Chapter 1

Prince Oliver skipped through the castle garden. He loved the green and the flowers. He was nineteen and yet to be married. In truth his parents had coddled him as a boy.

He knew his numbers and letters. He knew how to run a castle and a kingdom. On paper anyway. But he would never be a warlord. Never be a brave leader of men on the battlefield.

His golden ringlets framed a soft feminine face. His slight build was covered by a puffy shirt. His round ass under an oversized codpiece. One that covered the whole crotch area.

He certainly didn’t need it. It’s just what was in fashion.

He smiled at the cook’s daughter. She was waiting under the small pavilion near the pond. Well out of eyesight of the guards. She was a few years his senior and wanted a baby. A royal bastard would set her up for life.

“Well met my prince, and right on time.” She laughs delightedly as he skips over to her. Raising her hand to a half open bodice. Drawing his appreciative eye to her ample bosom. Her face may have been plain, but her tits were magnificent. She’d had a few offers for her hand just on her breasts alone.

“Well met, my beauty.” Oliver smiles. He takes her hand and kisses first the back, then her palm. “Alas we haven’t much time.” He tells her. His smile dipping slightly into a frown.

Both his mother and father had woken with sickness this morning. He would need to get back to them before long.

Happily, the maid unbuttons the rest of her blouse. Tits nearly as big as her head spill out. The prince smiles like he has found a pot of gold and grabs them. Much to the girl’s delight.

She moans as he plays with her boobs. Reaching down to untie his codpiece. The prince squeezing and sucking on her bountiful orbs.

His ridiculous codpiece falls and the maid drops to her knees. She grabs his tight breeches and tugs them down. She lets out a little gasp.

Looking down at the girl, Oliver mistakes her look for one if pleasant surprise. When in fact it’s shock and disappointment.

‘There’s nothing. Nothing there except a button.’ The girl thinks. The prince wasn’t just not well endowed. He was laughably tiny. Not quite two inches erect, when soft the tip barely peeked out from his smooth flesh. Looking quite like a button indeed.

It didn’t help that his balls had never descended, or that he couldn’t grow hair anywhere on his body that was lower than his eyes.

“It’s ... it’s so cute, m’lord.” She says desperately. Leaning in and licking the little nub. Hoping against hope that the boy can even preform.

Oliver gasps and the girl gains confidence when the bump twitches. She sucks and licks the sad royal penis. It gets bigger in her mouth. Though when it stops growing it’s still tiny.

The maid fights her disappointment as she lays down on her back. Lifting her skirts and spreading her legs. She had taken off her bloomers in the pantry. She knew there wouldn’t be much time. The prince was so rarely allowed to be on his own.

Oliver grins. His eyes sliding up her white stockings, to her pale thighs, and onto her fuzzy muffin. Eagerly he lies between her legs. Trying to seem as if he has done this a hundred times.

In truth this was his first. He had heard the guards talk of their conquests and was quite sure he knew what’s what. At least that’s what he figured.

After missing for the third time the busty woman reaches down and guides the little penis inside her waiting pussy. Maybe an inch of cock.

“Oh! Your highness. You feel amazing.” She assures him. Grabbing his ass and pulling him. Desperately helping him thrust into her.

He lasts nearly no time at all. The maid is both disappointed and relieved. He grunts as he drizzles his little cummies on her twat.

“Oh that was amazing my prince.” She says. She uses two fingers to scoop up his warm jizz and shove it as deep in her cunt as she can.

“You were amazing yourself.” He tells her. Pulling up his breeches and retying his codpiece.

She grins at the little twat as he saunters off.

Finally a man.

Oliver’s parents went quick. Within days the King and Queen were dead. The young man was distraught. Still, he did his best to put on a brave face. For his people.

The funeral was a grand affair. People lined the streets. Eager to see the procession as it passed through the city.

Sitting in a carriage draped in black, the prince raised a perfumed kerchief to help dry his eyes.

“I’m sure your speech will be magnificent.” The older man leans forward from the opposite seat. Taller and muscular, Lord Davos was the kings brother. And Oliver’s closest relative. A tanned, muscular man, Davos was handsome and rugged. His big mustache wax always well trimmed and he only wore the finest clothes in public.

