Saturday

Thankfully, John managed to stay distracted for most of the night. His attention span, his thoughts, didn't get a chance to turn away from the bed he had been thrown into or the green Orc **** who had mounted him while he was atop it. Urga somehow took the stressful beginning of his night away, and within a few simple movements, she created the only goal that seemed to matter to John for what seemed like hours. It was hard for him to tell while they were still inside the kingdom, time passed differently there.

Days were shorter while inside the kingdom and nights, he realized, actually seemed longer for some reason, but after the tent closed behind them, the only thing that was important to him was making her cum... making her drool with as much bliss as he could give her.

For the longest while, Urga even seemed to share similar goals for the night. She didn't get up or pull away. She just rode him, until the gathering sensitivity in her body started to make her whimper and her legs could barely manage to gather the strength needed to thrust back against him. Still, they only stopped when John told her she was done, and even then, she separated from him with a poorly hidden, ditzy grin on her face and stumbled out of the tent, cum-drunk and still on the verge of purring like some kind of happy feline. The only excuse he got from her for leaving was that she needed another drink, and she actually even threw him back down on the bed before he could try to lovingly wrap his arms around her.

There was no cuddling, no affection after the fact, she had already drowned in more than enough of his attention. She just needed a moment to fall back down from her orgasmic high.

Unfortunately, the rest of the night wasn't spent with his mom. Brenda, upon seeing John and Urga together, simply walked into the tent, laid her head down to rest, and passed out. He considered waking her up to try and finish off the rest of the sexual energy that his body had given him for the day, but he decided against it. It would have been rude to wake her up, she was already doing so much to help Urga. Instead, he just nuzzled up against her, slipping his cock between the damp heat of her warm thighs before he eventually passed out too.

He didn't stay asleep for long. His body didn't need him to, and after laying his head down upon the pillow, he was almost immediately struck by flashes of... something. Lucid images appeared in his head, for the first time since he had received his powers, but they weren't clear. They were hazy and flickered into his consciousness for only a couple fractions of a second before they were gone again. The ones that remained the longest, the ones he could remember... they practically burned into his memory.

The one he remembered the most, though, was a simple face.

The main image he saw had no solid form to it. It wasn't a part of a person, because it had no body, no skin... It was made of wisps, large, foggy strands of white, acrid smoke and red-hot fire that writhed and entwined together until they formed a ghastly cloud that just seemed to hang above him in the air. It didn't move, it didn't speak, or look around. It just hung above him, yawning open further and further like a skull that had been stretched and distorted beyond physical limits. It remained... and it focused on him.

It was angry. He could almost feel it bubbling and burning with the same kind of familiar rage that ignited in his own chest at times.

The worst part was that it was angry at him... and then the image was gone again.

When John finally woke up, most of the night had already passed him by. His mother was also awake but nowhere to be found inside of the tent; Urga hadn’t come back either, and he was left alone, lying in the mess he had helped to make on the fur bed. He slowly got up, groaned at the shredded mess Urga had made his clothes into, and crawled his way up to the tent's entrance. The ground lightly squished and shifted beneath his feet as he moved, making John groan loudly as he stumbled forward to peek out, and then he finally noticed it.

The camp's attitude had shifted, again.

In the past, when John had screwed his mother in the tent, the citizens and slaves of the tribe seemed to gather around his tent and actions to hear of his prowess. They basked in the actions made by their own people, and others. They had stood by like a crowd, waiting and watching for John like he was some kind of pornstar, as if constantly waiting for the moment to applaud. They had huddled him... and then they had disappeared.

Over the course of the night, all of the other people who had set up camp around John's tent had disappeared. There were no more slaves, or simple citizens, those were all gone. In their place, John's little campsite was surrounded on all sides by dozens of different shapes of buildings. There were no more small, simple conical residences, except for John’s. They were replaced with giant masses of homes, places that were rebuilt from the wreckage of the village and filled to the brim with warriors and the things that those warriors considered to be their belongings. Barbarians and Orcish savages had set up camp all around him and made themselves immediately known when Lagash and another random Orcish woman pulled him out of his own tent.

