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Idolized (Part 5)

Toby licked his lips, eyeing the drooling green cock a couple of feet from his face, smelling the musk rolling over him. He looked over at the Professor Jeral, likely lost before he could get here, and wondered what he should be feeling. He was…brilliant, and yet watching him slobber all over the chief’s skin, seeing him lose himself in the pleasure of the tribe…Toby found himself longing for it. “No–No, I…but I–” he stammered, but he found himself losing the words even as he spoke them. Kal’Ragek didn’t need words, the lord demanded action. He knelt lower, kissing the chief’s feet, licking the dust from them, tasting them, and worked his way higher until the chief–his chief–allowed him to suck at his cock, and taste him again. Kal’Ragek could forgive, and Toby–he desired forgiveness more than anything else.

An hour later, the three of them returned to the tribe, and were welcomed back into the fold. Professor Jeral was presented to Kal’Ragek, and he immediately fell to his knees, ass high, ready to be brought into the tribe. Other men were there as well–more men than Toby recalled there being when he’d left earlier. They were…being drawn here. Kal’ragek was powerful enough now to pull them in, to begin rebuilding what he had lost.

“Go, brother. Bring him in. Give yourself to our Lord and prove you are not an enemy, accept your name, and your place at my side.”

Toby stepped forward, running his hands over his professor’s ass, feeling how smooth his skin was–remembering how smooth his own skin had been, the old man flinching for a moment, and then relaxing. Toby stroked his cock until it was fully erect, nearly ten inches with a thick foreskin even larger than the chiefs, his balls aching below. Kal’Ragek was present–around him, and within him, as he slid his cock in his professor’s hole, listening to him groan with pleasure, Toby’s eyes locked on the glowing idol before him. Why had he been so afraid, before? There was no room for fear here–this was only room for power.

He felt his body swelling, the clothes he’d thown on tearing to bits within seconds, as his bones shifted and cracked. He’d grown substantially before this, but he recalled how Darren had exploded in size when he’d taken his new name–was he ready for this? Was he ready to give up everything he’d been? He gripped Jeral’s hips tight and thrust harder, both of them panting and groaning in unison, the tribe around them staring in rapture. He had to keep shifting position as he grew taller and broader, his face aching–his new face. His brow was thickening, his nose wider, the thick beard he’d sprouted over the past days growing longer until it hung below his chest, the hair on his head lengthening as well and turning a deep, oily black and lastly his teeth. He gritted them, feeling them sharpen, cutting into his gums, his incisors growing faster as his jaw widened, pressing out from his his mouth into tusks, wet with slobber and blood.

Kal’Ragek was there, inside him, and nothing else was anymore. The fear was gone, the knowledge of that old world fading faster, and he allowed it to go. They would create a new world now, like he had been created anew. His name was To’Rak, of the highest clan, second to the chief. He would never fear again, so long as the light of Kal’Ragek shone within him–may it never be doused for a thousand years.

A week after Darren first discovered the idol of Kal’Ragek, the campsite near the excavation site was empty. A crew of workers arrived to deliver a load of food and supplies, only to discover every tent was empty–it was like everyone had simply disappeared overnight. The excavation site was another mystery. It too was abandoned, but it looked like it had been ransacked at some point. Items had been taken seemingly at random, both from the storage and preservation areas, and also from within the ground. New holes had been dug, seemingly at random, and several objects of great size had been hauled from the ground and dragged away–but the trail ended at the edge of some woods.

The country buried the event, but the various explanations offered–everything from an attack by wild animals to mysterious kidnapping by a rogue terrorist organization–failed to satisfy the families of the men who had disappeared. The few women who had been at the dig site, however, appeared a couple of weeks later, unharmed, but with no memories at all of what had happened at the site, aside from a few wild tales of sex, and an eerie green light. In time, people stopped paying attention, as they do, and the mysterious disappearance was forgotten. The excavation site became the property of the military, but nothing of any worth was found, because the tribe had already reclaimed everything that mattered.

Kal’Ragek did not desire the world–a few scores of men worshipping him was more than enough to keep him satisfied. The tribe lived in the wilderness, and within six months they had all been granted new names, and with them, had lost all memory of the worlds they had come from. Darr’Rak, with To’Rak at his side, were capable leaders. The tribe prospered and flourished as it had all those centuries ago. It was the twelfth such tribe that had existed–but Kal’Ragek believed this one would last a long time.

