Defiled Daily Life
Veronica reacted just as expected to my words, putting up a fierce resistance. But the reason wasn't her slutty outfit.
"Wh-why are you coming along too?!"
"What, can't I go?"
"Even if it's just a sparring match, an orc like you getting involved in a duel between knights...!"
"Ah, if it pisses you off that much, you become an orc!"
"..."
She clammed up right away, apparently with nothing to say to that. Why? 'Cause orcs are awesome! Just look at our cute, pretty Snow White—how gorgeous is she? Takes after her dad!
...Is this brain damage?
Still, for such a stick-up-the-ass knight, maybe she'd finally learned something. Veronica had been getting pounded by me nonstop, so she must've figured I had some way to sneak an orc like me among humans. She didn't mention anything about that part, anyway.
Bottom line: me, an orc, strolling right into human territory—hell, among seasoned serial killers (personal opinion)—of my own accord? Might as well be a pig marching into the slaughterhouse on its own hooves.
She talked a big game about knightly duels and all that, but what she was really worried about was me slipping up, getting my identity exposed, butchered by her fellow knights, and then Silveryia—whose life was linked to mine (or so Veronica believed)—ending up in trouble too.
If she'd truly prioritized her knightly honor, she'd have sliced me up already while saying, "I hope my daughter dies gracefully too!"
Humans, man...
"..."
"?"
I started wondering what I'd do if one of my fifteen kids kicked the bucket. Honestly, aside from our third kid Snow White, they're all kinda meh—I probably wouldn't give a shit.
Anyway, enough random thoughts. I slyly dug into my pocket (shocking, I know, but I do wear pants sometimes. Doesn't mean I keep 'em on most days) and handed over some tiny wooden blocks that looked like female stag beetles.
What, need an explanation? For folks with filthy minds like mine, it's obvious: rotors.
"What's this?"
"Put it in."
"What'd you say?"
"I said put it in."
Veronica furrowed her brows at my words.
"Put it in?"
"You know what it is, right? You know where it goes?"
"Does it even feel right?"
"...You filthy, depraved beast. You'll end up in hell for sure."
"?"
She talked a big game, but she snatched the rotor from my hand anyway, fidgeting restlessly. She'd cursed me out first, sure, but it seemed like she really had no clue what the thing was.
Silveryia—well-trained slave and fresh off shaking off her mental fog, pretending to glare at me in disgust—snatched the rotor from my hand in a flash.
"Heeeng~..."
She slipped it straight into her pussy like it was second nature.
"Wh-what the hell are you doing?!"
"What else? Can't you tell by watching your daughter?"
"Th-th-th-this...!"
Whether she figured out what I was planning or was already imagining herself like that soon, Veronica started to snap back with something—then let out a deep sigh and casually tugged down her black panties just a bit.
She glared at me once, as if it were now routine, then shoved the rotor into her own pussy.
"Hngghk...!"
Her face twisted at the foreign sensation—nothing like a cock or fingers, no life force at all.
As I admiringly watched Veronica squirm, something tugged at me insistently. A gaze? I turned to see who was staring so intently.
"Ah."
Snow held out her hand boldly, apparently jealous of Grandma and Mom stuffing rotors into their pussies.
Almost forgot about her.
"Yours is this, little missy."
"Huh?"
Snow's eyes went wide as she stared at me, her face screaming, Really? No way... this thing? For real? Yeah, couldn't blame her.
What I'd given her was way smaller than what I'd handed Veronica or Silveryia—barely pussy-sized. More like a super-mini rotor.
What the hell am I supposed to do with this?! Snow shot me a resentful look, but no helping it. This was straight-up family education—and training for Snow.
Snow White, my daughter, had been lewd as hell since birth. Hell, her name was coined by some punk who offed himself watching me and Silveryia fuck. From nursing days to now, she'd spent years right beside our cum-and-lust-soaked routine, so she always chased even bigger pleasures.
Proof? Her catchphrase: "I'm gonna be Daddy's sow!"
I had no plans to stop her. Incest ain't rare among orcs, and we don't taboo it like humans.
But Snow was an adult orc on paper—still way too young and fragile for this world. Adult but immature. In other words, not fully housebroken. She was a tomboy now, sure, but let her run wild any longer and she'd turn into an untamable wild mare.
Orcs live by their dicks anyway, and with Silveryia's blood thicker in her veins than anyone's, who knows where she'd bolt off to down the line? So I decided on early education for Snow: straight-up conditioning.
Veronica got endless pleasure and humiliation training. For Snow White, it was control over pleasure.
That was my call.
"Heh heh, freaked out 'cause it's so tiny? Don't worry—Daddy'll show you how to use it special."
"D-don't touch my body!!"
Aw, she's sulking.
I snatched the mini rotor from her hand and pressed it lightly. Then I slapped it right onto her clit as she threw her tantrum.
It stuck fast.
"Eek! Eeek, eeeek!"
She tried prying it off, but no dice—I'd stuck it there. Even if she yanked it free and shoved it in her pussy, it'd barely register. Knowing that, Snow tearfully pulled her panties back up like swallowing bitter medicine.
For a second, her rebellious glare bummed me out—but then I glanced at Veronica and Silveryia, and my mood lifted right back up.
"Alright, time to head out..."
"You're just gonna go like that?!"
"Nah."
You think I wouldn't prep for this? I slipped on the bracelet Goju made me, tapped it, and felt some invisible barrier wrap around my body.
"There, good to go?"
"What... the hell...?"
Oh right, doesn't work on my people. I explained it was an illusion spell making me look like a dog to everyone else. Veronica half-believed me, muttering something like, Fine, a wicked bastard like you would have a trick like that. Like she already knew but just wanted an excuse to rag on me.
"Alright, let's roll~"
I flung the doors wide like a gentleman escorting ladies, hands guiding the way.
All I got back were icy stares. Especially from Snow.
"You get the gist, right? Nothin' fancy. For real."
Snap my fingers like this?
Vrrrrmmm~
"Hng?!"
"Hyak?!"
"Uuu..."
Veronica and Silveryia clutched their crotches—rotors buzzing inside them. Snow's was way milder by her standards, but the lingering tingle bugged her; her legs trembled faintly as she pouted at me.
Can't be helped, sweetie. 'Strength without control snaps'—you gotta learn limits and restraint.
Even this pathetic buzz had its own aesthetic. She might not get it now, but she's smart—she'd catch on quick.
And so, the "dog" version of me trotted into the hall just as the Isis trio—decked in fancy armor—stepped onto the red carpet.
Clack-clack-clack.
The three sows' footsteps echoed crisply down the corridor.
"Whoa..."
Suddenly it hit me: even back when I was human (pre-orc, face long forgotten), I'd never set foot in a mansion like this. Maybe that's why everything here struck me as so dazzlingly gorgeous—the suits of armor lining the walls, the fancy porcelain everywhere.
But what really caught my eye...
"Huh, walls are full of silver-haired beauties."
Framed portraits of knight-clad stunners with slightly varying eye colors. No photos in this medieval-level civ, so they must've hired top artists. Even as paintings, they captured the originals' beauty so vividly I muttered to myself.
Veronica scoffed at me.
"Hmph, thought you were just some trash, but you do have an eye for quality. Those are the esteemed ancestors of House Isis. This one is... Ahh?! You bastard!!"
Words dragging on? I pictured those silver-haired babes in some hentai scene, jerked off in my head, and splat—shot my load right onto the painting.
Instant reaction.
Shit, that was fucking hilarious.