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Jack looked much more settled when he came back before dawn, and the first thing he did was to unchain me, and run a hand around my neck and wrists. "Interesting," was all he said.

I didn't say anything.

"Very interesting," Jack said, a moment later. "Do you think Darz will protect you?"

"No," I said. Of course she wouldn't.

Jack stood there for a moment, slapped one of the chains back on, and walked out.

I didn't think he'd be gone long, and I was right; the candle hadn't lost more than a quarter inch before Jack came wandering back in, slower and more thoughtful than when he'd left. "I really don't know what she sees in you," Jack said. "Her business, I suppose."

"And mine," I said.

Jack's eyes widened slightly, but I'd expected him to say something ... well, something that would explode my show of bravado. Instead, all he said was, "I hadn't thought of it that way," in a low sort of growl.

The voice sent a shiver down me.

"I'd planned to fuck you last night," Jack continued, "but ... events intervened." He smiled lazily at me. "So I thought I'd ask you ... do you want to be fucked right now?"

"No," I said. Yes, I thought, but I wasn't going to admit it.

Jack grinned like he'd heard the real answer regardless of what I'd said. "I was hoping you'd say that."

He was hoping ... oh, that sounded bad. "Why?" I asked, warily.

Jack just smiled, a long, lazy grin that said I'd just played directly into his hands, regardless of what I thought I'd done. He walked, in a long slow meandering way, over to where I was chained, and crouched down. His hand moved to my stomach, and then down ... down to my maleness.

What was left of it. His hand closed easily around my shaft. I'd realized I was getting smaller, but ... but ... not ... not so much. My balls had pulled up to my body, and were, well, pulling apart, I guess, and Jack's finger lightly stroked the forming cleft that went all the way up to the ... the thin stub that remained.

Even that light touch sent a wave of warm tightness through me, and I gasped in surprise.

"Sweet," Jack said, although I had no idea what he meant by it.

His grip got just a little harder, and the feeling got more intense. Much more; like I was hard and aching for release, except ... except it wasn't my dick that felt that way, but something inside me, something lower, and then Jack pressed his finger down hard on the cleft forming between my balls, and it was like he'd just grabbed the head of my dick in oiled silk only ... only I was the oiled silk, and it felt ... better. Much better than that.

It felt like oiled silk, I realized, because it was oiled. No, not oiled ... but slippery. I was wet, sopping wet, like ...

Like a sow.

The realization made me pull back, and Jack just laughed. He wiped his hand over my face, wetting me with something between the clear salty prefuck dickslime and the muskier sweat-sweet smell of a sow. And then, more deliberately, he wiped his hand off on my chest.

Still a boar's chest. When had Timdon's teats started growing?

And then, with that amazing warm tightness still unsatisfied between my legs, he chained my arms to the wall, as well. No!

"I think that's enough for now," Jack whispered to me. "Unless you've changed your mind about," and here his voice dropped down into a low growl that made that unfamiliar sensation pulse inside me, "being fucked."

Somehow I managed to say, "No."

"Good," said Jack, with that same lazy grin, and it faded, as another thought came to him. "Huh. Yes. Oh, perfect."

The first half of perfect turned out to be Jack wetting down a rag with my ... my ... juices, I suppose ... and gagging me with the rag. The second half was his bringing in a young sow, from his harem, I guess, and spending half the night fucking her while she squealed with pleasure. Thanks to the gag all I could taste was sex. All I could smell was sex. The scent of sex was overpowering. I was left hanging from the wall, almost doubled over with the need to ... to ... to fuck? To be fucked? Listening to Jack do to her what I wanted to do was excruciating.

Listening to Jack do to her what I wanted him to do to me was torture. That it wasn't happening. That I wanted it to happen, and that it was all I could think about while Jack was mounting her. Even after Jack had finished, leaving her exhausted and motionless, Jack had glanced over to me.

Smiled. Turned away, and put a possessive hand over the sow, and, some time later, relaxed into sleep. I spent the night unfulfilled, aching with these new strange sensations, staring at Jack, and knowing, somehow, if I'd just said yes the events of the night would have been different.

I told myself that different wasn't the same thing as better.

I thought I was ready for the next night, but I was wrong.

The day was hard enough, all along, chained immobile to the wall. Grimn fed me, but Jack must have put the fear of ... well, Jack, into him, because that's all he did. He didn't say anything, he didn't touch me, he actually stayed as far away from me as he could, even when he changed the bucket. That kind of surprised me. I wondered what Jack had threatened Grimn with; it must have something really visceral and terrible to give an orc that sort of fear. It had to be immediate, too, or else ... and then I realized exactly what Jack had used as a threat. Me. If Grimn did anything Jack didn't want, he'd end up right next to me. Yeah, that would work. Hell, it would have worked on me.

I didn't want to think about that.

Jack returned late that night; it must have been near morning or even after dawn. He didn't say anything, he just walked over, and brushed his hand over my face. I couldn't help it. It was a like a spasm that ran through me, leaving me hot. My flesh tingled at the touch, but somehow I managed to retain enough concentration to pull away - or at least to try to; the chains I was in didn't give me much room. "Like that?

"No!" I lied.

"Liar," Jack said, sounding amused, and his hand trailed down, circling a teat, and the skin tightened around it.

It felt hot and tight and ... I wasn't sure how it felt but my body wanted more. I moved toward it, and then caught myself, jerking back. "Get away from me."

His hand drifted, tantalizing, down, across the smooth skin of my belly. I could feel his hand, rough against the skin, and it reacted to him. I could feel ... I wasn't sure. Things I hadn't felt before; things that must be part of the change. A tightness, like ... like ... like I was getting hard, ready, only the hardness was inside me.

I gasped; it just happened, and I could feel warmth, wetness between my legs, as ... as ... it felt like my balls were trying to draw up and out even though that wasn't what was happening, that my cock was stiffening, only inside me, in a way that left me panting and wanting ... wanting ...

I forced myself to think of something else. Anything. Rocks. Hard rocks. Hard ... no. Trees. No. A creek, water flowing ... flowing ... no! I heard a low whimpering as Jack's hand slid lower, tracing the line between my legs with slippery wetness, and then slipping into me, one, two,

Why did it feel so good!

Jack's voice slipped over me like an ominous growl of distant thunder. "I've been enjoying this, watching you," he said. "Knowing what was happening, watching you fight it - and lose. Not an orcish pleasure, anticipation, but it certainly is a human one." His hand moved deeper into me, and I fought it.

I wanted to fight it.

I didn't want to fight it.

"This," he said, moving his fingers just a fraction - caressing me, touching inside me ... I heard his words as he kept speaking, but it took a moment for me to understand them, "is an orcish pleasure." He leaned closer to me. "I enjoy those, too."

I was panting. I wanted ... I wanted him, I wanted him to fuck me, and at the same time I didn't. If he did, I would be ... I would be ... Could he? Oh he could, he was hard as any orc, hard as I'd ever been, and I knew what he was going to do.

I couldn't stop him, and I knew, I knew exactly, just how much better that was going to make it for him, that I couldn't stop him, that all I could do was wait for him to do it. What did he call it? Anticipation? It didn't feel good to me, at all, especially when what I wanted was just to stretch out, offer myself ...

That's what he was anticipating, I realized. That I would be so hot, so needy, I would need to be fucked so hard, that I would ask ...

No.

I would beg him to fuck me. Like a sow.

Because he'd made me a sow. Body and now ... the thought vanished as his fingers played inside me, teasing me, and I couldn't help gasping with the sensation. Like a sow. Why couldn't that thought vanish, if was getting so hard to think? Why ...

"Fuck me!" Since it sounded like my voice, I guess I said it.

