Note: This is the second story of Dar's matches and contains references to, but does not rely on, his encounter with the Bull of Canton. You may want to read that one before reading this one.
"SHLORP" came the sound of Dar's boot sinking deep into the mud. The recent rains had made his forest trek much more difficult, and the light misting of water in the air kept it that way. The dwarf grumbled, jerking his leg upward. His foot came free, but the leather boot remained firmly implanted in the soil. Dar swore, lost his balance, and fell to his knee. He shivered as the cold, moist ground curling up around his vascular calf muscles. He snatched the boot, stood up, and threw it onto his foot haphazardly. The mud bubbled inside as he slid in. Frustrated with the chilly goop, he pulled his feet out and instead decided to walk barefoot, carrying his unruly footwear. The dwarf began to regret getting boots that were made for a bigger human, but the method of acquisition was more than worth it. Slightly. When Dar finished reminiscing about his previous animal-handling conquest, he stood, using a fallen tree trunk as support, and began trudging through the weeds between the trees. It itched more and it wasn't nearly as flat, but it wasn't muddy, and that's all Dar cared about.
Dar stumbled through the thicket for what felt like hours, slipping down hills and tripping on roots. His short red hair was soaked with rain, running tiny rivers of rainwater down his stubbled face, his thickly muscled torso, and into his loincloth, which now sagged rather immodestly with the weight of the water it had absorbed. Eventually, he found himself on the edge of a clearing through which a gentle stream flowed. The dwarf didn't care much about the picturesque scenery or the quiet rustling of light rain, however. His feral eyes were focused solely on the tall, athletically-built orc standing half-naked on the river's shore. The greenskin leaned back in a stretch, his muscles rippling beneath his wet, shimmering flesh. He wore a metal-studded black leather loincloth, but his boots and armor plates were scattered around the grass. The coloration of the tunic dangling from a nearby bush identified the orc as a Red Hawk warrior. He was obviously preparing to relax, and was unaware of the dwarf spying on him from the wooded hill.
Dar had heard stories of this Red Hawk tribe. Stories of rape, murder, and violence. Stories that boiled his blood and ignited his dwarven rage. He could not simply walk away and allow such a creature to live. It would insult his heritage and his own ego. Besides, he figured, a challenger like the orc before him was a rare thing indeed. The warrior was a bit more than six feet tall and topped with a short black mohawk. He was muscular, far larger than most humans and even the average orc, and covered in jagged scars. Black tattoos of orcish text ran down the greenskin's arms and back. Dar stroked his goatee as he appraised the orc, and his loincloth bulged as he imagined snapping such a powerful neck. He knew this would be an enjoyable battle.
With surprising speed, the five-foot boulder of dwarven muscle tore across the grass. The orc swiftly reacted, spinning around on his heel and crouching slightly, meeting the barbarian's charge with a grunt and a few unkind orcish words. The two behemoths strained against each other, each warrior struggling to force the other to the muddy ground. The dwarf's blue-tattooed arms bulged as he pushed and pulled, slowly working the orc to his knees. Suddenly, a meaty green fist broke his concentration, striking him across the cheek and spraying beads of water into the air. The dwarf wavered, but held his ground. He responded with his own punch to the orc's skull, a strike that caused the Red Hawk to stumble backwards. Dar continued to swing his powerful fists, striking the greenskin in the face and chest. His opponent fought back as well, throwing punches that made the dwarf's head swim. If this kept up, Dar realized, he could end up dead because of a lucky punch. Besides, boxing wasn't Dar's strength. His real skill was on the ground.
Dar leaped forward into the orc's guard, tangling their muscular arms together. He strained, grimacing, and pushed. The orc swore in his native tongue as his stance weakened and he began to lean, despite his efforts to remain in control. He fought to push back, but the dwarf was too strong, and he didn't like being overpowered by a sworn enemy of his people. With a grunt, he drove his knee upwards between Dar's legs, smashing his apple-sized testicles. The northman whimpered as paralyzing pain shot up from his crotch, but he maintained his hold. The orc proceeded to rudely repeat the blow, taking sadistic pleasure in crushing the manhood of such as muscular barbarian. Dar roared in agony. The cold, grassy mud oozed between his toes as they curled involuntarily.
Suddenly, the dwarf threw himself at his opponent in a blind fury. A loud, wet thud shook the forest as Dar's shoulder struck the Red Hawk's chest and the two fell to the ground. Dar rapidly mounted his opponent, straddling the orc with his tree-trunk-like legs. By the time the warrior knew what had happened, he was already pinned on his back, staring up at the dwarf's beet-red scowl. Dar unleashed a barrage of punches, pounding strike after strike into the orc's head. "Aye'm gonna fuckin' kill you, greenskin!" Dar screamed, spraying globs of hot slobber onto his victim. The orc's vision blurred as his skull was slowly crushed by the brutal assault. He swatted his arms, attempting to block the strikes, but failed. He knew he didn't have long before it was over.
