvanas laughed cruelly as she tugged on Jaina’s tether. “I decided to send Grundle to the laboratory for an upgrade,” she said. “Don’t worry - your abomination husband will not be washed the entire time. Just like these men here!” She gestured to the captured five. “They have been stewing in their own sweat for more than a week.”

Jaina’s mouth turned into an eager smile. “Ooh!” she moaned, and began crawling blindly toward their location, chained-up at the back wall of the cell. 

“Sylvanas,” Galant growled, shrinking back against the wall. “This goes beyond the limits of being perverse!”

“Lady Proudmoore is a hero of the Alliance!” Keegan said, and his face was filled with what could only be described as admiration for a woman he’d clearly once seen as his idol… and more than likely had a crush on. “You were to have her for a public trail! Not this!” The blonde-haired young man looked as if he was about to cry at how far Jaina had fallen, and Sylvanas, who had a keen sense for any kind of hope or love she could exploit to her own purposes, zeroed in on this in an instant, leading Jaina by her leash until she was between the captive’s splayed, athletic legs.

“A hero of the Alliance?” Sylvanas taunted, keeping her voice calm and melodic, like the spider luring the fly. “Did you not hear of what she did at Orgrimmar? And of her role in creating the hybrid army?” 

Keegan turned his head to the side as Jaina’s head hovered around his sweaty, steaming penis, squinting his eyes shut in negation. “That’s… that’s not true!” he blurted. “It was Orath! Lady Jaina was mind-controlled by him!” Clearly the Alliance propaganda machine was in full swing, recontextualizing the Fourth War as a necessary measure after the Rape of Teldrassil… and Jaina’s role in Sylvanas’ rape at Orgrimmar simply the result of ‘mind control’ by Orath, the true villain.

Sylvanas, not known for being mirthful, threw back her head and gave a long and villainous laugh. She laughed so long and so loud, in fact, that she had to lean against the dank cavern walls as she held her sides. “Mind control!” she gasped. “Is that what they told you?” She could see in Keegan’s youthful face - in all of their faces, really - the dutiful belief that Lady Jaina was a noble hero who had been caught up in foul and dark events.

She nudged Jaina with her foot, sending that round, white rump a-jiggling and drawing a gasp from the constantly horny sex slave. “These men have all been confined in this hot cell and not allowed to bathe for more than a week,” she said. “Don’t you think you should service your Alliance comrades?”

Galant’s eyes went wide. “We would never! To partake in this sort of thing-” he blustered, but he was drowned out.

“Can I!?” Jaina wailed, licking her lips as she crawled forward on all fours, her heavy tits swaying side to side. “I miss my husband’s huge and smelly cock so much!” The utter brainlessness in her voice caused all the Alliance men present’s morale to flag. Shaw had told them that Anduin had suspected ‘mistreatment’ of Jaina… but they had never expected this!

Keegan pressed his back against the wall as much as his bonds would allow, trying somehow to move his bare pelvis from Jaina’s path. He had such an idealized view of her - had crushed on her so hard growing up in Stormwind - that it was horrible to see her current state. As she opened her mouth and licked her lips, crawling unerringly toward his penis despite her blindfold, he tried to dissuade her. “Wait! No, Lady Jaina… that’s… dirty!” he stammered, blushing nearly red beneath the bangs of his blonde hair. “They don’t let me wash… it’s…”

“Mmm, it fucking stinks !” she hissed, rubbing her exposed mouth and nose against his sweat-soaked shaft and balls. “You’ve built up such a huge amount of cock cheese!” Keegan’s pale cock was half-hard in spite of himself, unable to resist the super-voluptuous archmage of his desires regardless of her current state. How many times as a teenager had he pleasured himself thinking about Jaina’s big tits and amazing ass? Now, her jugs and butt-globes were rounder than he ever remembered!

“Please, no!” he gasped, as she lifted his stout and sweat-soaked organ and jammed her tongue into his foreskin, rooting around between that membrane of skin and his throbbing glans. “No, you shouldn’t… for someone like you, to-”

“Amazing!” Jaina breathed, her hot exhalations bathing his cock and balls. “There’s so much smegma!” She was totally enchanted by the chunky ring of whitish-yellow filth that had piled up around the ring of Keegan’s cocktip, and mashed the flat of her tongue against it to lick up as much as possible, building it up in a fat wad before drawing it into her mouth. She chewed with gusto, showing the flecks of cock cheese on her teeth and tongue before swallowing it down and burrowing her tongue in for more. Keegan hissed through clenched teeth as his cock grew to full hardness.

Sylvanas knelt next to the two of them, still holding the leash. “Oh my! I think this one was in love with her,” she remarked, running a cold hand down Keegan’s cheek and making him flinch away. “Did you ever believe that the mighty Jaina Proudmoore would be sucking your fat cock?”

“It is mind control!” the mage Tyrick spat, looking at the scene in disgust. He too was shackled, and though he had looked for ways to conjure a spell to aid in their escape, his teleportation powers were blocked - and Sylvanas’ strength was such that he couldn’t hope to try a surprise attack. “That collar - I recognize it! Orath’s dampening device! You’ve subdued her and twisted her mind!”

Sylvanas threw back her head and laughed again. “Ha! Alliance fools! Jaina, show them what you like to do best!”

Jaina’s mouth and lips stretched out into a lewd, humiliating blowjob face as she wetly swallowed up Keegan’s large, long penis in a swathe of slurping and spit. She began to bob her face on it, snot running from her nose and sperm-bubbles leaking from her mouth as she suckled and nursed, her cheeks hollowing out. She had chunks of cock cheese on her lips and picked up several of the young man’s stray pubes on her cheeks as she swallowed him to the balls, even mashing the flat of her tongue against his nutsack as she let his prong batter her tonsils.

Keegan, shackled, had nowhere to retreat from Jaina’s lewd attentions. She made the nastiest, wettest sucking noises possible, as if her goal were to illustrate her humiliation - spitty, sloppy glottal noises, dry heaves, and throat gurgles. His face was a mix of ecstasy and horror. “Lady Jaina! Please, you don’t have to do this! I can’t bear to… to see you-”

She pulled her mouth off with a pop, and breathing hard, gasped out a response to him. “It’s alright if your week-old cum is really backed up and thick!” she moaned. “I really like that!” She leaned in and kissed first one of his big nuts, then the other. “I want your chunkiest, nastiest load!” She buried her nose in the furrow of his nuts and inhaled the fat sweat droplets that had collected there before exhaling orgasmically, tongue lolling. “I love cleaning your cock!”

Keegan’s sweaty, athletic body surged at the pelvis, pumping forward and out while his limbs remained shackled, driving his cock as deep as it could go back into Jaina’s sucking, stretched out lips. She continued to fellate him - succ, slllrrrp, slrrrrk - loudly and unhesitatingly, her mouth contorted into a tube shape that made her philtrum elongate and glisten with a deposit of pre-cum. The young spy cried out and gasped as he began to unload shot after shot of his week-abstained semen into her mouth, puffing out Jaina’s cheeks lewdly.

Sylvanas produced a chalice then, as if by magic - she’d had it with her the whole time, snug against one curvy hip - and plunked the bone-decorated drinking vessel next to Jaina’s cheek. “Don’t swallow yet,” she admonished. “I think your Alliance comrades would like to see you have a nice drink!”

Obediently, Jaina positioned her cheek-puffed mouth over the chalice and let all of Keegan’s heavy sperm drool out, filling it partway. The issue was of such thickness that strands of it hung from her lips, and the captive men were bound to observe as Jaina lowered herself to the task of sperm collector. That she was turned on was obvious, her thick inner thighs were painted with glistening wetness, dripping down both sides. As Keegan slumped against the wall, hanging his head in shame at cumming down the throat of the woman he’d so long desired to protect, she performed a degrading, ball-slurping cleanup fellatio on his softening cock.

The blonde-haired man was almost weeping; his vision of Jaina as a strong and indomitable Alliance figurehead had been shattered. Sylvanas, as ever, seemed to feed on these emotions, and knelt down to menace him with a wicked grin. “Jaina, what do you think of this Alliance cock?” she purred, placing a domineering hand on the archmage’s thick ass.

“It’s… really small!” Jaina complained, though she didn’t stop sucking it in between breathy words. “Horde cocks are so much bigger… especially my husband’s!” Keegan’s shoulders slumped even further and Sylvanas threw back her head and laughed.

“Torment us no further, banshee bitch!” Ox Greyson barked, hoping to provoke a response. “Kill us if you must, but know the Alliance will not stand for this! You harm your own people with this transgression!” Fed up with the emasculating proceedings, and more than a little disgusted with Jaina, he hoped to provoke Sylvanas. When the Dark Lady moved cat-quick in his direction, seeming to travel incorporeal like a banshee with a darting movement that was faster than fast, he prepared for death. But instead, she ripped the manacles holding his wrists from the wall, and shoved him face-first to his hands and knees.

“Don’t move,” Sylvanas seethed at him. “Or it will be your friends who suffer, not you.” And so he stayed, burly, barrel-bellied, thick of leg and arm, his penis hanging down as he pressed his palms to the warm cavern floor. His body hair was plastered with sweat, and Sylvanas took Jaina’s leash and led her around to his rear, before addressing her.

“I know you miss your husband, so I have a gift for you!” Sylvanas teased, and then reached down and pulled up Jaina’s blindfold, letting her pretty blue eyes fixate on the burly, muscled man-ass in front of her, complete with hanging penis and balls. Ox’s expression went grave on his mutton-chop sideburned face, and he looked back over his shoulder from his embarrassing position.

“It’s... amazing!” Jaina cooed, sniffing the air deeply and inhaling the sweaty musk wafting off of Ox’s nether regions. She crawled forward and placed her hands on Ox’s muscled buttocks, squeezing them, kneading them. Soon, her sizzling breath was basting his skin as she moved within kissing distance. “The smell is so strong!”

“Clean out his ass, sow,” Sylvanas ordered. “These men have come all this way to see you, you must entertain them and give them a proper report to send back to your Boy King!”

Jaina sighed with pleasure at being permitted to indulge, and leaned her face in to lick luxuriously up one of Ox’s heavy buttocks, dragging the wet appendage over his skin and collecting all of the sweat and grease that had accumulated from their week long, bathless incarceration. She kissed his ass-cheeks, moaned into them, worshiped them. Within moments, there were stray ass-hairs stuck in her teeth and on the corner of her licking, sucking mouth, curly and plastered flat with sweat.

“No!” Ox grunted, gritting his teeth against the feeling of being serviced so degradingly. “Lady… Jaina! You… musn’t…”

But of course there was no stopping her. Jaina pressed her dainty nose directly against Ox’s hairy anal ring and sniffed as hard as she could, inhaling pure musk and sweat from his unwashed shitter, letting the overpowering scent sizzle in her brain. “Nnngh!” she moaned, blinking, looking slightly dizzy. “It fucking stinks !” But the way she said it, it was clear she was not dismayed but deliriously, orgasmically happy. Her tongue unfurled without hesitation and began to lick and slurp around Ox’s rim, matting the ass-hairs flat and licking up whatever sweat they contained.

The veteran spy’s eyes squinted and his breath exploded through his nose. “This… you… you mustn’t!” he stammered, his cock hardening and lengthening between his heavy thighs. As Jaina serviced his anus, she used her hand to milk it downward, jacking him off as her tongue tickled his shithole. “Lady Jaina… I… aaagh!”

She pressed her face in closer, bracing her hands on his ass and spreading him wide, burying her sex-sow features in the sweaty, hairy trough of his asscrack. She sealed her mouth over his rim and her tongue burrowed far deeper than before, scraping against the earthy walls of his bowels. Ox’s elbows gave way and he collapsed down, still on his knees, ass exposed as Jaina licked and slurped loudly.

“This is what you swore to protect!” Sylvanas taunted him while Jaina sealed her mouth around his anus, hollowing her cheeks out as she applied suction, crinkly hairs curling over the rim of her mouth as she made deep, moist slurping noises. “Your vows of loyalty to the Stormwind crown are worth less than shit! Do you really want to throw your life away for an ass-licking, cum chugging toilet sow like Jaina Proudmoore?”

Ox looked utterly demoralized, now sporting a rock-hard erection as his fellow operatives were forced to observe every detail of Jaina licking and sucking his anus. “I… this is... “ he gasped, his bell hitching with fast breaths. “If you don’t stop… I’ll… I can’t… please, Lady Jaina, you mustn’t… nnnwwuuugh!”

His heavy belly rumbled and, stirred up by the deep probing of Jaina’s tongue and her suckling ass-slurping, he blasted a musky, sweaty fart directly into her mouth. His limbs seemed to unlimber themselves as all duty in his protection mission was rendered derelict; he prayed that this indignity would be the one that caused her to recoil, rise up, and break free of Sylvanas clutches! 

“Nnngh, fuck!” Jaina moaned. “Yes, use my face as a toilet! Just like my husband!” She snaked her tongue back into his ass and somehow started to probe even deeper. Ox felt utter defeat, his ideals of Alliance honor dashed. He allowed Jaina to milk his fat, foreskin-wrapped prong into the cum chalice without further rebuke or struggle, filling it nearly to the halfway mark. She peeled his unwashed meat and collected his smegma too, letting it mix with the cum.

When it was over, he collapsed against the wall alongside Keegan, his eyes as dull as his younger comrade’s, disillusioned with their mission and any ideal of Jaina as an Alliance icon. Sylvanas smiled viciously as she looked at the three others, offering them a simple choice - pull their knees up to their shoulders and let Jaina service their sweaty cocks, balls, and assholes, or watch their compatriots die gruesome and torturous deaths. “I’m sure you Alliance dogs can fill this goblet up with cum,” Sylvanas taunted. “Unless your cocks are as feeble as I remember.”

It was at this moment that she looked at Jaina and thought she saw another sly and knowing look, hidden behind her breathy, outward cock-lust. Jaina smirked for a moment, as if to say I bet you remember Alliance cocks, don’t you , but as quick as the look arrived, it was gone. Sylvanas quickly collected herself as Jaina went about the task of tending to Galant, Mariuz, and Tyrick. It had, she reasoned, just been her imagination. An after-effect of the cursed Alliance’s crimes against her at Orgrimmar. Jaina was broken, and would remain broken. Sylvanas was sure of it.

The warchief watched and felt the percolating heat in her loins as Jaina degraded herself on the cocks of the three unspent spies. She licked their assholes, sucked their balls clean of sweat and grime, and peeled their foreskins, hauling huge lumps of cock cheese into her mouth and chewing it, showing them the flecks of filth covering her tongue and teeth as she did so, not to mention the stray, sweat-matted pubes on her lips and cheeks. She moaned orgasmically the whole time, fingering herself. She gleefully sniffed and inhaled the sweat from their assholes, taints, and underarms. All the while, Sylvanas observed their disgust and hatred for Jaina growing. She represented a blow to their Alliance pride, a proof of Horde superiority that they found dishonorable and painful. Even though their mission was to report on her well-being, Sylvanas knew quite well what they were thinking.

She walked seductively up to the side of Galant, the leader, as Jaina squatted and serviced his cock. “Don’t you want to spit in her face?” she purred, leaning in close, her cold armor touching his hot skin. “Doesn’t she disgust you?”

For a moment, Galant glanced down at Jaina’s eye-rolling, cock-slurping face and seemed on the verge of breaking. But he kept his composure with difficulty. “I would… never abandon my duty!” he said. “This… this is all pointless, warchief. You only jeopardize the fragile peace-”

“Why is your cock so small compared to Horde cocks?” Jaina asked, pulling her mouth from his member. It wasn’t small - a good, stout seven inches of thick meat - but compared to the enormous, pussy-destroying size of her husband, or the hybrids, it couldn’t compare. Galant’s voice cut off with a wounded sound, and Jaina went on, her voice filled with disappointment. “Why are you all such a bunch of tiny-dick queers ?”

Sylvanas cackled with glee. “Jaina, show them your pussy,” she ordered, and Jaina immediately complied, settling onto her back and pulling her smooth, shapely thighs apart to lewdly display her wet cunt to all the captives. There was a dark iron piercing through her clit, and her heavy labia were swollen and darkened from weeks of nonstop rape. When she moved her hands down to spread her lips, the meaty curtains parted easily beneath her thatch of blonde pubic hair, revealing a sloppy, moist pink hole that seemed to undulate hungrily. 

“By the Light!” Keegan said, unable to look away. He had fantasized about Jaina’s pussy ever since he was a young lad, ascribing to it an almost mythical quality - a holy of holies more sacred even than the storied halls of Stormwind Cathedral. But now he saw the truth was much more sordid. Jaina was spreading herself wide to reveal a banged out, quivering whore hole!

“Take a look at your precious Jaina,” Sylvanas taunted. “Her pussy has been scraped out by so much huge Horde cock, it’s become bumpy and meaty inside.” Like an impresario showing off her latest freakshow to an astounded crowd, Sylvanas squatted law and then pressed her gauntleted hand against Jaina’s twat, forming a fist and then pressing it inside, making a wet, lube-displacing noise, causing spurts of pussy juice to splatter the floor. Jaina’s eyes rolled and she groaned, still holding her legs apart like a birthing sow. “See? She can take my whole fist, easily!”

She rammed her fist in up to the elbow a couple of times, then withdrew, with the bumpy and swollen membrane of Jaina’s pussy prolapsing around her wrist and clinging to it, before letting go with a pop and releasing a flood of squirt. The archmage was spread even wider now. “Look, you can see all the way to her womb!” Sylvanas announced. Jaina’s cervix was visible, quivering and opening and closing like the mouth of a gasping fish. “You Alliance simps wouldn’t even touch the sides! Jaina, who owns your pussy?”

“The Horde!” Jaina moaned. “I love my husband’s huge abomination cock!” Her blue eyes were unfocused with an obscene happiness, showing no regret at her pussy’s condition. “Mmm, my cunt is fucked up from all the rape… and it feels soooo good all the time! My beautiful Grundle fills me up every day with so much rotten, chunky yellow cum that smells like shit! I’ll never be able to have a baby again because he and thousands of hung Horde warriors have used my pussy as a fucking... nngh… toilet!”

“I think it’s about time for your feeding,” Sylvanas interjected, taking hold of the cum goblet that was now filled nearly to the brim, with four of the five men having contributed mightily while having their prostates pummeled by her tongue. The churning, lumpy mass of semen within was dusted with stray pubes and chunks of cock cheese as well; yet despite the foulness of it, Jaina reacted as if she was being presented with a treasure beyond price, her face instantly lighting up with hunger as it was lowered and placed in her hands. She rose to her knees, thighs spread, showing off her curves and her huge tits, her braided, two-color hair trailing down her back, several wild strands out of place from all of her oral work.

Jaina raised the goblet to her nose and took a long, deep inhale. Her eyelids fluttered as the backed-up semen and smegma she collected assaulted her sinuses with a brutal cum stink. Her face filled with euphoria, like a whore set to smoking some very potent hookah in one of Silvermoon City’s curtained rooms. “Mmm… it’s nice and thick !” she purred. “And the smell is so strong!” The men sullenly hung their heads as she raised the vessel to her lips and tilted it, starting to drink the semen with steady, audible gulps.

Glug. Glug. Glug. Jaina’s choker-wrapped neck swelled with her thick swallows, and as she knelt with thighs parted, showing off her voluptuous, fair-skinned body, she brought her other hand to her pussy and started to finger it, letting the nectar from her needy slit drip to the cavern floor. Sylvanas watched eagerly, barely able to restrain herself from seeking her own pleasure, as she watched the light of faith and duty fade from the eyes of the five Alliance men. To her, the extinguishing of hope was as arousing as any physical act. Any remaining ideas the man might have had of Jaina as a worthwhile human being were snuffed out as they watched her masturbate like a whore and guzzle thick, chunky semen, flecks of cock cheese and stray pubes clinging to her pert lips.

Jaina’s body tensed, round ass clenching, pelvis surging, as she plunged her fingers deep into her wet slit and started rubbing herself, squirting out lube as she gasped and moaned through her mouthfuls of wad. Keegan, the fresh-faced admirer of her ideal, turned his head to the side and vomited at what a disgusting whore she was, his naked body hitching with spasms, causing Sylvanas to laugh even louder

“This… this bitch,” Ox gasped, almost sobbing, slumped against the wall. “We risked our lives to… to check on her for the King… but… but she’s just… just a raped, ass-licking piece of shit!” His body, broken by captivity, became invigorated with a hate-fucking intent that caused Sylvanas no end of pleasure. In spite of his disgust, as he watched Jaina upend the cup and drain the last, thickest, nastiest wads of sperm into her mouth, his spent cock was becoming rock hard once more.

“Rape her, then,” the Dark Lady offered. “Rape her with all your remaining strength, and you will win your freedom. What is your Alliance honor worth, after all, if it brought you to defending this sex sow, and being captured for it? What has Anduin ever done for you besides risk your hides for such a cum pig?” She gestured at Jaina, who punctuated the remark but letting out a nasty cum burp. “Do as I say, and you walk away with your lives, free to do with them as you wish, unshackled by the whims of your king.”

The offer was a foul one. Galant, the only one who had not been made to cum yet, opened his mouth to refuse. As the team’s leader, his link to notions of Alliance honor and propriety were strongest. “We would never-”

“I’ll do it.” 

Keegan spoke - Keegan, who had liked Jaina most of all - and Galant’s words dropped limply from his mouth. The blonde spy’s young face had hardened and taken on a weathered and hopeless expression. “I don’t care anymore. She’s... she’s just a stupid whore.” His voice was thick with lost innocence. He wiped his mouth against the shoulder of one shackled arm, clearing the vomit from his lips. 

One by one the other men proclaimed their willingness to fuck and degrade Jaina in return for their freedom. Ox, Mariuz and Tyrick echoed Keegan’s sentiment, that Jaina was such a foul, rape-ruined sex toilet that they no longer cared what happened to her - that her whorishness, in fact, was so extreme that it angered them and made them eager to abuse her. Only Galant, the leader, resisted. When all eyes were on him and Sylvanas walked close enough to kiss, if that was what she’d had in mind, his stubborn ideals prevented him from giving in to the Dark Lady.

He had been told that Jaina’s participation in Orath’s rebellion had been because of mind control, and he still believed it. 

“Death first,” he breathed at her, eyes intense. He could feel his own impending doom, he knew Sylvanas could kill him in an instant for his brash refusal. His life began to flash before his eyes; time spent riding his trusted steed Rusher through meadows of bending grass, through dense forest paths, over the hills on a hundred different scouting missions. The sound of the hoof clops seemed almost real-

Galant blinked. It was real. The Dark Rangers had captured their mounts along with them, and Galant assumed his prized horse had been ground down into fertilizer for Forsaken mushroom fields. But there was no mistaking it - the familiar sound of snorting and whinnying was no phantasm but real, and his familiar horse darkened the door of the cell, led in by a stone-faced Dark Ranger with a firm grasp on his leather reins.

“Rusher!” Galant blurted, then looked at Sylvanas. “What foulness do you intend?”

Sylvanas laughed again. “This animal is here for Jaina,” she explained. “Her husband is absent, and she’s been quite lonely!” Jaina’s face lit up as the horse was led into the cell, its muscled body looming large in the confined space. Immediately, a barnyard stink of unwashed equine flesh filled the air. “He’s all yours, Jaina,” Sylvanas offered. “This steed has been run until its mouth was foaming every day since we took it… and it’s never been washed once!”

Jaina swooned as she knee-walked next to the beast and looked at the sweaty sheath hanging beneath its hocks. The stench was so bad, there were flies buzzing around the horse’s fat cockbase and huge leathery balls. “Amazing!” she moaned. “It reminds me of my husband!” She rubbed the horse’s leg affectionately, cooing at it as if it were a lover. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you!”

Galant’s face went wan and pale, all his defiant bluster gone. “N-no,” he croaked. “This… surely you won’t-”

But she would . Jaina moved under the powerful steed, using her hands to lift and cup its huge balls and then bringing them to her mouth coated with sweat, moaning at the stench. Rusher was a muscled and graceful animal, the only ungelded horse among their mounts, with balls like raptor eggs. It wasn’t long before Jaina’s nuzzling and kissing brought the beast’s enormous, heavy cock rampaging from its sheath. As it emerged, it made a slimy sound, and was so coated with smegma that it appeared to be covered in greyish-yellow paste. Jaina’s eyes crossed and rolled back as her nostrils flared, two feet of smegma-loaded horse dick unfurling just inches from her face.

“Now, show your Alliance friends how you take care of a horse’s cock cheese!” Sylvanas ordered, and Jaina immediately craned her neck into action, running the flat of her tongue down the heavy, musky shaft to collect as much of the accumulated grime as possible, her eyes lost in a submissive, worshipful haze. She was every bit the voluptuous and beautiful archmage they remembered, and her naked body was a sight to behold as she serviced the animal - the round buttocks poised as she squatted on the balls of her feet, thighs spread; the graceful muscle of her back, adorned by the trail of her two-colored braid. Her breasts, swollen big enough to be seen even from directly behind her, hanging heavy and pierced and Horde-owned, bouncing enticingly as she slurped and sucked at over two feet of stinking horse shaft. She was everything they’d once desired… but instead of filling their fantasies with the what-if scenario of tenderly bedding her in the frilly chambers of Stormwind Keep, she was squatting like a sex sow, moaning, eye-rolling, drooling, and sucking smegma from a massive horse cock.

“Jaina… you… cock-sucking piece of shit!” Galant sputtered, his head hanging in utter defeat. Her smegma-slurping, ass-licking worthlessness was encroaching even on the noble death he’d envisioned for himself, and his memories of riding free with his favored steed. There seemed to be no escape from her whorishness; even with his eyes closed he could hear her moaning about how she loved cleaning his horse’s smelly cock, that the animal’s dick was so much bigger than theirs, and the only thing in the cell worth fucking. As he observed, she jerked and tit-fucked Rusher’s huge shaft as she cleaned it, filling her mouth to the brim six times with the horse’s lumpy cock filth, swallowing each time until the length of meat was glistening with her spit. She sucked and worshipped and buried her face in the horse’s big balls, too, moaning and inhaling the stink, smothering her features in leathery nutsack.

Only after servicing the beast’s prong for nearly ten minutes did Jaina rise and position herself behind Rusher, her face just inches from his unwashed asshole and taint, where flies were still buzzing. She planted her hands lovingly on his powerful haunched and thrust out her own thick, round ass as she leaned in, tits hanging, to bury her face in the horse’s puffy, steaming asshole.

“Take a message back to your Boy King,” Sylvanas rasped, stepping close to the thoroughly defeated and disillusioned Galant. “Tell him that Jaina is well cared-for - and that she’d rather service a horse’s sweaty shitpipe than ever kiss him again.” As she taunted, she tore one of the cell bars from the entrance, creating sparks with the sheer force of her powers of manipulation, and spiked it into the wall of the enclosure, running side to side - a crossbar for the beast to throw up its forelegs, and positioned only a few feet from the captive men. Galant was too demoralized to object, and, like his fellows, his cock was now shamefully hard.

Slrrrrp. Slrrrrrch. Sloooooorp. Jaina wasn’t just rimming the stallion’s sweaty, bestial ass, she was sucking it, begging for all brain-melting, reeking musk it had to offer. Her stretched-out suckface looked like a feeding tube as Rusher’s greasy, earthy bowels marked her mouth; she drank sweat droplets the size of copper coins straight from the porous, rubbery rim of the horse’s anus. Jaina was in heaven, lost in her own utter degradation, her mind clouded by musk. She rubbed the beast with her hands, sniffing and sucking, begging for him to do it in her face , and moaned orgasmically as her features were blasted repeatedly by dank, sweat-spraying farts.

“This so-called defender of the Alliance is a raped whore who loves the taste of a horse’s shit,” Sylvanas taunted the men, crossing her arms over her breasts in victory. “And now you’ll get to see her enjoy her preferred partner, since your tiny cocks are too small for her!” The men only watched with faces devoid of any pride or resistance, their psyches battered by the whorish truth. Jaina was pulled, eyes-watering, from her place between the muscled haunches of the beast, and made to bend over. Rusher, now fully erect and eager to mate with what he saw as an eager mare, was ushered over behind her, and rose up to place his forelegs on the crossbar. Jaina moaned as two feet of spit-soaked, cum-leaking horse cock slapped on her back and between her buttocks.

“Oh, fuck!” she groaned. “My pussy is going to be totally fucked up!” She saw the way the five men were looking at her and then addressed them viciously. “It’s a good thing someone here has a useful cock!”

“Fuck you, bitch!” Ox cried, unable to resist. The men broke into catcalls of Jaina, giving up any pretense of being dutiful Alliance servants, so disgusted by her that they could no longer bear it. “You cock-sucking piece of shit!”

“Worthless toilet whore!” Mariuz barked. His eyes were blank with his desire to degrade her and punish her for her dishonor.

“I’ll rape you, you bitch,” Keegan seethed. “I’ll rape you and leave you in the gutter!” Any semblance of admiration he’d once had for Jaina was gone.

Jaina only seemed fueled by the heated remarks, and reached up to brace her hands on the crossbar as Rusher pranced and rearranged his hind legs to get the proper angle. If she had any additional taunts to give her would-be monitors, they died in her throat as the flanged head of the stallion’s prong found her soaked, sopping pussy and tore into her, producing a meaty sound as nearly two feet of horse cock tented up her guts, producing a belly-bulge in the shape of a heavy cocktip. The length rampaged in her pussy and womb like an invasive organism, bulging beneath her skin, and her face instantly fell into a state of brainless, cock-dominated bliss. Her eyes rolled and she began to drool, tongue lolling from her mouth, as the stallion humped and thrust his meat into her guts.

Whop. Whop. Whop. Whop. Whop. Whop. Galant hung from his manacles in utter defeat as he watched his prized horse pound into Jaina’s pussy, bouncing her fat, pale buttocks with each brutal impact, causing a stream of pre-cum and lube to splatter down to the stone floor each time the cock was drawn back. Though he had sworn that he would take death over dishonor, this further level of depravity was too much for him to bear, and his cock ejaculated at the sight of Jaina’s guts being stirred up by monster horse cock, spraying out all over her bulging navel, as he cried out about what a whore she was, telling her she was a horse-raped piece of shit , a toilet for cum , and that it would be his pleasure to skull-fuck her to death .

Jaina and Rusher also came, her from the brutal womb-battering sex that she had come to love at the hands of her abomination husband, and Rusher from the loose, squelching, cock-massaging confines of her slutty pussy, which had become much like a mare’s. As with Grundle, Jaina’s belly quickly expanded from a cock-shaped bulge to a rounder one as the stallion’s thick, backed-up semen flooded her insides, ballooning her with rope after rope of horse nut. As she groaned out her orgasm under the abusive insults of the men, it seemed like so much cum was being pumped into her that it would flow out of her mouth.

Sylvanas took it all in. This proved, to her, that Jaina was a great propaganda weapon. She was expected to return the archmage to her people in one week’s time, at a peace summit arranged by Khadgar, ostensibly for the purpose of uniting against a new threat. But the way Jaina had turned even die-hard Alliance loyalists into rape-ready dogs wishing only to defile her… it was all so deliciously nasty! Again, she felt those familiar feelings stirring in her dark loins and could barely prevent herself from fingering her slit then and there, in front of everyone. Again, she reminded herself she was in control.

When Jaina collapsed to the ground, Rusher having disengaged after dumping a massive load into her pussy, she held her bulging belly and looked at the ceiling with an expression of complete satisfaction. A huge creampie spread in a puddle between her legs. The men had precious little humanity remaining - they begged Sylvanas to make good on her deal and give them their lives in exchange for raping Jaina - a task they now all saw as their duty as Alliance soldiers, to regain their honor. Sylvanas instructed the Dark Ranger to remove the stallion from the cell, and once that was done, a wave of her hand and some dark magic was all it took to snap the shackles on the men’s wrists and ankles.

They fell from the walls like corpses, their unkempt hair falling over their faces, and when they looked up at Jaina, Sylvanas confirmed their expressions were not those of soldiers, but rapists, bent on punishing her for dishonoring the Alliance.

“Go to it,” she said. “And win your freedom!” 

They crawled to Jaina and stood around her, cocks achingly erect and ready. The archmage smiled up at them and licked her lips with half-lidded eyes. “Please… rape my throat, pussy and ass!” she begged. “As hard as you want… for as long as you want!”

Sylvanas watched with satisfaction as they fell on her like animals. 

One week later, Sylvanas sat naked on her throne in Grommash Hold, having barred entry to everyone else but a few trusted guards. Chained to the throne, by the neck, was Jaina, who was obediently licking her feet. She found she enjoyed the liberating feeling of keeping her gorgeous, macabre body without clothing, and now languished at all hours of the day in the nude. Saurfang and others seemed to enjoy the business of running the day-to-day affairs of the city; Sylvanas was content to let them.

Her plan to twist the Alliance captives into brutal rapists had worked almost too well. In the end, they defiled Jaina so viciously that, left to their own devices, the leader Galant would have choked her to death, had Sylvanas not intervened and blasted him to ash. As it was, they fucked her within an inch of her life, making up for their relative lack of cock size by drilling her with two and three swarthy cocks in the same hole, stabbing their members in with the intent to feel every slick bump on her monster-raped pussy. They spit on her face until it was a foamy mask, called her every name in the Alliance tongues (and many invented just for the occasion) and thumped her skull with brutal donkey punches as they shoved her face-first into the floor and raped her asshole.

When Sylvanas had bread and water brought in to fuel their flagging bodies, they swilled on water and used their full bladders to defile Jaina with hot loads of piss. More than once, two or even three cocks at a time, they buried themselves balls deep to drop their loads and then stayed inside, grunting contentedly, as they hosed down her guts with waste. They even pressed their spurting pissholes against her nostrils, blowing reeking piss into her sinuses, and ground their erupting slits against her eyeballs, trying to burn her bright blue eyes from her head with torrents of yellow.

It was nearly twelve hours before she was forced to kill Galant; the culmination of the man’s disgust for Jaina was his attempt to perform an honor killing - and her begging him to do it, begging him to choke her out and then piss on her dead face. At first it seemed like masochist play and then it became very real, with Sylvanas stepping in just in time, and leaving the bodies of the remaining participants dusted with black ash.

She had almost missed her chance to intervene, due to her own orgasmic state. The truth was, watching Jaina be defiled by her own people had brought her to a dangerous precipice, allowing her to tease cum after cum out of her tingling pussy with deft fingers (a little-known motto of the Dark Rangers was that nocking an arrow was only one step from rubbing a clit) but also leaving her in a vulnerable state of reverie.

Her mind had gone back to the Rape of Orgrimmar, much as she couldn’t bring herself to fully admit it. The endless cocks. The huge, brutal penises that had stretched her slender pussy. The horses. The rams. The bulls. The tankards of semen she’d been forced to drink, one for each Alliance race! Those experiences, the feelings she had felt, against her will - somehow, Jaina’s mistreatment was a doorway back into hell… one she couldn’t resist.

When it was all said and done, when she sent the last four men scurrying away with their honor broken and their tattered lives flagging in the wind, she was left alone with Jaina in the cell. And as Sylvanas pleasured herself, Jaina crawled, cum-covered and piss-soaked, between her legs, and leaned her face in to start tonguing and licking at Sylvanas’ wet pussy. And Sylvanas, overwhelmed by pleasure, had this time allowed it. 

“Nnngh… fuck!” she’d gasped, burying a dominating hand in Jaina’s tangled, beautiful blonde hair. “Eat my dead cunt, you stupid whore!” At that moment she felt an orgasm building within her that was several times more powerful than any she’d experienced with just her own hands. The feeling of that hot tongue, the tongue of a rival and enemy, licking her slit… it was… was…

She looked down at Jaina in the final moment, and saw, once again, those mischievous and satisfied eyes. Eyes that said I see your true nature, we are two of a kind. Come have pleasure with me. You can fuck my husband too, we can both fuck him-

Sylvanas had shoved Jaina away, cursing her, ruining the impending orgasm. And in her anger and alarm at being made to feel out of control, and a slave to the events of her past… she’d nearly killed Jaina herself.

