My nervous sergeant stands at attention as I glower down at him. Young, still puny, barely done suckling his mother's teat, he had sohow seen himself fit to enlist in the Pillars of Strife free company. So recruiter must have seen sothing in the boy to sign him on as a sergeant, but whatever it was, I have yet to see it. Perhaps nepotism is to bla, but I thought we orcs were above such disgraceful practices. I can feel my countenance harden as I continue to inspect the poor lad, his sweat upon his brow evident as he all but cowers while still maintaining eye contact.
"You call that a clean and serviceable uniform, sergeant?" I half ask, half state as I lean towards him so as to be more imposing.
"Ma'am, Captain Jericho, ma'am!" he tries to bark out, but it sounds more like a yelp at the start. He gulps profusely before continuing, barely avoiding stamring as he answers. "My uniform was clean this morning, but I tackled an escaped sheep this morning. I-"
"That doesn't answer my question, sergeant!" I bark back with real ferocity and weight to my words as the sergeant leans away from ever so slightly. "Have you forgotten how to answer in the affirmative or negative?"
"No, ma'am!" He pauses for a mont before my raised eyebrow prompts him to continue. "No, ma'am, my uniform is not clean and serviceable."
"Well then, it only seems right that your n match so you don't look out of place. Follow , sergeant."
"Proceeding, ma'am!" he sounds off as I saunter my way over to the barracks. My pace may seem leisurely to onlookers, but considering my height, I need to maintain a slow gate so my subordinate can keep pace with his hurried steps.
The barracks, like all buildings in camp, is made of stone, the all-wooden buildings of the camp being a thing of the past ever since the dragon decided to make a change. Perhaps the fire hazard presented by a wooden town had been too pressing of a concern that he upped his ga. As I approach the door, a glare from to my sergeant impresses upon him that he should open it for .
"Room, tench'huuut!" he barks out with a spark of renewed confidence in his voice.
Bodies start spilling out of bunks as n and won of different races, still in their smallclothes, line up in two orderly rows on each side of the barracks. They stand at attention as I make my way down the line. I didn't even make it four steps before a pair of fully laced boots caught my attention. While they were in the correct spot beneath the bed, they conveyed a problem.
"Are those your boots, soldier?" I ask the human male in front of . Well-built for his kind, most likely a farm hand, but otherwise still puny.
"Ma'am, Captain Jericho, ma'am, I don't know which boots you are referring to.
Not missing a beat, I grab him by the waist and pick him up, his body still at attention. I effortlessly manhandle him and take a step over to the boots in question, such that his body, still stiff as a board, finds itself with his face re inches from his boots.
"Ma'am, affirmative."
"Do you see any problem with your boots, private?"
"Ma'am, they are dirty."
"What else, private?"
Silence follows for a mont as he has no answer. I give him one shake before he pipes up.
"Ma'am, the private does not know."
I step back and address the female elf to his left.
"You, private, can you help your comrade out?"
"Ma'am, Captain Jericho, ma'am. His laces have not been loosened such that he can slip on his boots at a mont's notice."
"Correct. Why did you let your comrade go to bed with his boots fully laced, private?"
"Ma'am," the elf continues as her body starts to tremble. "The private did not know her comrade's boots were in such disarray."
"Sergeant!" I bark out loud and clear, even though he stood right next to .
"Ma'am!" he replies as he stands a little straighter.
"Be sure to rediate your troops today. I expect to not see any boots out of place tomorrow."
"Affirmative, ma'am."
I swivel the man in my arms around until I have him in a princess carry. My ears detect so snickering in the background, which I will address in a mont.
"Your comrade's life is a precious thing, private," I continue as I address the elf again. "If he is in need of your assistance, you will swoop him up into your arms and care for him if need be. Arms up!" I shout as I hand the man in my arms over to the elf.
She accepts him into her arms, likewise in a princess carry, her limbs trembling from both fear of and from the exertion of trying to hold a man at least half again her size.