With a echoing war-cry, the warrior bucked his rain-slicked body and shoved his attacker. Dar fell to the ground, but quickly rolled back to his feet, while the orc merely groaned and crawled to his knees. The northman rubbed his battered balls, which still ached and throbbed from the orc's crude tactics. The pain only made him stronger and more brutal. He wrapped his hands around a nearby broken branch and brandished it like a club. As the orc warrior stood, Dar took his swing. The branch snapped in half when it struck the greenskin's back, sending splinters of wood in every direction. The musculature of the warrior's back felt as solid as a tree, but he faltered and dropped to his stomach. He moaned, cringing momentarily as pain shot through his body, but then fell limp, rasping and wheezing as rain and sweat pooled in the valleys between his muscles.
Dar grinned, still massaging the pain from his damaged goods, and tossed the broken wood over his shoulder. "Whut, ya dun already?" Dar taunted. "Can't 'andle ah real man like me, aye?" The dwarf flexed his biceps arrogantly, kissing each one in turn. He eyed the orc's physique, and he felt his cock begin to swell. Overcome by his urges, he slid his hand beneath the ragged leather of his loincloth and began to stroke himself. His opponent coughed and stirred, but did not rise. Dar's stroking rapidly increased in speed and aggression as his primal urges came to the surface. "Yeeaahhh... this'll be fun..." He said aloud. "Ain't dis what ya do when ya win a fight? Fuck da los'r? Take 'ere pride?" The slapping of wet leather against skin became louder than the babbling waters of the stream. "I like 'at tradition." Dar stopped jacking off and began fiddling with his belt, leaving the rain-soaked hide crudely tented out by his foot-long penis. The loincloth was annoying and was just going to get in the way, he thought, so it needed to go. His big fingers paired with the fact that leather swells when it gets wet, however, made untying the thong that held it in place difficult. The barbarian grumbled as he pulled at the strap. His attempts to free his manhood were interrupted suddenly when bulging green arms wrapped around his waist, trapping his own arms at his sides.
"I ain't dead, yet!" Bellowed the orc, lifting Dar off the ground. There was a moment of stillness before he swung the dwarf back down, slamming his head and shoulders against the earth. Dar exhaled forcefully as the air rushed from his lungs. Before he could recover, the orc took a big gulp of air and lifted the three-hundred-pound dwarf once again, still trapped, and slammed him down. The Red Hawk tribesman repeated this move three more times before releasing his hold and surveying the damage. He smiled to himself when he noticed that the freakish mountain of dwarven rage was no longer conscious. He walked around Dar, nodding in approval, and knelt to feel the dwarf's body. He squeezed Dar's hairless pecs and biceps, appreciating the rock-solid feel of the barbarian's muscles, even when limp. "Big dwarf." He grunted. The Red Hawk unclipped his belt and let his studded leather guard drop to the grass. He stood bare-assed in the clearing, his own cock flopping between his legs. He snarled and took his dick in hand. "I like our tradition, too, dwarf. No matter how big you are, if you mess with the Red Hawks, you get fucked. I ain't had a catch like you in a long time, and I'm going to have my fun... before I kill your beefy ass." He stroked himself until his manhood stood erect, a ten-inch champion's pride.
Before the orc could make good on his threats, Dar began to awaken. His chest spasmed as he coughed, raising his head and opening his weary eyes. Upon coming to and seeing the orc's preparations, he clumsily rolled and climbed to his feet. He then proceeded to struggle to find his footing as the forest swam and spun around him. He growled like a bear and shook his head a few times to clear it. Finally, the five orcs became one, and he clearly saw what had happened. The thought that he had been knocked out by an opponent angered him. The fact that it had been a greenskin pushed him over the edge. With a primal scream, Dar grabbed his belt and ripped it off, throwing it at the orc's feet with a glare. He flexed at his opponent, letting his physique do the talking for him. It seemed to Dar that it had worked, as the orc took a step back before focusing his eyes on the dwarf's crotch. Even limp, it was clear that Dar put his orcish opponent to shame.
"Aye ain't 'at easy!" Growled the dwarf as the two naked fighters circled each other.
The greenskinned gorilla's face contorted into an expression of rage and frustration. He screamed orcish threats and charged at the dwarf, his muscles and veins bulging with all the strength he could muster. Dar met his charge with a shoulder to the legs, causing the orc to tumble over him and land on his back with a painful, muddy slap. Taking advantage of his opponent's position, the dwarf leaped into the air for a body slam. He hoped to let his sheer bulk crush the life out of his opponent, but the orc had recovered just enough to counter with a donkey kick. One foot struck Dar's stomach, while the other struck his chest, and the force sent Dar tumbling to his side roughly three feet from his intended target. Quickly, the dwarf hopped up, and began stalking towards the greenskin who still rested on his naked ass, dripping mud from his arms. The Red Hawk proceeded to climb shakily to a kneeling position before he thought to look up. It was too late. Before the warrior could react, Dar's fist struck his stubbly chin with all the strength the dwarf had to give. The orc's tooth tusk cracked, and the orc himself stumbled backwards and collapsed on the ground.
