Human Barracks on the Frontline

Xena and Stella appear in the middle of a large tent packed full of human soldiers. Half of them pull out a weapon upon seeing the weird new duo.

“Keep your weapons sheathed,” the witch orders. They know her; They listen to her order.

“What is the meaning of this?” asks a heavily-armored paladin, the ivory tower of Gallade glistening on her breastplate.

“This,” she explains, “is the daughter of the orc’s chieftain. She has been a very bad girl, and I’ve brought her here to apologize.”

Xena feels beads of sweat forming all over her body. The clothes she is wearing are obscene, and now dozens of angry-looking men and women are leering at her with lust, hatred, or a bit of both. She desperately wants to cover herself, but her body does not respond to her anymore.

A burly man with dirt on his face approaches the tall green woman, eyeing her up and down. “My my, isn’t she ashamed to be dressed so… wantonly?” He looks down at the massive veiny cock hanging between her legs. Xena’s cheeks burn with shame as she watches the event unfold, unable to hide her dick from him or anyone else for that matter.

“Wasn’t it the warchief’s son you did capture, miss?” asks a man with a large scar on his forehead.

“She did go by a masculine identity before falling into my clutches, yes,” Stella responds, giving some gentle slaps on her plaything’s rump to emphasize her point. “But she is much happier now, isn’t that right, fucktoy?”

Xena does not respond. She is hoping that if she wills it hard enough, she might just vanish from this place. The perverse eyes scrutinizing her lewd appearance are making her extremely nervous.

“She’s still a bit shy, but give it a week or two serving you braves ladies and gentlemen, and she’ll be a good cheerful fuckdoll.”