Sylvanas Windrunner wants what is best for The Horde, and regrettably right now, that means recruiting the most vile beasts to join its army: Gnolls.
Forced to negotiate with the tribal leader of the Gnollish packs, Sylvanas finds an unexpected ally in one of the pack's own, but as her new advisor helps her navigate the constantly changing leadership of the pack, she finds that who's in charge isn't the only thing changing...
CW: Futa, Furry, Mind Control
-o-o-o-
In the hot, dry, dusty outskirts of the impenetrable jungle of Feralas, a howling, cackling cacophony filled the air.
It was a lawless land, even more so than the rest of Kalimdor, not yet claimed by the horde, and not yet of interest to the ogres that made the rainforest their domain. In this in-between place, not quite desert, not quite jungle, where the trees were still thin and the land was still arid, there was nothing of value to warrant interest by anyone, or rather, anyone that mattered.
And yet the Warchief of the Horde herself walked across the hard-baked earth, towards an ugly palisade of felled trees draped with the banners and rags of many who had wandered where she now marched.
This land was Gnoll territory, and not for the first time Lady Sylvanas Windrunner scowled at the indignity of setting foot in such a place.
Gnolls were filthy, wretched, disgusting creatures. Amongst all the fetid, inferior, lower species that clung to Azeroth, Sylvanas couldn’t imagine a more pitiful existence than that of a Gnoll.
Not that she herself had pity for the mangy, snaggle-toothed mutts, or that they were looking for it. They were as brutish and violent as orcs, every bit as unreliable as Goblins, but unlike either such race whose numbers filled the horde’s ranks they had no honour and precious little brains.
They were strong though, and there were many of them, and so when the Horde had found itself in need of cannon fodder, the bloody eyes of its leadership had fallen onto the packs.
Ambassadors and envoys had been sent, some had returned, others had not, and for three months now Sylvanas had waited for news and received nothing.
Her patience had worn out.
Whilst some noble and pampered leaders of nations might have pouted and whined and tantrumed in their castles, the mistress of the horde was no such leader. She was a ranger, a warrior, as deadly as she was beautiful and as accustomed to getting her hands dirty as she was neatly picking her enemies off from afar.
She would claim the Gnolls’ allegiance one way or another herself.
It took far longer for the Gnolls to notice her approach than it had any right to, she was practically at the front gate by the time their howling and jabbering took up a frantic pitch and monstrous furry snouts appeared over the walls.
Sylvanas sneered under her hood and opened her mouth to speak, only for a crudely-carved boomerang to come whipping over the palisade. It missed her by a mile and cracked into the dirt some metres away, but she stopped all the same, listening to a distant curse of frustration from who she assumed had thrown the weapon.
“I AM SYLVANAS. BANSHEE QUEEN OF KALIMDOR. DARK LADY OF THE HORDE. MISTRESS OF MAGICS AND COMMANDER OF ARMIES, YOU WILL ADMIT ME FOR PARLAY, OR YOU WILL ADMIT ME WITH ALL THE MIGHT OF THE LEGIONS OF ORGRIMMAR AT YOUR GATES!” She boomed, voice unnaturally amplified like a thunderclap.
More yipping and chattering came from behind the palisade, nervous this time, and she allowed herself a small smile.
Gnolls were stupid beasts, but even they were smart enough not to antagonise the greatest power on the planet.
Wooden creaking and tumbling sounded, what she presumed was a gate being opened or a drawbridge lowered, instead, a section of the palisade simply collapsed. Roughly carved wooden logs bounced and clattered into the dirt and rolled a short distance as a way was made for the banshee queen. She really shouldn’t have expected anything less.
A huge number of hairy hunchbacked beasts milled around in the new entrance, watching her as she approached. She could feel their eyes on her, and suppressed the instinct to shudder with disgust.
“Where is the ambassador?” she demanded.
One Gnoll pushed to the front, taller than the rest, with a mottled grey coat and a helmet clearly designed for a humanoid head balanced precariously on his scalp.
“Ambassador not here no more! Scared of strong Gnolls! Ran away home crying like pup!” he barked.
Sylvanas growled quietly. If that was the case, the ambassador had either died on the road back, or realised that returning as a failure to her court was just as certain a death sentence.
She continued to stride forwards until she was eye-to-eye with the chieftain, holding his gaze with an imperious scowl until at last he blinked.
With an annoyed grunt, the chieftain looked around behind her for signs of a retinue, his heavy brow furrowing even deeper as he saw she had come alone. “You no here with big army? Shouldn’t make big threats to big boys without army to back you up.”
Sylvanas didn’t smile. “I need no army to deal with you, nor do I need servants and middlemen to forge an alliance that will benefit both of us. So, shall we negotiate like civilised beings, or shall I leave you to scrabble in the dirt for scraps to eat?”
The Chieftain growled and turned to look at the rest of the pack, all watching him curiously. Promises had already been made for food and plunder to be provided to all by the horde, but as he had yet to deliver any of his promises, Sylvanas had not been inclined to be generous. Clearly his people were impatient too, there was precious little to eat in such barren lands.
“Grr. We nee-go-she-ate.” The chieftain barked. “We make deal already, food for boys, war for riches! Why you lot still send ‘bassadors to talk so much?”
“Because you are yet to pledge yourself to the horde.” Sylvanas reminded him coldly, “And until you do, all of your talk means less than the dirt beneath my heel. Now, unless you wish to try my patience further, shall we proceed inside?”
The chieftain grumbled and waved a heavy arm, turning and shambling into the fortress. Sylvanas followed, keeping her gaze on the chieftain’s back even as she became surrounded by the malformed mutts she had unfortunately come to see.
She could feel their eyes wandering over her body, gawping openly at her plump blue breasts, her broad, womanly hips, her thick thighs and her colossal derriere. She was hardly unused to it. Her body was the envy of all, elvish perfection incarnate, and yet another arrow in her proverbial quiver. Those who did not fear her lusted for her, those who sought to trick or break her were distracted by her feminine frame and bountiful assets, often long enough for her to end them.
Naturally she enjoyed herself too, taking all the pleasures the horde offered. Her bodyguards and bed-servants were taken from all across Azeroth and beyond, of many races and shapes and sizes, but unified in their adoration of her body. She had orcs and goblins and trolls waiting on her hand and foot, individuals from alliance lands happily enslaved to feed and wash and pleasure her.
There were few races on the skin of Azeroth Sylvanas had not allowed into her bed, but being ogled by Gnolls did not bring her the same pleasure she usually felt being stared at in court.
“It is hardly good diplomacy to attack one’s guest when they come to your gate, chieftain.” She said airily as they pushed through the crowd of the pack and into a large circle of standing stones. Around the makeshift arena were several shoddily-crafted chairs, and at the centre was what had been an altar, and was now clearly just a table, still strewn with a half-eaten carcass. “It is not wise to insult the horde.”
The chieftain groaned and seemed about to dismiss her, when a second Gnoll appeared apparently out of nowhere. “She speaks true big chief, better punish bad boy, or no alliance and no food for the rest of us.”
The chieftain snarled, but the newcomer didn’t flinch, and after a second he turned back to the crowd.
“Who threw that killin’ stick!?”
A furry hand shot up in the midst of the crowd.
“Me big boss! Almost hit blue lady too!”
