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"Chiefly Duties"

The sun was burning down hard this day in Durotar. Thrall, who had once been so used to the dry climate found himself sweating and fanning himself occasionally as he watched the Goblins toil away at the latest strike of Azurite located underground just half a mile from Orgrimmar. It had been sixteen days of constant digging, the ore was being pulled out by loads and with it came a great amount of profit for the small green allies to the Horde. It had been an extremely hot season, despite a promise of seven days being constantly pushed back he was getting to his limit in his temporary seat as Warchief after Sylvanas had left and no matter what he did, he couldn't do anything but pine for the land he had settled on after Hellscream's destruction in Nagrand.

"Boss?" Gazlowe's voice shook Thrall out of his daze, he glanced down at the small goblin who also was sweating, but seemed less bothered by the heat who was staring back up at him. "You all right? You seem kinda distracted today."

"I'm..." Thrall sighed. "I'm fine, Gazlowe. I am just tired today."

"Look, I know you're coming back from a hiatus and all, but you want this done, don't you?"

"Of course I do." Thrall said with a growl in his throat. "Just get on with it."

"I know my guys are a couple of days over--"

"Almost ten days over." Thrall corrected him.

"Fine. Granted. But you know how important this is, right? I mean huge stash of Azurite under Orgrimmar's foundation? It must've been accumulating since the siege!"

"I know, I know." Thrall replied, rubbing his fingers in his eyes. "Please, Gazlowe. Continue your work. The faster we can get this done?"

"You got it boss."

"Tell me, Gallywix did say you guys would be able to restore the ground to the way it was, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's like we're rooting out the corrupted bits of earth under the land here. In fact that's our latest theory for why there's so much azurite here. Don't worry, we got it covered!"

Thrall nodded silently and Gazlowe took a step back before turning and jogging away. It was at that point the orc groaned and furrowed his fingers across his eyebrows, pushing back a headache. Why wasn't Baine here? Why did he have to come here to oversee this ridiculous operation. He was sweating under his jerkin, he could feel it dripping against his skin by this point. He grunted and began to pace back and forth, huffing as he flicked his shirt, trying hard to cool himself from this overwhelming heat. It felt anything but natural, and the longer he meandered, the more he felt stressed by the heat. It was an overwhelming sensation, it felt unnatural, an eerie chill crawled up his spine as he turned around and realized he was completely isolated from the remainder of the goblins working here. "Now, where did everybody go?" He asked himself.

Turning on his heel, Thrall felt something under his feet that didn't feel right; a tremble that it started out with suddenly evolved into an earth-shattering crack that filled his ears. The ground under him shook and sent the orc to his knees and as he went to get back to his feet again, there was another violent shake. Looking up, Thrall could see the ground collapsing in a direct line coming toward him. Goblin equipment began to topple and collapse in on the destruction, falling into the ground as the shaman watched it swallow it and cover itself up. It was as if the land was reclaiming everything that Gazlowe and his crew had been working on, and it was coming straight toward him.

Thrall stood and stretched his arms out, forming a barrier of energy around himself as the ground collapsed under him as well. The field of lightning flickered and he watched as he fell into the darkness under him, the hole sealing itself above his head, leaving him to plummet into the earth below. Thrall could hear his own roar echo through the cavern as he broke through and hurtled down toward the ground. Eventually he hit the bottom of the chasm; the lightning shield around him helped to prevent him from being killed on impact, but as he came too, Thrall realized he must have fallen hundreds of feet into the corrupted earth carved out below Orgrimmar a few years back. But he didn't recognize this room in particular. He sat up and let out a howl of pain, feeling a nasty rip in his shoulder muscle as it pulled with his movement. He grunted and closed his eyes, hissing through his teeth to mind the pain.

