Is the Flower of Fantasy an Orc?
Those damn muscle pigs didn't have brains attached to their bodies for thinking, that's for sure. Even in hunts, a little brainpower could cut down casualties, but nope—not a chance. Spot an enemy, charge in first, smash their skull with an axe, then think about it.
It wasn't just hunts, either. They brawled among themselves all the time. Mostly fists, but axes came out now and then. I'd seen it three or four times during my stay. The funny part? Even after taking an axe to the head, they didn't die. Maybe they held back, or maybe their skulls were forged from actual iron—either way, the blade just barely sank in.
But the fights ended there. Guys who'd been trying to kill each other moments ago would tear into meat and chug booze at night, laughing like old pals...
Ah! They had booze, too. I held a brimming cup of it myself. Not orc-made, though. It came from the squat folk—the dwarves. Orcs might be brutes, but they had some culture, traded and all. Even spotted other races in the village now and then.
This orc village wasn't just orcs. All sorts lived together—humans, beastkin, even elves. The catch? Aside from the orcs themselves, pretty much everyone else was female.
Exotic race women gathered in an orc village? Only one thing that screams. Yeah—they were all slaves to the orcs. What kind? Breeding stock, obviously. Pump 'em full of orc seed.
So yeah, if I had the power, I could snag an exotic bitch like the others, make her my breeding slave, and fuck her brains out. My quest wasn't impossible.
Problem was, every slave already had an owner. And touching another orc's slave? That sparked a feud ending in one corpse or the other. To these orcs, stealing a tribesman's exotic slave felt worse than murder.
That's why I kept my hands clean around all these tasty non-human women, playing it safe. No clue if the quest ended with one fuck or needed a quota—couldn't risk it. Even if this wasn't reality, I didn't fancy my skull split by an axe.
So I hunted for legal ways to score an exotic bitch. Turns out? Power. And power meant...
Money. Same as back home. Savages or not, orcs used coin. Sold hunt scraps, bought stuff. That stuff came from the few non-orc females—merchants hawking goods.
Like axes. Dwarves made 'em, but a human owned the weapons shop. Booze? Dwarven brew, sold by a human merchant. And bitches! That's why most orcs saved up.
Young bucks hitting adulthood went feral for cash. Owning a breeding slave was their rite of passage.
Wait—what about orc females? If males obsessed over exotics, didn't females hunt other races' males?
Nope. No such thing as female orcs. All orcs were male. They bred through other races' females. Any bitch knocked up by an orc popped out male orcs, no exceptions.
Ridiculous setup. But hey, standard for porn-fantasy, right? Made sense why they lusted so hard for slaves. Owning an exotic wasn't just horniness—it tied to the tribe's survival.
From what I'd seen, though? Pure lust. Nights turned louder than days with exotic-race bitches screaming and orcs roaring in heat.
Young males without slaves? Bloodshot eyes, hunting nonstop. Needed cash for pussy. Hunts paid well. Just today's Garganquia—beak, claws, those huge flashy feathers—all sold for coin. One bird's loot bought a decent bitch.
Me? No cash for that. Hunting scared me shitless. Picked up scraps, sold to the goblin merchant for pocket change. Not enough.
Money... Guess even isekai needed skills to snag girls.
"Slave trader's here!"
The village buzzed. A trader touring Urkmanistan rolled in. Hundreds of slaves—walking or carted—flooded the square. All female, naturally.
They hit once or twice a month, give or take. Turned the village into a festival. Obvious why—fresh exotic pussy for orc fiends? Party time.
I rushed to the square with the rest, window-shopping slaves.
Plenty to see. Endless other-race bitches lined up. Orcs sniffed around, hunting matches. I joined in. No cash, but looking was free.
Hot women everywhere. Humans took half—black skin, white, brown, even orange. Half-naked beauties with every hair color.
Most looked miserable. Duh—sold to orcs for lifelong breeding? Hell no.
And these orcs packed monstrous cocks. Mine was beastly for a human back home, but puny next to orcs. Lucky for me, this orc body sported a proud slab—no shame there.
But size meant jack without a hole to plug.
Half thrilled, half pissed, I browsed. Wooden tags hung on necks—prices scribbled on.
Like tags at a cattle market. Barbaric, far from civilized. And here I was, one of the savages.
Spotted a stunner: orange-haired beauty. Earth? She'd be an SNS star. Price: 3,500 chur.
Huh. Bargain? No clue on chur value. Village life was self-sufficient—hunt food, skin clothes, mud huts. Money? Just for slave days like this.
Beasts. (Not that I was different.)
3,500 chur—350,000 won? 3.5 mil? 35 mil? Beats me. Just cheap compared to others.
Next to her, a buff brown-skinned amazon: 10,800 chur. Triple. But appeal? Meh. Too tanky—swimmer shoulders, bat-crushing forearms. Face okay, not hot.
Yet popular here. Healthy fetched top dollar. Orcs prized baby factories. Waste cash on a looker who dies barren? No thanks. Tough over pretty. Though if equal health, pretties won.
Half slaves human bitches. Rest? Beastkin—dog, cat, cow kin. That milf-cow type? 56,700 chur. Towering—orc-sized. But those tits... impossible on humans. Each like a kid's torso.
No exaggeration.
Half-dozen orcs swarmed her, drooling. No owner? They'd pin and pound her raw.
Oddly calm, she eyed them, judging. Heard slaves pick if multiple bidders.
Hence the dick-measuring. Flexing arms, dropping pants. Dizzying. So far from my norms.
And why's she nodding at that exposed cock?
Lost interest fast. Big tits ain't everything.
Browsing wore on—then jackpot. Hottest by far.
Deep copper skin—darker than Asian, lighter than black. Malay-ish. But face? Pure Western, Nordic—sharp nose, sea-blue eyes. Blonde hair, gold streaked brown. Rare, striking beauty.
Not the face or contrast that hooked, though. Pointed, long ears. No human. Fantasy's flower: dark elf.
Tall—even above orc norms, bigger than village human men. Slim, toned muscles just right. Low fat, yet stacked tits. Prime bitch material.