“Get im’!” the chieftain grunted, and Sylvanas watched as the arm vanished back into the crowd under a pile of snarling, clawing bodies. A shrill yip of agony and chattering laughs of delight went up as the sound of ripping flesh and bones being popped from their sockets filled the air.
Sylvanas sighed tiredly.
“NOW SOD OFF, ALL OF YOUS!” The newer Gnoll roared. “BIG BOSS GOTTA TALK TO LADY WINDRUNNAH!”
Sylvanas arched a brow, inspecting the beast curiously. Male and female Gnolls were practically indistinguishable, but by her softer voice and the wrap around her chest, she guessed this flea-bitten monster was what passed for a woman in the pack. Clearly she had more brains than most too, it seemed some things were the same no matter the species.
She sat cautiously on one of the chairs provided and watched with exhaustion as the chieftain swept the remains of his lunch off the altar and climbed up onto it as his throne.
It was going to be a long and painful negotiation.
-o-o-o-
Ultimately, it was only the latter.
“Take Lady to her tent!” the chieftain snapped to the female barely more than an hour later, “We talk more later!”
Sylvanas might have argued, but frankly just an hour’s conversation, if she could even call it that, had given her a headache. She stood mutely and gave just the barest hint of a nod, before stalking away.
The female Gnoll followed in her wake, dark eyes boring into the back of her head until at last Sylvanas sighed. “Do you have a name, beast?”
“Howlah!” the Gnoll grinned, “Nice of you to ask, Lady Windrunnah. Not often the Horde notices little old me.”
“You seem to somehow be the most intelligent member of your pack.” Sylvanas grunted, “How convincing starving people to accept food is being this difficult is beyond me.”
“Ah, Chief Moldfur don’t want to look weak. He wants food and gold and plunder, but he don’t want to do anything for it, see?” Howlah chuckled, a low sound that transformed into a shrill, deranged giggle. “He think that if everybody got food and do what you say, they might think you big boss instead of him.”
“I couldn’t possibly care less who your people consider to be your leader. So long as you play your part in the Horde’s campaign I will be satisfied.”
“Course, Lady Windrunnah, but boys don’t think with head.” Howlah smiled. “Boys like him, only think with dick! Only way you make him happy is making him husband. Then what’s yours is his to give anyway.”
Sylvanas couldn’t help but gag.
“Repulsive.”
“Chief not much of a lookah.” Howlah agreed with another giggle. “Not much of a thinkah either. You outsmart him easily enough, no need to get your pretty hands dirty.”
“Certainly not.” Sylvanas sighed, coming to a halt in front of what must have been her tent. It was miraculously luxurious, clearly a spoil of the pack’s pillaging, an old Elvish pavilion perhaps a little dusty and frayed at the edges, but perfectly acceptable accommodation. She stepped within and surveyed the meagre living quarters within. A large but uncomfortable looking fur cot, a battered chest for her equipment, and a shelf upon which sat two dog-eared books, and a curious golden statue.
“I hardly expected Gnolls to decorate my quarters.” She said, mostly to herself, picking up the idol and turning it in her fingers. “Though I’d hardly call this ‘decoration’.”
The statue was of a woman, more or less, crudely shaped out of gold in one smooth, vaguely phallic, piece. The woman was seated, thighs spread and knees bent so her feet met together at the front. Her body was little more than a single gargantuan sphere of a clearly pregnant belly, with her humungous breasts and torso resting on top. It didn’t have arms so much as a single extending mass from around the head, as if the figure was lifting her hands up to the sky but arm and head had been fused into one smooth piece. At a distance looked more like a bulbous golden dick than a work of art.
Sylvanas scoffed and tossed the fertility idol into the dirt, turning to find Howlah staring at her expectantly. “You may leave.”
The Gnoll smiled toothily and bowed. “Course’ Lady Windrunnah. Lookin’ forward to seeing you in action.”
-o-o-o-
If one hour of ‘negotiation’ with Moldfur had been painful, a further day of on-again off-again talks was torture Sylvanas would have happily added to her portfolio of interrogation techniques. By the dawn of her third day in the Gnoll village, she was beginning to wonder if these brutes were worth the effort.
Howlah joined her as she stalked from her tent to the Chieftain’s ring as always, grinning and padding beside her with a mischievous glint in her evil little eyes. All the Gnolls Sylvanas had ever met hadn’t had a braincell between them, but this one was clearly different. Sylvanas made a mental note to keep an eye on her, she could be useful, or dangerous.
“Chief Moldfur I hope you are ready to finally agree to our terms?” Sylvanas called as she entered the ring, sneering as the lumbering brute rummaged around for something on the other side of the alter.
The Gnoll straightened up, ugly, mangy, snaggle-toothed, but with a deep red fur and beady grey eyes that certainly did not belong to Moldfur. The helmet perched on his head, on the other hand, had.
“Ah, not chief Moldfur, this is Chief Leggnaw!” Howlah said helpfully. “New chief, Moldfur too unpopular, got gutted last night!”
“I chief now.” Leggnaw grunted, jumping over the altar and growling as he flexed his furry muscles. He was larger than Moldfur, younger too, but Sylvanas could only hope he was smarter, or this would put her back to square one.
“Well, chief Leggnaw.” She said as sweetly as she could force herself to. “Are you ready to swear allegiance to the Horde.”
Leggnaw chewed on a fingernail, looking disappointed she wasn’t more impressed, and sat down on the altar. “You give us food and gold and shinies?”
“Yes, as is our bargain.”
“But we gots to fight for you? Go die against humies and dwarfies and elfies?” Leggnaw frowned.
“We will stand against the enemies of the Horde together.” Sylvanas agreed patiently, “Your people may be called to fight, but you will also be protected by us should you own enemies take up arms.”
Howlah pulled a face, trying to shush her quietly before she could finish, but Sylvanas ignored her. No sooner had she spoken, Leggnaw leapt up to his feet and started flexing again.
“WE NO NEED PROTECTIN’” He roared, loud enough for the entire pack to hear. “WE BIG BOYS! WE STRONG BOYS! SHARP TEETH AN’ CLAWS’ AND SPEARS!”
A cheer went up around the village, and Sylvanas sighed.
-o-o-o-
“Gnolls… filthy… flea-bitten… beasts!” Sylvanas grumbled, kicking her boot across the pavilion as she stripped down. “As bad as this accursed dust! It gets everywhere!”
Howlah had graciously fetched her enough water for a bath, cold though it was, and it was only when Sylvanas lowered her bare blue frame down into the tub that she let out a sigh of relief.
Leggnaw was, if anything, even stupider than Moldfur, and so preoccupied with his own machismo that even the vaguest hint of there being a price for the Horde’s assistance sent him into a frenzy. As she sunk down until only her head remained above the water, she wondered if arranging a new chief might not be worth her time. Nobody seemed to have minded that Moldfur had been usurped, it must have been common. Perhaps she could find a Gnoll capable of doing what they were told and arrange their ascension to chief.
She snorted.
Aside from Howlah, that seemed deeply improbable, and she preferred to keep that particular mutt where she could see her. Maybe it was silly, but Sylvanas suspected she could actually be quite dangerous if she ever got any real power.
