Current Residence: New Jersey
Favourite genre of music: Techno, dance, jazz, euro, trance
Favourite photographer: n/a
Favourite style of art: Pop-art, anime
MP3 player of choice: My phone
Wallpaper of choice: Currently it's orc bae... I mean, Thrall, from WoW.
Favourite cartoon character: Beetlejuice (i.e. Cartoon series BJ)
Personal Quote: "If you can't dazzle them with brilliance... baffle them with bullshit."
Laying back against the side of the tub, and illuminated by the golden firelight, I was able to get a good, long look at my strange new companion. Earlier things had been too hectic for me to look at anything that didn’t require my immediate attention. I also realized his immense size had intimidated me so, that I had avoided looking into his eyes directly. But he seemed far less threatening kneeling on the ground, his shoulders hunched over my small tub, and I felt brave enough to observe him closely.
My orc was not pretty. His face was dotted with gritty pock marks, and gaping pores. A long scar snaked along his forehead to his right brow just above the eye, and another one lined his cheek bone. Not beautiful features, but they were striking; a broad, jutting jaw, with a full, moist lower lip from which long, tawny-colored tusks emerged. A short nose, one side pierced with a gold ring, with wide nostrils flared above a sloping, tall upper lip, making him look more beast than man.
Around his chin a thick beard fell in waves, the same dark green color of his hair, and met the bushy sideburns around his cheeks. His neck was bigger around than both of my thighs, and sloped into even broader shoulders. Without his wide skull belt I could see that his abdomen was not shaped into the perfectly chiseled six-pack I expected. To be honest, he had a bit of gut, but it looked strong, and hard –the body of an active man who didn’t bother to watch what he ate.
Calloused hands with rough knuckles wrung the excess water from his washcloth before he applied it to my shoulders again. Every inch of him was green-skinned, meaty muscle, scarred flesh, and dense, dark body hair. No, my orc was not handsome. He was everything I’d fantasized about all those nights lying awake, and alone, in my queen-sized bed back home. I couldn’t decide if that made me feel any better or any worse about my situation.
If you'd like to read more, the rest of chapter 3 is now available on my Patreon: www.patreon.com/OrcGirl
Here's a quick little segment from Chapter 3 of "Orc Girl."
I was grateful that we were stopping soon, anxious to be off this horse whose saddle was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Being closer to making camp, however, meant we were closer to South Keep, to the orc city, which meant I was closer to whatever fate awaited me. And who knows what my orc had in store for me between now and then.
“Um… can I ask you something else?” I piped up.
“Ask away, human,” the orc replied.
“Once we get to South Keep, your home…” I stammered. “Um… What exactly are you going to do with me?”
“Devour you, of course,” he muttered flippantly.
“You’re a little puny, being a human of course, but you’d make a lovely soup base.”
Panic washed over me, and I felt every hair stand on end.
What have I done? I thought. Perhaps I had made the wrong choice; this was far worse than being released into the woods. He’d promised me shelter and protection –did he mean in his belly? But if all he really wanted to do was eat me, then why keep me alive? What would be the point? Unless orcs preferred their meat fresh –really fresh.
I gulped back a hard lump in my throat, as I craned my neck to look up at him, but noticed a toothy, mischievous grin spreading across his face.
“You’re not really going to eat me, are you?” I squeaked.
He chuckled in reply. “No, of course not. We don’t eat humans.” He wrapped his arm tighter around my waist which pressed my body flat against his. “They taste terrible.”
The skull on his belt, nudging me in my lower back, was not very reassuring. But it seemed this was another display of disconcerting orc humor. Above his belt, however, the heat of his chest was soothing, and sent pleasant shivers up and down my tired back.
“Oh thank goodness... I mean I figured you were joking but -,” realization dawned. “Wait… Taste terrible? How would you even know?” I cried.
The orc chuckled louder, and pulled me back to his chest again when I tried to pull away. I resisted the urge to elbow him sharply in the gut, but decided I’d rather not be thrown off the horse, and consequently down the hillside, by one of his massive hands. I also figured the motion would do more damage to my elbow than to his abdomen anyway.
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