# King of the Orcs Pt. 3

Author: Moon-Drummer
Tags: Anal, Gay, Group, Incest, Muscle Worship, Muscles, Oral, Orc, Rough

Stedon opened his eyes slowly. They
widened when he saw the snarling visage of a bald, yellow-eyed orc standing
over him. It wasn't Grothor. This brute had a scar across one eye and a pierced
nose. Wider cheekbones than Grothor had. All in all, a less handsome specimen. 
"Shek'ok na'rog," the orc rumbled,
speaking to someone behind him. 
The orc kept Stedon pinned where he
lay while another orc lumbered into view. Stedon melted in relief.
"Grothor," he whispered.
Grothor's companion growled and
pressed the blade harder to Stedon's neck.
"Ze'ne raja kok?" the orc demanded. 
Grothor looked amused as he looked at
Stedon. He answered his companion in a tone that sounded coy. Grothor looked
the other orc in the eyes and snapped an order. The second orc reluctantly
sheathed his blade and stalked out of sight.
Stedon sat up. A third orc - this one
with long black hair that hung loose but for a few long braids - had Stedon's
horse. Stedon admired the mass of striations that burst across the long-haired
orc's naked chest. His face was different, as well. More bestial than his
companions, with wide upturned nostrils and prominent upper fangs as well as
lower tusks.
Grothor crouched beside him. "Why you
here?"
"Looking for you," Stedon said,
somewhat defensively.
"I come for you later. Why you not at
cave?"
Stedon tried to explain about his
brother, his feelings, but Grothor simply didn't understand enough Necarean.
Grothor stood and motioned Stedon to wait where he was.
Stedon built his camp fire back up.
He'd built a lean-to the evening before and stored some spare wood inside with
him where it would be sure to stay dry. Stedon dared a glance back to Long-Hair,
only to see the orc watching him as well. Long-Hair gave Stedon a slow, lewd
grin. Stedon shuddered at the sensual thrill that grin gave him. 
Grothor returned in the company of yet
another new orc. It must have been his entire band, Stedon realized. Grothor
had to be the orc equivalent of a scout leader, tasked with playing games of
cat and mouse with human rangers all through the mountain foothills along the
border of orc-held territory. 
Human and orc regarded each other. The
fourth orc was slimmer by orc standards , with none of the raw bulk Stedon had
come to crave in his men. Even so, his body was well-sculpted, with shapely
pectorals and visible abdominals. He wore a necklace of fangs that Stedon
guessed were of bear or wolf, and his dull green body was covered in black
tattoos, including a tribal-looking tattoo mask across his face that made the
orc's brown eyes almost seem to glow.
Grothor gestured at the tattooed orc.
"This Majok. Majok give you thing you need."
Stedon nodded to show that he trusted
Grothor, even if he wasn't sure what Grothor meant. Majok took a leather pouch
on a string at his waist and opened it. He took out a bitter-smelling yellow
ochre. Turning to Stedon, Majok beckoned with one green finger.
Stedon hesitantly scooted forward so
Majok could apply the ochre to his lips, chanting softly under his breath in
Speech. Majok applied some ochre to his own lips. Still chanting, Majok plucked
a coal from the fire. Stedon instinctively recoiled when Majok moved the coal
toward him. 
Majok grabbed him roughly by a fistful
of hair and pressed the hot coal to Stedon's lips. The contact only lasted a
moment. Stedon screamed. Majok hurridly kissed the hot coal to his own lips,
then slipped it into his leather pouch.
Stedon cupped his burned mouth with
his hands, eyes squeezed shut as he fought against showing tears to the orcs.
If Grothor had been disgusted by them, Stedon didn't want to shame himself in
front  of the entire band.
"Did it work?" Grothor's voice asked.
A space of silence. A second voice.
"Say something to him."
"Open your eyes, my little
pink-skinned whore," Grothor ordered.
