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"How do you like it? It's not too much, is it?"

Jerom stood in shock at the room prepared for him. Sure, it wasn't as elegant or religious compared to what a paladin was accustomed to, but he hadn't expected a room to be prepared for him at all, much less one with an actual bed and furnishings. Was that a tub and a wash basin? He was taken aback by how civil it all seemed. Even with his eyes having been opened and his prejudices questioned, the orcs continued to surprise him. He didn't know why that should be the case other than years of propaganda. He would... need to work on that. It filled him with shame to see them as anything but equals, anymore.

"It's... fine. It's wonderful, actually. I'm just a little surprised this is for me. It's such a big room for someone my size? Makes me feel like I'm taking advantage, here..."

"It's just the guest room I use for overnight visitors, including other chieftains should they decide to grace me with their presence," Baal-gron chuckled. "It's small for me, but I suppose for a human it's a bit overwhelming. I'm happy to hear it will do; my only regret is that we can't have our meeting today. Some important matters require my attention, but you've come all this way just to visit me, and right after such a... tiring experience. You may wander around the Hall with one of my guards supervising you, if you ask them nicely, but otherwise I would advise you rest here for the time being. Freshen up, if you feel the need, but do tell one of my servants so they can help you heat the bath; I wasn't certain if you would be up for it, but I took the liberty and drew one for you anyway. Should you feel yourself needing anything, then feel free to call on the servants for... other needs, as well."

"Other needs?" Jerom inquired, but all the answer he got for that was a chuckle before Baal-gron was off to attend to some business or other. Jerom couldn't help but stare at the retreating chieftain, thinking of how good it might feel to caress those meaty thighs and...

"Do you need something?" he was asked by the guard, causing him to jump slightly as he was startled.

"Ah... well... could I maybe get someone to run my bath, like the chief suggested?" Jerom asked, albeit a little timidly. He wasn't even sure if he wanted a bath, though he was sure he needed one by now. Plus, he felt awkward just standing there, having been caught staring like that. He didn't want to waste the guard's time just because he'd been lusting after their leader.

"Sure," the guard said, appraising Jerom as he smiled. "I'll send for someone right away, handsome. Just go inside and relax until they arrive. Some of the men might get ideas about you if you stay out here, after all..."

Jerom wasn't so sure if that'd be a bad thing or not, but he did as he was told, closing the sliding door behind him. Lying down with his back on the bed, he allowed his mind to wander while he waited. How long had these orcs been here, anyway? He'd thought perhaps they'd been digging in for a war camp before, but they were constructing more than walls and battlements now? The Hall was a building the size of a manor, by human standards, so that implied they were intending to stay for a longer amount of time. It suddenly occurred to him that he really had no idea where he was, exactly. He'd assumed it was in the forest somewhere, but since he'd been unconscious for the journey it meant he could be anywhere in their territory. He had no real way of knowing, and the thought would have terrified him more if he had been captured by a more hostile and unforgiving tribe. Still, to have so many orcs in one place, building what might be a settlement or stronghold, and nobody else had noticed besides 'orcs are in this forest'? He wondered at that. A loud knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Evening, Ser," said another orc, entering the room in nothing but a loincloth.. He was a fair bit smaller than some of the others he'd seen, but he had no doubt he'd still be tough to fight from all the muscles and scars he could see on him. Still, Jerom couldn't deny the orc was attractive, though a bit more slender and curvy than he'd expected.

"E-evening," Jerom replied, chastising himself for leering again. "Thank you. I'd do it myself, but I can't cast a small flame, nevermind heat an entire tub of water or..."

"I know all about that, Ser. I've served an exiled paladin or two in the past; it's no trouble at all, really. Though I admit you're the first guest in a while who was so polite about it. Wouldn't believe how many 'tough, manly men' complain when the water is even a small bit tepid but... ah. I forget myself. I shouldn't talk about my superiors in such a way. It is unworthy of someone of my station."

"I don't mind at all really, but I also don't want you to get in trouble," Jerom said, grinning a bit sheepishly. "But um, I didn't realize the chieftain had servants, if you don't mind me saying so."

"Why wouldn't he?" asked the orc. "Every chieftain has servants, even if they don't always fulfill the same function. Same as your own nobility, I s'pose. Half the time I feel I'm the only one maintaining any sort of decency in this place, what with the Chief's appetites and all but, ah... never you mind that, even if I do run me mouth. You wanted your bath heated, so..."

Clapping his hands together, the orc mumbled a few words before dipping the palms of his hands into the water. He continued his incantation until Jerom could see steam beginning to rise from the surface of the bubbling water.

"There. If it's too hot, let me know, Ser. I can also assist you in bathing, should you require it."

"I... should be okay on that, really," Jerom said, blushing at all the things he wouldn't mind doing with the orc right now. "Um... perhaps you could send someone to come wash my clothing, if it's not too much trouble?"

"I bet, after what you've been up to. Oh, don't act so surprised, Ser. Every orc from here to the wall knows what you've been getting up to. There's no shame in it either, and half of us are rooting for you even."

"Rooting for me? Why?"

"Ah, I'm not allowed to discuss that..." the orc said, waving Jerom away dismissively. "Forget I said any of that... but ah, Ser. Your clothes?"

Jerom blushed, before quickly disrobing and placing them in a pile on the bed. Before he could hand them over, the orc expertly collected his clothes out from under him. Jerom was so close to him as he did so that he almost reached out... but he restrained himself and headed towards the bath instead, wondering what had gotten into him lately that he would be so forward like that.

"If you need anything else, including some company," the orc offered from the doorway, a lascivious grin plastered on his face, "then don't be afraid to send for me or one of my fellows. We're all rather excited to serve someone of your status, Ser. Not every day you see a human in the camp, much less one who was a paladin. Though as I've said, I've 'served' quite a few..."

Before Jerom could ask what he meant by that, the door was shutting behind the orc, leaving him to his own devices. Shrugging, he carefully extended one leg over the lip and into the tub, the other following shortly. Slowly lowering his body into the water as each part adjusted properly to the heat, he realized that while it wasn't extremely hot, the whole situation was strange to him that after all he'd been through. Here he was, taking a hot bath in an enemy encampment... no, not enemies. He was already decided on that one. While he didn't really want to betray humanity itself, he knew the Church had been feeding them all nothing but lies about the orcs. They weren't mindless brutes or savages or anything of the like, though perhaps some of the more war-focused tribes might give off that impression at first. He figured the same could be said of their own military, however. Maybe humans thought their knights and paladins to be noble crusaders for the gods, but he'd seen enough battles to know just how vicious and bloodthirsty a man could get in the heat of the moment. Sighing, he pushed such thoughts out of his mind, trying to enjoy one of the few good things to happen to him that seemed completely normal... even if the tub was rather large for him.

