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Middle-Earth: Shadow of Whore	By : salarta Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 13054 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings/Hobbit or any other Tolkien properties, or any characters, ideas or concepts contained herein. This story is a mere fan-made work, and I make no money or profit from its creation and dissemination.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Author's Note: Hello to all *checks notes* two of you that were waiting for this chapter! You... you're still alive, right?

I know the past 3 years since my Idril chapter have been a hell of a decade, but I hope you've all survived and are relatively unscathed. As you can see, I FINALLY figured out how to weave together all the bits I had in mind and got this finished. I had this started waaaay back when I wrote my Idril chapter but couldn't get all the pieces to fit until now. I seriously started thinking I would never finish this with how difficult it was to work out, so I'm very pleased to be able to say I managed to get it done. I wanted to include an image at the start here, but I can't seem to use imgur for it on Hentai-Foundry, so you'll just have to look at my imgur gallery of references: https://imgur.com/a/eQMI9v9 . Now all that's left is to write Eltariel... if I can remember what she and the actual story of Shadow of War were like. Fun fact: when Shelob was revealed for Shadow of War, I seriously thought it was an evil/corrupted Arwen and was sorely disappointed to find out otherwise.

CHAPTER TAGS: 3Plus, Abuse, Anal, Beast, BMod, Bond, CR, Ds, Exhib, Fet, Humil, MC, MF, Ms, Oral, Other, Rape, Slave, Spank, TF, Bukkake, Collar, Chains, Name Change, Silk Pole Dancing, Breast Enlargement, Nipple Play

"The world of Men is ending."
Shelob's eyes glowed, bright pinpoints of light amid an endless darkness. For centuries, few who saw them lived to tell their tale. Those who did, stammered of a beast stalking them from the shadows.
Not stalked. Stalking. Forever hunting them, whether they moved to Gondor or Rivendell or Bree. Driven mad, those who made it out of Shelob's cave alive swore they could hear it hissing from treetops and bedroom corners in the middle of the night. Coming to claim its lost prey.
But that was its more fearsome, vicious form. It had another. Emerging from its void, Shelob revealed the face of a beautiful yet wicked enchantress. Sharp thin eyebrows. Cloudy seeress green eyes. Raven hair floating on the air, soft as silk and light as clouds. Through honeyed lips, she spoke her truth.
"I have seen it. I have felt it. In the fires of Mount Doom, a Ranger and a Wraith bound together in death crafted the one thing that could challenge the Dark Lord. A Ring of Power. But power can blind those who seek it, and even the strongest bond can be broken... or so I once thought."
She went silent, briefly. Staring. As if waiting for those who heard her to understand. As if they needed the time, unburdened by the sound of her pretty voice to grasp her meaning. They failed. Dejected by how they knew not what she spoke, Shelob let out a disgusted sigh and began anew with simpler words for simpler minds.
"I have fallen. My wits dulled by hubris, I sought that Ring and fell to the hands of orcs. My defeat came swift and easy. Like me. For in my lust for power, I forgot there are many forms of lust in this world, and many rings to match. Rings that rule. Rings that find. Rings that bring. And rings... that bind."
The cascade of her lavish locks parted to expose her once hidden shame: a ring-collar. Glittery gold, its inscription burned with the Black Speech of Mordor. Nearly as old as she. Unbreakable. Unbending. Tight and firm, she had no hope of discarding the piece of cursed jewelry, and no control over its will coursing through her veins.
"The future I have seen CANNOT come to pass. And yet I fear it will, for I cannot resist my newfound love of orc cock. Lust calls to me again. How do I answer?"
"By takin' another load, wench!"
Semen splattered on her cheek. It dribbled along her neck, the unflinching monster of many nightmares soiled by its presence. They laughed. How the orcs gloried in making her wear their seed, while she spouted what would seem like wisdom if not for the hunger in her quim. Yet she would not stop. Nor did they want her to.