Now, sitting nude and having Jaina lick her feet, she felt more grounded, safer. She felt in control . She intended to convince Anduin to leave Jaina in Horde custody… but not because Sylvanas needed it for some sexual reason, no, of course not. Purely as a war prize the Horde deserved, Purely for the honor of the people she represented. She convinced herself more and more of this every passing minute. 

Dark Ranger Thyala, one  of few permitted to enter Grommash Hold, approached and knelt curly. The thudding footsteps behind her signaled an important return, and Jaina’s eyes perked up with enthusiasm as Grundle strode into the chamber in his usual dumb and oblivious way. 

“Oh, my wonderful husband!” Jaina cooed. Dark Ranger Thyala’s face was slightly dour, as the unbelievable stench coming from the abomination was making her dizzy. She swallowed thickly and gave her report, though the foul contents of her words made her wan complexion blush.

“My lady,” Thyala began. “As you ordered, this abomination has… has been augmented. “The agents of the rebuilt Apothecarium have added… added two larger, heavier testicles to his sack. They assure me that… nnngh… these will produce a huge amount of disfigured, dead sperm that is nearly solid in consistency.” She took in a breath, obviously embarrassed to be giving such a report. “In addition… per your instructions… his sweat glands have been stimulated, and he has not been washed.”

“Excellent,” Sylvanas said, in her darkly melodic way, looking gorgeous sprawled on her throne, legs up on one arm. She examined Grundle with pride and noticed that not only were the amount of insects buzzing around his body increased, and the air was nearly shimmering with his stench, his nutsack was hanging even more heavily than before, almost all the way to the floor. “You are dismissed.”

Thyala started to move, then hesitated, before steeling her courage. “My lady… should you not be preparing for the Alliance peace summit, as Lord Saurfang contends, rather than… than preoccupying yourself with matters like these-”

“Impudent whelp!” Sylvanas barked. “You dare to question how I rule the Horde? Be gone, before I have you executed.” Her eyes flashed and dark power began to coruscate around her hands.

“N-no, my lady!” Thyala gasped, and turned quickly to remove herself from the chamber. Sylvanas watched her go, her face dour.

“So, these disloyal dogs continue to bark,” she mused. She was due to travel to Stormwind with her retinue and present Jaina back to the Alliance in just one day. Her face resolved, she rose from her throne and looked down at the hopeful Jaina. “Give your husband a tongue bath, every part of his body,” she ordered, watching as her slave’s eyes started to glow with delight. “Especially his ass, balls, foreskin, and underarms. I want to see him spotless when I return. I have other business.”

She strode away, dropping Jaina’s leash, and, deliriously happy, the human archmage crawled over to her abomination husband. “Don’t worry, my love!” she moaned. “I’ll clean all the cheese from your huge, smelly cock!”

Sylvanas, meanwhile, re-donned her armor - it was a simple matter of going incorporeal and reconstituting herself inside it - and strode from Grommash Hold. She had plans, and none of those plans involved handing Jaina freely over to the Alliance - or bending to disloyal scum in her own faction.

“She’s mine,” seethed the Dark Lady, walking with purpose. “Mine.”

In a day, they would all see.

Chapter Text

“Only you would pick this place for a meeting,” Anduin said, his eyes obscured by a hooded cloak. It was a ruse he’d used before when trying to move about undetected, and a secret one-on-one summit with the leader of the Alliance’s longtime enemy called for a certain amount of secrecy. 

Especially in a haunted place like the ruins of Theramore. The crumbling battlements and low arcane hum emanating from the purple-scarred crater gave Anduin the creeps. Which, he realized, was probably why Sylvanas chose it. 

Her smile answered this question, without him having to ask it. Sylvanas, too, was wearing a hooded cloak, though such things were far more in her usual line. She stood still, no weapons drawn, about twenty feet distant, but Anduin still had his tome and sword at the ready. If killing him was what she had in mind, he wasn’t going to make it easy on her. He hoped it would not come to that. The peace in Azeroth was fragile in the wake of Orath’s atrocities - and the complicity of every major leader in them. He himself had raped Sylvanas in front of the gates of Orgrimmar; it had been to satisfy Horde honor in the wake of the cease fire that Jaina had been given to them to mete out punishment.

The time that Jaina was to be returned to the Alliance was fast approaching - only a week distant - and that, according to the message, was what the Banshee Queen wanted to talk about.

“I think it’s rather fitting,” Sylvanas said. Her voice had a dark melodic echo that Anduin had always found unnerving - as if her words were carried on the wind by valkyr calling horns. “The place of greatest animosity between Horde and Alliance, repurposed toward a new beginning.”

“And why did you want to talk?” Anduin asked. He didn’t believe for even one second that Sylvanas had any interest in peace. He thought peace would have to be thrown upon her like a yoke - and letting her save face by subjecting Jaina to humiliation was a necessary evil to that end.

“I want to keep Jaina Proudmoore,” Sylvanas said, matter-of-factly. “She has become a symbol of reinvigorated Horde pride. For peace to last, we must feel like we have gotten satisfaction.”

“That wasn’t the deal.”

“I know. But circumstances have changed.”

She’s lying , Anduin thought. She has some personal reason, some plan.

“The days of Orath are behind us,” Anduin said, drawing on thoughts he had been pondering for weeks, putting them into words. “No longer should the strength of the Horde or Alliance be demonstrated with rape, humiliation, and defilement.” He paused, thinking about how Jaina had manipulated him into becoming a figurehead puppet leader, participating in all the atrocities, by shoving her huge tits and thick ass in his face. His cock twitched, but he moved on. “We have more honor than to use women like bargaining chips, just to satisfy the worst and basest of our numbers.”

Sylvanas’ eyes narrowed - easy to detect considering their unnatural red glow. “You want her for yourself,” she spat. “All those empty words because you want to fuck her fat ass!”

“This is beneath you,” Anduin said, surprised that she had become so flustered so quickly. And also at the hint of jealousy he detected. “Beneath all of us. Or… maybe it’s you, who can’t let her go?”

Sylvanas snorted and seethed through her teeth. “Ha! No. She means nothing to me. I will return her to you. I only thought this concession might prevent further bloodshed - but I see that Alliance pride and foolishness are as plentiful as ever. Risking this peace over one stupid, raped whore!”

You’re doing the same thing , Anduin thought, but of course he did not say it. Instead, he turned and made to leave, leaving one parting remark. “I’ll see you in one week. See that Jaina is unharmed.”

Sylvanas spat on the arcane-scarred ground of Theramore as she watched Anduin depart. Imagine! For him to insinuate she had any affection for that blonde, abomination-fucked whore! He was just like so many she had encountered of late - whispering about how she wasn’t herself, how some fundamental change had overtaken her. Even among the closest ranks of her Dark Rangers, whispering had taken hold - a cancer she’d had to personally eliminate… and repurpose.

“She means nothing to me,” she whispered to herself. Testing the truth of her own words. The droning arcane hum of Theramore stole them away, and she, too, turned to leave.

When Sylvanas returned to Grommash Hold, she heard the occupants of the main chamber even before turning the corner. 

Slurp. Slrrrrk. Slllrrrp. Slurrrrp. 

Grundle the Abomination, freshly outfitted with his two new, tumorous testicles, was standing and being attended to by his ‘wife’, Jaina Proudmoore. The white-streaked blonde looked deliriously happy to be kneeling behind the corpulent monster, pulling apart his flabby butt cheeks, and burying her face in his flyblown, filthy shitter. His flab poured between her fingers as she spread him to get better access to his greyish-green turd ring, burying her tongue inside it, licking out the walls of his greasy bowels.

The degrading sight was nearly enough to make Sylvanas cream through the crotch of her leather-and-chainmail leggings. Give this up? Watching her mortal enemy - the architect of her two-weeks-long rape, mind broken and licking an abomination’s asshole? She felt a quiver in her banshee loins and gritted her teeth in anger. She cursed Anduin for not agreeing to leave Jaina with her, but much of the anger came from the simple fact that it should have been easy to let Jaina go… but wasn’t .

She hated feeling vulnerable and out of control. And that made her very angry, and very sadistic.

Sylvanas walked over to where Jaina was enthusiastically rimming Grundle. The abomination’s massive, augmented cock hung all the way to the floor, coiling up on itself like a fleshy log, leaking a trail of yellowish semen. Sylvanas had tasked Jaina with cleaning Grundle completely while she met with Anduin, and she was pleased to see that the huge coating of cock cheese that had once ringed Grundle’s glans was totally gone - Jaina had cleaned up every bit!

Grundle made a happy, grunting noise and ripped a nasty, degrading fart directly into Jaina’s face, making her groan and press her nostrils directly into the puffy rim of his shitter, inhaling greasy globules of sweat. “Nnngh! I love it when you fart in my face, my amazing husband!” Jaina moaned, brainlessly, before burrowing her tongue deep inside. Grundle, being an animated construct of flesh, did not have a working digestive system - but the mishmash of flesh parts in various stages of decay made for an unbelievable stink.

“That’s where you belong,” Sylvanas spat, moving to stand next to Jaina and look down at her. Jaina was naked except for an azure thong and a corset that was little more than a shelf for her large, round breasts. She had her hair in a long braid. “Eating abomination ass. Kissing your monster husband’s anus!” She kicked out with a heeled boot and struck Jaina in the ribs. Lady Proudmoore, accustomed by that point to every form of rebuke and abuse, only moaned with pleasure at the impact.

“Yes, mistress! I love licking ass and cleaning my husband’s smelly, filthy monster cock!” She lowered down to a position of worship, arching her back and pressing her face to the floor. Her round, bubbly, thick buttocks swallowed her thong completely - even showing off her pink, inviting anus. Her breasts piled against the floor in hemispherical drifts.

“You’re nothing but an Alliance sow!” Sylvanas spat. “Show me you’ve completed the task I asked you to perform!”

“Yes!” Jaina said, and immediately crawled around to Grundle’s front. The abominated, which possessed only rudimentary intelligence, gave a crooked smile as two beautiful women bustled with activity around his rotund midsection. Jaina hefted his massive, flopping hose of a cock with two hands, allowing Sylvanas to inspect it, even planting a wet kiss on his bulbous cock knob. “Look,” Jaina said. “I’ve licked every bit of cock cheese off this huge, smelly dick! I even sucked all the old, rotten sperm out of his urethra… but he just keeps producing more!”

“Grundle cum lots!” Grundle growled, and there was a wet, churning sound as a burst of yellowish grey semen splattered out his pisspipe and buried Jaina’s face in a fat cobweb, requiring to lick her way out. Sylvanas watched with satisfaction as Jaina consumed every drop of the ultra-filthy cum, getting hornier by the second. There was no limit to her desire for vengeance - treaties may have prevented her from killing Jaina, but nothing could stop her from degrading her mortal enemy completely! It was Jaina, after all, who had raped her with a massive ice dildo in front of the gates of Orgrimmar!

Sylvanas doffed portions of her armor as Jaina sucked dick - an easy task when one can become incorporeal - approaching again only to grab her adversary by the hair. “It pleases me to see you learning your place, licking Horde boots,” she taunted, feeling particularly vicious in light of Anduin’s refusal. If Jaina was to be returned, Sylvanas wanted to use her thoroughly, leaving no shred of dignity behind. “What do you think of your boy-toy king, compared to this big, fat, abomination cock?”

“Mmm…” Jaina moaned, and slid her tongue into Grundle’s pisshole again, lugging out clumps of disfigured sperm. “Grundle is so much better than any man in the Alliance!” she moaned, planting a worshipful kiss on his cocktip. 

“I should have you be raped in front of your former allies, as you did to me!” Sylvanas seethed, and booted Jaina’s ribs again. “Let them all see how much you enjoy sucking Grundle’s cock! Every one of those Alliance fags can jerk their worm dicks, watching your pussy and asshole get ripped apart!” Sylvanas’ voice became more vicious as she imagined what the scene would be like. Jaina, nude, subjected to days, weeks of abomination rape as Anduin, Genn and the rest of the Alliance scum were forced to watch! If there were any justice in Azeroth, she would be permitted to unleash vengeance on Jaina that would make her rape at Orgrimmar seem like nothing more than a chaste kiss!

“Nnngh… yes!” Jaina moaned, rubbing her thighs together. “Rape me right in front of Anduin! Sit on my face and let me drink your piss while he watches!”

Sylvanas made a hissing noise. The idea was turning her on. A lot. She let her mind wander as she fingered herself, lording over Jaina, who was still jerking and sucking Grundle’s dick. “I’d take you to Theramore… the ruins…” she purred. “And those fallen that remain, I’d turn them into Forsaken… right in front of you!”

Jaina cried out with submissive, masochistic arousal. Theramore had been a sacred cause to her - prior to the Rape of Teldrassil by the Kil’Kron, it had been the great exemplar of Horde war crimes, turning her from a forward-looking and bright-hearted mage to a cold and vengeful ice bitch. Now, Sylvanas was pleased (and horny) to see that Jaina had been so broken by her constant degradation that she was getting off on the idea of Theramore’s victims being raised as undead.

“I’d walk you in front of them on a leash and let you suck every one of their undead cocks!” Sylvanas growled, and thrust her boot against the puffy folds of Jaina’s pussy, drawing a moan. “Every man, woman and child that was incinerated that day would get to fuck you like a whore, you stupid cunt!” Sylvanas was in a frenzy, no longer able to hide her arousal, her pussy just inches from Jaina’s face.

“Nnngh!” gasped the former archmage, her eyes going unfocused as her huge breasts rose and fell with breathy arousal. “Yes! I’ll suck their fucking dead dicks!” she gasped. “I’ll let them take their vengeance on my stupid whore ass!”

“Yes, you disgraced piece of shit!” Sylvanas hissed, and didn’t pull away when Jaina leaned in and started to lap at her hairless, purple-skinned pussy, digging that agile tongue inside, using it to flick the nub of her clit. “Get your traitorous tongue up my wet cunt!” She mashed her puffy, wet pudenda on Jaina’s face, making the velvety flesh of her pubis compress and slide over her features in dominating fashion. She couldn’t help but press her weight down on Jaina, swinging a leg over and using her face as a seat, getting unbelievably turned on. Her mind went back to that time in front of the gates of Orgrimmar - being raped, degraded, humiliated for days on end. Fucked by an ice dildo and made to drink Jaina’s piss; body altered by gnomish science to be a worthless tit-sow, mind-broken to utter obedience! And yet, in spite of her mistreatment, having orgasm, after orgasm, after soul-snuffing orgasm!

“Nnnngh!” Sylvanas moaned, her knees trembling as she came with Jaina’s tongue buried in her pussy. It took only a moment before she fell to her knees, bringing face to face with Jaina, and then forward into her embrace.

“Mmm… we’re such… raped… whores…” Jaina panted. “I love being raped, don’t you?” And the defiance within Sylvanas which compelled her to say of course not, you dumb Alliance cunt, I could never be like you, or Tyrande, or any of the cum dump Alliance rape trash, I hated every moment of my violation, how dare you suggest otherwise - remained perplexingly silent. Instead, Jaina pressed her hot lips against Sylvanas’ cool ones and they shared a lewd kiss, swapping spit. Sylvanas felt chunks of Grundle’s cock cheese snowballing between Jaina’s mouth, but her arousal was such an out of control wave that she didn’t care. It was just more of a return to the gates of Orgrimmar, where she had been forced to clean hundreds, thousands of unwashed Alliance cocks!

Any warm-blooded male from Azeroth would have paid all of his gold pieces just to see the hot makeout session between the foremost women of the Alliance and Horde. Jaina peeled away Sylvanas’ armor until her breasts were exposed - deflated from their humiliating Gelbin-augmented state but still larger than before - and their chests pressed against each other, nipples rubbing, as they continued their makeout session.

A shadow shortly loomed over them, along with a grumbling exclamation of horniness. Grundle, though not technically warm-blooded, wasn’t immune to a little visual stimulation! “Grundle fuck!” he cried, and then reached down and gripped Sylvanas by her wasp-thin waist, holding her out in position to insert his penis into her dripping pussy.

Sylvanas looked back, addled by arousal, exhaling in flustered breaths. “Stop! Take your hands off me, stupid oaf! She’s the one you’re supposed to fuck!” She gestured toward Jaina, but Grundle wasn’t exactly the discerning type, and none-too-bright as well, so her complaints were to no avail. The abomination’s massive penis, the stitched-together erectile tissues now stiffened, pressed against her pussy. Sylvanas cried out and her red, glowing eyes flashed. Grundle shoved, and at first his penis was unable to penetrate her tight banshee slit, only bending and bowing like a stressed piece of timber.

“Stupid abomination!” Sylvanas wailed, grunting as her slit was assaulted by the enormous knob of a penis that was well over two feet long. “Unhand me!”

“GRUNDLE FUCK!” Grundle cried, and Jaina looked on with something like pride at the sexual prowess of her husband, reaching under to grope his testicle-stuffed, low-hanging sack. With a great schloorp noise, his cock, glistening with Jaina’s spit, speared into Sylvanas’ pussy with gut-churning force, instantly making a prick-shaped bulge appear in her tiny, taut belly. Wetness from her pussy pattered down on the hide rugs that lay on the floor of the main chamber, and her eyes rolled back as Grundle began to drag her petite body forward and back on his monstrous prick.

“Yes!” Jaina moaned, urging Grundle on. “You’re so amazing, my husband!” She leaned under to extend her tongue and lick the bottom of Grundle’s shaft, at the point where it was entering and stretching Sylvanas pussy. Her wet tongue teased the taut labia of her rival, and traced the brutal stitch marks and urethral bulge of her ‘husband’.

“You… dumb beast!” Sylvanas groaned. “You’re… fucking up my pussy!” She could say no more as Grundle’s monster cock drove the wind from her body, stirring up her guts and reshaping her infertile banshee womb into an abomination cock sleeve.

“WHORE TIGHT!” Grundle said, and Sylvanas legs and arms started flopping around in a state of overwhelmed cock-defeat as his enormous pipe cored out her cunt, pressing her midsection into such a bulge that her navel was pushed up to the level of her breasts. “GRUNDLE CUM!”

Jaina gasped with arousal, pressing her face into Grundle’s sweaty, smelly nuts, licking the many furrows on his uneven sack. From within, the sound of disfigured, dead abomination sperm could be heard as his over-active tasticles produced it in great amounts. The skin of his sack fluttered as fat curds of sperm filled it, making it heavy and hanging. “Nnngh!” Jaina moaned. “It stinks so bad I can smell it through his sack! I only cleaned him while you were gone - he didn’t cum yet! So he has a nice big, backed-up load for you!”

“No!” Sylvanas gasped, still being dragged up and down the jutting, piecemeal shaft. The greyish-green skin contrasted with the purple-engorged flaps of her widely-stretched cunt, and wetness continued to slop down to the floor. Much as she protested, her body was responding to the intense abomination rape! It was impossible for her not to recall what had happened before, when she had been subdued, humiliated, and hundreds of mounts had used her pussy until it was a stretched and prolapsed ruin - everything from horses to the great lizards of Zandalar! Grundle’s penis wasn’t quite as large as those cunt-wrecking dinosaur cocks, but it was still massive, and only her supernatural banshee resilience would allow her pussy to avoid permanent ruin.

“Get that filthy thing… out of… my… pussy!” Sylvanas gasped, but Grundle only responded by jamming it in as far as it would go, stretching her belly out into a cock-sleeve shape even more brutally than before. Sylvanas eyes went blank - or as blank as glowing red could go - and became unfocused. Jaina moaned and kissed Grundle’s nuts as his cockbase bulged and a huge wave of semen was forced out of his sack, down his swollen urethra, and into the depth of Sylvanas’ womb. This sacred place, which might have born a life once if not for her defeat at the hands of Prince Arthas, was clinging to his bulbous cocktip like a wet rag, and instantly inflated to a grotesque size as the nasty, chunky cum blast blew out of Grundle’s pisshole in jelly-thick ropes. 

Splurrrrrrrrrrrrgg! Sylvanas hardly looked like much of a leader with her once-trim midsection expanded out to a slovenly, sloshing cum belly. Jaina cooed and moved her mouth to start kissing and licking Sylvanas’ bloat, licking worshipfully. “So much!” she purred. “My husband is so amazing!” Her eyes were as blank as Sylvanas’, the once-proud archmage reduced to worshiping the body of a fat, smelly monster. And now, it seemed, she had a partner in her task, as Sylvanas’ tongue lolled out of her mouth and she was ragdolled by Grundle, who was still ejaculating inside her with regular, nasty-sounding bursts of backed-up semen. The yellowish slop overflowed Sylvanas’ pussy and splattered down in thick curds, staining the floor, but still Grundle kept pumping diseased, dead, dignity-snuffing sperm into her defiled cunt!

It was nearly five full minutes later when Grundle’s overfilled, magic-enhanced balls ceased their cum production. He simply stood with Sylvanas impaled on his cock, her limbs hanging down limply, face blank, until she slowly and wetly slid off his softening shaft and splattered face-down into a puddle of yellowish nut slop. Weakly, she turned over to reduce pressure on her belly… but it was too late. With a gurgling sound, a huge burst of densely-packed semen blew out of her gaping slit and fanned out on the floor in a lumpy mess. Most humiliating, Sylvanas shuddered to orgasm from the heavy, gelatinous nut trash abrading her raped cunt on the way out. This lasted for nearly a further minute, until her belly had reduced in size from the outflow of sperm leaving her womb. Only afterward did she weakly collapse.

Sylvanas shuddered on the floor. She had come nearly half a dozen times from Grundle’s massive, leg-thick cock stirring up her guts. And two further times just from being defiled by all of his semen. She hadn’t cum that hard, or that often since… since…

Since her rape at the gates of Orgrimmar.

Her eyes flickered open. She saw Grundle, standing cluelessly, and Jaina leaning against his leg, her round hip on the floor. Most importantly, she saw Jaina’s expression. A look of knowing, smirking intelligence that seemed far more like the scheming archmage of the past than someone who had been completely mind-broken. It was a look that said see, you’re still the same raped whore you were after Orgrimmar, when we gangbanged you for weeks and made you drink gallons of cum and piss. Jaina had been humiliated, defeated, captured… but the scheming bitch was trying to drag Sylvanas down to depravity with her!

Sylvanas’ eyes flashed. “You bitch!” she seethed, and raised a hand. Unlike Jaina, whose powers had been suppressed by an Azerite choker, Sylvanas was still a being of unbelievable magical strength. Her hand extended, her fingers took on a claw shape, and dark energy coruscated in her palm. She was seconds away from simply blasting Jaina, scorching her with dark magic and leaving her for dead. “You bitch !”

Jaina’s eye widened. She had overplayed her hand, that much was for sure. But perhaps because of the implications of Jaina’s death - the destruction of peace with the Alliance, a return to the same tit-for-tat cycle of atrocity and rape that had put Azeroth to the torch - the Banshee Queen changed her aim at the last moment, directing her dark energies not at Jaina, but at Grundle.

There was an explosion. Jaina was thrown to the side and the air was filled with smoke and dark tendrils of shadow energy. The impact shook dust from the venerable trappings of Grommash Hold, even blowing a wave around the walls and out the front door. The fire was extinguished, and it took several moments for the air to clear. 

“Grundle!” Jaina wailed. Sylvanas smiled viciously. Where Grundle had once stood, only the singed remains of two tree-trunk legs remained. From the knees up, Grundle had been reduced to ash. And from the tears streaking her cheeks, Sylvanas could tell that Jaina wasn’t pretending or playing. She had been mind-broken enough to feel true affection for the abomination that had raped her cunt, ass and throat every day, filling her with nasty sperm until she was nothing more than a bloated cum tank. The thought gave Sylvanas some comfort, and she rose to her feet.

“Look at you,” she spat at Jaina. “Trying to manipulate me - when you’d cum just from licking a monster’s asshole!” She threw back and laughed cruelly. The utter depravity of it, the beautiful white-streaked blonde archmage mourning an abomination that had fucked her face every day with a two-foot cock and made her clean every speck of cock-cheese from its filthy glans, seemed to energize her. “You’ll pay for this, you piece of shit!”

“You fucking rape ditch,” Jaina spat back, viciously, the last of her hidden strength showing itself. “We used you as a toilet for weeks. You drank my piss, you whore! Nothing can ever change that! You’re the most raped, degraded toilet in the history of Azeroth!” She gritted her teeth. “Kill me if you want, but we’re the same. Rape whores. Toilets. We drink cum . We clean cocks . You’re no different than me! You can’t fool me, you were cumming your brains out when Genn and Orath ripped apart your asshole!”

Sylvanas slowly walked over, a spider sizing up her prey. Jaina was still subdued, and she could do as she liked. “I’m not going to kill you,” she purred. “I’m to return you to the Alliance soon… and that’s just what I intend to do.” 

Her vicious smile indicated that Jaina’s return would not be a dignified one.

The Undercity had seen war during Orath’s conquest, but conventional war - a siege by hybrid forces, with a strategic retreat and scorched earth defense by the forces of the Horde, resulting in a city very much abandoned. Even if none of the major sexual atrocities of the war had happened there, it was nonetheless a ruin - but a familiar one to Sylvanas. And not as abandoned as most had been led to believe.

Deep inside, with the help of the Royal Apothecary Society, Sylvanas had engaged in a campaign of ‘re-education’ for those Dark Rangers who had proven disloyal. Painstakingly, she weeded out servants who whispered about her unfitness to rule, her growing insanity, and the idea that her rape at Orgrimmar had forever changed her. These Dark Rangers were taken away to the Apothacerium, never to be seen again.

Now, Sylvanas took Jaina there - to a deep and circular chamber in the depths of the Undercity. Blindfolded, handcuffed and subdued, the archmage of the Kirin Tor had no choice but to follow as Sylvanas led her on a leash, surrounded by her remaining loyalists.

“I only have one week left with you,” she purred at Jaina, looking back over her shoulder and watching the pale, matronly mage’s huge tits wobble and her hips wiggle with each stride. “So I intend to make it count. The Alliance will be made to feel the dishonor they brought to our gates.”

“What can you possibly do to me,” Jaina croaked, “that you haven’t already done?” She was sickened by Grundle’s death, and further sickened by the deep need she felt as a result - she had been humiliated and raped so completely that she was actually mourning the loss of abomination dick. Her need to clean the cock cheese from Grundle’s filthy, smelly penis every day was burning in her loins, and that, itself, was the unkindest and most degrading cut of all.

Sylvanas only laughed at her question as they arrived in the chamber, which was dark enough to obscure the outer walls. Jaina could hear scrabbling claws and growling noises, emanating from the impenetrable darkness, and tried to hold back as Sylvanas tugged on her leash… but of course, she had no choice. She was yanked forward onto all fours, her big tits hanging nearly to the ground, her round ass cheeks jiggling. Sylvanas pulled her along, making her crawl over the green tinged, dank stone.

“I will not be the one to break your infernal peace treaty,” Sylvanas spat. “I will not give Alliance hypocrites the chance to make me a villain and justify themselves.” More growls from the darkness, more darting, half-seen forms. “So I have not taken Gilneans. None of Genn’s cursed kind, do you understand?” She smiled. “But there are other worgen than the Gilneans, worgen who are not Alliance, and have carried the curse longer.” Her mouth twisted into a smile. “The most feral, brutal alphas of Silverpine.”

A lantern flared alight, then another, then another. At equidistant points along the outside of the room, lanterns illuminated the periphery, revealing humanoid figures. Jaina was so sure she was going to see worgen that she flinched. But instead, she saw something that promised even greater trials. Worgen corpses on examination tables, worgen corpses in meat wagons. And at each lantern point, one of Sylvanas’ male dark rangers, eyes and mouth bound by leather straps, their muscled undead bodies naked in grey, green and purple… and their crotches enhanced, augmented, mutilated with huge, knotted, undead worgen cocks!

“No!” Jaina gasped. She was staring straight at a grotesque, massive canine cock. It wasn’t the red color of a live worgen, but rather a bruised purple and grey, the mark of Forsaken corpse alchemy. It hung enormous. Twenty inches at least, with a pair of sparsely-furred undead worgen bollocks hanging down beneath. The tip seemed wickely narrow, perfect for prying deep into her holes, and the middle of the shaft was body-breakingly thick. Even Grundle, physically larger, had not been so thick. It tapered slightly thinner near the base, but flush against the pubis of each enhanced Dark Ranger, the most devastating piece of worgen anatomy was present - the place where, in the throes of orgasm, the bestial knot would expand to hole-destroying, body-breaking girth.

The Dark Ranger seemed to exhale into his X-shaped facemask as she looked at him, and a huge sluice of greyish-yellow sperm poured out of his dick-slit like piss, soaking the stone beneath. Just the sight of her voluptuous body had caused the ultra-virile worgen cocks to overflow with sperm. And from the color and consistency, Jaina knew that these amputated, undead worgen balls were pumping out disfigured sperm that would utterly defile her holes. 

“There are twelve of them in all,” Sylvanas purred, yanking Jaina’s leash and pulling her to the exact center of the room. “Some had taken… issue … with my leadership. But I have use even for the disloyal.” She knelt down next to Jaina, who looked up with obvious apprehension. “You did well with Grundle - I didn’t think a human woman could service an abomination without her body giving out. So now we’ll see how you can handle these, my new elite Dark Rangers. Their strength and stamina have been enhanced, and their testicles augmented to produce nearly limitless amounts of semen.”

She reached out and slapped Jaina’s ass. “One week. And then I’ll return you to the Alliance. I know you were hiding your true nature from me - much as you enjoyed Grundle’s cock, you were scheming to drag me down with you. Did you think I wouldn’t take revenge?”

Jaina’s eyes were pleading. “Please. My body nearly broke from my hus… from the abomination.” She swallowed thickly. “But a full week-”

“Recall what was done to me at Orgrimmar,” Sylvanas purred, and then rose. “Remember it well in the coming days.” Her heels made clacking noises on the stone as she dropped the leash and walked away. Jaina looked around as the twelve Dark Rangers, naked, their brutal dog cocks banging against the insides of their thighs and knees, leaking trails of cum like it was piss. 

Sylvanas’ banshee laugh echoed in the Undercity chamber as the enhanced rangers surrounded Jaina, casting long shadows on her pale flesh. On all fours and vulnerable, she was accosted by three or four pairs of supernaturally-strong hands. Jaina groaned as her thick, round ass cheeks were spread lewdly, revealing her abomination-tenderized asshole, a glistening and inviting pink pucker that looked ready and willing to take any amount of dick. She felt the drizzle of hot, filthy dog cum splashing her ass mounds, hands groping her hanging tits, and soon her head was being controlled and her mouth pressed against the purple, bruised, tapered tip of an undead worgen cock.

Syrupy canine sperm sprayed over her lips and she gasped. “Nnngh! It stinks!” she moaned, her shapely lips being painted to a glisten by a constant stream of gooey cum that carried the musky scent of worgen mixed with the foulness of the undead. She felt her body trembling with arousal and need, and her shoulders slumped as she realized that weeks of being married to Grundle had conditioned her to crave and consume the filthiest, nastiest cumloads out of the lowest-hanging undead nutsacks. She was a total whore for nasty, Forsaken cock!

The rangers wasted no time in making use of her unwilling holes, which were slick with arousal despite her desire to resist and maintain some shred of dignity. The tapered purple tip of a worgen pipe pried her lips open like a crowbar and made her jaw creak as the thickening shaft invaded her mouth, flattening her tongue, making her throat bulge. Lumpy dogsperm burst from her nose and her eyes rolled back as her throat gagged and swallowed inch after inch of throbbing cock. There was a creak as her jaw stretched and nearly dislocated at the fattest part of the length. The ranger started to fuck her face brutally, wearing her throat out and stretching her lips open, banging his sitched-up pelvis against her nose with wet, cum-strand-latticed smacks. Jaina gurgled and heaved, spraying out jizz in watery bursts around the nasty, dead dick.

One ranger laid on the ground, his cock looking as fit and tapered as a Goblin Zeppelin, eighteen inches at least. The others positioned Jaina to squat down on it, the sperm spraying all over her wet pussy mound seemed searing. The virility of these new creations was considerable; they never seemed to stop leaking cum, and when aroused, the excess semen sprayed all over Jaina as if they were pissing! It was one such pissing, sperm-splattering cock that pried apart her fat cunt mound and tore into her slit, dilating her hole until her outer labia were stretched to the point of tearing. Jaina cried out. She had taken Grundle’s huge cock, but the massive, swollen middle of the vein-choked worgen cocks surpassed even his abomination prong in sheer circumference.

Jaina cried out and threw her head back as the brutal, oblong shape scythed into her soaking cunt, the tapered tip instantly pressing to her womb and violating it, filling her guts with the white heat of that pissing, syrupy dogsperm. She squirted all over the cock as it filled her, slickening the pulsating shaft. Beneath the purple surface, vessels throbbed, supply undead ichor - not red blood - to the unnatural erection. 

The dark ranger pumping her throat withdrew and let his foul nectar coat her face, spraying it out over her features like an alpha marking his territory, not a true orgasm but just the excess nut leaking from his accursed balls. Jaina sputtered and blew sperm bubbles. “It’s… tearing apart my pussy!” she groaned, and her head went down to her own belly, feeling the pole-like protrusion there. She had felt it many times when Grundle would lift and use her like a doll; but this cock would surely not be the last, and her body was already being pressed to the limit.

She could say no more, as the cock was shoved back down her throat. A third dark ranger mounted her from above, aiming his colossal dog prick at her twitching, well-used anus. Despite Grundle’s rampant fucking of her ass the prior weeks, her rim was as blushing and inviting as ever, fading from her pale and flawless skin color to a blushing pink that was slightly raised and puffy. She felt it instantly when the sharp tip of the worgen cock nudged at her backdoor… and then tore into her bowels, without so much as a care for her comfort or well-being. Even worse, her well-trained, well-defiled body sent a wave of crackling, painful pleasure through her that made her gag and moan.

Jaina Proudmoore, former pinnacle of the Alliance leadership, was being torn apart by monster worgen cock in all three holes! The bestiality and single-finded fuckery of Sylvanas’ ‘re-educated’ dark rangers only added to the disgrace of the scene as they wore out every one of her orifices with long, muscular strokes from their brutal cocks. Drool sprayed from her mouth and cum cascaded down from her pussy and ass. When the rangers withdrew for even a moment, her slit and anus were left gaping humiliatingly, spasming and seeming to ask for more cock, their interior channels visible, throbbing and flooded with fat clumps of greyish-yellow cum. Even her womb was visible in her violated depths!

Jaina was ragdolled for hours by her first three suitors, eventually abandoning all reason and using her hands to stroke and encourage them, before her strength left her entirely and they simply fucked and pummeled their hole-wrecking cocks into her inert body, ejaculating every few minutes and sending splattery, nasty creampies of twisted sperm flushing back out of her holes. Those three were replaced by three others, who were replaced by three others, who were replaced by three others, and the violation of Jaina Proudmoore continued.

During this time, Jaina existed in a world of constant rape. Even when she had been put in the stocks and fucked in front of Grommash Hold, she had been permitted time to recover a little between each humiliating violation - Thrall, Saurfang, others. This was undead, inhuman, somewhere between fucking animals and the dead. Grundle, for all grotesque physical characteristics, had been almost friendly by comparison.

And then there were the knots . Their final, ball-emptying orgasms caused their canine knots of the implanted worgen cocks to bulge and expand, even thicker than the girthiest parts of their shafts. Jaina experienced soul-shredding orgasms as her holes were shredded, stretching her cunt and asshole in ways that she would never recover from. Even her mouth was knotted, wrenching her jaw into a banshee gaping, humiliating expression that would have rivaled Sylvanas’ most terrifying wails. Each cock remained linked to her, too wide to be removed, while huge blasts of semen were ejaculated into her stomach, womb, and bowels. The cocks, virile as she’d feared, seemed never to run dry of the filthy, clumpy dogsperm, filling her body for minutes on end.