"More room for me," he chuckled, sighing as his muscles started to relax. He was actually a fair bit sore from his treatment earlier, now that... whatever had been used on him had worn off. Those twins had really split him open, hadn't they? He felt himself getting hard at the memory, the experience still far too fresh in his mind as he almost found himself repeating that mantra again. As tempting as it was to do just that, he closed his eyes instead and allowed himself to focus on relaxing for the sake of relaxation, not sex or being dominated or whatever. He'd start cleaning himself off soon enough, choosing for the moment to rest his eyes for a bit as he enjoyed himself...

He suddenly felt a firm but gentle tap on his shoulder, causing him to wake up with a start. His first sensation was how cold the water had gotten, causing him to shiver a bit. He quickly looked over, seeing a flash of red facial hair framing a giant tusked smile. Baal-gron had pulled up a chair next to the tub, making Jerom wondder how long he'd been there.

"You looked so handsome I didn't want to wake you, but well..." Baal-gron chuckled a bit, dipping a hand into the water. "A servant really should have checked in on you before this even got to the point of being tepid, but it can't be helped now. I'll make sure to have a talk with my servants about this later. Hope you don't mind my being here like this, though. With me."

"I d-don't mind, but... I th-thought you had something to attend t-to?" Jerom asked, blushing slightly as he shivered. He must have really been out of it if he'd slept through his bath going cold like this. He couldn't help but feel flattered at the attention he was receiving because of it, however. Jerom felt his heart melting as he felt a connection with the bigger man.

"Here... let me get that for you," Baal-gron said, his violet eyes flaring to life as he slowly swirled his fingers in the tub water. Magic was obviously at work, as the bath was soon hot again. "Yes, I'm what your kind call infused, before you ask, though it's not quite the same thing as what you humans do. I'm sure my men told you at least that much about me, with my magic and all."

"I honestly forget the specific details, but they did say you knew quite a bit of magic," Jerom said, impressed. Clutching the emerald-encrusted sword around his neck, he sighed in disappointment once again. "It's just... eh..."

"What's wrong? You can tell me what's on your mind. As Chieftain it's my duty to attend to the needs of my people, as well as anyone else under my protection. Doubly so for guests."

"You just remind me of someone, is all," Jerom sighed, leaning back against the tub wall. "But he was a human, not an orc. And although he died a year or so ago, I sometimes clutch this pendant he gave me, hoping I'll feel him again. Hoping I'm wrong..."

"Ah, yes. Brendan," Baal-gron sighed. "He was your lover, if I'm not mistaken. Why do I remind you of him, though?"

"I don't know. Your smile, your red hair, your violet eyes... how gentle you're being with me and- wait, how the hell do you even know about him? Oh, wait. Right. I told Zro'dun. Of course he told you..."

"Don't feel too bitter about it," Baal-gron reassured. "Every single member of my tribe is compelled to tell me the truth at all times due to their oaths, even though most wouldn't think to lie to me anyway. He couldn't help but tell me everything when I asked how his first night with you went. And yes, I know the gist of about everything you've been up to since you've been here. Neat hidden trick of that collar you've got on. I love artifacts with multiple uses. They really knew how to build them back then..."

"I guess that's how you knew where Sol and Badr took me, then," Jerom said, understanding dawning on him. A stray thought suddenly caused his face to turn crimson as he sheepishly looked up at Baal-gron. "...Does it let you listen in, too?"

"Afraid so, but only when I want it to. Mostly I just used it to keep track of your location, not necessarily your... exploits. Karo was so reluctant to let you go, even knowing he could only have you for a week to himself. He loves molding and shaping soldiers like you, but between you and I, well... I'm pretty sure he just gets off on the domination. But he's a good commander, and the men don't seem to mind either. I can't say the results haven't been satisfactory, either... even taught me a thing or two."

"I noticed the, um, dominating part," Jerom said, blushing. "Still, it was good being one of his soldiers, even for a short amount of time... ah, you don't have to do that!"

"Hush now, Jerom," the big orc whispered, having taken Jerom's arm to begin scrubbing the dirt off. "It's my duty to serve my people as much as they serve me. Though if you really want me to stop, I will. I'll even leave if you tell me to. I just want you to know that you have nothing to fear from me."

"I... don't want you to leave, really. And I'm not scared it's just... this is sort of..."

"Weird? Strange? Different?" chucked Baal-gron, continuing his ministrations. "I suppose it must be to someone like you. A big, strong, handsome orc like myself, and a chieftain at that, scrubbing you down in a tub as if it were all completely normal? But I'd be lying if I said you didn't also entice and intrigue me, but you've already had such a long day. Besides, we won't be doing anything together until after we've had your hearing. Though only if that's what you want, of course. No pressure or obligation on your part. Just letting you know that door is open..."

"Hearing? Am I in trouble?" Jarok said, suddenly anxious about his immediate future.

"Oh, no. Poor choice of words I suppose, though a judgment will be rendered all the same," Baal-gron said, sighing. "I feel you're ready. As much as you've been enjoying yourself here, I can't keep you here like this forever... despite what I really want. Tomorrow, I'm going to give you a choice..."

"To see if I'll stay or... leave," Jerom said, sighing. "I figured that was the case."

"Some of my men have been saying things they shouldn't," the chieftan said, "...but yes. That's the simplest way to explain it. While I would love nothing more than to keep you here with me, a human living among orcs would have a rather difficult life even with a tribe amenable to it. You'd face prejudice, for starters, and everyone around you would be so much bigger and stronger... though not necessarily more skilled. You're very feisty with that battleaxe, Jerom. It's some of what attracted me to you in the first place."

"Now you're really reminding me of Brendan," Jerom said, staring into the orc's eyes. "He often said the same thing."

"Did he, now?" chuckled Baal-gron. "Guess he had good taste, like me. Though obviously I'm a fair bit greener. And larger. The public would be hard-pressed to believe me if I said he and I are twins, judging from how you describe him. Close your eyes..."

As the chief cupped water in his hands, Jerom obeyed as he felt it being poured it over his head. Spluttering a bit from the water in his face, Jerom blinked the water from his eyes as he brushed his hair back out of his face. His hair had really gotten long, hadn't it?

"Feeling better?" asked the orc, prompting Jerom to nod in appreciation. "Good. Hopefully that makes up for the cold water. I don't like leaving my guests uncomfortable and... unsatisfied..."

Jerom found himself drawing in closer to the chief, his face hovering just inches from those tusked lips of his. As he was about to move in, the orc suddenly pulled himself away, acting as if the moment had never happened. Jerom found himself sighing in disappointment, though he wasn't sure why he was wanting to be with him in the first place. Even if he reminded him of Brendan so much...

"Ready to dry off?" the chief asked.