Another sigh fluttered past Sylvanas’ plump blue lips as her hands gently wandered her body. She missed her harem of consorts and bodyguards and sycophants. Were she back home she would have a goblin girl between her voluptuous thighs and an Elven boy to rub her shoulders. Were she back home she would be swimming laps in her own private baths, rather than squeezing into a tub barely wide enough to fit her meter-wide hips.
Alas, she would have to make do.
“Hmmmmm.” Sylvanas sighed as her palm slid down over her toned, trim belly to cup the pristine blue petals of her womanhood.
The tent still stank of Gnoll, and she could hear the chattering and giggling beyond its embroidered canvas walls, but gods damn it she was horny and stressed and she had more than earned it.
Sylvanas sighed happily and brought her legs up out of the tub, resting her delicate blue feet over the edge and spreading her voluminous thighs wide. Each leg was as wide as her entire trim waist at their thickest, and jiggled pleasantly as Sylvanas began to pump and curl her dainty fingers into her warm wet twat.
The motions caused a gentle sloshing of water in the tub, a pleasingly calming sound that matched the heavy sway of Sylvanas’ heaving breasts, each easily the side of her own head. She pinched a blue-grey nipple affectionately and let her head hang back, her long golden hair streaming down almost to the dusty ground below.
“Mmmmm!” the banshee queen smiled as she quietly stroked herself to satisfaction, the stress and anger and disgust at where she was and what she was doing draining away, her worries and impatient thoughts dissolving. After the best few minutes of the past few days, she cooed with bliss and let her hand gently slip free of her temporarily placated pussy.
After a long soak, Sylvanas rose, and it was only then that her foot bumped something that had been sharing the tub with her. She frowned and searched her bathwater, lifting out a familiarly ugly golden idol that had somehow escaped her notice as she bathed.
“Ugh.” She grunted, assuming Howlah had put it there, either as a prank or perhaps out of some vile notion that she might need a toy to satisfy herself. As if Sylvanas would ever sully her body with such a crude, and undoubtedly filthy, object. She didn’t want to know just how much the idol reflected the true shape and size of a Gnollish dick, or if it had ever been used before. The thought alone made her gag, and so she tossed it over her shoulder and rose to dry herself off, basking in the pleased afterglow of an innocent orgasm.
-o-o-o-
Two more days passed and little progress was made. Leggnaw was as dim as he had seemed and despite all of Sylvanas’ careful and elegant political manoeuvring, simply didn’t have the capacity to understand what was being offered even as she began to make transparently unsustainable promises. At this point, Sylvanas would have promised Orgrimmar itself to get the job done, and sent the stupid bastard into the meat grinder before he could ever imagine she’d been lying, but somehow Gnollish idiocy and egotism remained indomitable.
Leggnaw wanted all the food and gold and wealth of the horde dropped onto his lap, and only then would he even consider lifting a furry finger in return, and even then he wouldn’t actually hold his end of the bargain. He had actually said as much by accident more than once, which Sylvanas had politely refrained from pointing out.
As the agonising “negotiations” dragged on, Sylvanas’ only refuge became her pavilion, her bed, and her surprisingly comfortable tub.
The banshee queen hummed an eleven lullaby as she rinsed her hair, standing in the water and letting it drain over her buxom body. As always she’d masturbated the day’s annoyances away and so she was feeling rather good about herself in the moment. Even the fact that, as always, Howlah had ‘helpfully’ provided the idol for her use in the tub couldn’t dampen the pleased calm of a post-climax hair wash.
“LADY WINDRUNNAH, YOUR CHIEF HAS ARRIVED!”
Sylvanas shrieked in surprise at the sound of a Gnollish bark and shifting cloth, leaping from the bath, rolling on the dusty ground, and snatching up her bow in one fluid motion. She had loosed an arrow before she could even think to restrain herself, blinded by fury and indignance.
There was a heavy clank of metal impacting dusty ground, as the helmet that had been balanced on top of the Gnollish invader’s head tumbled off.
The furry stranger, definitely leaner and with a paler coat than Leggnaw, looked only mildly surprised by the arrow currently lodged in his brain, before falling backwards like a felled tree and crashing to the ground.
“Toldja.” Howlah giggled, appearing from around the entrance to the pavilion. “So much for chief Riptear.”
“Howlah!” Sylvanas snarled, dropping her bow and clutching the fur pelt that was her blanket to her naked body. “What is the meaning of this!?”
“Chief wanted to make an introduction, Lady Windrunnah.” Howlah smiled, crouching down and yanking the arrow out of the corpse at her feet. “I told im’ you wouldn’t appreciate bein’ interrupted. I know how you like your bathtimes.”
“Where is chief Leggnaw?” Sylvanas hissed.
“Dead too, big fight, surprised you didn’t hear em’ going at it.” Howlah picked through Riptear’s pockets and took what she found interesting, then straightened up and kicked his furry snout. “Don’t worry, I gonna drag him out. New chief for you to talk with by morning most likely.”
“Nobody can know I killed him, Howlah, do you understand?”
Howlah smiled as sweetly as a Gnoll could. “Course’ Lady Windrunnah. Don’t wanna muck up your plans. You just have a nice sleep and Howlah will take care of everything.”
Sylvanas wrinkled her nose and squeezed the furry blanket a little tighter against her heaving chest, not missing how Howlah licked her lips at the sight of her glistening jiggling body.
As soon as the flap to her tent closed she cursed and returned her bow to where it belonged. All of her post-climax afterglow had well and truly vanished, and worse yet she would have to start again from scratch in the morning with yet another malformed moron.
She turned and stalked to her bed, only for her toes to kick something hard and cool.
The idol lay at her feet, not too far from the bed, where it must have landed when once again she threw it out of her bathtub.
Crude as it was, it glimmered pleasantly in the evening light, and Sylvanas found herself picking it up as she sat tiredly on her cot.
Why would a Gnollish fertility idol represent a humanoid woman, she wondered. It was an odd choice, and come to think of it she had never in all her years seen any other examples of Gnollish art.
She turned it over in her hands and lay back on the furs of her bed. Of course, if the idol had been designed with a Gnollish figure, it couldn’t have fulfilled its purpose. Beyond the obvious snout that would have made it quite uncomfortable to use, a Gnoll’s hunchbacked frame and digitigrade legs wouldn’t give it a particularly pleasant shape either, and judging by Howlah, the lumbering hyena-women weren’t predisposed for large breasts, like were sculpted onto the woman’s chest, forming the bulbous, knot-like mass from which the figure’s head and raised arms extended.
Either more artistic licence had been taken with the idol than had been in all of Gnollish culture across the world, or the utility of the golden dildo had been far, far more important to the maker than how it looked.
That or they had simply stolen it.
Sylvanas sighed and let a palm squeeze over the massive blue boulder of her breast, wobbling her chest gently and tweaking a nipple.
Adrenaline was coursing through her, there was no way she could sleep after such an incident…
What she needed was another orgasm to sooth her back to sleep.
The Banshee queen’s red eyes shifted down to the golden dildo in her hand.
A begrudging sigh passed her lips.
The fertility idol began its journey to between her open thighs.
-o-o-o-
Chief Hookchew lasted about an hour longer than Chief Riptear, picking a fight with his own bodyguard during he and Sylvanas’ very first session.
The blood had utterly ruined Sylvanas’ cloak, and Howlah’s attempt to wash it had only shredded it, leaving the Banshee Queen without the one piece of clothing she’d most relied on to shield her body from the gawping monsters surrounding her.