There was not a moment in Jaina’s first twenty-hour hours that she wasn’t being raped by monstrously huge worgen cocks. For sustenance she received only semen, and when the dark rangers needed to relieve themselves, they sprayed heavy streams of hot alpha piss all over her tits, her round, bulging buttocks, and her face. Sometimes they held up her barely-conscious head and directed their streams up her nose, into her blank eye sockets, and down her throat. Some who remained knotted long enough pissed directly into her ass, leaving her to squat like a sow and void the huge pissloads all over the stone… after which she would be raped again.

Eventually, all hint of Jaina’s personality, any vestige of trying to manipulate or resist, was gone. She was simply a husk, being filled with sperm until her belly was swollen, then having her sordid cum belly squeezed and punched until she vomited, queefed, or shit the heavy cum loads out… a process that always caused her to orgasm helplessly. Every erogenous zone in her body became gradually conditioned to enjoy her violation, which was endless. She could barely be seen in the humping, thrusting pile of muscled rangers and cum-leaking wolf cocks.

She orgasmed like a pig when she was double and triple-fucked in her pussy, falling limp from the pleasure of having her holes torn apart by multiple knots at the same time. Her asshole prolapsed, leaving her to degradingly take dicks and shit out huge, nasty creampies with her wrecked anus. She even jerked off her prolapsed womb and asshole as if the glistening protrusions were cocks, spraying out gouts of semen from her overflowing holes.

For seven days and seven nights, Jaina serviced every one of the twelve dark rangers and took them in every hole. Each one fucked her hundreds of times, and when she needed sustenance, she drank cum and piss. By the time Sylvanas returned, she was a moaning, orgasming wreck, her holes gaping, her eyes rolling, her tongue hanging out. Every inch of her body was covered in sperm; her hair was matted to her head by the sheer amount of dog cum that had been blasted all over her body.

The Banshee Queen was most pleased. Jaina’s earlier subterfuge had been convincing, but there was no doubt this time - she was mind-broken for real . And if the boy king of the alliance wanted Jaina back, he would have her.

Sylvanas spoke over her shoulder to Nathanos Blightcaller, who was ever loyal, even seeing all she had done. “You will take her to Dalaran,” she decreed. “With a message from me. The Alliance expects a peace summit… and we shall have peace. If they can permit us this revenge!”

And Sylvanas laughed again, even as Jaina’s rape continued, and she opened her mouth to let another dark ranger take aim with his worgen cock and piss heavily down her throat.

The uneasy feeling in Anduin’s gut became more intense when the Alliance delegation arrived at the Greyfang Enclave in Dalaran… and there was no evidence of Horde emissaries anywhere. Not in the streets, not near the Windrunner’s Sanctuary. Per his expectation that the ‘prisoner exchange’ would be the culminating event of an official Alliance/Horde treaty, almost the entire Alliance leadership was present at Runeweaver Square.

Each had played a part in Orath’s regime, and his defeat. There was Gelbin Mekkatorgue, who had let his curiosity and depravity run away with him during the development of the night elf hybrids. Moira Thaurassian, the regent of the Dwarves, who had been Orath’s concubine at her lowest point and gleefully participated in fucking and sucking his huge penis. Chromie was not technically a member of the Alliance, but her interest in peace for Azeroth meant that she was present as well. Then there was Genn Greymane, who had so vengefully orchestrated Sylvanas’ rape along with Jaina, and Anduin himself, who had been cajoled and manipulated into his own participation. All of them had atonement to perform, all of them hoped that Jaina’s return would mean an end to rape, humiliation and gangbangs as weapons of psychological warfare in Azeroth. 

Tyrande, who had been one of the most affected by the original conquest, was also present, with Malfurion meekly behind her. She had regained much of her formidable prowess and intellect after the Night Whore ritual - though her sexual appetites still knew no bounds. She was still engaged daily in the time bubble, fucking and birthing a recovering race of non-cucked kaldorei. Even venerable old Velen, who had cloistered himself away from the Alliance during the fall from grace, had returned to the fold.

“Something is not right,” Tyrande said in her regal voice. “Sylvanas and the rest should have been here by now.”

“Maybe they finally deposed the crazy bitch,” Genn growled. “Peace would be much easier without her in charge.” There was a murmur of agreement.

The assembled leaders were growing restless when a soldier in the armor of Stormwind approached, took a knee, and gave Anduin a message: “My king! A Horde procession approaches!”

“Finally,” Anduin breathed. “How many?”

“Just two, my king.”

“Two?!”

That revelation made no sense. Anduin had expected, at the very least, the presence of Sylvanas, Saurfang, Thrall, Lorthemar Theron, as well as the Thalyssra of the Nightborne. If there were only two, that meant-

“By the Light!” Velen exclaimed. And it was quickly clear why. Instead of a Horde delegation, it was a shackled and bowed Jaina arriving at Runeweaver Square - on a leash! She was accompanied only by a Nathanos Blightcaller, who led her hooded and cloaked figure to the grand fountain at the center. At first, it was impossible to tell that the prisoner was really Jaina - but the hints of her white-streaked hair beneath the hood seemed to verify it.

There had been much talk of Jaina’s return being the final closing door on a dark chapter of Azeroth’s history - the last embers of Orath’s sedition and rebellion would be quietly extinguished with Lady Proudmoore’s return, and retirement from public life. After what Jaina had done, the Horde would have a hard time accepting her as an Alliance leader ever again, but Anduin reasoned that she could still be useful as an advisor on matters of the arcane, and a conduit to Kul’Tiras, which had largely been spared from Orath’s depravities.

It was clear that Sylvanas cared nothing for such plans. 

Wordlessly, Nathanos let go of Jaina’s leash, granting the Alliance forces a wide berth. As she trudged closer, it became clear that Jaina’s hands were bound behind her, and that wasn’t all - she was blindfolded, her mouth was obstructed with an ornate ball gag, and her shapely, regal nose was hooked open in piglike fashion by leather straps with metal hooks that pulled her nostrils into gaping pig-like tunnels.

The Alliance delegation, meanwhile, was clustered at the other side of the clearing. “What is this?” Genn growled. “She dares jeopardize the peace with his humiliation?”

“She is sending a message,” Tyrande said. Since her transformation into the Night Whore, she had gained a keen sense for all things violative and lewd. “No doubt Sylvanas planned this, to let us know peace would be difficult.”

Nathanos followed Jaina for a few meters, then cut Jaina’s bonds. Then, he simply turned, giving them a sickly, knowing grin, and walked away, moving out of the square toward the Windrunner’s Sanctuary, where no Alliance forces were permitted. “We kept our part of the bargain,” he said. “She has been returned to you. Intact.” Then he laughed, as if the final word were nothing more than a joke.

Jaina began to walk blindly across the grass, and as she got closer, body dimming in the shadows of Dalaran towers, each of the Alliance leaders got a clearer picture of the returning ‘prisoner’. Jaina was totally nude, and the loose, hooded cloak slipped off as she reached the halfway point to their delegation, revealing a form that made them gasp. Her pale, gorgeously complexioned belly was completely swollen - so full that the skin was taut and blushing with tension, her navel distended like a sow-mother on the verge of birth. Hanging from her neck was a missive, a scroll with a few written words. 

The commotion had started to draw a lot of attention among the rank and file, hundreds of soldiers and mages who had been tasked with securing the neutral meeting, plus the many shopkeepers and sewer-dwellers who populated the city. They all watched as Jaina approached in her utterly lewd state. Whispers went out between the onlookers, speculating on the reason.

“Is she pregnant?”
“Can’t be. She’s been gone only a month. Those were the terms, were they not?”

“She’s filled with semen! Look at the size of that disgusting cum belly!”

“I’ve never seen such a nasty sperm gut! How many must have raped her, to fill her so thoroughly?”

Jaina arrived within ten paces, and Anduin moved to meet her, reaching out to look at the parchment hanging from her neck. He read the missive, written in thin, spider-silk calligraphy:

Sylvanas Windrunner sends her regards, boy king.

The message was attached to a tassel and choker, which in turn was attached to Jaina’s ballgag. Removing it would remove the gag, and Anduin did so, removing the blindfold as well, saying “Enough of this farce, let’s get you inside-” as he did so.

His words died in his mouth. Jaina’s eyes were rolled back and her lips, freed from the ballgag, were trembling. Her tongue lolled out at an odd angle. She was in no state to understand his words. Rather, she began to recite her own, like an automaton. He felt both revulsion at her state, and a twitch in his britches as his penis responded to the utter soul-destroying mindfuck that must have befallen her. She wasn’t wearing an Azerite collar at all… whatever Sylvanas had done, she had rendered Jaina into the ultimate victim!

“M-my name is… Jaina Proudmoore,” she moaned, presenting her defiled body to the onlookers. Huge tits, a massive, pale ass, shapely thighs - her body seemed to be at once fertile and fuckable. “For a week… I have been raped every second of every day… by the knotted cocks of Sylvanas’ dark worgen.”

“Dark worgen?!” Genn growled. “What has that crazy Horde cunt been up to?”

“Their huge cocks… make Alliance males look like total fags,” Jaina gasped. “And their knots have ripped apart my cunt while they ejaculated inside me, constantly, day and night. I have not slept since I was given the gift of their rape. Four-hundred ejaculations in my throat, five-hundred in my cunt, and six-hundred up my ass.” Her hand rubbed over her slovenly, sloshing sperm belly, before she turned and spread her thick, jiggly ass cheeks, revealing a butt plug with the symbol of the forsaken on it. “ This is Sylvanas… peace offering.”

Anduin closed his eyes, trying to cope with what he was seeing.

You knew she might do something like this , he thought. Sylvanas’ hatred for the Alliance is out of control. She is an evil bitch. And yet, there was something else. His cock was rock hard at Jaina’s defilement, and glancing around, he saw that Tyrande was licking her lips and many of the onlookers from Stormwind were jerking their cocks as well. The legacy of Orath’s kingdom of rape was still present, and there were those among their ranks who were turned on by Jaina’s defilement. Including him. After all, she had manipulated him, cockteased him, forced him to take part in atrocities, and been Orath’s puppet.

Anduin gritted his teeth and then reached down. Jaina moaned as his hand approached the plug. “Please… I need you to take it out!” The toy, buried in her anus, had a textured bone surface. He pressed his fingers between her heavy cheeks and gripped it… and then withdrew it with a ‘ schlooooooorp . Pop, pop, pop, pop! He watched as intricately carved bone spheres, inlaid with Horde-related insignias, popped out of Jaina’s asshole one by one, making her pink shit-chute grip and release over and over again. Only after six had been removed was the entire plug finally free.

Jaina’s bowels rumbled. “It’s… coming out! I can’t… hold it back!” Tears ran in blue eyes that were totally glassy with mind-broken arousal. “I want… all my allies… to see the gift that the Horde… gave me! Nnnnnnnngghgh!”

Braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaapppp!

There was an impossibly degrading burst of sperm-flatulence as Jaina’s pink, hairless, moist anus first bowed outward and then opened in a messy prolapse, dilating to reveal a huge log of gelatinous, compacted worgen dogsperm. It poured out in a solid cum-turd that was as thick and wide as Jaina’s calf-muscle, stretching her anus thin around it in a pink ring.

“So many huge, smelly dog dicks… pumped their cum up my assssssss!” Jaina wailed. “Look at how much I got raaaaped!” She lewdly reached behind herself, squatting like a whore using the privy, using her hands to grip and spread her wobbly, thick butt cheeks. Her voluptuous flesh poured between her fingers as she shit out a piling, steaming, glistening sperm log, her belly very slowly deflating as the degrading act emptied out her overstuffed bowels. “Take a look at my monster sperm shiiiiit!”

Her tongue bobbed out of her mouth and she drooled whorishly, obviously orgasming at her own defilement. Anduin’s cock twitched and tented his pants as he got an impossibly hard erection, just from the sheer ruination and defilement of his former mistress. He had thought any animosity he felt was in the past, that any depravity in his heart had died with Orath’s defeat. But clearly that wasn’t true. Jaina being treated like shit was making his body remember. 

Perhaps that had been Sylvanas’ point all along - that all of them had been complicit, and that there would never be a return to business-as-usual in Azeroth. Orath had kindled something dark in all of them. That, he realized, would be their true enemy.

Already he heard the voices of the Alliance soldiers:

“We can’t let this stand. We should rape every Horde woman, as payback!”

“Lady Proudmoore *was* the Alliance… and they used her as a toilet! Our honor is at stake!”

“What a cum-farting, worthless rape ditch she is now! By the Light, how much cum did she have packed up her ass? She’s still going!”

Anduin took off his own cloak and tried to throw it over Jaina’s shoulders and drag her away. He cursed Sylvanas, inwardly - Azshara was the greater enemy, and Sylvanas had just made his job exponentially harder.

“Come on,” he urged Jaina.

“I'm such a raped piece of shit!” Jaina said, brainlessly. Another splattery, loose cum fart blew out of her distended asshole. Then, she looked around at the assembled Alliance leaders. “Take out your cocks!” she urged. “I want you to rape me and piss on my face!” Amazingly, as she utterly degraded herself, she was experiencing obvious, quaking humiliation orgasms. 

As Anduin delivered Jaina into the arms of two stout Alliance guardsmen, bidding them take her to a secure place, he thought he heard a rolling, pelagic laughter that seemed to emanate from deep below. Below the city, below the sea, below everything. 

He knew what it meant. Azshara, as ever, was watching. Peace would be difficult. And that meant she had the upper hand.

Chapter Text

“Mmm, I love it when you make my hip bones creak with that big fucking human dick,” Valeera purred, straddling Anduin and laying on his chest in the royal bedchamber. Her lanky, athletic body was draped over his, the result of their third bout of lovemaking in the hour - though love certainly didn’t have much to do with their interaction.

“Now,” Anduin replied. “Give your report. As promised.” He sounded weary and impatient. Much as he’d wanted sex to become less a part of Azerothian life in the day-to-day, following the debauched foulness of the Orathian War, it seemed he still being called upon to use his long, fat royal cock as a bargaining chip. This time, to retain the services of an assassin and spy who could walk undetected among the Horde and report back the diplomatic consequences of his decision not to execute Jaina.

Jaina, who had seen Sylvanas raped for fourteen days and nights outside the gates of Orgrimmar (including personally plowing her with a conjured ice dildo). Jaina, who just as many in the Alliance wanted to see punished because of her complicity in Orath’s rise to power.

“So businesslike,” Valeera chided, playing a finger on Anduin’s lips playfully, wiggling her pelvis against his spent dick. “But I just felt you twitch down there. The madness that overtook this land isn’t going to vanish so easily, is it?”

“That’s not true,” Anduin said. “Those times are in the past. This is just…”

“Just what?”

Anduin looked in her green, glowing eyes for a moment, then up at the ceiling. “Just… a necessary cost. You wanted it and would accept nothing else. I needed your services. I would have used Shaw.”

“Mmm… does Shaw suck dick the way I do?” Valeera chuckled. She was joking, prodding at him. Anduin exhaled in frustration. Shaw very likely did suck a lot of dick in his spare time, but that was no one’s business. The truth was, only Valeera was skillful enough to blend in and get the information he needed - and warn him if another Horde military buildup was in the offing.

“Please. Give your report.”

Valeera exhaled hot breath against his chin and snuggled closer. She had a dynamite body - he could feel the agility stored in every supple muscle. Her fat breasts hung from her chest and hand-overflowing teardrop shapes, and her buttocks were thick spheres on her thin frame. The perfect bimbo fuckdoll who happened to also be a deadly rogue. But Anduin tried not to think of that… at least, that was his goal until she opened her mouth.

“Do you want me to tell you,” she seethed in his ear. “About how I was passed around like whore? Rehgar Earthfury, Broll, Bloodeye Redfist… they raped me every night and I loved it. And as for your father-”

Anduin hissed and shoved her away, sitting up in bed. “I don’t want to hear such things!” he replied, angrily. “The days of debauchery are done!”

But Valeera only looked at him steadily. “And yet, when I said those words, before you threw me off of you and sat up, I felt your cock twitch and grow harder than it had the entire time we were fucking,” she assessed. Her mouth turned up in a smile. “A king shouldn’t lie to himself. Lie to the people if you must, but there is something in Azeroth, in all of us. An undercurrent. It was there before Orath and remains after his death.”

Anduin beheld her, seeming to calm a little. “All the more reason to be vigilant,” he said, softly. His cock was jutting hard underneath the silk bedcovers. “Now. Give your report.”

Valeera sighed, resigned to getting no further dick that evening. Still, she supposed that three fucks was a fair deal for what she had to offer. “Despite her threats, Sylvanas seemed to have accepted your decision to keep Jaina alive,” Valeera recited. “I have seen no evidence of troop movements and heard no discussions of further war or retribution. If anything, the Horde seems paralyzed by the loss of their vaunted honor. Warriors like Saurfang and Baine Bloodhoof are finding it hard to reckon with all of the raping they did in the name of war. A rift has formed between that faction and Sylvanas.”

Anduin heard this and nodded. “Go on.”

“It may be that they feel too weak to make any move at present. But there has been much talk of negotiations with the trolls of the Zandalari Empire. My sources tell me that they have an enclave on the island, with the ultimate goal of adding the Zandalari fleets to their own.”

Anduin slammed his first into his palm. “Damn it, this is exactly what I was afraid of,” he said. “Our door to the greater sea is Kul Tiras, but they broke off from the Alliance years ago. We’re far from bringing them into the fold. Without their aid, we have no fleet to rival the Zandalari.”

“All good points, my king,” Valeera said, sounding a bit bemused. “So what will you do?”

“It ties into the other matter,” Anduin replied. “So… what have you observed?”

Valeera rose from the bed, naked, showing off every detail of her cascading blonde hair, bubbly buttocks, and wickedly sinuous assassin physique. Anduin felt his cock jerk again, but now was not the time. “You already have my report on what was done to Jaina - and I’m sure she’ll babble about it to you herself. As for her behavior in the Stockade… she’s not come back to herself yet.”

“The guards say little. It’s like they’re ashamed to tell me of her state,” Anduin mused.

“Yes,” said Valeera. “And for good reason. Jaina was raped by massive abomination and worg dicks in every hole, for hours and hours. She took part in city-sized gangbangs. She spends her time in her cell masturbating and begging the guards to fuck her - but only if they have dicks are huge as her ‘abomination’ husband.”

Anduin sighed. Valeera went on. “Not only that, but she refuses to eat food, saying she prefers the yellowed, stinky, clumpy sperm of abominations for all of her meals.” She raised an eyebrow at Anduin. “And… when she has to piss, she does so while squatting like a whore, right in the middle of her cell, so that every guard can see her fat cunt lips and massive ass.”

For a moment the room fell silent. Valeera’s eyes fell to Anduin’s hardon, and his followed her there. He covered it, making a ‘tsk’ noise with his mouth. “I won’t give up on her,” he said, rising from bed with his sheets bunched around his crotch. “If the night elves can be reclaimed… so can she.” And as he walked away, he dismissed Valeera, who watched him exit the chamber, admiring his cute ass on the way out. 

She’d been wanting to fuck him for years, and had finally gotten her chance. But her keen eyes and wit had picked up the fact that Anduin’s cock seemed to get extra hard at the more debauched and foul pieces of imagery in her report… and her own personal confessions. Orath had left a legacy, alright. And what it meant for the future of Azeroth, she didn’t know.

Valeera began to slide her boots onto her long, shapely legs, feeling Anduin’s cum drip down her thigh. Whatever was coming, she hoped to get some more fat human dick out of the deal.

“And you believe,” Tyrande asked, “that she could be redeemed?” She was standing across from the Anduin in the war room at Stormwind Castle, their bodies divided from each other by a great stone table and strategic map. If anything, her claim to having the best body in all of Azeroth was understated. Her waist as an agile hourglass, her thighs were graceful and shapely as a jungle cat. She had taken to wearing a white thong leotard in her new incarnation as the Night Whore, the embodiment of her people’s shared hypersexuality. The collar was a choker and it connected downward to a shelf of cleavage held in only the most scant bra cups, such that her big, purple nipples were more than halfway visible. Each breast was twice the size of Anduin’s head. The same could be said for the cheeks of her huge, bouncing, clapping, cock-crushing ass. And all of this bounty was attached to a slender neck, thighs, wrists, and calf muscles. She actually stood taller than Anduin, characteristic of her kind, with her dazzling green hair adding extra height - as did the free-floating moon sigil that seemed to emanate from her forehead.

She had been through more than anyone, even Jaina, having lived through millenia of her race’s rape at the hands of the Kor’korn, the emasculation of every night elf man, the birth of thousands upon thousands of half-breed children from her cock-stretched cunt… and then, being rescued by Anduin from her state of sex-fugue and now tasked with the recovery and redemption of her people. If anyone understood the challenge of being utterly broken and then returning to sentience, it was her. Yes, she was still a sex-hungry whore - perhaps moreso - but now her mind was her own, and her decisions were for her own pleasure, and not the pleasure of thousands upon thousands of others.

“I believe she can,” Anduin replied. “She is the key to unlocking Kul Tiras - they key to the Alliance’s future. It would be foolish to abandon her.”

Tyrande crossed her arms. Her tits were so huge, she could barely manage it. As it was, her forearms indented into the pillowy flesh of her breasts. Anduin caught himself staring - not the first time - and moved his eyes to her face, which was disapproving. “We cannot use the time bubble,” she said, in her cultured and regal voice. “Jaina is not long-lived like some. For the night elves, the process has taken millenia, and is nearly done. My race is rebuilt, and soon, the foul time sorcery will not be needed.”

“I don’t propose that,” Anduin replied, and gestured toward Tyrande. He had asked for her counsel, alone, so that others like Genn and Moira would not yet hear of his plan. In time, he hoped to bring them all on board - even Velen, the old prude who had removed himself physically and diplomatically as the troubles had started, and not yet come back to reconcile fully. “I think you - just you - could use some of your power to bring her back to what she was. Perhaps you and a few others.”

Tyrande seemed to ponder the suggestion, and Anduin saw a shadow pass over her face that was rather alarming… though it vanished in an instant. He and Tyrande had been acting as basically the ‘king’ and ‘queen’ of the Alliance since the fall of Orath and Tyrande’s redemption… with all of the behind the scenes fucking that entailed. In truth, it was very hard to keep up with Tyrande, who could fuck until he dropped and had to beg her to let him rest. And he had an inkling that she was a bit jealous and possessive of him.

“You’re not… jealous of her, are you?” he ventured. Instantly her expression snapped into one of denial.

“Of course not!” Tyrande declared. “I’m only thinking about whether what you say is possible!” But the short thundercloud that Anduin had detected in her face had told the true story. Prior to her descent into utter depravity, Jaina had always been Anduin’s favorite. Now, to be asked to rescue Jaina, even in spite of her crimes… perhaps to restore her competition for the boy-king’s affection? It was-

“I don’t ask this lightly,” Anduin said, seeming to read her mind. “I know how you must feel. But those sorts of rivalries and preoccupations… they’re a thing of the past. Orath is gone. I only want what’s best for Azeroth. And you know the Banshee Queen, even if her sex lust is no more, still has a lust for power. Even now she’s trying to bring the Zandalari into the fold.” He leaned forward and tended his fingers under his chin. “We need Kul Tiras,” he said. “We need Jaina.”

Tyrande narrowed her eyes, making her displeasure clear. “I can try to do this for you,” she said. “But it may be… difficult. The redemption of my people took millenia; only now has the need for the time bubble waned. To drive the ghost of degradation from Jaina’s body and mind - the magical forces required may tear her apart.”

Anduin thought about how Jaina had been when she was released from Horde custody - totally addicted to mistreatment and rape, begging for cum, leaking abomination sperm by the gallon from every one of her holes. She had already been through a lot; whatever Tyrande had planned, whatever hardships her treatment entailed, it couldn’t be much worse than being the sexual plaything of Sylvanas Windrunner and her twisted cadre of Dark Rangers.

“Do what has to be done,” Anduin said. Folding  his hands. “I’m sure she would prefer that we tried, rather than leave her as she is now.”

Tyrande nodded, turning and walking out of the war room, her thick ass-cheeks swaying and bouncing from side to side with each measured step. Anduin always enjoyed watching her leave, and this was no exception. His cock was throbbing, not just because of the Night Elf ass-meat on display, but also at the remembrance at how degraded Jaina had been. Though this second cause, he could scarcely admit to himself.

Get a grip , he reminded himself. Orath is gone. Azeroth is healing. 

Before she left, though, she turned and looked over one statuesque shoulder. “I hope this obsession with Jaina… will not prevent you from being a proper father to our son.” And perhaps expecting that such a statement could have no meaningful reply, she continued on and left.

Anduin said nothing. Night elf women had been breeding sows for so long, it was easy to forget that in the post-Orath era, their children were no longer faceless, nameless hybrid rape soldiers… but sentient beings. And with the fucking he’d given Tyrande to help restore her mind, well… the results had become clear.

He waited for his hardon to subside before rising himself and returning to the throne room.

“Mmm, come here,” Jaina purred, addressing the Stormwind guard outside her cell. She was dressed in her familiar outfit with buckled corset and robe, the only addition being a modified dampening collar that would prevent her from using teleportation or destructive magic. This device was the lone holdover permitted from Orath’s rain, and useful for imprisoning all manner of magical threats - including a former member of the Kirin Tor.

“I’m not supposed to,” the guard warbled. He was young, just assigned to this detail. He’d been recruited to the task and given the same advice as the rest of her jailors. Report any suspicious activity. And absolutely no fraternization. That meant no flirting, no responding to lewd remarks, no watching her if she got lifted her skirts and masturbated, which she often did. No peeking between the bars if she was twerking her pale, thick ass to get attention. “Be quiet.”

But Jaina wouldn’t be quiet… she’d been locked away for nearly a week with very little stimulus, and she’d become used to being fucked and degraded by abominations and horde warriors every waking hour. Her body was aching for mistreatment and abuse… or any way to satisfy the itch inside her that her own fingers couldn’t seem to reach.

The next time she spoke, her voice was coming from right against the bars, and it made the guard’s forearms prickle with gooseflesh. 

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have one of the Alliance’s leaders shove her tongue straight up your ass?” Jaina seethed. The guard’s Adam's apple bobbed with a gulp, and sweat ran down his brow. A pale arm snaked through the bars and reached around to his codpiece.

“I love licking guys’ asses,” Jaina went on. “Especially when they help me out. Open this gate why don’t you? I know you can’t help me escape… but I need to get fucked. I need a stud to lay some big, fat dick in my cunt.”

“Hnngh…” she guard wheezed. “Lady Proudmoore,”

“Jaina,” she corrected. “You can call me Jaina, or Cunt, or Whore… or Toilet.” She nibbled her plump, pretty lower lip. “Imagine what a stud you’ll feel like when you fucking piss down my throat! You can tell all your friends at the barracks - that one of the most powerful females in all of Azeroth is your personal piss-trough!”

“Shut up in there!” the guard grunted, stumbling away from the bars a little. “They told me you’d try something like this!” But when he turned, he saw that Jaina had stripped off her waistcoat and jacket, and was wearing only a thong and her corset, lewdly thrusting her hips out toward him. Her eyes were filled with a bottomless hunger for dick! In spite of their situation - he on the outside of the jail cell, her inside - the guard couldn’t help but feel vulnerable, like a piece of meat being surveyed by a hungry, platinum-haired hyena! The former Archmage of the Kirin Tor was nothing more than a fucked-out, nasty, horny bitch!

And of course, Jaina paid no heed to his warnings, acting even more lewdly than before, betting that her utter disgrace, that the foulness of seeing a formerly respected hero of the realm brought so low, would be the key to coaxing this rather nervous guard to action. She needed to get fucked by something… anything! She had come to welcome degradation and abuse as the familiar embrace of a lower.

“I bet you would have loved to watch me suck off my abomination husband,” Jaina purred, dropping to her knees. Her hands mimicked stroking and fondling the balls of a mammoth dick. “His cum was thick and nasty and tasted like shit!” She winked and licked her tongue over her white teeth. “And that’s just the way I wanted it! I want the nastiest fuckers in Azeroth to pump my stomach full of their rotten, stinky ball-trash!”

“Shut up!” the guard called again. His knees were trembling. His grip on his halberd seemed to be weakening. Jaina’s utter worthlessness was making him lose faith not just in her but in all sentient beings. What a disgusting slut - and she wasn’t finished.

When the guard failed to respond, Jaina turned around and flashed her big, pale ass, looking lewdly back over her shoulder with a come-fuck-me sneer as she used two hands to lewdly pull her cheeks apart. Her well-used, puffy pink asshole was divided by the scant fabric strip of her thong, visible on both sides of it as a twitching, dick-hungry orifice that seemed to be beckoning the guard to produce his member and shove it inside.

“I’m such a raped piece of shit!” Jaina moaned, and in lieu of action physical contact, she seemed to be reveling in the guard’s disgust, wallowing in masochism as his feelings for her radiated through the air in her direction. She squatted downward, accentuating the thick white moons of her ass, arching her back, taking on a bow-legged and position like someone squatting over an open-air latrine.

“W-what are you doing!?” the guard blurted. But Jaina gave no verbal reply - she only tugged the fabric of her thong to the side and blasted the floor with a steaming, hot torrent of acrid piss - blasting so copiously from between her cunt flaps that it seemed a waterfall was pouring out.

“Yes! Watch me pissing!” Jaina groaned, biting her lower lip. “Watch this stupid whore take a piss! Look how thick the stream is! Back in Orgrimmar… I was chained up… and hundreds of peons raped me… they even stretched open my urethra and shoved their dicks inside… the place I piss from is just another orc rape hole… nnngh!” 

The guard’s eyes were wide and blank with the horror of Jaina’s utter and complete degradation. He had heard rumors of her behavior - and he knew that scores of guards had quit the assignment of guarding her cell. But he’d never expected anything this foul. He was disgusted with her, but more than that, he was disgusted with himself - because his own dick was rock hard inside his armor! Jaina was such a dick-addled fuck-toilet, she almost seemed to deserve his rape!

“Shut up in there, you fat, stupid piss tank!” he barked, speaking more forcefully than his timid personality usually allowed. Normally he’d never say such things… but she seemed both to want and to require such treatment! “Cover up your disgusting rape hole and be quiet!” He couldn’t help it - his hand went from halberd to the fasteners and loops of his codpiece, seeking release. It wasn’t his fault, he reasoned - Jaina Proudmoore was just such a nasty piece of subhuman fuckmeat, it was only natural to empty his balls to her!

“I’m… cumming… from the piss coming out of my peon fuckhole!” Jaina croaked, and her eyes had started to roll back in her head. Steam was indeed rising from the large, bubbly piss puddle on the ground. “Take a look! Please! Everyone watch me! Call your friends so they can see what a piece of garbage I am!”

The guard closed his eyes, no longer wanting to look at her, stroking himself, his discarded codpiece on the floor between his legs. He did not sense the shadow standing over him until it was right on top of him. It had come silently - impossibly so in the dank, torch-lit hallways. 

“Stand aside,” the regal and melodic voice said.

Oh, shit, he thought. He was in big trouble - a very powerful someone had caught him in a compromising position, jerking off to the prisoner he was supposed to be guarding. He stumbled and clattered against the stone wall, uttering a cry, whirling around to see: 

Lady Tyrande. Tyrande Whisperwind. The tall, voluptuous, and gorgeous leader of the reborn Night Elves. As recently as a few months before, she had been the butt of every dirty joke in Azeroth. Now, no one dared make such a remark, for her appetite for revenge was at least the equal of her rumored appetite for sex.

For a moment, the guard was stuck between collecting his codpiece and trying to cover his hanging dick. Tyrande lost patience with this quickly, and grabbed him by his breastplate.

“Go,” she said, and her voice carried the weight of hard potential reprisals if the command was disobeyed. The guard didn’t bother collecting his codpiece, or his halberd. He only clomped down the hallway with both hands covering his crotch, leaving Tyrande alone with Jaina in near silence.

With the object of her attempted manipulation gone, Jaina was left standing in the center of her cell, with the fragrant smell of her piss wafting around. The two women stared at each other through the bars - Jaina’s eyes a wild and haggard blue from which the light of restraint and dignity had long-since departed - Tyrande a pitiless black that reflected the torchlight from the esconces in the nearby walls.

“Jaina,” Tyrande said.

“Tyrande,” Jaina returned, looking her counterpart up and down. “Are you here to fuck?” Tyrande only looked at Jaina steadily, so the blonde continued. “Will I be taken and put in the stocks, perhaps in Stormwind Harbor. Will I be raped day and night for all of my crimes against your people?” She licked her lips. “I hope so.”

“Some would say you deserve it,” Tyrande said. “But no, that is not your fate.”

“This is just how she would come to me… to collect me for my next degradation,” Jaina went on. “She even gave me a husband to live with, and clean, and receive his smelly, massive cock all night. Will you do that? Give me some nasty, virile, hung animal to service? One of the feral servants of Cenarius? Or perhaps a lowly mortal creature - a horse, or a pig!” Her eyes danced with the lewd possibilities.

“Don’t compare me with that depraved and damaged Banshee Queen,” Tyrande said, her voice even. “Though the crimes you committed against my people will never be forgotten, to say nothing of your crimes against Azeroth… there are some who think you yet have a part to play in this great struggle between the Horde and the Alliance.”

Jaina said nothing.

“You are coming to Teldrassil - the home that was the center of so much of your debauched mischief. There, among the night elves, who were the greatest victims of Orath's madness, you will partake in a ritual.” Tyrande walked forward, such that her huge breasts pressed against the bars of Jaina’s cell, indenting them like a large waffle iron, the flesh bulging through.

“If you are lucky, and Elune is merciful… your life may not be worthless after all.”

And then, wordlessly, she lifted the gate to Jaina’s cell, removing the barrier between them. The two women looked at each other with distrust. Tyrande had been pressed into service to perform this favor; Orath’s demise couldn’t erase the many years of bad blood. Yet the Night Whore’s black gaze never wavered, and the reflected torchlight flickered in the wet surface of her inky sclera, like riders on a moonlit night.

“Will I get fucked if I go?” Jaina pouted. She was preserving the illusion that she had a choice, the dregs of mind that worked what she considered sanity were fragile and filled with poisonous threads of ego. “I want to get fucked . My womb needs rape .”

“If all goes well,” Tyrande replied, permitting herself a smile this time. “It will be better than any fuck you’ve ever had.”

They traveled to Teldrassil and the time bubble under cover of cloaks - Anduin would not even permit a third party to open a portal, secrecy was of such paramount importance. Until the boy king was sure the deed was done, he couldn’t risk his political position by throwing support behind Jaina full force. She needed to be cured of the damage Sylvanas had done; so that when presented back to the Alliance world, and Kul Tiras, she didn’t immediately bend over and beg to be fucked in the ass.

It was a long trip, and Jaina was bound the entire time, traveling behind Tyrande on a moonsaber to which her legs and wrists were lashed with unbreakable ropes and her filthy mouth constrained by a gag. Only when they arrived at the outskirts did they meet Chromie and accept her teleportation, with Tyrande hand-waving away the usual spiel about possible side effects including time sickness, disorientation and pain at the joints.

“Chromie, you don’t have to give that warning every time,” Tyrande announced, looking up at the tree from the secret time portal base at the rebuilt Rutheran Village. “I have been coming and going from here for a thousand years.”

“Oops!” Chromie chirped, rubbing the back of her head and shrugging. “My bad!” And with a wave of her small gnomish hand, seconds later, both Tyrande and Jaina found themselves in Teldrassil proper.

Tyrande had a rope fastened to Jaina’s bonds, and led her solemnly toward the Temple of the Moon. As they walked, she spoke softly about what could be seen all around - a renewed lushness and fey, verdant health that had seemed nearly gone after the Kil’kron occupation. 

“The tree has been restored,” Tyrande lectured. “As have the souls of my people. It has taken many years… many generations. But the water is clear of the oil and defecations of the Kil’kron, no longer do rivers here run red with blood from their butchery, or black with the oily foulness of the Venture Company.” She fanned a hand over the hanging boughs of nearby trees - there were birds chirping and fauns jumping around at the edge of the brush.