"I am. Been in this tub long enough as it is... but thank you, really. I-"

With a snap of Baal-gron's fingers, purple energy filled the tub, matching the glowing intensify of the orc's as it all boiled away without heat, taking the dirt and grime with it. Jerom was surprised that his body was dry now, as well.

"You could've done that any time, huh?" Jerom asked, impressed. "So that whole normal bath thing was..."

"An excuse to appreciate your form one last time before tomorrow, yes. But, well, magic makes things so impersonal if you use it on everything all the time. I think it's nice to take a normal bath, from time to time. If only to remind myself I'm mortal. And as I said, I hate leaving my guests unsatisfied."

Chuckling, Baal-gron helped Jerom out of the tub before the human tripped, falling into the chief's arms as he caught him. He was very, very aware of how naked and hard he was at that moment, and he was also aware of how turned on the orc was as well. And yet he found he couldn't really tear himself away, sighing as he closed his eyes.

"You truly do miss him, don't you?" Baal-gron said, brushing his fingers through his hair.

"...Every day," Jerom whispered. "Every damn day. Maybe I forget for a while, but then something reminds me... and then it's like I'm being stabbed in the heart again. I'm just so lonely. So tired..."

"Well... let's get you to bed, then. It's already dark out, and I'm not about to take advantage of you in this state. Not like this."

"Can't you at least stay with me, tonight?" asked Jerom, a slight sob in his voice. "I know you're not him, but..."

"Not tonight," Baal-gron tenderly whispered. "If tomorrow you feel the same way about... us... then perhaps I'll allow you to join me in my bedchambers. Maybe more. But you're in no state tonight to be making such decisions. I'll stay by your side until you fall asleep, so just allow yourself to rest, Jerom. You've earned it."

Guiding him to the bed, the chief traced the scar on Jerom's stomach as he smiled down at him... he seemed almost sad. Jerom wished he could stay with him the whole night, but the Baal-gron was right. He was in no position to make that sort of call, especially since he could still feel the twins' mantra tickling the back of his mind from time to time. He figured a good long rest would fix that and help him sort out his feelings in the morning. True to his word, the chieftain stayed a while longer, encasing the smaller human's hand in his own larger mitt as he watched Jerom drift slowly off to sleep. The orc chieftain reluctantly withdrew, rising quietly as he took his leave. A wave of his hand was all it took to snuff the lights from the room, leaving Jerom in the peaceful embrace of the summer night.

*******

When Jerom woke, sunlight was pouring through the slats of the window shutters. He was still surprised at how overly human some of the construction was, and yet some details were definitely different when he looked around the large room. It was obviously all built with an orc's size in mind, but that wasn't it. It was just small things in the architecture that reminded him this was a chieftain's hall, and outside the room it had been drastically different. Perhaps some of the guests the chieftain entertained were humans like himself? It would explain the dual nature a bit, but why bother going through all that trouble?

"Jerom, breakfast is being served for you in the main hall today," a guard said, poking his head through the door. "When you're ready, I'll take you there."

The human normally might have covered up at the intrusion, but today he didn't mind as he was too absorbed in his worries and anxieties to do much other than grunt in acknowledgement. He knew what the audience was for, but the way the chieftain had made it seem as if it was some mysterious thing... Jerom couldn't help but wonder at that. He was also worried that during it all, the chieftain would be more formal and cold than what he'd seen last night. Some part of him didn't want to see the orc in that light, tainting what few memories he had collected of him so far. But it couldn't be helped, either way. His clean clothes were folded up on a nearby table, but as he crossed the room to them he thought better of it... and instead headed toward the door to get the guard's attention.

"Do you happen to know any barbers?" he asked, causing the guard to smile as he puffed his chest up with pride.

"Funny you should mention that," the orc said, pulling a knife from his belt instead. "I used to be a barber myself before all this. Cut and a shave, then?"

"I... yes. Thank you," Jerom said, taken aback. "Orcs have barbers? Um. Sorry. That was insensitive..."

"Don't worry about it. And no, they typically don't. You can thank the Chief for that, though. He welcomed me in without judgment."

"I will, thank you," Jerom said, a bit confused as he let the guard into the room. It wasn't too complicated, just a simple cut and trim; while he cut his hair short, he simply had the beard touched up a bit to make it more presentable. It had grown quite a bit and he'd already grown so used to it that it was inconceivable not to keep it going now. He didn't have a beard buckle, but he ran his hand through to straighten it a bit. It would have to do.

"Let me get dressed and then I'll be ready. Thank you again... ah..."

"My name's not that important," the orc said dismissively. "And thank you. Felt good to do that again. I don't get much practice anymore, especially on humans. Not many orcs around here even have need for a barber, you know?"

"I've noticed," Jerom said, laughing with the guard. He liked him. He'd have to get his name later.

*******

If his quarters for the night had been too human, the main audience hall was too orcish. Furs painted with tribal symbols hung from the walls of the room, and torches lined every doorway. Jerom could see windows near the ceiling, but they'd been closed for what he assumed were ceremonial reasons, judging from how the gathered crowd was separated into sections on either side of his path. Ahead of him, two iron braziers blazed with fire on either side of Baal-gron, who was seated upon what looked like a throne carved from stone. Unlike the kings and nobles he was used to, however, Jerom noticed the animal skulls and spikes adorning the top above the large orc's head. Even for someone as massive as him, the throne still looked like it could fit more. A definite display of power and authority. Despite the stoic expression on the Chief's face, Jerom thought he noticed a flash of disappointment cross over his eyes before the orc leaned back, resting comfortably as he propped his head up with one arm. Despite the posture, Jerom could feel the power and authority radiating from him. This was definitely not the gentle giant from before. A smaller chair and table had been brought before the throne, toward which Baal-gron gestured. Jerom didn't need to be told twice that this was for him.

"Go ahead, eat," the orc encouraged, though the rich baritone of his voice suggested a seriousness he had not seen before. Jerom couldn't help but feel a pit form in his stomach as he sat down. It was quite comfortable, despite the wooden chair's simple design. Examining his meal, he was surprised to see his favorite breakfast staring back up at him. Granted, bacon and eggs was the favorite of a lot of people, but it was the way it was arranged, and with a pint of ale to the side. Not wanting to provoke the ire of the orc before him, he dug in and took a bite.

"I hope it's to your liking," Baal-gron chimed in. "It's been a while since I've cooked a human meal, but ah... I couldn't get hold of the seasonings, unfortunately."

Jerom nearly choked at that comment, before calming himself down enough to swallow properly. "Y-you made this?"

"Is that so shocking?" the chieftain asked, chuckling as his legs kept shifting from side to side. "Ah, I can't get comfortable like this. I hope this won't ruin your appetite but... Footstool! Come here and serve your Chieftain!"