They growled at him as he was forcefully yanked off balance and watched while he stumbled out into the open, nearly dropping the rags of cloth he had left to cover himself. They opened their mouths to speak, as John blinked at the veritable army that stood all around him, and then they froze. They left him the time to regather himself and make sense of what was happening while they all stared at him and the thick pole that came to hang against one of his naked thighs.

For John, the moment was eerily familiar to what Vanessa and Frank had tried to do to him in the past to humiliate him. It was almost exactly like the first time when they had showed everyone at his school that he had had a small cock. This time though, he just wound up surprising his new attackers with the 'concealed weapon' he had been walking around with. It was almost satisfying and healing to see the look of shock that appeared on their faces, if not for the fact that his satisfaction was drowned out by his own embarrassment.

"John, where are your clothes?!" he heard his mother cry out, and an angry huff directed him to the small campfire that she and Urga were sat at while Brenda described to the Orcish **** what was happening. They were hazing him, trying to shun him out of the tribe, probably on Dullong's orders, but it hadn't worked so far. He slowly glanced at his two women, cautiously turning away from the shocked faces of the women who had probably been about to start berating him, and smiled when he saw the change of clothing that the girl’s had both embraced over the past few days.

His mother looked almost the same as she had the previous day when he had found her. She wore almost nothing in the kingdom, no stocking, no heels, no top, other than the remnants of the pink, silky robe he had brought her here in. Only now it was no longer hanging from her shoulders like it had been when he first took her here. The robe was now wrapped around her waist and hung down over her crotch like one of the many loincloths they had seen the Orcs around camp wearing. The sleeves of her robe were tied around her waist, at the small of her back, while the rest of it drooped low enough to try and work like a skirt should have. Unfortunately, the rest of the robe didn't wrap all the way around her waist anymore. It was too small, too outgrown, and too shredded after what John had done to it for the robe to adequately cover her big, round butt. Her large, sweat-dappled breasts glistened at John upon his approach while she sat curled up on a furry hide mat and leaned her back up against a nearby log. She and Urga both soaked in the heat of a nearby campfire. Her shoulder length, straight, jet-black hair was slightly slick and matted when John finally got close enough to notice how they were trying to dry off in front of the fire.

That wasn't the only thing he noticed. Her hair was different. It no longer hung completely loose like the simple tousled, seductive curtain she had once styled it to be. Now, parts of it had been braided. There were only a few braids in her hair, separate locks that dangled, weaved and twisted into an intricate pattern, on either side of her face like little ropes. They shook against her reddening cheeks as she blushed and glanced away from John's nude body, and the golden beads that had been tied into them glistened slightly in the sunlight.

Urga, on the other hand, had only made one simple change to her outfit. Her hair was the same, her body was still just as curvy, and both women still relaxed in front of the campfire with their collar's hung proudly upon their necks like a couple of shields to protect them from the tribe's ****, but she was not wearing anything to cover herself up. The loincloth he had met her in was abandoned, forgotten and nowhere to be seen, and her whole body was on display for everyone. Everything from the toned, packed muscles of her abdomen to the hickeys across her neck and breasts was visible. Her little pussy glistened between trembling thighs as she pulled down John between them and exposed it again to the open breeze. He tried to tear his eyes away from the swollen mound, but Urga didn't waste any time. She just leaned forward, squeezing her breasts against his chest, and grabbed the member jutting out between his legs. She didn't squeeze or stroke him. She just held him up, like she was showing his pride off for everyone else to see while his mother picked up a nearby bowl of stew and passed it to him.

"M-my clothes?" he had almost forgotten the question. He did forget how to answer it when Urga distracted him, but his mother was able to put it together when he finally dropped the scraps of his work uniform on the ground next to them.

"I don't think I have the stuff to fix this here, baby. Eat something, and then we should see what we can do about trying to get back," his mother said, and John slowly looked down at the bowl of stew in his hands. He didn't remember the last time he had eaten, and a faint gnawing of hunger pushed at him in the back of his mind... but it was so small and weak that it wasn't urgent at the moment. He was easily distracted from the prospect of food when Urga began 'exploring' with her hands since she couldn't see him anymore. For the most part, she just tested the weight of his genitals’ newfound size. Her hands roamed and gently lifted what she could, grunting happily when the swollen size of his balls surprised her, but she didn't need to check the size of his member. She was already well acquainted with that; the rest of it was just for show and fun.