"Nnhrrr..." He grumbled as he rose slowly to his feet, minding his arm as he did so. "Where in the hells am I?" He asked himself, looking around to realize the cave was completely deserted and he was the only one seemingly alive down here. "Garrosh surely had something to do with this room, it didn't carve itself out." He said as he began to wander aimlessly through the nearest corridor he could find. Thankfully, there was enough ambient light in the cave to give him some sense of direction, that and knowing the direction in which Orgrimmar was would help Thrall get back to the rooms he was more familiar with and possibly to find a way back to the surface.

The caves felt like a labyrinth to him though, each attempt he made to follow the direction toward the orc city was barred or blocked off, forcing him to find another path to make his way, and eventually he became hopelessly lost. His arm was beginning to burn from the pain, and he was sure he had broken his rotator cuff or at the very least pulled a muscle in it, rendering his entire right arm useless. After a while of wandering and sweating, Thrall decided to rest, nearly collapsing in a cool throughway passage that led into a larger cavern. None of this place looked manmade, or orcmade, as it were. Every inkling of continuing on was met with an agonizing shock of pain, and Thrall found it harder and harder to press onwards. Eventually he found his way to a third large cavern and after a while he had realized that this cave was constructed differently; the walls seemed to incline more toward a pyramidic shape, the carvings along the outer walls seemed to curve inward as the ceiling sloped up toward a point several hundred feet overhead. This room also had small statues lining the walls, rows of ornaments, ancient dolls, talismans he could only recognize as belonging to dark shaman. This was where the center of the corruption of Earth was, where the dark shaman guards employed by Garrosh likely ritualistically sacrificed animals, even citizens of Orgrimmar to maintain their tainted connection to their power.

It was then that Thrall could feel it; something older than their power, something older than the siege something...older than the land itself was buried here. And as he turned, Thrall came face to face with the most hideous stone carving of a Quilboar that he had ever encountered before. The look was so surprising, the face so shocking against the dark lighting of the cavern that the orc let loose a yelp that echoed through the cave and he stumbled backwards. Watching the statue dissolve before his eyes, Thrall inhaled the black air that emitted from its shattered remains and he could suddenly feel something... something other than him start to push his consciousness from control. He gagged and tried to cough the infestation out, but it was too late and even his clutching fingertips slowly grew numb. He fell to the floor, and his body writhed and shook violently for several minutes until he lost consciousness. He was dead, this infestation was killing him and there was no one there to help him as his mind faded to black.

"Yo, Thrall! You okay?" He heard Gazlowe's voice echoing in the back of his mind, and Thrall's eyes opened to see the goblin standing over him. "Holy crap, you're alive! You are so lucky, I thought you were a goner for sure!"

"Gazlowe? How..." Thrall felt himself say, but it seemed surreal, as though he weren't the one speaking. Somehow, the orc had made his way to the steps at the top of the Cleft and that was where he was found. "I do not want to experience that again. You and your workers are hereby relieved of your dig."

Gazlowe frowned, it was nearly impossible for him to hide his disappointment. "A-are you sure, Thrall? I mean there are untold riches of Azurite there, it's not a complete loss, we can get things back up and running in--"

"NO." Thrall felt his entire body rise in a rage-filled roar that made all the goblins present recoil in surprise. "Do as I command. No more digging where we aren't welcomed." He tried to end his sentence with a calming breath, but all he felt was anger and disdain for the confused workers around him.

"S-sure thing...boss... you got it. I'll tell the Trade Prince that you ain't interested in what's under the city."

"Good." Thrall said as he stood. "And seal the old passages, collapse it, flood it, set the hells ablaze within, I don't care. I want no one to go down there. It is a danger that has long since been ignored. It should be for the best that we leave this behind." He grunted as he stood up.

"Got it. Seal it off. You want that to apply to Baine and the others too? I think they were still investigating--"

"Yes. Seal it off to everyone; consider this my final decree as your sit-in Warchief. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I will turn in. I have had quite the harrowing adventure down there."

"Maybe you'll let us in on what happened sometime, eh boss?"