"Oh, yes," Jack said, and a moment later he was inside me. It felt like ... like ... like being fucked in the ass, and fucking, all at the same time, and it felt ... it felt ... it should have felt, but ... it was wonderful, like my entire body was on fire, starting at my ... my ... at what had been my cock. But wasn't, not anymore. I moved up, pushing against Jack, pulling him deeper into me, without even thinking about it, without hesitation. If I'd stopped to think, I ... ah, no, I would have done the exact same thing, it was so good.

He lifted me up, and just kept fucking me, and he threw us down on the bed, him on top, me on the bottom, and he continued, until I was yelling, howling, I could hear myself begging him to be harder, to be faster, for more ... and he did, each time I asked, until the climax hit me like ... I remember it, but it seems impossible. Like it lasted for hours, but only minutes. Or vice-versa. I think Jack came twice.

I didn't want to be a sow! No matter how good it felt ... and I fell asleep, Jack still in me, thinking about that.

When I woke up, I was chained up to the wall again, and my ... I hurt. My legs hurt, my belly hurt, and my ... I hurt. Whoever had chained me up left me a blanket, though, and I wondered if that had been Jack or Grimn.

Grimn came by later, with a bowl of stew, and told me it was just a few hours after dark. Jack was out doing ... whatever the hell Jack did. I ate it without tasting it. Small flashes of what Jack did - what I had done - kept coming back to me. And I kept hearing myself asking for it. "Harder!" "Please!" "Fuck me!"

He'd taken me like a sow.

Because I was a sow.

I set the bowl aside, and tried not to think about it. I was still not thinking about it when Grimn came in, took the bowl, and then ripped the blanked off and leered at me. If I hadn't been chained up I'd have killed him.

But I was chained up, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. He reached down, grabbed my hair, pulled my head to his loincloth, and rubbed my face against his shaft. And then, with a laugh, he walked out. "See you dawnside," he said, and then he leaned in and whispered, "Jack says you're a good ride."

I tried to get some sleep, but I kept hearing Grimn walking in. He wasn't there, but I heard it anyway, and it kept me jerking me out of whatever sleep I started to get. Finally, I did hear footsteps for real - and it was Jack, looking angry, well, angrier than usual. I felt a moment of relief that it wasn't Grimn, and then realized just how stupid that was. Jack was ten, a hundred, a thousand times worse that Grimn could dream of being. It wasn't Grimn I should be afraid of. It was Jack.

He didn't say anything, he just pulled that huge leather-bound book out of a trunk followed by the rock, and rubbed the rock until the light came on so he could read. He looked me over before he started, so he wasn't ignoring me, I just wasn't, well, his focus. After a page or two, he looked up, reached for a waterskin, and tossed it to me.

It held watered-down sour wine, and tasted much better than it sounded. I drank most of it before I finally asked, "What are you reading?"

"Something I got from Darz," he said after a moment, and then something seemed to catch his attention. Jack turned to me, and his eyes narrowed. "Can you read?"

"No," I said, disgusted. Why would a warrior need to read?

"Oh," said Jack distantly, "it does come in handy, from time to time."

"Like that?" I asked.

"I suppose," Jack said. "It's a book about magic things."

"What sort of things?"

"No," said Jack. "Not about magic things, on what comprises a stable magic device - like a sword, or armor, or a ring, or a stone ... magic. Magic as applied to things. How to make magic things."

How to ... "Darz can make magic swords?" I asked, finally interested.

"Yes," said Jack.

"Did Darz make you a magic sword?"

Jack coughed. "No. I already had one." And then he grinned, and tapped his crotch. "All a male really needs is this one here."

Which I didn't have any more. Bastard. "So that book tells you how to make magic swords?"

"No," Jack said, shaking his head. "It's discussing more general sorts of magic things. Like, ah ..." he reached over and tapped the light. "Like this."

"Oh," I said. That wasn't really the same. Jack laughed, and I knew he was laughing at me. "What's so funny?"

Jack shook his head. "You, mostly. All this magic stuff is connected. So making a light-stone helps make a magic sword. Indirectly, like learning how to use a club makes you better with a sword. So, if you're interested in an enchanted sword -"

"Of course!" I said.

"- then this," and Jack tapped the book, "should be interesting, too."

That was just stupid. "I don't want to make a magic sword," I said, "I want a magic sword."

Whatever Jack had been about to say, he didn't. He just stared at me for a moment, lifted a finger and started to say something different, and then he just closed his mouth, dropped his finger and nodded. "Point and match," he said. "You win."

What? I was confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you win," Jack said. "I was wrong. You are right."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah," said Jack.

"I win," I said, testing the phrase.

"Yeah," said Jack again. "I'm still going to fuck your brains out tonight, but as for this discussion - you won."

I won but ... oh. "But it doesn't do me any good," I said, finally understanding.

Jack smiled then, a grin filled with teeth and tusk. "You are on a roll tonight." And then he crouched down to where I was chained. "Besides, you seem to like it well enough once I get started." I started to respond, and then stopped. I could deny it, which would be useless, or I could admit it, and I didn't really see any advantage there, either. Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck! And it really didn't help that I was getting wet just thinking about it. I mean, if I had a choice, I'd tell Jack to go fuck himself. Only ... and I tried not to squirm, all I could think about was him fucking me. Hard. How good it would feel to have him inside me, to have him force me down, how ...

Fuck. It was already too late. I didn't say anything while Jack kept reading his book, or anything when he pulled me up and onto the bed, and I even tried to fight him, at first. I tried to ignore that amazing feeling of hardness slipping into me, the delicious warmth as Jack moved into me. It didn't work any more than it ever had; with a humiliatingly few thrusts I was begging him to take me. Fuck me. Harder, more, anything, it was like ... I was screaming out for him.

That night was the first night Jack let Grimn watch as he fucked me, staring at me, rubbing himself and staring at me hungrily as Jack pounded me. It wasn't a look I liked, particularly, but there wasn't much I could do about it, either. Grimn didn't say anything the next day, though, dumping my food in front of me, taking the bucket and bringing it back. I didn't like the way he looked at me, though, grinning and rubbing his crotch. Although ...

I'd been with Jack longer than he had. I didn't know what Jack was planning, but I took a grim comfort in knowing that Grimn was going to wish ... he'd run. And that left me with a dilemma. Warn Grimn, and antagonize Jack? Or don't warn him, and miss a chance for some payback?

Fuck Jack.

"Grimn," I said quietly. "Take your things and run. Jack's going to kill you, or worse." Worse, actually, was my bet. Killing just seemed too ... simple. No, not simple, boring. Jack liked to destroy his targets. I wasn't sure if he'd take me seriously, but I wasn't expecting him to laugh at me, and tell me he'd have me when Jack was finished with me. In your dreams. Dreams, hah! Nightmares. Well, fuck them both.

If only I could.

The next week or so offered no opportunities, although Darz came by to see me twice. She didn't say anything, and maybe she wasn't even here for me, but Grimn kept watching me, as he I were some treat, and he was hungry. Which, although I tried not to think of it that way, was exactly right. Jack hadn't offered him the run of his sowery - I'd never taken one, and then he'd given me the human. Timdon. Heh. That had been fun. If it hadn't led to this, of course.

Jack wasn't helpful. All he did, morning after morning, was read his stupid book and then fuck me. He didn't even talk to me, beyond asking if Grimn was bringing me food and water, but he didn't care when I didn't answer him. He did give me a longer chain, so he didn't have to unchain me to fuck me. He looped the excess chain off, though, so I still couldn't move very far.