Again, John glanced at the food before him.

"Maybe later-" he started and began to set the food down before his mother interrupted him.

"I think we should talk," she stated suddenly. Her eyes slowly began to fall, dipping low enough to stare at the point where Urga had wrapped her slender, green fingers around him. She stared and swallowed hard, searching for the words for a long minute, before she quickly closed her eyes and looked away. Her throat moved as the three of them sat there, but she couldn't bring herself to actually say anything until Urga got confused enough from the silence to take her hands away from John. "After last night, I-" Brenda paused and slowly turned to look back at the both of them, her eyes shining with the slightest traces of moisture. "After seeing you two together, I th-think it would be best if I t-took a step back. I-" John straightened enough to try and reach out to her. He wanted to tell her to stop, that it wasn't necessary, but she pulled back and kept talking before he could. "I don't want to get b-between whatever it is that y-you two might have. You can just take me back home tonight, and then, Urga," his mother paused as the two women turned towards each other, one searching for the other through sound while the other stared straight at her, "y-you will get him just to yourself. You two can be hap-"

There was a loud, curt grunt as Urga abruptly caught up to the conversation. Her features hardened and furrowed in the direction of his mother's voice as Urga cast the darkest glare John had ever seen his mother receive. It wasn't pointed perfectly in her direction, and Urga ended up glaring at someone else sitting at another campfire, but she managed to at least direct it mostly at her intended target. Brenda jumped slightly in place, and her whole body paled as Urga slowly turned to face John.

The barbarian's emerald-hued hand gently squeezed into John's abdomen as the **** struggled to change her attitude. She faced him as appropriately as one of the tribe's slaves could manage, or at least as well as Urga could manage, and then when his mother was about to try and continue, Urga spoke firmly in her place.

"She did not satisfy you after I left?" Urga's features slowly knit up into a visible mask of confusion as she spoke, but after a moment, John gulped and carefully nodded for the feminine Orc. The silence held for a long minute as John failed to realize how she couldn't see his nod, but his mother filled in the gaps pretty quickly.

"No, I didn't. I didn't think it was-" Urga growled hard. Her teeth squeaked, audibly grinding together as the Orcess heard something she very clearly didn't like... but she strained to keep 'looking' at John. The muscles in her neck tensed and stood out as she **** herself to keep facing him. She did the proper thing, because she was still working for her Master's attention.

"I will repair this before the night is through," Urga growled again, her voice rumbling with thinly restrained emotion. Despite all of her obvious anger, he could feel her nipples also starting to harden against him as she spoke. In mere seconds, she was so turned on they were practically stabbing into his chest. "Let me be the one to fix her, Master, and you will not regret this." Her voice, even with all the suppressed anger roiling around inside it, deepened as she spoke. Her tone became... slightly husky like she was trying to seduce him, but John doubted that she did that on purpose. It didn't seem like something she would have wasted time with for John. The one time where Urga had actually wanted something like that from him so far, she had just skipped past outright seduction and took him like it had been her right. Regardless, her hand slowly began to squeeze and stroke along the length of his cock, milking him tightly from the base of it all the way up to the tip with fingers that could no longer grasp all the way around it with one hand. "Let me make you proud," she said, and once again, John forgot about everything else.

"O...kay?" He swallowed slowly. His mouth suddenly felt barren and dry. What else was he supposed to say to that?

It was enough for Urga, however. She was up on her feet before John could even try to make sense of the longing kiss that she quickly squeezed against his lips, dragging his mother away by a single fistful of her new haircut. It took a couple of moments for her to find the tent, but she did have an idea after hearing John come from that direction.

"John?" It was the last thing he heard his mother say before she disappeared with Urga. Her voice shook like it was filled with worry and unease, but Urga quickly put a lid on any worry that John may have felt for his mom.