"Maybe, Gazlowe." Thrall said as he started to walk away. "But today will not be that day."

***

"Submit... submit..."

Thrall could hear the words repeating like an echo in his mind, he walked through the night air toward the large building in the center of Orgrimmar, each attempt to acknowledge any passerby or to ask for help resulted in a painful impulse to keep walking. His stomach felt as though it had twisted, like something inside of him was forcing him to continue, the pace only picked up the harder he tried to resist it, and as he reached the doorway to the warchief's hut, he about collapsed onto his hand as it lurched in the passage and grabbed the frame. He tried to speak, but all that exited his mouth was a sharp breath and a little bit of drool as he tried to force himself to say something, anything to the attendants. "Go, leave me." He said. Thrall couldn't control the words, he wanted to say "Help me" and instead he ushered the troll and tauren guarding the place. As he staggered in, he managed to speak to whatever it was controlling him. "What--do you--want?"

"Revenge..." The vicious voice curdled from the back of his throat, making Thrall feel like he was physically vomiting the words out, his face contorted into a cruel smile that he could feel, but he could not act upon. He stumbled into the warroom and without any control of his own, he began to remove his armor.

First his breastplate hit the floor, the clinking of the metal echoed around the room as he grabbed his cuffs one after the other and removed his gauntlets, then his boots, then his trousers until he was left in nothing more than his scant undergarments that fluttered on the breeze, leaving little to nothing to the imagination. "That's better, isn't it?" The voice asked using Thrall's mouth.

Thrall could feel a surge of energy rush through him, the thrill of being so naked and the chance of getting caught delivering strange sensations and pleasures to his skin. "Yes..." He said in his mind. "But what are you planning to do with me?"

Thrall couldn't predict that he was about to start moving, glancing at his thick muscular body in a tall mirror, he turned side to side, admiring his physique. The voice that had infested him didn't say anything, and instead forced him to make his way out the back of the hut still dressed only in his undergarment. He couldn't turn his head, but through his peripheral, Thrall could see that no one noticed him step outside and in a blink, he transformed into a ghostly wolf form. The invading mind seemed to have an even better control over this and he took off in a run and before long he was running through the side entrance of the city and running toward the dim firelight that could be seen from miles away; he was headed into Quilboar territory, and there was nothing he could do to stop himself...

The full moon was shining down against the brilliant light of the campfire as Chieftain Zok sat perched at the highest point of their camp. He was barely dressed, a single toga wrap around his waist leaving nothing to the imagination as he snorted and watched the other quilboar grunt, and rally and argue over the food that they would hurl at one another or cook over the flames. Quilboar were by nature not the cleanest of creatures and he reveled in it. The manner at which they ravenously ate their food, wolfing down hunks of vegetables, chunks of roasted Strider meat, tackling and wrestling with each other for every scrap really got his crank turning, chortling as a pair of males who were a little close to the fire for comfort began to tear at one another's clothing for the last big raptor egg. But a familiar scent distracted him at the last moment, Zok sniffed the air with a snort and he looked around in confusion. "I smell something..." He said, raising an almost dismissive hand to the group, but they refused to settle down on the subtle gesture. "SHUUUUUUUUT UPPPPPP!" He hollered loudly enough to make the ground shake under their feet, immediately causing pause in the ruckus as the tribe stared at him. Lazily the chief got out of his makeshift throne and snorted, grabbing a spear from his side before edging his way toward the darkness. "Who goes there?" He asked

To their surprise, the massive form of the former Warchief emerged from the darkness, prompting all the Quilboar to take a step back in shock as a gust of wind almost ominously followed his arrival. His form looked limp, and he was dressed in practically nothing. It took a moment for Zok to stammer his response to Thrall's appearance. "W-Warchief. What are you doing here? These Quilboar lands! You gave us sanctuary."

Thrall's eyes slowly trailed to the Quilboar chief. "I am aware of this. But I... I have a different mission for this evening."