"Their cocks call to me. They call my name. Shelob... Shelob... suck us with your filthy mouth. Cradle our balls in your dainty hands. Show us the depths of your lust, that we might put you in your place."
This latest round of truth bearing earned her a barrage of cum. From all sides, shots fired across her forehead, upon her lips, into her hair, wadding and dripping and oozing into a massive spunky mess. Yet through it, she stared. She never moved. She never blinked. She took their assault with a calm that no earthly woman, human or hobbit, elf or dwarf could muster. Her almost proud smirk spread into a nasty rictus grin as she shouted.
"This old whore CAN learn new tricks, my masters! You have only to teach me. Leave me to my visions, or ruin me until I see nothing but white. The choice is yours."
No more stories to tell. No more prophecies. Only her body, ready to be judged.
She descended. Knees bent, legs spread, silk spooled from her pussy as her feet slipped upon its thread. Its wavering strand cut through the diamond of her calves and thighs, slickness clear in how it passed between her arches. In the musty stillness of her abode, she spun with the grace of a top-heavy ballerina whose pale breasts parted with the cleft of her chin. Their tar black nipples looked eerily like a second pair of big bulbous eyes from below. Always open. Always staring. Had she lingered midway, orcs might have trembled at the lidless monsters beside her rosy cheeks. But she dropped further, defining their shadows in glimmers to unveil the horny stiffness of a harlot who merely pretended at something fiercer.
Tension breaking. Threat waning. She sensed their fear shifting toward hateful lust. Eagerness to salve their wounded pride by punishing her holes showed in erections large, small, thick, thin, and everything in between. None of these details escaped her spider sight. Four new angles emerged, dotting her forehead, gazed upon the motley lot to savor what they offered. Already, dark arousal stained her loins with passions unwanted. Passion to serve. Passion for shame. Anything to degrade herself for their amusement. The gravest of their insults seeped into her hanging hair as it swept along the cavern ground.
"Masters."
Her long curved fangs formed a crook which should have sent them fleeing in terror. Creepy and creeping, a haunting visage to forever remind them of their mistake in crossing her. No more. Now, it showed her for a slattern whose urges knew no end. She could not hide her yearning, nor the ugliness of her soul etched into her painted face. Evil found its home in her from mouth to cunt.
"Have you come to test me?" she asked.
They greeted her with roars of triumph, forcing her lidless eyes and razor tips to recede until only the pleasing semblance of a mortal remained. Weaker. Frailer. Easier to bend over and teach the true meaning of power. Just as it shimmered on her ring-collar.
"Then test me you shall."
She slithered upright on her stripper pole of web. Like one of the lowly creatures of her home, the many-legged insects lurking in places as dark and wet as her cunt. Only her beastly heat kept such things at bay, warmed by the promise of what waited mere feet away. The orcs' scent funneled through her rigid nose, fueling her dance to kindle fires in their cherished groins.
Hovering inches off the ground, Shelob swung to and fro within the orc circle. Her breasts grew. Fuller. Firmer. Doubling in size until her engorged black teats pumped out silk in strings that ended in thick round balls. They were her tassels, swaying with a pendulum's flair. The smallest shake looked longer with their aid. How their tick tock, tick tock motion teased with a hypnotic zeal. Orcs toward the front stood in stupor, taken by her twin charms.
Once upon a time, she could have used this power to beckon these peons into her service as she had Ar-Baruk. Seduce their minds. Tempt their bodies. Whole armies would have lain siege across Middle-Earth and into Mordor as Sauron himself watched his defeat from above. Such dreams died the moment a thick band of gold found purchase around her slender neck.
She spun. Turn by turn, she wrapped herself in the gunk of her pussy's making until she dangled prone as a damsel for the taking, Legs tucked in. Arms bound to her sides. Only her breasts, head and holes felt the freedom of open air. Filth clung to her dark tresses. Filth not too far from what oozed at the end of a prick directly in her line of sight as she sailed toward it.
No longer in control. No longer knowing her own power. At the mercy of these orcs, she opened her mouth just in time for it to ram throat-deep into her first cock of the night.