Chief Bogclaw remained in power three days, relying entirely on Howlah to interpret Sylvanas’ ever-less patient demands into the broken guttural grunts of the Gnollish language. He was spared Sylvanas killing him herself out of frustration by the “gate” of the village collapsing inwards rather than out as he decided to go on a mid-morning stroll.
During this time Sylvanas’ beautifully tailored boot was chewed up by an adolescent warrior, who was promptly thrown over the palisade. Nevertheless, from then on she was left without shoes.
Chief One-foot survived as long as it took for him to claim the title, before Chief Splitrib lived up to his name and tore him in half. That display earned Splitrib a full week of leadership, but also utterly drenched Sylvanas’ outfit with viscera. She’d tried her best to clean it, not trusting Howlah after the cloak debacle, but in the end only her pants and a single bracer were salvageable. After that she was forced to ask Howlah how to wrap her gigantic blue udders with cloth taken from her pavilion, having no recourse but to look like some commoner as she continued her miserable work, all her finery and equipment ruined.
Every day Sylvanas emerged to Howlah’s smiling face and cheerful conversation, and every day no progress was made.
Sylvanas’ only moments of happiness were in her bathtub or her bed, as her hands and Howlah’s golden idol explored the depths of her body and thoroughly fucked her tension and frustration away. Despite her hesitation, the idol was remarkably well-shaped, touching all the little spots inside Sylvanas that craved attention after a long day’s diplomacy, and Howlah apparently noticed her good mood and annoyingly made the connection.
“It’s a niiiiiice piece, ain’t it?” she chuckled as she and Sylvanas made their daily walk to the chief’s circle. “Knew a lady of your fine tastes would appreciate it.”
“We are not discussing this.” Sylvanas replied dryly, but she couldn’t help a small smile as Howlah grinned and nudged her with an elbow.
Over the long infuriating days she had come to accept Howlah’s companionship. It helped that she was the only creature capable of holding a conversation in the entire village, and that every single day she went to fetch water for Sylvanas’ bath and so generously made sure the idol was close at hand, if not actively submerged in the tub waiting for her.
She was as close to a friend Sylvanas could imagine a Gnoll being, and she was already contemplating taking her back to Orgrimmar with her once the pack was finally brought to heel.
Assuming it ever was.
-o-o-o-
“Mongrel!” Sylvanas growled, stalking around her pavilion in a fury as Howlah politely sat and let her rage.
“Told you Splitrib fancied you.” she said as Sylvanas kicked at the ground with her bare feet, her gigantic backside wobbling with each impact. “Boys all do.”
“I am aware!” Sylvanas spat, turning to face Howlah, too angry to even notice how the Gnoll’s eyes watched her titanic tits sway hypnotically on her chest. “All of these disgusting, mangy, flea-bitten… bastards! They all want to claw their way into my bed and between my legs as if I would ever, EVER, lower myself to lay with their kind.”
Howlah cooed calmingly, “You well too refined for that, Silly.”
Sylvanas scowled and came to a halt in front of her bath, dipping her hand into the cool water. “I told you not to call me that.”
“Sorry Lady Windrunnah.” Howlah shrugged, “But, maybe it’s time to use your pretty face to get whatcha want?”
Sylvanas paused, sighing quietly as the water calmed her down. “What are you suggesting?”
“You noble elf types got dowries, don’tcha?” Howlah smiled, “Handsome suitors gotta pay for your pretty hand in marriage? What if you says to Chief that you’ll be his bride, but he’s gotta go and get a dowry for you? If he wants you in his bed, he’s gotta kill your enemies, and bring back all their gold to impress you.”
Sylvanas wrinkled her nose, trailing her fingers through the bathwater thoughtfully. “Gods forbid he actually succeeded.”
“We make sure he don’t, and there’s plenty of boys to be chief.” Howlah grinned. “One fails, you promise the next one he can have your big blue butt in his lap if he succeeds where the old one didn’t!”
“Do not talk about my rear that way.” Sylvanas warned, running a hand over her gigantic ass self-consciously. It was truly huge, but in a perfectly perky way. Howlah made her sound fat and flabby. “But… it isn’t a terrible plan. So long as we can actually convince Splitrib.”
“I don’t doubt your persuasive skills, Silly!” Howlah purred, wiggling her furry brows, and Sylvanas let out a quiet resigned sigh.
-o-o-o-
“NOT WORTH IT!?!” Sylvanas howled not but a few hours later. “Of all the indignities! To be rejected by a filthy, matted, stinking mutt!”
Howlah shook her head sympathetically, once again watching the Banshee Queen tear her pavilion apart in a rage. Sylvanas had used to be so good at controlling her temper, Howlah preferred her like this, she jiggled more when she was angry.
“I don’t believe it either, Silly.”
“I will kill him.” Sylvanas snarled, “Who’s next in line to be chief!?”
“Not how it works. Boys step up when they wanna.” Howlah reminded her, “Can’t rely on getting a good one.”
Sylvanas threw her bow across the pavilion and kicked over a chair. She was about to tip her bathtub over and soak the entire tent, when Howlah gently grasped her wrists and cooed in a soothing tone.
“I’ve gotta plan, Silly. We just gotta make you unrejectable!” she smiled, guiding Sylvanas away from the tub and towards a cracked mirror she had salvaged a few days prior.
“Excuse me!?”
“To a chief, Silly. You sexy enough for anyone in the world, but Gnoll chiefs got less refined taste.”
Sylvanas paused, her ego temporarily stroked. “You’re saying I’m… too good for him.”
“Course you are.” Howlah agreed. “Fancy lady, all noble and proper, you’re intimidating is what you are!”
Sylvanas sniffed approvingly and allowed Howlah to position her in front of the mirror. Despite the dust clinging to her skin and the ruined remnants of her clothes, she still looked regal and delicious, her broad hips straining against the fabric of her new fur skirt, since her pants had embarrassingly split just the morning before. Her tits looked wonderful squeezed by the thin strips of cloth wound around her chest, covering her nipples and giving her a truly irresistible cleavage both above and below where she was bound.
She supposed there was little point trying to preserve her appearance’s elegance when her attire had already been destroyed. If a few cosmetic changes were what it took to bring Splitrib under her thumb, it was a worthy sacrifice.
“Where should we begin?”
Howlah grinned and patted her shoulders. “You relax, Silly. Take a nice long bath, treat yourself with your idol. Howlah’s gonna grab some essentials and take care of you good…”
She vanished out of the tent and Sylvanas swiftly stripped down and submerged herself in the bath. She reached through the water and chuckled as her fingers found the idol exactly where she’d hoped it would be.
“Reject me? Pah.” She muttered to herself, admiring the golden figure in her hands. “I am the most beautiful creature he will ever set eyes on. Even better than you, fatty.”
The blank golden face of the idol stared back at her silently, but for a moment Sylvanas saw her own face reflected in the golden mirror-like surface. She could imagine herself looking like the idol, not a million miles away from how she looked anyway. Her huge bosom and gigantic backside matched the figure already, it was just that belly, that huge, round, smooth, pregnant stomach…
Sylvanas gave the idol a fond kiss to its pregnant gut and brought it down to meet her own babymaker, smiling as it slid inside and began to pump.