Zok's eyes narrowed. "Yes? What is it?"

Thrall's mind was raging at this, but he was unable to wrest control from this invading creature that had sapped his will to move or even think independently. It was as if he was watching someone else act through a mirror, his own reflection acting of its own accord, and he was powerless to stop himself from answering. "I want to be used by you."

Thrall's answer had set forth a range of reactions by the Quilboar, from drink spitting, to shrieks of disbelief to even laughter. Thrall fell to his knees and stared directly into Zok's eyes. "Please, Chief Zok. I wish nothing more than to be fucked, than to be treated like nothing more than a sex toy to you and your tribe. It is something that's been weighing on my mind for many years now. I. Want. To. Be. Used."

"You." The boar asked, stroking his fingers along his snout and his tusks like rolling them along a long, refined beard. He guffawed and snorted. "You want this? Why?"

"Does it matter?" Thrall asked.

Zok paused and hummed in thought as he slowly walked in a circle around the orc. His eyes slowly going over him like a piece of green meat. "Then why should I believe you? Where are your guards? Surely this is nothing more than a trick..." He paused as the orc's hand grabbed the chief's dangling, partly exposed cock and he made a shrill sound as if Thrall were about to rip it off, but instead, he pulled the boar closer and wrapped his lips and tongue around the chief's stubby meat, which immediately sprang to life and quickly fill his lips. He was definitely a grower, Zok's balls hung lower than his basket, but in an instant, Thrall found himself with more than a handful of his own.

Zok was a filthy, disgusting Quilboar. His belly could hold Thrall as if it were a Stockade build just for him. His fur was pink and brown, full of balding patches and mange. He was hideous to look at. In his mind, Thrall was recoiling from the very thought at having the stubby chief's cock in his mouth. It tasted of dirt and smoke, and of many unnatural flavors, it was repulsive and he couldn't fight his own body to take control. "S-Stop it!" He howled into the darkness of his mind, tasting the shaft in his mouth, feeling Zok's hands shoving down on his head as he rammed his cock deeper and deeper into the Warchief's gullet. "This can't be... happening to me!"

Oh but it was, the presence inside Thrall's body making him do unspeakable acts on the quilboar chief while the rest of his male tribe watched in astonishment, that was actually happening. And after several minutes of this humiliating and shameful display, Zok huffed and humped into the orc's mouth, firing several pumps of his load deep down his throat with a physical shudder to his body. Eventually Zok pulled out, letting the seed drip from the orc's mouth as he took a step back, a bemused grin on his muzzle. "What are you, Thrall? What is this act to you?"

"It is what I desire." Thrall replied aloud. "I am nothing but a lowly worm, unfit for any other tasks than to be an open and endless hole. For you and your tribe. I-I can't help myself I want to be that for you, for your tribe. I wish to be a part of the quilboar..." He jolted as Thrall's fight from within began to push through, but in a show of force, the essence within won out, shoving Thrall's consciousness back into the abyss. He chuckled and leaned forward. "Please, I wish to be worthy of your tribe, and of you Chieftain." He admitted, bowing his head down and touching the ground with it, lifting his ass into the air as a sign of submission. "Let me prove my love to you."

"Love?" Thrall seemed to think it just as Zok spoke it. Could he be seriously trying to get him together with this fat, disgusting pig?

"Well, well. How the mighty have gotten kinky. I didn't think you were into my kind like this, orc."

"Not "your kind"." Thrall answered. "You." He added. "I wish nothing more than to please you, to spend my life serving you as--your mate."

The chief's eyes glimmered as he heard this. "Really?" He asked with a snort. "My kind have certain... traditions to keep if you are seriously offering something like this for me, Thrall. Are you prepared?"

"Always." Thrall answered matter-of-factly.

"Then submit yourself for the approval of my tribe this night, and if they approve and I approve of what I see... I may consider your proposal." He grinned.