"Take it, ya nasty whore."
Her lips tightened to the orc clenching her raven reins through his fists. He was a chump. New to the tongue arts of a woman. A woman who wanted it, leastwise. He blew his load in seconds, the fetid muck forming a mask that covered her pleasure as she sailed the other way with his release. Reeling backward left her with a nice surprise when the next orc lined himself up perfectly for the sheer force of her return to slam his prick straight up her virgin ass.
"Hrrnng!" Shelob grunted. Beneath the cum, her contours twisted into a unique mixture of rage and shame. The true terror snuck out for a fleeting moment, before a bright glow of Black Speech on her ring-collar siphoned those feelings back to her true calling.
"Howzit feel bein my cock sleeve, wench?"
She couldn't answer. She was too busy moaning. Within her bowels, the dark force of Sauron twisted her nerves into fragile bundles of joy. Every thrust sent shivers through her clit and up her spine more wanting than the best fuck she ever had in her blackened slit. She quivered under the bands of silk. Breasts heaving. Breath short and steaming. Black fog puffed from her mouth as keenly as it rose from the rest of her body. It betrayed her. Revealed her want for this treatment like the smoldering ashes of a bonfire sending up its smoke signal for all in range. This tryst had the mist flowing heavy with her scent.
A good fucking. That's what it said. That Shelob had received an offering that most sated her freshly carnal self.
When he came in red raw pucker, she felt the sting of orgasm soaking her loins. It left her senses blurred while they passed her around. From orc to orc, one by one they used her, loosing all their pent up frustrations of a world that denied them until they claimed her.
Cocks. Balls. A few asses. Their crudeness had no limits, the whole gang mirthful when her nose dug into a crack and brought her cheeks to cheeks. It lasted briefly and forever. The anguish of her pale face on swamp green flesh that rubbed in her loss as the orc shook.
"Ya like it, don't ya?"
Try as she might to compliment this master, Shelob's words muffled against his flab. The sound of her lips flapping on slimy skin brought much amusement to the orc's kin. She fit his cove to perfection. Not an inch went untouched, slotted into place like matching puzzle pieces. In the deepest pits of her twisted soul, the great Shelob feared having to lick this master's taint clean. Her tongue revolted. Shriveled at its imagined taste, somewhere between peat bog ooze and Gondor sewers.
This master showed her mercy. A few seconds of smearing her on his unwashed arse and he set her free.
Her next two masters were not so kind. When she sailed toward them, each captured a tassel. Forceful yanks took inch by inch from her sore nipples, sending waves of ache through her heavy silkbags. She gasped. Toes and fingers curling. Biting her lower lip. Her nails scraped her outer thighs to handle the pressure building in her bosom.
"Please, masters!" Shelob begged.
"It's mine, ya git."
"Mine!"
"Please! There's plenty of me to... to..." It was no use. Left. Right. Left. Right. She jerked side to side, stuck in the middle of their tug of war, a literal trophy for their struggles. To the victor went the whore.
Or so it would seem, if fate had not deigned another path. Amid their pulling, neither thought of its effect on the prize they sought. Her teats blossomed in size to match her head. Then bigger. Bigger. Bigger. Flooding and filling. Swaying as she was at dick-height, their drooping nearly to the ground would have been an awesome spectacle among Men. But these were orcs, and orcs never did well with warnings.
It took one more tug. Just one. In that instant, Shelob moaned her loudest as her tassels gave way to liquid silk bursting from her flush red tits. She sprayed the whole sorry lot same as they had her. Spinning, whipping, twirling over them, her dual streams reached the back rows in zig-zags to coat all of them in her sticky white stuff. None escaped her raging tits. Not the orcs. Not Shelob herself.
Climax broke down her walls of class and left her panting for more. Much more. More than she could ever have. She came to a stop, limp and worn in the middle of the circle. Tit-jizz waning from faucets to a light trickle. Through sleepy, hazy eyes, she watched both orcs fall backwards with the sticky ropes they earned for their failure.