Far enough to get his book, though. I'd never actually looked at one, and, I have to admit, I was more than a little bored. I opened the buckles, and lifted the book out of the straps. It was surprisingly heavy, and the covers, which I had thought were leather, were actually leather wrapped around something with absolutely no give at all, maybe slices of stone. The pages were mottled parchment, and it had a strong, almost fiery smell that stuck to my fingers, like some kind of oil. It was filled with close, tiny writing that surrounded the diagrams - lines and whirls and sigils, unlike any letters I'd ever seen.

I hadn't expected clear and easy to follow pictures, so at least I wasn't disappointed in that, but still ... for something that absorbed Jack's attention, every morning and far into the day, I guess I was expecting ... I don't know. I studied it a little more, looked at the cut-marks on the parchment, where it had been separated after larger sheets had been folded, and, I guess, sewn or glued or riveted to the spine - I couldn't tell without taking the book apart and although I could have done that, I didn't want Darz angry.

I didn't care so much about Jack, and I knew that was reckless, and I still didn't care. What the fuck more could he do to me? Somewhere I knew the answer was probably quite a bit, but ... I just didn't care anymore. So I kept looking through the book, looking at the diagrams. Once or twice there was something I recognized, or at least I thought I did. But I didn't feel that I knew anything more than I did before, so I closed the book, put it into the straps, and rebuckled them.

"That's odd," Darz said, and I jumped up in surprise to find the gnoll sitting on the bed, watching me curiously. "May I?" She held out a hand for the resealed book, and I gave it to her. It was hers, after all.

She hefted it, and inspected the buckles carefully. "Did Jack leave these straps open?"

"No," I said.

"He couldn't have, now that I think about it. Then how did you open them?"

"They're just buckles," I said.

"They are magically sealed," said Darz. "Without knowing a passphrase, they should not open." She fixed me with a puzzled stare, and handed the book back to me. "Try opening it now."

I opened one buckle, and she simply looked more surprised. "That's not right," she said, taking the book back, and examined it again. "What has Jack done to this?" She fumbled with the buckle, trying to refasten it, and it wouldn't close. "Huh. Close this, please."

"Jack hasn't done anything," I said as I refasted the buckle for her. "He just opens it, reads, and closes it."

"Why did you open it?" she asked.

"Bored," I said.

"Bored ..." she said, and looked around the room. "Yes. I see that. Was it interesting?"

"A little, but not much. I don't see what the point is."

"The point ..." sighed Darz. "The point ... the point is, I could tell you a lot of things about magic, if I sat here and talked to you, right?"

"Yeah," I said.

"But that takes my time and your time."

"Yeah," I said.

"So, I can write what I have to say, and keep it here," Darz said, tapping the book. "So that whenever it's convenient, someone who wants to know what I know can open this, and ... effectively, I'm talking to them. And they can listen for a minute, or an hour, whatever is good for them, and then go and think about what I've said, and come back again, and listen to it again. Or listen to more. That's the point."

"It's not as good as having you here," I objected.

"It's not the same as having me here," Darz said. "This is true. But it's much easier and more convenient, and if I've done a good job of ... of storing what I know in this, then I won't forget to mention something. So it might be ... more complete, than if I were talking, and perhaps I started to get tired."

"Oh," I said.

"So ... you seemed to have gone through the whole book, or at least the last fourth of it, while I was watching you. Did you do that for the rest of it before I got here?"

I started to say I hadn't seen her come in, but I caught myself before I admitted that. "Yeah," I said. "I did."

Darz looked at the buckle I'd rebuckled, and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. "Hmmm," she said.

"What?"

"It opens out of order for you, but not for me," said Darz.

"There's ..."

"Yes, there's an order. You have to start with the first buckle. You can't just start with the third. Or rather, I can't just start with the third. Apparently, you can."

"I ..."

"Stand up," she said.

"Yeah," I said, standing up, "but you need to tell me why."

"I want to look at you," Darz said. "Raise your arms. Spread your legs." She considered. "Farther apart. Farther."

I was almost falling over, but I did it, feeling very, very exposed, since Jack didn't let me have clothing. "Turn around," she instructed. "Slowly."

I wasn't stupid enough to disobey Darz twice, so I did, but I did ask, "Why? What ..."

"Stop," she said. "Don't move," and I could feel her hand touch me, right above my ass, to the left side.

"A serpent," she said. "Unexpected."

"A what?"

"Venomous snake," Darz said. "You have a tattoo of a venomous snake - or at least, with fangs like that I presume it's venomous - on your back. When did you get it?"

I was silent for a minute. "I have never gotten any tattoos."

"Well, you have one now," Darz said. "And it's magic, strongly magic ..." she added. "No particular sort, just ... well."

"What is it? Can you get rid of it?"

The gnoll laughed softly. "Why would I want to do that? Or you, for that matter, when it's what you were asking for. Something has answered your request for power, Bors."

"What has?"

"I told you I couldn't know, except that it would not interfere with your own plans," said Darz. "And I don't know. This is ... somewhat more than I expected. I didn't expect anything to, ah, happen until ..."

"Until what?"

Darz shrugged. "Later. Until later."

Somehow, I knew that wasn't what she'd meant.

Jack himself didn't say anything other than to inspect the tattoo, slap me on the ass, and finger me until I was writhing on his bed. Sometimes he did that; he'd just ... play with me, drive me into something like a frenzy, and then let me beg him to fuck me. Beg. And when I'd humiliated myself enough for him, he'd fuck me, and it would feel so good that it didn't matter what I'd gone through to get it.

I hated that.

And I hated Grimn, standing by, watching me, stroking himself, thinking Jack would give me to him. Or maybe, thinking he was Jack. A goblin, imagining it was an ogre.

I'd have laughed at him if it wouldn't mean laughing at myself.

I'd known what Jack would say, I'd heard him say it to Timdon, and yet, when he said it to me, about me, it was still like being hit with lightning.

"Finally."

Grimn disappeared that same day. I finally asked Jack what had happened to him.

"I was expecting him to touch you," Jack said. "He wanted to."

"I know," I said.

"If he had, I would have broken his arms, and legs, and turned him into a cow." Jack sighed. "I was looking forward to it. I thought you'd goad him into it."

No way I'd work for either of you, I thought, but all I said was, "So what happened to him?"

"What do you think?" Jack said, actually sounding serious.

"Huh?"

"What do you think I did with him?"

"I don't know," I said. "How would I know?"

"Interesting," Jack said finally. "I wonder if that's orc, or just you."

"What?"

"You're occasionally astonishingly smart," Jack said. "It's a quality I appreciate. But you have the strangest blind spots, and I wonder if that's because you're pure orc, because it's orc mindset, or if it's just you. I cut off his hands and feet, blinded him, crushed his balls, and he's now turning into a cow. Of course."

"But that's what ..."

"It would have been more amusing if he thought he'd brought it on himself," Jack said. "At least to me."

"You're the only one that counts."

Jack chuckled, and then paused. "You did mean that as a joke?"

"No," I said, confused. "Why?"

"You don't see ..." Jack stopped. He paused, looked at me, and I knew he was making a decision. I just wished I knew what it was. A difficult decision, given how long it was taking him. His face went, not quite blank, but relaxed, as he considered the problem.

And decided. "You'll stay here for your term," Jack said.

That was what he'd been considering? "You won't throw me out?"

"No," said Jack. "I was considering moving you to the sowery, that's all, but I think ... I think I'll keep you around, after all, until you whelp.

In other words, Jack wasn't done with me yet.

"And then what?"

"Depends on whether you survive or not," Jack said, sounding unconcerned. "I'll worry about it then."

Yeah. I've got that to look forward to. "Let's pretend I do," I said, "since I'm not really interested in the other case."

For some reason, Jack found that hilariously funny.