“And you see no slave auctions, no rape pits. You see mindless lines of kal’dorei females being bred, and birthing soldier after soldier. And look!” She pointed to a group of night elf males, who were wearing normal clothing instead of the embarrassing loincloths that Orath had forced on them, in order to accentuate their cuckolded micropenises. “Our men have regained their pride. Each generation, those with the largest penises have been chosen to breed, and now kal’dorei genitals are just as large as before - larger even!” Tyrande smiled with pride; indeed, several of the males were watching the two of them walk and appeared to be sporting fat bulges in their trousers.

“Will they rape me?” Jaina asked. “I want to get raped by big cocks!” 

Tyrande shook her head. “No. But if it is your wish to be invaded and violated and searched, your deepest purposes examined… the ritual I contemplate will do that and more!” They were approaching the temple. Back in the days of the Kil’kron invasion, Tyrande had been kept as a concubine there; back then, she enchanted water of the moonwell had been replaced with all the orc cum she’d had pumped into her holes. Now, the temple was returned to its former glory, and only upon gaining entrance into the ground floor did Tyrande let her cloak fall from her shoulders, exposing her risque Night Whore bodysuit, insufficient as ever in containing her huge balloon tits and massive ass globes.

She pulled Jaina closer and cut her bonds, letting the mage’s cloak fall away as well. Jaina looked around at the temple. It was empty except for the two of them, and filled with a sort of serenity and aura that made her fair skin tingle. “There are no males here,” she said. “I want to be raped . You must call some.”

Tyrande looked at the desperation and thirst for abuse in Jaina’s blue eyes, and thought: Was this how I was? She had no clear memory of her state in the aftermath of the Rape of Darnassus; and Anduin refused to elaborate about her behavior, only saying that she ‘wasn’t herself’. But she had certain memories, certain echoes inside her that were familiar - she saw them in her dreams as if through a filter of frosted glass. The desire to pull trains of hundreds, thousands of men. The desire to suck off horses and have her insides rearranged by the thickest, meatiest cocks. To drink hot, steaming male piss as if it was wine. And the ache in her womb to birth - to orgasm endlessly while dropping out kid after kid… that was a shadow that never seemed to abate.

The hell that had been hers, was Jaina’s curse to bear now. It was almost enough to make Tyrande feel sorry for the archmage, and to forgive her for her war crimes. Almost. “Come,” she said, and began to strip out of her clothing. The sight that followed would have caused any eavesdropping, peeping male being with a functioning penis to instantly blow his load - Tyrande peeling her majestic body out of her pearl-colored leotard. Her breasts were enormous; there was no other word that could describe them. Two huge, round milk-tanks that seemed to scream fertility, with prominent nipples of a slightly darker shade of her usual pinkish-purple. Her midsection was taut and rippling with supple, inviting muscle - nothing too vascular or ugly, the perfect mix of athleticism and grace. 

And her ass. Entire chapters could be written about her ass, which seemed to explode from behind her like the thorax of a torchbug, in two big, round, jiggling moons. It looked like that if a being were to slide its penis between those cheeks, the orgam would simply disappear. Add this hourglass figure to her amazonian tallness and regal aura, and it was enough to make any man fall to his knees and beg for the Night Whore to grant him release.

Once she was naked, Tyrande strode out into the waters of the moonwell, he ankles stirring the pool in sparkling, round ripples. She beckoned Jaina to undress, and the human mage did so, showing off a body that was nearly the equal to Tyrande’s… and in some ways, surpassed it. She was shorter in stature of course, being human, but that served to compact her tits, ass, and thighs into matronly swells that looked just as large on her frame as Tyrande’s looked on hers. Lacking the rippling muscle, her midsection was instead a soft and utterly flawless field of white. And while her bottom was less of a bubble than Tyrande’s, her higher body fat percentage instead turned into a big, thick, pale dump truck that was a serious dick breaker . Add to that the scintillating blue eyes and striking, platinum streaked blonde braid, and she was every bit of the Night Whore’s equal.

She followed Tyrande out into the moonwell and the two women stood next to the center, where a carved figure was pouring magical waters down from a cistern above their heads, a waterfall fountain that could serve as a perfect place to anoint themselves.

“I will ask Elune to cleanse you,” Tyrande said, turning and embracing Jaina. Their two eyes met and for a moment it seemed like a kiss was in the offing. Getting any closer would be difficult, though, simply because of their sheer size of both of their pairs of breasts. Jaina’s tits, like Sylvanas’, had been modified to be embarrassingly huge, and the effects, though diminished since her release, were still evident. Tyrande’s, on the other hand, were a naturally huge pair of baby feeders. The two pairs of milk trucks bulged against each other and their bulbous, porous nipples rubbed together as their hands wrapped around each others’ waists.

“I don’t need your help,” Jaina whispered, haunted. “I just want to fuck. I just want men to treat me like shit.” She shuddered. “I want to marry the fattest, most disgusting slob in the Alliance and let him tear my cunt up with his thick, smelly dick every night-”

Tyrande put a finger to Jaina’s lips and shook her head. “Let Elune’s light inside you,” she purred. And they stepped into the waterfall and let the enchanted water pour down on their bodies. Jaina gasped as they washed each other, grinding their fat pussy mounds together by raising their legs, rubbing their nipples together, groping each other’s huge tits and thick ass cheeks. A symphony of purple night elf skin dovetailing with pale human. And above their heads, in the semi-darkness of the temple chamber, a white light was gathering, as if cast by a moonbeam. A locus of white energy.

Tyrande glanced up and saw it as they cavorted together in the greatest shower scene in Azerothian history. It had happened faster than she thought it would. Much faster. The ritual was proceeding at a rate that exceeded her modest expectations… that would have exceeded even optimistic ones!

“Let Elune into your heart,” Tyrande purred, soaping up Jaina’s butt with enchanted water, letting the thick flesh of her ass-cheeks pour through her fingers, lifting it and then dropping it, causing a wet clap each time. And as she said it, a beam of light, moving and turning in the air, seemed to extend from the power locus and extend toward Jaina. It approached… but Jaina recoiled, and her eyes seemed almost panicked.

“N-no!” she gasped. “I’m… too far gone. You don’t understand. I was raped… my womb… was a toilet for abomination cum. Gross, yellow, stinky dead sperm… was pumped out into my most sacred place.” Her eyes widened. “I’m… I’m worth less than shit as a woman now. I’m only good for rape. I can only cum when men throw me to the ground and fuck me like a stupid whore!” She nibbled her lip at the memory. “It’s… it’s no use trying to save me-”

The beam of light began to bend, taking on the form of a probing, coiling snake in the air, seeming to have a mind of its own as it continued to approach Jaina. The blonde tried to pull away but Tyrande held her fast; as the waters cascaded down over them, the light beam reached and then circled around their bodies. 

“What is this?” Jaina gasped. Her vision began to fill with light, and her last vision before all became a luminous field was that of Tyrande, the night elf’s eyes wide open and turning from deep black to blazing, flawless white as she kept Jaina in an unbreaking gaze.

A voice spoke, though no mouth moved. 

Accept the guidance of Elune.

Then, in an instant - the trappings of reality fell away. There was no Temple of the Moon, no moonwell, no waterfall, no fountain. Tyrande found herself in a strange place, surrounded by darkness, with details becoming perceptible only slowly. The ritual she’d called upon was one of purification, of exorcism. She was inside Jaina’s mind.

It happened too fast , Tyrande thought. By Elune’s grace, she accepted me into the depths of her being… in only a few minutes. It should have been hours. It’s as if the magic of the ritual was amplified, like something made Jaina a perfect candidate for it. Is it because she is human and not kal’dorei?

For better or worse, it was too late to go back now. More details of the surroundings were fading into view. Jaina, naked, on her hands and knees, weeping softly. And in all directions, devastation - ruined buildings, bodies irradiated by the sheer force of an unfathomable arcane explosion. The ground seemed to rise up all around them, as if they were at the epicenter of a huge caldera, with ruptured stonework embedded in the sides, half-buried in soil tinted purple with magic residue. And in places, the crumbled pieces of gazebos and domes floated in the air, untethered from all gravity by a magical holocaust that had bent the very laws of nature.

“Theramore,” Tyrande whispered. The place where Garrosh Hellscream’s horde had dropped the mana bomb, murdering thousands. The town Jaina herself had founded, and whose people she’d felt most responsible for. This was not what Tyrande had expected. She had expected to see an allegory for Jaina’s time with Sylvanas - the degradation, the rapes, the twisted morality that had entered her in those dark days. She knew all too well the condition; and had been prepared to pull it from her body like a weed, however long it took. But instead, some greater trauma was evident.

“I couldn’t save them,” Jaina sobbed. Naked and vulnerable at the bottom of the crater, she was a pathetic sight, and obviously filled with grief… and rage.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Tyrande ventured.

“The Horde,” Jaina seethed, through tears. “The foul, amoral Horde. They did this. All they understand is strength!” Her voice echoed in the empty, crackling, magic-torn air. “I’ll tear them apart!” She rose to her feet, and as Tyrande watched, started to levitate, gathering power around her. Great magical winds stirred up dust and slipped over the smooth skin of their naked bodies.

“Elune… grant me sight!” Tyrande begged, and she looked at Jaina, sensing rather than seeing a blue glow from within her. White energy, the same that had floated in the air in the Temple of the Moon, extended from her body and moved to envelop the mage - thick, white tendrils that slipped around her thighs, her breasts, pulling her legs and arms taut in the air, trying to control her. Yet the depth of sorrow and vengeance inside was so great that Tyrande could barely hold her.

The ritual was unfolding so, so quickly. Jaina’s body was, for reasons Tyrande couldn’t understand, a locus of magic. And if she wasn’t careful, she realized, it could end in destruction for both of them, in the same way that trying to defuse an explosive could have a dire result. That blueness at her center, pulsating inside her. Tyrande focused. White energy tentacles spread out. One slid down Jaina’s throat and another prodded between her thighs, sliding wetly there before inserting into her pussy and moving upward.

Tyrande gasped - a feedback loop was created instantly. She was close to the source of Jaina’s torment and madness, but also feeling all of the rage and hate and self-loathing that had crippled her. In penetrating into Jaina’s soul, she had made herself vulnerable to the blackness therein!

“The Horde should all be destroyed,” a voice growled in the air - coming in both of their voices. Blue-hued darkness started to crawl through the white tendrils and toward Tyrande’s body. “Every Horde female should be raped, and every Horde child too. Every father should be made to watch his daughters servicing Alliance cock. We will breed them out of existence!”

The strange dual voice sounded demonic. Tyrande gritted her teeth and pushed back. 

No. No!

“I deserve it too, for letting Theramore die!” the disembodied voice cried. “I deserve to get my cunt ripped apart by the biggest, most degrading animal cocks! I’m worthless! I want common, homeless, unwashed thugs to beat and rape me! I want them to piss on my face! I’ll even eat their shit, I don’t care!”

Tyrande felt such a jolt of masochist rip through her body that she nearly had an orgasm from the sheer pleasure of the filthy imagery. The darkness in the tendrils that connected them was seeping closer and closer to her body… and she knew that if that inky, bluish blackness went inside, it would be the end for her. Instead of ‘curing’ Jaina, she would join her in depravity. They would spend the rest of their meaningless lives getting raped and gangbanged by hundreds, thousands of men and animals, and serving as open air cum-sewers and toilets. They would give up their names and answer only to Toilet and Rape-Ditch. They would give birth to the children of their rapists non-stop until their bodies gave out. Tyrande could see this future as clearly as anything, and it was a frightening one.

She gathered her strength and called upon Elune once more to guide her mind’s arrow, stabbing outward toward Jaina in a penetrative act as intimate as any sexual tryst. The inner strength that had made her such a bastion for the kal’dorei was summoned to its fullest extent, and the light began to fill the tendrils once more, pushing the darkness back into Jaina’s holes… and then filling her body with a luminescence that could be seen even though her pale skin. And that was when Tyrande saw it - a sigul over Jaina’s womb, flashing in blue, like an intricately carved rune!

She did not recognize the rune, but she could feel it drawing the magic of the ritual into itself; this strange locus was the reason that the ritual had proceeded so effortlessly. For better or for worse, Jaina’s body was almost hungry for the touch of Elune’s magic. Tyrande reasoned that whatever was producing this azure glow had also played a part in turning her into a living, breathing locus of magic - one with a mind twisted by masochistic self-loathing and the need for dark, sexual revenge!

It also meant that the ritual was proceeding faster than planned… and there was no time to waste. She had to act quickly.

Tyrande concentrated and burrowed her tendril of white into Jaina’s womb, snaking it inside. It was a satisfying feeling, and she felt what seemed like physical pleasure once again, even though this was all happening outside of their physical forms, in a limbo of mind and soul. Jaina cried out in orgasm and her muscles went taut. Her tits and buttocks bounced again and again and she spasmed in the air.

Tyrande knew she had gained the upper hand, and called upon Elune to free Jaina from her madness, to repair her mind. The human woman was totally at her mercy; but she did no more than what Anduin had instructed, leaving Jaina as close to ‘normal’ as an ultra-powerful archmage could be. Gradually, she felt the blackness of self-hate and rape addiction began to ebb from Jaina’s body. 

Having gained the upper hand, the dangerous part of the ritual was over. It had been, almost literally, a mind-fuck… one designed to surgically correct Jaina’s sex madness. Tyrande knew Anduin’s instructions, and she felt a fondness for Anduin and wanted to please him… but also a possessiveness. And inside Jaina, beside the blackness of her debauched mind, she sensed other things that alarmed her. A considerable arrogance, for example. And more than that - a love for Anduin Wrynn!

It’s the darkness , Tyrande thought. Tempting you to do this. Don’t give in!

The surrounding background of Theramore was fading. Soon, Jaina’s healed mind would be shut to her. If something was to be done… it had to be now!

It is wrong. It is not what Anduin would want.

But in the waning moment, Tyrande couldn’t resist. With Jaina still at her mercy, Tyrande did a bit more digging with her tendrils, threading them through Jaina’s body, finding the place where her utmost desires were kept… and, as the mind-place began to collapse, taking them both back to their lives in the corporeal realm… she planted one suggestion.

One suggestion, to guarantee that Anduin would only be hers.

And when they came back to themselves, embracing in the waterfall of the Temple of the Moon, Jaina was none the wiser.

Whop. Whop. Whop.

“Nnngh… fuck, Tyrande… your pussy is squeezing my cock so tight… I’ll…” Anduin gasped. He was seated on the throne of Stormwind, the great hall totally cleared, the hour late. And his consort Tyrande was squatting on his dick and cock-riding him expertly, making her thick ass-cheeks slap against his upper thighs each time she let his long dick slide to the balls inside her molten cunt. She was so wet, her juices were leaking down over his nuts and down the front of the throne. Her huge tits were right in her face, and her forearms thrown around his neck and she breathed hot kisses into his mouth.

Ever since Tyrande had returned after successfully ‘curing’ Jaina, the sex had been amazing. She had been extremely attentive, almost making a point of taking care of his every sexual need. And though Anduin had worried that perhaps competition between the two woman would somehow cause a problem (one he hoped to avoid by sending Jaina to Kul Tiras and keeping Tyrande at home), he’d seen no sign of it. If anything, Jaina had been a bit distant, a bit cautious… dressing modestly around him and showing no signs of the flirtations that he’d once welcomed.

He supposed it was for the best.

“Nnngh… fuuuuuck!” Anduin gasped, and blew what felt like a tankard’s worth of thick semen deep into Tyrande’s sopping box. She spasmed with orgasm around him, seeming to milk him up into her amazing body, wanting every drop of that seed.

“Yes!” she gasped. “Pump that cum into me… get me pregnant with another prince!” She had come to start talking in those terms recently - referring to their children as the heirs to Stormwind… and her displays of affection had become more public. Anduin wasn’t sure this was a good idea, considering the sour taste that all the Alliance leaders fucking among themselves had left in the mouths of the populace at large… but he’d never found it easy to resist the advanced of forceful, powerful women.

He reclined in his throne and sighed with pleasure and contentment as Tyrande climbed off his cock and dutifully sucked the last drops of semen from his piss-pipe.

The future of the Alliance was secure, and waiting across the sea in Kul Tiras. Orath was dead. Azeroth was healing itself.

Surely, a time of peace was at hand.

Chapter Text

Jaina’s quarters in Stormwind had a large dressing mirror, and it was through this glass that she saw herself as she prepared to teleport to Ironforge. She found that, in the wake of her ordeal, she was hypersensitive to the ways her body had changed; and how those who had suffered under Orath’s rule would react to seeing her again. 

She wanted, more than anything, to believe that she was herself again. The Jaina of old, and more than equal to the task that Andiun had given her - a mission of diplomacy across Azeroth and then to her homeland of Kul Tiras, where she alone might hold the key to gaining their vaunted navy for the Alliance. 

Yet she was not quite the same. She could see it in the mirror. She was curvier, her lips fuller, her breasts larger. No matter which way she turned, or how she tightened the leather corsetry of her admiral’s robe, nothing seemed to be able to hide these new features. Especially her ass. She had set out to dress more modestly that morning, only to find that her old, disused wardrobe contained no sensible underwear that could fit her pale, massive donk . Straining to pull them up, and hearing the seams rip, had made her feel utterly embarrassed. In the end, only a thong would do.

Jaina worried yet, though, that changes within her still remained beyond the physical. She was hyper-alert for any sensation or thought that might signal a return to her prior ways. Would the feeling of her robe’s expensive material, sliding against her bare skin, drive her to a fit of indulgent masturbation, as it had so many times when she was Orath’s second? There was definitely a tingling sensitivity that made her moan as she dressed… though she resisted the urge to sate it, telling herself she was of sound mind again, and had willpower enough not to masturbate and fuck and service cock at the drop of a hat.

And was she of sound mind? Her experiences had changed her, of that there could be no doubt. She was wracked with guilt for the sexual foulness she’d helped to engineer; her diplomatic trip was her opportunity to make amends to the kingdoms she had waged campaigns of rape and enslavement against while under the control of Orath’s dominating, overpowering cock.

Fuck, it was huge , Jaina thought, and her mind returned to the way her jaw had nearly broken to accommodate that brutal, two-foot-long rape meat. She gritted her teeth and shook her head, dispelling the thought. Those were the days behind her.

Now, it was time to ask forgiveness and repair the Alliance. She had been so eager to undo her wrongs that, when Tyrande ordered her to kneel and accept Anduin’s quest, she had done so instantly and slavishly, even surprising herself a little. Tyrande was very cold toward her in the throne room as the plan was explained, and Jaina knew she could expect similar coldness all across the realm. After all… she had a lot to answer for.

“Alright,” she whispered to herself, giving her corset one last adjustment, cinching the leather straps. To her dismay it only made her tits look even more huge. With this uncertainty fresh in her mind - the knowledge that her enlarged tits would be the first thing anyone would see in a diplomatic setting - she nonetheless waved her hand and, with an incantation, set off for Ironforge.

Vereesa Windrunner, leader of the Silver Covenant, was the last of Jaina’s diplomatic tasks, but by the time she reached the appointed meeting place of Dalaran, the frost mage’s mind was troubled. The elite high elves were to be called back into the fold, and Vereesa recruited to the cause of the Kul Tiran mission… yet Jaina hesitated as she approached Vereesa’s rooms.

As much as anyone, the high elf ranger captain had degraded herself on Orath’s cock, and much of her degradation had been undertaken with Jaina’s cackling approval. Notably, Vereesa’s relationship with her children had been fractured by her abandoning motherhood to slurp on Orath’s massive penis. Jaina could still remember her eye-rolling moans and babbling about her love for monster dick, all while professing that Orath, and only Orath, was the love of her life. She doubted that Vereesa would be too happy to receive the sponsor of that disgrace, even reformed.

That wasn’t the only thing weighing on Jaina, either. The visits to the strongholds of the other Alliance races had demonstrated that the scars of Orath’s war were far from healed. With each visitation she had observed strange changes in custom and attitude. In Ironforge, for example, Moira Bronzebeard had been put in metal stocks as atonement for her role in ‘delivering’ the dwarven race into Orath’s hands. The fragile peace that had existed between the Dark irons and the Bronzebeard clan was again tenuous… and when Jaina had parlayed with Moira, it was while the stout, uber-thicc matron was getting her round, bubbly ass-cheeks whipped and branded with hot irons.

“Now laddies, let’s rape this traitorous queen’s fat shitter!” a bearded guard had bellowed, though with his accent, the final word came out shett-air . Moira, her sow-like breasts hanging down and her face perspiring, had assured Jaina that this period of ‘recompense’ would eventually end… but until then, she would continue to ‘apologize’ to her people by making her ass available in The Great Forge, so they might take out any “frustrations” with her stewardship. 

It was while Moira was being ass-fucked that Jaina had received an assurance of Ironforge support for the Kul Tiran mission, and offered her own apologies… but felt compelled to leave as the line of horny, swarthy dwarves had started eyeing her , knowing that her role in Orath’s atrocities had been even greater than Moira’s. It was with relief that she teleported away, cutting off Moira’s moaning cry of mixed pleasure and remorse halfway.

Gilneas had been no better; Genn’s self-loathing was evident as he received her. He hated himself for what he had done, no doubt, and for the urges that still lingered. As Jaina explained her purpose and offered her deep apologies, she felt his eyes crawling over her breasts and ass like a wolf on the hunt. Genn hated himself for the brutal sexual degradation he’d inflicted, and by association, he hated her. 

“Apologize then, for all the good it will do,” he managed, his voice sounding tired. “You shall have Gilnean aid in Kul Tiras… though you may not wish for it, given the state of things. My people are twice-cursed now.” And with that he’d shifted into his wolf form, revealing menacing lycanthrope physicality… and a brutal, knotted canine cock that hung pink and enormous. “Shadows cloud my vision. My blood calls more than the hunt. So leave while you can, Jaina.”

Jaina, eyes wide as she beheld that dripping, flopping dog cock - the same one she’d seen absolutely shred Sylvanas’ asshole with a thick knot - felt an urge rise in her to drop to her knees and service it, to drinking that leaking, watery dogseed like it was conjured water. But she kept her composure and departed via portal.

And so it went. The Tauren were engaged in a ‘fertility’ ritual when she arrived - her negotiations with Baine were made as he plowed and planted seed in a succession of females. He seemed to accept Jaina’s apology - though he barely looked up from his fucking to do so. Indeed, the influence of the Grimtotem appeared to be growing in Thunder Bluff, if the dark and animalistic sexual ceremonies Jaina saw were any indication.

Gelbin Mekkatorgue, who had cast his lot with Orath almost enthusiastically, tinkered in his workshop as Jaina visited, and though he pledged the support of his kind to the Kul Tiran expedition, her presence almost seemed to be a distraction from his main preoccupation - a madcap assortment of whirring, buzzing, and vibrating sexual implements. Jaina stood with embarrassment as female gnome ‘test subjects’ sampled many-colored dildos far too large for their tiny bodies… crying out in mixed pleasure and pain.

Only Velen and the draenei, who had refused to participate in the hybrid soldier plan from the start, seemed mostly untouched by the change. In that case, Jaina was received formally… but with an almost unbearable coldness where once had been familiarity. Velen glowered at her disapprovingly, as an old teacher would at a delinquent student. “You have no right to ask our help,” he said.

It was true. Not for the first time, Jaina wondered why Anduin had chosen her for the task, considering her past transgressions. Was it to give her a chance at redemption? Or simply a further form of punishment? And what hand, she wondered, had Tyrande played in the decision? She left the Exodar with a promise of draenei aid for the cause… and a warning that Velen and his race would never trust her again.

All of this disapproval and strangeness… and now, Vereesa. The final stop on her trip. Jaina gave a knock at her chambers, having been assured by one of her attendants that she was within. At first, there was no response. Listening closely, Jaina could detect a faint, unsettling crackle from within.

“Vereesa?” Jaina called, knocking again, louder this time. She had her staff in hand and was clutching it tight. The door was unlocked, and opened inward at her touch. The room was lit with a purple hue, and Vereesa was facing away from her - staring into a warm hearth that cast her in silhouette. Far from, her former dress of ranger garb, Vereesa’s long silver hair was trailing down her back over the strap of a scant halter made of silks… and her round, perky ass-cheeks were swallowing a thong of the same material. Her breasts, far larger than they had been before Orath’s influence, could be seen even from directly behind her, spilling out each side of her slender ribcage, causing her top to strain. 

“Jaina,” Vereesa said, and her voice was filled with contempt. “I heard you were coming. That you were dispatched on Tyrande’s humiliating errand.” She turned to look over her shoulder.

“Andiun sent me,” Jaina corrected, gently. Vereesa made a skeptical noise, and Jaina stepped inside. “We have all suffered greatly-”

“Because of you. You built the army that turned us all into slaves and sex toilets.” It was clear that Vereesa, more than the others, was not letting Jaina off the hook.

“We were all part of the same atrocity,” Jaina said, looking at the floor. “All under the same sway-”

“But not all equally to blame,” Vereesa cut in. “And what now, Jaina?” She stood briskly and turned, walking over to face her counterpart as the fire crackled. She gestured from her own body to Jaina’s. “Our huge tits… our fat asses… these tits that barely fit on our bodies, these rumps that invite rape from every man who sees us… this is your doing.”

Jaina shut her eyes and dropped her head in a gesture of apology. “I have come to atone for what I did while under Orath’s control,” she said, for the tenth time in the last several days. “The Alliance can be what it once was. It can be rebuilt even stronger-”

SLAP! Vereesa’s hand flew and there was a sharp report against Jaina’s cheek. “You fucking whore,” she spat. “You call that an apology? Do you think meager words can serve as atonement for your crimes?”

Jaina clutched her staff tight as her cheek burned with the impact. It was in her instinct to defend herself; now set free from control, she had the autonomy to stop those who would strike her - very different from her broken-minded state, when she gladly accepted any and all abuse, and reveled in it. Still, something stopped her from responding harshly. Something she couldn’t quite identify. Instead, a second course of action seemed to float effortlessly to mind, unbidden and compulsive. The memory of Tyrande’s voice was clear as a bell:

“You will do whatever you must,” she had instructed, sitting next to Andiun in the throne room, “to convince them of your sincerity.”

“I will do whatever I must,” Jaina said, “to convince you of my sincerity.” And then, she knelt down in front of Vereesa and bowed her head.

At this, Vereesa first hesitated… then threw back her head and uttered a morbid laugh. “There are not enough years in your human life to fully atone. Have you still no grasp of the damage the hybrid army inflicted? Or perhaps you have seen it in your travels.”

Jaina thought of Gelbin’s dildo-shop, Greymane’s icy stare, and Moira’s acts of ‘contrition’. She said nothing. Vereesa gestured toward a door to one of the side-chambers. “I will show you,” she hissed. “You will see first-hand what you have done.” She raised her voice and beckoned. “Giramar! Galadin! Boys, come here!”

Jaina turned her head to look as, with the clattering of feet and a pubescent call of ‘yes, mother!’, the side-chamber door opened and twin half-elf boys, appearing in height and countenance to be teenagers, entered the room. They were dressed in identical leather boots, red tunic and deep blue pants; indeed, everything about them was near identical. Jaina had only heard of the children of Vereesa and Rhonin. Giramar was the more stoic, Galadin the more excitable, and beyond that quirk in personalities, no one could tell the difference. 

What handsome boys , Jaina thought, and immediately became self-conscious at the way their eyes were widening at her kneeling form. Being young, they were guileless in their interest as they scanned her round buttocks and the bulging shelf of her tits.

“That’s Miss Jaina!” Galadin blurted, eyes as big as saucers. “Mother, she’s the one who-”

Vereesa held up a hand, and Galadin fell silent. The boys stood about six feet from Jaina, unable to take their eyes off of her.

“My sons ,” Vereesa spat, frowning at Jaina. “The legacy of their late father.”

“They look well,” Jaina offered.

Vereesa snarled. “Ha! Well indeed. While I was enslaved by Orath, they were without their mother, and grew up exploring the debaucheries of the war!”

The twins blushed and looked down at their feet, sheepishly. They had red hair that feathered and swept around their faces, their skin was as fair and as smooth as their mother. In time they would grow to be as graceful and attractive as Arator, Vereesa’s nephew. Now, they still carried the shorter stature and slender physiques of youth.

Jaina rose to her feet, noting their eyes following her boobs and ass even as they hung their heads. She took a deep breath and addressed Vereesa again. “Then it is good that you are here now, to-”

“You know nothing!” Vereesa seethed, viciously. “Every day I change their bedcovers and have to cover my nose at the reek of semen. Their eyes wander over every female they see. Even me. I find my underclothes stained with their issue. And when I listen at their door I hear them enticing and exciting each other with fantastical stories of fucking!”

The boys were blushing redder than ever, and Jaina suddenly felt more vulnerable than ever. So they had been eyeing up her tits and ass! And the way Galadin had talked excitedly about her, she had no doubt he had heard the rumors of her deeds during the war-

“But you , most of all,” Vereesa went on. “They talk about you . Swapping tales deep into the night about your goblin zeppelin tits and your cocksucking mouth and your fat, pale, dick-swallowing ass! And how can I blame them, when the tale of your whorishness and betrayal is on the lips of everyone in Azeroth? It is by your hand that my precious sons have become debauched!” 

Jaina gasped in embarrassment at Vereesa’s tirade. “No!” she objected. “Surely, you see… Azeroth is healing, and-”

She was cut off as Vereesa shoved her roughly forward, toward the two boys. “Apologize,” ordered the icy-tongued high elf, with all the authority that had made her the leader of the Silver Covenant. “The youth of Azeroth… my boys… they are the ones victimized by your need for cock. So apologize to them for being such a whore!”

Jaina looked up from her hands and knees. The two boys were looking down at her nervously, their faces red with embarrassment… and perhaps more. Arousal! And did she detect a shape beneath the hanging lower edge of their red tunics?

This is madness , Jaina thought. Surely she doesn’t expect me to-

“Do it now,” Vereesa threatened. “Or the Silver Covenant’s door will be shut to Stormwind, and this foolish mission to Kul Tiras.”

Again, Tyrande’s instruction loomed in Jaina’s mind. That she should do whatever was necessary to secure support.

“I’m s-sorry,” she blurted. She had not even planned to say it. It just popped out of her mouth. It felt so wrong - so undignified - to be groveling and apologizing to two boys. Her crawling posture made her tits hang like a sow’s udders.

“Sorry for what?” prompted Vereesa. “Tell them!”

“For my misdeeds during the war.”

Vereesa’s tongue clicked. “You must be more specific,” she said. “Crawl to my sons. Caress them as you apologize.”

Caress them? Knowing it was strange, knowing her obedience felt ‘off’ in some way she couldn’t identify, Jaina nonetheless compelled. She looked pathetic as she moved forward and stopped right in front of the boys, caressing their thighs as she looked up with blue eyes that were filled with gorgeous blue eyes that were wet with shame.

“I’m sorry, boys,” she said. They looked down at her with the precocious, overflowing lust of inexperienced males being tended to by their first woman, and Jaina saw in their wide eyes a hint of what Vereesa had described. They want to fuck me , she realized. They want to do all the things to me that they’ve imagined. These boys, who should be having their first innocent kiss… but instead, they… they…

“Unbutton their trousers,” Vereesa ordered. She had come to kneel close to Jaina, her thong splitting the cheeks of her ass, her breasts hanging and bouncing in the silken top, a little bit see-through. It occurred to Jaina that this manner of dress was now comfortable to Vereesa, a compulsion she couldn’t shake. The scars of rape and sexual servitude were yet present on her, as well. “Let me show you what you’ve done.”

Jaina knew that she shouldn’t. To do so, even in pursuit of securing help for Anduin’s expedition, would be to backslide into the horrors of the war. And yet something compelled her. She told herself that no one would know, that it was for a greater good. That in time, such debaucheries would fade and all would be normal. The rationalizations came quick and dirty. 

That… and she wanted to. She wanted to unbutton those young boys’ trousers. Even if she couldn’t admit it. The memory of that need, the need to service cock, was etched into her wet, tingling cunt. With trembling hands, she reached out to their buttons and started to undo them, both at once. Girimar on the left, standing straighter. Galadin on the right, filled with nervous energy. And as she did her work, she felt something warm and heavy and thick, a weight of flesh that was satcheled inside, folding in on itself… and her eyes went wide.

“By the light!” she breathed, undoing the last button on each side. Two hairless, smooth penises emerged and poured over her wrists in their flaccidness before swinging down to dangle. Girimar with more than a foot of meat that was astoundingly thick… and Galadin slightly less girthy, but with an additional two inches in length, giving him fourteen. Each bulbous cocktip was leaking semen already, as if their overactive young balls were filled to the brim and overflowing. She reached inside and felt the warmth and weight of their nuts, pulling their sacks into the light, letting their testicles overspill her palms… and gasping at the sheer size.

Vereesa whispered viciously into Jaina’s ear as her sons bit their lips with unconcealed arousal, hands behind their backs. “Now you see,” she said. “What you did to my innocent boys. They were normal, before the war. Their interests were those of children, and the filth of Orath’s crusade was the furthest thing from their imaginations. And now…”

Her breath caught in her throat as she choked on her own rage. “...They think only of sex,” Vereesa finished. “And after so much masturbation, so much fucking of pillows and jerking off with stolen panties, of tempting each other with visions of your whorish ass, they have become twisted. Into this.”

Vereesa grabbed Jaina by her silver-blonde braid, drawing a yelp as she turned her face upward. “I would not subject an innocent woman to their needs. But you are not innocent, Jaina. And you will service my beautiful sons. That is the price for the Silver Covenant’s aid.”

You will do whatever it takes, Tyrande’s voice echoed in Jaina’s memory. Whatever. It. Takes.

Jaina’s hands moving to her the straps of her robe’s leather corset was all the answer that was needed. Making eye contact with the boys, still on her knees, she undid the buckles as they watched. After pulling the robe over her head and shaking her braid free, she was naked except for her thong and boots.

“Wow! They’re as big as the rumors said!” Galadrin burst out, staring at her white, pale, flawless tits. “I bet she could make our cocks disappear between those!”

“Her ass is bigger than we thought, too,” Girimar added. Both of their long, hanging penises were twitching and leaking. Jaina would smell the heady scent of their boyish seed. 

“Do you hear that, sow?” Vereesa hissed. “My sons like your tits and ass. So show them off. Shake your fat, round dumper for my kids. Get their young dicks hard, you stupid whore!” She gave Jaina a smack, spurring her into quicker obedience, and the archmage quickly rose and took up a back-arched, hands on knees position in front of the boys. Only the slender sliver of her thong’s bottom stopped her from completely exposing her asshole… and even that didn’t fully cover it up.

“Clap it!” Galadin said. “I heard the King of Stormwind loves it when you shake your huge ass? I want to see! It’ll be like we’re royalty!”

Jaina moaned with utter humiliation and started to shake her hips up and down. The sound was instant and loud, an obscene display of the proportions of her rape-changed body. After months and months of servicing dick, she had enough ass-meat to entice any horny male, sentient or animal. And now…

I’m bouncing my ass for a couple of cute young boys , Jaina lamented. Showing them my asshole and cunt! I’m such a whore… things were supposed to be different now… but… but… 

“Look!” Galadin crowed. “The insides of her thighs are wet! She likes it!”

“It’s like we heard,” Girimar replied. “No matter how you treat her, she’s always ready for it!”

Jaina moaned with humiliation. It was true - her pussy was soaked . Being made to twerk for Vereesa’s teen sons, despite the humiliation and inappropriate age difference, had returned her to a familiar and welcome sexual place - one of servitude.

“See? You’re not fooling anyone, you horny bitch,” Vereesa needled. “Your apology is counterfeit, but your body tells the truth. Orath’s stain is still on you.” She watched Jaina’s clapping, bouncing ass as it moved hypnotically.

WHOP WHOP WHOP WHOP WHOP WHOP . The sound of her cheeks separating and crashing back together was obscene, and Jaina looked back over her shoulder, licking her lips, gasping out hot breaths at the boys who were fisting their overflowing dicks. From Vereesa’s description, they were virgins… and this was their first up-close encounter with a woman. Their sacks looked heavy with seed, and so much cloudy pre-cum was leaking from their tips, it was like they were pissing.