She would, and should, have taken a well-earned rest. But then she felt a light pluck of her silk. It started from above and traveled down the line. Soon it teased her quim. Even through her sopping wetness, it hummed its clear command for the tired harlot.
More orc masters had a need. She would obey.
Gathering the last of her strength, Shelob slowly rolled upward. Layers wrapped over layers in her ascent. A mile's worth of silk, firm yet soft, stuck together along her whole length. When she reached the cliff where this night's journey began, little showed of Shelob but a pair of holes on the surface of an otherwise pristine cocoon. Those holes dripped their invite. Cunt and ass awaited their proper use as the attached woman slumbered.
Days passed with her in this state. Cut from her web, passed from orc to mangy orc. Within, she could feel power surging in her loins. Their power. Their hard and horny dicks, every time they used her by gripping her large round sphere and slamming her upon them like a babe dashed against rocks. Their coital wails shuddered her silk walls. Had she a voice, she would have joined. But she was changing. Each slosh of cum filled her essence with its tang. Left alone, she might not have known what to do with it. Their banter gave a path.
"Oy, it's my turn with the cuntball."
"Get yer own, I 'ad it first."
Between the spilled jizz and blood, she learned her meaning. Cell by cell, glob by glob, she shifted to match what her masters so desired. To them, she remained nothing but a toy. Inside was different. Her body. Her mind. The all-consuming ring of power made her whole.
One night, discarded in some dark and dirty corner of her home, Shelob emerged.
Semen squelched as her cocoon burst. Her hands broke through first. The rest followed. Wet and sticky, the watery muck slipped off her nasty new form as she stepped into the light.
Spunk and sweat coated her ghostly paleness. Few could claim to see the difference without their sparkle. Her resplendence glowed in a way that would have seemed ethereal to the untrained eye and unwitting mind. At least until the splotches of pink on her chest, cheeks and neck betrayed her. Specks of semen clung to her frosted eyebrows. Her cunt hairs matched those on her head, white and milky as the cum of her rebirth. Her cunt dripped with its unique brand of poison. Last but not least, a white mist flowed freely with a stench to match her looks. Her former smothering, smoky aroma traded for a fouler perfume earned from her many cuntball trysts.
She was a slut. Their slut. A spider turned lady turned semen demon, panting as her massive tits jiggled on a lithe frame sapped of its strength. It took all her might to weather the storm brewing between her legs.
Such were the whims of the orcs, who occupied her cave and quim like any other piece of conquered land. They named them Torech Ungol, the spider hole, a crude moniker for what they now owned. Their flags hung from stalactites and towers. Torches blazed outside their tents. Cauldrons bubbled with her children. Once, she would have chased this invading army from her domain. Now she smiled, thankful they permitted her to live among them for the small price of her dignity.
But the names and slights did not stop at her stolen home.
"Sheglob! Bring yer pasty white arse over here."
Amid leers and snickers, Shelob sauntered across the cave. Spider kin crunched under her heels. Soot jammed into her nails. Encrusted from toe to ankle in filth, her bare feet carried her down a well-trodden path to the army's captain: Golm.
Just Golm. Not Golm the Savage, or Golm the Brewer, or Golm the Rat. These orcs had no grand achievements to tout. They had her. A bunch of lowly greenhorns commanded one of the most terrible and awesome powers in Middle-Earth to do their bidding. They could have sent her to fight their battles for them, one giant spider to crush everything in their way. Such tactics never crossed their pea brains. As she reached Golm with his slick black hair and ratty loincloth, she kneeled. Legs folded beneath her. Hands in her lap. Chin to chest. Bowing.
"Sheglob has arrived, my lord. How may this worthless cunt serve you?"
"It ain't that cunt I want, it's that pretty little mouth o' yours."
