Orcworm.co.uk

This thread should be about the beauty of Orcworm, and our fantasies involving the mighty one...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------



My contribution, which I have managed to remove the sexual tension from with skilled editing:

Orcworm awoke at daybreak, as he had since he was a boy, to the sound of a cockerel’s call. Kissing Lina gently, he thanked God he had been so lucky to find her amongst the others; her beauty was unmatched in his eyes, and her voice all the more soothing when she made him the old favourite - hot gooseberry pie. ‘Yes’ he nodded, she was a good wife.
Work on the ranch was hard; all work of the land was hard. Though it didn’t go without its rewards – a feeling of accomplishment, and security, and the knowledge that he could always provide for his family (which was soon set to flourish). He breathed in the sweet air and sent the last cow on its way.
As always, the town was full of excitement and laughter, with men drunk and singing, and their womenfolk shaking their heads in earnest. Orcworm shook a few warm hands and was offered congratulations on his recent marriage, which he accepted with a nod and a wink – a strange custom to which all the few inhabitants had become used to long ago. As he passed the sheriff’s office, he ducked out of sight – it had, after all, been him who pinched Old George’s chicken’s eggs.
With a relieved sigh, he arrived home and sat down into his favourite armchair…
[spoiler]+1 rep to the guy who remembers this[/spoiler]

I tried finding that old thread with those weird ass stories in it--can't find it.

one year ago to the day. impressive

You forgot the best part!


Orc’s muscles were tense and ready to act. The girl he’d convinced to come back here was lain unconscious before him on the bed, her legs slightly open, and her eyes puffed up from all the insensible crying. The stupid bitch didn’t realise what an honour he would be doing her by laying her – he was a king, adored by the masses; a warrior who had slain many foul beasts of the night; a diplomat, who had been the answer to many a call. Yes, he would be giving her an incomparable gift, that one day she would be made to understand. When she awoke he would do it, perhaps after he caressed her little hips, or maybe after she expressed her love for him, whilst he took her maidenhood. The latter seemed most fitting, so with an anxious glance to ensure she was still breathing, he sat down into his leather armchair, and skimmed over the many praises from his people.

Lately a peasant named Crackfawxx had taken his interest, for she wrote about him with such insight and charm that had she not already be accounted for, he would have taken her back here instead. Most recently she had written an inspiring poem concerning his plight and eventual defeat of the 8-bit clan, who had threatened to burn the homes of his people. He had to remind himself of her lowly rank, to prevent himself from responding to some of her appeals, and to bring himself to the task in hand – the girl on his bed.

She had in the passing moments stirred ever so slightly from her rest, so he took from the desk drawer a syringe filled with a handy drug that would ensure she enjoyed the moments to come. The name of the stuff had been rubbed off, but he had been ensured by the seller that it would heighten female pleasure, and lessen any doubts she held about his grasp on her (which, although unlikely, would be best avoided). With gentleness often unseen by those who loved him, Orcworm injected the mixture into her wrist so as to quicken the process.

Before his eyes, he could see the girl moisten and grow restless. Soon her eyes started to lull open, and he had her take another drug, this time to calm her nerves and to even make her happy. Despite his kingly rank, even Orc couldn’t fight his animal urges. He desperately wanted to do the deed now.

With haste, he pulled down his trousers, revealing an endowment that would not at all disappoint the many women who desired his attention. He grabbed her legs and pulled her body closer, to which she replied with an excited gasp. “Good.” he thought, “She isn’t going to struggle.” Without a moment’s more thought, he fucked the girl. She was adequate in bed, but sadly her shrieks as he pressed into her untouched body were not so pleasure filled as he had desired. He would do this again later, so he could feel more satisfied. He had also passed into her a warmth that would bring him a son and heir – an important job, which he was more than pleased to have completed; his contemporaries, FillerB and Purecraft would stop hassling him, and once again he could concentrate on furthering his affluence.


(Link to the old thread for Patrick http://orcworm.forumotion.co.uk/t2966-or...an-fiction)

(05-21-2012, 07:09 PM)sieve Wrote: [ -> ]one year ago to the day. impressive

thats actually...
holy shit
That was... on purpose..
obviously.