Stedon opened his eyes. Grothor,
Majok, and Grothor's scar-eyed lieutenant all peered down at him. Grothor
raised his eyebrows. "Well? Say something!"
Grothor was still speaking Orkish. The
harsh words were the same. Yet, Stedon knew them. Stedon stammered out,
"C...could I have some water?"
He'd wanted to say 'please' but
apparently there was no translation into Orkish. Stedon put a hand to his mouth
in shock. He'd spoken Orkish back to Grothor!
"Hah!" Grothor barked, clapping his
thick green hands together in triumph. "Well cast, Majok!" He slapped Majok's
tattooed back. The shaman could only smile back at Grothor. The spell had
robbed him of his voice. And such a powerful spell meant it likely Majok would
never talk again. 
Stedon stared at Majok. "Why?" he
whispered. "Why would you do this for me?"
Majok gave him a sad smile back and
gestured at his tattoos. 
"He is marked," Grothor explained. "A
criminal. It took much coin to buy him for my needs, but I knew he knew spell
lore and I needed him for this purpose."
"But..." Stedon began again. 
"He had no choice but to obey me,"
Grothor said with pride. "I own him. I do what I like with him. Isn't that
right, Majok?"
Majok looked adoringly up at Grothor
and nodded. 
"I plan to collar him eventually,"
Grothor said, still sneering down at Majok. "Losing his voice is no great loss.
I like slaves who don't talk back to me!"
The other orcs guffawed. Grothor's
lieutenant pointed at Stedon. 
"What about this one?" His voice was
gruff and grating, like stones drug together in a sack. 
"'This one' owes me an explanation,"
Grothor replied.
Stedon blushed. He re-explained
himself in perfect Orkish for Grothor and his band. He left nothing out - how
he'd saved Grothor's life, how he'd all but worshiped Grothor the next morning
in the cave, his murder of his brother and subsequent flight - everything. 
"Blackmane," Grothor commanded the
long-haired orc with the striated pecs, "Get this human bloodbeer! He's made
his first kill!"
"But is he our slave or isn't he?"
Scar-Eye demanded.  
Grothor turned to regard Stedon. "I
haven't made up my mind, yet. We didn't capture him in a raid." Grothor snickered
down at him. "I don't think it's possible for any of us to rape him." 
Stedon rose to his feet. "Grothor, I
murdered my brother. You're the only family I have any more. Let me serve you.
Take me with you, over the mountains! Show me the ways of the orcs!"
"This is a pink-skin trick!" Scar-Eye
snarled. 
Grothor slammed his fist across his
lieutenant's face. "I buried my cock up his ass, Kreg! I think I would know if
he was lying! " He turned back to Stedon, placed his hands on Stedon's
shoulders. "This is the first human in history who has felt this way about us.
It is something to be handled with cunning. 
For now, he belongs to ME and you will answer to me if he is harmed!"
Stedon hardened in his pants. To
belong to a creature as powerful as Grothor...Stedon could understand why Majok
adored him. Why the other orcs followed him. Blackmane came up behind Stedon
and shoved a horn of dark red liquid into his hand. The horn looked like it had
come from some wild beast. It was bone, the rim still sharp and jagged as the
day it was chopped from its owner. 
"Drink, human," Blackmane boomed,
looming behind him and, Stedon suspected, deliberately standing so the edge of
his crotch bulge touched Stedon's ass. 
Stedon took a sip. His stomach heaved.
It tasted like blood, but with the consistency of syrup. He forced himself to
swallow and detected the distinctive aftertaste of alcohol. Stedon tried his
best not to wretch.
Blackmane laughed and clapped his
back. "We'll make an orc out of you, yet, human!"
The thought nearly crippled Stedon
with a mixture of desire and amazement. His mind reeled with the possibility.
If magic could make him fluent in Orkish...could it do more? Stedon squeezed his
eyes shut and forced himself to guzzle down the rest of the slimy bloody drink.