As he barked out the order, an older but powerfully built orc rushed to the throne before propping himself down on all fours in front of him. Jerom was close enough to see that despite the dumb, happy smile on his face, the eyes were devoid of any sign of intelligence or understanding. He must have had a strange expression on his own face, since Baal-gron chuckled before holding up a hand for him to stay.

"I know. It's strange," said the Chief, propping his legs up on the orc's back. "But let me explain while you eat. This is the former chieftain, the one who came before me. As you can probably see from his tattoos and ritual scarring. Though this particular collar's enchantment is one of my own making, unlike the one on yours."

"What did you do to him?" Jerom asked, still a bit nervous. The collar looked eerily similar to the one wrapped around his own neck, regardless of enchantment.

"I gave him a simple choice, though it's vastly different from the one I'll be giving you soon enough. His choice... well, it was either live as my slave until such a time as I saw fit to release him from service, or die like the bastard he was. He chose the coward's way out, though I must admit it is far more pleasurable for me to have my enemy bow down before me. And you're happy to do it too, aren't you Footstool?"

"Yes, Master! I live to serve!" shouted the older orc with glee. He seemed eager to please, Jerom had to admit. But...

"I'll let him go, one day, and yes he's fully aware of everything that happens. His personality is just locked away inside his own mind while his body does my bidding. But you won't be sharing his fate... unless of course, you really, truly wish for that. But you're not here as a foe, Jerom. So relax."

Jerom let his breath go, not realizing he'd been holding it until now. Taking a few moments to calm himself, he finished his meal before downing some of his ale. It was his favorite, he realized...

"Brendan was here, wasn't he?" asked Jerom. It was too accurate to be a coincidence. "He's the only one who knows this is my favorite ale to have with my breakfast. Or that I like my bacon separated this way... or... or..."

"Yes, he was," Baal-gron admitted, watching Jerom break down into tears over his unfinished meal. He allowed him to settle down before continuing, though his eyes showed an intense sadness as he looked down at the human. "I wish I could say he was still here, unharmed and just the way you remember him, but you know all too well what happens to an infused human when they don't get their elixir in time, Jerom. So, I have a surprise for you..."

Before he allowed him to say anything else, Baal-gron moved his beard to one side, causing Jerom's world to slow to a crawl. Resting on the chieftain's neck was the amethyst encrusted shield Brendan used to wear. The other half to his own sword... Jerom tried to rush him, but found he suddenly couldn't move; the chain collar around his neck had flared to life after sensing his intent. It had bound him to the chair, much like how he'd been bound when he'd first woken up in the encampment.

"Well, that's a minor relief," Baal-gron muttered, though there was pain in his eyes. "It would be shocking you if you were going to hurt me seriously. But... this is hardly fair. I provoked you, wondering how you might react... Garen, if you're still here, would you be so kind as to remove his bindings?"

"A-are you sure, Chief?" a timid voice rang out from the audience.

"Did I stutter? Remove them, now. I won't ask again."

"Yes, Chief!" Garen nearly shouted, rushing to Jerom's side. He already had the control rod in his hand, mumbling something as he charged it with magic. Bringing the glowing piece of metal into contact with one of the links, the chains shrank as they reformed the collar, before the sound of a lock could be heard clicking open. Jerom ripped the chains off his neck, throwing them to the floor as he started advancing upon Baal-gron.

"Peace," the chieftain said, waving off his guards. Despite grudgingly obeying, they watched Jerom like a hawk, ready to pounce if he tried anything. Stopping just before the throne, Jerom glared up at Baal-gron with tearful eyes.

"How dare you take that as your trophy, you ba-"

"Silence!" boomed Baal-gron's voice. He hadn't even shouted, and yet Jerom could feel the command reverberate through him and the entire chamber. "Silence... before you say something we'll both regret, Jerom. I have a story to tell you about your lover. Why I have this necklace around my neck instead of his. So let me tell it before you pass judgment on me. Please."

"I'm... I'm listening," Jerom muttered reluctantly. He wasn't sure what he was feeling right now. Rage, sure. Sadness, definitely. But more than anything he wanted this to not be what it appeared to be. He'd been so kind and gracious to him just the night before, nevermind sparing his life and allowing him to explore their encampment for two whole weeks. "What do you have to say about Brendan? What did you do to him?"

"I didn't kill him, so let's get that out of the way before you twist yourself up into a knot," Baal-gron said, chuckling. His eyes glowed and Jerom heard the scratching of wood on stone, before he was knocked off his feet and into the chair coming up behind him. "Mmm, a bit rougher than I would have liked. But I really need for you to sit down. If after my story you want to yell at me, curse me, pound your fists into my chest, well... I'll allow it. But I want you to sit there and listen right now. Can you do that? If not for me, then for Brendan?"

"...Yes," Jerom sighed. All the fight had gone from him as he leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. He felt grief welling up into tears once again. It was as if he'd lost Brendan all over again, the sorrow wracking his body as he did his best to listen over his quiet sobs.

"A year ago," Baal-gron began, not wasting any more time, "a human, under a compulsion curse to kill every orc in sight, came to this encampment. Instead of killing him outright, like he should have, the 'chieftain' you see under my feet had him captured. He used his magic to place a spell on the human; while it negated the compulsion to kill, it also served to enslave him to his will... but to his surprise, it was only to an extent. The chieftain was impressed with his resistance, and asked him his name, which was Brendan. Brendan hadn't intended to give them any information at all, but you see... that spell, while it hadn't ensnared his mind completely, did force him to obey orders without question. No matter what he truly wanted, or why. It was... extremely vexing, to say the least."

Jerom could almost hear Baal-gron's teeth grinding together, a hard look in his eyes as he seemed to be reliving something. It was a while before he sighed, continuing his story as if nothing had happened.

"One day, this asshole," he said, giving a sharp kick to Footstool's backside, "noticed that in spite of his mental fortitude, Brendan's physical body was starting to waste away. He had never asked him before why the Church had sent him to die, assuming him to be a normal, but cursed, soldier. Instead of giving him a clean death or even offering to spare his life by finding him some elixir, he instead gave him a choice. Serve willingly as an equal among his warriors and be freed of his need for the elixir, or die a horrible, tragic, wasteful death as nothing more than a husk of his former self. While some might view his choice as motivated by cowardice or pride, Brendan had nothing but hatred in his heart for the chieftain. So he chose to become his warrior, albeit temporarily, with the hope of one day having an opportunity to strike him down or leave him for dead... but this was not to be. You see, he soon found out that what the chieftain had offered him was a fair bit more literal than he'd been led to believe."

"What do you mean?" Jerom asked, in spite of himself.

"I mean that this. Bastard. Here!" Baal-gron nearly shouted, digging his heels cruelly into the orc's back as he repeatedly kicked him, "This bastard kept his word, and turned Brendan into one of his loyal, mentally enslaved warriors in the most literal way possible, just like many of the orcs gathered here today! Tell me, Jerom! What do you see when you look to my right or my left here? Whose eyes have you felt watching you, whose voices have you heard all around you as you went about your day? What do you see beneath my feet. Right. HERE!"