She understood. Pulling aside his loincloth, she stared into his spindly dick. Brown and mottled and wanting. The smell hit her nose, which she crinkled, but she did not falter. The caves held far fouler things than the orc's musk. One of them was her. Descending on the shaft, her plump lips wrapped around its girth. They massaged like soft pillows rippling along rough leather.
Golm gripped her head. Tugged her hair. Shoved his prick deeper. Watched as her jaw popped to swallow his sack with the rest of his package. A long tongue snaked forth, slobbering over every inch. Rubbing it. Fucking it. Coaxing underneath to draw out precum in a way no simple blowjob could manage. The tip lodged in her throat, yet Shelob breathed through its gaps, looking up at him with flirty fluttery blinks.
"Howsabout that, slut?" Golm taunted. "Bet yer lovin the taste of dick after all that time playin with yerself."
Shelob could not deny his truth. Because he made it truth. His saying it transformed millennia of calm and measured mating into an arduous struggle with her lust. She suddenly remembered crouching in the dark, fingering her slit, hoping some unlucky creature would stumble into her lair. Not to eat him. To ride him. To plop her pussy on his manhood and relieve the woman within. However briefly.
She moaned through the organ in her mouth as it came. Thick spurts blasted into her belly, feeding a different hunger. A new hunger. Flesh and blood traded for the thrill of spunk sliding down her throat. The Shelob of old would have balked at the paltry offering. Sheglob craved it. Craved the insult of sucking this monster's dick for sustenance, desperate to fill her gaping maw with the only meal permitted to an owned and collared spider whore.
And for the orc's reward? As he withered, her cool breath brought a nice tingling to know her by. These toxins once helped the vicious Shelob capture her prey. Their new purpose served to ease his aches and pains. She made him loose. Wrinkled. Sated. All by huffing and puffing on her well-fucked mate's loins.
Jaw re-hinged, she kissed the pecker and released. Or at least, that was the plan. No sooner had she finished, when Golm forced her back onto his turgid orchead.
"You ain't done, wench!" he bellowed.
Slurping on the small, floppy knob, Shelob knew her duty and simply breathed. A spider's spinnerets had their place, but she was no normal spider. Her body defied logic, defied sense, put things wherever they wished. So it was that as she blew him, she bundled Golm's orchood good and tight in silk. Tangling in his pubes. Bulging at the tip. The end result left Golm with a sticky white cock sleeve.
It was his merit badge. A sign of his using the broken skank. One he and many other orcs displayed proudly, bereft of ratty loincloths to better show their pride and joy. If the whims of the orcs could be described in such noble terms.
The deed done, Golm shoved Shelob off.
She wiped her lips. Smirking, like she had a secret. Which she did. While Golm enjoyed her mouth, Shelob felt another hit of ecstasy sparking throughout her lustful brain. An interplay of insult and reward trained her well without the orcs' knowing. In these moments, her ring-collar weighed heavy. Glowed with an enchanting light that should have horrified her, but instead made her pussy gush into a white pool beneath her. She lost herself in its power... until another orc arrived.
Chain wrapped around the ring-collar. Latched with a hook. Tight fit, proven when the orc jerked it and Shelob flopped forward to her hands and knees.
"Time fer yer feedin'!"
She crawled. Like a dog. Like a caragor. Like any of a number of beasts owned and leashed by forces far greater than they could resist. Following, she strutted with her head held high and nipples scraping along rough earth. Majesty and squalor clashed on her lowly body, an otherwise elegant figure cursed with cowish tits that swayed side to side beneath her and wide hips wagging a humongous ass. Twisted away from grace and into sleaze like all things the orcs touched. An unearned pride beamed from her sultry smile. As if she thought herself to be entering a fancy dinner among royals who cherished her beauty. If only her orc betters offered half as much dignity for a beast such as her.
Soon, they reached her meal. Globs, the orcs called them. Little orbs made from the discarded webbing of dick cocoons. They piled high in a wooden bowl with her new pet name scratched into the side. Approaching her special dish, she stopped, sat, and looked up to her handler for permission. The roustabout seemed to enjoy making her wait. The growl from her starving belly, drool running down her chin, slight twitches as she kept her own instincts at bay reminded everyone how well they had tamed the monster turned cum fiend.