“Go ahead, boys,” Vereesa purred. She had moved back to a chair and was reclining on it, legs splayed, with her agile hand drifting down between her legs. “I’ve heard you whispering about what you would do to this fat-assed whore. Slap your dicks on her. Beat your meat against those huge, pale cheeks!”

“Can we, mother?” Galadin confirmed, excitedly. His half-hard cock was in his small hand - he couldn’t even get his fingers all the way around it. His length was such that the inches that passed his encircling fist still drooped down. For Girimar, who was thicker, only two hands would do. 

“Jaina will enjoy it,” Vereesa said, viciously. “Won’t you, Jaina?”

Jaina, still twerking like a sow, moaned with humiliation. “Y-yes,” she gasped. “Please… do whatever you want to my ass.  I’ll… I’ll service your dicks with my body, however you like!”

The eager lads didn’t need to be told twice. With their wide eyes shrouded by all that wild red hair, they moved forward, Girimar to the left cheek, Galadin to the right. Together, they flopped their dicks down onto Jaina’s ass-mounds with a slapping noise that rang in unison, crying out in pleasure together.

“It’s so jiggly and soft!” Galadin blurted. His fat pisshole burst out with pre-cum that drizzled over Jaina’s ass-glove like a coating of syrup over stacked-up pancakes, and he nibbled his lip cutely as he lifted and slapped his cock against Jaina’s ass, again and again. Girimar matched the movement, thumping Jaina’s butt cheek with his fat hog, and sported an uncannily identical expression. The twin boys really were two of a kind, and nothing could contain their enthusiasm for living out the fantasies they’d shared on restless nights when Orath’s war was raging and Jaina, as his majordomo, was the talk of Azeroth.

Indeed, they were enjoying it a little too much! Perhaps because of their inexperience, the boys were clearly approaching climax with even this preliminary act of cock-slapping. “Ah!” Galadin moaned. “I’m gonna shoot!” His muscles seemed to stiffen in the lead-up to that act, and Vereesa called out to Jaina.

“Inattentive whore,” she scolded. “Spread your ass cheeks and beg for my boys’ cum, as befitting a proper service slut!”

“Y-yes!” Jaina gasped, bending over, arching her back, and reaching behind herself to spread her cheeks wide. It was utterly degrading to be posed so in front of two young boys, but she didn’t think about disobeying. She felt compelled, caught up in events that were beyond her strength to change. Anduin (through Tyrande) had decreed that she would secure the Silver Covenant’s aid, and this goal was all she could think about, in spite of any humiliation.

“Come on, boys,” she purred. “Cum on my fat ass. Pump your loads out over my shitter. Take a look… I’m spreading my cunt and ass for you to do anything you want!” Her cheeks were so bubbly and round that her fingers sank into them, digging furrows into the white flesh. The twins rubbed their dick tips against her flesh, prodding into her, even laying their thick fucklogs in the crack of her ass, letting her feel the vibration of their cum-choked urethras against her puffy, pink anus. In spite of herself, Jaina shuddered with pleasure as she became their plaything.

“I want to stick it inside!” Galadin declared, his voice strained in the final moments of an orgasm. He made a clumsy movement with his cock, but it slid off to the side and over her ass. “Oh… confound it!” He cried out and Jaina felt unspeakable warmth pour into her lower back and settle into the trough of muscle there - rope after rope of hot, white, gelatinous young semen. Giramar, also on the verge of cumming, tried to push his cock against the folds of her pussy… but in his haste it slid too slow, scraping unspeakably in the furrow of her fat labia, spraying out cum in thick, chunky ropes. In the end, they were all moaning together, and the boys settled for jerking off their big pricks into the crack of her ass, glazing her wobbling white butt-globes as she spread them whorishly.

Vereesa’s eyes were avid as she took in the spectacle. There could be no doubt that she enjoyed the sight of Jaina tending so lewdly to her sons; her fingers had wandered beneath the silk of her panties and were rutting there, rubbing just below the fine silver triangle of her pubic hair. As she watched, the twins’ copious ejaculations subsided and they collapsed to their knees, cocks still leaking. They had plastered Jaina’s ass, and much of the floor beneath her… and yet their balls still seemed swollen. She knew from experience that they could produce an unbelievable amount of cum, if their sperm-soaked bed sheets and saturated catch rags had been any indication.

“Do you like that, whore?” she hissed. “Do you like servicing my sons? Bouncing your ass for my big-dick boys?”

“Yes,” Jaina gasped. She had collapsed to her hands and knees as well - the boys’ big cocks sliding against her pussy, even without penetration, had brought her to a firecracker orgasm. “I’ve done as you asked… and-”

“Not so fast. Your task isn’t done yet,” Vereesa interjected.

“Yeah, we didn’t even get it inside before shooting off!” lamented Galadin, ever the loud one of the pair. His face was filled with regret. “I wanted to do way more stuff!” The boys were sporting identical expressions of blushing, panting post-orgasm frustration.

“There is still time for that, my child. Jaina will be your instructor. After all, who better to show you the many ways a woman can be conquered?” Vereesa raised a long, silky eyebrow at her boys. The two were already getting hard again - a short refractory period being one of the perks of their youth.

“Light help me…” Jaina whispered, as she turned and squatted, spread-thighed on the balls of her feet, in front of the boys. She reached out and started to jerk and milk their fat, hanging young prongs, pulling moans from their mouths and sprays of nectar-like pre-cum out of their tips. There were tears of shame in her blue eyes as she looked up at them. Her pussy was molten with desire for their big, teenage pricks; Tyrande’s ritual had cured her of her broken mind but not of her physical needs.

“You have such huge, amazing cocks,” Jaina praised, her eyes wet with tears of shame. “And such heavy balls.” Her hands caressed their smooth, fat nuts and downy pelvises, where the first thin red hairs were starting to show.

“It’s just like we heard… you even like doing it with boys our age, don’t you, Miss Jaina?” Galadin said, excitedly. He was nibbling his pert lip cutely as she jerked him.

“Yes,” Jaina moaned, shuddering with humiliation and arousal. “And from now on… Auntie Jaina will take care of you.” She leaned in and kissed the tip of Girimar’s thick penis, hollowing out her cheeks as she loudly slurped, causing the boy’s eyelids to flutter.

“She’s sucking the leftovers out of my pee-hole!” he winced.

Vereesa, now openly fingering herself with thighs splayed, sneered as Jaina did her work. “That’s it,” she hissed. “Get my sons hard. Show them how a true whore behaves, Jaina. Make sure they’re as rigid as iron when they finally plunge into your whore hole!”

Jaina did as she was told, and her oral attentions picked up speed as she moved back and forth between the twins, kissing, sucking, licking their balls with loud, obscene slurps. She even took them by their slender hips and turned them, spreading their cheeks and burying her tongue in their pink, untouched assholes, making their cocks rise to full mast as she licked out their bowels. All the while, they exclaimed to each other that the stories were true, that Jaina Proudmoore of the Alliance really did suck on cocks and really did kiss buttholes. By the time their anuses were spit-shined and their balls hung with ropes of saliva, their penises were hard as diamond, rising in gentle curves up past their belly-buttons, bobbing in mid-air.

When she saw this state, knowing they were ready, Jaina moved to lay on the floor like a prostitute, knees raised and thighs spread, beckoning the boys through the wicket of her knees and the wobbling mounds of her oversized tits. “Come here, boys,” she enticed, obviously aroused in spite of the tawdry proceedings. “Who wants to be first?”

“Me!”

Galadin, ever the brash one, ever the louder, raised his hand instantly, and he fumbled forward, down onto his knees, to slide into position. His slender, budding body was smaller than her adult one, which seemed pillowy and thick and matronly by comparison. The boy was pressing his cock down to aim the tip at her pussy, slipping and sliding off target again, when Jaina reached out and addressed him gently.

“You’re so big for your age, Galadin,” she breathed. “Just relax… you’re going to make me feel very good.”

“Even though you’ve been fucked by all sorts of huge dicks already?” the boy asked, pressing his knob against her slit. 

Jaina immediately blushed a deep red. “Y-yes. Your cock is… so long. It will… stir me up. And… make me into your woman.” There was no hiding the dick lust in her voice. Much as it was humiliating, she wanted it as well. “Fuck me, Galadin… use me as your whore! Please!”

“Ah! I’m… gonna do it!” the boy gasped, and shoved his hips forward once his cocktip was in place. Immediately, there was the meaty noise of Jaina’s channel parting to accept him, and the two of them, teacher and student, cried out in unison as his flange burrowed through her milking, textured passage and bumped up against her womb. He braced his hands on either side of her waist and started to thrust, irregularly at first, but with growing rhythm. The red hair on his head was bracketed on either side by Jaina’s breasts as he surfed and slid on her belly, and she reached down to caress and stroke him.

Soon, a plap plap plap noise could be heard as Galadin’s swinging, smooth balls were slapping up against Jaina’s asshole with each of his precocious movements. Vereesa was fingering herself and purring with pleasure as she watched, and Girimar, holding his thick cock with two hands, stood close by, waiting for his turn. Seeing this, Vereesa gestured for him to join in.

“You don’t have to wait for your brother to finish,” she said. “You can put it in her ass! I’ve heard you through the door, talking about it.”

Girimar blushed; he and his brother were indeed guilty of swapping theories about how much cock Jaina could take in her big, pale, commodious ass. He thought of asking permission, but his mother’s glare told him wordlessly that he need not - Jaina was a whore and could be used as he wished. And when he nudged his brother with a foot, telling him to turn sideways, Jaina helped facilitate the change in position. 

Instead of being flat on her back, Jaina rolled over to one side, placing one of her hips on the floor and arching the knee of her higher leg. She did this all with Galadin’s penis inside her; her larger size made it a relatively simple matter to move the boy and give his twin access to her asshole.”Go ahead,” she moaned, her voice warbling with the impact of Galadin’s dick on her cervix. “Shove it in, Giramar… join your brother!” The way she lifted her thick ass-cheek to show the boy her pink, puffy, cock-hungry asshole was obscene, and her heavy butt-mounds seemed to devour him as he laid down behind her and wiggled his hips, wedging his cocktip between.

Jaina gritted her teeth as she felt the stoic boy’s cum-greased knob pry her anus open. “By the Light… you’re thick!” she grunted. Giramar showed the same cute, lip-biting earnestness in pressing into her ass as Galadin was showing in her pussy; the boys were clinging to her waist with encircling arms in a sort of double hug as they thrust their slender hips. Shortly, the squelching noises of penetration filled the room.

“It’s so wet and warm!” Girimar gasped. “Just like I imagined!” He held her more tightly, still pressing. He’d only inserted about three-fourths of his length, now he grunted with exertion and shoved until he was balls deep, his sweaty pelvis pressed flush against her buttocks. Jaina lifted her top leg to give the boys access; the angle was such that Vereesa could see both cocks as they entered Jaina’s holes, so close they were nearly touching, the membrane between them only a thin, pale line. 

“I want to kiss you!” Galadin said, looking at Jaina earnestly. His face was tucked between her boobs. Jaina turned her face away. Though the two twins were rioting in her flesh with their long pipes, the thought of sharing intimate kisses with them seemed somehow more obscene. But Vereesa noted her hesitation, and spoke up loudly from her chair.

“Do as my son says, service whore!” she ordered. “Make out with him! Kiss Galadin as you would Prince Anduin!” And to drive the point home, she walked over and took hold of Jaina’s hair, pushing her head down, allowing Galadin to shimmy up, cock still lodged, and stick his tongue into her mouth. 

Jaina felt dazed. Galadin’s long dick was mashing her pussy, and Girimar’s thickness was stretching her ass open. Their fat balls were actually banging into each other as they swung their hips in unison. In the midst of this rut she instinctively welcomed the boy’s tongue, sucking it, letting it explore her. The kiss was wet and artless, and yet she met it with obscene passion, making out with the boy as if it were their wedding night, much to Vereesa’s approval. She even used her arms to caress the boy’s supple body and cup his young ass.

“That’s it,” Vereesa purred, intently. “You son-sucking whore. My boys had grown so unruly, I was planning on buying them a prostitute to vent their desires. But this is a much better solution. You are sluttier than any prostitute.”

Jaina groaned as the kiss broke and gossamer lines of saliva glittered between their mouths before snapping. She was soaked in sweat and her hair had become disheveled from the fucking and oral sex… and the boys were still thrusting into her holes with all the vigor of their tender years. Her eyes rolled back slightly and she shuddered to climax. Vereesa sneered with delight.

“Are my boys making you cum? They’re quite talented, aren’t they?”

“Yes!” Jaina gasped.

“You can say it better than that!” Vereesa barked. 

“Your sons… are making me cum… with their big… fucking cocks!” Jaina warbled, her voice vibrating with the fleshy impacts of cock in her holes. Vereesa threw back her head and laughed.

“Get on top of him, prostitute,” Vereesa went on, gesturing toward Galadin. “I want to see you ride that cock. Show us all how a whore takes care of a young dick!”

Taking direction from their mother, the twins moved with Jaina to facilitate the new position - Galadin on the bottom, his long, heavy cock jutting upward, and Jaina, bow-legged and lewd, sinking down onto it as she looked down at him with obscene lust, her pale tits hanging like sow udders. She groaned out like an animal as inch after inch of prick re-entered her sopping hole, sinking all the way down to the boy’s base, all but enveloping his smaller body with her matronly curves. As her fat cunt lips settled around his pipe, a squirt of pussy juice splattered all over his balls.

“Hnnnngh,” groaned Jaina, putting her arms behind her head, showing off her huge tits, shaved cunt and huge tits. “Your sons have such huge elekk cocks!” She was balanced on the balls of her feet in an obscene squat that would have put the most debauched shal’dorei dancing girls to shame. A small bulge in the shape of Galadin’s long dick was showing in her abdomen, just above her navel.

“That’s right,” Vereesa purred, crossing her arms. “Now, get down on all fours, so my other boy can rape your worthless shithole!”

Jaina was too far gone to disobey or even hesitate. She tilted forward, her huge breasts swallowing up Galadin’s face in comical fashion, while the other twin positioned his cock between her ass cheeks. Taking a grip on her curvy hips, and utterly a youthful gasp, he rammed it home, causing Jaina’s eyes to immediately roll upward at the brutal thickness in her bowels.

In this position- with Galadin laying and Girimar standing, the boys proceeded to wear out her holes. Jaina rode Galadin with grinding, rhythmic hip movements as he sucked her tits and Girimar pumped her ass. There was no sound heard for minutes on end but the slapping of flesh on flesh, and Vereesa voyeuristically took in every detail as her fingering grew more and more overt and her breathing ragged with arousal.

“That’s it,” she seethed at Jaina, eyes shut, palm rubbing her cunt mound just inches from the archmage's face. “Fuck my sons. Satisfy my boys like the whore you are. You love it, don’t you?” She slapped Jaina’s cheek. “Tell me!”

“Yessss!” Jaina groaned, her eyes rolling back and a pleasure-addled smile on her face. “I love fucking your kids! I’ll bend over for them any time! I love to suck and fuck their big dicks, letting them stir up my guts and tear open my shithole!”

“You filthy whore!” Vereesa stepped forward and fed her soaking, steaming cunt box directly into Jaina’s mouth, pressing it hard such that her labia smooshed around Jaina’s lips. “Lick my cunt while you take care of my sons! Suck my slit! Slurp out the cunt that gave birth to these big-dick boys!”

Jaina did, moaning wantonly as she licked Vereesa’s pussy, sucking on her labia, kissing and licking around her clit, burying her nose in the prim triangular tuft of pubic hair above. Vereesa was clearly enjoying grinding her box on Jaina’s face, too, shutting her eyes and gasping with pleasure, before turning around and letting Jaina take another angle, backing her pert, bubbly high-elf butt into her face.

“Look, Galadin! Girimar! Look at her licking my pussy! This isn’t the first time she’s done this to a Windrunner… and it won’t be the last!” Vereesa groaned and arched her back, thrusting her toned bottom into Jaina’s nose and mouth, while all the while her sons were thrusting away. “Ah! Her whore tongue feels so good!”

Galadin looked strained in his bottom position, looking nearly straight up into the view of Jaina felching his mother’s ass. “Mother!” he gasped. “I’m… going to shoot off again! Her insides are… so wet and warm!”

“Me… too!” Girimar trembled, his gripping hands trembling on Jaina’s hips. “It’s like her butt is sucking on my dick!”

Vereesa’s eyes blazed. “Do you hear that, bitch? My beautiful, strong sons are going to fill you with cum. You’re going to be their personal sex toilet from now on, is that clear? At my whim, you will fly from Dalaran, or Stormwind, or whatever alley you’re sucking cock in, and crawl to the bedsides! And you’ll use that cistern of a body to absorb the darkness you’ve planted inside them! They will not become rapists, as your master was… except in the case of you! All of their impure thoughts will be flushed into your worthless… sewer… cunt!”

Her words grew more and more uneven during her diatribe, and at the end, Vereesa’s mouth opened into a groan of pleasure as she squirted all over Jaina’s face, completely drenching her and causing the spray to splatter all over her face, shoulders, and chin. As one beast with flailing appendages and huffing breaths, they all climaxed together. Galadin’s backed-up balls, excited to overfilling with those endless fantasies of Jaina, now delivered their payload directly into her womb, filling it to the brim with gooey, white spunk. His brother did the same to her ass, pumping it to overflowing, such that spurts of semen splattered back out around his shaft and balls. Jaina’s orgasm was overpowering; a physical memory reawakened, a door reopened that she’d wanted to see shut. Being abused felt so good . And in that moment, as her climax tore through her and shredded her willpower to tatters, she longed for times past, when the procession of dicks had been endless and their size grotesque.

“Ughhh!” the twins wailed, thrusting their slender hips as they ejaculated again and again. “Ughh! Ahhh!” Only the volume of gasping in the room could drown out the spurting, splurging noises of virile jizz-ropes erupting from their throbbing cocktips. Vereesa reached behind herself to hold Jaina’s head fast as she hosed down her face with squirt, and as a family, they marked their territory thoroughly, defiling her with copious emissions, until they were spent and collapsed. Veresa fell to her knees, Jaina forward onto Galadin (who was in danger of suffocating in her boobs, much to his delight), and Girimar onto Jaina’s back, cock still lodged and twitching in her stretched-open ass.

There was silence for a time. Vereesa was first to move, crawling to a writing desk by the window and rising to her knees to scrawl a few brief words, and mark it with the seal of the Silver Covenant. Placing the parchment in a scroll-case emblazoned with the blue orb of her faction, she tossed it to Jaina, letting it roll to a stop next to her face. She did not need to explain what it was; Jaina, looking up wearily, already knew. The signed declaration committing forces to Kul Tiras - the very reason Anduin had sent her on this mission.

She reached out to grasp it with one trembling hand.

“We will see if they welcome us,” Vereesa said, staring Jaina down. “Or if they turn us away. For Stormwind isn’t the first nation you’ve betrayed, is it, Lady Proudmoore?”

Jaina swallowed thickly. “I betrayed no one,” she said, and then Girimar’s cock twitched in her ass and she moaned. 

She told herself that her father’s death had been a necessity, and Orath’s rise an unfortunate mistake.

She almost believed it.

The throne room was empty.

Instead of King Anduin and Lady Tyrande, Jaina (who had taken a suitable period of time to collect herself, dress, and clean her body of an enormous amount of cum) found only a guardsman, who seemed to be expecting her. The sheepish look he gave her made her wonder if he had been one of the ones in charge of securing her in the Stockade.

“Lady Proudmoore,” he said, standing at attention. “The Queen asks that you instead present the findings of your diplomatic mission in the royal bedchambers.” 

Jaina didn’t bother asking Tyrande’s reasons, and proceeded deeper into the castle to the rooms reserved for the king and queen. She had been inside them many times when she was Anduin’s advisor and lover; and now felt a pang of jealousy that it was Tyrande inhabiting them instead… and then, a strange aversion.

I must not desire Anduin , she thought. He is off limits.

The notion came from nowhere, and hit her with such force that she nearly stumbled. She paused outside the chamber door, carrying her staff, and a satchel of missives from the various dignitaries she’d visited. 

Why must I not? Where did that thought come from? The unsettling feeling that Anduin was forbidden territory remained. And then a voice, not imagined but real:

“Come in, Jaina. My ears are keen, you know.” Tyrande. That regal voice… sounding a little out-of-breath, actually. 

Jaina opened the door, and was confronted immediately by the sight of Anduin and Tyrande, on the bed… with the night elf lifting and dropping her bubble ass on Anduin’s cock!

Squelch-slap. Squelch-slap. Jaina could hear Anduin’s girth ratcheting open Tyrande’s wet, cock-devouring butthole with each drop of her curvy hips. She was expertly dick-riding her king, and her balloon-round ass-globes were slapping together as well as clapping down on Anduin’s thighs. Her white thong leotard was pulled to the side to grant his cock passage, and the straps fallen from her shoulders to reveal her perfectly muscled, athletic back.

Tyrande looked over her shoulder, brushing away a swathe of verdant green hair, and beheld Jaina with the black eyes of the Night Whore. She flashed a dominating smile. Jaina, taken aback, said nothing. And for his part, Anduin’s look was sheepish and guilty, as if he regretted that Jaina was being confronted by the spectacle. Nonetheless, he wasn’t exactly an unwilling participant, either. Tyrande’s massive tits were bouncing in front of his face, and he had two handfuls of her titflesh as she rode him.

“I’m sorry, Jaina,” Anduin said. “Tyrande’s transformation into the Night Whore… it came with… certain needs. But it was only with this power that we could save you-”

Tyrande was much less diplomatic. “There is no need to explain it to her,” she said, in her regal accent. “Jaina knows all too well. What was exigent in wartime… leaves certain appetites behind.” Plap. Plap. Plap. Her bubble butt bounced and clapped, Jaina could see a haze of sweat spray up with each movement. She addressed Jaina. “You discovered as much in Dalaran, did she not?”

Instantly, Jaina wondered if she had been followed on her quest, and her activities observed. Thinking back, Tyrande had been rather cold and dismissive while giving her instructions. Jaina wondered if it had been the night elf’s plan all along to see Jaina abused by those she’d been ordered to recruit. Maybe so. Probably so. Her hand tightened on her staff.

“Give your report!” Tyrande ordered, not stopping her plunging, clapping cock ride. Jaina closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, but her obedience again came with surprising, suspicious compulsion. 

“I… achieved my mission-”

“Come closer so we may hear!”

Jaina grimaced. To force her to be at Anduin’s bedside, and watch Tyrande’s fat bubble ass milking his cock… it seems like such a territorial act by the queen! A further humiliation in a day with many of them! And wasn’t the purpose of her cleansing to regain her mind? And some semblance of dignity? Then why-

“Hurry! And kneel before your king!”

Light save her, she did. She hurried , in response to Tyrande’s voice, which came as one might beckon a hunting hound or some other pet. And when she gave her report, and delivered the scroll case with the gathered writs that proved the cooperation of the Alliance leaders and luminaries, she did so over the noise of Tyrande’s labored fuck-noises… and the squelching sound of her asshole stretching around Anduin’s girth. His thick penis was as beautiful as she remembered it… and was only a couple of feet away.

Anduin responded to her report with praise, but it fell hollow on Jaina’s ears, for every fourth word was interrupted by soft moans as Tyrande bounced harder on his pipe and drove it deeper into her bowels. Instead of commending her service, Anduin was clearly on the verge of cumming… and Tyrande knew it, flashing Jaina a devilish grin full of huntress’ teeth.

Jaina now knew it for sure. The entire mission had been meant to show her her new place . 

“Tyrande,” Anduin grunted, looking boyish as he always did during orgasm, even with a few fair whiskers on his chin. “I’m going to… I can’t help it… your ass-”

“Do it, my king,” Tyrande purred, not breaking eye contact with Jaina. “Pour your thick, hot load into my asshole. And Jaina will watch.”

Jaina blushed with anger and humiliation. Anduin gasped out and bucked his hips, Tyrande sank all the way down with one final, cataclysmic booty clap. Then, the sounds of thick, chunky semen flooding Tyrande’s shitpipe, bubbling out of Anduin’s dilated pisshole in fat ropes. Tyrande groaned and held her belly with one hand as she felt her shitter get indecently filled by the virile boy-king. “Fuuuuck!” she gasped. “You have so much cum in your balls… and it’s so thick!” Glancing at Jaina, she added. “Do you see? It’s such a huge amount… it’s like he’s pissing jelly inside my ass!” She reached behind herself to fondle Anduin’s balls. “What a stud! But you remember, don’t you Jaina?”

She did remember. And now, she trembled with a mix of need and impotent anger, as it seemed to be Tyrande’s pleasure to tease. The Night Whore slowly lifted her ass off of Anduin’s cock with a wet schlorp, pulling out inch after inch, until it flopped down fat and happy onto his belly. Jaina expected to see a thick creampie follow this exit, but Tyrande clenched her anus tight and tipped Jaina a wink before sealing her hole with a jeweled plug.

“Sending you as diplomat was both penance… and a test,” Tyrande explained, rolling over onto her front. Her tits piled up beneath her, squishing down onto wide discs, while her rump bubbled up in twin half-moons. “To see if you could remain… in control. And indulge that needy pussy of yours only when bidden with a task.”

She took Anduin’s softening cock into her mouth and started to throat it, gagging and choking like a whore just a few feet from Jaina’s jealous, blushing face. Making him moan. Getting him hard again. This went on for more than a minute, and then she bid him roll on top of her. “Violate my pussy this time, my king,” she asked him. “Pump another load into me.” 

Anduin hesitated, giving Jaina a sympathetic look, but Tyrande insisted, and when she spoke to Jaina again, it was through the wind-knocked gasps of Anduin’s dick punching into her asshole once more, churning up her already cum-slick hole. Now it was clear that Tyrande was making a point of showing Jaina every detail of their tawdry sex. A lesson . 

“Do you wish… to have… Anduin’s cum… again?” Tyrande grunted. The squelching sounds of her bowels being torn up were an obscenity; Anduin was pressed flush against her back, grinding his cock deep in her anus. 

Jaina said nothing, but her blushing face grew redder.

“Answer me!”

“Yes!” Jaina burst out, tears in her eyes. “You know I do, damn you!”

“Then you shall have it,” Tyrande said. “If you can show the proper restraint- nnngh! Fuck, he’s stirring me up!” She bit her plump, inflated lip with pleasure that made Jaina hot with jealousy. “Remove your clothes, and come into our bed. Your queen commands it!”

Jaina did, no longer questioning why it felt imperative to follow Tyrande’s orders to the letter, only pathetically relieved to be allowed to possibly interact with Anduin again. She removed her robe to reveal her pale body, shapely curved, and huge tits, as well as the thick bubble of her ass, the cheeks swallowing up her thong. This, along with her boots, was next. Then, she climbed onto the large and ornate bed, sitting on one hip, just inches away from the rutting, groaning bodies of the king and queen.

“Lay down,” Tyrande ordered. Jaina did so, lying parallel to the two of them. The mattress was large, befitting a royal couple, and so there was plenty of room. But Tyrande wasn’t content to simply let Jaina observe from her low, adjacent vantage. After a few more strokes, she rose, pushing Anduin away… and moved into a sixty-nine position with Jaina, swinging one athletic thigh over her head to straddle her face with spread knees. “Do not move.”

Jaina moaned with humiliation as Tyrande beckoned Anduin to reinsert his cock, giving the archmage an up-close, submissive view from beneath. His bulbous prick tip spread Tyrande wet cunt flaps and buried itself deep, and pussy juice splattered down on Jaina’s helpless face. She had thought that her penance was limited to the cold and perverse measures of revenge she’d encountered in her trip; now she knew that the most intense punishment had been saved for “home”. 

More than anyone, except perhaps Sylvanas, Tyrande had reason to hold a grudge.

“Take a look, Jaina,” Tyrande purred, as Anduin’s cock sliced up her cunt. “I alone will have the pleasure of Anduin’s thick cock from now on. I will fuck and suck him every night and leave the mark of my wet pussy on his prick. And if you are ever again blessed with the gift of sucking the king’s cock, you will taste my cunt on it when you do so!” She groaned with pleasure as a hot stream of her lube splattered directly into Jaina’s face. “Say ‘yes, my queen!’ if you understand!”

“Yes, my queen!” Jaina groaned.

“I know you want to finger your pussy, or lick Anduin’s balls,” Tyrande said, as she arched her back and let Anduin grab her hips and pound into her faster and faster. “But I forbid it. You are only to watch!” Jaina whimpered; she was humiliated, cuckqueaned, denied the feeling of fullness and intimacy she’d once enjoyed with the boy king, and now denied even the meager scraps of masturbation. She squirmed beneath them in frustration as she watched Tyrande’s thick, puffy cunt lips suck get spread by Andiun’s girth.

She desperately wanted to give in. To toss aside pride and dignity and crane her shapely neck up to lap at Tyrande’s clit, lick Anduin’s balls and ass. She wanted to bury her fingers in her molten, lusty cunt as she was abused and treated like shit. But she found she could not disobey Tyrande. This dog-like servility disgusted her, but it was reality all the same. She could only watch and whimper as spurts of cunt lube splattered her face, glazing it. She watched Anduin’s cock tear up Tyrande’s pussy, she extended her tongue like a sow to catch the sweat from his bouncing, swaying balls.

“Fuck,” Anduin moaned. In the throes of ecstasy, he had given up trying to defuse the rivalry between the two women; Tyrande had convinced him that Jaina must be ‘tested’ for true obedience to the crown of Stormwind.  “Tyrande… your pussy… it’s so wet and tight… it’s like it’s sucking my dick off! I’m going to cum again!” 

“Shoot it into my ass again!” Tyrande groaned. “Let her see you fill me up!” And just as Anduin withdrew his spurting prick, she reached behind herself and pulled the jeweled plug from her anus, letting it be replaced nearly instantly with her consort’s thick rod. 

“Fuck… you’re already so full!” Anduin groaned. “I can feel it!”

“Dump that huge load up my ass, my king!” Tyrande cried out, orgasming herself. “Pump that nut up my shitter while you make my cheeks applaud your prowess!”

“Fuuuuck!” Anduin took a tight grip and rammed quickly and artlessly into Tyrande’s butt, producing the very sound that the Night Whore had alluded to. Beneath, a part of Jaina wanted more than anything to close her eyes… but Tyrande had ordered her to watch, and she did. Besides, another part - a base, submissive, broken part, wanted to lap up whatever scraps of Anduin’s intimacy she was permitted. Seeing that big, thick penis again, with its veins and bulging piss pipe, contours she remembered, even burrowing into the ass of another… 

SPLRRRRRT. SPLOOOOORT. SPLRRRGGG . Jaina saw Anduin’s piss-pipe bulge and flex and his testicles draw up close to the base of his cock, twitching there with each expulsion of semen. Amazingly, his ejaculation seemed even more copious than the first, and Tyrande held a hand to her belly as the hot jizz flooded her bowels for a second time, adding to what was there.

It was her hope that, once Anduin was spent, Tyrande might permit her to suck his flaccid cock, and enjoy the dregs of semen still in his piss-pipe. But it became clear she had something else in mind. When his cock was withdrawn from her ass, Anduin slumped back onto the bed, exhausted. Tyrande, however, remained in position, and then took up a squatting position over Jaina’s face, using one hand to help seal her overflowing asshole shut. 

“I said you would be permitted Anduin’s cum,” she explained to Jaina. “And I spoke the truth. But never from Anduin’s cock - not anymore. From now on, you may drink only what you can felch out of my ass!” Her face twisted into a gaze of dominant triumph.

Jaina’s face reddened. “P-please…” she begged. “It's.. too humiliating! Is it not enough that you took Anduin as your lover… that you tasked me to travel to all corners of the Alliance and grovel-”

Tyrande’s only response was to reach down and lewdly spread her cheeks, spreading those bubbly ass-globes wide, giving Jaina access to her leaking, full-to-bursting starfish. It was only a slightly darker shade than the rest of her lavender skin. “Suck the cum out of my shitpipe, bitch,” she seethed, and then dropped her hips and settled onto Jaina’s face.

Jaina moaned in utter defeat. For as soul-destroying as the instruction was, her body obeyed. She started to suck and lick at Tyrande’s puffy anus, then darted her tongue inside, immediately encountering a reservoir of hot, gelatinous semen. 

Anduin’s cum , she thought. And that desperate need drove her tongue deeper and her fingers into her cunt, in spite of her destroyed pride. She did not spare any bit of her dignity in servicing Tyrande, instead burning it as she slurped and sucked and cleaned the bumpy walls of the night elf’s bowels, swallowing gobs of semen as she did so. Her throat worked as she downed one mouthful and returned to work. Tyrande wiggled her ass on Jaina’s face, smiling viciously.

“That’s it,” she purred. “You’re such a good ass-sucker! How do you like Anduin’s cum with a nice taste of my shit? From now on, I’ll sit on your face whenever I want, and if you beg, I might allow you to eat his loads out of my ass and cunt, or lick them from the floor! And when they see you kneeling and at my command, all who were reticent will know you are under control… and that the Alliance has strong leadership again.”

“Tyrande-” Anduin interjected, his face mournful. “This is too-” 

But she held up a hand and shushed him instantly. “God, she’s sucking out my ass. She’s burying her tongue as deep as it can go, just to get a taste of your load! What a pig !” Tyrande lifted her ass a little, and Jaina craned her neck upward, mouth open. 

BRRRMMPPPPTTHT! The air filled with cum stench as Tyrande unloaded a thick cum fart directly into Jaina’s mouth. “Nnngh, fuck, that felt good… I have so much cum up my ass!” She collapsed back down, smothing Jaina between her cheeks, forcing her anus up against the archmage’s eager mouth… and let loose another liquid-sounding cum spray, filling Jaina’s mouth to the brim. 

Jaina could barely think, could do nothing but obey and act as a receptacle. At some point, her tongue sore from slurping and her throat slick with sperm, after a dozen swallows, she fingered herself to a degrading, submissive climax that all but snuffed the shred of her self-worth. In that moment, she accepted being Tyrande’s cum toilet, accepting slurping sperm from her bowels every day for the rest of her life. It was the giving up that drove her over the edge.

“She’s cumming from sucking sperm out of my asshole,” Tyrande crowed. “Just as I knew she would.” She gritted her teeth and forced some of the thicker sperm out of her anus and into Jaina’s mouth, filling it again, reveling in the glugging sound of Jaina swallowing it down. It felt very good. Jaina was a good ass-licker, and those talents and others could be brought to bear for the greater good… with proper ‘supervision’.

“You will go to Kul Tiras,” Tyrande breathed, “with no illusions about your place, and who you serve.” And with that, she stood up, squatted, and grunted, pulling apart her round ass-cheeks to unload a hot torrent of sperm from deep in her ass-pipe, covering Jaina’s face with it, obliterating her features and leaving only a bubbling white mask.

Jaina was not the only one with an interest in the future of the realm. Deep within the pelagic chambers of the Eternal Palace, a thousand leagues under the sea, the goings-on of Azeroth’s were tracked by watery scrying portals, showing images of the surface world as the many-armed Naga Queen dictated with her boundless magic.

Azshara. She had once been Queen of the Night Elves, born with golden eyes, and a great destiny. Her ancient fall from grace was a legend known by all, but they knew little of the limitless debauchery of her high court… and nothing of the dark, forbidden whispers that had emanated from the lightless trenches as she sank to the oily bottom. Whispers that had told her that a new Age of Pleasure was at hand. 

The whispers from the inky blackness had foretold of the coming of catalysts; exemplars of sex that would usher in a return to the old ways, when she had been fucked for hours every day and had sperm felched out of her holes by concubines when all was done, when she had consumed sperm as readily as the finest wine. Though her form had changed, the memory of the monstrous demon dicks she’d invited into her bedchamber seemed always to linger. 