"I... I'm not sure what you're getting at, but, um... wait. No... you can't be serious," Jerom said, realization dawning on his face as his jaw dropped. "You said literally, but... there's no way that can be true..."

"Oh, but it IS true!" snarled Baal-gron, violet eyes glowing as his feet cruelly dug into Footstool's back. From the small amount of smoke starting to rise up, Jerom could see he was burning the orc beneath him with some sort of spell.

"Stop that! I don't care if he deserves it or not, just stop it!" Jerom shouted, causing the Chief to snap his eyes closed and sigh with irritation. The spell he'd been channeling stopped before he removed his feet and set them on the floor.

"Have a healer see to him," he ordered, a weary tone in his voice. "Go with the nice guard, Footstool. You're dismissed for the day."

"Yes Master!" the former chieftain shouted, going with one of the guards as he was lead outside the chamber.

"I'm truly sorry you had to see that side of me," Baal-gron apologized, after some time had passed. "But yes, it's true. Brendan was turned into an orc, just like many of those you see gathered before you today. Transformed by HIM. So that's why, when Brendan... no, when I regained my senses, I slowly but methodically began freeing these orcs from their servitude. The chieftain knew ancient magic passed down among his tribe for generations, but he had neither the wisdom nor the patience to master it. I only woke up out of it because he had no idea that infused humans are resistant to having their minds broken down by magic, even if you transform their bodies and souls into that of an orc's. Sure, if you can get them to willingly give in then it becomes much easier, but it will always wear off without constant reinforcement, a fact he was thankfully clueless about... but I will say one good thing about him, however. He kept his word, down to the letter. I haven't needed any elixir since the day I became this. A gift tainted by his corruption and enslavement, but it is a gift nonetheless. Oh, but don't feel too bad for me. I made sure to show him my gratitude for everything he has ever done by enslaving him permanently, and with some of his own methods even. He taught me the rest of what he knew quite willingly after that."

"But that doesn't entirely make sense," Jerom said. He was oddly calm despite everything. "I'd know if you were him. Even if you believe yourself to be him, you're missing one important detail."

"You're talking about the enchantment on our necklaces, yes?" Baal-gron asked, smirking. "Well then, allow me erase your doubts. It's an enchantment of my own making, remember?"

Touching the shield on his neck, the chieftain's eyes briefly glowed before Jerom gasped in shock, his sword necklace flaring to life. It was so hot against his skin that he nearly ripped it off, feeling as if a large heart was pounding against his own. Before the orc could channel more magic to turn off the enchantment once more, Jerom pointed an accusing finger at him and glared.

"Don't you dare!" he shouted, reveling in the intensity, tears streaming down his face. "Don't you dare hide from me again, Brendan! Don't... don't let me feel lonely again... please..."

"I don't use that name anymore. But... it does feel nice to hear you say it, I admit, Jerom. But now you know what happened to me. I'm sorry I had to leave you, and I'm sorry I hid this from you for so long. I was afraid of what the enchantment would do to you by the time I got it back, especially since you believed by then I was most likely dead. I didn't want you to do something foolish like going and getting yourself killed... though seems I failed on that a bit, hm? Church did to you what they did to me. Must have thought it'd be poetic justice, sending you to the same sentence as myself."

"They knew, then?" Jerom asked, bewildered. "We were so careful... and they still knew? About both of us?"

"Of course they knew," sighed Baal-gron. "But I cut them a deal. They'd exile me in exchange for your own life. It's why there was no trial. I simply had to confess to whatever they wanted, though I didn't know about the murder until later, admittedly. Bastards... using me to get rid a rival..."

"I had no idea... Brendan, I..." Jerom said, shaking as he stood. Before he had moved two steps forward, the chieftain's guards cut him off. "Let me through, dammit!"

"Please be patient for a while longer, Jerom. Sit. We have a choice to discuss, remember? More of an offer than a choice, but still."

"...I'd rather hold you, or, be held I guess," Jerom said. "But... okay. I can be patient. I've waited a year, so I can wait a moment or two longer."

"Thank you. Now, let's continue. I'm sure after that little story I just told, you already have at least a small inkling of what I'm going to ask you. But I want you to consider this as if you didn't know who I really was. I want you to choose based on what you've experienced here, on what you personally want and desire for yourself. As if I were some random orc chieftain with a love for flesh and handsome men like yourself. I don't want you to base your decision on who I used to be. Can you do that for me?"

"I'll try," Jerom whispered.

"Good. I promise that no matter what your choice, you will always be able to feel my presence through our bond. So you won't lose me again. Now... Jerom. I've spoken at length with all the orcs you've had encounters with, one at a time. Garen, Marcus, Zro'dun, Karo... even the twins, Sol and Badr. They all told me that while you were here, you conducted yourself honorably, even assimilating somewhat into our culture by engaging in some of our... activities. The twins in particular were rather emphatic about that part and insisted I just convert you here and now. They make for good allies, but those two can get a bit greedy for their own good, at times... heh. I'm glad they didn't do it entirely against your will, even if you had no idea what was going on at first."

"That was a bit of a wild ride, yeah," Jerom admitted, growing hard at the thought before he calmed himself. "But no, they didn't really do anything I wasn't open to already. It just felt... really good to go along with it..."

"Already getting excited, mmm," Baal-gron smirked, leering at him before adopting his serious face once more. Clearing his throat, he continued. "As chieftain of this tribe, I have determined that you would make a wonderful addition to our ranks, and so I will offer you this choice: stay here with us and live as an orc, forever, or leave this place with your humanity intact. This choice is permanent, and you will only be offered it once. There is no shame in either choice, and should you choose to leave, you will be allowed to say farewell to everyone you have come to value in your time here. You won't be allowed to return, however."

"You can turn me into an orc?" Jerom asked. "Just like that?"

"I did say I had that chieftain teach me everything, dum-dum. Of course I learned to do that, as well. In fact, you've already met some of the ones I've transformed. Zro'dun, a mage formerly known as Tobias. Karo Aegis, a former general whose life I once saved."

"Even Marcus?" asked Jerom, prompting Baal-gron to grind his teeth in rage.

"No. That was one HE did. Took a poor shopkeep struggling to survive and fucked his brains out until he couldn't remember anything of human life. Been doing my best to help him, but all he remembers from before is his own name, a few memories, and small bits of his original personality. He's told me it's fine, though, that he's happy as an orc. Not nearly as stupid as he was before, either. Bastard kept him as some combination of dumb brute and sex slave... but... let's not dwell on what was, and focus on what is. I'll give you an hour to think about it. Oh, and I'll know if you're choosing only for my sake and not yours. This is a choice you will live with for the rest of your life, so think hard about what it is that you truly want."