Jack didn't stop fucking me, though, so ... I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he didn't force me down. I tested him, fighting him seriously one night. He still chained me up, and fucked me maybe a little harder than usual - I wish I could bring myself to think of that as a bad thing - but the next morning, I still didn't have any bruises. No. He was different, now that I was heavy.

Bastard.

He had Darz cut a new room, off his, by conjuring some kind of earth lemon, a blocky thing like a headless stone ogre, which opened up a new chamber in the cliff in under an hour. Apparently that was how Darz had carved her own shelter. The blacksmith added bars, and a gate shut not with a lock but a bolt - and the bolt can't be opened from inside. It wasn't freedom, but it was better than being chained up. Maybe. Maybe not.

Jack showed me how to lock the gate from the inside, as well, by putting an iron rod in the track for the gate. I didn't see how it could be forced from the outside, and I wasn't sure why he'd do that, but I liked it. I set the rod in the first few days, and Jack didn't say anything. Of course, I was quick to move it when Jack wanted in, too, but that only happened three or four times, and each time, Jack pulled me out of the ... cell, room, whatever it was to use me in his room, before letting me go back.

After another score or so of days (I lost count), Darz came back, and did something to the wall. It was magic, I knew, like a curtain, a dim brown smudge that I could see more clearly when I wasn't looking at it. Jack seemed to ignore it, so I ignored it, too. It took me another couple of weeks - and other visitors - to realize it was some kind of illusion, probably of a wall. The sows that came in didn't notice me, and even Jack's Lodge masters didn't seem to see a thing when they came in to discuss something with him.

About three days after that, I realized they couldn't hear me, either.

Jack had made me disappear.

Nobody had seen me except Jack - and Darz, but she didn't count, she'd do whatever Jack wanted - for ... how long? I didn't know. A month? Two? How long had I been locked in here? I put my hand over my belly; it was already starting to grow. What was Jack going to do to me?

I couldn't stay here. I couldn't let Jack ... I didn't know, all I knew was that I couldn't let him do it, whatever it was, so I tried to open the gate, but of course it was locked, and the bars wouldn't bend, although they became slippery as I kept trying to break them.

I was on my knees, cold and still trying to pull the bars apart when Jack came in, looked at me, and for the first time ever, I saw something other than the usual amused indifference - something hotter, angrier, and ... scarier. I threw myself away from the blood-covered bars, huddled against the wall.

"What are you doing?" said Jack in a whispered snarl, and he tried to open the gate, but I'd barred it from the inside. "Bors, unpin the gate."

Somewhere inside me, I knew I should, I knew I needed to get up, needed to remove the metal rod that kept the gate closed, but I couldn't force myself to. I looked across the cell at Jack, and he seemed to fade in and out.

No, the cell was fading in and out, not just Jack.

"Bors. Open the gate," Jack said, and I couldn't help myself, I stood up, and I know I was going to do it. I took a step towards the gate.

"... might happen," Darz was saying as I woke up. I tried to move, carefully, but something around my arms and legs kept me from shifting more than an inch or two.

"Yes," growled Jack. "You did."

"Then ..."

"Because this is so out of character."

Darz smothered a laugh.

"What is so funny?"

"You," said Darz. "Now get out."

"Why?" said Jack.

"Because she's awake," Darz said, and then added, "She's not the only one acting out of character."

Jack's voice was cold as he said, "What do you mean?"

"This level of concern is unusual for you."

"Bors is now a significant asset for you as well as my own little side-project," Jack said. "I have told you - repeatedly - that as long as your plans did not interfere with mine, I would advance them as carefully as my own. It puzzles me that, despite the evidence to the contrary, you still have troubles."

"You don't know what my plans are."

"Not this again," sighed Jack. "Just pretend that I do know, and we can go from there."

"Fine," said Darz. "Now get out."

"Why?"

Darz shook her head. "Jack, get out."

"The ..."

"No," interrupted Darz. "Get out."

Jack just shook his head, and walked out.

"Oh, Jack?"

He turned just beyond the door. "What?"

"Nothing personal -" and a thick sheet of ice shimmered into existence, opaque white, cutting off the door and any reply Jack might have made. "But I do want this private," she continued, although I don't think Jack could have heard her.

"That ... panic," she said, "was not your fault. It's because you're," she paused, "heavy. It's ... sort of messes with you, and if you don't have any experience with it, it's ..."

Oh. I nodded. "I understand."

"Just like that?"

Huh? "Yes," I said. "It's like bloodrage," and then I paused. I'd spent time learning how to channel that rage. Did I still ...

Yes. The anger was still there, just ... buried deeper, now. But I could still reach it, still use it, when I needed it. Good. "That takes some getting used to."

"That's ... probably a good comparison," said Darz. "Jack's right. I don't get orcs. I would have made a mess of this if I'd done it ... if I'd tried to do it myself."

"You were going to ... to try to do what Jack is doing?" I asked.

"I was," Darz said. "And then I met Jack, and thought he'd be a better mouthpiece." She snorted. "That I could control orcs through him."

"Didn't work," I said.

"No," said Darz. "This is better, even if ... I do find myself occasionally baffled by him. My ..." and Darz paused. "Never mind."

"Your boss likes him better than you," I said.

Darz just shook her head. "Not quite, but ... close enough. He thinks I was brilliant to get him to work with me." She paused. "Is it that obvious?"

It was my turn to think. Darz had been, as much as she could, helpful. "Yes and no. I've heard a lot of things from Jack that I don't think he'd tell anyone else. And I've seen you take his orders - even when you didn't want to, without his having to explain - and that says you're under orders, not his, to obey him."

"Surprisingly insightful, even if you weren't an orc," Darz said. "That's not exactly right, but it's so close that there's no point in spending more time on it."

"I'm not stupid," I said.

"No," said Darz. "You're not." The gnoll stood up. "Given that you're going to be locked up for a while, would you like to learn to read?"

"Learn ..." I shook my head. "No." What good would that be?

Darz laughed. "Ah, the joys of dealing with orcs," she said as she stood. The ice blocking the door melted, turning liquid and then into a cool fog.

Unsurprisingly, Jack was standing immediately outside. "Have fun?"

"You can't leave her alone that long, Jack."

"Can't I."

"Not without hurting her. Bors is changed, doesn't understand how, and isolation and confinement isn't ... conducive to her well-being."

Jack grunted. "Fine."

"It's not ..."

"I understand," Jack said, cutting Darz off. "It was an error." Jack took a deep breath. "My error. I will not repeat it."

"You're welcome," said Darz. "Glad I could help."

"You can leave now," Jack said. "Oh, and thank you."

Jack didn't say anything after that, but instead of sleeping in the cell, he let me sleep with him. He still locked me up when he wasn't there but ... it wasn't so bad. And Jack seemed almost fascinated by my growing heaviness. He'd stopped fucking me right after it was clear I was heavy, but ... after I started showing, really showing, he started up again, only a lot softer. Instead of throwing me down and using me, he'd lie me on the furs, on my side, and bend my leg up to enter me.

Every time he did it, it felt better. Getting heavy made me ache, everywhere, my legs, my arms, my back, like the day after one of Paw's beatings. The first time Jack did it, I was surprised that he could bring me to climax, much less multiple ones, but I guess I should stop being surprised at anything Jack does.

At least he didn't fuck me in front of the Lodge warlords. That would have been ... difficult. The jokes they made when they were talking with Jack were bad enough, but at least they didn't address me directly. It was interesting, though, almost enough to make up for being naked, heavy, and laying on Jack's cot like some captured sow.

Exactly like that.