Thrall didn't have more than a moment to process the glance Zok gave the rest of his tribe and just as quickly as it happened, Thrall felt a collection of hands grapple his underwear and ass, pulling him rather violently up to his knees. He felt the trailing moisture of tongues slathering across his chest as his undercloth was torn from his body, exposing his ass, balls and cock even more openly to the cool night air. They turned him over and threw him onto his back and he grunted as several hungry fingers began to feel him all over. They tugged at the pelt of hair on his chest and pulled him wildly between all of them. He felt mouths in his lower regions, sucking on his member, fondling his balls with their tongues, eating deep into his ass as his legs were spread out.

"He's a hairy one, yes?" One of the boars asked.

"Yes, yes. Boss doesn't like that." Another one answered. "We're going to have to sheer him like a pig--"

"Like a sheep." Another one pointed out.

"Oh, whatever!"

"Sheer?" Thrall asked himself as he struggled again to regain control of his body, just one blast of lightning and they'd think twice about manhandling him like this--but something was still keeping him stationary. He could hear himself moan in pleasure as their hands grazed across his body, gently gliding a knife along his flesh, beginning to slowly slash away at the hair. He felt something pressing against his ass, and into his mind, Thrall prepared himself for the quilboar 'tusk' to thrust into him. Only to hear a commotion.

"No! This is for Zok, if you want to fuck him you need to fuck his face.

"I'd rather sit on this." Another boar said as he climbed onto Thrall's stomach, his contorted, erect cock sliding along the orc's skin up toward his face as it drizzled precum all over his chest. He growled and pinned him down. "Not like the boss will be using it, right?"

"I like your thinking." Another said as he approached from Thrall's left, turning his head over and shoving his member into the orc's mouth, shoving it down his throat as Thrall moaned and shuddered, enjoying the feeling of being taken by so many tribesmen at the same time. He'd even forgotten for a moment that they were shaving him still. The irritation of the blade along his skin began to grate on him though and his body twitched in response to it as the boar on his stomach began to slide down his cock, sinking it deep into the warm, tight hole. "Nnfff gonna need a bath after this, eh orc?" He laughed and moaned, continuing to pleasure Thrall by driving himself harder and deeper to the hilt. Without missing a beat, Thrall felt his body suddenly tossed over onto his stomach and the shaving blade began to ride over his lower regions from the other side, the boar now under him had his legs spread wide, sheer gravity was driving him in deeper and deeper as they shaved him. He knew that one wrong move could leave him with a lot less to be desired. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was screaming for release, but something else was making its way through his body; the urge to climax.

As his growls became more intense however, the ones grooming Thrall pulled him apart from the warm hole of the other boar. He was man handled and thrown to the ground, they locked their arms around Thrall's head and began to cut away at his hair, he looked down at himself and realized he was as bald as a newborn baby and they weren't slowing down anytime soon. His eyes began to glaze over, he never felt the urge to well up before, but this...this humiliation was far, far beyond his capacity to imagine. As they worked on shaving his head, his beard, every hair from his jawline he saw other men approach with needles and paints, this wasn't just a fun night to prove himself to the chief; this was an out-and-out initiation into the tribe, a test of some sort that he had to endure. He was being prepared to become the chief's mate, and all that it entailed... Thrall closed his eyes and felt everything sink in...

***

Several hours had passed from the moment this started; the pain was so much it was blinding as Thrall's body was physically covered in a canvas of tribal tattoos. He was provided a hearty feast and was forced to gorge himself on it. Then from whatever physical trials he had to endure to the sheer shock of everything, at some point Thrall had passed out. He woke to find himself lying naked and alone in the middle of the encampment; the fires had long since gone out, but smoke could still be seen rising from the pit. A flick of light caught his attention, and he saw Zok sitting on his throne not far from him. Thrall didn't move, nor did he try to will his body to move of his accord, everything on him ached and the chief still stared him up and down, admiring the many colors of tattoos now etched into the orc's green surface. He stared at the Quilboar, who returned the gaze back at him. "Do you like the pipe? Got it off a goblin salesman a few moons ago. Makes me look like a sophisticated man..." He snorted. "Am I sophisticated enough for the mighty Thrall?"