He came up gasping for fresh air. He
heard Blackmane's chuckle. "I like this human, Grothor."
"My name is Stedon," Stedon said.
Grothor gripped the back of Stedon's
head and growled in his face with a lustful sneer. 
"No. Your name WAS Stedon. But you are
mine, now, human. Property have no names. You are my....pet. To use or share as I
wish. Understand, human?"
Stedon's toes curled and he sampled
the smell of Grothor's exhaled breath. He would have agreed to anything from
such a brutish stud. 
"Good," Grothor grunted. His red eyes
slide sideways to regard the other orcs gathered around. "Now...human...show my men
that I did not exaggerate about you. Show me just how much of an orc slut you
are!"
"Yes...my lord..."Stedon breathed. 
He started with a slow slurp up each
of Grothor's thick, proud tusks. He tasted the orc's gumline and the faint
ridges of his mouth ivory until he reached the dull heavy point, then did the
same to the other. 
"Ohhhh," Grothor exhaled. In seconds,
the mighty orc was hard. 
"My orc," Stedon whispered. He lost
himself to Grothor once again. He crushed his face against those heaving
olive-colored monster pecs, moaning, gnawing on the slightly musky, taught
flesh with his lips and tongue. He found one bloated nipple and began to suckle
at it. 
Grothor's hand on the back of his head
was soothing. It smeared fingers through Stedon's hair. A fat drooling tongue
slurped Stedon's face from the side. Another orc let out a grunt of lust.
Grothor's teasing voice came to Stedon's ear. 
"Human."
"Mmmm?"
"Shall I be a generous master and
share you?"
Stedon looked up into that gorgeous
green tusked face. He turned his head to see Blackmane staring at him, mouth
slightly ajar, all but panting like a dog. Blackmane rolled his huge striated
pecs and wiggles his eyebrows. Stedon slowly smiled. 
"I want to get fucked by every orc
across the mountains!" he cried. 
Blackmane rushed forward with a groan.
Stedon spread his thighs open to welcome him. Grothor held his prize around his
waist, fingers squeezing to part Stedon's ass cheeks while he dove back in to
Stedon's mouth.
Stedon groaned like a cow in heat. He
was trapped. Sandwiched between two massive green-skinned monsters, one
invading his throat, the other crushing his throbbing shaft up his rump. Their
sweaty, bulging bodies massaged him from every side. Stedon could only taste
skin and sweat. Could only smell hot panting breath and warm male musk. 
At some point, the orcs stripped him
naked. Stedon was lost in some timeless void of pleasure. He barely registered it
when he was lowered down beside the fire between two naked and fucking orc
warriors, being fondled and squeezed by their hands, being skewered both front
and back by their shafts. 
All Stedon knew was that he was back
in Grothor's arms and would never have to leave them again. 
Each orc in Grothor's band had their
turn with Stedon in his lean-to that night. Blackmane was Stedon's favorite,
besides Grothor himself. It was obvious the long-haired stud had a secret
fetish for humans just as strong as Stedon's orcish lust. He indulged Stedon in
a thorough exploration of his muscle-bound body, whispering obscene fantasies
to Stedon about the orc race's inevitable rise to power, describing how they
would subjugate the humans in lewd detail. Marjok could say nothing, of course.
He was surprisingly gentle for an orc, and Stedon felt he owed the shaman so
much. Their love making was slow, tender, sensual. Stedon drank cream from
Marjok's dick three times, and would have done more if Marjok hadn't finally
indicated he was satisfied. He gave Stedon a long, grateful look before he
left. 
Kreg burst into the lean to
immediately afterward. He had to enter on all fours, as the rest had, but Kreg
stalked toward Stedon's prone form like a hungry lion. He was already nude and
hard. Stedon could see he sported a pierced shaft, and his bulging, rippling
body was laced with scars from old combats. 