"You will have plenty of time to scream his name out later tonight, whore," Urga grunted, and he watched as the entrance to the tent suddenly opened. "Right now, you learn mine." And then the tent's flap slapped shut behind them. A couple of muffled grunts echoed out from the tent as John rose to his feet, but he didn't follow them in. Though, the feminine moan that rang out across the campground right after that was more than enough to make him blush and reconsider that idea before he ended up stabbing somebody with the spear he had calling for attention between his legs.

He had to find clothes... if not for decency's sake then at least for a little bit of warmth while he tried to get things done. The whole night had almost passed him by, and he hadn't done anything to level up, yet. He considered using Craft to try and repair the outfit he had left, but that meant that he had to use Mana, and he didn't have any to spare if he still wanted to get any training in. He had to find clothes... but that meant that he had to get them from an Orc, and all they seemed to own were loincloths.

"Pigskin." Lagash's familiar voice finally addressed John when he started to walk away. The friend that she had found to help ambush John stayed back when Lagash stepped forward to address him, but neither one of them took their eyes off of his junk. They just ogled, like they didn't care for his decency or how embarrassed that might have made him.

"My name is John," he said when she stepped up next to him. "And my eyes are up here." She didn't care.

"Where are you going?" she asked, and John almost ignored her. He considered just turning and walking away from her, but if she was anything like Vanessa, she would have just followed him until she got what she wanted. Talking with her at least could have answered some questions.

"To look for clothes. Has your coward of a husband decided to properly challenge me yet?" That got her attention. Her body suddenly jerked in place at his choice of words, tensing up as she slowly turned to glare up at John.

"Hus...band?" Surprisingly, she didn't question much more than that. After a couple seconds of glaring, she just wanted clarification on the one word. A word that they apparently didn't have in their language. They called their lovers 'mates' because... well, it implied that there could have been more than one.

"I assume that means no," John said, and Lagash grunted at him as a reply. Her arms slowly crossed in front of her chest as they walked, squeezing her breasts up high, but they didn't have to walk for very long. After a couple minutes of ogling at each other and aimlessly wandering around, John had to tear his attention back away from Urga's sister to try and get back to his task. He had to find clothes and a way to train. "Do you know where I can find some proper pants?" Lagash just looked at him confused again. "Or someone who makes and sells clothes?" Again, she merely grunted...

...but after a couple of seconds, she began to lead him back in one of the directions they came from. They got close to the area where Urga's tent had been set up, and where Dullong's pack had surrounded it, but at the last moment, they turned away. A couple of minutes went by as they walked from one side of the village's wide, main road to the other side, and when they finally crossed and darted back behind a few more rundown buildings, they finally stumbled across another Orc who was standing nearby one of the many large, ruined buildings and shouting orders at the people around him.

"I said put it in the tent! If I wanted the store set up in there, I would have told you to put it in there! Stop doing what you think I want and start doing what I say, you lousy cunt!" John actually flinched when he heard the Orc yell. It was a large man, larger than most of the Orcs he had come across. He wasn't as tall as any of the elder's or Dullong, but he was thick. Even when looking at him from behind, the Orc had a stout, defined figure that made him look almost twice as wide as John was. Somehow, his immense body looked natural, mostly because it made the large chunks that had been actually taken out of the large man's body look like simple scars. Every divot and every cut that had once ripped through parts of the Orc's skin looked like they had once been fatal wounds, or at least they would have been fatal on John. On the Orc’s massive body, it seemed like they had just been bad battle wounds. Every scar he had, from the deep, ghastly, viridian splotches where old wounds had been to the leather patch tightly bound over his left eye, seemed like it somehow made sense for the large Orc with his irate attitude. He didn't even care for who he bumped into or pissed off when he ran around yelling; he just told them off or outright tried to sock them if they stayed around for too long.

Hell, he had so many scars on his body that his muscles looked almost... misaligned whenever he flexed or tensed up. He was so badly disfigured that John didn't even see the small gap in one of the Orc's lips until Lagash addressed him.