Jerom sat down, sighing heavily. He knew what he wanted to do, but he did what he'd been asked. Thinking on his experiences, he was shocked to find he still had some doubts. It was one thing when he'd thought about staying as a human... but an orc? Would he change drastically from who he was now? Would he end up like Marcus if it somehow went wrong? The thought of losing himself entirely terrified him...but then he remembered Zro'dun. No wonder he'd had human clothing in that travel pack. He used to be one, but his intellect and personality were still intact... putting his fears aside, he focused on the positives. The closeness he'd felt, the understanding, even a bit of renewed love. The discipline and brotherhood he'd experienced under Karo's command. The tenderness of Baal-gron, before he'd known who he had been.

"I think you already know what I've decided," Jerom spoke aloud, smiling up at Baal-gron.

"You have an hour, Jerom. It's only been half that, maybe. I said not to-"

"I'm not doing it for you... well, not just you," Jerom interrupted. "I'd already been thinking of staying anyway, before all this. What have I got to go back to anyway, the fucking Church that tried to kill me? The people who ostracized and separated us? No. I'm not going back. I don't care if I end up some dumb brute or what, just turn me into an orc! I choose to stay and live my life with the rest of you, AS one of you!"

The whole chamber erupted into cheering of all kinds, from heavy applause to hoots and hollers. As news spread through the building and out into the camp, they could hear a great crowd begin cheering from outside. Had everyone been waiting for this?

"You're getting off on the idea, aren't you Jerom?" teased Baal-gron, after the cheering died down in the chamber from those present.

"So what if I am, 'chief'?" asked Jerom, aware of where Baal-gron's eyes were looking "I've made my choice."

Leaning forward in his throne, Baal-gron stared into Jerom's eyes, as if examining the weight of his own soul. Apparently liking what he saw, the chieftain smiled and motioned for his guards to step back as he rose to his feet and embraced him. Jerom had almost forgotten how large he was compared to the memory of how tall Brendan had been, but he returned the gesture, leaning in to his warm body.

"So you have," Baal-gron said, smiling down at him. "You should go ahead and get naked, then..."

"But..." Jerom blushed, misunderstanding what the chieftain was saying. "Right now?

"Unless you want to rip off those clothes during your transformation. But something tells me Zro'dun might get mad at you if you did that, even if he'd never admit it would be highly arousing to think about. Go wait in the guest quarters for now, Jerom. I have a ritual to prepare for you, so I'll send for you when we're ready to proceed."

"Oh. Right. I thought you meant..."

"That will come later, love. Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves, hm?"

*******

Jerom sighed with relief as the sword and shield merged.

"I mean, I already knew after what you had me feel," he said, "but this just proves it even more. Besides, I never get tired of seeing that happen again and again. It's my favorite thing about our necklaces, besides feeling your heart next to mine."

"My fingers are a lot larger this time, however," Baal-gron growled, showing some difficulty as he separated the trinkets again and gave Jerom back the sword half. "Might have to do something about the size of these... but that will have to wait until later, love. Stand in the center here, and don't move unless instructed to do so. This spell is rather finicky if you don't do exactly what you're supposed to do."

"What will happen if..."

"I mess up? I won't. Trust me on that."

"I do," Jerom sighed, leaning into Baal-gron's hand as he brushed his cheek. "I'm just nervous is all. It's kind of a big step."

"And one you're taking willingly," the chieftain remarked, taking his place outside the magic circle. He was careful not to disturb any of the runes or seals outlined on the ground on his way, showing a level of dexterity and grace Jerom wasn't sure that he himself had. Even as an orc, Brendan was still Brendan. The two of them were alone, save for a couple of attendants. It was not something for the public eye, especially since it would require everyone's absolute concentration.

"Before we begin, Jerom, are you sure you wish to go through with this?"

"I am. You keep asking me that, and I keep saying I am. You're going to wear me out before we even get started here."

"Just making sure. Do you have any questions for me about any of this?"

"Yeah," Jerom chuckled, standing stark naked before them. "What's taking you so long?"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Baal-gron chuckled. "But... let's focus, now. Stay silent for a bit, Jerom. This requires more of my power than you may realize. A great deal more..."

Jerom wanted to ask how much, but he did as he was told as Baal-gron brought his hands together, bowing his head as he began chanting... something. Jerom couldn't understand a word of it, but seeing as it was an orcish ritual, it made sense it would be in its native tongue instead of his own. He looked around the chamber a bit but otherwise didn't move; it was the same chamber as before, but they'd removed all the furnishings and turned out most of the lights, save for the braziers. Somehow they'd even produced a third one, and all three surrounded the circle in such a way as to be equal distances from each other. As soon as the chanting began increasing in frequency, the flames roared with renewed life and ferocity as they began emitting a vibrant, violet light. Only then did Jerom look back toward Baal-gron, nearly jumping out of his skin at the sight.

Baal-gron's eyes were a solid violet, glowing brighter than the fires, and he was holding his hands out toward the circle. Light that appeared as liquid dripped down from his hands and onto the lines of the circle, flaring to life as the energy spread throughout the entire pattern. He had trouble trying to follow it with his eyes as it rushed toward him, spiraling ever closer to the center until...

"GRAGGHH" Jerom cried out in pain, feeling some strange power reaching inside him and pulling him out from his body. He looked down in horror as he fought the urge to struggle, even as he laid eyes on what had grabbed him. Their shifting forms made it impossible to determine their origin, but long, unnatural-looking arms held him from all angles above his body, doing something to him. It didn't feel unpleasant, even if the shadowy limbs were a bit off-putting as they caressed every inch of him. Instead of a physical sensation, however, it felt as if someone or something were whispering things to his soul that he couldn't quite grasp... and with a shock he found his soul form answering almost of its own volition. It didn't feel as if some unknown force was controlling him, but rather that some part of him, hidden until now, had opened up and began to spill all his secrets to whoever was doing the asking. Through it all, he was vaguely aware of his soul changing shape with every answer. It didn't hurt, but he felt like clay...

"...Reshape this mortal and accept him as you would one of your own, oh lord!" he heard Baal-gron shouting as the hands twisted his ears, somehow allowing him to understand the orcish being spoken. "Grant him strength beyond measure! Wisdom beyond his years! Draw his soul closer to the source of all things, that he might understand the truth and power of the cosmos! Cast off his weaker shell, that he might be reborn in the visage of your glory, now and forever! So let it be done!"

As the hands finished whatever it was they were doing to him, all the fear he had been feeling suddenly melted away as something shifted. He was only vaguely aware of the room around his body, but as he looked outward he could sense something... more. It wasn't a god, or a demon, but... he felt a connection he had never known before, even with his attempts at magic. He felt as if he was being presented with some sort of final choice, but he laughed. He'd already made it, hadn't he? As if sensing his determination, whatever force had snared him up out of his body turned soft, reassuring him and... welcoming him to something as he was pushed back down into his body, now too small for his soul. Blinking, he opened his eyes and looked down at his still human body. With a cry of exhaustion, Baal-gron fell to one knee, breathing heavily as he looked over at Jerom.