And for this show, she earned her reward.
"All right, slut. Git ta eatin'."
Shelob dove on the pile. Leaning forward, she sunk her teeth into the first orb and chewed. Cum gushed free, puffing her cheeks as the tensile strength of silk gave way to her sharp fangs. Mushing, gnashing, squishing, the sick sounds she made as she sated her ravenous appetite filled their ears gracelessly along with loud snorts that more than delighted her masters.
"Lookit the bitch go!" one exclaimed.
"Hungry little mutt, ain't it?"
"It ain't called Sheglob for nothin'."
She paid them no mind. In her little world, all that mattered was gorging herself until she could lie back, bloated and happy, their scum sloshing inside her. So intent was she on stuffing her face, their jizz splattered across it in a wild mess. Flecks framed her eyes. Wads around her mouth. A vision not unlike what ancient tomes depicted of the dark mistress from eons past, only here she traded blood for the seed of orcs. A sight worthy of derision and pity - but still a fragment of her darkness lingered. It showed when one of her masters gave a fierce tug on her chain, and she rose from the bowl with a deathly glare.
"Who disturbs my meal?" Shelob growled. Her old power surged. An aura of threat exuded from the lowly naked woman who moments ago ate in peace. Devoid of class and poise, a twitch in her eyebrow warned of an urge to rip the orc apart. She moved to turn.
And the orc kicked her in the crotch.
For a normal woman with a normal body, this would have brought immense pain. Not Shelob. A massive orgasm exploded from her tough quim, spitting drops of white as her horny whine echoed in their cave. The orcs answered with bellows that shook the cave's walls. They were legion. A band who wished to see her fall, time and time again. So they would.
"Please," she begged. "Have merc-"
The second punt lifted her off the ground. Repeated blows set her arms and legs quivering, until she collapsed into her bowl, globs popping, nearly drowning in the pool they made. It bubbled from her submerged nostrils. Strung out. Cocked out. Snorting her drug of choice, she shuddered to the orc's rough boots wiping his filth upon her slit as a final insult. The dirtied hole spasmed in need. She lay still and silent. Full but empty.
Then she heard it. Something to fill her void. The creature's mighty roars sowed dread into her heart, made her quake in fear to its claws scraping against rock. A freshly tamed caragor padded closer. Loomed over her with a presence that far, far eclipsed her own. She could destroy this loathsome creature, tear it limb from limb... once upon a time. As the terrible Shelob, Great Spider of the Dark. But as Sheglob the spider whore, her weak point gaped wide open for a beast eager to claim her.
And claim it did. She barely lifted herself from the wet pile in time to feel the caragor's prick stab her waiting slit.
Orcs cheered. Shelob groaned. Sharp barbs along her mate's shaft would have killed mere mortals. As a daughter of Ungoliant, her inner folds accepted those needle tips as if gentle ribs for her pleasure. The caragor raised its head to bellow. Shelob threw hers back to moan. Another thrust struck deep and true, and her jowls dripped with cum as they howled in bestial bliss.
"How do ya like Sting?" Golm jeered. "Bet he makes ya feel all warm in yer belly."
Lust sweat took her. Cum tears streamed down her hot red cheeks. Mated with a monster, all pretense of the ancient evil known as Shelob fell apart to leave her a primeval slut.
Amid her pounding, her mind returned. Briefly. Any time her ring-collar sensed her weakness, it gifted the orcs with a glimpse of Shelob from before its control for them to savor the dark queen's shame. She could not resist. She could not even brace herself for impact. No matter how much she protested or how loudly she expressed her rage, the creature continued to crush her quim.
"Th-IS... is nOT... how you trEAT... a GODDESS!"
"You ain't even a lady."