“When things settle down, I would like to offer my aid.” He gives Oliver a friendly smile. “Your father often called on me for my expertise in political matters.”

Oliver nodded thankfully. In truth he didn’t even want to think about ruling. ‘Let me just get through the funeral.’ He thought.

Days later Oliver was just finishing breakfast. He was not yet technically the king. His uncle had convinced him to wait a month. As a suitable mourning period.

Davos was being such a big help. Single handedly taking care of all the business of state.

As the prince left the breakfast hall he found Davos waiting for him.

“Just a few things for you to sign, my boy.” He smiled warmly at the prince. “Then why don’t you join me in the bath. We can start the day as men do, on the trail.”

Oliver wasn’t entirely sure what his uncle meant. He was always worried that people didn’t view him as masculine, though. And he definitely wanted to please Davos.

Soon they were in the marble bathing room. Four white pillars were set at the corners of a shallow pool.

Davos dismisses the servants leaving just him and the young prince. The handsome man disrobes and sits on the edge of the pool.

“We will do many great things for this kingdom, boy. We will make you a great king.” He says patting the stone next to him.

Oliver takes his own cloths off and sits close to his uncle. Eager to hear what the older man has to say.

“One of the first things...” Davos starts. “Oh my. That’s ... you are very small.” The older man was staring at Oliver’s crotch. In a way that made the young man nervous.

“You really aren’t much of a man, are you?” Davos says.

“I ... I do my best, uncle.” Oliver could feel the tears in his eyes at disappointing the older man.

Davos grabs Oliver by the young man’s hips and lifts him easily onto his lap. The young prince barely even protesting at the treatment.

“You being a wimp will definitely make my plans easier.” The older man gloats. He reaches between Oliver’s legs and pinches the tip of the prince’s dicklette cruelly.

Oliver squeals at the pain. Grabbing at the strong man’s hands, but unable to remove them.

“A little sissy like you shouldn’t be allowed to run a kingdom anyway.” Davos was pinching and tugging on the tip of Oliver’s little bump. The prince was moaning in pain and humiliation as his uncle treated him roughly.

Despite the unwanted abuse, Oliver’s penis got hard. Davos easily pulls the blonde’s hands behind his back and holds them there with one hand. The young prince squirms on his uncle’s lap. Davos starts to flick the tiny cock over and over.

“From now on you will do exactly as I say. Understand, pansy?”

“Unh! Yes! Yes, sir!” The young prince gasps.

He could feel his uncle’s dick getting hard against his bottom. It felt like a log. So much bigger than his own little twig.

“You’re basically a little girl, aren’t you?” The older man pushes the prince into the pool below him. Grabbing the boy by his golden curls and painfully forcing him to turn.

Oliver finds his uncle’s big dick practically touching his face. Easily eight inches of veiny, thick, man meat.

‘How? How can a penis be so large?’ He wonders.

“Touch it.” The older man orders. “I’m giving you the opportunity to play with a real dick. Not your bit of nothing.” When the prince doesn’t move, his uncle slaps him.

Submissively, Oliver reaches up and lightly runs his fingertips along the thick shaft. “That’s it, boy. This cock is your master. Someone like you could never be the lord over it, could you?”

“N ... no, sir.” Oliver whispers. Caressing the dick with both hands.

Davos reaches down and guides the boy’s hands around the big shaft. Showing him how to pump it. How to jack off a real man.

Oliver’s body tingles strangely as he pleasures his uncle. He knows he should protest. That he should take command. Or even call for the servants.

But he was too humiliated, too shamed.

Too weak.

The older man’s dick twitches in his hands. Then gob after gob of sticky goo shoots onto the young man’s face. The big dick growing soft in his hands.

Oliver looks up at his sneering uncle. Jizz dripping off his chin. “Kiss it to show proper obedience.” The older man orders.

Oliver leans in and kisses his uncles soft dick. Still much more massive than his own, even when fully erect. Something in the young prince shatters when his lips touch the man’s penis. His masculinity, broken in pieces.

After the bath incident, Oliver was very submissive around his uncle. The older man would trap him alone a few times a day and quickly reach into the young prince’s pants. Giving the boy’s little nub a sharp pinch.

Just to remind him where they stood.

Golds passed from Davos to some rough men. A plan had been set in motion. Soon the kingdom would have a new king.