"Did it..." he began, but Jerom simply nodded, eagerly waiting for what was about to happen.

"I... rraaAAGH!" Jerom shouted, his voice dropping lower as he screamed in pain. Yet, instead of the intense torture he had expected it to feel like, it felt more like he had tried to put something on that was far too tight for him and it was getting tighter. If only he could just rip it off, then...

"Don't worry about the pain! Fight through it!" shouted Baal-gron. "You've already made it past the most difficult part! Now throw off that pathetic frame and embrace what you REALLY are!"

"Damn straight I will!" Jerom shouted, suddenly feeling energized as he flexed, his skin splitting open in places as green flesh revealed itself from underneath. His tusks were growing in more, thickening and lengthening from what he assumed had been his bottom two canines. Pain gave way to pleasure as his muscles thickened and flexed, causing the changing orc to moan in pleasure even as he began growing taller and wider.

"More! I SAID MORE, DAMMIT!" he shouted, helping his body catch up to his soul as he tore off the shreds of his former self, watching it all turn to ash as it fell away from him piece by piece. Snapping his emerald eyes open, they glowed with power as his magic was restored to him nearly tenfold, breaking through the weak bindings of the human oaths his former body had been subjected to. Laughing, he snapped his fingers and green flames leapt up and out from his body, consuming the old and helping the new to grow in more and more as the pleasant warmth radiated out from him. He could feel his chest expanding, his shoulders broadening as he doubled in size. Even his ass jutted out more as his thighs thickened, causing the calves and feet to follow suit shortly after. Wrapping a meaty hand around his growing shaft, he began pleasing himself as his beard grew down to his chest, the chestnut brown lightening until it was just shy of dirty blonde. With some invisible force still at play, the longer beard stretched out and began braiding itself while more hair sprouted down his neck and chest, eventually snaking itself to connect to his treasure trail. Even though he was almost finished, he could still feel his muscles continue to swell and expand, prompting him to pump his bicep in front of his face as he began emanating a musky, earthy odor similar to the other orcs he'd been with, though slightly more alluring. When he finally felt he could grow no more, he felt something metal attach to the end of his beard, keeping the braid in place without weighing him down.

"I... am... JAVOK!" he shouted, cumming from the overwhelming pleasure he felt at casting off his human name and identity. Falling to his knees, he moaned in pleasure as his cock kept pumping out more and more of his old life, or so it felt to him. Any and all allegiances he might have felt still towards the Church and his paladinhood were gone, along with any longing to remain human. Why would he want to be human? He was an orc! This was what he'd always wanted!

"How do you feel?" he heard Baal-gron say. Focusing on calming himself, Javok smiled as he felt the warm, familiar heartbeat through his necklace, it intensity finally matching his own. Rising to his feet, he realized he was only a few inches shorter before he embraced him.

"I feel great, Chief," he moaned. "That was bloody amazing."

"Tiring, though," Baal-gron said, stumbling a bit. Javok caught and steadied him, glaring at the nearby attendants. Understanding the message, they rushed to help their chieftain reach his throne. It was the only piece of furniture that couldn't be moved, being cut from the same stone as the floor. Apparently construction had been being built around the original site. Making sure Baal-gron was okay, he smiled while he ran his hands over his new flesh.

"Glad it didn't get rid of my scars," Javok mused. While they were still scars, they still felt like the rest of his flesh did. "Though I have a few more spots to add onto, now I'm so big."

"Hopefully not on purpose," chucked Baal-gron, to which Javok shook his head.

"Beard grew out, but my hair's still short from this mornin'. Also I feel really different, now. Lighter'n'air. Can't fathom it."

"Reminds me of when I changed," Baal-gron said, pulling the new orc closer. Javok smiled as he climbed on top, their cocks hard as they throbbed against one another.

"Oh?"

"My... transition wasn't as pleasant. But for a moment after, I felt so free and uninhibited. Like a great weight had been crushing me all these years. I felt truly at peace with who I was for the very first time. Then that bastard ruined it by enslaving me, but well..."

"Where IS that fucker?!" Javok nearly shouted, turning his head in rage before Baal-gron brought his hand up to his cheek. Calming down, Javok leaned in closer to his lover's face.

"Forget him, what about me?" Baal-gron asked, his seductive voice turning Javok on with every word he spoke.. "Are you going to leave your chieftain all pent up after that sexy display of yours?"

"Hah, 'course not Chief. But well... I'm still Jerom, aren't I? Deep down? I just feel different. Good, but very different."

"You're who you want to be, but yes. The core of what made you Jerom is still intact. You're not suddenly a brainwashed disciple of my ever-growing harem, as hot as that idea is..."

"Ahh, I see Chief," Javok said, nodding in satisfaction. "Gods I feel good. Fuck the Church. Real soul killer, makin' me be what I never wanted to be. Fuck 'em all."

"You don't have to call me chief, you know," Baal-gron said, playing with Javok's beard buckle. It depicted an emerald sword on it, the tip of the blade facing upward as if ready for war.

"I know, Chief. Just want to. Makes me feel good to do it, so I'm choosin' to do it. Unless you'd really like me to stop, yeah?"

"What I want is for you to stop teasing me and allow me have my way with you," Baal-gron growled, desire heavy in his voice as he grasped Javok's ass and lifted him above his large shaft, threatening to split him open.

"Sure thing, Chief. Just one final touch."

"And what's that, my sexy little orc?"

With a mischievous smile, Javok's eyes glowed green before Baal-gron gasped, a warm, pleasurable tingling surrounding his shaft.

"What did you d- oooOOHHH..." moaned Baal-gron, as Javok impaled himself with ease down to the base of the chieftain's shaft, almost as if he was made for his sole pleasure. Which, for the moment, was his entirely the case as he began bouncing up and down.

"Mmm, how'd you learn... ooh... to do that?"

"Shut up and fuck me already, Chief! I got a whole life of fucking to catch up on, and you owe me for all of last year for makin' me think you was dead!"

"Mmm you'll pay for that insolence later," Baal-gron laughed, settling into the rhythm and pacing Javok had set for himself. "But I am loving this slick ass of yours... what lube did you magic onto us?"

"Dunno. Ask those sexy twins sometime. Now less talking. More. FUCKING."

"Greedy beast," Baal-gron laughed, before pulling a bit more roughly on Javok's beard to bring his face closer to his. "I love you, Jerom."