"Failure!" Lagash snapped, and the large Orc suddenly spun around to face her. He growled, and she simply glared back at him... but he didn't attack. After a couple of long seconds and a use of Observe, he started to realize what had happened.

Mub Chuk
Level 6 Barbarian
<Mub>
146/146 HP
RP: -162
Effects: Pack Mentality, Pack Leader, Heart Of The Beast, Stubborn.

"Failure," John tested the word himself and confirmed it with how the word sounded in Orcish. His name, Mub, literally meant failure. She wasn't calling him a failure... at least John was pretty sure that she wasn't, he was named 'failure'. "I'm Jo-"

"John," Mub grunted back at the human, his lone brown eye narrowing into a small squint. "I've heard of you, boy. You own this town." As soon as Mub said that, Lagash began to growl at him. Mub simply blinked at her and turned back to the conversation and then blinked hard, as if noticing that John was standing naked in front of him for the first time. "What do you need?"

"Pants," John said and coughed awkwardly into his hand, his cheeks burning as he slowly began to try and cover himself up with the other arm. Even with the assumption that other races might have had pants to wear, it still took a little while for John to properly describe and show Mub what he meant when he told him about the kind of clothing he wanted. A shirt would have been nice, but he didn't really need anything else other than the pants right away, but even then, he wasn't sure how he was going to pay the Orc for them.

"I don't have any." That was also a problem. "But I have made strange, similar gear before. I think I can make this in under an hour," Mub said, and John let out a small sigh. "I think we might have a trade we can make for them too."

"What do you want...?" John asked hesitantly. According to the tribe, he didn't own much more than Urga's tent, Urga, and his mother. Most of the stuff that Mub could have asked for, John wasn't willing to separate with. At the rate he was going, he was going to end up dropping out of the kingdom without any clothes to wea-

"That house," Mub said and jerked a single, calloused thumb back at the pile of rock and rotted wood behind him. The building creaked and groaned as he pointed at it, as if reacting to being drawn into the conversation, and John slowly turned to look at it.

"You want... the house?" he said.

"Yup. The tribe moves around to avoid the fate of the Hallowed, and to find new prey, but if the Hallowed can be killed..." Mub paused and slowly glanced at the **** he had been yelling at earlier. His expression tightened slightly as if he was about to go back to yelling, but he restrained himself after a couple of seconds. "...some of the tribe might stop moving. They'll try to claim homes... in your town, and you will either have to **** them out or surrender. You give me this one, and you can have your 'pahnts.'"

It sounded like a trade he could consider. It was something serious, and he wasn't exactly attached to an old, broken down ruin. The only problem he saw was that he was offering pants... for a house. It wasn't a fair trade... but John could make it one.

"Counter offer," John said, and Mub's brow furrowed. "You make me the pants and supply me with some real, decent armor, and you can not only have this house, but you can also take the one behind it... If you can clear out the Orcs trying to steal it from me."

Mub's expression tightened more. He stared at John, more than the naked gamer actually wanted him to, as he slowly scratched a hand through the graying scruff along his jawline. He hummed almost absentmindedly, mulling over the possibility for as long as he could in his mind before a large grin suddenly split across his disheveled face.

"You've got a deal." Mub chuckled and yanked John's arm out into a tight clasp to shake it. He grinned down at the blushing gamer before Mub suddenly stepped back and turned to face the **** climbing through the old house ruins. "Girl!" John blinked hard when Mub said that. The **** turned back to look at him with two bright pink cat ears twitching in response to being called upon, but... it wasn't the strange part feline, part human heritage of the **** that shocked John. Despite the fact that the **** smiled when Mub addressed her or wore a tiny, pink dress that actually covered nothing from the waist down... it was extremely clear from the view he had that 'she' was not a girl. She didn't even try to correct Mub, though. 'She' just embraced the comment like it wasn't anything new. "Go get me my mace!"

"Come back in an hour, I should have some stuff for you by then," Mub said, and John turned and walked away. He turned to look at Lagash as they walked away, but she didn't bother with giving him an explanation. The most she did was label Mub as 'weird' by the tribe's standards and then shrugged.