Jack didn't talk to his warlords like Paw talked to his warchiefs. Maybe that was because Jack had well over a thousand warriors under his warlords, and Paw had around a hundred. And maybe some of it was because Jack was, well, Jack, and not Chief Griter. But it was interesting, anyway. Jack listened to his warlords. He talked about upcoming raids, battles, frontiers he wanted to leave alone, borders he wanted to press against. Usually.

He didn't generally give an order until the raid was planned. Then he gave orders - deployed his lodges and forces clearly, and a hell of a lot more cleverly than Paw would have. Or me. The funny thing is, though, after a couple of months, I could start guessing what he'd do. His warlords expected his orders. They knew what was coming.

It was an interesting way to be a warlord.

Whelping ... hurt. It didn't help that I was swollen, and my entire body ached from carrying the weight. It felt like I was ripping myself apart, ripping myself open, over and over and over and over. I think I might have, at least once, as I'm sure somebody - Darz, I think - cast healing magic on me during the process. I'd shed less blood from a battle wound, and it had hurt less, and been over quicker.

There were at least three, and maybe five orclets; I wasn't sure. It was hard to keep track, but I could hear Jack talking with Darz and one of Jack's other sows, who were coaching me through the process. I'm not sure what Jack was doing, and by the end, I didn't care. All I cared was that the thing was over, and I could pass out.

I woke up back in my cage, feeling ... a lot better than I think I should have. Maybe an afteraffect of the healing magic. My guts still felt ... I don't know how to describe it; loose, maybe, only not in the sense of the runs or anything like that, just ... like they weren't squished. Like I wasn't being squished.

I got up - and that was a lot easier than it should have, and much easier than it had been before I whelped - to find bread, cheese, apples, and beer. And not just any bread, but under the thick crust it was fine and soft. No stones, no wood shavings, just ... bread. The cheese was soft, almost like rendered fat, and it tasted mild and good. Even the beer was ... fantastic. Sharp, clean, it was easily the best beer I'd ever had. Ever. Even the apples were perfect, like they'd just been picked. Sweet, crunchy, wonderful.Altogether, it might be the best meal I'd ever had.

"Finished?" asked Jack. I hadn't seen him come in, and he hadn't been in the room when I woke up, but he was there now, standing a foot or so away from the bars.

I nodded.

"Good?"

I nodded again. "Yeah," I said.

Jack nodded, too, his eyes half-closed. "You did well. I'm pleased." He looked me over. "Has the milk come in yet?"

Milk? Oh no ... I was suddenly aware of a weight in my chest. Had it? I reached up, touched my upper left dug. I shouldn't even have dugs ... but I did, and it was hot. Sore. Swollen.

Full.

Jack chuckled. "Good." I don't know what Jack read on my face, because he said, "No, I'm not planning to turn you into a cow. A sow is enough. But don't touch them."

"Why ..."

"Because if you do, you won't dry up," Jack said. "And if you don't dry up, then I will turn you into a cow."

"Oh." I pulled my hand away. "So, when can I see them?"

Jack's eyes snapped back open. "See who?"

"My ... the orclets."

Jack tilted his head back. "Never."

Never? "But ..." I whispered, shocked. "Never?"

"Well, probably never," said Jack.

"But they're my ..."

"No," Jack interrupted. "They're mine. Not yours, mine. Mine to have, mine to raise, mine to teach, and mine to kill, should it please me." He took a step forward, until he was at the bars. "Just. Like. You. Mine."

He was going to kill them. And me. That didn't surprise me, but to hear it put so ... clearly. I didn't have much time left, then. I don't know why that surprised me. Maybe it was the suddenness of it.

I don't know why I broke out into tears - I couldn't remember the last time that happened. Maybe it was the suddenness of it. But I was crying, and I couldn't stop. After a minute or two, still gasping for breath, I went over to the cot.

Jack watched me for a time, and said something softly before he left.

It wasn't until later, when I'd gotten myself under control again, when I realized what he's said sounded like, "Finally."

I forgot my tears, I forgot the breakdown, I even - for a short few minutes - forgot my orclets. Why did he say that?

The next few days, though, Jack didn't do anything, at least not to me. My dugs leaked, and hurt, but it wasn't too bad, and remembering what Jack had said, I left them untouched. For once, I figured that whatever Jack had planned wasn't as bad as his threat of being a cow. The food was stew and bread, not the good bread I'd had earlier, but good enough. The beer was weak, probably watered, but that wasn't anything new. A few days turned into a week, and Jack just asked me one question.

"Did you train with an axe or a sword?"

"Uh, both. But I prefer an axe." Why?

Jack nodded. "Noted." He looked into my cage. "Generally speaking, of course, a sow doesn't need a weapon."

I swallowed. "No," I said.

Jack smiled, a wintry, amused thing that looked out of place on him. "A sow with a weapon could be dangerous, after all."

"Uh ..." I said. What could I say?

"Isn't that right?"

"I guess," I said.

"How long did it take you to become dangerous with an axe, Bors?"

I thought about that for a moment. "I was pretty dangerous right away, mostly to myself."

That drew a sharp chuckle. "And after?"

"Maybe a couple of months," I said.

"That quickly," said Jack.

"Yes," I said, a little nettled. "I'd already trained with a sword, and an axe ... just seemed right to me. You know?"

"I believe you," Jack said. "I was impressed. That's pretty fast, that's all."

"Oh," I said.

"But you can't use an axe now."

I shook my head.

"Since you're a sow," Jack continued.

"I know," I said through my gritted teeth.

"Just checking," Jack said. "To be sure you understood."

"I know," I repeated dully. "No weapons."

"Wouldn't want you to forget," Jack said.

I turned my back on him. He didn't say anything, but when I turned around a few minutes later, he was gone. I hadn't heard him, hadn't felt so much a draft of air, but he was still gone.

Over the next week, my dugs dried up - thankfully. Jack was in and out, but he didn't pay me much attention beyond bringing me food. That was fine with me; Jack's attention was something I could live without. When Jack wasn't in, I practiced my sword drills. I didn't have a sword, of course, Jack had taken mine from me when he took me from the Bleeding Slash. I used one of the iron bars that was about the right size. The weight wasn't balanced like exactly like my sword, but that didn't matter. It was close enough.

At least I was doing something. I could even imagine doing it to Jack.

That cheered me up a lot.

It was nearly a week later, and I'd just set the bar down when Jack said - Jack, who hadn't been there a moment earlier, because I had been watching in case he came in - "So that's why your so cheerful."

"How did you do that?"

"Practice. A great deal of practice. Can you dance?"

"No," I said.

"Then it would be practically impossible for you to learn," Jack said, sounding almost regretful. "I think I'd enjoy teaching someone, someday."

"Dancing?" I asked.

"It has to do with the way you move your body," Jack said. "And the way your body moves in the light, the shadows you move into."

"I can't believe you dance," I said.

Jack laughed. "Believe. In fact, watch me, Bors. Watch closely. Don't blink."

I stared at him, and Jack ... shifted his stance. Like he was water, like he was ... I don't know, but it was like watching a hawk coasting on the air, tiny, minute adjustments that let the light play over ...

And just like that, Jack was gone. I hadn't blinked, hadn't taken my eyes off him, but ... Jack was gone.

"Here," Jack said, and it was like he hadn't moved. "It's another sort of dancing."

"That ..." I didn't know what to say. I'd never even realized that was possible, much less to see it ... "Is that magic?"

Jack started to say no, and then paused. "I'm ... I'm not sure. It might use a sort of magic, naturally available magic, but ... that's tricky. Maybe the best way to describe it would be to say it depends on magic. So perhaps it is a sort a magic, after all. I hadn't thought about it that way." Jack nodded. "Which makes it an excellent question. Maybe I should keep you around a little longer."