-o-o-o-
“There you are, Silly. Lookin’ like a perfect Gnoll wife.” Howlah purred bringing her palms away from Sylvanas’ skin and admiring her handiwork.
The Banshee Queen did indeed look a lot more Gnollish, her gradual transformation from refined Warchief to barbarian bitch nearing completion, and Howlah couldn’t have been happier.
It had been her plan all along, of course. Corrupt a Horde official of sufficient influence, enslave them to her will, and use them to seize as much power and wealth as she possibly could. She couldn’t have imagined Sylvanas Windrunner herself would come along to be her unsuspecting victim, and she couldn’t have possibly be happier.
The fertility idol was old magic, something she’d scavenged and improved, and the perfect tool to break such a noble and stuck-up woman into the whore she had been born to be. Those tits and that ass were wasted on a leader, they’d suit her much better once she was a breeder!
Over weeks it had sat in Sylvanas’ pavilion silently influencing her thoughts and hormones, supressing intelligence, increasing libido. Once she’d begun properly using it as it had always been intended to be used, it had turned her body against her and her mind to mush. It was why she no longer cared she wore rags and furs that barely covered her obscenely fertile frame. It was why she had lost her well-practiced calm and restraint and negotiating skill, why she’d been arguing in circles with Gnolls of all creatures for near enough a month. It was why she’d spent nearly every spare moment for weeks playing with her pussy like a wanton slut, pounding her sanity away for hours as the idol marinated in her whorish cunt.
Just a little push, and she’d be ready.
Sylvanas pursed her lips and admired her naked body in the mirror, freshly remodelled for Howlah’s pleasure. Her hair had been pulled back and braided into two long platinum-blonde pigtails, tangled with tiny bones and sharp fangs and shiny stones Howlah had found, perfect to be used as reigns. Her voluptuous frame had been smeared with staining red paints, accentuating the gigantic swells of her breasts, framing her mile-wide ass, directing attention directly to her fertile cunt, and of course circling her belly, ready to be swollen with pups.
“I look ridiculous.” Sylvanas sniffed, unconsciously giving her titanic titties a wobble and chewing on her lip.
“You look delicious!” Howlah grinned, “Perfect for a Gnoll mate.”
Sylvanas hummed thoughtfully and rolled her palms over her breasts thoughtfully. “I suppose I can’t look bad, not with this body.” She said after a while, turning and admiring her ass. “Though it’s hardly my style. I hope nobody from the horde sees me like this.”
“Why not? Show off!” Howlah giggled. “Make em’ jealous!”
Sylvanas smiled, but blew out a long, tired breath and wandered away from the mirror, not bothering to cover up as she went. “If only I didn’t have to look this way for a Gnoll.” She grunted with disgust, “Especially Splitrib, that ugly bastard.”
“Gnolls not so bad.” Howlah reminded her, gently stroking her waist under the pretence of checking her new tattoos. “But Splitrib don’t deserve you.”
Sylvanas chuckled and nodded. “Thank you, Howlah, for all your help.”
The Gnoll giggled and dangled the idol in front of Sylvanas’ face, baring her fangs in a victorious grin as the Banshee Queen’s pupils dilated and her mouth opened in an excited gasp. “Don’t mention it, Silly. You just have a nice night, I’ll get everything ready for the mornin’.”
“Mmmm. Alright Howlah… I’ll see you then.” Sylvanas cooed, snatching the fertility idol out of her paws and practically skipping to her bed. “Good night!”
“Night, Silly… have fun now.”
Howlah chuckled cruelly as she slipped out of the pavilion, lingering long enough to watch Sylvanas drape herself over her bed and immediately sink the idol deep into her cunt, before vanishing into the night.
Sylvanas was ready, but there was still work to do.
-o-o-o-
“Ahwwww fuuuuck!” Sylvanas Windrunner moaned shamelessly, the sloppy sound of her furiously fucking herself filling her tent. “Sooo gooooood!”
Inch by inch the golden dildo vanished into her hairless blue twat, sliding in and out as smoothly as butter thanks to her gushing wetness. With each long thrust Sylvanas’ lust only grew, her cries growing louder, her motions getting faster until she was lost in a desperate frenzy.
Her sanity had been badly degraded already, but as the thick round base of the idol pushed up against her petals it began to fully disintegrate. She wanted to be fucked, she wanted to be pounded and ravished and plundered, she wanted cock, she wanted cum… she wanted the knot!
“Ohhhh gods yesss!” the Banshee Queen sobbed, grinning ear to ear as she frantically forced the idol into herself. Tears sparkled in her eyes as even her highly experienced womanhood was stretched beyond what it was used to, gradually swallowing more and more of the fist-sized golden knot with every thrust.
“Fuck… fuck… fuck! K… knot… meeeeeeeeee!”
Sylvanas’ squeal of bliss drowned out a wet slurping pop as her fingers lost their grip on the idol’s base and the entirety of the golden cock vanished into her sopping blue cunt.
“Oh gods… it’s inside me. All the way inside. How can it fit? It feels so big it’s driving me mad!” Sylvanas sobbed, bucking her hips in the air as her bloody red eyes began to glimmer gold.
“I’m cumming! I’m cumming! It’s inside me and I’m cumming and it feels so good!”
“It’s so big… so thick… this yummy golden dick is stuffing my pussy!”
“I want more, want more dick, want more sex!”
“Me so horny, me can barely think! Just wanna fuck and fuck and fuck!”
“Cumming! Me… cumming so good! Silly cumming on her toy so gooooooooooood!”
The orgasmic howls and screams of Sylvanas Windrunner filled the night, joining the chorus of barking snarls and deranged laughter of her brand new family.
-o-o-o-
The deed was done, even easier than Howlah had expected.
Splitrib always had been a heavy sleeper, and nobody paid Howlah much attention. Sneaking into his tent and slitting his throat had been child’s play. Now all that was left was to claim the chiefdom for herself. She cleaned the blood from her knife, sauntering through the early morning camp without a care in the world, eventually coming to a pavilion stinking of pussy and filled with whorish moans.
Just as she’d planned, Sylvanas was waiting for her.
The Warchief of the Horde sat on the floor of her tent, drooling and panting like the bitch she now was, with one hand totally submerged in her desperately wet cunt. “Fuuuhk… wanna dick sho bad!”
“Well then you’s in luck.” Howlah cackled, sauntering into her bitch’s view and admiring the feral mess she had become.
“Howlie! You come back!” Sylvanas grinned happily. “Me so horny! Where’d Silly’s toy go?”
Howlah smiled. “Dissolved inside you, filling you up with fertility magic, washing away all those silly thoughts and making you ready for breedin’.”
“Breed!” Sylvanas perked up immediately, groping a huge tit with her free hand. “You gotta boy to breed Silly!?”
Howlah smiled.
“Oh Silly, I’m gonna take care of that myself.”
With a simple slash of her claws, Howlah cut through the leather belt holding her loincloth in place, and cackled with glee as her gigantic red cock sprung out into the open air. Near enough a foot of pointed canine cockmeat bobbed and bounced in front of Sylvanas’ mindless eyes, and in an instant the mistress of the horde was drooling, utterly obsessed.
“Oh gawds.” Sylvanas moaned, tugging her hand free of her cunt and crawling onto her hands and knees, gigantic udders squeezed between her forearms. “Howlie… your dick’s so big!”