The legend of the disappearance would lead the occasional group to go out and search for evidence of what had happened to the men working on the excavation. Generally, these attempts were short lived. The military would generally see them coming, and detain the searchers for a few days, long enough to discourage them from continuing their pursuit, but on occasion, some particularly dedicated parties would delve deeper–through the thick woods where the drag marks had stopped, to the mountainous foothills beyond. It was an inhospitable place, generally, but it took hard times to make the greatest tribes.

The search parties might catch the occasional scent on the wind. Something none of them had ever smelled before. At night, there would be the occasional green glow behind the lower foothills, and the men would find themselves drawn deeper into the mountains, while the women, unnerved, would flee. By the time they found the tribe, Kal’Ragek would have been in their minds for days, softening and preparing them. Below, in the middle of the tribal camp, would be the idols, and the orcs would gather to accept the newest members of the tribe as they came down into the valley and bowed to their new lord, presenting their holes for their new brothers.

Of course, a few dodged that fate and managed to make it back to their civilizations. No one believed them, of course. Their dreams were haunted all the same–filled with the green of the idol, that distant voice they could barely hear, and a deep, bone shaking sense of regret. They all returned, eventually, and were taken in as equals. Kal’Ragek always forgives, after all, unless you are an enemy, but why be an enemy when you can join the tribe?

lol jobs aren’t a construct of capitalism, they very much have existed before capitalism and still exist within the frameworks of other economic systems

*Labor* has existed in every economic system, both in capitalism and in earlier times, but the concept of a “job”–that is, a form of labor mediated by an employer/employee relationship–didn’t exist prior to the rise of capital. 

A lot of this just depends on how broad of a definition of the word we want to use–if you mean it broadly, that is, having a job is doing any form of labor at all, then yes, of course you’re right. I don’t think that’s a good definition (after all, I don’t think people would consider slave labor to be a “job”) but I also assume that isn’t the meaning you meant. On the other hand, you can define the term so narrowly that it becomes circular, and I wouldn’t want that either.

So let me meet you halfway. In previous economic systems, people had things that we would describe as jobs, sure. But, I would argue in reply, that the relationship those people had between their labor, their “employer” and the economic structures of the time, were vastly different than our own, and so, not really at all comparable to our general use of the term job. 

In fact, if you look at the etymology of the term, it’s actually fairly young: (http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=job). The first use only dates back to the 1600′s, which is after the last major economic system, Feaudalism, is generally considered to have ended. Even then, it wasn’t used as we use it now–it simply meant “a task” or “a thing that needed to be done.” It took on the meaning of “work for pay” around 1650, and didn’t mean a “paid position” until the mid 1800′s, that is, well within the Capitalist Era. The much older word, which would have been used in the Feudal Era was simply work, and it’s earlier etymologies, since the term ‘job’ didn’t yet exist.

In any case, “jobs” very much are a construct of the dominant capitalist system, regardless of whether something like a job existed in prior economic systems. It’s an aspect of alienation, a way of disguising the relationship a worker has with their own labor–and the means of production. 

tl;dr – Economic and social oppression doesn’t really give a fuck about semantics. It’s still there whether you want to argue like a pedant or not.

If you could have any job in the world, what would it be? Writing?

I think jobs are constructs of capitalism, so I’d rather jobs not exist, if we’re talking utopia.

As for what kind of labor I enjoy, yeah, writing is up there, but I think that if I had to write all the time, no matter what I was writing, I would go a bit more insane than I already am. I have to be doing something with my hands too, actually making something. I very much enjoyed baking while I did it, and if I didn’t have to worry about the sorry living, I wouldn’t mind doing that again, perhaps. 

I don’t know, jobs are a lot like kinks–you can convince yourself you like something if you try it enough times, even if you know you shouldn’t. 

I guess this is a multi-part question. Are you in a long-term relationship with anybody, and if you are, how much do they know about the stuff you write? Are they interested in it as well, or do they just accept it as a part of you? Did you specifically look for somebody who had similar turn-ons?