Two weeks after their bath, Davos sent the young prince on a journey. Oliver was to meet princess Mariposa. She would likely be his bride.

Every king needed a queen. His uncle told him.

Oliver thought it odd that he didn’t recognize any of the six guards that accompanied him. They seemed rough. Not as well kept as the usual men.

Two days out, the party traveled into a dense woods. There was a small camp tended by a scarred fellow.

“What ... what are we doing here?” Oliver asked. No one would answer. The men began changing from guard uniforms to hooded cloaks. In fact they began to look like bandits.

Before Oliver could turn his horse the scarred man pulled him to the ground. Grinning, three men tore his fine clothes off.

“Now boy. People will be looking for a prince. Not some scullery maid. Play your cards right and you may live through this yet.” One of the men held up a plain brown skirt, and a white woman’s blouse.

“First, we need to make sure you understand just what your position is.” The scarred man sneers as he pulls off his leather belt.

One of the other men protests, “His Lordship said the boy isn’t to be harmed.”

The scarred man sneers, cowing the dissenter. “His Lordship will never see the boy again.”

Two of the rough men hold Oliver to the ground, and spread his smooth legs. Another forces a stick between his teeth as a gag.

Oliver squeals around the stick when the belt strikes his crotch. Tears fill his eyes as the leather cruelly bites at his tiny nubbin over and over. The harsh men laughing at the young prince’s misery and his humiliating lack of manhood.

Finally the whipping stops. The boys crotch a red mass of fire.

“You will be a good girl?” The scarred man asks. Oliver nods obediently.

He quickly dresses in the girl’s clothes. Feeling awkward in the long wool skirts.

The group strikes camp and is soon on its way. Oliver quickly found the cruel men wouldn’t answer any of his questions. They wanted him alive though, and he felt that was a good sign.

Thy traveled into the wilderness. Well away from the King’s roads, or cities.

Occasionally they would stop at small farming villages. There they would purchase food and supplies. The scarred man would always stick close to Oliver as a warning.

None of the villagers mistook him for a man. Not with his pretty face, long skirt, and golden ringlets.

The group slowly traveled toward some distant mountains. After two weeks they didn’t even see farms anymore.

“This is the worst.” One of the men was grumbling. They were drawing ever closer to the mountains. A few more days Oliver guessed.

“Yeah, no booze, no whores, no fun.” Another agrees.

“We all knew what we were signing on for.” The scarred man says. “Remember the golds.”

“Sure but there ain’t anything to spend them on out here.” The first continues.

“Course we do have a whore with us.” One of the rough men growls. The men all look at Oliver. “What do ya say, whore? Wanna give us a tug an whistle?”

Oliver shakes his head, golden locks bouncing. The men grin and grab him. They drag him to a fallen log bending him over it. And tying his hands behind his back.

“You’re going to suck this here cock. Understand, missy.” One of the men grabs his hair and forces his head up. Pulling out a big sweaty dick.

Oliver kicks his legs as he feels his skirts lifted up. His sweet round ass bare to the world.

“Sure looks like a woman from here.” A man says squeezing the young prince’s derrière.

“Definitely ain’t no man.” The men laugh at the poor boy.

Cruel hands spank his soft rear. The men laughing at his plight. Oliver sobs as they abuse him. The dick in his face rubbing against his cheek.

“Be a good girl now. Suck daddy’s cock.” The man before him says. Lifting his hand, threatening to slap the bound prince.

With the sound of flesh being slapped and his ass starting to turn sore, Oliver opens his mouth.

For the second time in his life his lips touch a man’s penis. The man shoves it deep in the boy’s mouth. Oliver gags and coughs until the dick pulls back a little.

It tastes sweaty and greasy and foul on his tongue. Oliver does his best to please the man anyway. A strange tingle running through his body.

“Ah, yeah. That’s good whore. Your a natural cocksucker.” The man groans appreciatively. Thrusting lightly in and out of Oliver’s sucking mouth.

Finally the spanking has stopped. Leaving the young prince’s ass red. Someone spreads his asscheeks apart. Oliver’s eyes open wide when he feels someone spit on his anal flower. Then something hard yet spongy pressing against his virgin anus.

