A young Orc, fostered by Elves, fights his lusty nature as his body becomes an adult Orc.
[Please note: This story is fundamentally an interracial, cuckolding trope with a fantasy veneer.]
One day, the elven warrior, Lyvelle, spoke with her foster son about something she knew little about. Her job had always been to kill Orcs, not to raise one as her own child.
"Dagok, you have grown so big and strong. I'm as sorry as I can be that the village's young female elves do not consider you attractive. It may take a while for your father and I to find a bride for you. But you are young, and there still years before you are old enough to marry." The marriage age for elves is fifty.
Dagok paced around their small but tidy hut. "But, Mother, I want a wife now! My feelings are so strong, I worry about losing control!"
"What am I going to do about my urges, Mother?"
"Son, I have heard that human males will take themselves in hand to relieve the urges that plague you. Do you understand?" Lyvelle was not talking to an empty wineskin. She and her husband, Anipa, have discussed the natural act of sexual intercourse with Dagok more than once.
"I understand what you mean, Mother. But how do I do it?"
"It's suppose to be a simple task, where you grasp your erection and gently tug on it until your urges are satisfied." Lyvelle was not sure of her advice. Would human habits be suitable for Orc urges? Elves were naturally so flexible, they tended to use their mouths on themselves. And although Dagok's manhood was quite large, his musculature was too great for him to bend even as much as humans.
Lyvelle's expressed regret hung in the air, about Dagok's lack of appeal to the young females in their village. The poor Orc wasn't sure what to make of his situation. He felt desperate and aroused, his large frame vibrating with pent-up energy.
The large tent forming in his loincloth was an unmistakable sign of his growing erection. Lyvelle's face flushed when she noticed her son's burgeoning manhood. She quickly explained the human act of self-gratification, her words rushing out in a hurried attempt to offer some guidance.
"I will do this." Dagok replied, his deep voice echoing through the wooden hut. Lyvelle exited their home, leaving Dagok alone with his thoughts and his urgent erection.
The young Orc's lay down on his sleeping mat. His hands felt rough and calloused, wrapped them around his thickening member. He stroked gently. Eyes closed he imagined the women of the village, their smooth skin and tempting shapes.
His breathing quickened as a wave of pleasure washed over him. Unbeknownst to him, Lyvelle's ears pricked up at the sound of her son's moans. She simply stood watch outside of their hut, but she said nothing to the elves going about their business in the village - who also must be hearing the very un-elven sounds. Most had accepted Dagok's polite ways and capable help, over the course of his young life. Elves are easygoing about the privacy of others.
Dagok's continued stroking. The shaft in his hand felt powerful and harder with each stroke. He imagined his mother's heartbeat pounding beyond the stillness of the hut, the image of her body firmly planted in his mind. With a final, swift thrusts of his hand, Dagok gave a roar of satisfaction, semen spraying across his chest and hand.
Collapsing on his sleeping mat, Dagok's breathing stabilized as the pleasure subsided. But his rest was short-lived, for his desires returned with renewed vigor after only an hour.
Anipa entered the hut, carrying a haul of wild plums and turnips, the essence of the forest upon him. The scent of the wilderness shifted Dagok's senses, and he stood up, determined to assist in preparing dinner.
"Son, perhaps you can contribute to our meal in another way," suggested Anipa, his voice kind. "The south quarter of the woods have spared from intense hunting. There should be plenty of game."
Dagok's was overjoyed at the prospect of hunting, and he left the hut in search of rabbits, his large footsteps melding with the silent forest. His senses were alert, and he moved quietly until he had crept up on a unsuspecting rabbit, at range, and speared it with precision. As he looked down at his handiwork, Dagok's eyes drifted to his cum stained hand, a telltale sign of his continuing dilemma.
Sighing deeply, the young Orc continued hunting, determined to provide for his family. He speared another rabbit and headed back to the hut. In the small village, a girl elf who was as young as Dagok, held her nose as he passed by. She chortled dismissively and spoke to a girl elf beside her. "All Orcs are ugly brutes. I don't care if his heart is elvish." The other girl giggled, and they scampered away.
Dagok clenched his fists, his knuckles white, the bitter taste of humiliation in his mouth. He grunted, "I will never be accepted here."
At home, Lyvelle praised her son's efforts. Her words were heartfelt, and she couldn't help but admire her son's powerful build, despite his intimidating appearance. She spoke to Anipa.
