The Prince and the Orc Queen Ch. 01

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The orc queen conquers the humans and claims what she wants.
21.3k words
4.34
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Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 08/21/2017
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All characters depicted in sexual acts are over the age of 18

Contains: (femdom, futanari, futanari on male, orcs, muscle, violence, fantasy)

This one takes a while to get to the sexy bits but I hope you can enjoy it anyway.

*

The air was filled with the screeches of metal on metal and the groans of the wounded and dying. Softly the wind whispered along the ground and carried the sounds of battle throughout the field, creating a constant muffled backdrop for the periodic and erratic noises from the soldiers to be played against. Loudest of all was the crows. The gigantic murder circled the battlefield hungrily. Countless black marbles were cast down, staring sideways at the spectacle of violence and gore happening beneath them. The shadow of the birds was cast straight down by the overhead sun. It created a black inky mass that swept along the ground, swallowing up the thousands of corpses littering the area. Soon they would descend upon the field in the thousands and feast on the remains of the defeated, but not yet.

The battle below was on its last leg, the outcome obvious to all involved. Yet still it raged on. The invaders had successfully driven the imperial army back from the distance hill where the battle was intended to have taken place and were now chasing them all the way to the doorstep of the capital. Hundreds of thousands of bodies marked the path that the fight had taken through the countryside, creating a huge bloody smear across the landscape. The thick grass that had just hours earlier been a bright vibrant green was now stained a dark violent red. The viscera seeped into the ground making it wet and slick, mixing into the dirt to create a disgusting muddy compound. The bodies of the dead slowly sunk into the mixture and the dying crawled pathetically through the mud, slipping in the gore as they went.

The sight of the gruesome battlefield frightened and horrified even the veteran soldiers of the imperial forces, But to the savage invaders it was business as usual. They had done the same to the nearby city to the east, as well as the ones to the north and southwest. One by one the had knocked down the major cities of the empire until all that remained was the capital city of Anzeir. Now they had it surrounded and it was time for it to taste the cruelty and might of their army. For they did not just conquer their victims, they decimated them. Entire towns and villages were torn down, buildings ripped apart brick by brick to leave their quarry nowhere to hide. Any person who spoke out or showed resistance was immediately slaughtered, be they woman, man, or child. Fields were salted and rivers poisoned. The people of the empire grew to fear the terrible invaders more than they ever thought possible. Tales of their ruthlessness ignited across the continent filling the heads of children and adults alike with a healthy terror. Their legend and horror was aided by the foreign armies strangeness to the people of the empire, for they were not human and therefore capable of unimaginable depravity. It was only in low whispers and frightened voices that they even dared utter the race of their subjugators, the Orcs.

For as long as anyone alive could remember the Orc tribes had lived in the distant north, well separated from human society. Few soles ever crossed from one territory to the other and little contact was had between them. For centuries it stayed that way, until a little more than half a year ago. They emerged from the mountains without warning or mercy and began to eat their way through the neighboring country from one end to the other. Their forces were surprisingly organized and disciplined for what most had assumed was a disparate collection of different tribes. Somehow they had united into a single cohesive force of unprecedented power. No one knew or could figure out what is was that brought them all together, or why they were even attacking in the first place. All attempts at diplomacy failed spectacularly and after more than a dozen parties of envoys were sent to the Orc vanguard and never returned it quickly became apparent that the Orcs could not be reasoned with.

Neither apparently, could they be defeated. The Orcs were powerful beings, most of them standing easily at seven foot or higher with broad shoulders and large frames. They seemed to naturally gain muscle with no effort at all and their bodies did not create fat, giving them statuesque physique. Their muscles and tendons moved beautifully beneath their thick green skin with an inherit grace that a human would have to train for years to achieve. The canine teeth of their lower jaw grew sharp and long, reaching out of their mouths and spreading their lips into a permanent devilish grin. The average human was no match at all for even a weakling Orc. It wasn't long into the war until despair began to set into the human empire. Even the most enthusiastic and optimistic among them came to realize the futility of their situation and despondency became the norm. Morale fell across the country and the Orc invasion only increased in speed and effectiveness. Worse still many felt, was that they didn't even get the dignity of being defeated by men.