(05-21-2012, 09:46 PM)TheAndrewTaco Wrote: [ -> ]It's hard to top the grotesque abominations that you people call stories in that thread. Cut me some slack.

Orcworm flickered his eyes open, the troll rooster making its irritating screech as the sun rose. Orc rolled in the bed but was stopped by something next to him. With a sudden rush of horror he realized it was GoDJMike. Miek awoke, and, seeing Orcworm in bed next to him, they both screamed in terror. Miek's many layers of fat jiggled and bubbled as he frantically ran from the room in search of pants. Orc rolled over again and realized the bed beneath him was sticky and oozing with some sort of liquid. Slowly he rose and began dress himself. Just then, Miek ran back in having dressed himself. They stared at each other for a moment and instantly knew what to do. Miek ripped his clothes back off and they both jumped into the bed and vomited all over each other. Then, Patrickfreed walked in from the next room. For a moment he was confused, and then he joined in the fountain of vomit. When they were done, all three of them began to lather themselves in the vomit while french kissing with their vomit covered lips. Suddenly, Miek began to convulsively shart. Freed instantly stuck his mouth up Miek's ass and chewed on the shart while Orc and Miek continued to french kiss.

I based it off what was in the thread from last year.

Needs work, I know.

Mike is in my room right now, I was reading this thread. I read this out loud to him.

My lungs hurt.

"Twenty-five! Good work." The Lizardman slapped Orcworm on the back. "Keep up that effort, and you be jacked in no time."

Orcworm smiled shyly and put away his weights. "Y-you too."

Lizardman laughed. "Sure, tough guy, let's hit the showers."

As the two changed in the locker room, Orcworm couldn't help himself from staring at the Lizardman. There was something reptilian and wild that Orcworm noticed since the day that the two had met. At first he had been afraid of his feelings, but he had gradually become more and more curious with each passing day.

The Lizardman noticed. "See anything you like?"

Orcworm scrambled to collect himself. "Y-yeah, I mean no, I m-mean I was just wondering if I just thought that was a nice shirt."

Lizardman winked. "Come on over buddy, let me show you how soft it is."

Orcworm timidly approached the glistening Adonis. His sweat made the tight tee shirt look almost transparent. "W-wow, it IS soft!"

Lizardman chuckled. "Lighten up, man, no need to be so nervous. We're both guys here."

"We sure are..." Orcworm thought to himself, subtly adjusting his trousers.

To be continued?!?!?

Fine work done there Andrew, but I think I'll have to try to top that. And by try I mean succeed. Here goes nothing. Literally.

The shadows flicker on the bruised eyes of NeroTheDarkLord as he awakens from a sleepless night of agony. Fan blades above, spinning off balance as to allude to the happens of the past night which remain a blur of emotion to him. A bloody handkerchief loosely wrapped around the shaved head of the victims surrounding him only adds to Nero's own worry for the past. Frantically examining himself as well as he could with a moist tie covering one of his eyes, he notices the walls enclosing him from the outside world. Infected gashes in his upper thighs tingle as he tries to break free from his constraints. But suddenly, the quiet room fills with the pungent smell of bleach...but no one else in the room shows any signs of life. The sound of a deadbolt being turned to the locking position stops all of Nero's thoughts. He pretends to be unconscious while attentively listening to his surroundings in hope of finding an answer to his questions. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Nero struggles to control his heart rate. Footsteps near closer to the chair he sits in...then silence. An overwhelming sensation of numbness overcomes his body. His eyes slowly close as the sharp sting of a needle is felt in his left bicep. Unable to open his eyes, he relies solely upon his hearing to interpret the events unfolding before him. A faint knock at the door is heard...then a scuffle of the feet nearing the opposite corner of the room. The deadbolt is released, and the door swings open. The muffled sound of a voice behind a gas mask is heard - only adding to the suspicion in Nero's mind that his worst fear has come true. Being held for ransom by scapegoat drug dealers. The door slams, and a large container opens with a squeak of the hinges. Two sets of footsteps near the chair where Nero resides. Then, out of the silence, a third voice is heard. He speaks and asks of the masked man - "and what share shall the man of the hour take from our profits?" A reply of - "the agreed upon amount is heard." So be it the third voice answers, a suppressed gun shot following the dialog. And with a single remark - "we're out of here." Two footsteps head towards the door. It swings open with the air from the outside world and another person. An inaudible chatter in Spanish dialect catches Nero's attention. The man approaches, and removes the handkerchief from Nero's swollen head. With a distinct Chilean accent, the man asks a single question in English - "Sour or sweet my love?" Nero frantically replies by asking, "who are you?!" "They call me, Peter Porty."