Laughter and an earth-breaking, voice-ripping climax broke the last vestige of her cunning mind. Shelob buried her face in her bowl. Her hips bucked against the caragor, as it blasted its seed into a womb that stretched to fit. Her gravid belly bulged past her enlarged teats. Already, it teemed with life. The same life that gushed free as a geyser when the caragor pulled out and left its used up cum bucket in search of a more worthy mate.
Hoarse, limp and spent, Shelob did nothing when Golm lifted her by her squalid mane. He had no qualms grasping her chin to lift her spunk-soaked face into view with moonlight sharding from cracks in the cave ceiling. It glistened like stars on a pale-pink sky, a full palette that took an air of the most absurd and smutty work of art.
"Looks like Sheglob's had its fill," Golm said.
She sputtered. Spit out semen. The gunk coated her throat enough to salve some of its ache, but her words came out coarse and crackly as she spoke.
"I... am Shelob the Great. Last... child of Ungoliant. Shadow Spider. The Terror That Creeps. I will not... not..."
Her litany of names long dead slithered from her lips faintly as she fluttered in and out of consciousness. Drained of energy and rage, Shelob hung loose as Golm draped her over his shoulder and carried her across the cave. Pitiful grunts popped from her mouth with his playful spanking. Drumming on that big fat heart-shaped ass paired with bellows from the orc drew eyes and ears near and far. He had an announcement, and her rear served as a perfect percussive to make it. His smacks chapped her reddened cheeks as they flapped, and clapped, and jiggled in a manner nearly as mesmerizing as her sultry dance. One could stare into it for hours if they chose. The imprint of Golm's palm stood out against her pale canvas. Hundreds had gathered by the time he stopped.
"Callin' all orcs! Sheglob's been good and fucked by one of our big boys. I'm thinkin' we should give it a good luck gift, if ya git my meanin'."
Golm dropped her into a seat of craggy rocks. Through her half-lidded spider's sight, she saw and felt its features. Rubbed her bare soles and soft fingers along its curves and grooves. Arms rested on a pair of armrests to her sides. One foot settled on an upraised stalagmite. It was her old throne.
Of dicks. In the time she slept, these orcs had crafted a place for her worse than any cage or pit. Those trappings would have afforded some privacy with a generic pattern accustomed to a typical beast. This throne mocked everything she was, had ever been, could ever be, baring her out in the open for everyone to see her massive icy white-capped tits above and snowy jizz valley below. She was Sheglob. Lowest of the low. But she had little time to reflect on that before they sought their next use of their prized tart.
They surrounded her. Dicks out, stroked with menace, aimed upon her lazing form. A vision took her then. A vision of hope. It may have been a simple thing, but it felt like a drop of water for a woman parched by this desert of misery and sin. It restored the tiniest morsel of her strength to speak this truth.
"Two... small hobbits..." Shelob said. "And a... a shadow? Oh. Ooooooh! They're coming. The fate of Middle-Earth lies in their grubby little hands. I see... I... see..."
Semen. White hot semen. It was the last thing she saw before it blasted the seeress out of her. A firing squad of cocks blinded her glazed over gaze with their thickness, washing out those notions of a strange and distant future with what mattered most. It soaked into her hair, covered her face, basted her whole head into a messy glob. From afar, she formed a strange chimera of cum and woman. Only closeness revealed her through flowing, thinning jism.
From the first row. The first set. Marching orders had that group parting to allow the next column a shot at transforming her into a true Sheglob. Their extra coats ran in little rivers down her back. Into her sore ass. Waterfalling over her magnificent bust. From the sweat of her pits to air snorted from her pert nose, her essence mingled with their reek. Unable to move, she lay back and stroked her swollen womb until she passed out on her penis throne. With hundreds more masters to go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But still she was there, who was there before Sauron, and before the first stone of Barad-dûr; and she served all but herself, drinking the cum of Orcs and Ologs, bloated and grown pregnant with endless brooding on her fucks, weaving webs of shadow; for all living things were her masters, and her pussy darkness.
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Middle-Earth: Shadow of Whore