This day, Azshara was scrying three individuals in particular, all who had a role to play. Tyrande, the statuesque and amazonian kal’dorei, who had endured a breaking and rape at the hands of the Kil’Kron orcs. Before even that indignity, however, Tyrande had been her subject… and one of the great beauties of the kingdom. She had taken the young huntress into her bed personally; she had been the one who had taught Tyrande to lick cunt and take the monstrous dicks of her hung, noble consorts.

Then there was Sylvanas, the tortured banshee queen, whose life of sorrow had left her appetites as black as deep fathoms. Azshara could sense a need for revenge in her, a desire to humiliate her enemies that she knew well. There could be no greater agent of chaos than such a ruthless being, and Azshara delighted herself in imagining the havoc they could wreak with Sylvanas as her trusted (and submissive) sex soldier.

And Jaina, the newcomer, a human. Azshara had thought that the seed of abuse and rape required to become a catalyst would only gestate in the longer-lived races. But in a relatively short time, this Jaina Proudmoore had been violated enough, and sated her limitless lust in such foul ways, that she was perhaps the most promising of the three. 

“There is something within her,” Azshara’s voice echoed, as she watched Jaina silently collect herself, her belly still full of the kingsperm she’d sucked out of Tyrande’s shitpipe. “A dark destiny that drives events to be a whirlpool, with her at the center.” She imagined what it would be like to have Jaina at her command, fisting and abusing and face-sitting her with her kal’dorei form’s ample ass. Taking Jaina’s power for her own. Making her an apprentice, a servant, her representative on the surface.

“It will come to pass,” she purred, and then laughed darkly.

She looked away to an elaborate canopied bed. As it happened, her scrying chamber was also a sleeping chamber. There, chest rising and falling, lay in stasis the one who she considered to be the first catalyst. The harbinger. Orath. He was nude and his peerless body was chiseled and sculpted; even divorced from her prior form, Azshara couldn’t help but admire those muscles… and that enormous, coiled-up penis. Though her rescued prize was still regaining his strength, in a sort of unconscious regenerative state, she occasionally transmogrified herself into her prior kal’dorei form, just so she could stretch her jaw and cunt with his penis. Drinking and filling her womb with his massive, thick ejaculations had become a nightly ritual… part of the restorative process. 

It was all part of the plan. She, too, had her master - N’Zoth. And though the Old God’s purposes were unknown even to her, it was to his advantage for her to encourage Azeroth once again to become a land of pleasure and sex slavery.

“I will be queen again,” she laughed, eyeing Orath’s fat, dormant cock. “Things are about to become very interesting.” 

Chapter Text

Ahoy, ahoy, sweet daughter of the seas

Ahoy, this child be mine

The Admiral’s girl, his whole entire world

As long as stars do shine

Jaina heard the familiar song as she was writing in her quarters, sending word of her impending arrival to King Anduin, who was back in Stormwind. She had been tasked with bringing Kul Tiras into the fold, being connected by blood to the Proudmoore Admiralty… and this tune, from her childhood, was drifting from the adjacent room in the combined voices of a young girl and an older man.

Not knowing what to think, aching from the way she recognized every note, Jaina rose. The anchor pendant around her neck hung down into her cleavage, which was too enormous to hide, even as she had tried to dress more modestly in every other area, in some aspects more successfully than others. She now wore the robe and leather-clasped bodice that would become her trademark, but there was no hiding the fat fuck-jugs that bulged in front… or the bulbous twin globes that bounced behind.

Who was singing? There were no children aboard ship. And certainly no man or child in the adjoining room of her quarters. Walking across the room, her heels seemed to echo on the floorboards as creaking timber and roiling waves fell away to the clarity of the song. She pushed the door open… and then she saw it.

A man in an admiral’s coat, embracing a tiny blonde girl. The girl could only be her. And the man could only be her father, Daelin Proudmoore. Jaina’s breath caught in her throat. As she watched, tears in her eyes, the apparition of her former self kissed the man on the cheek and ran away up the stairs, soliciting a promise that he ‘come home safe’. But of course, he hadn’t… and it had been because of her.

“Father…” she trembled… and the man turned halfway toward her.

“Jaina, my daughter,” he said. Yet as he continued to turn, the flesh of his face was gradually revealed to be a brine-sunken ruin on one side, the empty eye-socket yawning, the jaw slack. A dead man. All filial love vanished from his countenance and he snarled. And in that undead grimace she still sensed his disappointment and disgust at what a disloyal whore she’d been.

 “Your mother will never be forgiven for your crimes… you fat-assed cum dump!”

Then an echo… of deep and pelagic female laughter, and her vision swam. Through an inky lens she saw the numberless crimes that she’d been party to, each image a forced and unwilling recollection no less a violation than her captivity in Orgrimmar. The colors swam like tides and formed images. There was the cell below Orgrimmar, where the Alliance scout team had been captured and tasked with fucking her. The looks on their faces - the betrayal they’d felt to learn that she was not the mighty Kirin Tor hero of the Alliance but just a toilet whore with a blown out, gang-raped fuckbox that could take their arms past the elbow - were instantly recognizable. The honorable Galant Tarley, not so honorable in the end when he had spit in her face while she tongued his balls. The grizzled Ox Greyson, who had pissed out the last of his loyalty over her face as she begged him to do it. The young and bright-eyed recruit Keegan, who had lost all his illusions of Alliance honor and womanhood as she rode his cock and dropped her thick, plapping ass-globes on his abs and scolded him for not being as hung as her abomination boyfriend.

“You’re a whore,” Tarley’s voice echoed in her dream. “Who should be raped to death!” His eyes were blank with disgust.

“We died because of you!” the image of Keegan wailed, his wide blue eyes trembling in their sockets, just before dissolution. “Because you’re so disgusting, Lady Jaina! Just a fat-assed whore!” Yes, at Sylvanas’ hand. He and the others fell away to ash, as they had when the Dark Lady destroyed them with magic, saving Jaina’s life when they intended to end it out of a sense of honor, not suffering such a toilet whore to live and shame the Alliance further.

The dream-vision swam and reformed, a hulking and stitched-together brute appeared. “GRUNDLE FUCK!” the misshapen hulk bellowed, sounding cheerful in spite of his intent, as he always had. Jaina felt sick shame overwhelm her anew. Gods, she had loved his huge, mutated penis! For weeks in Orgrimmar she had serviced his gray and stitch-crossed meat pole, three feet long, for Sylvanas’ amusement. Even beset by this apparition, her mind could recall the stench of that cock, and the churning testicles that were each the side of his head. She had disgraced herself completely, spreading her cheeks and shitting out massive loads of the foul fleshbeast’s near-solid cum… having orgasm after orgasm while doing so. “GRUNDLE NEVER FORGIVE!” the brainless beast gurgled. “AZEROTH NEVER FORGIVE!”

And then he exploded, dissolving as the prior image had, a reminder that Grundle, too, had been destroyed by Sylvanas as a result of Jaina’s manipulations and the Dark Lady’s jealous and vicious sexual greed. Sylvanas, and Orath both - was she destined only to fall under the sway of powerful beings, and deliver others to their debauched end?

Was her body made for it? Was she made for it?

These questions, floating in the fathoms that now drowned her mind. The colors coalesced into another vision - her dog-raped figure stumbling back into Stormwind, hardening the cocks of the Alliance into vengeful, iron bars as they saw the amount of loads she’d had pumped inside her, before being freed and returned. These men - Alliance soldiers en masse - spoke to her, without an ounce of restraint in their echoing voices, as she watched, their eyes seemed to glow reddish purpose with amoral intent. “We will rape Horde whores in your name,” came their growls. “Rape. Rape. Rape! It is your fault, the darkness in my heart. It is your fault, what I have become. The villainy you showed to us… we now march forth to deliver back!”

She saw what would result - the dream showed it to her. Orc and sin’dorei women, gang-raped by Alliance patrols. Forced to suck and fuck the mounts of Stormwind knights. Goblins with colorful pigtails used as dick sleeves. Families pissed on while orc warriors were cucked and forced to watch. Fuel for a never-ending cycle of sexual humiliation and revenge… all because of her.

Behind these scenes of violation, she saw herself, sitting wide-hipped and regal on the throne of Stormwind, her shining gauntlet caressing a scrying orb, showing her visions of rape, her breasts hanging massive, wearing little more than boots, a cloak, and a pair of panties that barely covered the mound of her thick pussy.  Yet behind this image of her loomed a greater shadow, in the shape of a muscled and wild-haired silhouette with power radiating from the beastly virility hanging down between his legs.

Orath. Yes. She had been his second, and she had connived to be his number one lieutenant and cock-slave. Jaina was sickened to feel a familiar desire rise within her; much as she had been enthralled, her love for his massive hybrid cock and muscled body had been partially real. Those many nights that she had crawled before his throne, sucking his massive balls, choking on his cock, letting his girth and length destroy her asshole. She had masturbated as the reports of mass rape had come in, and delighted in the enslavement of her former comrades in the Alliance as each came under Orath’s sway.

Moira… 

Then she saw the gathered quorum after the rescue of the Night Elves, and the dispersal of the time bubble that had enveloped Teldrassil. She heard her own voice: “Peace envoy!? No, we will rebuild the night elf race as a conquering army, to defile and punish the Horde, to revisit upon them ten times what they have inflicted on us!”

It was the moment that the hybrid’s - and Orath’s - creation had been proposed. She saw the twisted look of rage on her own face… and the seductive way she interacted with Anduin, to convince him of the idea. Then he spoke, looking not at the dream-Jaina, but the real one, who was a captive to all of this madness. “ You did this,” the prince accused, his eyes milky white, paying little attention as dream-Jaina lifted her skirt and straddled his crotch, grinding her cunt on him, securing his agreement. Everything had the same strange, underwater quality, seeming to move in slow motion, and the sound slightly muffled. “Azeroth will never forgive you!”

His lone, drowning face multiplied and became a chorus of accusing heads with long and waterlogged hair seeming to float as if submerged. She saw not only Andiun, but her father, Daelin, and those she had considered her allies, like Tyrande, the Windrunner sisters Alleria and Vareesa, as well as Moira Bronzebeard, the dragon queen Alexstrasza, Gelbin Mekkatorgue, and those members of the Horde who had, despite being at odds, worked with her at times to maintain peace. They were drowning, submerged in debauchery, and all about them were images of their fates. The women raped by massive hybrid penises that distended their shapely bodies, stopping only long enough to allow the newly-formed babies in their wombs to slide orgasmically forth, before returning to fucking their birth-slick cunts. The males, imprisoned and humiliated and cuckolded.

And then, these familiar and guilty images began to be replaced by something… unfamiliar. Jaina now saw the kneeling women of the Alliance and Horde, prostrate before the powerful scaled torsos and serpentine bodies of Naga - a race of evil beings that she had often crossed paths with before. As the female Naga milked semen from the bound males - Anduin, Thrall, anyone special Jaina had ever treasured - they forced the men to watch as their female comrades gladly serviced the long, rubbery monster cocks of the male naga warriors, some of whom towered to heights of nearly ten feet tall. Their slick, leaking shafts coiled this way and that, and the women seemed to revel in kissing and licking the glistening slime from their surfaces, and milking finger-thick ropes of chunky naga semen straight into their mouths.

Jaina could make out Valeera Sanguinar and Lady Liadrin, two powerful warrior women of the Horde, crying out in mindless orgasm as huge naga warriors, ribbed with green and purple muscle, lifted and dropped their graceful bodies on two penises that looked large enough to permanently fuck up their insides. Both were heavily, degradingly pregnant, and as huge gouts of semen were pumped up their asses - Jaina could see the penises pulse with the strain of delivering such huge, thick loads - both of the blood elf females cried out and gave birth to large, cunt-stretching naga eggs that plopped to the ground below, trailing ropes of sperm and slime.

“You hurt the ones you care for,” her father’s head growled, one eye still missing, the socket ragged. “It’s all you’ve ever done.” Semen blew in ropes from the overfucked orifices of the set-upon females as they were blasted full of hybrid rapeseed, an image straight from Jaina’s memory. Cum splattered down in a torrent, sounding like a wave, and the rioting cocks in their pussies churned like roiling seas.

“No, father!” Jaina heard her voice cry. “Noooooooo!”

Jaina jolted awake at her desk. Breathing hard, she looked down at her tits, as if to confirm her body was corporeal and not still taken by a vision. They were so big, they’d smeared the ink on the letter she’d been writing as she slumped forward. Her hand inched downward, then hesitated.

No. I could never take pleasure from such a nightmare.

Yet she couldn’t stop herself, and tucked her slender hand inside her silver, silk panties - a slit-side thong that was the only type she could comfortably wear because her ass was so big. She moaned in dismay, finding herself slick and leaking all over the wooden chair. Needing release, she slid two fingers inside her pussy, and pressed her thumb on her clit, massaging it in the way she had ever since she was a girl. The climax came with suddenness and strength both in alarming measure, and she bucked her hips upward and bit her lip with shame as an orgasm ripped through her… and she sprayed the underside of the table, and the adjoining wall, with a blast of squirt. Pulling up her knees to her chest, she kept fingering, feeling almost like she had to rid herself of a demon, as if a stronger orgasm would ward away the dreams that had accumulated in her mind. 

Her cunt splattered like a fountain, over and over again. And yet it wasn’t enough - she needed something more. Now feeling desperate, Jaina waved a hand and suspended the liquid pouring from her cunt and pisshole, forming it into one long, glimmering cylinder. At first it was six inches long, then eight, then ten, as more and more of her own female ‘ejaculate’ was gathered and compressed. To a mage who could summon elementals of water, such a trick was tawdry child’s play.

Fourteen inches. Sixteen, and getting thicker too. Lewdly, she spread her legs and started to force out a thick stream of hot, horny piss, adding to the size of her dildo. She could have conjured the water, of course, but something about using her own fluids made the act seem more visceral… and turned her on more.

When it was twenty inches long and thicker than her arm, Jaina finally was satisfied, subconsciously licking her lips as she admired it. Without meaning to, she had formed the veins and bumps in nearly a perfect replica of Orath’s cock. 

I just need to cum, she reasoned. I just need… some relief. An abatement of these visions. That she was about to squat and drop her cunt on a thick ice-dildo made out of her own piss and squirt, nobody would ever have to know - and as she poised herself over the toy she’d fashioned, lifting her gown, exposing her cunt and asshole lewdly, Jaina did not detect the faint hint of laughter echoing again from beneath the hull, radiating up from the deep fathoms.

Even so, Jaina did not get to complete her act.

There was a knock at the door of her quarters “Kul Tiras is in sight, ma’am,” came a voice - one of the Alliance sailors, whom she’d charged with informing her as soon as the island of her youth was in sight. Jaina gasped with surprise, and, lacking her concentration, the ice-dildo fell to the deck and shattered.

Jaina blinked and looked at it. The guard’s intrusion had cleared her head a little, seeming to shake her out of her horniness and distress. The knock came again. “Lady Proudmoore?” the voice repeated.

“Yes!” Jaina cried back, her voice strained. “I’ll be topside in a moment!” She gathered herself in a hurried bustle, making sure in her dressing mirror that her comportment showed no signs of what she’d intended to do, and when her breasts were safely secured again in corsetry and the pale, round globes of her ass safely stowed beneath the decorative drape of her petticoat, she made her way through the creaking halls of the vessel and emerged above decks.

There, on the horizon, the subject of pointing fingers by excited sailors, she could see it. Kul Tiras - the island nation that had been homeland. Already she could see the vague shape of warships in Boralus Harbor… and the circling of innumerable gulls.

It had been her homeland, but no longer. Jaina closed her eyes and let bitter memories return, now lucid rather than dreaming. Kul Tiras had reason to curse her, and it had nothing to do with the ascension of Orath, or the frenzy of sexual conquest that had engulfed the mainland.

“I had no choice,” Jaina whispered to herself. Her hand again clutched the silver anchor pendant that hung against her breasts.

Her Alliance vessel made good speed, and soon, ships arrived to guide them into the harbor. Ships that bore not the anchor pendant of the Proudmoore Admiralty, inherited by Jaina’s mother after Daelin Proudmoore’s death… but the less familiar flag of the Ashvane Company.

Jaina was not surprised when her return after so many years was met not with raucous joy, but with dour-faced guards wielding pikes. To most Kul Tiran people, she was a traitor who had caused the death of her own father by undermining his campaign against the orcs in Theramore… all because of her friendship with the greenskins. In the bars and taverns of Tiragarde Sound, the bawdier jokes speculated that the ‘daughter of the seas’ had betrayed her father because of an insatiable taste for big, fat orc cock.

Thus, she was marched through the city to where the Lord Admiral - her mother, Katherine Proudmoore - was waiting. The people watched, and some called out at her in the streets. Kul Tiras had largely been spared the indignities of the fourth war, Orath’s war, but they thought no better of her than the victims of that conflict.

“Murderer!”

“Traitor!”

“She’s come to finish us off!”

Jaina did her best to ignore them. She knew her purpose, and Anduin’s reason for sending her. Ostensibly, she was to explain that the Alliance had need of Kul Tiras, that the time had come for the island to come back into the fold, and be put in a position of prominence as the foremost center of naval strength… and the projection of power that would allow procurement of Azerite, a powerful substance that the Horde was also looking to secure. 

That was the plan, anyway. One look at her mother’s tight, stern face, and Jaina knew that such geopolitical concerns would be secondary to the looming tension between them… which she also hoped to resolve.

Jaina’s mother was silver-haired and slender, having lost none of her aristocratic beauty with the years. She wore the vestments, epaulets and leggings of an admiral with regal countenance, and one could instantly see she would have been, and remained, one of the great beauties of the island. Her cheekbones were sharp and her hair drawn up into a tight bun. She was as Jaina had remembered… except that even after so many years, something seemed out of place. For at her side, and looking rather more base and tawdry, was the a raucous and expansive woman that Jaina knew from others descriptions could only be Priscilla Ashvane. And it was to this portly presence that Katherine seemed to defer, looking to Priscilla for a leering, smirking nod before any words were spoken.

Even in her nervousness at meeting her mother for the first time since Daelin’s death, Jaina couldn’t help but notice this strange detail. It was not like Katherine Proudmoore, by reputation and by Jaina’s own recollection, to defer to anyone. Her father had been, if anything, slightly henpecked, despite the single-minded defects of character that had brought him to his demise.

There was more. It seemed to Jaina that her mother’s clothing was rather… tight. Especially for a woman so thin, one could make out a puffy mound of camel toe because of the painted-on nature of her leggings. Her jacket was open and her waistcoat fitted severely… to the extent that every detail of the breasts and musculature beneath - gorgeously graceful and thin - were detectable.

Then there was Priscilla. Younger than Katherine by a few years, she was a bawdy orca of a woman who had her dark hair tied back simply and too much makeup slapped on her face. There was no other way to say it - her tits were enormous, easily bigger than Jaina’s simply owing to the sheer amount of matronly, curvy weight she was carrying. They were accentuated by a large, gaudy pendant and an ill conceived fur mantle; the cleavage was such that it seemed several sailors could shove their hands into it and never meet each other. Her smokey eye-makeup and large mouth made her look like she enjoyed slurping on large haunches of meat and large penises in equal measure. 

After years of suffering such appetites herself, Jaina was keen to the signs of sexual deviancy in others. This was a sloven, glowering prostitute of a woman, head of a house known for greed and opportunism, with eyes that slid over Jaina’s body with predatory intent.

“So,” Katherine said, speaking loudly so as to address both Jaina and the large assembled crowd. “My wayward daughter returns to the kingdom she betrayed. Why?” Her look was so icy that Jaina with all her frost powers couldn’t have summoned something colder.

“I have come to ask Kul Tiras for aid,” Jaina announced. “On behalf of the Alliance!”

“Ha!” came Priscilla’s harsh and squawking voice, somehow both aristocratic and low-brow. “The Alliance? Where were they, when our sons and daughters were dying at Theramore!” She walked forward, moving her hands expansively as she talked, her fertility-goddess belly preceding her. As she turned to play to the crowd and stir up their prejudices, Jaina noticed that Priscilla’s ass was absolutely enormous… and that the pendant around her neck was oddly familiar - related to, but not the same as - the Azerite collars that had once been used by Orath to suppress her power. This one was more ornate, more gaudy… but there was no mistaking the dull sky glow of the metal.

“Do not blame the Alliance for my actions-” Jaina tried to interrupt.

“Ah yes! Your actions!” Priscilla cried, turning viciously. “Your own father, left to die, because you preferred to have sex with every one of those vicious Horde brutes, rather than help your own people!” The crowd erupted as they heard all of the sickening tavern rumors given voice. 

Jaina’s face reddened. It was a filthy lie, and as she looked to her mother, she saw Katherine’s face also grow uncertain for a moment, before becoming stern again. It was clear that she was deferring to Priscilla in the negotiation… but why? “That’s not true-”

“I heard,” Priscilla went on, raising her arms to the crowd, “that she offered her throat to every Horde warrior who brought back the head of a Kul Tiran sailor! She whispered sweetly into the ear of every green-skinned butcher! That she could not even have an orgasm unless she saw the slumped and defeated body of one of her own kind, to drive her over the edge!”

The crowd was growing into a frenzy, and had started throwing things. Katherine looked uncertain, and Priscilla was gaining steam with her outrageous rumors. Of course, Jaina had done many crazy sexual things, and had, only a few hours before, been preparing to dick-ride an ice dildo made of her own squirt. But none of that had happened at Theramore, which had been a tragedy of a more mundane sort.

“Mother, please!” Jaina cried out. Yet Katherine was silent, and her eyes fell away as Priscilla continued to rant.

“And what of the distinguished Proudmoore line?” Lady Ashvane bellowed. “This traitor delighted in seeking out the largest, most defiling orc and tauren cocks, to permanently damage her womb and see to it that no suitable heir to her house could ever be born. It is said that she thanked the brutes as their smelly rapeseed permanently defiled her womanhood!” “You’re a fat, lying whore!” Jaina cried out, tired of Priscilla’s nonsense. 

The raucous crowd grew even louder, and started to close in. “I take responsibility for the truth of Theramore… but not these stupid, insulting rumors!” 

She turned again to her mother. “Mother,” she said. “You must believe me. I will do anything in my power to ease the suffering of Kul Tiras.”

No response, at first. Then, Priscilla intervened again, saying: “Katherine. Enforce our punishment. As we decided.” At those words, Jaina’s mother’s face, which had been hinting at uncertainty, hardened. That was the instant that Jaina knew she had been outflanked, and that all hope of brokering peace had been doomed from the start. Something was going on between Priscilla Ashvane and her mother - the rotund woman had an undue and unhealthy influence on her older counterpart.

“The penalty for treason, and sexual deviancy,” Katherine said icily, “is death.” She stepped forward, looking stern, showing no hint of any filial love they might have had. “Do you accept the judgment of your homeland?”

“I accept… your judgment,” Jaina managed, eyes downcast. But it was not Katherine’s judgment alone, and Jaina knew it. She needed time. Time to unravel what was going on. Before her execution, there would be a period of imprisonment.

The pike wielding guards moved to take her into custody. She felt rough hands on her arms, and then caught Priscilla’s knowing gaze as something was clasped and fastened around her neck with a click.

Jaina did not have to look down to know what it was. An Azerite choker.

Fate’s End .

Jaina’s execution was not to be done by keel-hauling, or hanging, or with the cleanliness of a headsman’s axe. Rather, the judgment of the Admiralty had been to exile her permanently to a place worse than any jail cell - a cursed island in the middle of roiling seas and crackling storms, inaccessible to all but the tidesages.

The rumbling of thunder and the creaking of bulkheads were thus the accompaniment to Jaina’s torment on the voyage over, aboard one of Priscilla’s ships, flying the crest of Ashvane. Below decks, the former Archmage of the Kirin Tor was stripped bare and chained to the floor, ankle and wrist, all while Priscilla lounged on a great upholstered chair, and watched and drank and ate, holding court in a lavishly decorated corner of what was an otherwise bare hold.

As she swilled on wine and slurped at lobster, Priscilla ordered the crew to file in, one by one, and every man there was given a chance to rape Jaina. Swarthy men, their bodies reeking of grog and seawater, violated her at length, two or three at a time, scarcely giving her a chance to admonish Priscilla as they filled her throat, pussy and ass with their cocks. 

Even in such a pathetic and depowered state, Jaina had kept up hope that her mother would see reason, and countermand the execution order, or at the very least, see that she was treated with some dignity. But she had underestimated Lady Ashvane’s influence, and Katherine Proudmoore was nowhere to be found as sailor after sailor befouled her body with his issue. The situation had come about with disturbing suddenness - not even the Alliance vanguard that had so closely followed in her wake, ready to establish a foothold on Kul Tiras should she succeed in negotiations, seemed to know what had become of her. And though Anduin surely would not approve… he was back in Stormwind, and out of reach.

“Ah! Swallow my seed, traitor toilet!” growled the gruff man who was fucking her face roughly, two hands buried in the gold and platinum of her beautiful, two-toned hair. “To think Admiral Proudmoore’s daughter is the one taking my backed-up load, after a month at sea!” He growled out a harsh breath as his clotted, clumpy ball chowder sprayed down Jaina’s throat, adding to the accumulated semen already in her stomach. He continued fucking her mouth and banging his fat, brine-stinking balls off of her chin even as he ejaculated. At the same time, Jaina was fucked from behind by a fat, hairy oaf with five missing teeth and a gold hoop in his ear. His bandanna marked him as a pirate rather than a Kul Tiran sailor, and in truth, Jaina had noticed the overlap between sailors of Ashvane, and pirates, to be quite considerable.

Her thick, white buttocks clapped against his belly as they spit-roasted her chained up form and made her tits swing like men in the rigging of a storm-tossed galleon. Jaina groaned pathetically, her eyes glazing over with the fatigue and hopelessness of three hours of uninterrupted rape, as both men emptied themselves. She had lost count of how many sailors had cum inside of her… puddles of semen were staining the deck below her at either end. And each time she was used as a sperm tank by these unworthy men, Priscilla would laugh raucously, her huge tits and belly jiggling, and swill more wine, before directing the next group to continue the assault.

The men released Jaina and she slid to the deck. Chunky sperm bubbled back out of her cunt and asshole and slid down her chin, as they wiped their cocks on her - one in her hair, one of her ass - spat on her, called her a traitor, and then stumbled off, leaving Jaina and Priscilla alone for the moment.

The dark-haired woman was wearing nothing but a bra and scant panties; the way her body spilled out of them could not help but be alluring, in spite of her ugly and conniving personality. Each breast was bigger than the massive jugs of wine from which she gulped with regularity. Hers was a depraved and guilty beauty, she was a whore whose sexiness came not from her grace or charms but from the low-bottom, disgusting acts she might perform under cover of darkness. The way she slurped the guts from shellfish, or chugged wine, all while her massive ass and thick pussy mound were threatening to cause her underwear to split open, was something somehow sluttier than a common whore - she was a pig who would wallow in feces, if there was coin or pleasure in it.

Now, Priscilla rose from her chair and crossed her arms over her massive breasts, laughing cruelly as Jaina was at her mercy. “I saw you cumming,” she accused. “From being raped by my men. The stories about you are true.”

“My mother… would not allow this,” Jaina croaked, and a thick torrent of cum slid from her mouth. “You are… the one… betraying-”

But Priscilla only laughed loudly, and at length, approaching Jaina with heavy footfalls. Besides her scant bra and panties, boots were the only garment she had retained. “Oh, your mother! Would she stop me? Is that what you think?”

“The Alliance is coming for the Azerite - with or without your permission,” Jaina said, quickly. “A fleet is underway, with portal mages to form a permanent connection to Kul Tiras. Diplomacy will be re-established. There is still time to abandon this madness!”

WHAP! Priscilla’s hand fell on one of her bubbly, perfectly-complexioned buttocks, and Jaina yelped.

“Kul Tiras has no need of that,” Priscilla decreed. “Nor of fat-assed whores who cum from rape.” She barred her teeth, looking fiendish in the swinging light of beam-attached lanterns. “No, we have chosen our allies very wisely.”

Is that where you got the Azerite collar , Jaina wondered. From these ‘allies’?

“Your mother has seen the light,” Priscilla went on, groping a fistful of Jaina’s ass as the latter was sprawled, doggy-style. “She understands that my counsel is… invaluable.” Her words seemed to drip with meaning.

“You must be tricking her!” Jaina cried, looking back and up over her shoulder. “Much as she resents me… the Katherine Proudmoore I know would never permit this to stand!”

But Priscilla’s instant look of sinister delight was unnerving. She did not respond, but instead walked to one of the doors of the room - not the one used by the many sailors who had come and gone, but a second, private antechamber. “So… you believe your mother would never permit such a punishment,” Priscilla taunted. “Well… why don’t you ask her?”

She pulled the door open with a creak, revealing a graceful and lithe figure in the doorway that it took Jaina a second to recognize… only because she had never seen her own mother naked before. The figure in the doorway, nude except for a blindfold over the eyes and a pair of laced-up, knee-high boots, was Katherine Proudmoore.

Her body was quite a sight, and very different from the rolling, fleshy fuck-canvas that Jaina’s body had become after years of abuse at the hands of both the Alliance and Horde. She was tight and athletic as a dancer, with her breasts fairly large for one with such a low percentage of body fat. Each muscle was exquisitely etched out beneath alabaster skin. One could see the way her hip bones and iliac cut vicious channels on either side of her pelvis. She had well-defined shoulders, calves, and, as ever, her cheekbones could cut glass. Though in her early 50’s, Katherine was a true silver-haired vixen, and everything the sex-sloven Priscilla was not.

“M-Mother!” Jaina blurted, then turned viciously to Priscilla again with an accusation. “You kidnapped her!”

“No, Jaina,” Katherine said, and walked into the room. Her bubble buttocks were amazingly defined, and didn’t so much bounce as flex and relax smoothly with each step. “I am with Priscilla of my own free will.”

As if to prove the power dynamic between them, Priscilla took the blindfolded Katherine by the arm and shoved her down to the floor, next to Jaina, leaving mother and daughter in identical doggystyle poses - though only Jaina was bound with chains.

“Mother… this isn’t like you-”

“I know you do not understand, daughter,” Katherine said. “But after your father’s death… I was storm-tossed by grief. I couldn’t handle the affairs of Kul Tiras alone. And Priscilla was a port in that storm… taking care of the needs of the island. And…”

Jaina grimaced. “Mother, no!” she objected. “You mean, you and her-”

“That’s right!” Priscilla cackled, and booted Jaina in the rear with one foot as she lorded over the proceedings. “She’s too polite to explain it properly… so let me tell you! Would you like that, Katherine dear?” She grinned down at the slender woman like a jackal.

“Yes, Mistress,” Katherine said, automatically, and her voice was full of such submission and resignation that Jaina’s heart actually turned cold and her stomach tied into knots. Not even her hours of rape had ellicited such feelings in her - sad as it was, she was used to the mundane violations of horny men. But this… this…

“Not one month after your father was eel food,” Priscilla growled viciously, leaning down over Jaina, “your mother’s tender tongue was lapping my cunt box! I came to her with condolences, and asked if there was anything I could do to lighten the load, as she grappled with the loss of Theramore and her husband. And the skinny bitch fell into my arms! What do you think of that, ‘Daughter of the Seas’!?”

Jaina’s eyes went wide. “You… fat, lying whore!” she blared, and pulled fruitlessly at her manacles, causing Priscilla to laugh anew. Their rotund captor walked a few paces away, back toward her chair. 

“At first I was guarded in my affections… a kiss in private, a sweet word… and the offer to ‘take over’ the management of the Proudmoore holdings,” Priscilla went on. “But now, with my new ‘backing’, there is no reason to hide my influence. I’ve been sitting on her face and fucking her with strap-ons now for months… and she enjoys every second of it!” 

To punctuate the point, Priscilla pried up a floorboard and produced a strap on dildo of leather and polished wood - carved into the shape of a stout, suckered tentacle. It looked like some sort of strange novelty item, a modest (for Jaina) eight inches long. Priscilla detached the toy from the harness and tossed it disdainfully across the room, where it clattered next to Jaina’s hand. “The fragile little waif can only barely take this cock to the hilt!”

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Katherine said, hanging her blindfolded head. “I’ll try to do better!”

Jaina again cried out, entreating her mother. “Mother! This isn’t like you! You’d never let anyone influence you this way! She only wants to sully the Proudmoore name, and take control of all Kul Tiras! She just admitted it! She referred to father as ‘eel food’!”

“Priscilla told me she would speak so,” Katherine replied, sounding cowed and ashamed. “She means no harm. I trust her to do what is best, for both of our houses-”

“Are you crazy!?” Jaina wailed, and with one arm, reached up to pull off Katherine’s blindfold, exposing her sea-colored eyes. “Don’t you see that-”

“Jaina,” Katherine said, her eyes submissive and defeated. “I would do anything for my mistress. Including spitting on the memory of my husband… and seeing my daughter executed.”

At that, Jaina only fell silent, her mouth open, her eyes wide and astounded. She could sense absolutely no doubt in her mother’s voice. Perhaps shame… but no doubt. How easily she had sent her own blood to the gallows, on Priscilla’s order! And how easily she debauched herself even now. The fat old bitch had her hooks in deep, alright. Jaina had seen every kind of manipulation, magical and otherwise, and she knew that mindless tone, that utter devotion. She had felt it herself, crawling before Orath’s throne.

Azerite. Orath. Strong women… reduced to sex slaves. The coincidences were adding up.

Now Priscilla produced something different from the secret floorboard compartment - something so large that Jaina at first thought it was a two-handed blade. But no - it was simply a huge and glistening dildo, pink like sea coral, and carved smooth and flanged, with bumps and urchin-like spikes at various spots along the tentacle-like length. It was nearly three times the length and girth of the one that Priscilla had tossed at Jaina’s feet, and looked like it had detached from some awful deep-sea monster.

“I had this specially made in Freehold,” Priscilla explained, seeming to admire the enormous fuckprong as she caressed it. “And I think now might be the time to try it out. It has a bit more give to it than the polished wooden cocks… but it makes up for it in sheer size… and these nasty spikes and bumps!” She ran her finger over one of them, grinning wide enough to show teeth. She started to fasten it to the leather harness as she taunted Jaina. “Your mother has been training hard… and now is your chance to see her take every inch of this monster!”

Obediently, Katherine took up a face-down, ass-up stance, her sinewy body looking fragile and gossamer next to the looming enormity of Priscilla’s fake cock. Hell, the shaft seemed thicker than one of Katherine’s narrow thighs. “I am… ready… mistress!” the older woman said, steeling herself as she lewdly presented her cunt and asshole, which looked extremely tight indeed.

Jaina took one look at the dildo and knew it was impossible. There was simply no way her mother’s tiny body could absorb such a beast. And judging from the nasty glance that Priscilla had shot Jaina’s way as she approached, Lady Ashvane intended to brutally rape and permanently damage the mother, while the daughter watched… a nice send off before the latter’s exile and death.

“No!” Jaina gasped. “No, it will never fit. If you fuck her with that-”

“She’ll love it,” Priscilla countered. “Look at how eager she is!”

Katherine looked almost cute as she bit her lip and spread her narrow, pert cheeks. “Do not worry, Jaina. It is my duty to please my mistress!”

“Mother!” Jaina countered. “That… that thing… will totally fuck up your pussy! You’ll be ripped apart!” Yet Katherine only ignored her, and Priscilla approached. The fancy, sea-themed dildo seemed to be glistening with some form of natural lube, but that wouldn’t matter - not with the sickening difference in size between it and Katherine’s tight slit. Jaina thought back Orgrimmar, when they had dragged Sylvanas before her people and raped her viciously… including with the cocks of Alliance war beasts. The Banshee Queen had even been raped by a Direhorn. Jaina had masturbated furiously at the sound of churning, stretching flesh as Sylvanas’ womb had been permanently rendered a blown-out, dinosaur rape ditch.

The penetration of her own mother would be even more sickening. Just from a cursory glance, the way it was bobbing from Priscilla’s waist over Katherine’s back… the elder Proudmoore would be skewered all the way up to her heart . And much as they had been estranged… Jaina couldn’t bear to see the woman she’d hoped to reconnect with, meet such a fate.

She had to capture Priscilla’s attention.

