On Alternia, carved into the planet’s crust, there are the brooding caverns…and then there are the breeding caverns.
This is where the freaks of nature are sent to make themselves useful to society again. Mutants, lowbloods with no other notable abilities, the lingering remnants of castes that should have gone extinct. Even Eiross, a fuchsia—a tyrian fuchsia at that—has been relegated to the life of a breeder, trolls who serve no other purpose than to replace the duties of the last Mother Grub that died out several sweeps ago. In essence, their job is to get fucked. Literally.
Breeders can’t simply take in pails full of genetic material with which to conceive eggs, so every so often they’ll receive visitors—studs, as they’re called—who volunteer to knock up any troll they choose. Technically, they aren’t supposed to revisit the same breeder more than once in a certain amount of time, but this particular law isn’t heavily imposed by any means, mostly because even the Empress herself prefers to have her pick of the lot every now and again.
It’s really no surprise, then, that Eiross has become something of a popular host. After all, who wouldn’t want to have their way with a fuchsia? The crowning caste of the haemospectrum lowered to little more than a living pail all because he was born a male instead of a female. The monarchy is rather strict about those things, you see.
In his personal cavern where he spends nearly all his time, Eiross has it quite good, honestly. The studs enjoy keeping him happy alongside having their fun with his body. They wouldn’t want him lashing out with all his highblood strength or taking the easy route out of this situation altogether, so even though he may not be in line for the throne, he’s certainly living a life of luxury here. He can’t say he minds. It was certainly an unfavourable position to be forced into in the beginning, but he’s grown to appreciate the life he’s been given. He doesn’t have to worry about cleaning a hive, buying or hunting for food, working tedious hours at a nine-to-five, or any of those mundane things the population at large has to deal with.
And to top it all off, he gets fucked on a nightly basis.
Don’t get him wrong; those perks don’t come without a few drawbacks. For instance, the only time he’s allowed to leave the caverns is to take the occasional supervised stroll aboveground to get some fresh air. Other times he can visit his fellow breeders, but for the most part, he’s forbidden from leaving this quaint little cave. He also has no real clothes apart from the scanty strips of fabric intended to entice the studs. There’s also no enforced guideline by which studs must abide. They can pretty much do whatever they want to the breeders short of killing, maiming, or crippling them in any way. Hell, they’re not even required to let the breeder orgasm, which is honestly such a shame sometimes.
On the flip side, Eiross has discovered a lot about himself over the sweeps because of that practice. He has a number of favourite guests who like to visit him regularly. It just so happens that he’ll be receiving a couple of them tonight.
Now, normally, each session is meant to be one-on-one to bolster the chances of a successful breeding. This is one of the few rules that are regularly enforced. However, when it comes to highbloods, rules don’t always apply to them, so it’s no wonder that when the Grand Highblood himself ducks into his cave, he’s followed by the infamous Orphaner Dualscar at his heel, dragging a very put-upon Summoner by the horn behind him. Now that’s an interesting trio. He knows from rumours the vicious kismesissitude the Grand Highblood and the Summoner share, but he can’t quite figure out how Dualscar fits into the mix. Perhaps he’s just along for the ride. Eiross wouldn’t be surprised.
“Kurloz ~ You’ve brought friends with you this time ~” he purrs with unmasked excitement as he stands from the concupiscent platform, pink translucent silks dangling from his waist. Golden accessories cling to him in various places—his fingers, arms, neck, ear fins. He certainly looks like royalty, if nothing else.
“Figured a motherfucker might’a wanted a li’l twist up in the ole bump ‘n grind.” The purpeblood’s lips are stretched into a wide, fang-filled grin as the three of them crowd into the cave. It’s not especially spacious compared or anything, but it’s definitely big enough to accommodate the Grand Highblood’s eleven feet of grandeur in addition to his spindly horns. The other two don’t measure up quite as tall, but even the Summoner, the shortest of the three, takes up quite a bit of space due to the massive span of his own horns.
