"Master Orim! Master Orim! Look what I found at market!”
The elderly dwarf received quite the fright as I burst through the blacksmith door waving a stone phallus. I’d received incredulous looks all the way through my sprint through the dwarven district, though, as a human, it made a pleasant change from the looks of hatred these days.
The heat from the forge today was intense, and Orim had stripped down to a leather apron, as he had been wont to do before the… change. His nubile, naked ass perched atop a stool beside an anvil. I swallowed hard, trying to hide my body’s reaction within my apprentice smock.
“The blazes do ye have there, boy?” Orim rumbled, his deep, gravely emerging erroneously from his diminished and delicate body.
“It’s a… it’s a… well. It’s a thingy…” I blurted, feeling suddenly sheepish. “I know things haven’t been easy for you since the emperor stole all your… thingies and- and, well… there was this man selling dwarven…. thingies at the market. And I’ve saved up the money you gave me so…”
Orim sighed wearily and set his hammer aside. “Bring it here, boy."
I set the stone cock down on the anvil. Orim wiped his sooty hands off on his pert, forge-bronzed breasts before lifting the phallus to his eye, squinting at it. Then he fixed me with a withering stare.
“First of all, this isn’t mine. Mine is longer and thicker. Second, this is carved. Yer’ve been scammed, lad. I hope ye didnae spend too much on this ornament.”
My face fell. “Uh. No. Not a lot… Uh. Five gold pieces.”
Orim spluttered. “Five gold?! By the Gods, my cock wasn’t worth that much when I had it, let alone now.” He shook his head in disbelief, long tresses of hair dancing about his slender shoulders. “Yer a good lad - for a human- but too trusting. I’ll beat that out of ye if I have tae.” He handed the false phallus back to his young apprentice. “Find a soldier’s widow. She’ll give ye a few silver for that thing.”
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Alone in his forge, Orim was unsettled. He’d lied. The thing the young man had held was undoubtedly a dwarf’s manhood. It might even have been his own. But such an object was contraband with the death penalty attached for any dwarf found possessing it.
In disposing of it, he'd consigned one of his brothers to eternal, humiliating womanhood. A fate worse than death for any self-respecting dwarf. A choice he'd have to live with.
He wanted no part in this dwarf-human war. All he wanted was to keep his head down and focus on his work.
'Keep my head down'. His mind drifted to the unmistakeable tent in the young man's. There were rumours already that some of his dwarven brethren had learned to 'keep their heads down' or part their legs in exchange for preferential treatment from their human overlords.
Orim licked his lips as he considered his apprentice's human cock, wondering how much more of himself he would be willing to sacrifice for the sake of an easy life.
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