From Fort Cibu to Port Rinesmas

The sun was shining brightly this particular morning in the mining town of Fort Cibu. Warstomp yawned as he came to life from his nightly slumber. He was a large, sturdy, brusque, charcoal-colored, ork. Warstomp was a corporal in the Peace Protection Corps of the Provisional Army of the Tarki Masni Territories. He worked at the mine keeping order, ensuring no unauthorized personnel got through, and identifying and exterminating potential threats to the safety of the workers and the quarry itself. Warstomp yelled out, "Pooka!"

Pooka was a ghoulish looking, pickled hued, imp. The small creature was the family servant who helped with all manner of cooking, cleaning, and washing.

"Yes, master," inquired little Pooka.

"Draw my bath!"

"Yes, master."

Warstomp stammered to the tub and sat in the hot, relaxing water. Pooka sponged off his patron. After the bathing, Warstomp put on his uniform and went downstairs. His wife, Crookedla, was sipping tea at the table while the twins, Wallalga and Wallacezoga, ate their oats. "Eat up, girls! We have to get you to school soon."

"Good morning, girls, Crookedla," Warstomp said.

"Morning, daddy," his daughters rang out in unison.

"How'd you sleep dear," inquired his wife.

"Pretty good."

"Are you going to eat breakfast?"

"Not this morning. I need to get to work."

"Master," Pooka interjected. "Here is your lunch pail. And, here is a slice of meat pie to eat on the way."

"Thanks," Warstomp said accepting the items and heading out the door.

Warstomp typically walked to work with Badmorgan, another ork.

"Greetings, corporal," Badmorgan said.

"Sergeant," replied Warstomp. "How's it going?"

"Pretty good. Did you have a nice weekend?"

"I did. How about you?"

"Not too bad. I got in a little trouble if you know what I mean," the muddy brown ork intimated.

"Oh! Good for you, sarge," Warstomp grinned.

"Yeah, tight little number."

"Tell me about her," Warstomp took the bait knowing his superior was a sexaholic and would fuck most anything.

Badmorgan was into interspecies sex. "It was cute, pink unicorn. Fucked that pretty pony up the ass."

"Damn, I heard they're wild."

"Everything you heard is true."

Indeed, Badmorgan had gone to the Rawtra Forest on the edge of town looking for a raunchy hook up. That is where he met the young, equine-like being. The adorable Rosparkle was prancing about wiggling his firm buttocks. Badmorgan was drawn to him for some reason. He pulled out his hefty, foot-long dick and flashed it at the galloping pony. Rosparkle smiled and shimmied over to the burly ork.

The sergeant started, "That pony ass bitch took this dick like a champ. Had that slut naying and screaming. Kept begging me to fuck harder and deeper. I nutted like four times before I left."

"Wow," Warstomp was impressed.

"I'm telling you, man. You need to get you some strange on occasion."

"I'm good for now."

"If you say so," replied Badmorgan as they neared the mine.

"See you later, boss," Warstomp said going off to his post.

They day went along without any hitches. Warstomp stopped by the office to see if Badmorgan was ready to leave. The sergeant was still working on his end of shift report and told Warstomp to go ahead without him.

"See you later, dude," Warstomp said.

"Oh, one minute," Badmorgan looked up. "We are being asked to escort the caravan to Port Rinesmas tomorrow. Can I count on you?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Great! We'll be staying overnight as well. Hope that is not a problem."

"No, sir! No problem at all."

"Very well! See you tomorrow."

Warstomp went home and dined with his family. He told his wife about his work trip the next day.

"I envy you," Crookedla admitted. "Port Rinesmas is so beautiful with such wonderful shops and bazaars."

"Yeah, it's nice! But it's work. So there won't be much, if any, fun at all."

"Master," said Pooka. "Perhaps you could make time for an ale while you're there."

"I'm sure I can do that," Warstomp chuckled.

"Excellent, master! My brother owns a pub there. It's called Hallievous Ale House."

"I will check it out."

"I'll write down the info and an introductory letter for you before you leave," Pooka volunteered.

"That is so thoughtful of you, Pooka," shared the woman of the house.