I then turn my attention over towards the direction of where I heard the snickering before continuing my browbeating. I find the culprit and march over to stand before him. A remnimi male, he actually cos up to my height, even if he is perhaps half my weight. He has the lithe figure of a hunter, not the mountain of muscle that a true warrior possesses.
"Sothing amuses you, private."
"Ma'am, Captain Jericho, ma'am. Negative," he responds in a voice quiet enough that the entire barracks cannot hear him.
"Do you have any balls, private?"
"Ma'am?" he asks, uncertain of my question.
"Do you have testicles?"
"Last I checked, ma'am."
I could feel the bodies of everyone stiffen as the shitling gave a flippant answer.
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"Allow to check for you, just to be certain."
His eyes bulge in surprise as a groan escapes his mouth after I grab him by the family jewels and apply pressure. I have enough experience by now to know the exact limits of what a man can take before I inflict damage, and if I just so happen to go too far, the healers could always use the practice. Even when he falls to his knees with high pitched squeals from my ministrations, I don't let up.
"Well, there is sothing there. Overly large pimples, perhaps. Should I pop them just to be safe, private?"
"Negative, ma'am," he screams out while knees all around the room reflexively bend inward to protect their own valuables and with empathy for their comrade who is learning a harsh lesson.
"It looks like you learned how to sound off like you got a pair. Rember that next ti."
"Affirmative, ma'am!"
I give a mont of an extra hard squeeze so he rembers it and not at all because I secretly enjoy it. The non-orcs just can't take very much abuse to their bodies, a fact that has disappointed on more than one occasion. I stand up to address the room as I leave the whimpering private on the floor.
"Listen up, shitlings!" I shout as I take asured strides down the center of the room. "We are going to the training yard today. Maybe so sense will get knocked into so of you by day's end, and if not, tomorrow is always another opportunity. It doesn't matter if your shit is squared away if your comrade next to you is all manner of fucked up. I don't care if you have been blessed by the gods themselves, nothing you do matters if your comrade falls behind. Do I make myself clear?"
"Affirmative, ma'am!" the room rings out in a chorus of agreent.
"Sergeant, take over. I expect all of them to be ford up at the training yard in five."
The sun was nearly down by the ti we finished our training day. I could barely contain my disgust at how I had been given raw recruits instead of seasoned veterans to guard the camp. We were in the middle of hostile wilderness, building a road that would facilitate saving the very world we know from annihilation, and I got a bunch of shitlings. I didn't ask how the Pillars of Strife were not in violation of our contract, but I would be damned if I would let those under continue to fail to impress.
As I made my way to my own quarters, my eyes caught a most inviting sight. Though the sun threatened to set any mont now, the last rays it cast off still managed to illuminate the specin before , one I had not seen before. Broad of shoulder and tall of height, the orc stood with axe in hand as he split wood, the mountain of kindling behind him a testant to his efforts, yet, not a bead of sweat could be found in his brow despite his exertion. He must have great Skills to pull that off.
Intrigued, I approached the individual. He wore blue pants that were not quite long enough for his legs, the tightness of them clearly showing off the contours of his body, especially where the legs of the pants joined. The gods had been generous in their bestownt upon him. His red flannel shirt was likewise stretched to the limit, and the shaless slut had his sleeves rolled up of all things, as if the whole world needed to see his impressive forearms.
The showoff even had so Ability to levitate the next piece of wood in place for his axe, which I guess should be expected of an experienced [Lumberjack].
"I haven't seen you around here before. And here I thought I knew all the big strong orcs around."
Dammit, why did I co on so hard? I'm not so thirsty debutante making her first rounds. Thankfully, [Officer's Composure] helps maintain my countenance at my blunder.
"I suppose that is to be expected," he responds as he stands upright, his axe propped up on one shoulder while he grabs the other end just before the head with his other hand. His pose clearly presented his bulging biceps for my purview and his barrel chest strained at the buttons that struggled to contain his form. "I am new around here."