“Do it to me!” Jaina cried out, aching her back and presenting her pussy and ass to Priscilla. “It’s me you hate… me who you’ve exiled to die. Do it to me… and let my mother watch instead, as you would have had me do.”

Priscilla’s lip curled up into a sneer. “You’ll have to do more than that to convince me,” she said. “So tell me, Lady Proudmoore. Tell me why you are more suited to this, than your mother.” That she was enjoying Jaina’s humiliation could hardly be in doubt… but the goal of distracting her had been attained. 

“It’s because… because…” Jaina shut her eyes, knowing her mother was listening. “Only my pussy can take such a cock. My mother is… inexperienced.”

“Jaina-” Katherine began.

Jaina’s eyes flashed open and she looked angry. “Shut up, mother! You could never even hope to take such a cock! But my pussy… my pussy is a raped, fucked-out whore hole! I’ve taken cocks that large… and larger! So just shut up !” She turned over onto her back, tangling her chains, but still managing to spread her legs and pull her knees up to her chest, presenting her pussy lewdly to the other two women. 

“Take a look!” Jaina insisted, and then reached forward to pull open her hole, spreading herself with two sets of three fingers each, top and bottom. Katherine and the leering, sneering Priscilla were thus allowed to gaze deep into the pussy that had just been plowed by dozens of Ashvane sailors and pirate scum. “Only I can handle that gnarled, disgusting length!” Her voice had an air of desperation to it, and more than a little shame and resignation… but also the slightest hint of excitement. She had spent so much time failing as Anduin’s diplomat… but this was something she knew she was good at.

Katherine’s eyes went wide as she beheld Jaina’s pussy… and then her face fell. It was a jizz tank. She could see all the way to her daughter’s well-worn, grasping cervical ring, which had been plowed into such thorough looseness that it provided a window directly into her sperm-soiled womb as well. A river of semen was glistening on the bottom of the arm-thick passage. It looked like she could slide her entire arm in, fist closed, and push it directly to the back of Jaina’s baby bag with almost no resistance!

“So, the rumors are true,” Katherine lamented, looking at Jaina coldly. “Ships brought news of the Fourth War… and they informed me that you… you were-”

“-that she was the biggest cock toilet in the history of the mainland!” Priscilla crowed, reaching down to grab Katherine’s hair and force her to confront Jaina’s twat, pushing her head until it was mere inches away. “Take a good look, Katherine. Look at the inside of your traitorous daughter’s fucked-out sperm ditch! She’s fucked so many huge orc cocks that the walls of her birth passage are as bumpy as sea coral! She’ll never be able to bear children after so much rape! Your line is in no condition to carry on the Proudmoore legacy. It should all be handed over to me… your holdings, your responsibilities. And your title as Lord Admiral!”

She strode forward, brushing Katherine aside now, and pushed down on her fat, strapped-on prong to poise the tentacle-like tip, riddled with nodules and spikes and bumps, against Jaina’s opening. As the protrusions pressed against her fat pussy lips, Jaina cried out in spite of herself. “Ah!” Her plan to steer Priscilla’s wrath away from her mother had worked… but at what cost?

“You think by sparing your mother you’ll buy her loyalty?” Priscilla spat down at her. “My control over her is absolute. Isn’t that right, bitch?”

“Yes, mistress,” Katherine said, automatically. 

“Get your tongue up my shitbox while I rape your daughter,” Priscilla ordered. “Now! Spread my cheeks, Lord Admiral!” She spat the title out sarcastically. “Slurp my ass while I rip this traitor’s cunt apart!”

Katherine knee-walked behind Priscilla, planting her hands on the Ashvane matron’s bulbous, bulging cheeks, and pulling her thong aside and over one buttock before parting the bounty of flesh in front of her, revealing her mistress’ pink, puffy, sweaty anus. Not hesitating… she closed her eyes and craned her once-dignified face forward and slid her tongue into the dark-haired woman’s commodious, loose ass-pipe, which seemed to eagerly swallow her tongue whole.

“Ahhhh!” Priscilla groaned with satisfaction, as Katherine’s butt-slurps and sucking, spit-soaked oral pops began to fill the room. “That’s it… suck my ass… clean out my bowels with that tongue of yours… by the all seas… it feels good to be serviced by the one who was once my rival for power!

“No, mother!” You don’t need to- aaaaaaauuugh!” Priscilla was tired of Jaina’s interjections, and dropped her hips down, skewering Jaina’s pussy with the tapered, tentacle-like tip of her dildo, watching as every bump and spike and protrusion on the shaft was swallowed up by the blonde’s cunt. Semen from Jaina’s constant rape, displaced by the size of the joy, squirted out from around the edges. The sound of meat being churned was audible even though their moans and grunts of satisfaction.

“The mouth that used to kiss you goodnight… that whispered to you as you grew up… is sucking my shithole,” Priscilla grunted, obviously enjoying raping the daughter while being rimmed by the mother. “She was so desperate and lonely, after you caused your father’s death, a few flirtatious words was all it took to have her muff-diving me and letting me sit on her face! The Proudmoore family are nothing but whores!” She dropped into even more of a squat, leveling the hanging dildo with Jaina’s pussy now, preparing to slide more of the grotesque length in. “It will be my pleasure to permanently defile your womb!”

Eyes alight with ambition, she shoved forward viciously, penetrating Jaina with nearly half of her strap-on,  causing her wet cunt to squelch and churn around the surface of it, which was textured like sea coral, with bumps and spikes reminiscent of a conch. But oddly shaped and brutally thick or not, Jaina’s pussy was slurping that pipe, milking it, accepting every bit of what it had to give. Any further thought the archmage had of admonishing Priscilla vanished from her mind, replaced by a starburst of pain and pleasure that was sickeningly familiar. 

She hadn’t been penetrated by something so large since her confinement at Orgrimmar… when her womb had been polluted daily by her ‘husband’ Grundle’s disgusting, wart-covered abomination cock. And before that, there had been Orath. Both of those penises had brought utter humiliation with them… and yet, she’d had soul-shattering orgasm after soul-shattering orgasm when at their mercy. Yes, Jaina had taunted Priscilla to spare her mother’s tight, narrow pussy from utter destruction… but she’d had another motive too.

Despite any pretensions to ‘healing Azeroth’ from the sex-crazed conflict she’d helped to stoke… Jaina absolutely loved getting brutally raped by massive cocks! There was no use denying it - her face told the tale, as did her whimpering moan as Priscilla’s strapped-on pipe burrowed sickeningly into her guts, the spikes and bumps abrading her cunt meat with wet schlooorps and slrrrrrks . A protrusion rose up in her pale, smooth belly, exactly in the shape of what was delving into her, pressing her navel upward. There was a buttery, lubricated sound as it dilated her cervix and the tapered head poked into her womb, pushing to the back… her body greeted this intrusion with a lover’s familiarity.

Yessssssssss , Jaina’s mind cried out, as she spasmed in her chains. Yessss… this is what I’ve been missing! The brutal pipe dug into her guts, Priscilla now on her knees and gripping Jaina’s thighs firmly, pulling herself in, churning up her womb with short, powerful thrusts. Jaina’s eyes crossed as the slightly upward curve of the toy caused her belly to distend up and out in a cock-shape, almost pressing upward far enough for her to wrap her big tits around it. Her eyes crossed and spittle flew from her mouth… and in spite of the complete contempt she had for Priscilla, head manacles hands reached up to try to embrace the woman, so desperate was Jaina for more inches of that nasty, barnacle-textured sea cock.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck!” she gurgled, eyelids fluttering. “It feels so gooooooood!” It was her own voice ringing out, and she heard it, and in spite of her mother’s accusations, this was the first time Jaina truly felt like a traitor, as she felt the depths of her own need to receive every inch of this brutal cock.

No , a small voice inside her cried out. No, you must not give in! It was the voice of her much younger and more innocent self, the one who had been hoisted on her father’s shoulders to play. But there was another voice, one darker and stronger, that seemed to swell behind it.

Yes I do. I do. I want it. I’ll lick Priscilla’s ass and eat her cunt, and piss on the legacy of my own family… I’ll be exiled and executed, if it means a chance to fuck this huge cock. I’ll lick her feet while she rapes my mother in front of me. I hope Fate’s End is filled with even greater and more beastly dicks. I want defilement at the hands of the most brutal and grotesque penises; attached to the most vile beings. I have come to crave it.

The orgasm that ripped through her was soul crushing. She eagerly caressed the cock-shaped bulge in her gut as Priscilla churned her up, battering her womb and plowing it up inside her, stretching it to the limit, turning the walls that would once have nurtured a child into just one more bumpy, cock-battered dick sleeve. The Ashvane matron sneered at her and spit in her face, Jaina swallowed it eagerly. Furthermore, she agreed that her own mother was an ass-licking whore, that they were both a couple of worthless toilets, and that if not for her pending execution, she would happily stay at Priscilla’s side and lick her cunt. And if her penance called for her to be publicly raped by everyone in Boralus, that was fine too - even the most scurvy-ridden pirates would be invited to paint her face with their cum.

In the throes of orgasm after orgasm, Jaina agreed to every indignity that Priscilla threw at her, cumming all the while, and it was the dark-haired woman who grew tired first, or perhaps disgusted, pulling out of Jaina and grabbing Katherine by the hair, tossing her down beside her daughter.

“Kiss each other,” Priscilla ordered. The two Proudmoore women locked eyes - Katherine broken and submissive, Jaina crazed with just-fucked bliss. They pressed their mouths against each other like lesbian whores as Priscilla laughed, causing her tits, belly, and massive ass to jiggle, and taunted Jaina again. “That’s it! Get a nice taste of my asshole from your mother’s mouth!”

Jaina did, savoring the earthy scent, even as she knew her mother was tasting the clotted garbage cum of the many sailors who had blasted down her throat in the prior few hours. Perhaps most degradingly and shamefully, there was actual tenderness in the open-mouthed, sloppy tongue kisses. Mother and daughter were indeed reconciling after many years, as they both hoped for, even if in secret. It just so happened that the circumstances were the most vile ones possible.

“My daughter,” Katherine breathed. “You’re… such a worthless whore now…”

“You too… mother…” Jaina returned. They were pouring the words into each others mouths and faces. “We’re both… nothing but toilets.” They began to grope each other’s breasts - Katherine’s filling Jaina’s palm, Jaina’s huge jugs overspilling Katherine’s. They sucked tongues and started to grind their sweaty bodies together, using their thighs to rub each other’s clits. Both of them were in a masochistic and submissive frenzy.

Priscilla’s eyes were not just satisfied, they were sparkling, as if a great plan had come to fruition. Fetching the smaller dildo she had previously discarded - still a stout eight inches - she attached it to her harness… and offered it to Jaina.

“Rape her,” she ordered, nodding toward Katherine. “Rape your mother, as you raped this island, this nation, with your betrayal at Kul Tiras.”

This gave Jaina pause for only a moment… until she looked in her mother’s eyes and saw self-immolating desire… and the need for this twisted reconciliation to reach a conclusion. Mother and daughter would indeed be brought back together. “Please, Jaina… mistress demands it,” Katherine begged. And the older Proudmoore, together with Priscilla, aided in attaching the dildo to Jaina’s crotch. The latter gasped with pleasure at the feeling of pressure the device caused on her clit.

For the remainder of the voyage to Fate’s End, even as the ship roiled in the chopping water, she raped her mother eagerly, embracing her, kissing her as she stabbed her fake cock up into the slender woman’s guts, making her cum again and again. Indeed, they orgasmed together like sex sows, laying on their hips, forging a new bond as mother and daughter much different from the previous, which had been broken with Daelin Proudmoore’s death. Katherine even started to tell Jaina which angles of fucking felt best, and they both marveled and cooed at the way her thin body bulged with the pumping, rioting dildo inside.

A villain sure of her victory, Priscilla watched, swilled wine, and degraded the two as she wished. And when the voyage was almost complete, she rose from her chair and squatted over both of their faces, blasting them with a huge torrent of piss even as they came to the next of their uncountable incestuous orgasms.

“Let’s drink together, my daughter,” Katherine purred, her eyes half-lidded and strands of her beautiful silver hair astray, plastered to her face. 

“Like the toilets we are,” Jaina purred back. And then, like baby birds begging to be fed, they opened their mouths wide and craned their necks, cheek to cheek beneath Priscilla’s fat ass and piss-spraying cunt flaps, and let their arch-enemy fill their mouths to the brim. Priscilla listened to their gulps and swallows, thinking of how perfectly it had all worked out, as had been promised to her, and about how she would keep Katherine as a figurehead and pet, degrading her every day for the rest of her life, and what riches she would gain by controlling Kul Tiras, and the trade of Azerite, and stealing from the Alliance every chance she got.

She did not know that it was Jaina, not she, who was part of Azshara’s further plans.

How long had she wandered there? Weeks? Months? She did not know.

Fate’s End was a place where the fabric of reality had worn thin; the cursed island had a reputation that was well-earned, but none the sailors who told the takes knew the precise cause - that souls exiled to the island would be pulled into Thros, a dark land in which visitors are tormented by their deepest regrets.

So it was with Jaina, who had been at peace with her impending fate, whatever form it might take, and soon found herself walking in a dark and blighted place that looked like nothing she had seen of Fate’s End from the shore. She did not know what would happen - only that the cravings within her were strong, and her sense of shame so great, it might be better for all if she was exiled away, so as not to corrupt anyone further.

She did not know, or care, that the actions of Alliance champions and the brave Taelia were bringing Katherine to her senses and spearheading an expedition to retrieve her. She was too deep in her own feelings, her own shattered memories, and the forbidden and irresistible cravings of her bountiful body. 

In this vulnerable state, the apparitions of the island had found her quickly, their voices ringing in her ears:

“You could have saved us! You could have stopped him!”

“You betrayed us.”

Sailors of her father’s fleet, victims of the fighting over Theramore, which Daelin in his madness and hatred had refused to avoid. Their faces were pallid and vengeful. And as the voices rang down, she saw him - the jacket, the epaulets, the figure she’d so often seen in her dreams. 

Her father.

“Jaina,” he said, his face glowering. “You stood and watched as those animals cut me down. What has your betrayal earned you?”

Yes, she had been unable to alter the course of events back then… but she was very different now, wasn’t she? And her father’s eyes seemed to crawl over her - the way her enormous breasts seemed to barely fit in her corsetry. The way her ass bounced beneath her robe as she stepped forward.

No… now she had other means.

Save us , the Kul Tiran sailors droned at her. You can save us.

“F-Father,” Jaina said, embracing him. Their surroundings were a dark and blighted horror in which half-seen ghosts flickered and disappeared, but in the spot where she stood, it was so lucid, it looked and felt just like the real. “This war has you… vexed. Let me, as your daughter… take care of you.”

She knelt before him, feeling a sense of nostalgia… and arousal. When she had been just a girl, hadn’t her father been the first example of a man she’d seen? The prototype for all future lovers? Hadn’t she gravitated toward those who were brave and driven, and powerful?

“Jaina,” her father said, caressing her cheek. “I’ve been at sea. I have not washed-”

“I don’t care,” she said, looking up at him with those wide, perfect blue eyes. “I’ll clean your cock with my mouth, father. As I should.” And she unsnapped his button fly and let him spill out, directly onto her face and into her grasping hands, gasping at the stench of sweat and brine, and inhaling her own father’s cock stink through eager nostrils. It was thick, and long, and greasy with perspiration. She extended her tongue into the foreskin and withdrew it, covered in filth.

“It stinks so fucking bad,” examining it with her finger. “But… I like that, father.”

“Jaina… you’ve truly become a worthless whore, haven’t you?” The voice, so exactly as she remembered. “How many filthy cocks have you sucked?”

“So many, father,” Jaina moaned, and then buried her tongue back in his thick foreskin, slurping his knob, drawing more smegma into her mouth, showing him how much she’d gathered, then chewing it, feeling the paste turn back into the constituent parts of liquid semen and sweat, when mixed with her saliva. “It tastes like shit… but I love cleaning your cock!”

She dragged her licking mouth down his shaft and licked the furrow of his balls, then kissed each fat testicle tenderly. “I want to thank your balls for giving me life,” she moaned, looking up submissively. “As a loyal daughter should.”

“You’re a piece of shit, Jaina,” Daelin Proudmoore assessed. “Nothing but a cock-sucking whore who has been raped thousands of times.”

“Yes.” She kissed his tip and dug her tongue into the fat pisshole. Several of his pubic hairs were crinkled on the corner of her mouth. “And if you leave Theramore… and come home… I’ll be your personal bitch. You can rape me, beat me… use me as a toilet… do anything you want.” She bared her tits. “Look at my huge, embarrassing tits. You can shove your cock between them and unload your backed-up cum on my face as much as you like. What man wouldn’t want to use his fat-assed, big-titted daughter as his personal whore?” She swallowed thickly. “I’ll even shove my tongue up your ass!”

Strong hands in her hair. Controlling her head. That sweaty, filthy cock pressing against her lips, mashing them against her teeth…and then spearing into her throat. Cutting off her air. “Pathetic,” Daelin growled. “To think the souls of the dead could be soothed by any words your cum-filled mouth.”

Jaina’s eyes widened. “P-please, daddy!” she blurted… only to be cut off viciously.

His cock plowed into her windpipe, and he started to ram Jaina’s face into his crotch, not caring at all for her well-being, showing no filial love or even the slightest shred of respect. Jaina’s hands fell limp to her sides. It seemed she was insufficient even to this task, of pleasing the ghosts of the past. And yet it felt so real, the shame came roaring back even stronger.

This is it, she thought, wearily. I can’t get lower than this. Getting skull-fucked by my own father.. after slurping the filth from his smelly, unwashed cock. He is using me for the only thing I am good for. 

He used her as he wished, banging her nose so hard of his pubic bone that it hurt, choking her viciously, even donkey punching her on the top of the head as she throat-fucked her hard enough to make her vomit out huge bursts of throat-slime that covered his penis in gunk. Only after several minutes of this viciousness did he groan with telltale satisfaction, dumping what felt like a gallon of backed-up, chunky sperm directly into her stomach.

“You worthless toilet whore,” he spat at her, and she saw his face was changing, from the handsome man she’d known… to the appearance of a sunken, eyeless corpse. “There is nothing for you on the surface!”

Suddenly, the body she was gripping, and the cock she was servicing, became insubstantial, seeming to wash away in the air like a droplet of ink in a tank of water. “Father!” she cried out. There was nothing left of him but a nasty cum taste in her mouth. 

Jaina barely had time to think before becoming aware of different surroundings, glancing around from her knees to see buildings, seeming to swim in the distance in wreaths of fire… as horsemen galloped around her and the bustle of an Alliance camp. It was one she knew well - the makeshift outpost from which prince Arthas Menethil had gone over to madness, deciding to burn the whole of Strathhome to stop the spread of the undead plague.

Just ahead of her, standing on a bluff overlooking the city, was the man himself. Powerful, handsome, her childhood friend - and, after parting ways with her, the greatest butcher of the Third War.

“The city was purged,” he said, turning toward her. “Because you ran.” He began to walk forward, stomping in his armor, towering over her. The cacophony of hooves around her from the rampaging knights made it difficult to think. They encircled her - these same men who had set fire to homes and killed civilians.

“No,” Jaina blurted. “I-”

“Jaina. There was an emptiness inside me… that you were too cold and frigid to fill,” Arthas continued, now within touching distance, and glaring down at her. There was madness in his eyes, even then. So how could she have saved Strathhome?

By making an offer as twisted as his dark and twisted soul.

“I’m sorry,” Jaina said, now kneeling in the shadows of a ring of horsemen, knights of Lordaeron who glared lustily down at her from their saddles… and completing the circle, Arthas. “You’re right… I should have been bending over for you and sucking your cock like a good whore. It’s… it’s all I’m useful for.” This was no mere tactic but something she had started to genuinely believe, in light of the events of the prior months.

“Hmmph… a blowjob is something I can have from any peasant girl,” Arthas scolded, and then gestured to his horsemen. “We ride… burn the city, and leave none alive-”

“NO!” Jaina cried out again. “No… I… won’t let it happen!” She looked around desperately, seeing a mad prince, his violent followers… and horses. Lots of horses. Horses with big, hanging, un-gelded cocks that hung past their hocks. Had it truly been so? Surely not… but she couldn’t remember. And Arthas, twisted as he’d become… might only be persuaded by something as forbidden as the forbidden urges in his heart.

“I’ll… suck your horses, too,” Jaina burst out, peeling her robes away fully to show off her sex sow body - those huge buttocks and fat tits that seemed unnatural above and below her still-narrow waist. Her pale, perfect skin shone in the greenish-blue mist of the surrounding blight. “All of them.” She fell to her hands and knees, prostrating herself before the men. “Forget this city… stay in camp, and watch me service your mounts. Watch me fuck and suck animals, for your amusement and pleasure!”

A cry of approval went up from the surrounding knights, and the corner of Arthas’ mouth turned up into a sinister grin. The promise of such a disgusting spectacle was enough to temporarily distract him from his pursuit of the dreadlord Mal’Ganis, and he watched with eagerness as Jaina desperately crawled toward the first of the steeds and reached up to take the brown-pelted beast’s cock between two hands, pulling the flanged head toward her mouth.

She extended her tongue and started to eagerly lick, looking to Arthas and the men for approval, cleaning up the horse’s smelly dick and slurping her tongue over every bump on the ring around that fat, spongy flange, even burying her tongue in the stallion’s pisshole. It wasn’t long before her eyes gave away the truth - she was positively enchanted by the size of those fat stallion cocks, her mind spinning with their stench, and was swiftly losing any guile that her Arthas-distracting mission might have started with. Nasty, animalistic two-foot cocks were exactly the sort that she’d learned to love.

“Fuck, I love horse dick! They stink so bad!” Jaina’s eyelids fluttered as she took a deep whiff of pure equine cock-stench and felt it sizzling in her sinuses. Flies lit on her face as she licked down the shaft toward the beast’s balls, burying her face in them as droplets of animal sweat slid down her cheeks from the soaked, leathery scrotum she was huffing. She started lewdly fingering herself as the catcalls and groans of disgust started to rain down from the men.

The pleasured the first horse at length and used two hands to jerk a nasty, grayish-yellow load all over her face, swallowing as her mouth as filled again and again and cum leaked down her chin and between her tits. But of course, she had many more horses to go, and so the act repeated itself again and again. She sucked them, she licked their balls, then knights even lined up their mounts with their rears facing Jaina, and forced her to lick and suck their musky, puffy anuses, smearing her face with oily sweat as she bestial animal ass like a pig.

“You’re nothing but a whore, Jaina,” Arthas scolded, cross-armed and smiling. “You act desperate to save these doomed people… but you really just like servicing horses, don’t you?”

Jaina, eyes half-lidded, pulled her mouth off of the stallion asshole she was sucking, streaks of saliva connecting her pert lips to the beast’s fat, swollen turd-ring. “Yes! I love huge, stinky horse dicks! I’ll get these big studs hard, and you can watch while they fuck me!” She sounded desperate. Was desperate. And it was with desperation that she responded when Arthas and the knights began to fade from sight. 

“No!” she cried. “Let me fix this… just this one thing!”

But Arthas was turning cold and haunted, even as he faded, and when he spoke, it was with the dual voices of both himself and the Lich King… proof that she couldn’t save him, or Strathhome, after all. “You’ve only ever hurt the people you care about,” he said. “There is nothing for you here, Jaina. The only destiny for one such as you… is in the deep.”

She rushed to him. Tried to embrace him… but he faded away to nothing but a disembodied head, and seemed to retreat into the smoke and fog, laughing at her. She heard Arthas, and the voice of her father… but there was also another voice, behind those, more insidious and insistent. A dark call.

Then, still on her knees, still naked, covered in horse cum and sweat, with her father’s sperm still roiling in her stomach… the retreat of the fog, and the crashing return of light.

“Take that, monster!” Taelia cried. She was standing over the broken body of Gorak Tul, Jaina’s tormentor, with Katherine Proudmoore at her side. With the help of several Alliance adventurers, she had convinced Katherine - who still seemed strangely distracted in spite of proof being found of the Ashvane company’s many misdeeds - to set out in search of her daughter.

Now, they had found her, and rescued her, from the mental torments of the ancient Drust. Though, of course, in doing so, Taelia had seen more than was perhaps intended, including Jaina’s offers to suck her father’s cock and fuck every one of the horses in Arthas’ cavalry.

The girl, beautiful and dark-haired, the secret daughter of Bolvar Fordragon, could only stand awkwardly as Jaina slowly came to her senses and staggered to her feet. She’d expected the mother and child to embrace upon this second chance at a reconciliation… but instead, things seemed… strangely awkward.

“Mother,” Jaina said, then looked down at herself. Her fat, round tits and huge bubble butt seemed all the more conspicuous as she stood in the nude, the pores of her nipples rising in gooseflesh in the cold sea air. “I… have lost my clothing.”

“Yes,” Katherine said, unable to maintain eye contact. Taelia looked confused… but she had no way of knowing that both Katherine and Jaina had had their ‘true’ second reconciliation below the decks of an Ashvane ship, while scissoring and fucking each other to countless orgasms and drinking what seemed like a gallon of their rival’s hot, steaming piss. “Well… we have… robes for you on the ship.”

“It will be a relief to put this place behind me,” Jaina said, and accept a shawl thrown over her shoulders by one of the Alliance adventurers who had aided in her rescue. She walked off, following the lead of her companions, knowing that the presence of Alliance champions could only mean that diplomatic relations had been normalized and, somehow, her mission of diplomacy had been a success.

And yet… she couldn’t shake the memory of those apparitions. Her father, and Arthas… speaking together, but also in a voice that was not quite their own… and speaking of depths that fit neither one of their personalities as she had known them.

No… something else was talking to her. And in the echo of those dreams, the fading memory, she could see the silhouette of a huge, erect cock… one she remembered very well. She knew each vein, each bump, the exact proportions of length and girth.

Orath. Somewhere beneath the waves. Alive… and waiting.

Deep within the Eternal Palance, Azshara looked into the watery portal and smiled viciously. Priscilla Ashvane had been a useful tool in driving Jaina closer to the brink, as had the leader of the Drust. The first had only wanted gold and power, the second had only wanted vengeance on Kul Tiras, and their torments of Jaina had served Azshara’s purposes well.

“The power inside her is growing,” she seethed to herself, her voice carrying the slight serpentine tone common to her undersea kind. She was queen of the naga, beautiful in spite of her alien proportions. Four arms, a body split into three great tendrils, a voluptuous upper torso and tentacles sprouting from her head that mimicked the luxurious hair she’d once had as Empress. At will, she could still assume her original night elf form, and often did so, when she felt like testing Orath’s progress.

The former sexual conqueror of Azeroth was present too, slowly healing from his defeat. He lay flat on a table made of solid gold, naked, his muscled body chiseled, his long, fat penis massive even when flaccid, reaching past his knee. Occasionally Azshara would partake in it, relieving the sperm in his balls even as he lay unconscious, reveling in the thickness and virility of it. Having healed, his cock was even larger than before. She knew Jaina would not be able to resist it… her body called to it just as her mind called to once again be under his lash.

“Come to me, Jaina,” she whispered, staring intently into the portal. She knew it would come to pass. For Jaina was part of the Alliance, and an increase in naga raids would soon have them preparing for war… with Jaina in the vanguard. She ran a finger over the surface of the scrying surface, making the water ripple. 

“Daughter of the Seas,” she purred. “There is nothing for you on the surface. Your true destiny is in the deep.”

Chapter Text

After being rescued from Fate’s End by Taelia Fordragon and brave Alliance adventurers, Jaina had wanted only to rest her weary body. Yet as seemed to always be the case in Azeroth, the difficult times had called upon her to act almost immediately. 

Thanks to the efforts of an Alliance emissary, her mother Katherine had eventually been convinced of Lady Ashvane’s treachery/ But once exposed, Priscilla had escaped to muster her forces and do by force that which she’s been unable to accomplish by subterfuge and manipulation - the conquering of Boralus.

Thus, still weary from her ordeal, Jaina and her mother had been forced to defend the city from siege by Priscilla’s Irontide raiders and her compromised, traitorous tidesages. The city was burning and the battle was pitched, with innumerable dead on both sides… and throughout the ordeal, Priscilla revealed that her ambitions were not only her own, but done in service to power that dwelled beneath the waves. She even went so far as to summon a massive sea kraken, which was defeated only by the return of the Kul Tiran main fleet, which had been lost at sea for months thanks to a magical storm conjured by Priscilla’s turncoat tidesages.

Still, they had won the day. Near the end, in her desperation and madness, Priscilla directed the tentacles of the beast to drag dozens of Kul Tiran women beneath the waves, and then jumped into the sea herself before she could be brought to justice. It became clear that she had a safe harbor there, a different ally somewhere in those depths… and Jaina had a good idea who it was.

Azshara. The presence of Faceless Ones, of terrifying, pelagic sea monsters, and the kidnapping of nubile young Kul Tian women to some nefarious end… it could only be her. And that wasn’t all. A taunting voice had called out to Jaina, as the battle ended. Informing her that to save the women of her homeland… she would have to venture into the deepest, darkest oceans.

The true battle, it seemed, was yet to come.

Now, sitting in the bedchamber that belonged to her mother, as they took turns using the bathhouse, she fingered the pendant that hung from her neck and jangled just above the top of her deep cleavage. It had belonged to her father, and had contained the power necessary to bring the Kul Tiran fleet home. It was the only article of ‘clothing’ adorning her absurdly voluptuous body.

Jaina had just finished combing and braiding her hair. Still naked, she went to the wardrobe and shelves at the far wall, wondering if she might find something simple and modest to wear. She still had her thong, corset and robe… but didn’t want to put them on. They way they sexualized her breasts and ass-cheeks seemed somehow inappropriate. Especially since, given the fire damage to the city, she was likely to end up sharing her mother’s bedchamber.

She swung the wooden doors open. Inside she saw several uniforms, surcoats, blouses, and pairs of trousers, all belonging to her mother. There was plenty of woolen underwear, too - warm and modest singlets with buttons up the front… but Jaina growled with frustration as soon as she pulled them out and measured them against her front.

“Impossible,” she muttered, and lamented the lewd changes that all of her sex and magical debauchery had wrought on her body. Her huge round tits and massive ass-globes had absolutely zero chance of fitting into anything in the wardrobe. To begin with, her mother Katherine was a very statuesque, slender woman, almost unnaturally trim. But it didn’t matter anyway. She’d tried on her old bloomers back in Stormwind and they also hadn’t fit due to her indecent ass being so large.

She was about to close the wardrobe door when something caught her eye - a draw with a lock on it, slightly askew. Jaina reached out and took hold of the handle, pulling it out… and gasped at what she saw.

A leather collar and leash. A feeding bowl, as if for a pet hound, with the name ‘Katherine’ etched into it. A studded paddle. Nipple clamps. Potions of Lubrication. Candles and splatters of stray wax! Not to mention a series of clearly sexual, cylindrical objects, each one larger than the last.

“Oh, mother,” Jaina lamented. The S.E.L.F.I.E camera on the shelf above the drawer, placed in front of a packet of photos, at first had seemed innocent enough. Now it seemed very ominous indeed. Jaina admonished herself to close the drawer, close the wardrobe, and think nothing more about it. Her mother had left to use the bathhouse thirty minutes before, she would likely be returning soon. And yet, perhaps because of her own experiences in trying to hide shameful acts… Jaine found herself unable to look away.

Her trembling hand reached out and took hold of the photos. Produced almost instantly by some goblin or gnomish nonsense she couldn’t fathom (the swirls and currents of the arcane were easier to understand by far), they told the tawdry tale that she’d feared to see but had been unable to turn away from.

Here was her mother in a leash, crawling on all fours, totally naked, while Priscilla grinned villainously into the lens. There were red handprints on Katherine’s taut, slender ass. Next was a stream of piss raining down from the foreground bulge of Priscilla’s hairy cunt, with Katherine eagerly swallowing every drop, her mouth overflowing.

Each time Jaina flipped through the photos, the glossy paper made a rustling sound. And so it went. Katherine struggling while Priscilla sat on her face and gave a villainous smile to the camera. Flip . Priscilla paddling Katherine’s ass until it was bruised. Flip . Katherine being forced to drink piss out of her dog bowl as Priscilla laughed. Flip . 

Jaina paused at the final photo, which was of Priscilla destroying Katherine’s asshole with a strap-on. The look of hopeless pleasure on her mother’s face should have disgusted her… but instead, it made her feel a strange kinship. After all, how many filthy cocks had she taken in her cunt and ass, while begging for more? She could see the way the large dildo was making her mother’s belly bulge slightly; she knew exactly how it felt to have her insides rearranged and remade in the image of an ever-larger cock. 

For a second, Jaina recalled her abomination ‘boyfriend’, Grundle, who had stuffed her oviducts full of his diseased ball-slop every night, as she rode on his thirty-inch, misshapen penis every night for Sylvanas sick enjoyment, moaning out at the way the stitches in his flesh tickled and pleasured her stretched-open vaginal canal.

“No,” she whispered to herself. “Am I…?”

She was indeed. Getting horny while perusing her own mother’s secret and humiliating porn. And feeling… what? Jealousy? Understanding? A wish for that sort of intimacy? Jaina’s feelings whirled, but they centered mostly on one thing - the constant struggle she had to be in control of herself, and to not give in to the seed of debauchery that seemed never to depart, even though she was free of Orath’s influence and Sylvanas’ punishment. 

Tyrande’s ritual had seen to that. Yet… something remained. She had felt herself less obsessed with Anduin, and had assumed that the same cooling effect would apply to other sexual opportunities as well. But no. There was still that something . A self-destructive void inside her that made her hungry for abuse… and desperate to seek it out, by way of atonement.

“Jaina!”

Her mother’s sharp voice echoed through the chamber, and the top floors of Proudmoore Keep. Katherine had indeed returned, and now while tying her bathrobe, was looking on her daughter with suspicion and astonishment. She approached and took the photos from Jaina’s hands, then threw them back into the wardrobe shelf, shutting the door after them. 

The two regarded each other. Katherine’s eyes were sharp at first, but then softened as Jaina looked at her awkwardly. “I meant to… clean my quarters of such things,” Katherine said, eventually, unable to make eye contact at the admission. “But, with the attack-”

“I know,” Jaina finished. They hadn’t even had a chance to talk since the boat ride over to Fate’s End, when they as mother and daughter and lapped at each other’s cunts and dildo-fucked each other with such eagerness, all under Priscilla’s influence. She had arrived in Boralus, been arrested, shipped off to Fate’s End, spent untold time in a strange limbo… and been brought back just in time for Priscilla’s ships to begin bombarding the city.

Katherine looked up after several moments of silence. “I’m… ashamed,” she admitted. Though she’d only just emerged from the bath, she’d taken the time to draw back her hair in the tight bun that was her trademark. “That Priscilla had such a hold over me.” She walked over to the bed and sat down, and Jaina followed. “The things I did-”

“Mother, it’s okay,” Jaina said.

“But… it’s not,” Katherine lamented. “Priscilla’s touch… it awakened something in me, somehow. Even now that she’s betrayed me, and is our enemy. Even though I would not hesitate to kill her… some deeper part of me still yearns for her.” She looked a bit alarmed at the admission, and then added: “Or… something like her. Sometimes… sometimes I feel as if she’s put a spell on me.”

Jaina felt a surge of connection to her mother in that moment, more intense than she’d felt in all the years since leaving the island. The insatiable need for sex, for intimacy, even unto one’s own destruction or utter embarrassment - it was a feeling that Jaina knew better than perhaps anyone on Azeroth. She felt deep sympathy for her mother, and reached out to put a hand on her wrist.

“I understand, mother,” Jaina said. “I… I feel the same urges.”

They locked eyes. Katherine nodded after a moment, clearly picking up the vibe that Jaina was putting out. “Yes, daughter,” she said. She had, after all, heard of Jaina’s history, and her role not just in Azeroth’s sexual madness but in the reconstruction from it. “I suppose you do.”