The next day the caravan set out. Warstomp and Badmorgan were the protection detail. Along for the journey was the mine's head of transportation - a centaur named Weaverical. There was also a pixie called Twinlenald who was the inventory specialist.

A few hours into the journey, the caravan stopped for lunch. The various beasts and creatures ate their morsels.

Badmorgan mouthed something to Twinklenald. The three-foot-three-inch fairy followed the huge ork into the thicket.

"Sgt. Badmorgan," giggled the pixie. "How can I help you?"

"You know how, Twinklenald."

"Were you watching my little pixie booty on the journey."

"You know I was."

Badmorgan grabbed Twinklenald and rubbed his calloused hands all over the smooth, tiny, pale body. "I'm gonna fuck you so good."

It was no secret that most male creatures liked fucking the diminutive pixie race. Ork-on-Pixie porn was the best selling in the land. The ork males generally stood seven feet tall or more and dwarfed the small beings. Pixies had an eternal, youthful look with large eyes, pointed ears, slender bodies, and butt holes that could gape to accommodate the largest ork and centaur cocks.

Tiwinklenald pulled down the sergeant's pants and began working orally on the large tool.

"Oh, that feels so good," Badmorgan admitted. "We don't have much time. Let me fuck that booty, boi!"

"Yes, sir," the pixie bent over.

Badmorgan straddled the itty bitty, elfin sprite.

"Fuck me," Twinklenald encouraged him.

"Yes, pixie! Take this big Ork dick!"

"Yes, sir! That ork dick is so good, You like my tight pixie boipussy?"

"It's the best, little faggot!"

"Fuck this sissy, faggot pixie booty!"

Twinlenald's anus was wide open as it accepted Badmorgan's gigantic penis.

"It's so tight! I'm gonna cum," wailed Badmorgan.

After a six minute quickie, the sarge erupted inside of Twinklenald. They cleaned up and rejoined the party.

All the way down to the coast, Badmorgan kept watching Twinklenald's round booty shake. He was ready for some more.

The caravan arrived in Port Rinesmas. Twinklenald went about talking to the ship's porter to account for all the pertulium inventory. Once things were settled, the group went to the inn where they were to spend the night.

Warstomp advised everyone that he was going to the pub for a drink. Weaverical, Badmorgan, and Twinklenald all said they would join. They agreed to meet back outside in fifteen minutes.

When they arrived outside, Warstomp compared the name on the building to that on the parchment Pooka had given him. The sign above the door read, 'Hallievous' Ale & Pleasure House'.

"A pleasure house," Badmorgan grinned. "I didn't know you had it in you, Warstomp."

"But I..."

"Well, I'm in need of some pleasure," the centaur said. "My wife isn't putting out any more."

"Don't sweat it," Twinklenald offered. "It's also an ale house."

"I guess," remarked Warstomp.

Inside, Warstomp handed the message to the hostess. She told them to wait a moment and she would be right back. When she returned, she was escorted by an imp that looked almost identical to Pooka.

"Warstomp," the ugly thing beamed. "I'm Hallievous. Welcome to my establishment. I've got a VIP table over here for you all."

"Good to meet you, Hallievous," Warstomp replied.

"Follow me," the imp said. "Rizoga, get them a round of ales."

The beer was delicious and cold. After a few rounds, Hallievous came back to check on them. "Would you gentlemen like to see our exotic treats?"

"Of course," Badmorgan spoke up.

"Me too," added Weaverical. "What do you have?"

Hallievous advised, "We have some of everything."

"Surprise us," Badmorgan slammed down his now empty mug.

The centaur was led to a room that had an indoor wading pool. It was inhabited by a darling, flat chested, female looking, merman. "I am Joshimmer! How are you," the creature asked.

"I'm good," replied Weaverical.

Down the hall, Warstomp was placed in a room with a cutie pie pixie. Badmorgan was paired with a winged fairie boi that had breast implants. Twinklenald ended up with an ogre.

Weaverical had never fucked a merboy before. He was turned greatly by the light yellow tone of Joshimmer's skin and his big almond-shaped, lavender eyes. The maritime creature had long curly brown hair and pouty lips. He mounted on the edge of the pool and Joshimmer began sucking his long, horsecock.