"It does not matter." Thrall felt himself speak, even being so exhausted he couldn't stop himself. "My love for you is new and exciting and I want more..."

"Really?" Zok asked, gesturing his pipe to the man's body. "Even after all this, you still desire to be my mate?"

"Always."

Zok uncrossed his legs and got off his throne before sauntering over toward the orc. He grabbed the man's bald head and forced his hefty, smelly balls into Thrall's face. Thrall shuddered at the smell. He should have felt repulsion, the smell was almost rancid to him, but instantly he became aroused and let his face rest against the boar for several moments until Zok finally released him. "Hm that reaction is unexpected, my kind is generally...disgusting to yours. Why do you tell me this now?"

"It was a... recent revelation." Thrall answered. "I've desired change for many years now and it took many years to realize the type of man I was."

"Disgusting?"

"Revolting." Thrall answered with a grin as the pair pressed their foreheads together. "The things I want to have done to me, only you can fulfill..."

Zok let out a bit of an excited squeal. "Issat so?" He asked in a slurred sort of voice before pushing Thrall to the ground. "Then I accept you, Thrall. As my first mate. Should I take another, They would be subservient to you as you are required to be to me." He paused. "Do you accept?"

"Yes. I, Thrall of Orgrimmar accept your proposal."

"No. Not of Orgrimmar; for this, I think we should be far from the temptation to return to your life. The temptation to leave me should be met with disdain and brutal punishment."

"Then I will not be tempted."

"Then please me, Thrall. Prove to me your worth of becoming my mate."

Thrall was overwhelmed by Zok's forceful shove to the ground as the boar seated his crotch on the orc's face, drowning him in the thick musky aroma of a quilboar cock. The smell of sex and precum dripping from Zok's meat began to drizzle down his face and Thrall instantly began to drag his tongue along it. His hands resting against the boar's coarse thigh fur as he tasted the equally coarse fur along the boar's balls, and then his taint. He must have been pretty pent up, because every lick the orc made only drove another pulse of precum down his shaft, adding to the coat of it still wetting his face. After a few minutes of this, the boar wiggled his toes and stood up, shoving them into Thrall's face. "Lick them." He said with a stern need to his voice. "Lick them clean." He insisted.

The orc did so, taking each foot, one at a time and dragging his gleaming tongue along the dirtied, smelly feet belonging to the boar. Zok giggled in spite of himself due to how ticklish his toes were, he sat back on Thrall's massive chest and enjoyed as the man indulged one foot, then the other and back to the original a few times until Zok put a stop to it with a hand. He then stood up and turned around, presenting his plump quilboar ass to the warchief. "This is the test, but you won't be using it tonight, I will make you my bride tonight Thrall, but only if you can manage to take advantage of this with your tongue.

"No, no, no!" Thrall screamed internally, but the essence of the being within him seemed to be amused.

"It would be my pleasure." He heard himself speak, making Thrall want to retch for touching a large quilboar ass.

His hands rested against Zok's backside, spreading it apart he was actually somewhat surprised that it was one of his few underareas that didn't reek, but as he applied his tongue to the deep, dark cleft, he realized that this was going to be harder than he thought as his tongue began to escalate and lap across other areas of the boar's ass. Indulging every inch, especially the center with the kind of care and passion only a wife could provide to her husband. In this case, an orc wife to provide for his husband. His tongue sank deep into Zok's hole again and again. He could feel it pulse and tighten around it, threatening to take hold each time Thrall's tongue pushed in far enough. Zok's butt was round and plump, it rippled every time Thrall's face struck it and it wasn't the best looking mesh of fur either, some degree of mange had splotched it with odd colors and flesh tones hidden underneath the thinning pelt. As much as he was repulsed by this, he couldn't force himself to look away Zok wouldn't let him and kept grabbing the orc's head and shoving it in harder and harder as his thick hunk of meat expanded down between his legs.