"Husband, I fear we should look now for a bride who will welcome our son into her arms. Dagok is still young, but the search will be difficult. It would be best to find an Elven maiden who will overlook his ancestry."
"I'm sorry, my wife, I fear we may have to journey to the humans. They sometimes count half-orcs among their numbers. The elves here may know our son, but there is too much bad blood between our races. That is my thinking on the matter." Anipa accounted.
As Dagok set about preparing the rabbits for dinner, he eavesdropped on his parents' conversation. Their concerns about finding a suitable bride made his heart sink.
That night, unable to sleep, Dagok's desires grew more intense. The scent of his mother filled his nostrils like perfume, and the image of her naked form consumed his thoughts. He heard her stir beside his father, and he froze in place.
Lyvelle and Anipa slept beside each other, curtained off from the main area of their hut. Lyvelle dreamed of her son's mighty form. In the dream, she kneeled before him, head bowed, but her heart pounded in her chest, waking her. Lyvelle studied her sleeping husband but felt little of what she felt for her son in the dream. There was a masculine odor in the hut, one that she'd never smelled before. "My son is gaining his full adult body." She whispers. The strong musk is Orcish, and it triggers her warrior memories of battle with the wicked race.
Dagok's senses were overwhelmed by the scent of his mother's arousal mingled with the musk of his own lust. With quiet determination, he approached his parents' sleeping mat, placing a hand on Lyvelle's shoulder. Her eyes flicked towards him, battle rush and concern for her son mingling in depth.
"Mind your father," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Anipa woke at the commotion, his eyes studying the young adult looming over his wife's bed. "Are you troubling your mother, Dagok?" he asked, his tone steely.
Lyvelle interjected to calm the situation. "It'll be all right, Anipa. He's having a difficult time." Her voice trailed off as she glanced meaningfully at her husband, hoping to avoid conflict.
Dagok stepped back, his eyes cast downward, and though Lyvelle wanted to reach out to him, she held back, afraid of what the situation might escalate into. The maturing Orc left the hut in search of release elsewhere.
In the dead of night, Dagok's footsteps carried him to the hut of a young elf woman named Orani. Through the thin walls, he heard her soft snores and smelled her sweet scent. Guilt gnawed at his stomach as he considered waking her for relief, regardless of her willingness, but something stopped him.
Orani's dreams turned erotic, and the scent of lust filled the hut. "I will be yours," she murmured in her sleep. The image of a tall Elf warrior caressed her mind.
Dagok's senses picked up on her arousal, and he struggled with his own desires. The need for release warred with his sense of right and wrong. He turned away, unable to bring himself to disrupt her rest.
Frustration boiled within Dagok, and the dogs of the village seemed to sense his growing anger. One brave canine growled at the Orc, and Dagok's eyes narrowed dangerously at the mutt. His hands balled into fists as he roared his frustration to the night sky. Bloodlust was about to boil in his craw.
Lyvelle, ever vigilant, heard her son's roar and rushed out of the hut. "What's wrong, my brave son?" she asked, her voice thick with concern.
Dagok's erection was prominent. Lust and desperation tore at his soul. "I need a bride, Mother," he rumbled, his eyes pleading. "I cannot bear these urges!"
Lyvelle's mind raced—her son needed help, and she was determined to offer some solace. "Take yourself in hand," she instructed, her voice low and sedate. "I will dance for you; it might help inspire release."
Dagok paused, considering his mother's words. He also had to consider that members of the tribe had woken and were watching them through cracks in their huts. A different shame welled up in him, for Elves are a people who value privacy, especially in intimate situations.
But then he imagined the dance she spoke of, and a glimmer of hope emerged. Lyvelle began to move gracefully, her feet padding softly on the earth as she glided like a shadow in the moonlight. Dagok's eyes fixated on her figure, and he began to slowly stroke himself, the image of his mother's dance burning in his mind.
Lyvelle's feet were cut by sharp stones, but she continued dancing, her voice egging Dagok on, encouraging him to find release. The young Orc's hand quickened, and his heart pounded in time with Lyvelle's footsteps. He saw the red stains of her sacrifice. The smell of blood overwhelmed him.
With a primal roar, Dagok climaxed, his semen spraying across his hand and onto Lyvelle's feet. She froze mid-dance, her eyes frantic as the warm fluid splashed her. Dagok felt a momentary sense of triumph, followed quickly by remorse. He dropped to his knees, his large frame hulking in the moonlight.