“Here we go.” The scarred man grunts from behind as he shoves his cock into the boy.

Oliver squeals around the dick in his mouth. His toes curl and he kicks his legs. He clenches his eyes against a pain and shock he had never imagined.

The dick pushes deeper and deeper into his unready bowels. Further than he could have ever imagined. Finally he feels the man’s hairy balls come to rest against his sore ass.

“You’re tight, girly.” The scarred man says pulling back out to his tip, before roughly shoving back in.

Oliver groans and squeals through the next few thrusts. Wishing his torment would end. Willing to do whatever the men asked so it would.

Unfortunately this is what the evil men wanted.

The man before him slaps Oliver’s face a few times. Reminding him of his duties up there. Still grunting from the pain of his anal violation, the young prince continues sucking on the man’s dick. His body rocking with each thrust from behind.

The prince’s shattered masculinity burns away with each suck on the dick in his mouth, and with each thrust of cock in his ass. And yet, part of him feels that he deserves what’s happening. That his uncle was right. He was no man. A small part of him was enjoying the abuse.

The dick in his mouth twitches. Much like his uncle’s had between his fingers. Hot jizz fills his mouth and Oliver grimaces as he swallows a few times. Finally the softening dick pulls out and he can spit the rest of the cum on the ground.

Oliver’s body still lurches with each thrust of the scarred man’s dick up his ass. He looks up to see the other men. Their cocks out, ready to have a go at the young prince. He groans as the next dick presses against his lips. Obediently opening his mouth and accepting his place.

Soon the fuck rod buried in his rear explodes. Filling his ass with hot jizz. Only to be quickly replaced by another thick intruder.

It is four days before the group ascends into the foothills. In that time Oliver takes so many dicks he loses count. The cruel men seeming insatiable.

The air had gotten cooler as they traveled deeper into the mountains. Some days Oliver wished he had a coat.

This bright, yet cool, afternoon Oliver was on his knees. The scarred man’s dick was in his mouth and he dutifully sucked while his captor sat on a large rock.

The young prince’s skirt had been pulled up and cum was drizzling out of his sore ass.

The fucking his bottom received was still painful, but not as much as those first few days. Sometimes it was almost pleasurable. And he was almost proud. He could now take a dick far enough into his throat that he could tickle a man’s balls with the tip of his tongue when he did. Something the evil men found hilarious.

The penis twitches and Oliver swallows most of the jizz. Something he disliked and found humiliating. But the men ordered him to do it. It was like a little reminder of their violation that they left in his sissy tummy.

As the poor boy sits up there is a strange whistling sound. Then one of his captors falls over groaning.

Suddenly there is much shouting. The evil men draw their weapons.

‘I’m rescued!’ Oliver thinks. But the attackers are not Kingsmen. They are large rough looking men. Covered in animal hide.

A dozen mountain barbarians easily slay the bandits. It was no contest. The last to fall was the scarred man. Grunting with an axe in his chest.

“Ooh!” Oliver gasps when he is thrown across a shoulder and carried away like a sack of flour.

He can see the barbarians raiding the slain men as he is carried off.

When the big man gets Oliver back to his village he is disappointed to find the one thing missing that made the blonde enticing in the first place.

Oliver isn’t actually a woman. The man drops the boy’s skirt and gives him an angry look. He raises his big axe.

Oliver scrambles past the big barbarian and out of the hut. Looking back to see the man bellow and jog after him.

The young prince crashes into another barbarian. Who grabs his shoulder and lifts him before he can even stand.

“Ho ho, looks like this little girl got away from you Hrolthgar!” A woman’s voice, Oliver realizes. Deep and gruff, but a woman. Giving her a good look while he dangled in her grip he realizes she must be as stacked as the cooks daughter he gave his virginity to.

The barbarian woman stood well over six feet. Looked to be husky and muscular under her layers of hide. She had a handsome face and long raven black hair. Tattoos covered the left half of her face and neck. As well as the hand that held her giant hammer. A big iron monstrosity, built to knock a knight from his horse, then crush his skull like an egg.

“Is no woman!” Hrolthgar bellows, to the laughing delight of the villagers standing around.

The big woman lifts his skirt. “Looks like no man, either.” She chuckles. Oliver turns red with embarrassment as people point and laugh at his lack of manhood.