“I do love twists. What say you we get down to business then, shall we?” There’s no point in pleasantries. They all know what they’re here for and Eiross is more than happy to oblige. This promises to be a fun new experience.
Kurloz’s grin widens at that and he wastes no time in grabbing the fuchsia by the back of the head, fingers tangling in the mass of long, wavy hair. He yanks Eiross back to the concupiscent platform, throwing him down on his back with little care for his comfort. That’s fine, though. He’s used to it, welcomes it, even. The sting at his scalp is a familiar sort of pain, one that sends a shiver down his spine as the purpleblood closes in on top of him. There is no soft lovemaking to be found in these caverns, no gentle lips, no caressing touches. It’s hard, fast, and a lot of the time painful. That’s just how he likes it, thankfully.
Drool already gathers on Kurloz’s lips as he hovers over Eiross, one leg hooked around his thigh, and proceeds to rip off the fabric barely managing to cover the fuchsia’s modesty. He lies bare but for his jewelry, large hands wrapping around his thighs (his fingers almost touch) and spreading him open for his own eyes to ogle. His nook is already damp and wanting, the tip of his bulge peeking out of its sheath with interest for what’s to come. Kurloz lifts his hips clear off the platform, bringing his slobbery mouth between Eiross’s legs without further preamble.
Eiross cries out with pleasured approval as that nimble tongue delves into his nook without warning. His legs hook over the purpleblood’s shoulders, clutching him closer as his claws dig into the sheets below him. Kurloz doesn’t bother with any attempt at precision; he simply licks into the cool, wet opening before him, tongue writhing about like a bulge, and nearly just as thick. It’s still enough to tickle the breeder’s pleasure, especially when he starts to fuck him properly with his tongue.
Cracking open his eyes, he can clearly see the other two are already starting to feel the effects of watching such a blatantly wanton display. The Summoner has his hands clasped in front of him as if to protect the illusion that he isn’t starting to wiggle in his pants and Dualscar looks awfully flushed, his eyes darting back and forth as if unsure if he’s allowed to watch.
Eiross throws back his head and moans loudly for show, back arching in response to a particularly delightful curl of the Grand Highblood’s tongue. He doesn’t waste much more time on foreplay, though. He’s always been quick to get to the main event. He sits up, wipes the pink-tinted moisture from his mouth on the back of his hand, then reaches down to the drawstring of his pants. Eiross watches with rapt attention as he pushes down the fabric just far enough for his positively massive bulge to slip free. Boasting a proud thirty inches, he’s easily the largest Eiross has ever had. He’s yet to be able to fit it all inside of him, in fact. He doubts that will change tonight, given their current company.
Kurloz opts for a change of position before he gets started, though. Grabbing Eiross by the waist, he flips him onto his hands and knees with pitiful ease. Then, arms wrapped around his middle, he drags the fuchsia up and around as he sits on the edge of the platform. Back to the stud’s chest, Eiross straddles his muscular lap to sit on full display for their audience. He smirks coyly at the two of them as he leans back against the purpleblood’s chest. With a pair of slightly warmer hands keeping his thighs spread obscenely wide, he feels the tip of that writhing monster slide inside him.
The first couple of inches are rather tame due to the tapered shape, but at eight inches, a groan is pushed from Eiross’s throat without need of being staged. He adores the way it just keeps getting bigger and bigger, unrelenting even after passing ten inches, twelve—he stops at fifteen, much to the fuchsia’s chagrin, but as he keeps the breeder pinned to his lap and slides his bulge out a few inches, he pauses for a fraction of a second before slamming back in even deeper than before. It forces a cry past his lips, throwing back his head again as tears spring to his eyes. He’s so big and so deep. It’s almost unbelievable how full he feels.
It doesn’t stop there, though. Kurloz repeats this a few more times, claws digging into the flesh of Eiross’s thighs, and then his legs tense. Before he knows it, Kurloz is on his feet, hands hooked under his knees while gravity keeps him firmly planted on his bulge. It continues to writhe and thrash inside him all the while, the new position offering a much clearer view of the way it disappears into his nook and distends his stomach somewhat each time it thrusts inside.