I must give you credit for that. Here is my response:

Why Silentprotector is leaving - A narrative


The rapid change of lighting in the room stung Silentprotector's eyes as he opened them. Barely able to see, he tried to discern the shapes in the room. Suddenly everything went black.

He awakened several hours later and suddenly noticed his trousers were missing, as well as his left arm. Looking around he saw that the shapes had gone and there was nothing in the room other than the table he lay on, half naked.

Several men walked in wearing biohazard suits. They spoke a language unfamiliar to him. They seemed to be arguing. He was able to understand the words "captive", "Silentprotector", "rape", "Orcworm", and "Rardical's 24/7 SMP Server". He then understood what was going on. Frantically, he ran from the room, still with no trousers, making sure to post a thread before he escaped his captors.

...

Porque no te gusta?

(05-21-2012, 10:41 PM)sieve Wrote: [ -> ]

>not posting this way superior video

As the fog cleared, TheAndrewTaco saw it. A primeval instinct swept through his body and he turned to run. His feet pounded across the concrete as it grew closer. He knew it was only a matter of time before he slowed down. It grew closer and closer until it finally caught up with him.


Three days later, The police found a dead body lying on the side of the road. They brought it back to the forensics lab for an autopsy. When the scientist that was in charge walked in, their jaw dropped in surprise. "What the hell is this!?" she yelled, looking with alarm at the sheriff. "I don't even know" The sheriff responded, looking off into the distance. "Whatever it is, there is more coming. Whoever did this to him is still out there."

--- To be Continued ---

---

I may or may not make a series out of this

(05-21-2012, 11:01 PM)GoDjMike Wrote: [ -> ]Fine work done there Andrew, but I think I'll have to try to top that. And by try I mean succeed. Here goes nothing. Literally.

The shadows flicker on the bruised eyes of NeroTheDarkLord as he awakens from a sleepless night of agony. Fan blades above, spinning off balance as to allude to the happens of the past night which remain a blur of emotion to him. A bloody handkerchief loosely wrapped around the shaved head of the victims surrounding him only adds to Nero's own worry for the past. Frantically examining himself as well as he could with a moist tie covering one of his eyes, he notices the walls enclosing him from the outside world. Infected gashes in his upper thighs tingle as he tries to break free from his constraints. But suddenly, the quiet room fills with the pungent smell of bleach...but no one else in the room shows any signs of life. The sound of a deadbolt being turned to the locking position stops all of Nero's thoughts. He pretends to be unconscious while attentively listening to his surroundings in hope of finding an answer to his questions. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Nero struggles to control his heart rate. Footsteps near closer to the chair he sits in...then silence. An overwhelming sensation of numbness overcomes his body. His eyes slowly close as the sharp sting of a needle is felt in his left bicep. Unable to open his eyes, he relies solely upon his hearing to interpret the events unfolding before him. A faint knock at the door is heard...then a scuffle of the feet nearing the opposite corner of the room. The deadbolt is released, and the door swings open. The muffled sound of a voice behind a gas mask is heard - only adding to the suspicion in Nero's mind that his worst fear has come true. Being held for ransom by scapegoat drug dealers. The door slams, and a large container opens with a squeak of the hinges. Two sets of footsteps near the chair where Nero resides. Then, out of the silence, a third voice is heard. He speaks and asks of the masked man - "and what share shall the man of the hour take from our profits?" A reply of - "the agreed upon amount is heard." So be it the third voice answers, a suppressed gun shot following the dialog. And with a single remark - "we're out of here." Two footsteps head towards the door. It swings open with the air from the outside world and another person. An inaudible chatter in Spanish dialect catches Nero's attention. The man approaches, and removes the handkerchief from Nero's swollen head. With a distinct Chilean accent, the man asks a single question in English - "Sour or sweet my love?" Nero frantically replies by asking, "who are you?!" "They call me, Peter Porty."

Me? A victim? You got humor, pal.