The futa gnoll laughed again, padding close and taking Sylvanas’ reigns in a furry fist. A delighted coo drifted out of the mindbroken bitch’s lips as, with a sharp smack, Howlah slapped her across each cheek with her cock, then let it drape hotly over her brow.
“Remember, only way to get what you want is to mate with the chief.” Howlah smiled, seeing Sylvanas pant and snort like an animal up and down her thick, stinking shaft. “What you say, Silly, ready to make a deal?”
“Fuuuuuuck… Silly do anything you want mama Howlie… jus’ lemme… lemme taste this coooock.” Sylvanas drooled.
“Good bitch.”
GLORK
In one swift thrust, Howlah rammed her pointed cock into Sylvanas’ waiting mouth, sinking three or four inches of thick red dick into the Banshee Queen’s hungry maw. In an instant, Sylvanas was sloppily sucking and slurping like a woman possessed, her glazed eyes staring lovingly up at her mate and master.
Howlah’s giggle became a roaring cackle of victory, a hyena cry of laughter that rolled through the entire village as the pack’s new chief began to claim her bitch.
Sylvanas groaned and bubbled happily as the taste of Gnollish dick overwhelmed her tongue, her red eyes crossing and fluttering as her throat was stretched out. Howlah’s grip on her reigns kept her in place right where she belonged, not that she’d ever want to abandon the delicious salty red cock she was already obsessed with. She’d fucked so many people, so many species, but nothing was as primally intoxicating as this fat gnoll cock.
Her elegant neck bulged as Sylvanas bobbed her head with more and more gusto, sliding her face down more and more of her mate’s cock until her plump purple lips were kissing the fist-sized mass of Howlah’s knot.
The Gnoll chuckled, grinning toothily down at the Banshee bitch slobbering on her, watching as Sylvanas’ lashes fluttered and her expression became one of total bliss.
She didn’t much care whether or not Sylvanas actually loved her dick so long as she spent the rest of her life wrapped around it, but the total whorish adoration her new mate was giving her was a lovely ego boost.
With a debased slurping sound, Sylvanas drank in every inch of her mate’s cock and let her throat squeeze out it’s fat red mass over and over again, rocking on her knees and wiggling her colossal backside into the dirt. Her palms rested on the gigantic wobbling shelf of her own tits, squeezing the thick, aching thumbs of her engorged nipples.
Before long, Sylvanas’ heaving bosom was glistening and shining in the warm morning sunlight, her precum-laced drool pouring out of her gulping mouth and stroked into every inch by her dainty fingers.
Howlah growled and gripped Sylvanas’ skull tight, thrusting her hips forwards harder and faster until the wet gurgling and gagging of her banshee bitch could certainly be heard beyond the tent. With a snarl, she clenched her claws into Sylvanas’ hair, pulled back and rammed forwards.
“Gwuchk!”
Spit splattered out of Sylvanas’s mouth and she went limp as her lips were stretched and her face was knotted.
She felt so full, every motion squeezed down on Howlah’s knot as it throbbed inside her, every breath through her nose drank in her animal musk.
Between her thighs, the steady flow of quim easing from Sylvanas’ twat turned into a torrent, as she squirted an arc of her total submission over the dusty ground.
Her beloved had only fucked her face, and already she’d made her cum faster than any other Sylvanas had slept with. How good was it going to feel when that fat red cock was stretching her womb!
Sylvanas had enough intelligence to know it wouldn’t be long until she found out, but Howlah wanted to play with her prey a little first, and she could have said no even if she wanted.
A good wife pleased her lover.
A good bitch worshipped her mate.
“Ghhhahhh.” Sylvanas moaned, tongue lolling as Howlah yanked herself free of her face with a snarl of effort. The resounding pop of her knot escaping Sylvanas’ lips was like a champagne bottle being opened, and the ruined Warchief couldn’t help but giggle.
Her laugher was joined by Howlah’s, a snarling cackling cacophony filling the tent, before Howlah pounced and knocked her bitch flat.
“Oohhhhhhh, Howlllieeee.” Sylvanas mewed as the gnoll clamped her jaws down on her swollen tit and began to slather it with her tongue. Her strong, vicious paw squeezed down into the other, kneading her supple blue flesh like dough, pinching her throbbing nipple between razor-sharp claws and sending shocks of bliss down Sylvanas’ spine. “Feels so fuckinn goooood!”
Howlah only snarled again, and turned her breast into a chew toy.
Squeals and gasps and shrieks of pain and pleasure burst out of Sylvanas as she drooled and thrust her burning cunt against Howlah’s thigh, humping her like the bitch she was.
“Getting me so fucking HARD!” Howlah barked, eventually grabbing Sylvanas by the waist and tossing her like a ragdoll onto her cot. The flimsy wooden bed collapsed under Sylvanas’ weight and the sheer force of the impact, but Howlah didn’t waste a second slamming both her paws into her bitch’s gigantic bubblebutt, and exploring the ass she’d spent a month daydreaming about. “This ass was made for fuckin!”
Sylvanas tittered with glee, biting her lip and kicking her feet playfully until Howlah pinned them beneath her knees and began to play in earnest. Her furred fingers sank into Sylvana’s ass until they were almost swallowed. She shook and wobbled and clapped and bounced each gigantic supple cheek in every way she’d always wanted. Up and down, side to side, clap, clap, clapping together like the world’s best drumbeat. When Howlah was sat on her throne, she’d have Sylvanas twerk to summon her pack, the sound of her ass clapping could be heard for miles!
“Mmmmrr.” Howlah groaned, dragging her tongue over Sylvanas’ rump from where glute met thigh to the very top of her hip. In moments, the banshee’s butt was as glisteningly shiny as her spit-shined tits, so much that Howlah could almost see her own snarling face in it as it quivered below her.
“Grah!”
“EEK!” Sylvanas squeaked as Howlah bit down on her ass sharply, fangs digging into her jiggling dumptruck just carefully enough not to break the skin. Her shriek of surprise was followed by another, as Howlah reeled back and delivered a punishing spank to the cheek not currently being chewed.
“Beat… your… butt… raw!” Howlah slathered, her own spit dribbling from her snout as she paddled Sylvanas with her palms. Each strike made her ass shake so amazingly it just kept moving, wobbling with a mind of its own as the energy of the spank sent it bouncing too and fro. “Then I’m gonna BREED it!”
Sylvanas’ moan of longing arousal was only amplified as Howlah gripped her cheeks and buried her snout between them. One long wet lick caressed her desperate cunt, her winking asshole, and her entire crack up to her tailbone, and then Howlah’s tongue jammed ruthlessly into her helpless virgin asshole.
Sylvanas had never allowed any lover to touch such a sensitive spot, but every last atom of her body belonged to Howlah. She howled with pleasure, tongue lolling in a feral pant, as her mate’s tongue coiled into her ass and made itself at home. It felt like Howlah was about to lick the back of her throat she was so deep inside her, that thick, flat, canine tongue exploring every last inch of Sylvanas’ hole until it was sloppy and dripping with Gnollish spit.
“Howlieeeeee!” Sylvanas screamed, fingers digging into the dirt beneath her, her hips rolling back against her mate’s face, desperate for more. “My asssssss! Fuck meeeeeeee!”