Eiross can’t see the way Kurloz jerks his head to gain Dualscar’s attention, but his sharp eyes are drawn to the violet when he takes a stuttered step forward, as if trying in vain to hide his eagerness to get his hands on the delectable treat bouncing in the Grand Highblood’s arms. Speaking of whom, he deftly lifts the fuchsia up and off his bulge, eliciting an indignant whine at the sudden emptiness in his nook. His complaints are nigh immediately stifled when he feels the tip of that bulge tease at a different entrance. He lets out a long, low moan as he feels it slip steadily past the pucker of his ass, completely unprepared for such a massive intrusion but all too ready for it all the same.
Meanwhile, Dualscar comes to stand in front of him, the rough edges of his face casting a menacing look about him due to the shadows of the flickering candles strewn about the cave. He looks dangerous and that, put simply, only makes Eiross even wetter. He arches his back invitingly, unable to do much more to show his willingness with Kurloz holding him in place mid-air. Dualscar, for all his imposing magnitude, holds himself with an air of nervousness, violet flooding his cheeks while he avoids any and all eye contact. Eiross thinks it’s rather cute, but he keeps that thought to himself as the seadweller finally relieves himself from the confines of his trousers. He’s maybe half the size of Kurloz, but the frills that decorate the sides of his bulge promise a rather entertaining experience.
He has to get up onto the concupiscent platform just so that his hips reach the same height at which Kurloz stands, but once he’s in place between Eiross’s legs, he wastes no time in feeding the length of his bulge into the awaiting nook, both of them groaning in unison at the sensation. He’s a few degrees colder than Kurloz, but ultimately still a touch warmer than Eiross himself. Still, the dual sensations of having both holes filled has him reeling, his own bulge fully unsheathed and writhing about against his stomach, painting it a translucent fuchsia.
Their movements aren’t exactly synchronized, but that hardly matters when it still manages to feel so damn good to feel them both thrusting in and out of him at two different angles. He feels positively stuffed, especially since Kurloz is bold enough to slide even more of his bulge in this new entrance than before. Eiross can feel their lengths wiggling against each other through the walls of his body, unable to help but feel as though his insides are getting stirred around in the process. Dualscar’s hands take hold around his hips, using them like handles with which to drive him down onto his bulge over and over.
Eiross is coming long before either of them get close, fuchsia genetic material spraying every which way from the tip of his bulge and leaking profusely from between his thighs. Neither of them so much as pause or slow their movements, all too consumed by chasing their own pleasure. It’s dizzying just how good this feels. Eiross’s head falls back against Kurloz’s chest, but he can’t help but catch sight of the neglected Summoner out of the corner of his eye, doing his absolute best to look disinterested despite the bronze flush of his skin.
Eiross throws him a lazy grin, extending an arm out to him as if to tempt him closer.
“What are you do—ahh—doing all the way over there, darling?” he asks, eyes pleading. “I’ve still got one more—hah—hole to fill, you know.”
“An’ a chatty motherfuckin’ hole at that,” Kurloz remarks, claws digging into the meat of his thighs. Eiross bites his lip with a squeak of pleasure, reaching up to thread his fingers through the wild mane of hair cascading around the purpleblood’s shoulders.
“You know how to shut me up, babe ~” he purrs before his attention returns to the bronzeblood still standing uncomfortably off to the side. “Come join the fun.”
He looks uncertain, eyes constantly shifting around the cave as if he thinks he’ll get in trouble for being here. Doubtful, considering his two highblooded escorts, but not entirely outside the realm of possibility. Eiross wouldn’t put it past Kurloz to leave him out to dry after all his said and done. For the time being, though, he brought him here for a reason, and Eiross intends to collect.