Stedon cringed back from that look,
but Kreg crawled on top of him and growled into his face. "I hate humans. And I
hate weak lovers. And you STINK of human and of fear both!"
"Then why are you here?" Stedon asked.
Kreg's yellow eyes narrowed. "Because
I love hearing you pink-skins scream."
Stedon panicked. He thrust his hands
up against Kreg's heavy pecs and tried to wriggle free. It seemed to be exactly
what Kreg wanted. He pinned Stedon's arms up above his head and started to seek
his hole. 
"If you yell for Grothor or any of the
others," Kreg promised, "I will fuck you until your spine snaps!"
If Stedon had thought Grothor was
savage the first time he'd fucked him, Kreg was far worse. There was no desire
behind his thrusts, other than the desire to claim, to rule, to dominate
weakness. Stedon gave Kreg what he wanted - he screamed and screamed, writhing
under that unyielding body. 
"Beg me not to crush your puny little
skull after I finish raping you!" Kreg roared.
"I beg you, master orc! Spare me! Use
me as you will, but spare me my life!" Stedon howled. And he came. Harder than
he ever had, even with Grothor. 
Helpless under Kreg's assault, Stedon
shuddered out more moans while Kreg spit in his face in contempt. 
"Give me more!" Stedon begged.
"More? You want MORE, human?" Kreg
cried in disbelief. 
"YES! YES! FUCK! More, mighty Kreg!"
Kreg embraced Stedon in crushing,
powerful arms. He rolled onto his back, snarling like a mountain bear. Rocking
his Prince Albert against Stedon's prostate, Kreg backhanded Stedon hard across
the face. 
"I wish Grothor had let me kill you
when you woke!"
"Mmmmmm...hit me again, master orc!"
Kreg slapped his face again. Stedon
tasted his own blood. He leered up at the sweaty yellow-eyed orc. 
"That all you have?"
"You...little..." Kreg hissed and suddenly
they were kissing. 
Stedon devoured that hungry tongue, felt
those tusks scraping painfully at the sides of his mouth. Kreg's nails clawed
into his skin, drawing long bloody scratches that made Stedon fuck the orc's heavy
abs. Stedon bucked his ass up and down Kreg's shaft, ignoring the burning pain
as he sought to prove himself. 
Kreg bellowed and thrashed. The
lean-to collapsed in a shatter of wood. The other orcs, seated around the
campfire, watched with smug expressions as Stedon made the last of their number
explode. 
Stedon collapsed on top of Kreg. Kreg
lay there, panting hard, one hand resting on the back of Stedon's head. 
"Well," he panted and turned to look
at Grothor. "Seems you were right, Grothor. This pink-skin is no assassin."
Kreg looked down at Stedon, raised his chin up to look him in the eyes. "In
fact, he fucks like an orc!"
Stedon fell asleep in a tangle of
naked green bodies. He managed to find Grothor in the pile and clung to his new
master like a newborn babe. His sleep was deep and dreamless. 
Stedon woke up sore, covered in dried
orc spunk and itchy with sweat. He groaned and tried to sit up. His arms were
so stiff he winced and faltered. A pair of warm strong hands guided him the
rest of the way. Sweet Majok smiled at him from behind Stedon's back. Stedon
reached back to cup his cheek and they shared a slurping French kiss. 
Majok gestured for Stedon to wait. He
rose, shamelessly nude, and sauntered past the smoldering camp fire to a nearby
mountain stream. Stedon had as much orc ass to view as he wanted. 
All four of the band sauntered about
the camp in the buff after they woke. They chatted, laughed, and ate,
completely at ease with each other and their great masculine bodies. Stedon
felt unworthy of even being in their presence. 
Grothor caught Stedon looking and
grinned. "Enjoying the view, human?" he teased.
"Oh heavens, yes, my lord!" Stedon
moaned.
"Stop swooning like a whore," Kreg
snarled between mouthfuls of meat from the young stag they had roasting in the
coals. "My ass needs kissing!"