"Have you ever been with a centaur," checked Weaverical.

"A couple of times," admitted Joshimmer.

"Did you like it?"

"Of course, sir!"

Centaurs were highly sought after by all the submissive types because of their classical good looking torsos and strong equine legs and backs.

Joshimmer presented his glossy, lime green tail fin to Weaverical. He bent over exposing his fuck hole to the half-man-half-horse. The centaur went inside and began pounding.

"Oh, hell," groaned Weaverical. "This mer-pussy is tight"

"Fuck me," cried Joshimmer.

"Take this big ole centuar dick you little faggy mer-bitch!"

Badmorgan was already deep inside the little winged fairie boi. The fairie's titties were bouncing as the little being named Flutterwright bounced up and down on the fat ork member.

"Ride this dick, you fairie punk! Take my big ass ork dick!"

"Yes, daddy," cooed Flutterwright. "Do you like my fake titties."

"I love this shit. And your tiny li'l fairie cocklet. You're such a cute fairie-boi!"

"Yes, daddy! I love this big brown ork dick! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck meee!"

"Ah yeah, bitch! Take this dick!"

Twinklenald had wasted no time getting to work on his ogre, Stewarstink.

Stewarstink had the pixie flat on his stomach and was pummeling him. "Take my ogre cock, you li'l pixie faggit!"

"Yes, ogre daddy! Fuck this pixie boipussy," begged Twinklenald.

"Yeah! I'm gonna fuck your tight li'l asshole all night, slut!"

In the final room, Warstomp sat looking at the powder-white pixie.

"You seem nervous. Don't be. I'm Rossbell," the small creature smiled warmly.

"I...I...Uh...Never done this before," Warstomp stuttered.

"It's okay," replied the orange haired pixie. "I like first timers."

"Do you really?"

"Yes, sir! And I love orks!"

"Why is that?"

"You all have such big, strong, muscly bodies. And you know how to treat a pixie boi like me."

"Oh yeah! I've got an ork friend that loves fucking pixies."

"I thought all orks liked fucking pixies," teased Rossbell.

"Well, I don't know about that. I never have."

"You should try me out and see. May I see your big rod, sir?"

"Why not."

Rossbell moved closer and extracted the meat stick. It was still soft and more than eight inches already. Rossbell put his lips on it and it began to grow. Soon, it was fully erect standing close to fourteen inches. "Oh my goodness," mused the pixie. "You're huge!"

"I guess," blushed Warstomp.

"Do you like how I make it feel?"

"Uh...yeah!"

Rossbell sucked it some more, getting it very wet.

"Perhaps I could sit on it," suggested the three-foot tall being.

"Uh...okay," grunted Warstomp.

Rossbell lowered his round, juicy booty on the ork's fuck pole. "Oh my," whined the pixie. "It's so big!"

"Damn," remarked Warstomp. "Your butt hole is tight as fuck!"

"Yeah! You gotta open it up with that big ork dick you got, daddy! Grab my waist!"

The ork guided the pixie down his shaft. Rossbell moved rhythmically as he descended.

"Ah, shit," barked Warstomp. "It's so warm and tight!"

"You like that," inquired Rossbell.

"Hell yeah!"

"Then fuck me, ork! Fuck me good."

Warstomp lifted Rossbell up and down repeatedly picking up speed.

"Oh, damn," cried the pixie.

"You like this ork dick, don't ya!'

"I do. I really do!"

"I had no idea pixie boipussy would feel so good!"

"It's yours!"

"Hell yeah! It's mine, you tiny li'l faggit!"

Warstomp nutted hard after a few minutes.

The next day, the party returned to Fort Cibu.

Crookedla welcomed her husband back home. "How was the journey?"

"It went well," Warstomp shared.

"Glad to hear," she smiled.

"Did you have an ale at my brother's place, master," inquired Pooka.

"I most certainly did."

"How was it," the imp checked.

"Great ale," he winked. "So, Crookedla. I'd like to take you down to Port Rinesmas for a weekend soon."

"Yay," yelped his wife, not knowing the real reason for the return trip.