There are no male Orcs. Even with their muscular bodies the Orcs could never be mistaken for anything but female. They still retained a surprisingly pleasant curvature even with their athletic stature, they typically had wide hips and full supple behinds. Their large breasts were perhaps the only soft parts of their bodies, kept perpetually perky by their tight taunt skin which seemed resistant to sagging. Even their faces managed to be pleasant and feminine despite their monstrous tusks. Despite their solidly ingrained status as objects of despise and terror, the human men could not help but feel a deep reluctant attraction to them that made their defeat all the more humiliating.

However, as news of the invasion spread there also came reports that not all of the Orc women were entirely identical to their human counterparts. In the place of men, Orcs had an entirely new gender among them that in their language were called "futa". These futa were at first indistinguishable from the females, except that they were perhaps slightly larger or stronger on the average. But if one were to look more, intimately, they would find a very large difference. The futa had penises like a man and lacked any female reproductive organs. While this news solved the oft asked question of how Orcs reproduced it did little to comfort women, many of whom thought they would at least be spared the indignity and horror of being raped by the conquering army. To make matters worse, the Orc cock apparently ranged in size from impressive to enormous. Also came reports that the Orcs were not afraid to use their equipment, they were creatures with an insatiable appetite for sex and seemed to care little how they got it or with whom and not even the human men were safe from their lust.

The hopefully exaggerated tales of their sexual depravity and violence were what weighed heavy on the mind of the lone retreating pikeman as he stumbled over the corpses of his comrades toward the looming city walls. Cold sweat sloshed around inside his armor and his heart thumped loudly against his chest plate as he ran into the shadow of the imperial palace which towered from the center of Anzeir. He gazed up at the gilded towers of the palace for what he realized would be the last time. Since the rule of Lambert the first those towers and magnificent castle had stood as a shining beacon of human civilization, a monument to mans achievements. Now they were all that was left of the empire of man. A deep realization struck him in that instance. This was it, man was defeated. The Orcs would soon take the capital and dethrone the royal family. They would probably wipe out the species entirely.

His running slowed down as he approached the city gates, he knew that they would not open for him. If he were somehow to get back inside he would most likely be executed for running from battle anyway. A numbness overtook him as he turned around to face his death and it took all his remaining will to keep from vomiting or soiling himself. Before him was the brunt of the Orc army, clad in thick metal and blood stained furs. They advanced towards him without hesitation, weapons drawn and freshly bloodied with the innards of his brothers. Those on horseback were out in front roaring ferociously towards him. He blinked and looked around in disbelief, they were all gone. Everyone else was dead. The Orcs had killed the entire army save one. He was all that stood in between the oncoming wave of red and green, and the rest of humanity.

He knew he couldn't surrender, he had heard stories of the unspeakable things that the Orcs did to their captives. As much as he feared the cold uncertainty of death, he was resolute that he would never allow himself to be soiled by one of those futa. He could barely breathe as he pulled his dagger from his belt and held it shakily in front of him, signaling his intent to fight on.

It wouldn't turn out to be much of a fight, as moments later a mounted Orc rushed forwards with a heavy iron mace raised high above her head. She leaned down from her horse, nearly falling from her saddle as she swung the weapon at the soldiers head. The already bloody hunk of metal lands directly across the side of the young mans jaw, and carried forth with the momentum of the galloping horse rends the lower half of his face from his head. A trail of bright blood and teeth follows the mace through the air as the warrior rides past him. His newly separated jawbone tumbles along the ground only to be stepped on and crushed by the horses slowing gait. The force of the blow pushes him hard onto his back and his own sticky blood floods down his throat. He lies there gagging and convulsing, his exposed tongue waggling furiously as he makes pathetic gargling noises.

