Learn your fate

"But... I am a male!" you protest, even as some unfamiliar impulse makes you shift and stir, arching your back to slide your father's fingertip to your sticky, shivering butthole, where he strokes and circles. In return, you rock in place, forward and back, your seething sack, heavy with your urgent need for release, stroking him hard beneath you.

"Hush, and I will tell you our secret." Your father's hand, firm on your collar, draws your face down to his chest. Your short tusk catches on a heavy bronze nipple-ring, and you give a shy tug, then a teasing flick of your tongue. "Good boy," your father murmurs in your ear, and arches beneath you so that you can feel him stiffen fully in response. "Your body knows, already. And it seems our enemies have learned as well. Go ahead and play with your dong, if you like. I will explain."

You blush with shame, but the taste of his sweat, his thickness under your stroking sack, and the shameless shiver of your quivering, brown pucker against his relentlessly teasing fingertip override your ****. Even as the guards rib each other, cat-call and jeer, your hand finds your own cock where it seeps and strains at your skimpy, greasy loincloth, to squeeze and tease and pump yourself slowly. You understand you'll have no release this way – only compound the churning weight, the driving need in your balls. Your guards know, too. As does your father. You don't stop.

"Your Elf-blood, son - it is a risk we took. Dangerous to waken, and impossible to satisfy," your father begins. He drags your face back to his rank, hairy armpit, where you nuzzle in again, as he murmurs terrible things, breath hot against your ear, teasing and toying with your tight. hot bud slowly, stroking himself with your sliding sack, all the while. "That need you feel, goading you to breed or die, so that you can milk your meat as long as you dare but no matter how much pre you soak yourself with, your need to cum only increases. A need you have been deepening every day and night since your first pubes sprouted – and don't think the whole tribe hasn't noticed, son - that you have been told can only find release one way?"

You listen and nod, breathless, arching, squirming, between your father's rough finger circling and plying, your seething nuts stroking him hard, and your own hand only deepening your urgent, demanding, brain-dulling arousal. You had know that much. How many days and nights had you spent, in love with your own greasy dong, tugging, squeezing, even trying to suck it, knowing that this would only teach your body to make more and more potent Orc-cum, to be released only when you found a mate? Your father's hand on your collar drags you back to his nipple, where you tongue and suck at the ring there. "Good slut," he murmurs. "Now, hear the truth."

"Deep inside you, in here," he continues, caressing your squirming, sensitive butthole slowly, "is a gift, a curse, a secret spot – a dirty, slutty, Elvish thing." You listen in horror - or is it in depraved, perverse wonder? – as the guards chuckle to see you, shuddering with your Orc-rut, spread for your own father like an Elf-whore, milking your meat all the while. "If ever you surrender yourself, here, to your slutty, whorish love of Orc-cock, domineering and masculine like a Breeding Orc should be, that spot, that filthy Elvish curse, will let you cum." You moan wordlessly, squirming to tease your own stick brown butthole as your useless cock throbs and drools in your fist.

Your father's finger slows as you squirm, letting the moment draw on as he continues to instruct you. "Indeed - more than just let you cum, son. If you ever allow that, even once, though your Orcish breeding drive will never diminish, you will, forever after, only ever find the release you crave with your greasy, slutty shithole bred rough and raw on thick, demanding, dominant, Breeding-Male Orc-cock, just like a squirming, filthy, Elvish boy-whore. Do you understand now, son?"

"I... I understand." you manage, blushing with a shame that only deepens your need to cum further.

He drags your face back to rub deep into his dank, rank armpit, and you nuzzle in eagerly like a wallowing swine as he speaks again, right aganst your ear. "Do you want me to stop, slut?"

Beneath you, your father's massive Orcish cock twitches and throbs. Your own twitches and seeps in your grip. You know that he is offering you a last chance to refuse, to escape. All your pride and self-esteem that you have built for years, knowing you were destined to breed and lead, all your dreams and dignity to be crushed like a sunpus fruit, to reduce you to no more than a quivering cock-puppet, a toy for the pleasure of breeding bulls and whoever they chose to share you with. You press back, imagining that spot inside you, that dirty, slutty, Elvish thing that could change you forever.

You already know your answer.