That sent a wave of fear through me. He was planning to get rid of me.

"What are you going to do with me?"

Jack shrugged. "What I'd do with any blooded sow. Put her somewhere that brings me an advantage." He looked at me closely. "You look relieved."

"I was thinking ... wondering if you were going to kill me."

"No," said Jack. "You serve a function alive. Every warlord, every ally, every warrior can look at you and see an example of what I can and will do. Dead, you're just a rumor." Something glinted in his eyes, something ... I wasn't sure what.

"Great," I said.

The half-orc shook his head slowly. "I could have said I liked you, but would you have believed that was a reason for me to keep you alive?"

"No," I said. "Even if you did like me, you'd kill me if you had a reason."

Jack nodded. "Yes. So I offered you a reason to keep you alive."

That ... I didn't understand that. "You're saying you like me?"

"Don't get your hopes up," advised Jack, and he turned and left.

What did that mean?

It only took a few hours to find out exactly what that meant. I was positioned on a breeding bench. I wasn't bred, though, just face-fucked by Bear lodge warriors. I lost track after the first five, or the second or third five. All I really remember is the bonfire, and everybody but me drinking beer. Although I got some beer, too, from beer-hazed orcs pouring the stuff over me as they shoved their meat down my throat, poured their seed into me in one after another. They might as well have been fucking a squash as me, for all the difference it made.

I only saw Jack once during the whole night; at the beginning. "You'll enjoy this," he said. "However you feel about it afterward."

And the terrible thing was, he was right. I did enjoy it, every moment of it. I didn't get hard like a boar, of course, Jack had taken that away, but it's not like I felt nothing. It was ... harder to describe. A tightness in my stomach. A heat, that wasn't mere warmth, up and down my legs, centering on what had been my maleness and was still there in some kind of strange, other sow way.

Because I wasn't a boar any more.

Jack had made me a sow. And just like a sow, I couldn't get enough of the boars around me. I couldn't even tell if there were other sows there, on other stands, like mine, drinking not beer but boarseed. Or being bred, the way I wasn't. Although I wanted to ...

And didn't want to, when I remembered just how painful whelping had been. Maybe ... maybe Jack wouldn't make me go through that again. The heaviness. Bearing. Whelping ... maybe he was just going to keep me like this, a broken boar happily acting the sow for Jack's warriors, a reward and a warning, a gift and a threat, all together. Did the fact that I was squirmingly excited, that I was wet and dripping from my cunt, that every stroke in felt like it was reaching - almost, almost - to the other end of me matter? That I could have climaxed myself, felt myself go tense and slack all at the same time with the sensation matter?

That while I was there, my head battered between pair after pair of warrior thighs hot and musky with orcscent, that I wanted to be there, wanted nothing more than to be there, did that make it better for me? Did that make me more useful, eager sow that I was, eager to serve, and in that need, that panic, that eagerness, more of a warning to Jack's boars at the same time?

See what I've done to this boar.

And the worst of it was that losing this much, this badly, this terribly, felt, for the brief moments it happened, like winning. The smell of seed, tricking down my hair, my face, my still-sensitive dugs, my back, felt like winning. The taste of seed, orc after orc, each slightly different, every one a new combination of salty, of musky, of metallic, of bitter, even sweet.

The night ended, finally, near dawn. I was washed off with a couple of buckets of thankfully warm water, and since I could barely move when I was let out of my restraints, I was carried ... back to Jack's room, back to the barred cell where he kept me. There was food waiting, rough bread and soft cheese, but I wasn't hungry - I'd had too much to eat, or at least swallow, already.

I wouldn't blame myself if I felt like throwing up - but I didn't. Maybe I'd feel better if I did - but I still didn't.

I forced myself to eat the bread, scraping the cheese across it.

"Good?" Jack had just ... appeared ... again.

I pretended to ignore him.

"You did enjoy that, didn't you?"

I kept pretending.

"Then I'll just have to make the next time better for you," Jack said. "Now ... better, better, how will I do that?"

I don't think I was pretending anymore, I was just sitting, not responding. Was that ignoring.

"Then I suppose it will just be a surprise," Jack said, after some long period of non-response, and then he was gone again.

Jack would have made it a surprise anyway, I thought to myself, eventually, and then I looked around in a sort of dull astonishment that it was evening already. Was Jack ... I spent the next hour or two in some horrible combination of dread and anticipation, but nobody came.

Or the next night.

Or the three nights after that, and I finally began to relax again.

The sixth and seventh night were almost easy.

They came the eighth night, Jack with them, three half-naked orcs still bleeding from fresh Panther Lodge tattoos. He didn't say anything, just pulled the bars open - why hadn't I blocked them off? - and rummaged around the room - his room - for ...

He pulled it out from under the cot where I'd slept at first. "Remember this?"

A leather box. With bronze binding and fastener. Of course I remembered it. Remembered when he'd given it to me, what it contained, how he'd suggested, oh so gently, that I use the contents with Timdon.

And now I knew why he'd really had the damn things made. Three carvings of my cock.

When I'd had one.

Three.

One, two, three, they were still there when he opened the damn box - why hadn't I gotten rid of the damn things when I had the chance? - and showed them to me. One perfectly clear glass, still clear and gleaming. The silver one, mirror-bright when I'd put it away, now dull and dark with tarnish. The polished stone copy, heavy, cold, smooth, and unyielding. Jack didn't say anything - he didn't have too - just selected the glass one, and the stone one, set the box back down on the cot.

Smiled at me.

"Take her out," Jack said.

It wasn't the same place; but it looked like the same kind of place. Breeding stands, three of them, and two of them were already occupied. One - interestingly - by a boar, the other by a sow. Both of them were completely exposed, and I wondered if Jack was going to breed me this time as the Panthers strapped me down.

Jack put the toys in himself, slid a heavy weight - the stone one? - into my ass, wiggled it until it pushed against me, secured it with a strap. And then the other one, colder, heavier, that must be the stone toy, I thought, as he carefully positioned it, pushing it in, deeper, until it ... it ... touched something, and would go no further. There was a click and a snap, and I knew something would be holding it in.

"Once you reach climax, you'll stay there until you pass out," Jack whispered to me. "It won't kill you, I've made sure of that."

That made me feel ... better, and worse, at the same time, and I wasn't sure why. I was sure I didn't want to think about it.

And I didn't have to. Thinking about that kind of climax ... I didn't want it, or maybe I didn't want to want it, but I did want it, and it was going to happen, and ... I shifted on the stand. The toys didn't move. Jack ... one of the Panthers ... someone had fixed the toys to the stand. So every time I moved ... they rubbed.

Against me. Inside me. And when they started face-fucking me, it would just get worse. Better. Worse. The smell. Taste. Slickness. Heat. Musk.

It was even harder than I'd thought, swallowing down orc after orc. Panthers, this was a Panther Lodge ceremony, and I caught bits of it between the warriors; the Lodge-seniors, enough to understand that Panther lodge rank was something different than Bear-lodge, secret, trusted, but no more than that.

I was too busy. Not not-enjoying it. The toys in me, touching me, letting me subtly fuck myself on the breeding stand, knowing that they'd been ... they were ... me, the me that had been, boar-me, not this sow-me, maybe the last thing left to me that proved I'd been a boar.

And Jack was right - but then Jack was always right, curse him - sometime in the middle of the ceremony the pleasure hit me like an avalanche that wouldn't stop, the tiny rocks of pleasure turning into stones into boulders smashing through me until it wasn't pleasure, it wasn't hurt, it wasn't anything and I wasn't anything either ...

