Age of the Orc - 11

Then
18 Mar 2019, Fourth Age
13:13:11

Zoch had drawn a privacy screen around the bottom level for Morgrir's pre-prep examination. It was less for Morgrir's privacy than for Zoch's peace of mind. None of the milling technicians on the upper levels needed to see as Zoch carefully ran the handheld sensor over every inch of Morgrir's bare skin, checking for any discontinuities. Anything that might interfere with the Big Jump in one week's time.

More importantly, no one would hear what the creche-siblings had to say to one another, their voices muffled and soft.

"That...Halfling," Morgrir said at last. "You don't actually fuck her, do you?"

It was a weird question to ask as Zoch was scanning the other Orc's cock. The uncut prick hung there, bigger limp than Zoch was hard. The smell was...pungent.

"We need her for the work, brother," Zoch said, voice neutral. "No one else will room with her."

"Good. She probably won't survive the great restructuring. Once I change history." There was a note in Morgrir's voice that Zoch hadn't heard before. Oddly distant. Speculative.

The scanner beeped. Without asking, Zoch carefully lifted the warm, limp dick and frowned at the small metal bar that pierced the skin on the underside, just near the base. "This is new."

"You like it?" Morgrir said, amusement in his voice. "I thought you might appreciate that all your scanning wasn't for nothing."

"It has to come out," Zoch said. The Orc scientist laid the scanner down on the floor and, holding the cock up with one hand, gently unscrewed one metal sphere from the end of the piercing. "Cybernetics that are an integral part of the body or connected to the nervous system are integrated into the fëa, but simple cosmetic jewelry isn't. If you tried going back in time with this, they'd explode—and take most of your crotch with it."

"How considerate of you," Morgrir said, as the piercing came free. Leaving only a small, puckered hole.

Then Morgrir's hand closed on the top of Zoch's head.

"You know, brother, I've spent a lot of time thinking lately," Morgrir said. Zoch watched the cock, mere inches away, twitch. Grow. The other Orc's thigh muscles were bunching and unbunching, hips moving slightly. Pumping blood into Morgrir's dick. "About all the things I won't get to experience, once I travel back. All the opportunities lost. You and I will never meet again."

"Morgrir, let go of me," Zoch said, voice still low to avoid causing attention, and struggled to escape. Yet Morgrir was bigger, stronger, and used to such games. His nails dug into Zoch's skull as he dragged the smaller Orc's face forward, to mash his creche-sibling's lips against his hardening prick.

"I waited, you know. Waited for you to finally realize your place. I didn't drag you to the breeding pits, even though I could have. Never took you in the dormitory, though no one would have denied it as my right. All those long years you were away, I endured. The training, the surgeries. I built myself into the kind of Orc hero that we used to read about in comic books!"

With an effortless fling, Zoch was tossed aside, knocking down a part of the privacy screen. The smaller Orc sprawled on top of the fallen fabric. Morgrir was on Zoch in an instant. One hand tangled in Zoch's long hair. The other tore at the Orc's pants. Cloth ripped, but the leather belt held, **** Zoch's thighs together, even as Morgrir **** the smaller Orc's arm behind the back.

Some of the technicians above stopped and looked. They saw what was happening.

Then they turned away.

The last small kindness was a wet spackle of spit that dribbled between Zoch's ass-cheeks before the head of Morgrir's cock pushed against the small hole. Zoch fought against the urge to struggle. Knew that the pain and damage would be worse. Instead, the smaller Orc **** the anus to relax. To not squeeze tight against the invader.

"Once, I wished you had been born a girl, brother. I dreamed of breeding you so many times. But Morgoth had another use for you, for both of us. Through you, and your marvelous invention, I will be the savior of the Orcs. And you..."

Zoch couldn't muffle the scream as Morgrir's cock ripped through the unresisting asshole. The smaller Orc unable to cease the contraction that ran through their body. Squeezing Morgrir's cock tight. Nor did the larger Orc stop until his balls slammed against Zoch's smaller, weaker testes.