Slowly but surely, the Summoner approaches, eyeing the scene before him with clear intrigue. Fuchsia blood trickles down Eiross’s skin where four sets of claws dig into him, but all the same he seems blissfully lost to the pleasure, head tossed back and eyes closed, jaw slack as moans spill past his lips uninhibited. The Summoner spreads his wings, gingerly lifting off the ground to hover in the air just so, his pelvis level with Eiross’s head. The fuchsia blinks open his eyes and grins—a deadly sharp expression full of fangs—then doesn’t hesitate to reach out and unfasten the bronzeblood’s pants. A dripping bulge slips free, long and thing and very interested in the shape of Eiross’s mouth.
He sucks it past his lips without missing a beat, mindful of his teeth, and flicks his gaze back up to the Summoner to drink in the sight of his blushing face. Oh, how he wishes he could describe the pure ecstasy of being taken from three places at once. The Summoner chokes out a startled noise as Eiross swallows him down, the muscles of his throat fluttering around him. He bobs his head with abandon, tugging on the flying troll’s hips to try to encourage him to take the lead. He does, eventually, bracing a hand on each of the shoulders of his companions to steady his thrusts down the fuchsia’s throat.
He’s barely given any room to breathe, let alone sort his thoughts in the midst of all these sensations. The best part is that they all seem to reach a crescendo simultaneously. Kurloz buries his fangs into Eiross’s shoulder as his bulge thrashes inside him from behind without rhyme or rhythm until a torrent of purple shoots up into him, leaking out around his bulge and onto the floor. It’s quickly joined by the flood of Dualscar’s genetic material, containing his pleasure with a few quiet grunts as he thrusts forward a couple more times, sheathing himself fully within Eiross’s nook. And, last but not least, the Summoner doesn’t take long to follow, visibly shaken by the sheer satisfaction of taking his pleasure from the fuchsia’s mouth. He releases down Eiross’s throat without warning, a strong hand holding his head firmly in place to ensure he swallows all of it.
He’s damn near ready to pass out from asphyxiation by the time the bronze slips out of him, followed by the loss of two more bulges down below. Kurloz takes the time to gently place him back on the concupiscent platform, chuckling at Eiross’s whine, still so close to reaching another orgasm. The Grand Highblood unceremoniously grabs the Summoner by the back of the head and shoves him forward, so that he comes eye-level with Eiross’s leaking orifices.
“Clean up, gutter trash. S’the least a motherfucker can do to thank this fine bitch for a miraculous time, don’chya think?” He gives a boisterous chuckle as he turns to leave with Dualscar in tow, who is back to avoiding Eiross’s eyes as he scurries out after the purpleblood.
Eiross looks down at the Summoner still poised between his lax, spread legs, eyes hazy but hopeful. Luckily for him, this lowblood happens to be a gentletroll after all, for after a moment of contemplation following Kurloz’s graceless jab at his pride, he dips his head forward and fits his mouth over Eiross’s nook without further preamble. The fuchsia throws back his head again with a relieved moan that borders on a scream. Despite how close he is, he still feels so overstimulated after all that. His thighs quiver as the Summoner drives out the excess genetic material from his nook with his tongue, hands hooked under his knees to keep his legs spread wide open. He does the same for his asshole despite being under no explicit obligation to keep going. It’s almost as if he’s explicitly trying to get Eiross off, which is a rarity in and of itself and one he’s none too eager to squander.
It doesn’t take long to reach his climax, thankfully. His back arches off the platform, ropes of fuchsia spurting out across his chest and dripping onto the Summoner’s tongue. He keeps mouthing against him through it all, dragging it out for as long as possible until Eiross’s voice catches in his throat with slightly pained whimpers. Only then does he finally pull off, lips all shades of purple and pink as he stares down at the fucked-out breeder. He wipes off his mouth with the back of his hand, but it does little to erase the stains on his skin.
“...Thanks.”
And with that, he gets up to take his leave. Eiross blinks. Once he’s sure he’s alone, he can’t hold back a fit of laughter. What kind of troll thanks someone after something like that? The Summoner certainly was an odd one, to be sure.