She took Jaina’s hand in both of hers. Her robe had loosened slightly, one could see more than half of one shapely breast emerging from the fabric. Jaine, except for Daelin’s amulet, was totally naked. “How can I show my face to my people again…  knowing I submitted so eagerly to a woman bent on their subjugation? Knowing that even now… I crave…” Her hand, gaunt but graceful, moved to her midsection, palm against it, as if remembering the quaking, mind-breaking orgasms she’d experienced at the end of Priscilla’s fingers, paddles, dildos and fists… not to mention her sharp and degrading tongue. “It wasn’t like this until I fell under her sway,” she finished, looking heartbreakingly confused.

But Jaina knew what she was feeling. Priscilla had been to Katherine Proudmoore a lesser version of what Orath had been to her. An overwhelming force who had twisted her mind with sheer sexual dominance and not a small amount of magic help.  “I… have urges as well, mother,” Jaina admitted. “And they are dangerous… if they would cause me to… ‘submit’... to someone unworthy.”

She swallowed, captured her mother’s gaze and went on. “But… if we were to… satisfy ourselves with someone trustworthy …”

Jaina trailed off and let the words speak for themselves. And then, there was a moment. Katherine’s face changed, just for a split second, and her eyes moved down and back up. After that, she blushed… and glanced away slightly. Jaina knew what had just happened. Her mother had sized her up. Not as a daughter… but as a potential sexual partner. Comparing her huge tits and thick bubble ass to those of Priscilla.

Katherine reestablished eye contact after a short period, her face reddened… but speculative. When Jaina’s hand went closer to the belt-tie of her robe, she welcomed it in with her own hand. “That… is one possible solution. If… two people who care for each other… were to… make an arrangement. Perhaps their heads would be cleared of… complications.”

Jaina’s hand found the belt. Pulled it. The robe fell open, exposing Katherine’s svelte bare chest, hips, and midsection, and the tight, puffy bulge of her mons pubis. She had so little body fat that each one of her abdominal muscles could be detected beneath the surface of her flawless, pale skin.

“Jaina…” Katherine said, gently. An ‘are you sure’ confirmation. Not a rebuke. The sense of kinship, of being trapped in the same sexual compulsion, was overpowering. Strong enough to repair the awkwardness of the ride to Fate’s End, and the prior years of estrangement between mother and daughter.

Jaina pulled her mother’s hand to her chest and placed it on one of her indecent, huge breasts. The elder Proudmoore gasped out as she felt her fingers sink into the flesh. “Jaina… your body…”

“I know.” And Jaina did know. She sensed that her mother’s attraction to Priscilla had been in the bawdy pirate queen’s lewdly sexual appearance and personality. The barroom voice, the fat breasts, the enormous ass, even the round, whoremistress belly that seemed to speak to a life of debauchery. The counterpart to Katherine’s straight-laced and upstanding countenance. Jaina couldn’t boast the bulging midriff… but she had the rest. One needed only to look at Jaina to realize that she’d sucked and fucked a lot of dicks. Her breasts and ass were every bit as huge and suggestive as Priscilla.

She reached out to pull her mother’s head close, they embraced on the edge of the bed and the elder Proudmoore’s face was pressed hard against Jaina’s breast. She nursed in a lewd juxtaposition of their family roles, biting and using her teeth to pull at the abuse-hardened nipple while spraying hot breath on her daughter’s skin. Katherine moved her hand down, in, and found a soft and inviting place between Jaina’s legs, perfect for exploration with fingers.

“Ah… mother!” Jaina gasped as a thumb found her clit and two fingers slid inside.

“You’re almost swallowing up my hand,” Katherine moaned. “You’re so warm and wet… you’ve developed so much down here… you used to be such a slender girl-”

“Don’t say that!” Jaina moaned, blushing as her mother massaged her big, hooded clit. She knew exactly what Katherine was referring to. As a mage student under Antonidas, she had been renowned for her beauty. But her pussy had been petite and tight, her breasts modest. Now, after years of taking the biggest, nastiest cocks and receiving gallons of cum in every hole… her labia were thick, meaty, quick to blush red when aroused… and seemed tailor made to wrap around the biggest cockshafts! 

In other words… Jaina’s dignified admiral mother was saying she had a phat pussy!

Katherine pushed her hand forward and Jaina’s pussy opened up, soaking wet, to receive it. Three fingers slid inside, then four… and then, finally, Katherine’s entire hand slid inside with an embarrassing schlooorp noise.

“Ah! Mother!” Jaina cried out, biting her lip in pleasure and bracing herself so she didn’t fall backward, keeping her legs spread.

“It’s so bumpy inside,” Katherine whispered, in a voice that was almost scolding. “It’s like sea coral. Jaina… when you left for Dalaran… you were such a delicate flower…”

“Mother,” Jaina breathed, and their foreheads were now pressing together as they spoke, eyes closed, each tasting the breath of the other. “Why did you accept Priscilla into your bed so readily? You don’t want a delicate flower, do you? No… you wished to be punished… isn’t that right?”

“I… felt I deserved it,” Katherine said haltingly. “Losing your father. Losing your brother, and the fleet. Losing you.” She took a breath. “When Priscilla would punish and mistreat me… it felt right. The disgrace of it… matched how I felt about myself!”

“The mother I knew would never have gotten involved with that fat, ugly pirate whore,” Jaina hissed into Katherine’s face. “So… we have both changed… nnngh!” She groaned out in pleasure as her mother’s hand formed a fist and slid further inside her. It was now buried up to the elbow.

That they both desired to be punished and that each would provide a safe and intimate place to punish the other, was now an unspoken truth. Jaina pulled Katherine into a harsh kiss and their breath exploded into each other's mouths as they tangled and sucked tongues, swapping saliva unreservedly. 

“Can you taste the cum on my breath, mother?” Jaina moaned, her perfect teeth sliding against Katherine’s equally pearly set. “You got the daughter you deserved, didn’t you? That must please you… you don’t have to suck Priscilla’s fat ass to disgrace yourself any longer!”

“Jaina… surely this opening I feel… can’t be the entrance to your womb!” Katherine moaned. “It’s so beaten up and loose, I could slide my fist right inside. Just how many times have you been raped?”

“Nnngh… mother… that’s your punishment… the end of your family line! I’ve been ripped apart by so many massive cocks… I’ll never be able to give you a healthy child!” She groaned out in pleasure as Katherine slid her hand inside her baby bag and started to slowly move it back and forth, delivering punches to her uterine lining.

“Jaina… you… raped piece of shit!” Katherine groaned, and they engaged in a sloppy, tongue sucking kiss. Jaina was now fingering her mother even as she herself was fisted. Both of them were lubed up, wet, and stuck in the throes of a disgraceful, self-destructive sexual encounter. But the specter of losing control, of having some strange void inside that needed to be constantly filled with masochism and abuse, was less scary because of the bond between them. For this reason, they knew they didn’t need to hold back… and could give in to the feelings that would have immolated them with any other partner.

“Mother… you muff-diving… ass-licking dyke!” Jaina groaned through their kiss. “You see fit to judge me… and yet you were drinking the piss of that fat pig, straight from her pussy!”

“The place where my grandchild was supposed to grow… is filled with bumps and scar tissue!” Katherine moaned. “Your womb is totally ruined, Jaina! Because you let so many men with huge cocks use you as a toilet!” She began to fist more vigorously, kneading the walls of Jaina’s womb with her knuckles. Lubrication splattered her arm and leaked down to the bed.

“Your body is… so indecent” Katherine went on. “Your womb… is sucking on my fist as if it was a cock!”

“And you, mother… you’re wet as can be… for your own daughter!” Jaina seethed. She hooked her fingers into her mother’s tight pussy and started to rub vigorously. Their bodies were now deeply entwined. “Wet for my huge tits and my fat, round ass! What have you been up to since father died? Have you been cruising around Boralus, searching for an innocent young girl to suck your dyke pussy?”

Their scolding and hot kissing degenerated into nothing but moans and the thrusting of hips as they rutted. When the first climax came, all Jaina could say was ‘mother!’ while Katherine called out ‘Jaina!’ as they squirted in hot, spraying ropes that stained each other, and the bedspread. Katherine’s arm slid out of Jaina’s cunt with a lewd, meaty noise, covered in creamy cunt-foam.

After their shared orgasmic undulations were complete, they lay on their hips, embracing, and facing each other.

“The curse of our family,” Katherine moaned, softly. “There is a darkness inside us, daughter. But… we can share it, together.” They shared a sloppy kiss and made smoldering eye contact. After a moment, Jaina embraced her mother. 

“I will wipe away Priscilla’s touch,” whispered Jaina, and then gently began to roll her mother over. With all the cake she’d added to her thighs, hips, breasts, and ass, she was now the larger and more forceful woman between the two, with Katherine being much more slender. And being slender, she looked unbelievably alluring as Jaina arranged her so that she was on her hands and knees, displaying her athletic, sinewy bubble butt, her tight pussy, the perfect pink triangle of her anus… and also her breasts, which barely hung down at all because of her trim physique.

“Jaina… you musn’t,” Katherine whined. “It is… too disgraceful…”

Jaina crawled up behind her mother and slapped two palms down on her narrow buttocks… then spread her. Unconsciously, Katherine tilted forward to press her chest against the bedspread, keeping her shapely butt upthrust and high, exposing her pussy and asshole lewdly.

“Mother,” Jaina moaned, and kissed one of the older woman’s buttocks, licking along the curved flesh. “Let me do as a daughter should.”

“N-no! It is… too- aaah!” Katherine’s eyes went wide as Jaina’s talented tongue circled the rim of her anus. “I can’t believe… my precious…daughter…” she choked out, “...is an ass-licking dyke for her own mother!” Her back arched as Jaina buried her pretty face between Katherine’s cheeks and pressed her long, powerful tongue against her anus until it eventually opened up and allowed her inside.

Jaina made purring moans as spit flowed and formed a white, bubbly layer around her mouth as she hollowed out her cheeks into a tube and planted sucking, devouring kisses on Katherine’s anus, which formed a divot-like, triangular pink slot which was a perfect fit for her mouth. 

Slllllllllllrk-pop! Slllllllllllrrrr-pop! Jaina’s mouth made the splattery sound of oral worship as she groped her mother’s taut buttocks and sucked her ass. The two women moaned out in pleasure together as the sordid act of intimacy proceeded. Jaina’s saliva combined with the wetness from Katherine’s cunt and dripped down the insides of her thighs. “Ah… mother!” Jaina moaned, thick stands of spin connecting her mouth to her mother’s asshole. “You’re so wet from this… how many young Kul Tiran sailor girl faces did you sit on after father passed away, you clam-diving cougar?”

Katherine moaned out in protest. “Jaina! How dare you imply that!” She purred out helplessly as Jaina reinserted her tongue and started to aggressively swab the insides of her bowels. “That’s just something your twisted imagination made up… it was… your father who taught me to like it… ah!” She seethed out a breath as pleasure overwhelmed her. “He would… rape my ass with his huge cock after returning from every voyage… the only way I could bear it was if he’d loosen me up first with his tongue!”

“Mother!” Jaina gasped. “You mean, daddy was-”

“Keep licking, my daughter!” Katherine insisted, pressing her bottom back against Jaina’s face. “Use that sharp tongue of yours to clean out my ass! Slurp out all the bumps and crevices that your father put there with his fat cock!”

“Mmmmmp! Mmmm mmm mmm-mwah!” Jaina made an extravagant show of licking her mother’s anus as deep as it could, causing it to open up and become loose just as her father had done before her. She even applied suction and made the ring of muscle bulge outward, fellating it like a cock and making Katherine moan with pleasure. The spit and lubrication flowed, and both of their breathing was speeding up. Katherine reached back, spread her labia, and started to cry out as she squirted and pissed all over Jaina’s tits.

Jaina eyes rolled back as she felt the hot stream explore on her chest and splatter them both. She straightened her tongue into a dagger shape and started to bob her head down and up, stabbing into her mother’s blossoming ass-flower as hard as she could, punctuating each penetration with a spit-soaked, sucking oral pop. After a few seconds, she pressed one of her bulbous breasts into her mother’s undercarriage and started rub her slit with a fat, erect nipple, stimulating her clit.

“Mother… you horny old bitch!” Jaina groaned, obviously about to orgasm herself. “You’ve just been waiting for a chance… to make me to suck your ass!”

“Y-yes!” Katherine wailed. “I’m a disgrace… but so are you, Jaina!” She cried out desperately as her orgasm overtook her. “Lick my asshole you fat sluuuuuuuuut!”

Their words turned into moans and then twined together as their bodies quaked. And so it was with them, for the next hour. Endless permutations of their bodies caressing, scissoring, licking, kissing, and sucking… tangled in silken bed sheets that became increasingly damp with their squirt and piss.

They accused each other of the most debauched kind of depravity, and admitted to every dark act of sexual vice they had engaged in. They spoke frankly about the circumstances around Daelin’s death… and any lingering bitterness that remained. When it was over, both felt cleansed, in a strange way - their mutual orgasms had washed away the past… leaving behind a mother and daughter who understood each other's anxieties, needs, and goals.

When it was over, they lay side by side, Katherine’s slender body contrasted with Jaina’s hyper- voluptuous one. “If we are to bring the fight to Ashzara, and pursue Priscilla to rescue our captured women” Jaina said, “I will need to return to Stormwind and marshal a coalition of forces.” She paused and gave a meaningful look to her mother. “And you must come with me.”

“Of course, my daughter,” Katherine agreed. “We will both be… safest… knowing our needs are being seen to.”

“Umm… hello,” Anduin said, awkwardly… and extended his hand in a traditional greeting of the human kingdoms. He hadn’t planned to produce a son as a result of the ceremony that made Tyrande into the Night Whore - it had just happened. And truth be told, he hadn’t thought much about the boy since that time. His son had remained in the regrown Teldrassil, growing and learning as part of the great reclamation of the Night Elf race. After the events of the time bubble and Kil’Kron occupation, and Orath’s subsequent rise as a result of Jaina’s scheme to turn night elf hybrids into weapons of war and sexual revenge - the kal’dorei had been something of a lost race, to be tended and nurtured as one might preserve an endangered species. 

Anduin had been dimly aware of Tyrande and Malfurion’s efforts to uncuck night elf males (who had been selectively bred to have small penises for generations inside the time bubble) and restore the proud traditions of their people. He had been too busy to check in on the progress, trusting Tyrande to handle it. He knew that Chromie had been involved, and was using accelerated time to restore the environment of Teldrassil and aid the night elves in repopulating and producing new generations who weren’t mind-broken dicksluts and premature-ejaculating sissies.

It hadn’t occurred to Anduin, however, that this accelerated time environment would result in his son - who had been born perhaps eighteen months prior - being approximately his age. The ‘boy’ was actually a fully-developed male human/kal’dorei hybrid with a shining mane of blonde hair, golden eyes, and a spectacular, lanky, otter-bodied physique. He returned the handshake powerfully.

“Father,” he said, and his voice was deeper than Anduin’s. “I am Arryn. My mother kept my heritage from me so that I would not be treated with undue favor by our people. I have been studying our traditions and our magic for twenty years, while also training in the ways of combat.”

“Well, that’s… excellent to hear,” Anduin said. He paused and then added: “Son.” It was as awkward as it sounded. The boy was not only a head taller than him but unbelievably handsome… and his loincloth was absolutely bulging with what looked like a barely-concealed Deviate Python. Whatever Tyrande, Malfurion and the rest were doing to undo the stunted sexual development of male night elves, it was working.

Indeed, all of Teldrassil was healing. The oil-spewing machinery of the Venture Company had all been removed. Moonwells were filled with enchanted water again, instead of whores wallowing in cum. The taint of disgrace was largely absent… though Anduin couldn’t help but notice that his son looked uncannily like one of the hybrid warriors who had started Orath’s crusade. Supernaturally handsome, striated muscles, abdominal muscles like cobblestones, and iliac gutters you could run a stream through. Not to mention-

“Don’t worry,” Tyrande whispered playfully in Anduin’s ear. “He’s no threat to you. You should be proud… to have such a handsome son with a massive, twenty-four inch penis.” Anduin’s face flushed at the whisper, but he calmed down quickly. He supposed it was just to be expected, producing a child with Tyrande, who was one of the most sexualized female beings in the entire realm. Even as they stood there as a family, she wore a flowing white dress that couldn’t come close to containing her absolutely obscene, globe-shaped tits, and the fat twin bubble of her ass. Not to mention shapely calf muscles, shoulders, ankles. A statuesque female who was obviously an absolute fuck machine , and strong-willed to boot. Hence her insistence that their son, Arryn, be brought into the fold.

“So,” Arryn ventured. “Mother says I am to be brought to Stormwind, to be at court.”

“Oh. Yes.” Anduin had almost forgotten Tyrande’s reason for dragging him along. “It is time for Stormwind to learn of its new prince. When my reign as king is over… Arryn… you will sit on the throne as the first prince of two bloods. You will unite our lands, and erase the stain of recent wars from the history of Azeroth.” He reached a hand out and put it on Arryn’s powerful shoulder. He had to reach up to do it.”

“Thank you, father,” Arryn said, in his deep and rumbling voice. “I will strive to be worthy of this honor.” Tyrande made a cooing noise and pressed in close to give her son a hug… causing her absolutely massive breasts to bulge up against him like two spheres filled with gelatin. Anduin wasn’t sure… but he thought he detected Arryn’s pinkish-purple complexion blushing.

Don’t worry, kid , he thought. Your mother has that effect on everyone .

This warm, embracing family moment was disturbed by a mighty explosion in the distance - cannonfire. That, and the sound of rough seas, was emanating from down below, on the coastline of Teldrassil, where ships could harbor. Anduin, Arryn, and Tyrande exchanged looks of alarm. “That came from Rut’theran Village!” Arryn exclaimed. “We must go to their aid! We cannot allow Rut’theran to be destroyed again!”

Because of its location in proximity to Teldrassil proper, Rut’theran had been the site of many attacks from rival factions - including the Kil’Kron and various horde elements. It had been destroyed before, but now was rebuilt as part of the Night Elf restoration.

The trio did not have to scramble far to be of help - a portal connecting Rut’Theran to the top of Teldrassil was within a minute’s run. And so they made their way there, fearing the worst, expecting to be in combat as soon as they stepped through.

In this, they were not disappointed. As they stepped out onto the beach, ships with tattered sails - as if they were wrecks raised from the ancient deep - were bombarding the village. Naga of all sea shades were slithering out of the water, by the dozens. And in the waves could be detected the dark, tentacled movements of kraken and other horrors… unspeakable beings from the age of N’Zoth.

Anduin brandished his sword, and Tyrande her blades. “With me!” cried the boy king, and he charged forward into the approaching naga. Arryn, meanwhile, formed great green balls of natural energy and propelled them toward the arriving forces… even entwining them in vines with the wave of a hand.

Malfurion was also on the beach, fighting a group of Naga, and called out to the new arrivals. “Be careful, beloved!” he said to Tyrande, seemingly unable to let go of their prior affection even though Tyrande had left to satisfy her urges with Anduin’s much larger human dick. “I sense a great power beneath the waves!”

No sooner had the warning been issues than long, limber, many-suckered tentacles burst from the waves and races outward with frightening agility, encircling the limbs of Malfurion, Anduin, Tyrande, and Arryn within seconds, and pulling them taut such that they were suspended in the air and couldn’t move. They cried out in surprise and frustration as a writhing mass of tentacles unfurled from the place where the emerging naga were most concentrated, unrolling like a welcoming carpet toward the beach. Unnatural tentacles that were purple and black, and had striking orange eyes in various places along their length.

Then they saw her. A female shal’dorei elf of astonishing grace and frightening beauty, walking toward them along that tentacle path, her feet bejeweled with anklets, her figure unparalleled in its feminine shape. Regal. Wearing a dazzling dress that was at once immodest and fancy- a show of beauty and of wealth. Her ears were perfect dagger triangles of bruised purple, and her large and expressive eyes hungry for power, even as they also filled with lust. One could look upon her once and imagine her as the social center or a city… or an entire civilization. The absolute epitome of a queen.

“Azshara!” Tyrande hissed out, and struggled against her tentacle bonds.

The newcomer’s laugh seemed to echo through the very sky. “Who else?” she said, and her voice was a slick, flowing burgundy that seemed steeped in power. “I couldn’t resist looking in on my descendants… so like little children you are, always getting up to mischief.”

The tentacles swarmed and ripped the clothing from all four combatants in seconds, leaving each completely naked. Tyrande’s massive tits hung nearly to her waist. Arryn and Anduin were suspended next to each other… and the father looked sheepishly at the son’s enormous, hanging penis… which even flaccid was twice as large as Anduin’s and reached well past his knee. Of course, both of them looked positively huge next to Malfurion, who thanks to years of brutal cucking, had a penis that had shrunk to the size of a thumb.

“Mmm… Tyrande,” Azshara cooed, smiling. “You’ve come so far since you were my party favor. I remember taking you back to my chambers… you were such an eager girl-”

“I will destroy you!” Tyrande cried out, the words clipped off by her intense accent. “I am the Night Whore! My power has grown to match yours!”

Azshara laughed deeply, long and loud… and then her body began to change. Her shapely legs shimmered, then combined and split into three ribbed tentacles. She gained about two feet in height… and her bright eyes clouded, filled with sickly orange, which opened with cat-like slits. Along the crown of her head, her hair was replaced with an octopus-like ridge that also bristled with extra eyes. 

All of the defenders felt the same power that Malfurion had sensed. Ancient, inscrutable, terrifying power. No one dared say the name… but in unison, they all thought of N’Zoth, and Ny'alotha, and the ancient prison of unnumbered crimes, where broken slaves trudged in the tens of thousands…

“Ah… these visions in my head!” Arryn cried, gritting his teeth. “Get them out!” As he bellowed, a tentacle emerged from the main mass and, moving with agility, coiled around his big hanging penis, beginning to masturbate it.

“Leave my son alone!” Tyrande roared. She soon was also accosted by tentacles that slid up her naked pussy and asshole, making her groan with unwanted pleasure. Anduin wasn’t spared either, as a tentacle jerked his penis as well.

“No doubt you sense the seed of a conqueror in his massive cock,” Azshara said. Her voice echoed across the sea, as if some great and omnipotent force was magnifying it. “He will serve me,” Azshara went on. “Come to Nazjatar. Seek me out, if you can. I will open the way. There, you will all be slaves.” She laughed cruelly. “The force that destroyed your world… it is not gone. It is only sleeping beneath the waves!” He laughed maniacally at this declaration, and her eyes seemed to flash.

“We will not allow you to corrupt this place again!” Malfurion cried out, and struggled against his tentacle bonds with a burst of green energy. A great power that threatened the world… was Azshara speaking of N’Zoth? Or something more? “We will defeat you! When we fought during the War of the Ancients-”

Azshara laughed, and the tentacles established their grip, putting an end to Malfurion’s minor show of rebellion. “I have nothing to fear from a novice druid I defeated 10,000 years ago!” she seethed. “And besides, your tiny dick and balls have shrunk to the size of an acorn, from watching your beloved Tyrande happily get gangbanged by monster orc cocks and give birth to their offspring for millenia! In fact… perhaps you and the boy king need a rabbit to chase!”

The tentacles coining around Tyrande’s limbs seemed to flex powerfully, tightening their grip and drawing a moan of pain and anger from her lips. Seconds later, they withdrew with frightening speed, still clutching her, drawing her across the beach and into the sea.

“No!” Anduin roared.

Arryn’s eyes widened in alarm. “Mother!” But neither he nor Anduin could move - they could only watch as Tyrande was pulled beneath the waves. 

Azshara laughed in triumph again… but this time she was interrupted by a volley of arrow fire and spell bursts from the Alliance side that pierced many tentacles and forced some of them to withdraw. More defenders - archers, mages and druids - were hitting the beach, via the portal from the great tree above. Azshara made a noise of frustration and raised a magical barrier to defend herself from the withering ranged fire. But her concentration was now divided, and each of her resourceful opponents began to find a way to wriggle out of their tentacle prison. Dozens of naga fell on the shoreline, and tentacles were pierced and destroyed. Considering that, she floated backward in retreat.

“Come then, if you want to rescue your Night Whore!” she taunted, slithering backward on her tripartite tentacle base. Nazjatar will be your grave!” She screeched out the last words, and then disappeared beneath the waves off of the Rut’theran coast. The remaining naga and tentacles soon followed.

After that intense five minute encounter, Malfurion, Anduin, and Arryn were left crouched on the beach, breathing hard… and rather embarrassingly naked. Arryn couldn’t seem to make eye contact, scandalized by the intimacy that Azshara had shown him and his mother before her kidnapping. When he turned to Anduin and the rage in his face was clear. “Father,” he said. “I shall return to Stormwind and help you raise a mighty army. We will descend beneath the waves, rescue mother, and destroy Azshara.”

Anduin nodded, his face determined. It seemed that the fragile peace of the post-Orath era was over. A shame…but there was nothing for it. Orath’s crusade had planted a debauched and dark seed in the deep… and they would have to pull it out by the root.

“Yes,” said the King of Stormwind. “We will.” They joined hands. Malfurion added his.

“We are allies once again,” he said, in his deep and aged voice. “You will have my aid.”

The three naked males exchanged determined, but rather embarrassed, glances. Anduin’s thick, nine-inch penis would have ordinarily been the largest in almost any gathering of males… but here it was the middle child in a series of three members that tended to the extremes. Despite Malfurion’s powerful physique, his penis was still tiny - small enough to cover with one leaf. And on the other end of the spectrum, Arryn’s cock was thick as Anduin’s wrist and hanging down to his knee. Anduin considered how the legacy of Orath seemed to haunt the males of the Alliance.

Malfurion coughed into his fist and removed his hand, looking down self-consciously at his penis. “R-right. Well,” he said. “I’m sure I can contribute to our efforts despite any… shortcomings.” 

It was decided that Anduin and Arryn would return to Stormwind to raise an army, while Malfurion would remain in Teldrassil, continuing the work of teaching the kal’dorei males and making sure their proud history was not lost. The best of his students would join the rescue force.

Anduin wouldn’t admit it, but he wanted to spare the old night elf any further small-penis-humiliation from Azshara. He also realized, deep down, that a captured Tyrande could be used against Malfurion. Arryn, too. 

Dark times were coming again. He would have to prepare the boy for that possibility.

Sylvanas Windrunner was listening to Princess Talanji talk. 

“The seas have parted,” Talanji said, in her thick island accent. “Your Horde has come to us in a strange time, and you have brought strange turmoil with you.” She was standing at the apex of a great golden temple, staring out off of the coast, where the edge of the great hole leading down to Nazjatar could barely be glimpsed as a glimmer of mist and white foam.

“It is not the right time to place our fleet in your hands,” she was saying. “We have blood trolls to worry about, the bickering between my father’s advisors… and the rise of a strange and powerful cult here in the swamp of Nazmir…”

Telanji was much taller than Sylvanas, a regal troll princess, adorned in a headdress and anklets and piercings of gold. She had taken over the ruling of Zandalar following the death of her father, God King Rastakhan. Yet as much attention as she commanded, Sylvanas found her mind wandering. 

She did not like being in the position of asking for help. Not one bit. She was used to taking what she needed. And what she needed was the Zandalari fleet. Yet the Horde, still reeling from Orath’s war, was in no position to threaten. 

Not for the first time, Sylvanas cursed herself for letting Jaina Proudmoore go in the prisoner exchange. She would have gleefully kept her and watched the fat-assed, huge-titted whore get raped by abominations for months or years, if not for moderate elements in her own government who essentially forced her to placate the Alliance.

Sylvanas snarled to herself. Her embarrassingly large tits, pillowed over her crossed arms, were a constant reminder of the humiliation she’d endured at Jaina’s hands. The frost bitch would have made a perfect diplomatic gift to the Zandalari, who had no love for the Kul Tirans, their rivals on the waves. Surely there were trolls who would have delighted in watching Jaina get destroyed by five feet of waist-thick brutosaur cock!

The idea of this brought the first smile to Sylvanas’ face that had been there in days. Now, feeling devious, she went to work. “Your father wishes to remain neutral,” Sylvanas said, “But you yourself hold great sway. It is your influence alone that can save Zandalar.”

She moved close to Talanji and spoke with fake earnestness. “Our spies have learned that the Alliance just gained access to the bulk of the Kul Tiran navy. They plan to sabotage the Golden Fleet and attack at Dazar’Alor.”

Talanji turned sharply and looked down at Sylvanas. “They wouldn’t dare!” she said.

“Even now, SI:7 agents are interfering in your lands,” Sylvanas went on. She did not really believe the Alliance would attack… not with the looming threat of Azshara, which her spies had also told her about. They would keep the Kul Tiran fleet back to defend the home islands, and to ferry troops to Nazjatar - the real target. But there was no reason for Talanji to know that. The more she considered the Alliance a threat, the more chance she had of convincing her father to lend his ships to the Horde.

Talanji was perhaps more shrewd than Sylvanas had expected or hoped, however. She narrowed her eyes and spoke her answer in measured tones. “And I’m sure you have evidence of this plot, ready to show me. Perhaps fabricated just for this purpose.”

Sylvanas’ eyes narrowed as well. “I’m only trying to warn you,” she started. But she was cut off at once.

“I accept warnings from trusted friends,” Talanji growled. “Not from bloodthirsty strangers. The Alliance knows an attack would only drive us into your arms. They would be fools to attack Dazar’Alor! Not even the dumbest storyteller would invent such a thing!”

Sylvanas’ face tightened even more. Oh, how she longed for the days of war, when she could simply have a gang of orcs and tauren spit-roast the uncooperative troll bitch until she choked out her acquiescence around two-feet of musky cock! The desire surprised her with its fierceness, but unlike Jaina, she was able to accept the trauma of war as part of herself.

Before the situation could deteriorate any further, however, a great commotion rose up on the temple tier below, and half-heard yells escalated all the way up to the higher tier where they stood, until a troll messenger came and knelt at Talanji’s feet.

He spoke in gasping fits, his limbs quivering. “My queen! A great beast has stirred in the Temple of Vol’dun… it… it has risen! The seal has been broken-”

“Jak’razet!” Talanji roared, clenching her fists as she said the name of the Sandfury general who served on her father’s council. “I never trusted that scum! And now, to return the Warbringer-”

But Sylvanas was already walking away toward the flight master, her boobs bouncing and her perfect ass shaking. “I will show you!” she called back to the princess. “That I am the most powerful friend and ally you could wish for!”

Ten seconds later, she was airborne.

Mythrax was visible on the horizon far before Sylvanas was in striking range. The immense size of the Cthaxxi Warbringer had to be seen to be believed. It seemed to dwarf the temple it had been sealed beneath, rising perhaps a hundred feet into the hair, a huge and lobster-like bipedal monstrosity that was causing swathes of destruction as it moved out toward the coast.

Even for Sylvanas, arguably the strongest fighter in the Horde, and one of the strongest beings in Azeroth, this ancient terror would be a challenge. She got the first hit from afar, piercing the beast with dozens of shadow-infused arrows… but it did not even slow down. And so the conflict was joined and the landscape was denuded of trees and vegetation in a large scar out to the sea, as blasts of coruscating dark energy were exchanged. Mythrax seemed to shrug off Sylvanas’ blows, and Sylvanas was too nimble to be hit by enormous energy bursts and massive claws.

Sylvanas was smiling and laughing, not even aware of it. She was reveling in violence and destruction, and if her allies in the Horde would have seen her, they would have doubtless wondered about her sanity and her ability to lead, so gleeful was her expression as she reduced entire thickets of vegetation to ash and destroyed outcroppings and cliffs with exploding shadow arrows. The carnage did not stop until she could smell the sea air at the Port of Zem’lan, the occupants of which had all fled in wear as they saw the path of destruction approach.

There, with her back to the sea, Sylvanas sensed Mythrax weakening. Once the monster fell, the Zandalari would hail her as a hero… and their integration into the Horde would be assured. And perhaps that headstrong Talanji would be ’convinced’ to accept an abomination boyfriend, as an ‘apology’ for doubting her!

This was the last thought in her mind before she realized the monster was hesitating for a different reason than she thought. And then, following that realization… the whip of impossibly strong, constructing tentacles around her body. She let a surge of shadow energy explode outward from her… and somehow, the tentacles withstood the blast. 

“Herded like a sheep.” That voice, echoing through the entire land. As cultured and arrogant as Sylvanas’ own. There were perhaps less than five beings on Azeroth who could withstand the full force of the Banshee Queen… but Azshara was one of them.

“You bitch!” Sylvanas hissed. “Let me go!”

Azshara only laughed. Her physical form had changed into something cephaloid and horrible - multiple eyes, a tentacled body. And yet, like Sylvanas, she still had a forbidden, twisted sort of beauty. She waved a hand and the sea drew back, forming a path to the depths.

“The trolls may not appreciate what you offer, Sylvans,” Azshara taunted. “But I have need of you. Hahahaha!”

And with that laugh, the sharp pull of the tentacles, yanking Sylvanas down that unnatural water corridor, to an uncertain fate. 

The Banshee Queen’s last thought was that she would see Azshara humiliated, no matter the cost.

The bedchamber Azshara used to confine Tyrande and Sylvanas was circular and had glass walls on every side, through which the light from bioluminescent creatures cast a glow that cut through the darkness of the deep. The bed at the center was large and luxurious, the sort of extravagant sleeping device Azshara might have had as Queen of the Shal’dorei. Indeed, it might have been salvaged from Suramar itself.

On it lay Sylvanas and Tyrande, both naked, both immobilized by slimy, binding tentacles that seemed to slither up from beneath the bed. Two women with exaggerated bodies - Sylvanas slender with huge, embarrassing tits. Tyrande with perhaps the greatest ass in all the realms, and a huge pair of tits of her own - though her amazonian height made them fit slightly better on her frame.

Two women who absolutely hated each other, caught in the same trap.

“Did you have something to do with this, you whore?” Tyrande seethed at Sylvanas. 

“You must be stupid to ask, as you see me in the same bindings as you,” Sylvanas replied. “But then, you always were a dumb bitch.” Both of them had seen about as much sexual torment and humiliation as possible, and survived it… but this fact brought them no closer to being comrades.

Their charming conversation was interrupted by the soft patter of dainty feet on the floor… and the weighty clump-clomp of heavier ones. They craned their necks to the ornate entranceway to see the new arrivals: Azshara in her dazzlingly beautiful quel’dorei form… and a naked figure that both Sylvanas and Tyrande knew all too well.

Orath. The tyrant and conqueror who had led his armies of sexual domination across all of Azeroth, bringing both the Alliance and Horde to heel before a coalition of warriors had defeated him. Tyrande’s mouth was half-open to say ‘it can’t be!’ but then she realized that it could . She knew well what had happened at the moment of Orath’s defeat, every member of the rebel coalition knew it. 

Though gravely wounded, Orath had not died… at the last moment, he had been pulled through a portal to an uncertain fate. And now, it seemed clear who had been responsible. 

He was changed, that much was certain. The Orath they had known was a sexual beast of limitless appetite and dominant ego. Sylvanas had seen the effect many times. Whenever some crazed member of the Apothecary Society wished to show her his ‘latest creation’, usually a stitched together beast of great physical power, she sensed a mad creator’s pride in raising a beast to do their bidding.

She got the same sense here, from Azshara. She was introducing her monster . Resurrected by her magic and careful attention. This Orath carried more battle scars on his muscled hybrid body. His eyes had a slightly more orange-tinted glow than they had. Subtle changes. But one thing was still the same.

His massive, two foot cock that was as thick as Tyrande’s fit, athletic bicep. Hanging down past his knee, in front of a swaying, sloshing pair of hyper-virile balls. Balls that produced so much sperm, a fat spurt of it emerged from his pisshole, without him even being conscious of it, and splattered the tile of the bedchamber floor.

Azshara saw the eyes of her two captives follow Orath’s penis, and laughed.

“Well,” she purred, sitting down on the bed. “Perhaps we should have some fun while we wait for your friends .”

Azshara cackled villainous laughter. Orath approached. And Tyrande and Sylvanas could only brace themselves for what was to come.