ORVAR

“I was just talking to the women,” Betsy said after Ston had called out for her. “What do you want? Why did you call for me?”

“You were talking mean about me, woman,” he replied.

“Of course, I was, you bonehead. I have to mark my territory, don’t I? Those gals shouldn’t think they can have you as a breeder. No, no, no. Because you’re mine, Ston.”

Jarla barked out a laugh. “I don’t think any of them want him, Bets.”

Ston himself agreed, nodding. “And besides that, why would I ever want any of them if I have such a fine wife myself?” he asked. “One who is so beautiful and so sweet...” He stood behind his pregnant wife’s back, folded his arms around her, and grabbed her tits in his hands, giving them a squeeze.

Betsy slapped him away. “Oh, fuck off, you dirty orc,” she replied, chuckling.

Ston tried to cop another feel. “Just look how filled they are already. They’re full of fat, creamy milk for our son.”

“I already told you I don’t know if it’s a boy!” Betsy rolled her eyes. “I… I just don’t want you to be disappointed...”

I had to admit that for a woman, and a human, Betsy was alright. She’d stolen the hearts of many orcs since her first arrival at Asclan Peaks. She was the first one who didn’t look at us with disgust.

“You will never disappoint me, wife,” Ston said, convinced. He softly patted her belly and she allowed it.

Betsy had never left us since her first visit. She was also the first woman who wanted one of us of her own free will. I know my brothers worshiped Ston for that. And maybe I did too.

After her, more women stayed, but they never loved an orc the way Betsy loved Ston. They mostly stayed here for their babies or because they hated their lives in their hometown.

Living among us, their primary task was to help with the little ones. A warm female touch would help them, and they could grow much stronger on women’s milk instead of goat’s milk. In exchange, I kept an eye on my men. They were not to bother them.

“We’ll see what pops out of my cunt in a few days, love,” Betsy replied before she kissed Ston on his cheek. She then turned to me. “Orvar, there are some fine women this year, don’t you agree?” she asked while poking into my side with her elbow. “Have you seen the one with the dark curls and blue eyes?”

“I have,” I replied, looking at the shrew as we spoke. She had beautiful hair indeed.

“She’s a fine choice to take to your bed tonight,” Betsy continued. “Good hair, good skin, good body. Though, I have to say I like that other girl more. The one over there.” She cocked her head at another girl.

At her. The one I had my eyes on for the last hour.

“You like her?” I asked.

“Yeah! She seems…different from the others.” Betsy sighed. “But I guess none of you really want her, hm? Because of her hair. So I suppose she’s the second choice.”

I ignored Betsy’s question and turned to the other orcs.

“About the black-haired, curly one: I forbid any of you to choose her—” I replied in our language, raising my voice so every orc in the room could hear me.

“But Orvar!” Vildon interrupted as soon as he’d slurped down his food. “I’m the recruit this year. Don’t I get to have the first choice? Why do you get the one that has the prettiest hair?”

Jarla smacked the boy against the back of his head. “You little greedy bastard! Who is your commander? Hm?”

“I will not have her either,” I answered. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want our sons tainted with bad genes.”

“Bad genes? What in the bloody hell are you speaking of, commander?” Jarla asked. “She looks good to me.”

I looked at her victim and still felt rage thinking about how that bitch had chopped off her hair.

Among orcs, hair is a sign of fertility and fertile women are what we most desire. Their cunts to take our seed and their wombs to nurture our sons is all we need from them. To us, good healthy hair equals good fertility. But these women are not only the vessels that have to carry our sons, they also pass their genes to our offspring, and there are more important things besides healthy hair.

Of course, we don’t know these women and can never know all their habits and traits. We have to go with our gut feeling too. I saw what this one bitch was capable of.

“She’s a traitor…and I don’t want any sons of ours to be born with such genes and stab us in the back when they’re older…”

“Huh?” Jarla scratched the top of his head.

“Betsy,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Explain the procedure to them. They’re almost done eating, so we will start soon.”

“Of course, Orvar. I was about to do that before my husband needed some attention again,” Betsy replied before heading towards the women.

The procedure was quite simple. The women were to stand in lines as a list of names was called out. If a woman shared any of the same last names, she had to take a step back, for an orc can never lay with a woman that shares his name. We need strong sons and the same blood tie could produce weaklings instead.

The women that hadn’t stepped back were up for grabs.

The first bunch of orcs would get the first choice. I shouldn’t give Vildon a choice anymore after his blatant behavior, but it was custom that the youngsters had first choice, so I was going to overlook his behavior this one time.

While gulping down the content of my drinking horn, I wondered what her last name was. Mine was uncommon, so the chance was slim we shared the same. I also wondered what her first name was. I’d been wondering about that ever since I first laid eyes on her...

She smiled at Betsy while they talked. Sure, the woman was less attractive now, but I knew better. I’d seen her before and she’d been perfect. She had the most beautiful hair and hips wider than most—surely wide enough to bear my son. Her eyes were clear and shiny. She was healthy and seemed strong. She was close to perfection. Older. Riper. Ready to take the load I’d been saving for two weeks.

I could already picture her flat tummy being round and full…

“And one other thing!” I shouted in orc-tongue. “That woman Betsy is talking to right now. You will not choose her either!”

“Bad genes too, hm?” Jarla asked.

“Yes, I understand that. She sure is ugly as a goat and fruitless too,” Vildon added.

“Shut up, little dwarf, or I will choose your woman for the night!” I said before I punched the boy in the stomach.

“What the h-hell, Orvar,” he replied between coughs.

~

Half an hour later, the women stood in line and my men were anxiously waiting, their cocks probably ready and rigid in their pants. I could almost smell the scent of their leaking, eager seed.

“Lionrock!” Betsy called out.

A bunch of women stepped back. She did too. So she was a Lionrock, like Vildon and Jarla were, both big and strong orcs.

“Well, little booger,” Jarla said in orc-tongue. “Which one are you gonna breed? Which one of them will have the pleasure to be stuffed with an orc’s first ever cum in pussy?”

“Hm…” Vildon hummed, taking a step forward and walking alongside the long line of women. “Why are you crying?” he asked one of them, the one standing in the middle. She was a young woman with red hair like autumn leaves. She would be a fine choice. She was a little fearful maybe, but most women were, especially the new ones.

“I w-wasn’t crying…” the redhead answered, her voice trembling.

“Aren’t you fond of my pretty face?” Vildon asked, teasingly. He grabbed her hand and slammed it against his cheek. The girl was clearly startled at their touch. “What is your name?”

“Hetta H-Hanson.”

“Hetta…Fine. I’ll take you,” he shouted, grabbing her arms, picking her up, and flipping her over his shoulder.

“Got that, Betsy?” I asked, standing next to her while she sat with a notebook and quill in her hand. I held the torch above her so she had enough light.

“Yup. Vildon Lionrock breeds Hetta Hanson,” she replied, while I watched her writing their names down on paper.

“Next,” I ordered my men. “And don’t try to make a fucking show out of it like our young Vildon did. Choose who you want, take her out of line, and wait for my orders. We don’t have all night for fuck’s sake.”