He chuckled for so reason, and caught up in his mirth, I laughed along with him. That was when the topmost button of his shirt surrendered to the inevitable stresses imposed upon it by his shaking chest and went flying off sowhere. He paused in laughing for a second, and then continued laughing uproariously. As he finished laughing, he made eye contact with , only to lean his head up and to the right, which exposed his neck and part of his shoulder to .
What an absolute slut! That could be a sign of submission if he were clearly weaker than , but with our body sizes being comparable, that is absolutely a blatant invitation for sex.
Does he expect to take him right here and now, for that is how he is presenting himself. And yet, his face betrays no such intent, as if he innocently doesn't know what he is doing. Sohow, that gets all the more hot and bothered to tackle him and do just that. With mounting difficulty, I suppress that desire while extending an invitation.
"The pleasure is mine," I respond as a smile lights upon my lips. "I am Captain Jericho of the Pillars of Strife. There is a tea party tomorrow night at town hall, invitation only. You could be my plus-one," I finish as I struggle to not bite my bottom lip. What is getting into today?
"I'll take you up on that offer. What is the dress code?"
Taken aback by his reply, I struggle to understand how such an impressive specin has not been to a tea party before.
"Orcish formal, naturally. Whatever constitutes as formal for your tribe."
He eyes up and down once, his gaze lingering for a mont on my prominent chest, much as most n's and so won's do. If he continues to undress with his eyes I might blush, but his gaze doesn't remain in hiatus long enough to be impolite.
"I look forward to it, Jericho," he smiles as he casually stretches, which only goes to further showcase his mountain of a figure.
Berxerxes' fangs, I want this guy to bite here and now! "Alright then, see you there an hour after sundown."
"See you there," he replies as I quickly stroll off to get my things and take a cold bath.
Well that went well. I seem to have made a good impression on Captain Jericho, and I have only heard of her just now, so doubtless she knows nothing of how I moonlight as an orc. I did just what Nanu said. Sleeves rolled up to show I have no hidden weapons, tight clothes to show the sa, neck turned away after a greeting to demonstrate I an no harm. I think I nailed it! I even put my axe up on my shoulders and held it in a posture that kept loosely prepared for battle, but incapable of responding well to an imdiate threat, which showed as competent yet inviting.
I have no idea what an orcish tea party is, or even that orcs had tea parties, but I am excited to go. Shapeshifting into the body of one species or another imparts so level of understanding of fitness and sexual attraction, and I could tell that she was quite the looker for an orc. Gods she was strong! Probably not a smidge of fat on that fra. She was almost as tall as , probably around 6'6", or 198 cm for those who use that asuring system. If only the gods could stick to one system of asurent.
And to use Chooka's words, those bazongas! I thought her lower canines protruded upwards just right, but Jericho's chest threatened to redefine perfection. I don't know why, but when she looked at , I could sense her hunger. Not just in a re sexual way, but I am pretty sure she was one double tap of raised eyebrows on my part away from biting .
Hmm, sothing to think about I guess. Either way, I'm done here since I made an orc friend. With no one else around, I could surreptitiously suck all the wood into my pocket dinsion. Good thing I ca along with so pre-chopped wood, otherwise my pile may not have been impressive enough to reel her in.
"Hey Skull, any idea on the etiquette of an orcish tea party?" I ask my companion in my shadow?
"Not at all. They are very secretive about such things. All I know is that it is by invitation only and only for orcs." I could sense her frustration at such past disappointnts on the topic. "I've always wanted to go, but I have never been invited."
"Hmm, well considering Berxerxes himself gave you his blessing, I am sure that it will not cause too much of an uproar if you pop out of my shadow during the party."
"Could be, could be," she replies noncommittally. "I have noticed how orcs stare at when I am openly walking around with you. They show ample respect, so perhaps that is good enough to have a standing invitation."
"One way to find out. Let's go ho for now. I need to make new clothes, preferably ones that fit better. I feel like I could rip my way out of these clothes if I take one wrong step."
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