“I will take him. You owe me two sheep anyhow.” She insists. The big man nods thoughtfully.

“Agreed.” He says heading back to his hut.

“I am Jentif, little one. And what are you called?” The big woman takes him to her hut.

“Uh ... Oliver. My name is Oliver.” He says. A little relieved to be away from the other barbarians.

“Well met Oliver.” She clasps him heavily on his shoulder.

Over the next week the young prince serves as Jentif’s maid. Doing his best to cook and clean her simple home.

He learns that his new owner is a witch. A healer of men and animals. Along with a few simple spells.

Her tattoos mark her as such. Others in her village have tattoos as well, but they tend to be more evenly spread across their bodies.

The young man can’t help but stare at his mistress when she disrobes for bed. She prefers to sleep in the nude. She always smiles at his attentions. She was husky and muscular. With big breasts. Both nearly as big as Oliver’s head. And a big round ass.

‘Really,’ he thought, ‘quite pleasing.’ His little nub getting hard until she got under her covers.

The whole left side of her body was covered in those fascinating designs.

“You are not frightened of me.” She tells him one night from her bed.

“Well you could break me in half with just one hand. Otherwise, no.” He grins at her.

“My people see me as a necessary evil. A demon that they need to cure their ills.” She pulls her sheet back. “Strip and come.” She orders.

Nervous, Oliver pulls his blouse off and lets his skirt fall to the floor. Then he crawls into bed next to the big woman.

Jentif reaches down. Her fingers tickling at his little bump as she explores his crotch. Gently she pulls on his penis.

“You are so small.” She says, not unkindly.

“S ... Sorry.” He apologists with a shiver.

“It is not bad.” She assures him.

His dicklette gets hard in her fingers. “I know I am no real man.” He admits. “I may not be able to please you.”

“We will see.” She continues to squeeze his small cock. Leaning in to kiss. As their tongues dance together Oliver reaches to squeeze one of her mighty breasts. His other hand grabs her hip.

Her body was tough, yet soft. Like supple leather. And warm. And curvy.

Oliver gently pushes her on her back and pushes her legs apart with his knees. He sticks his little prick into her bald pussy. She had tattoos even there he had noticed. Like him no pubic hair though.

Jentif moans as the young man thrusts. Pushing as deep inside her as he can. In his lust he is done in under a minute. Much to the obvious disappointment of his mistress.

“I ... I’m sorry.” He says. Laying his head against her pillowy breasts.

“It is ok. We both knew.” She assures him while petting his golden hair.

Oliver felt close to tears. ‘I really am no man.’ He thinks. Then he has an idea. ‘If I could pleasure those nasty men with my mouth. Maybe I can do something similar to a woman?’ Oliver starts kissing the barbarian’s body as he moves closer and closer to her crotch. There he begins licking and kissing around her soft cunny.

He smiles when he hears Jentif gasp. Then she starts to moan. Running her fingers through his hair.

He can taste his own cum. As he sticks his tongue inside her. He had thought he would taste different, but it was quite similar to those men. ‘What does uncle tastes like?’ He can’t help wondering.

The barbarian woman’s body trembles as she orgasms. She pulls his hair painfully as she grinds her crotch into her face. Eagerly he laps up her sweet pussy juice. Happy that he could finally bring her pleasure.

Blissfully he snuggled next to her. Feeling safe for the first time in weeks.

A few days later he marries Jentif in a ceremony before the whole village. They tattoo a ring of symbols around his left wrist. Reminiscent of the ones that cover her body.

Weeks pass. Oliver settles into his new life as the witch’s husband. Wife? He doesn’t really know. Though he always wore a woman’s skirts now.

He longs for home, but the way of these people are so strange. He was a prize from a raid. And even though he was married he doubted they would let him travel past the edge of the village.

It would be like letting a favored lamb wander off.

During the day he cooks and cleans. Occasionally helping his wife with her craft. At night he ineffectively thrusts his worthless penis into her. Then pleasures her with his mouth.

Jentif was delighted that he liked her breasts so much. When they were alone during the day she would often go topless. Letting him stop and play with her big tits whenever he felt like it.

One morning they wake to hear women screaming and men shouting. They could smell smoke. A lot of it.