Howlah’s snarl was muffled as her hyaenid face was all but swallowed by Sylvanas’ ass, her new bitch smothering her within an inch of her life as she squealed and slobbered and begged. Fortunately for her, her ears were some of the only part of her head escaping from the soft, warm, crushing embrace of banshee butt, and so she heard every syllable of Sylvana’s slobbering plea.
She yanked her snout out of Sylvanas’ reach, dug her claws into the dirt, and gave the bitch exactly what she wanted.
Sylvanas trembled as Howlah’s cock smacked down against her ass, the knot throbbing against her thick thighs like a beating heart, the tip drooling precum onto her tailbone. Her mate gripped her cheeks once again, squeezing her ass around her cock until it was swallowed completely, and began to fuck her.
Every thrust sent Sylvanas’ ass rippling and her tits squishing into the ground beneath her, the meaty claps of Gnollish hips beating a banshee ass heavy and thick. Sylvanas slobbered and pleaded to be speared on the cock currently smearing it’s pearlescent excitement over her ass, but Howlah fought with typical Gnollish ferocity to resist as long as she could.
Once she was inside she wouldn’t stop until Sylvanas was bred, she wanted so badly to enjoy the bitch’s body before she got down to business, but nobody could resist the ass of Sylvanas Windrunner for long.
After only a minute or two, once Sylvanas’ spit-gleamed cheeks had been further glazed by gnollish precum, Howlah gave in.
Sylvanas had just enough time to realise Howlah’s cock wasn’t pressing up against her anymore, before it rammed forwards like it had been shot from a cannon, and buried itself in her winking pucker.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!”
In an instant, Sylvanas’ neck was squeezed by two strong paws and her blushing ass was being beaten raw by furry thighs. There was no time to get used to Howlah’s massive girth, let alone the grapefruit-sized knot now locked into her poor rosebud, not as the gnoll clenched her claws into the dirt and pounded ferociously into her.
“Ouhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Sylvanas could barely think at the best of times thanks to the magic of her mate, now she was a drooling husk of a woman, tongue lolling and eyes rolled back as she was lifted up and buttfucked into oblivion.
WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP WOP
Howlah’s daydream about having Sylvanas’ twerking ass be a call to arms for her new pack came true, as the echoing smacks of the banshee queen’s gigantic backside being clapped by her cock rang out throughout the camp.
A curious snout poked through the entry flap, followed by another, then another, and as Howlah’s ears pricked up at the presence of her packmates, her grin widened.
“Tear this fuckin tent down lads, getta load of your new boss!” she roared, raking her claws against the wall of the tent and slashing it to ribbons.
The pack obeyed, and the tent was torn asunder, leaving nothing behind to hide Sylvanas Windrunner being brutally assfucked and sobbing with delight.
“SPLITRIB’S FUCKIN DEAD!” Howlah shouted, fangs bared. “THIS BITCH IS FUCKING MINE! WE’RE GONNA GET EVERYTHING WE FUCKING DESERVE, AND IT’S ALL COS OF FUCKING ME!”
“CHIEF HOWLAH!” A voice cried out, and the chant was taken up by the rest of the pack.
“FUCK THAT!” Howlah grinned, pulling Sylvanas upright so that she was on top of her, being bounced on her cock with all the power of gravity. “MY BITCH RULES THE HORDE, SO I’M GONNA RULE THE HORDE! QUEEN HOWLAH!”
“QUEEN HOWLAH! QUEEN HOWLAH! QUEEN HOWLAH!”
“Kuh… kweeeen…. Howlieeeeeee!” Sylvanas babbled happily, her entire body rocking and jiggling like jelly as she was lifted and dropped onto her mate’s cock again and again and again.
Howlah’s laughter roared through the morning air, primal, brutal, and victorious.
She grasped Sylvanas by the hips and piledrived her back into the dirt, standing over her body as she sat ass-up, still knotted onto her cock. If her thrusts could get any more vicious and brutal, they did, until Sylvanas’ ass was blushing purple and her body had been showered with squirts of her own nectar.
Sylvanas slobbered into the dirt, cheek pressed flat as she dangled from her mate’s dick upside down and came her ruined brains away again and again and again.
Time lost meaning in a sea of pain and pleasure as she fulfilled her destiny as Howlah’s bitch, her gigantic ass shaking, her tits wobbling, and her pussy always slathering for the cock still buried in her guts.
It was only when, at last, her ravenous cunt was given what it craved, that Sylvanas Windrunner regained any sense of awareness.
“Fuuuuuuuuuck.” She groaned breathlessly, staring up adoringly at the hulking furry form of her mate and master.
Howlah had her on her back now, thighs spread around her waist as she forced her cock deep into Sylvanas’ blushing petals. They stretched slowly bit by bit over her knot, making the Warchief see stars, until with a heavy ‘pwap’ she sunk to the base of Howlah’s dick and was knotted in place.
“Breeeeed… meeeeee.”
Howlah laughed.
As the pack watched and laughed as well, Sylvanas Windrunner clamped her legs behind Howlah’s hairy back and moaned like a whore as she was fucked. Her heavy tits swung back and forth on her chest, her enormous ass wobbled beneath her, her beautiful face, stained with gnollish spit and her own quim, twisted into an expression of total bliss.
“More.”
“Moooore.”
“Maaaaaaaaaaawww!”
Howlah lifted Sylvanas up with her mighty arms and lay back herself, letting the banshee bitch clap herself down onto her cock with desperate need.
The entire pack grinned and snarled and laughed as Sylvanas bounced herself faster and harder and faster and harder until with a final ear-bursting squeal, she sat herself down on Howlah’s knot for good.
“I!”
“WANT!”
“HOWLIE’S!”
“PUPPPPIEEEEEEEESSSSSS!”
As Howlah exploded inside her, searing-hot spunk gushing into her womb and stretching her stomach like a ten-course feast, Sylvanas came again.
She imagined she could feel her beautiful little elven eggs being swarmed by Howlah’s vicious gnollish sperm, being pierced, filled, fertilized.
She dreamed she could sense her own DNA being shattered and twisted and mutated by the magics that had remade her, so that only the superior Gnollish genes of her many, many puppies’ father would be dominant.
She fantasized about her pure, strong, beautiful gnollish puppies growing inside her, chewing on her milky tits, wrestling their siblings and their packmates, conquering all of Azeroth beneath their claws and fangs.
“So… fuggin… haaaaaawt.” She managed to smile, before falling happily in Howlah’s insatiable paws.
-o-o-o-
The Ambassador of Orgrimmar was an orcish woman of spectacular beauty, her feminine curves and strong green muscle making her a sight to behold in any hall she stepped into. She could charm a noble lord into doing as the Horde required as easily as she could snap an assassin’s neck, and she was having a spectacularly bad day.
Until recently being in the court of Lady Sylvanas Windrunner had been an honour, and she had harboured nothing but respect for the Warchief of her nation. Sylvanas’ beauty and skill had been aspirational, a goal to strive for, an example to follow. Now the former idol was sat like a bloated sow, giggling as she was molested by her new ‘consort.’
Sylvanas’ voluptuous beauty had been perverted into a mockery of womanhood, her tits, bigger than her own head, now constantly drooling milk and almost always being fondled by Sylvanas’ hands, or her mate’s. Her hips, more than a meter wide, with thick wobbling thighs and a gigantic bubblebutt to balance them, were always scratched and marked with raw pink handprints. Her once silky hair was a tangled braided mess. Her flawless skin was marked with tribal tattoos and her supple flesh marred by crude bone piercings and stolen rings, slipped through her nipples, ears, nose, even her clit.
