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Chapter 4 - Female Orc? Muscle Mommy?

Virelle sat motionless inside the cage, unsure of what the hell was going on.

In front of her, the two hulking humanoid creatures—Orcs, as she now suspected—were engaged in a full-blown fistfight.

All because they couldn't agree on who was uglier.

"YOU ARE UGLY!!"

BOOM.

"NO, YOU'RE UGLY!!"

BOOOOM.

Each punch echoed like a cannon blast.

Shockwaves tore through the air, lifting Virelle's hair, fluttering her torn slave clothes. Her bones rattled with each blow they exchanged, fists smashing into each other—or sometimes into each other's faces—with ground-shaking force.

She stared, wide-eyed.

'This isn't Earth anymore.'

These weren't men in cosplay. These weren't actors. These weren't rubber suits or CGI.

'This is real. This is another world. And these… are actual Orcs.'

One was broader—bulkier—but his muscles were strangely lean. He carried himself with the stiffness of someone who thought he was smarter than he actually was.

The other?

Clearly the emotional one.

The one who'd asked her if he was ugly. The one she'd lied to.

He fought like a toddler in a rage—but with the strength of a wrecking ball.

They kept shouting insults.

"You're ugly!"

"No, YOU'RE ugly!"

Boom. Boom. Boom.

She should have been terrified.

But honestly?

It was kind of surreal.

Her thoughts spiraled—her new body, the system, the brawling orcs that looked like they belonged in a fever dream——when suddenly—

"WHAT. ARE. YOU. TWO. DOING!?"

A sharp, shrill voice cut through the chaos.

It came from somewhere behind the trees.

It wasn't loud because of size—it was loud because of authority. It carried.

Everything stopped.

The two orcs froze mid-punch—fists inches from each other's faces.

Even the air seemed to pause.

Virelle snapped out of her daze, blinking toward the direction of the voice.

'What now...?'

The sound of snapping branches echoed from the trees, followed by heavy footsteps pounding against the dirt.

Virelle held her breath.

The two massive Orcs—who had been brawling like overgrown children moments ago—immediately stopped and stood side by side.

Like kids caught doing something stupid.

Silent.

Stiff.

And seeing this, her heart didn't just race—it stampeded

'What could possibly make these two monsters freeze up like that...?'

Something was coming.

Something dangerous enough to make them shut up.

Then—she saw it.

Not it. Her.

An orc.

A Female one.

Unlike the two bumbling brutes, she radiated dominance.

The aura she gave off wasn't just strength.

It was command.

And when she spoke—

"What are you two doing? Because of your noise, half the prey ran off!"

Her voice was rough—gravelly—but unmistakably feminine. Not delicate like a human noblewoman's, but not unpleasant either. It had bite, but it was still… womanly.

Virelle didn't know why, but she didn't mind hearing it.

"Sorry, Melinda…"

"We're sorry, Melinda…"

Both orcs looked down like scolded puppies, their fists still curled at their sides.

Melinda crossed her arms and sighed.

She didn't even bother hitting them this time.

She knew it wouldn't work.

They were just like the other male orcs—big muscles, small brains.

Melinda turned her gaze toward Virelle.

And in that moment—Virelle's heart sank.

It wasn't like before, when she was terrified of the male orcs' brute strength.

This was different.

This was worse.

It wasn't just fear of being crushed or killed.

It was the suffocating awareness that this woman—this Orc—could see through her.

Melinda's eyes weren't empty.

They were… curious. And hungry.

"Hmm," the orc woman muttered, almost to herself. "A human breeder, huh?"

Her voice was low, rough, but laced with interest now.

Virelle tensed.

Her entire body froze under the weight of that gaze.

Melinda's eyes were feline. Focused. Calculating.

And worse—They wanted something.

'What's going on…?'

Virelle's panic started to rise again.

The two male orcs had been like toddlers in comparison to this female orc, Melinda.

She was something else entirely—smarter, sharper, colder.

She didn't just look at Virelle like prey.

She looked at her like an opportunity.

And Virelle could feel it deep in her bones—

She was in danger again.

"You two…" Melinda's eyes narrowed, her voice firm. "I won't beat you this time. You've actually brought back something useful for the tribe."

She turned her head slightly, eyes flicking toward the cage holding Virelle.

"Now pick it up. We're heading back. We'll present this gift to the Matriarch. Hopefully, she'll be pleased enough to forgive you for coming back without food."

The word made something in Virelle's stomach twist.

Who was the Matriarch?

Another orc? A queen?

Whatever she was—Virelle could already feel the chains tightening.

"Yes, Melinda. We understand."

"Okay, Melinda."

The two orcs nodded like obedient soldiers, then stepped toward the cage.

With one taking each side, they grabbed the iron bars and lifted the entire thing effortlessly, as if it weighed nothing.

Virelle stared in disbelief.

'Seriously? They just lifted this like it's made of feathers?'

She gripped the bars tightly, bracing herself, worried she might bounce around like before—but to her surprise, the orcs moved with surprising care, keeping the cage mostly stable.

A small sigh of relief escaped her lips.

But the comfort was short-lived.

Because now… they were walking away.

Away from human civilization.

Away from any hope of rescue.

And toward something completely unknown.

'What is happening to my life?'

That thought echoed in Virelle's mind as she stared at Melinda's back, watching her lead the way through the forest.

Unlike the males, who looked monstrous and brutish, she looked… different.

Even to Virelle's human instincts, she was beautiful.

Tall—easily over seven feet—but with a toned, sculpted frame. Muscular, yes, but lean. Controlled. Graceful.

Melinda should've terrified her and she did terrify her.

But something about her body—sculpted, powerful, oiled in sunlight—lit a fire somewhere shameful.

In her old life, she might've been called a "muscle mommy."

She wore nothing but a loincloth made of beast hide, the rough material barely covering her lower half.

It swayed with each step, revealing the curve of her muscular thighs and long, powerful legs.

Her upper body was just as exposed—a single strip of cloth wrapped tightly around her chest, doing little to hide the fullness of her breasts.

Her cleavage was on full display, and her strong, sculpted back glistened with a faint sheen of sweat.

Every movement she made was confident—casual, wild, and completely unashamed.

And Virelle, even though she was terrified… even though she was locked in a cage like livestock…

Desire didn't care.

It crawled up her spine like hunger—slow, invasive, impossible to ignore.

Her heart raced from fear, but something else pulsed beneath it.

A heat. A throb.

Primitive. Shameful. Real.

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