"That's good enough, mate. Turn over for me." The quilboar barked an order and immediately Thrall found himself turning onto his hands and knees in front of the chief who dragged his thick cock along the green, hairless ass. He gave a lewd chuckle and spit onto the head of his shaft, rubbing it in with the cheeks before pressing it into position. He didn't give a single word of warning before suddenly plunging hard and deep into Thrall's ass.

Thrall howled out in pain, his nails scratching at the earth under him as his hands became fists and he pounded the dirt below him. He huffed loudly, his entire body shaking from the encounter. This was to be his life then? To turn over and get fucked whenever Zok wanted it? His mind was racing at the thought, he knew he didn't want it and yet...he was powerless to even try resisting now, feeling the heat of the pig shaft in him, prodding at his insides to the point where he was getting aroused just from the pressure and in moments he climaxed his first volley of cum all over the ground under him. Zok reached around the orc and grabbed his crotch, helping to milk it by squeezing on the shaft hard, this only pushed him over the edge again and he gave a second gasp, cumming again within thirty seconds more.

He didn't know how many times he came, Thrall was a shivering mess by this point, he'd never known such pleasure and such humiliation all at once. He was roaring loudly into the crook of his arm as Zok took advantage of him, soon enough Thrall noticed the sun was rising and several more quilboar had arrived, stroking themselves, waiting for their turn.

"NNNAHHHHH Yeahhhhh!" Zok moaned and let out a loud pig-like squeal as he came hard, flooding Thrall's insides with what felt like lava. "Fuckkk...." He panted as he collapsed over the orc's ass. Slowly he withdrew himself, letting a fountain of cum pour from him and let it spill onto the ground. He looked around at the gathered boars before dipping his smallest finger into the pot of ink and sliding a tally across the orc's left cheek. "You boys listen here. This orc's ass is mine first and will always be mine. You can play with him when I'm not, long as you keep a tally that we can reset daily we're good." He chuckled and smacked Thrall's ass hard making him yelp in pain as he was still trying to recover from the night. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm gonna turn in. This orc is officially initiated into this tribe and into my bed. Anyone who wishes to challenge me for him can do so. For now though, you boys have fun."

Thrall swallowed nervously as he watched the twenty five other males slowly encroach on him, one thing was for sure, he was going to have several more notches across his ass before the day was up.

Sometime after his first encounter, Thrall followed the tribe to the southern tip of Tanaris, taking up refuge in the abandoned human cove well out of sight from any that may recognize him. Thrall had turned from a proud warrior to the complacent ass of the tribe and spouse of Chief Zok; even his own titles had vanished with this new identity. Day after day, he did the cooking and cleaning of his and Zok's den, was shown to many degrees of sexual humiliation and before he knew it, ten years had passed and Thrall was not as he used to be. Gone were his thick muscles, his proud jawline. Having gained nearly two hundred pounds, he was nothing more than a thick, bald, green Quilboar himself. He rallied behind them in any encounter they had against the Horde and the Alliance, and he adapted to this new life. Accepting himself and his tribe for who they had become.

Only in his twelfth year with the tribe had he come to realize that whatever presence had taken him that day... it had dissipated. Perhaps hours if not days after he pledged himself to his mate and his new life. He only realized it when he inadvertently found himself doing the same routine he'd been doing for the last decade and finding he would do it a little differently. Or he would say what he thought instead of what was expected of him. How long he was free was beyond him...and yet...he continued on. Living his own life away from the Horde and away from his old identity. At last, he'd found the peace he'd looked for for so long. And he had settled into that content.

THE END