Stedon smirked and crawled over on all
fours. He slid his hands up Kreg's powerful hamstrings and across his plump
round buttocks. He closed his eyes, puckered his lips, and started to press out
smooches to those gently twitching glutes. He let out a slutty sigh and his
smooches became more involved, suckling and half licking affairs. 
Kreg ignored Stedon's attentions as he
conversed with Grothor about their chosen route back to orc territory. Yet
Kreg's cock twitched every time Stedon's lips made contact with his ass.
Grothor listened attentively to his lieutenant. Without breaking their
conversation, he snapped his fingers, beckoned to Stedon and pointed to his
low-hanging emerald ballsac. 
For some reason, the orcs were largely
hairless, including their crotches. It was something to ask Grothor about
later. For now, Stedon was content to suckle on his new lord's juicy green
balls. They tasted slightly of sweat, a lovely salty aftertaste on top of the
soft tang of skin.
"Enough," Grothor said, putting a hand
on Stedon's head.
Stedon backed off but stayed on his
knees until a smirking Grothor told him he could stand again. 
"We march," Grothor announced to his
band.
There was a bustle of activity. The
orcs donned clothes and armor. Grothor permitted Stedon to wear a breechcloth,
but no more. 
"But, my lord," Stedon protested, "if
we're to march through a mountain pass, will it not be cold?"
"Yes, it will," Grothor said. He
grinned and slapped the back of his hand against Stedon's plump pectorals. "I
need to see that my...property...is strong. Nothing weak survives among the orcs."
Stedon raised his head a bit higher.
"Then I will endure."
"Good!" Grothor boomed. "Let us go!" 
The orcs set a grueling pace. Stedon
was used to hard work from the farm, yet he was dripping in sweat after the
first two hours. A mountain wind picked up in the afternoon. Stedon bared his
teeth to keep them from chattering. He tried hugging himself for warmth until
he saw the scorn on Kreg's face. After that, he had to content himself with keeping
his hands clenched at his sides. 
They entered a narrow ravine of
cracked grey stone criss crossed by bands of quartz like frozen lightning. It
was such a tight fit they were forced to move through at single file. No horse
could have hoped to walk it. This had to be one of the secret mountain passes
the orcs used to raid. 
Stedon's body was almost completely
numb by the time they rested for a meal on the other side of the pass. He hoped
one of the orcs would request a snuggle, but they preoccupied themselves with
eating and telling lewd jokes to each other. 
Stedon eased himself down onto a
convenient rock and hunched over against another icy blast of wind. He could
see his breath. The tips of his ears and fingers burned with a cold fire. 
Stedon looked up when a hand rested on
his back. It was Majok. He handed Stedon a bone horn of clear water. The water
steamed. Stedon could feel the warmth of it through the horn. He sipped at it
gratefully. 
Majok pointed to a steaming thermal
spring at the top of a ridge. His eyes were inviting. Stedon clambered after
the shaman and let out a long sigh of relief when he slid into the volcanic
water. 
Majok joined him and sat behind
Stedon, working feeling back into Stedon's cramped and frozen back, down his
arms. Stedon was starting to love the feeling of the orcs' big brutish hands on
him. He kissed Majok's knuckles by way of thanks. 
Foosteps announced the arrival of
company. Majork winked at Stedon, then moved to the middle of the steam and
bowed his head, touching his fists together in front of his chest. 
"I knew it," Kreg sneered from where
he stood at the edge of the pool. "The puny human can't take the naked
elements. Look, he's content to soak himself and preen the first chance he
gets!"
Blackmane came up beside Kreg and
cuffed the back of his head. "Fool! Majok meditates to auger our way ahead for
us! The human probably just followed him. You know how curious they are about
everything."