Lyvelle rushed to assure her son, her arms hugging her foster son despite the pain in her feet. "You are not a monster, Dagok," she soothed. "You are a boon for our tribe. You can control your base nature, and I promise to help when you need it." She shivered in the night air.
The cum on her feet seeped into her wounds was carried into her veins. It was a simple intrusion that would work upon her body slowly over time. "We will find a way."
The young Orc carried his mother back to the hut, where Anipa tended to her wounds with expert hands. Dagok observed his parents, noting their concern and fear. He felt like a burden, but before he could say anything, Lyvelle spoke up.
"We must find him a bride," she insisted, determination in her voice. "It is the only way."
The Orc youth exited the hut, leaving his parents to their worries. His mind enjoined a battle between his Elvish sensibilities and the raw, untamed desires of his Orc ancestry.
***
Dagok's senses were on high alert as he tracked the scent of deer through the forest. His keen hearing picked up the animal's frightened heartbeat, and the young Orc felt a surge of determination, a sense of duty to provide for his family. Except this time, he hunted with the purpose of atonement. Eyes sharp and focused, Dagok spotted a grazing deer and hurled his spear with precision, striking the creature down.
Brimming with satisfaction, he bled out the carcass and carried it back to the village, presenting it to the elders with a mix of pride and shame. "I have failed our people and have no future place here." he bowed his head. "I will leave at first light to find a bride who will accept me for who I am."
The elders debated Dagok's future, their voices carrying the weight of the tribe's well-being. Lyvelle and Anipa stood nearby, anxiety in their demeanor. The East elder spoke of Dagok's roar heard throughout the village, but the West elder acknowledged his good heart. The South elder proposed a trial, believing it was the only way for Dagok to confront his inner demons. The North elder, with finality, decreed that the journey itself would be his trial, but his parents must accompany him and attest to his success or failure.
Dagok saw his parents' worried faces, but he agreed, determined to prove himself worthy.
The family spent every moment of the following day, preparing for the journey, though Lyvelle had to avoid her son's gaze several times, guessing the depth of his affections, affections that should not exist for a mother by her child. It had been a mistake to dance for him, not realizing that it would draw the youth's attention away from natural interests and towards incestuous ones.
Dagok ran many errands to aid their departure but halted when the need of his erection suddenly became undeniable. Desire struck him soundly when he noticed Orani watching from the door of her marriage hut. Her scent in the air was intoxicating. He imagined her naked, begging for him, nearly overwhelmed him, and he quickened his step, away from her hut, hoping to escape the temptation.
Yet, fate seemed to have a different plan. Like a magnet stone drawing iron, Dagok found himself once again standing before Orani's hut, imagining her being aroused due to his own escalating desires. He called her name.
Orani answered from behind the door, "Dagok, please leave. I-I do not understand what's happening." She was cold and frightened, as if her dream of the warrior Elf had turned into a hulking orc in real life. Orani warned, "My fiancée will be here soon." Chamili was a young elf from an influential family, but he was no warrior. Orani wanted to tear herself away from the door and shut it but couldn't. The situation's horrifying possibilities had transfixed her.
The young Orc was torn between his logical mind and the raw, primal instincts raging within. He turned away, knowing he should leave, but his feet had a will of their own and spun him back to the hut.
Orani, sensing his struggle, spoke again, her words a confusing mix of enticement and denial. "Chamili is out gathering berries." She admitted, her voice heavy with dread. Dagok's heart raced, and his erection strained against his loincloth. He tried to explain his sincerity, his deep voice thick with emotion. "You do not want this." But Orani seemed to understand the demon possessing him.
"The villagers speak of an Orc's need to use force, Dagok. I-I would helpless against it," she whispered, her eyes glinting dangerously in the light that shone through the hut's cracks. The veiled suggestion hung in the air, and Dagok's self-control shattered like amber.
Without another thought, he ripped open the door, and there she was, nearly naked, vulnerable, and cowering. Dagok roared, the beast within taking over, and he took Orani roughly against the hut's wooden wall. Her pleas and protests fell on deaf ears as the Orc lost himself in the raw passion that consumed him. He bit her neck, his hot breath enveloping her, while his hands mauled her breasts.
In an explosion of lust, Dagok climaxed, spewing his seed across Orani's thighs and belly. As quickly as it began, it was over, and he fell to his knees, shame flushing away his brief pleasure. He looked up at Orani's horrified face and mumbled an apology before stumbling stupidly from the hut, leaving her stunned and bewildered.