"I love you too, Brendan," Javok replied, before locking lips with the chieftain. As their pacing grew faster and faster, the bigger orc moaned, enjoying every second of Javok fucking himself on his shaft while the two forgotten attendants watched them with growing arousal. He could get used to this... especially with the feeling of their hearts beating in unison through their necklace pieces. Baal-gron was so happy that his lover had kept his promise to cherish it, always.

*******

After about what seemed the tenth time going at it, Javok finally seemed to be coming to his senses, even as he kept slowly fucking himself on Baal'gron. They'd had the Hall mostly to themselves, what with most of the orcs having cleared out for the ritual. Eventually they'd found themselves in the chieftain's bedchambers. It seemed almost as large as the audience chamber itself, though instead of a throne there was a very large bed in the center. All around lay candles that never seemed to burn out, and a fireplace crackled nearby with a mix of violet and emerald flames. It had been normal until a particularly intense moment, where both of them had tried to light it at once. The result had been so amusing that they had decided to keep it.

"How are you feeling, love?"

"Less needy, I guess," Javok replied. "Dunno why I'm so needy right now. Still feel like I could keep going too, if I weren't so damn tired now. It's like that potion Zro'dun makes. Still can't believe he was a human... no, that's a lie. I can believe it."

"I'm more surprised you have this level of raw magic in you," Baal-gron said, getting a smirk from Javok. "Not a lot of orcs have that after they transform. Imagine how much power you might have had if you'd been infused... actually, that's a bit terrifying to think about."

"I'm not as strong as you, but yeah. I know what you mean. They weren't kiddin' when they said our souls were closer to the source a fair bit more than humans. Still not entirely sure what EXACTLY all that means but that's why I'm gonna let you be the brains as far as magic theory goes. All I really know is I'm able to do things I couldn't before with magic. I really like it, even if the details hurt my head a bit..."

"You really hate thinking too much? Why's that, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Do you remember how much time I'd spend inside my head as a worrywart human? Told ya! I'm done with all that! Though... it's not like I can't do it. Especially if it means talkin' with you about more stuff, Chief."

"Then go ahead and tell me something, Javok. Do you understand a bit more what happened to you?"

"A little. Obviously I feel like a new person. Part of that was because I shed negative human parts from m'self. The ones I didn't want. Figured I'd feel emptier but nah. I'm better than I was. Don't feel like a Jerom though..."

"Well, you replaced them with things you wanted," Baal-gron explained, kissing Javok on the neck. "And that feeds directly into giving yourself a new name and identity, for the most part."

"Oohhh?" Javok moaned, leaning back into Baal-gron's embrace. "How's that?"

"Well, it's different for everyone, but for me I replaced most of my religious and sexual inhibitions with dominance and understanding. I didn't want to be like the old chieftain, but I needed to take charge. And well, the idea had turned me on for a while, well before that nasty exile business. Even when I'm dominating an enemy, I usually listen to their desires and play to them, if I can. Why kill someone who willingly gives in to my demands?"

"You were always a demanding bottom, you know. For a human."

"Exactly. Seems our roles are reversed, now. I can't see myself being in your position too often these days."

"Same here. How's all of that stuff apply to me though? I don't really get all of it. Not completely."

"Hm... well, hard to say for certain, but... you're much more prone to being simple-minded and focused on sex. I don't know if you've had the chance to be with Marcus that way, but he's very similar in that aspect. He just also knows how to be compassionate and show restraint, now that he's in control of himself. Very protective of people he likes, too, so be sure you have him introduce you to all his friends. More than a few are his partners, too, if I'm remembering correctly."

"Like he said, Chief. Orcs are great lovers. Although he is sweet on me, I know. Stands to reason I'd like to keep that with me."

"Well part of that's you, too. You were so miserable and pent up your whole life that you've turned yourself into something far more free and hedonistic. As for the other things, your musk is very intoxicating, but not so much that it's completely overpowering, and you have stamina you didn't have before. Part of that's the twins, I bet, but much of that's gotta be Zro'dun's potions effects persisting with the transformation. That is practically liquid magic, you know, so it makes sense the effects that were still active persisted... ah, I'm losing you."

"Sorry, Chief," Javok said, sighing. "But I think I sorta get it. Must be why I'm so submissive to you, then. I mean, most of that was Jerom, but the Warmaster made me more aware of it. Made me crave him dominating me, but like... not in a bad way? I have trouble thinking so much because of the twins though. Showed me how much I enjoyed just being a mindless beast. I'm not that upset about it, since deep down I wanted it, but it's gonna make understandin' shit harder. Mostly because I don't want to. I wonder if they'd want to penetrate me again..."

"Well, just let me take care of the understanding, for the most part. You're not dumb, you know. Just distracted by your libido and need to please. Reminds me of Garen when he's horny. But is this making sense, so far?"

"Yep! Sounds about right, Chief!"

"Better be right. You're still going at it even though you're tired. Must feel very good though, hm?"

"Just love riding your cock, Chief. But... not as much as I love you. I really, really missed you, ya know? And that's not the horny part of me talkin'. Everything fell apart for me when I thought you'd died. I wanted to die. I love you so much."

"I know. But how about we go say hello to everyone, hm? They've been waiting for hours to see your newer, sexier self."

"Didn't those other two tell them, or are they still going at it? Ah, but it's not right to make 'em wait, yer right. Should I wear somethin'?"

"A loincloth, if you want. No one will judge you here if you don't, though. Just don't strut around naked on the battlefield if we have to fight, someday."

"Nah, that'd be dumb. Gonna need new armor, though. Somethin' scary so's they give up without a fight if possible. Gonna have to teach me how to do that right hook you got though, Chief."

"I'd hoped you'd forgotten about that," Baal-gron replied, grinning sheepishly. "I was right though. You're feisty."

"Oh! Where IS my axe? I need to see how strong I am now!" Javok excitedly said, slipping off of Baal-gron's member with ease as he looked around the room. Recovering from the sudden stimulation, the chieftain pointed down.

"Under the bed, hon, as always. Just like when we'd sleep together in my room when we were still human."

"Yeah it's right here!" Javok shouted triumphantly, pulling it out with one arm easily. "Oh, it's a lot lighter than I remember. Might have to make it bigger, heavier... mmm..."

"Javok, love. It's a weapon shaft, not an orc shaft. Please tell me you're not getting off on the idea of fucking your battleaxe..."

"It was a joke, love, don't worry so much," laughed Javok, letting the weapon rest at his side as he sat on the bed's edge. "Even if it was hot imagining you pinning me to the bed and having your way with me just now. But yeah, let's go and meet everyo-"

The battleaxe clattered to the floor as Javok was pulled back onto the bed and pinned face down by Baal-gron, who was already starting to slide his member up and down his glistening crack in anticipation.

"Maybe a bit later..." Baal-gron growled as he plunged right in, causing Javok to moan in ecstasy. "I need you more right now."

"Yes, Chief!"