Kreg didn't challenge Blackmane, but
he fixed Stedon with one yellow eye. He would be watching for any other signs
of weakness. Stedon burned with shame. As much as the pool had been a wonderful
balm, now it only seemed to highlight the difference between him and the
orcs.  Kreg was right. He was weak. 
Stedon lost himself to brooding for
the rest of the day's journey. At least that kept the feel of the chill off.
The orcs built a tall fire, more confident now that they were back in lands
their people controlled. They took blades to the local trees to fashion a
shelter big enough for them all to sleep inside together for warmth. 
"Let me take a watch," Stedon said. 
Grothor and the other orcs looked at
him and at each other. 
"Can you fight?" Grothor asked.
Stedon shook his head. He gave Grothor
a coy look. "I can scream well, though."
The orcs bellowed laughter at that.
None of them seemed ready to object to getting some extra rest at Stedon's
expense. In another hour, the fire was a fine bed of coals and the orcs were a
slumbering pile of massive green muscle. 
Stedon sat beside the fire. He gazed
down the slope of the mountain to the tree line and the jagged mountain valley
beyond. Somewhere out there lay other bands of orcs, and possibly entire cities
of them. No one knew much about how orcs ruled themselves. Most assumed they
lived in a kind of half-anarchy, preying as much on each other as on human
settlements. But Grothor was remarkably intelligent, and skilled at inspiring
loyalty. 
Stedon's thoughts drifted back to
earlier in the day. Kreg wasn't blinded by lust the way Grothor was. Stedon was
a diversion, nothing more. At the end of the day, he was dispensable. Or worse,
a liability because of his human frailties. 
Stedon sighed to himself and stirred
the coals. He was a man without a people, now. A murderer to humans. A traitor
to his family. A curiosity to the orcs to whom he had pledged his fealty. When
he'd first left home, Stedon had been content to be used. Now, alone with his
thoughts, creeping doubts stole upon him. What if Grothor should tire of him?
Most likely, he would die. Stedon doubted Grothor would kill him, but other
orcs certainly would as a matter of course. 
But what did a lowly human peasant
have to offer an orc war band? A wind swirled dust and frost up the mountain in
a dancing column. Stedon rubbed his arms, blew into his hands. He put a hand
over one bicep and flexed it, a habit he'd acquired during his years of
exercising. His arms had grown noticeably in the last year. Stedon wondered how
the orcs came to be so universally built. Surely they had their own methods of
training. He would ask Grothor about it in the morning, Stedon decided.
Having given himself a task, Stedon
felt content to let the hours pass. He was surprised when Blackmane came to
relieve him. 
"You must be tired," Blackmane said.
"I could watch until dawn," Stedon
lied. Blackmane chuckled.
"You are a bad liar, human.  I can see the fatigue in every move you make.
You are no use to us exhausted."
"As you command," Stedon said.
Blackmane pulled Stedon next to him before Stedon could leave. 
"I have always wanted to dominate a
human as an orc is dominated," he husked in Stedon's ear. "You gave me that,
little human. I will not forget it." He turned Stedon's face to his. "You need
not fear for your future. Grothor owes you his life. I do not. My desire for
you is more pure than his."
"What are you saying, Blackmane?"
Stedon asked.
Blackmane pulled him into a slow,
tongue-filled kiss that left Stedon hungry for more. 
"Grothor may abandon you in time. I
never will. I wanted you the moment Grothor dragged you into camp."
Stedon's eyes filled with tears of
gratitude. He turned his head away, fought for control. Blackmane grabbed his
chin and turned his face back. He slowly licked the tears away and gave Stedon
a wink. 
"The next time we camp," Blackmane
promised in a low, seductive voice, "we will explore more of your desires."
"I'd like that," Stedon said. "Though
I wish Grothor felt the same."
"We all desire him. That is only
right. He is warmaster."
"When I met him on the mountainside
with the rest of you, I thought...." Stedon ventured. "...he told me he would come
back for me."