I was back in the barred cell when I started noticing where I was again. I might have passed out. I might not. I couldn't tell, anymore. The toys were gone ... no, they'd been cleaned, and they were sitting in their box, the lid opened, the toys gleaming within, the silver one brightly polished again and I wondered when and who'd done that, and how.

And then I just stopped wondering, and ate.

A night, another night, another night, and then another, and then I was brought out again, not for the Panthers, but the Foxes, the smallest lodge. Magic-workers, all sworn to their Fox King, Thundering Urdris, successor to Chained Urdris. The fire flickered green, and black, and silver, and a hundred other colors, if it was even fire.

Things wandered through night, holding mugs of beer. Orc-like, but bigger, fiercer. Orcs glistening with feathers and wings; there was an orc wearing what looked like sheets of flame. Three eyes glared from the head of a third, and then the party whirled and whirled again, and it was all different. They were showing off, I thought. Their magic, their skill. Contests, where Bears wrestled in a ring, and Panthers stalked one another for a coup, Foxes contested ... with magic.

Of course. And there was the game. I don't know what else to call it; two magic-shrouded Foxes would touch, and they would ... fight, somehow, and the loser took on a soft glow, marked by the winner. Thundering Urdris beat anyone bold enough to challenge him, but maybe wearing that mark, saying you were brave enough to challenge the Fox King, wasn't shameful. Maybe. Some Foxes wore any number of marks, losing, and losing again, and again, until they found someone to beat. Or maybe they just lost; I didn't know. I did see Darz there, talking to Thundering Urdris, but I couldn't hear anything.

I passed out long before the night was over.

Of course Jack was doing this on purpose; I just had no idea what his purpose could be. I mean, I was miserable when I woke up, but eventually miserable goes away. I was warm, I had food, and I was reasonably certain Jack wasn't going to kill me. Why would he invest so much effort in making me miserable if he were only going to kill me?

I don't know why, but for some reason that totally made me feel better. Jack seemed to notice, as he gave me a puzzled look, but he didn't say anything. I sure didn't feel like explaining it to him. Jack was almost certain to take it as a challenge. Whatever he was doing was bad enough without challenging him to make it worse. I'd certainly learned that much!

By this point I expected several days of inactivity, and that's pretty much what happened. Darz came by twice over the next six days, supposedly to ask if I was getting enough to eat.

Yeah, right.

I don't know what she was doing, but it wasn't that.

I wasn't surprised on the seventh day when Jack and three Bear warriors appeared to drag me out of the cell. I was a little surprised when I got a cold-water bath, complete with soap.

And I was even more surprised when I was finished, shivering a little, to be told to do it again, only right this time by Jack, who went on to explain all the places I hadn't washed. I was shading black from the cold by the time he was satisfied, or I would have been if my skin wasn't rubbed green from washing. To my relief, Jack had these hot dry big sheets of almost fuzzy cloth, amazingly clean, that soaked up the water, and after using three or four of them I was feeling pretty good.

But then I was bundled up in the accursed things, and carried about a mile off to a rough canvas tent. Or at least I thought it was a tent; it was a little more than that. Canvas made four walls and bent in to form a room, but the floor and the fifth wall were rough stone. A hearth built into the stone had a couple of blazing logs filling the room with warmth.

There were five chairs, a table with some cold meats and a keg of beer.

And, by the corner, a breeding stand.

No. This, I realized, was the perfect place to escape. I waited until they unwrapped me, and then I struck, smashing one of the Bears with one of the chairs. He went down, and I turned to the next - or tried to - as I felt something hit me, right above the neck, and I went numb.

I turned, or tried to, but Jack caught me as I collapsed. "Strap her in," he said, handing me to the other Warrior. "Not too tight."

"But she ..." the orc started with a growl.

"He'll live," Jack cut the warrior off. "Maybe he'll be faster next time."

"Yes, Warmaster."

"You, too," Jack said. "Once she's in, put the hood on, and stand guard inside. I already mentioned that she's to stay untouched?"

"Yes, Warmaster."

"Because if she's not, I'll know," Jack continued, as if the two had said nothing. "And I suppose you and your lodge-brother could take her place, but ... perhaps I'll come up with something even better for the example I want to make." The half-orc's tone turned cold. "I doubt you want to be an example of what happens to warriors who cannot follow my commands."

"No, Warmaster!" the Bear said, almost desperately. "She will be untouched, I swear ..."

"QUIET!" roared Jack. "Do as I have instructed." He paused, looked around. "Our guests will be here soon enough. Once they arrive, leave them here, and join your lodge-brother outside."

Guests. So now I'm the entertainment for his visitors. Joy.

"Yes, Warmaster," the reply came, after a moment.

"Good," Jack growled as he left.

Once the Bear I'd knocked out woke up, he came over and growled at me, but his lodge-brother practically jumped on him. "The Warmaster said not to touch her."

"I'd like to do a fucklot more than touch her," the Bear said.

"Traghk, don't," the other said. "The Warmaster said he'd take it out on both of us. Do. Not. Want."

"Later, then," he said.

"You stand outside."

"Why?"

"The Warmaster said you, outside. And I don't trust you alone in here. You'd give the sow what she deserves, but ..."

"Do not want, right," said Traghk, "I know. Fine. Sow!" and then he started. "Shouldn't there be a hood? The Warmaster ..."

"Shit," cursed the other Bear. "I didn't ... where is it? I know, if we don't ..."

It was almost funny watching them tear through the tent. It was much less funny when they finally found it, underneath the stand, and fastened it on me. It was more of a blindfold than anything else, although it extended down my cheeks to fasten under my neck, and around the back of my head.

Bastards.

And then all there was to do was try to get comfortable on the stand. It wasn't that bad, actually; leather wrapped all of the wood supports, and even the metal bars had some cloth padding. And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Finally. Deep voices in the distance, footsteps. I don't know that I was looking forward to it, but ... at least I wouldn't be waiting. The voices were gruff, and short.

"... here, Sir," said a familiar-sounding warrior; one of the Bear warlords, I thought. "I will let the Warmaster know you've arrived, Chieftain, Warchief. There are guards around the tent, of course, for your safety. Everything you need should be inside, but if there's something else you want, let the warrior at the door know."

"I came to see Jack," the voice said. A very familiar voice, although I hadn't heard it in ... over a year. "All sorts of bad things will happen if I'm not back. I'm not threatening you, or Jack, I'm just stating a fact, understand." It was him. No, this wasn't happening.

"I will tell the Warmaster, Chieftain."

Of course it was happening. I could feel myself starting to gasp for air, and then there were steps over to where I was gasping for breath. Maybe ...

A hand slapped my ass, hard, and at least I caught my breath. Another slap, just on one side, and I grunted in surprise, but the hand didn't lift right away. It was ... just sort of cupping my ass for for a moment, and then a couple of fingers traced their way down to ... to ... to where my cock should have been if I had one.

Over the lips of my cunt.

No, no, no, no, no, was all I could think. I knew what was going to happen next, could hear the word in my head. "Sweet!"

"Sweet!" Kett's voice was a little deeper than I remembered, but that one word was more than enough to know it was him with Paw.

Maybe he wouldn't recognize me. In fact, he almost certainly wouldn't. Why would Kett think some sow on a stand was his brother?

Don't, was the only think I could think as he played with my cunt and ass. Only ... he was good at it. Not as good as Jack, but more than good enough to have me writing. I was trying not to say anything, though, trying not to give myself away. If I could just get through this without them finding out, I could pretend it never happened, I could pretend this wasn't happening.

"Paw, I don't want to step on your toes, but ..."

It's not Kett, it's not Paw, it's just a couple of boars ... I couldn't see what was happening, but no matter what I told myself, it was all the more real for that.