Dar's victim lay sprawled in the grass like a slab of green meat. His wet, shimmering body was limp, save for the vascular appendage between his legs. The dwarf approached the Red Hawk and bent down beside him. Dar punched the orc's stomach, but found it offered no resistance. He slapped the warrior's dick back and forth, then slapped his nuts, but again, the orc lay still. The only indication the greenskin was even alive was his heavy, labored breathing. Dar smiled and flexed for himself, standing over his fallen opponent. He had knocked out a Red Hawk warrior.
The barbarian placed one meaty paw around the orc's neck, and one over his junk. With a snort, he lifted the loser over his head like a trophy. The greenskin's arms and legs dangled in the air, limp and useless as blood dribbled from the his mouth. Dar lowered the orc to his shoulders, then extended his arms once again, lifting the muscle beast as a piece of exercise equipment. He managed ten lifts before his primal urges got the best of him again. After all, there was still that tradition to which he needed to attend. Dar lifted his trophy one last time before heaving him through the air, slamming him against a tree and sending him to the roots in a crumpled heap. "Cum on, bitch! Tyme ta pay up! Ya thot you was strong, but aye'm stronger!" Dar grabbed his victim and forced him into a sitting position, slumped against the tree. The greenskin snorted and twitched in response. He snagged the orc's mohawk with one hand and his own cock with the other before shoving his massive manhood into his opponent's mouth. "Bottum's up." He said, grinning sadistically. He pushed farther and farther in until the orc's forehead rested against his abs.
The helpless orc gagged and gurgled as the winner's pride swelled inside his mouth and throat. He struggled half-consciously as Dar began to thrust, pounding the orc's bald head against the tree with a repeated thump. The barbarian wrapped his arms around the maple's trunk and used it to support himself and give him leverage, allowing the cocky champ to penetrate deeper into his victim. He flexed and moaned as the pleasurable sensations sent tingles up and down his spine. The orc's warm mouth was a pleasant contrast with the cold rain. Dar bit his lip and rested his head on the tree. His eyes closed. He was giving in, and it felt good. He hadn't had such a powerful opponent in weeks, and the arousal he got from defeating such a fighter drove him wild. He was drunk with lust and with his own power. It was a feeling he could never describe, nor could he get it any other way.
Dar became somewhat aware of his prize attempting to bite down, but the orc's jaw had been shattered by the uppercut and could not generate the leverage required. What little pain the biting caused simply amped up Dar's instinctive lust. Green fingers raked across his back, his ass, and his abs, leaving streaks of white and red along Dar's body. The Red Hawk's protests went unanswered. The orc's face began to change color. He kicked and carved muddy ruts in the ground. He drilled his weakened fists into the dwarf's body, but Dar barely noticed the punches. Nothing worked.
The Red Hawk stared up at the wall of muscle destroying his pride. In the back of his mind, he admired the body and pure ferocity of the man, but the front of his mind cared more about escaping from the fuck hold. As he twisted and squirmed in the mud like a pig, however, he began to realize that there was nothing he could do. He had been defeated. There was no escape. Dar's massive meat blocked the orc's throat more and more with each thrust. The orc's body spasmed and his muscles locked. He sucked hard on Dar's cock reflexively, and squeezed the dwarf's muscular ass. As his vision blurred, the orc fell limp, and soon lost consciousness.
Dar pulled out as he climaxed, spraying his hot juices onto the green gorilla's face. He hammered his dick and milked himself for all he had, holding himself up with the tree as his legs shivered and threatened to stop working. "Woooo!" The dwarf yelled with satisfaction. He wiped himself off in the orc's hair. "I LOVE 'at tradition!" He said, laughing to himself. He noticed then that his opponent was still unconscious. He furrowed his brow, then rudely slapped the orc's face. "Aye! Wake up, ya weaklin'! Is 'at all ya can take?" No response. He slapped him again. When he saw the stillness of the bulging pecs and the discoloration of the Red Hawk's face, he realized what had happened, and it brought more pride than a simple victory ever could. The orc had choked to death on his cock.
The forest rumbled with Dar's laughter. "Yeah!" He roared. "Too much man fer ya!" He made his way across the clearing, still laughing and bouncing his half-erect manhood in his hands. He picked up his loincloth, but realized he had ruined it during the fight. He laughed again. Before he threw it away, he noticed something. In the corner of his eye, he caught the orc's groin guard, alternating strips of studded black leather attached to a hardened leather plate. He picked it up and tied it firmly around his waist. "This'll do." He said, pleased with the manly appearance of the studs.
Dar snatched his boots from the bushes, washed them in the stream, and slid them onto his feet as the battle replayed in his head. He wiggled his toes in the boots, rather pleased with the lack of mud. Much better, he thought to himself. With his detour over, he headed off, ready to continue his trek through the forest with renewed vigor. The dwarf tossed his old, ragged cloth onto the Red Hawk's face with a wet smack, and laughed some more once he recalled his execution method. "Thanks fer da fun, greenskin." Dar called back, before laughing his way into the tree-covered hills.
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