"Grothor has claimed you. As he
claimed me, and Kreg, and Majok. He bested you and thus had right of claim upon
you. He bested me after I challenged him to a horse race, and took me upon the
mountainside while a mighty storm raged around us. I swore myself to him as we
climaxed together."
"That sounds beautiful," Stedon
breathed. Blackmane nodded.
"What about Kreg?" 
"Kreg was the warmaster of a rival
band. Grothor defeated him in mortal combat and offered him his life if Kreg
would serve him."
"And Majok?"
"Ah, his brother."
Stedon blanched. "M..Majok is his
BROTHER?" 
"Of course. It is obvious!" Blackmane
said. Then he grunted in acknowledgement. "Well, perhaps not to a human."
"B..but..Grothor and Majok,
they...they..."
"Do humans not explore their first
sexual yearnings with their siblings?" Blackmane asked.
"No! Gods, no!" Stedon cried. 
Blackmane snorted. "No wonder you
humans are weak. You do not unleash your passions. You try to tame your desires
rather than pursue them. You deny yourself pleasure."
"I haven't," Stedon protested. "I
wanted to be with you, and I killed my own brother in order to do it."
"It was the most orcish thing you have
ever done," Blackmane said. 
Stedon felt a strange warm pleasure at
that. 
"I'd like to learn more about orcs,"
Stedon said. "Would you teach me?"
Blackmane smirked. "You will learn
soon enough."
"I know. But I want to be more than a
mere toy to you. I want to contribute to the strength of the band."
"Learn what we like, then. And give it
to us. That is your place until Grothor says otherwise."
Stedon nodded, gazing at his feet.
Blackmane regarded him. "An orc would be content with as much."
"Would he? It occurs to me that orcs
are not true orcs without ambition," Stedon said. 
"All orcs strive to conquer
something," Blackmane agreed. He pointed at Stedon. "You must conquer your
human weaknesses. You must become what we wish of you. Only then will it be
possible to become more."
"I understand," Stedon said. 
"Sleep well, then," Blackmane
dismissed him. 
Blackmane planted the butt of a black
iron spear in the ground and sat on the same rock Stedon had, ready to watch
until dawn. 
"Blackmane, may I ask one more thing
of you before I go?" Stedon said.
Blackmane gestured for him to do so
with a grunt of assent.
"How do you and the others become so
big and strong? I have had to work hard for years, and my body is but a pale
shadow of yours," Stedon asked.
Blackmane gave him a curious glance. 
"We grow strong because we live hard.
Fight hard. Celebrate hard."
Stedon drew closer. "But surely there
must be actions you take. Training you undergo to build your strength, your
muscles."
"It is true we drill with weapons
under a teacher for many years before we are permitted to fight him for our
right to be men."
Stedon felt his frustration mounting.
"I am talking about lifting weights, Blackmane. Pushing your body to the limits
of its strength and then building it back up again with well-planned meals.
Things like that."
Blackmane cocked his head. "You speak
funny words, little human. A thing can HAVE weight. It cannot BE weight."
Realization slowly came. Stedon stared
at Blackmane. Blackmane, who had a body any human warrior would envy, and had
it by virtue of his orc blood alone. Bear had told Stedon how he suspected
different men had different muscular potential, depending on the strength of
the stock they came from, in much the same way a given oxen might be larger or
stronger than another. If that was true, then it seemed orcs had the greatest
quality of blood one could imagine. Stedon saw the chance he had been looking
for. 
"Go and sleep, human," Blackmane
ordered. "You confuse me."
Stedon obeyed without another word. He
took Blackmane's advice to heart and wriggled his way into the middle of the
pile of nude orc flesh until he wrapped his mouth around Grothor's limp cock.
He looked upward to see Grothor nearly purring as he smiled in his sleep.
Stedon suckled on it gently, as if he were a babe going to sleep at his
mother's breast. And sleep he did.

Source: https://sofurry.com/view/933154