"No, you go ahead, boy," Paw said. "Jack'll be along, he'll keep us waiting for a time."

Kett just shoved himself into me with a sigh, and then started rocking back and forth. He lacked Jack's control or technique, but then ... who didn't? And unfortunately it didn't matter; I was reacting to him regardless.

Exactly the way Jack trained me to.

"Well, fuck him, them," Kett snarled, instead fucking me. It felt so good, after I'd been waiting ...

"Eh, no point in getting angry," sighed Paw. "Jack said jump, we jumped. I don't like it, but that don't make it less true."

"I don't see why," grumbled Kett, emphasizing why with a hard thrust against me, burying himself fully. I could feel boar-seed spurting inside me, sinking into me, making me almost ... floaty, the edges of the leather straps, the hardness of the stand fading away into a warm haze.

Oh fuck, I thought. I knew what had happened now.

Fuck.

I was so fucked, I thought as I sucked the salty musk of the remnants of seed and my own juices off Kett. Fucked. Fucked. Fucked.

"You should have a go, Paw."

No. No no no, I thought, but even if I wanted to, I couldn't have said anything, not with Kett's cock in my mouth.

"Well," Paw said, and then snorted. "I'm not that old," he said.

No.

Yes. Paw plunged into me - I couldn't help but tighten up around him, fuck he felt good and then, without even talking about it, they started a back-and-forth motion that had me swinging up against Kett just as Paw was pulling out and readying another thrust.

It felt so good. Why did it have to feel so good, that hot length, buried in me, filling me ...

Kett came again before Paw did, and I just swallowed the seed down. I wanted it in that moment, never mind that it was my brother Kett, never mind that Paw was fucking me at the same time, getting ready ...

... to spill himself. I could feel his maleness pulse inside, adding his fluids to Ketts, marking me.

I was so fucked. I wanted this to be over so bad, and at the same time, didn't.

I squeezed on Paw, trying to keep him in me, but he pulled out anyway with, "Ya mind?"

"No, course not, Paw", Kett said, and then I was completely empty.

A moment later, I was sucking Paw clean, licking at the base, wiping the drops on his heavy balls off.

"Ah," sighed Paw. "Well-trained, I like that. Yeah, it's nice to be clean ..." He patted me on the head, not even bothering to say anything beyond that. I almost - almost - laughed to myself. That was probably the first complement Paw ever gave me, and he didn't even know it.

Not that I wanted it, of course.

Fuck.

I was so fucked ...

"Beer?" Paw asked Kett.

"What if it's ... drugged?"

Paw just snorted. "Kett, Jack doesn't have to drug us, trick us, or anything else." I could hear sounds, and smell the slight sour yeast of the beer.

"Nice to eat," Kett said. "Good spread."

"Yeah," and they settled down into a companionable silence broken only by the sound of chewing. I couldn't believe I was eager for Jack to arrive.

The first clue I had was when Jack ripped the hood off. He met my gaze with a smile. Fuck. What was ... and then I looked over, and realized Paw and Kett hadn't seen him yet.

He walked - silently - over to the wall, and said. "Welcome, Chieftain Griter, Warlord Kett."

They reacted - fast. Well, slow compared to Jack but then ... well, fast enough, I suppose. I tried to keep my face down. I was really hoping I could get through this without them recognizing me, and ... if I just didn't look them in the face.

Maybe.

Just let this be over. I was so fucked.

"Warmaster," said Paw. "Here we are."

"Good," said Jack. "You have a good trip?"

"Trip was fine," Paw said impatiently, gesturing at Kett to sit back down. "Food was fine. Sow was fine. Now, business?"

"Business, then," said Jack. "First. You raided the Spear Chuckers."

"Yeah," said Griter.

"That stirred up the humans."

"So?"

"So that's what I told you not to do."

"Fuck that," said Griter with a sneer. "You said not to raid humans. I have nearly two hundred warriors now. I can't tell them to do nothing. If they ..."

"No," Jack interrupted. "You're right. They need to do something, need to be blooded. Suppose you send some over to me, I'll put them under a Wolflord, they'll be blooded, get all the battle they need. You keep the experienced warriors."

"So they'll end up as yours?"

"I'll send them back to you." Jack shrugged. "The ones that live, anyway. If it matters."

"Yes it matters! I'm not ..." and then Paw stopped. "Fine. I'll do it. But I want Bors back, and that axes you mentioned. Three of them.

Jack looked at me - directly at me - and smiled. "How about just the three axes?"

"No," said Paw. "He's still alive, isn't he?"

"Bors is alive," Jack said, still smiling at me, and then he turned back to Paw. "Chieftain Griter, I'll give you Bors back, for Kett."

"Kett ..." and Paw looked a little uncertain.

I nearly yelled out Don't do it, Paw, but I managed not to. He might make the right decision, and if I didn't have to say anything ...

"Paw?" Kett asked, sounding a little uncertain. "Is that a good idea?"

"No," said Paw. "No, I need both my boys."

Ha.

"Kett seems to be doing pretty fine,"

Paw shook his head. "I need another warlord to keep the warriors in line."

"I'll send you a Panther."

"Loyal to you, not me."

"Yes," said Jack. "But serving you."

"Then you've got yourself a spy, and you don't need Bors," Paw said.

I was more than a little surprised at how hard he was trying to get me back, and more than a little worried he might succeed. I'm so fucked.

"Not a spy," said Jack, sounding offended. "He's my warlord. He'll report to me, even as he serves you. That's not a spy. You know where his loyalty is."

Paw held up a hand in apology - my Paw? Apologizing? - "Fine, then. You'll have your reports. But ... I've held up my end. And everything I've heard about you is that you hold up your end."

"I never agreed to give Bors up at any point," Jack said.

"Nobody will believe it."

To my shock, Jack laughed. "Well done, Chieftain Griter. I was wondering what leverage you thought you had ... I didn't think you had any. Shows me."

"So ..."

"I'll train Kett up as a Bear warrior. Probably he'll make warlord, but that's up to him, not me," Jack said. "And ... I'll give him back to you in a year. And I'll send two more warlords, to help you keep your clan in line."

"If I have Bors, that will be enough."

Ouch.

"If you insist," Jack said with a grin. "But I won't hold it against you if you change your mind."

Paw nodded. "The deal is, I get Bors back. You get Kett - for no more than a year, to train as a warlord if he can handle it. And he can."

"I expect so," agreed Jack.

"I get one of your warlords."

"A Bear warlord. Up to three, if you want them," Jack said. He must really want my Paw to stay Chief, I thought.

Paw nodded. "If I want them. Kett comes here in six months."

Jack paused. "Now."

Paw shook his head. "I need him."

"Why?" asked Jack, sounding curious. "Seriously, Griter, why?"

Paw grimaced. "Yellem said so."

That old fraud?

"Your shaman," Jack said, thoughtfully. "I've heard of him. He's an oracle."

Paw just nodded.

"Keep Kett."

"What?" Paw sounded almost as confused as I was.

"Keep him," Jack said.

"But ..." said Kett.

"Shut up, Kett!" Paw snapped, and then he turned back to Jack. "Good, then."

"You can still the warlords, if you want them," Jack said.

"Great," said Paw. "I'll remember that. Don't think I'll need them, though. He looked around the room. "The axes?"

"They're outside," Jack said.

"Bors?"

Oh fuck no ...

Jack just pointed at me. "Right there."

"What ..." said Paw, and then he and Kett were standing in front of me. Paw pulled my head up, looked right at me, and I could see Kett's face go from shock to anger, and behind that, a look of fear.

Paw was just staring at me. Reached out, pulled on a dug. His face twisted into an expression I wasn't sure I'd ever seen before.

And then ...

... he started laughing.