Worst was her belly.
Sylvanas’ first litter of pups were almost always scampering and brawling underfoot, mere weeks old but already vicious and mobile. Their younger siblings waited to join them, swelling Sylvanas’ once taut and svelte stomach, a dozen Gnollish sons and daughters ready to join the pack by the end of the year. The Ambassador wondered if poor Sylvanas would ever spend more than a few days not pregnant, if her spherical puppy-filled gut would ever shrink down from its perpetually spherical shape.
It was no wonder there were so many Gnolls to fill the ranks of the Horde’s armies and prowl the entire Kalimdorian countryside. Sylvanas had provided them almost thirty new children in less than her first year, and she was only one bitch amongst thousands.
In just a matter of months Gnolls had become a common sight across the Horde’s territory, acting as soldiers and Sylvanas’ own personal secret police in every settlement under the sun. The Ambassador still wasn’t close to being used to seeing the monstrous beasts prowling through her streets, let alone accept them pawing at the new Queen of the Horde.
Rumours abounded as to how the other members of the Horde Council had died or disappeared, but Sylvanas’ official story was that the Alliance had assassinated them.
The Ambassador didn’t believe that, and she wasn’t the only one.
“Lady Windrunner there have already been three defections from our ranks this past month. Powerful generals are abandoning our banner and vying for control of our territory whilst you sit back and do nothing!”
“Hardly nothing, Ambassador. I’ve dispatched assassination teams to remove the figureheads of these ridiculous rebellions, and Howlah has generously offered to send more of her fine Gnollish servants to patrol our cities and root out any disloyalty. By the end of the week there will be no doubt as to whom commands this Horde. Traitors will be picked from between the teeth of our soldiers, and those loyal will reap the rewards of fresh conquest!”
The Ambassador blanched. Sylvanas’ new figure might have turned opinion against her, rumours spreading that she was little more than a breeding doll for the Gnolls who now prowled the continent freely, but if anything she was more bloodthirsty than ever. In years past she’d been reticent to wield the Horde’s mighty armies as recklessly as others in the council had wished, but now her bloody eyes glittered with murderous excitement.
Before the Ambassador could lose her composure, Queen Consort Howlah chuckled and lifted a skull filled with sloshing red liquid to her bride. “You heard yer Queen, Greenskin.” She chuckled with a viciously toothy smirk. “Those generals are already being dealt with by our boys, ain’t that right lads!?”
A chatter of snarling laughter went up around the camp, joined by Sylvanas herself as she gulped down the contents of the skull, and wiped her lips delicately. Her giggle was high and girlish, but no less feral than the beasts of her court.
“Is there anything else, Ambassador?” She asked sweetly, as her consort’s paw slid around her waist and petted her gigantic belly.
“I… am concerned that an assault on the northern territories will incite the Alliance to counterattack on their behalf.” The Ambassador said, lips pursed around her jewel-studded tusks. “Open war after so much progress towards peace… troubles me.”
“The Alliance will barely have time to react before the entire continent is mine.” Sylvanas said with a dismissive wave, “and even once they receive word, they will turn tail and run like the cowards they are once they meet a legion of Gnollish warriors on the field.”
The Ambassador’s jaw bunched. She had tried so hard to remain loyal to her queen, hoping against hope that the woman she had idolised still existed within the obscenely voluptuous gnoll-mother she had become. But open war again for no other reason than Sylvanas and her bestial masters’ animalistic bloodlust? No… no she couldn’t abide that.
“My lady, I must protest, this is madness!”
“Those elf runts up north ain’t gonna know what hit them.” Howlah purred, “And once yer Queen has the whole stinking continent under her pretty toes, there ain’t gonna be anyone stupid enough to question her rule.”
“Her rule?” The Ambassador scowled, narrowing her eyes at Howlah, whose heavy palm was still gently massaging Sylvanas’ thick, supple thigh.
“Who else’s?” Howlah asked sweetly. “We’re all loyal to our dear queen Silly, ain’t we?”
She moved her paw and grasped Sylvanas by the scalp, turning the queen of the horde’s beautiful face to meet her snout in a sloppy kiss. Sylvanas quivered happily and opened her mouth to meet the slathering canine tongue lashing at her face, her cheeks gently enveloped by vicious fangs and stinking breath. The Ambassador felt her gut churn as Howlah’s thick pink tongue wriggled down her idol’s throat and stroked her neck from the inside.
By the time Howlah released her, she was panting and dripping with gnollish spit, and something new had come into Sylvanas’ blood red gaze, something the ambassador could only describe as lustful stupidity.
“Howlie… not in front of our subjects.” She purred sultrily, spreading her thighs to reveal the thick, hairy, soaking mess of her cunt. “These stupid runts don’t understand our love.”
“We can trust our Ambassador though, can’t we?” Howlah chuckled, turning to bare her fangs down at the Orcish beauty standing at the foot of her throne. “She knows how we deal with traitors, don’t she?”
The Ambassador did.
The poor souls who crossed the Horde’s new Gnollish members and were executed for it were the lucky ones, they at least died before becoming a meal for monstrous mouths. Others were devoured alive and screaming, and there were stories, rumours, of what the Gnolls did to women they found pleasing.
Loyal as she was to the Horde she had grown up serving, The Ambassador had no intention of sharing her ‘queen’s’ fate. She would play along, perhaps sneak word to those generals and spread awareness of the insanity that had destroyed the former Warchief, but to do that she had to survive.
The proud woman’s scowl of disgust and frustration was unmistakable, but as the grinning, giggling hulks of Howlah’s loyal pack closed in, she could do nothing but swallow her hate and curtsey to the bestial bride of her poor ruined Warchief.
“Of course, your majesties.” The Ambassador said through a fragile smile, flinching as a gnollish paw rested on her hip. “My loyalty to you is absolute.”
Howlah smiled.
“Good Bitch. Now fuck off back home and give our people the good news.”
The Ambassador nodded curtly and fled with as much dignity she could muster, her fellow diplomats waiting anxiously just beyond the stone circle that was now the capitol of the entire Horde. They would ride for Orgrimmar as fast as their steeds could stand, and then, with luck, they might just save their nation from its ruin.
As she hurried towards the majestic black stallion she had ridden since she was a girl, The Ambassador heard the giggling of Gnolls, the shrill, mad laughter of Sylvanas Windrunner, and the meaty clapping of a gigantic purple ass drift through the air.
“Knot me again Howlie!” Silly pleaded, bending over her ‘throne’ and throwing her ass back in a circle. She barely remembered that she’d just spoken to the Ambassador, let alone that the horde she had fought and died for was coming apart, once again the potions that held her tattered mind together had faded away, and all that was left was a bitch in perpetual heat.
Howlah laughed menacingly and pulled Silly onto her cock, snarling as she knotted her bitch for all the pack to see.
Over Sylvanas’ squeals and the sloppy smacking of her bouncing on her knot, Howlah bared her fangs and curled her claws to her boys.
“Let the Ambassadors have a head start, lads, you’ve earned a hunt. But bring the Greenskin back alive, we’re gonna teach her why Gnolls are best!”