"Scream if you like, brother," Morgrir said, voice triumphant, luxuriating in the pleasures of Zoch's asshole. "The guards might hear you, but they won't interfere. This is how it was meant to be. The strong taking the weak. The weak worshipping the strong with their bodies and minds. We are prisoners of destiny, and all that matters is that we play our parts. I, to return to the moment when the war was lost, and initiate the Age of the Orc. It will be the end of history, and the beginning of a new and darker chapter of Middle Earth. A new future for our people! And no one cares what happens to you, so long as that happens."

The words hurt almost as much as the steel-hard prick that began to slide in and out of Zoch's well-trained asshole. Eevin had teased and toyed with Zoch's hole, but never with this kind of rapacious, agonizing ****. Long, hard strokes that made Zoch's entire body quake. That brought tears streaming from the smaller Orc's eyes.

This was everything that Zoch had sought to avoid, had run from, in the dormitory. The fate of weaker Orcs, used and abused by the strong. A hollow, aching emptiness opened in Zoch's heart in realization that Morgrir was right. Boldog cared nothing for Zoch, for all his gifts and little favors. Zoch was no more than a tool in the maiar's plan, a means to an end—and now that the time machine was built, an utterly disposable one.

It was Morgrir that mattered. Morgrir, who had been trained, intiatied, inculated with such a sense of Orc superiority, into the dream of being the savior. Who had been denied nothing. Who would not deny himself anything.

Wet smacks echoed in the empty room. The technicians continued their work, pointedly ignoring what was happening at the lowest level.

When Morgrir finished, in a hot spray of seed that spattered across Zoch's lower back, he rose and stared down at the quivering buttocks.

"Just think," Morgrir said softly. "How many times I passed up that opportunity. How long I tolerated your resistance. Yet it was always inevitable. And when you remember me brother, do not remember all those long years I spared you. Such weakness I cannot afford. Remember me as I am now. The personification of Orc strength. Willing and able to take what I want."

Morgrir put on the robe and stepped over Zoch, to climb the stairs back toward the entrance. Face flushed darkly with shame, Zoch pulled pants up...and then the Orc scientist saw the shiny shoes, the suit. Smelled the thin, dark cigarillo.

As Zoch pulled themselves into a standing position, Boldog pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to the Orc. It was then that Zoch felt the pain, tasted the blood where fangs had bitten into lips.

"It was necessary," Boldog said, the voice cold and hard. "You're smart, you understand, don't you? This was Morgrir's final test. The proof that he is a true Orc. Not driven by any sentimentality or weakness. That he will do whatever needs to be done to effect the change. The Elders thought we should order him to kill you, but I thought this was more fitting, given Morgrir's psychological profile."

The maiar took a small puff on the cigarillo. The shock of the semi-public humiliation gave way to a kind of cold, creeping numbness that was worse than the pain and sticky wetness that ran down Zoch's taint. Boldog hadn't just let this happen. Boldog had planned this.

Boldog gave a small, cold smile.

"Why do you think we tolerated all your little...eccentricities? We needed your expertise, yes, but it was—is—your connection to Morgrir that has made this project, that will make the Age of the Orc possible. That long hair, living with that Halfling, helped to reinforce your image as effeminate. Unworthy of respect. A target for superior Orc masculinity. With this act, Morgrir has outgrown everything that might have held him back. Now, thanks to you, the success of this mission is assured."

Boldog laid an almost fatherly hand on Zoch's shoulder. Zoch wiped the tears from their eyes. Head bowed, like a good, meek, obedient weakling Orc. Morgrir walked with Zoch as they exited the lab. The technicians would pick up the fallen privacy screen. Would clean up the cum and blood that had dripped onto the floor.

Only Zoch's body would bear any signs of the sexual ****. A part of Zoch wondered how many of them had known. Known, and done nothing, said nothing.

For the first time in a long time, Zoch wondered at what the whole world would look like if it was run like Mordor Cybernetics.