Quickly Jentif pulls on pants and a simple shirt. Forgoing her furs for time. She grabs her hammer and bursts out the door. Oliver close behind brandishing a dagger. Though he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

There were green, scaly lizard men everywhere. Raiding the village. Killing who they must, taking what they can, and burning everything else.

Jentif swings her mighty hammer at a scaly man running by. With a sickening crunch his chest collapses and he falls, dead before he hits the ground.

Oliver sees Hrolthgar, bloodied with a pile of bodies around him. He sees other men valiantly defending their homes. He points to a large lizard on four legs.

The size of an elephant. The beast of burden had two big cages strapped to its sides. Lizard men were stuffing the women they captured inside.

Jentif nods and the couple head that way. She quickly kills two raiders. Her hammer red with blood. Oliver stabs an injured lizard who had fallen. A few of the captive women are able to flee.

Then a whoosh and clunk. Some metal balls on a string thrown at the big woman’s head. She crashes to the ground unconscious. Oliver tries in vain to drag his wife away.

Half a dozen green men grab them. The young prince struggles as they are unceremoniously shoved into a cage.

With a bellow the big lizard begins tromping away. The raiders leading their prizes away from the village.

Oliver holds his unconscious wife’s head in his lap. Caressing her cheek, while he watches the fading village burn in the distance.

Jentif wakes late in the day. Oliver tells her what happened.

“Perhaps I can overpower the guards.” She says.

But the lizard men never open the cages. The women travel for a week packed together. Quickly moving out of the mountains. The big beast never stops. Day or night they travel. The green men napping in a large basket on the beast’s back.

Any requests from the prisoners fall on deaf ears. In fact the lizard men don’t seem to speak the common tongue. Other than water and little food the women are given nothing.

Finally out of the hills they come to a marshland. The giant beast having little trouble navigating the tricky terrain.

“Look! A city.” One of the captive women gasps.

Set in the middle of this swamp was a large city. Walled with white marble twenty feet high.

When they pass through the gates they find most of the buildings are stone. Set on small islands connected by ornate bridges. Oliver is amazed at the gold that seems to inlay nearly every surface.

The prisoners are brought to a slave auction. The cages are opened and the women pulled out.

Jentif tries to fight but a slender lizard with a crocodile head zaps her with a blue shock from his staff. She falls screaming to the ground.

The prisoners are stripped. The guards taking liberties with the barbarian women’s bodies. Squeezing big tits. Slapping cute rumps. Groping sensitive muffs.

Jentif and Oliver are no exception. The big woman begrudgingly submits. Not wanting to be zapped again. Still on the ground, green men yank off her pants. Tear off her shirt. They are delighted with her giant breasts.

Oliver can see the pain on her face as they cruelly squeeze and slap her tit flesh. She groans when scaly fingers dig between her thighs and shove their way up her soft cunny. Finger fucking her while another slaps her big round ass.

The croc-lizard happily oversees her abuse. The other women were already being led away. Collars around their necks. Taken to a stand to be sold.

Oliver stands passively as a lone lizard strips him. Watching forlornly as his wife is molested.

Her tits and ass turn red from repeated slaps. Her body quivers as lizard fingers thrust inside her pussy. Her eyes clench as one pulls her hair and slaps her face.

Oliver was sure they would fuck her. Maybe him too. That strange tingle running through him again. One he was recognizing as lust.

But they didn’t. They finally collared her and let her stand.

The lizard holding the young prince’s now naked body, calls the croc over. Poking the boy on his little sissy nub.

The croc seems to grin and nod. A collar is placed around Oliver’s neck.

The couple are the last to reach the platform. All the barbarian women having been sold quickly.

They stand together in front of the crowd.

There seems to be a round of bidding. Then there is a low rumble from the back of the crowd. At first Oliver thinks it was thunder. Then he sees the toad.

It had to be a thousand pounds. The size of s horse. He wore an ornate headdress. Made of gold and silver. And he sat on a large marble platform. Half throne half pool. Similar to the bath back in his own castle. The one where Uncle...

It was aroused. Oliver could tell. Everyone could. It’s dick was huge. About the size of Jentif ‘s arm. Sticking nearly straight up. Two beautiful elf women flanked it. Nearly nude they kissed and licked and caresses the toad’s giant manhood.