The Orc on horseback continues to ride towards the city without even giving him the decency of a quick death, seemingly unaware or uncaring of his suffering. The rest of the Orc forces that march past him moments later similarly ignore his wailing and death throws. The army arrives at the massive wooden doors of the city's entrance and arrange themselves into disciplined lines before it. The Orcs at the front of every line sit on horse back and bear a purple insignia sown into their furs identifying them as captains. The captains reach into their saddle bags and each pull out ornately decorated ivory horns which they immediately put to their lips. An intake of breath later the horns emit in unison an intimidating bellow which flies over the walls and into the capital. The rest of the Orc army raise their weapons and let loose a roaring cheer as accompaniment.

On the immediate other side of the entrance stood 500 men of the royal guard, all with their lances pointed squarely at the doors before them. The last bastion of man. The combined cacophony of horns and Orc yells rattled their helmets and armor even through the thick wood of the doors. The trembling was difficult to notice however as many of the men were already gently shaking from fear. The enormity of the situation was not lost on a single soldier, they knew what was about to happen, they were all preparing for death.

Out of all of them however, the man who was most afraid was the one standing in the very back, atop the great stone steps of the city entryway. He was an elderly man, well into his 60's. A grand blue and gold cloaked was draped over his form, cascading down from his shoulders and gently sweeping the ground around him. Beneath it he wore a set of clothing no less opulent or expensive, all fringed with gold and spotted with jewels. Despite his age he still held himself with with a powerful air of strength and dignity. He stood tall and proud despite the terror churning inside him. The fate of all humans weighed heavily upon his brow, along with a gleaming circlet of gold and platinum. He was king Tormund LeoBold VIII.

He had ordered his guards to accompany him to the city gates to meet the invaders head on. Even in his later years king Tormund had a great deal of pride and courage. He knew as well as anyone that the humans had lost this war, but he would not have it said that they did not go out without a fight worthy of legend. It was not in his character to cower and hide in his castle while other men did the fighting for him, he was determined to confront the Orcs himself and to kill as many of the bastards as he could before they took him down. The time had come now, and the wolves were at the door. It might take the Orcs some time to break through the city's thick walls but they would make it eventually. However the king was not one for waiting and had no desire to prolong their eventual demise.

"Open the gates" he commanded.

Slowly the men pulled back the heavy iron latches and chains securing the massive doors and began turning the wheels of the doors mechanisms. The gears and chains of the gate groaned with effort as they pulled the doors inward, crying out in protest of the action which would surely end the lives of the city's inhabitants. The great doors opened to reveal the Orc army standing in line on the other side, armor and weapons stained red and dripping.

For a long moment the king and his guards stared down the much larger force. The air was still and the smell of death wafted through the opened gates, permeating through the city as a terrible forbearance of what was about to happen. Time passed and still no movement occurred. Eventually the men began to share nervous sidelong glances with each other, silently wondering why the Orcs had not yet advanced. The king wondered the same thing, he had deliberately opened the city to them yet they continued to stand there, motionless. The foreign army stood absolutely still, their expressions hidden behind heavy metal helmets making it impossible to guess what they were thinking.

Finally the king detected movement from their ranks. From the middle of the mass of Orcs a figure on horseback emerged. She rode upon a massive armored steed colored a deep consuming black anointed with brilliant golden plating. Upon its head was fastened a golden helm, the center from which sprouted a spiraling silver horn giving the animal the appearance of a mythical beast. The creature that rode upon it was no less magnificent. Her armor, unlike that of the common Orc soldiers was polished and gleaming with ornate patterns and shapes delicately inscribed onto it. From her broad shoulders flowed a fine silk cap dyed an angry red which pooled around her saddle and hung off the horse halfway to the ground. As her mount trotted forward into the city she reached up and removed her brilliantly shining helm to expose a stern yet womanly face. Her jet black hair was cropped into a short tuft on the top of her head and shaved completely on the sides. Small rings of silver and gold hung from her ears, ornamenting her otherwise unblemished green skin. She rode up to the very edge of the formation of men, until the tips of their lances were mere inches from her steeds face.