Yes, I’ve been with my husband for close to ten years now, and married for around eight. He knows about the stuff I write, but is not particularly interested or turned on by it, but it doesn’t bother him that I write it. Our kinks are very different, but, the relationship works for us. I wasn’t looking for someone to match my kinks with by any means. 

It’s a bit of a struggle, I suppose, trying to figure out how to balance the sexual and the romantic. I had a very, very awful experience with a dom who was extremely abusive, which really put me off from pursuing real life kink experiences for many years, and for a lot of other reasons, sex has always been difficult for me. It’s only been in the last couple of years, that I’ve been able to step out a bit and expand myself sexually, both with him and others, after we both felt comfortable opening up our relationship.

Where do you think kinks originate from? So for example: person a likes rope and bondage. Where do you think that desire came from?

I think this is a bad question, because it has some unhealthy assumptions about human development. I think the way people develop is incredibly complex, and I doubt there’s a neat explanation for any topic regarding human sexuality, or human behavior in general, even if we like to think there should be a simple “origin” to something like kink.

I mean, there’s a bit of a chicken and egg problem, right? Do we pursue the kink because we are initially interested in it, or does the interest begin to bloom through experience and exposure to the kink itself? Let me put it another way–is it possible to really imagine someone who is “into” bondage prior to any knowledge or experience of bondage? Don’t we need the word/category before we can begin desiring it?

My larger question is this: are we somehow developmentally hardwired, either by nature or nurture, to desire certain things, sexual or no? I mean, there is, of course, some fundamental sexual desire which is fundamentally natural, but the point at which is blurs with development and choice becomes very, very murky. 

Honestly? I don’t think kinks are part of who we are at all. I enjoy piss, and rimming, and pits, and all of these other things, but I don’t enjoy them because they originated in me somehow–I enjoy them because my experiences with the acts have all, by and large, been pleasurable. I do my best to take full responsibility for the things I enjoy–I don’t feel alienated from them, like they are some force within me that I can’t control. 

Your kinks are yours. Own them. You made them. It isn’t something you should feel ashamed of, and alienating yourself from your own desires will just make you feel awful for pursuing them. 

How much shit is safe to eat?

As far as sex goes, I don’t really think the question of safe/unsafe is really that helpful to ask. The better frame, I think, is risk.

All sex carries risk–hell, most every action we take in the world carries risk of one sort or the other. Scat is risky sex–risk of illness in particular–and it isn’t a question of *amount*, if anything it’s a question of who your partner’s are, what their current health situation is, and other possible risk/health factors like that. 

The only person who can determine how much risk you want to take on, and whether the complimentary reward/pleasure is great enough to carry it. I can’t make that judgement for you, and safety is bullshit anyway. What we mean when we talk about safety is lack of consequence, but the risk doesn’t go away.

The best advice I can give you is to be informed, talk about potential health risks with your partner(s), know that the risk is there, and own whatever decision you make.  

Idolized (Part 4)

He’d forgotten that the sun shone too.

How long had he been in that tent, with Darr’Rak? No–with Darren–his name was Darren! He couldn’t remember exactly–two days? Three? The sun was setting now, behind the mountain rage to the northwest, and staring at the glow, he found himself thinking of the light of Kal’Ragek. The voice was in him, distant but there, telling him that if he returned now, there would be no punishment, that Kal’Ragek could forgive a minor crisis of faith. Instead, Toby ran further away from Darren’s tent, away from that cursed idol, until he couldn’t hear the voice anymore, until he could be sure that what he was hearing was him, and him alone.