"Where is your king?" She barked at no one in particular.

Many men, including the king himself jumped slightly at the sound of her rough yet feminine voice. They had not expected the Orcs to speak their language.

"I am king Tormund LeoBold VIII" the king shouted over the heads of the other men after a moment passed. "The ruler of this realm and of all humanity."

The Orc leader stared at the old man with a blank expression before gently kicking her horse, signaling it to move forward. The beast raised its head to avoid the soldiers lances as it fearlessly advanced. The men, unsure of what to do as they were never ordered to attack simply gave way to the intimidating pair of creatures, parting to allow them to pass through their ranks unchallenged. The Orc completely ignored the men surrounding her, passing them by as if they were the air itself. Her gaze was permanently locked upon the king. Finally she emerged from the other side of the throng of men and signaled her mount to stop just short of trampling him. Even standing the Orc warrior would have towered over the king, but mounted she was almost double his height. She looked down at him with contempt, allowing the smallest of smirks to play across her face.

"I am Shaka Grog-Mal, the queen of the Orcs." she declared proudly.

"I wasn't aware that the orcs had a monarchy." responded the king. It was widely thought that the Orcs lived in small tribes scattered throughout their lands.

The Orc queen shrugged.

"Queen is the best word in your language for what I am. In our tongue I am called Haklug-Sen, which means that I command all Orcs and speak for them as well. It is close enough to a queen, I think."

The queen impressed him with how well she spoke English, she had an unusual accent which betrayed it as her second language but otherwise seemed perfectly comfortable speaking it.

"I have come to accept your surrender." She continued. "Your people will disarm themselves and bow before us or they will be destroyed."

A look of surprise splashed across the kings face. He had come here fully expecting to die, being given no mercy. That the invading creatures were not only capable of, but willing to negotiate surrender was a new thought for him. He looked again, more closely at the face above him searching for traces of kindness or humanity. He found none.

"Why, if you wish to negotiate do you wait until only now to reveal yourself to us?" He inquired.

"If I had come to you from the beginning and demanded your kingdom, you would have turned me away or killed me. Even if after my horde captured your cities I made this demand of you, you would still have refused believing you could still turn the war around and emerge victorious. Only after crushing your people and your hope can you realize that your kind is destined to be subservient to mine. Only once you have accepted this fate can we begin to work together."

There was truth to what she said, but in honesty the concept of diplomacy was foreign to the Orcs. In their culture power and strength ruled all, if there was a disagreement the winner was decided by might. In their society you were either dominant or submissive, there were no equals. By the time they had learned enough of the human language for the concept to be explained to them, they had already taken more than half the kingdom. Many among their ranks balked at the idea of fighting a war with words rather than weapons, but Shaka fancied herself an intelligent figure and she could plainly see the advantages ending a conflict without killing. Although the Orc army had solidly won every battle they were not without casualties, including some of Shaka's close friends. If the humans were weak willed enough to submit without a fight, it would mean that many more Orc lives saved as well as more able bodied slaves.

Tormund was divided by this new revelation. On a primal level he now realized that there was a chance for survival which he had previously abandoned all hope of. But on a more cerebral level his pride told him that he could not allow his people to become the slaves of such barbaric creatures. Surely such a fate is far worse than death a part of him screamed, but it would not just be his death another part answered, it would be the death of all humans. Could he really condemn all humanity to extinction to save his own ego? Would he be the king who doomed man kind? He couldn't decide, he had to stall for more time.

"What are your terms then?"

"Firstly," the queen began. "all humans will bow and pledge loyalty and allegiance to all Orc kind. They will surrender all belongings and property to us and come under our rule. We shall settle this land as our own and do what we will with both it and its inhabitants. You shall disband immediately all armed forces and shall not form any new ones from this day on. Know though, that we do not wish for the total destruction of your people. If they cooperate, they will be allowed to live."