The last few days felt like a dream to him, an intense, incredibly pleasurable dream, and one he still longed to return to, even though he knew it was wrong. He and Darren had fucked constantly that first evening and night, he could remember that, paying tribute to their new lord, filling one another with their seed, using it to polish their idol to an even more intense shine. Then, Darren left, and he returned with a third young man, and together…together they brought him into the fold as well, then a fourth had joined soon after. The night before, they had been forced to move to a larger space, and they commandeered a supply tent that was barely used. There, around dawn, Darren had become…Darr’Rak. It was an image seared into his brain, the sight of their god giving the First the true gift, removing the last of his humanity, marking him as the chieftain of their reborn tribe. The sight of him, the smell of him…it was intoxicating. Toby had crawled over, shoving his face into Darr’Rak’s reeking pits, tasting the hair there, along with the others–they had served him for hours in the light of their lord, Toby was priviliged to be the first to fuck himself on the chief’s foot long cock. Looking up at him, he realized that this is what he would become as well, soon enough, but he wouldn’t allow that to happen to him. He refused to give in and become…whatever it was Darren was now. While the rest of the tribe had returned to worship, and while Kal’Ragek’s eyes were away from him, he’d found some clothes stashed in a crate, thrown them on, and slipped away–but now what?

He looked down at himself, at his mostly green arms and feet, his hulking frame, the thick hands, the hair covering his arms, chest and shoulders…he was a monster. A beast. A servant of his lord in his image. He shook his head, but the voice was still there–perhaps it would never be gone. This had to end, in any case–Darr’Rak had to be stopped before things could spread any further…but how?

He could hear men at the mess tent eating dinner, but he froze. If they saw him, what would they think? Away from the tribe, without the voice of his lord…he felt so empty. He hadn’t realized how hard it had become to think, since Darren had infected him, but his mind couldn’t formulate any ideas–there were just emotions and simple urges, and any attempt to build past that, towards a plan, felt impossible. He needed someone smart, and someone he could trust. Someone who would know him, hopefully. He had to get to Professor Jeral, but he had to get him alone first.

He waited until night fell, and then found his way to the professor’s tent, avoiding being seen by anyone else in the meantime. The longer he was away from the tribe, the clearer his head became, which was a relief. He’d nearly…lost himself, or allowed Kal’Ragek to devour him, which is what it had felt like was happening. It was like everything about him was being sucked away, and replaced by some monster, and he’d…wanted it. Still, how would his teacher react to the sight of him? He hesitated outside for a few minutes, but he had no choice. The tribe must have realized he’d gone missing by now–if he didn’t alert everyone soon…well, he knew what Kal’Ragek wanted. It wanted its tribe back, and wanted every man it could find to join it.

“P-Professor?” His voice was so deep, it barely even sounded like him.

No one responded immediately, and he wondered if, perhaps, he wasn’t in the tent and had gone to the bathroom, but after a moment there was a low moan–a sound both of terror and arousal he was intimately familiar with. His heart froze, and Toby smelled it wafting out from within the tent, the heady musk. He needed to run, but his head was growing thick again and his cock was hardening, and when Darr’Rak’s hand reached out from the tent and grabbed him by the upper arm, he allowed the huge beast to pull him inside as well.

The professor was there, naked, soaked in sweat, eyes glazed over. He was a sizable man and still in good shape from his excursions around the world to various dig sites, but beside Darr’Rak he looked puny, almost childlike. The professor pushed his way under the chief’s arm, fighting to get closer to the chief’s sweaty pits. Darr’Rak sat down heavily on the cot, the metal frame groaning under his size, but it only bent slightly.

“I…thought you might come here, when I saw you gone,” Darr’Rak said. His voice was deep and gutteral, the words twisted by the two tusks which had pushed their way from his bottom jaw and over his upper lips. “Very bad, leaving–Kal’Ragek is very angry. The lord wonders if I chose wrong, in you.”

Their lord’s name…it was the first time Toby had heard it said properly. If fell from the chief’s mouth so naturally, the way his thick tongue could press against his tusks, the sharp click of teeth at the end of the name. He tried to keep his head clear, tried to keep what little clarity had returned to him in his hours away from the tribe, but the musk, the sound of his Lord’s name–he’d been wrong, wrong to try and run. What had he been thinking? He pushed forward, eager to smell his chief’s musk, eager to worship him like the older professor was, but when he tried, Darr’Rak tugged down hard on his arm, forcing Toby onto his knees.

“Kal’Ragek understands fear,” the chief said, looking down at Toby, “But fear is for enemies of his tribe–a true disciple has no fear.” He paused, and looked over Toby below him, pleased by how far he had come very far in the last few days, since joining him in the tribe. He was close now, to accepting Kal’Ragek, to being truly named, as he now was. “Are you an enemy of the tribe?”