I recently learned that nearly 15 years have passed since I left Earth Prime. Wotta concept! Here in Albion it has been only two years since Throckmorton’s demon assistant, Sugasto, cast the spell that turned me into what I am now, an ogre in Albion.
I started writing about it at the beginning, then got distracted. It’s easy for us ogres to get distracted, you know. It’s not that we’re stupid or in any way anti-intellectual; I have one ogre friend who is Albion’s foremost expert on Proust, for heaven’s sake.
But we’re generally too busy doing other things, like pounding on demon nasties, building muscle, and having sex (that’s in ascending order of how much time we spend on each!)
When Sugasto was finished with me, I was a wonder to behold, 7 feet tall and 500 pounds of rippling muscle. I felt like I could tear down a mountain with my bare hands. That was before I’d actually met any other ogres, at which point I realized that I was, well, on the small side.
Turns out the average ogre is closer to 7½ feet tall and usually in vicinity of 700-800 pounds. And then there are the big mofos who are closer to 8 feet and a 1000 pounds.
“Damn,” I thought to myself. “I don’t want to be the shrimp!”
Fortunately, I had one thing going for me already, namely a 2-foot-long cock, which was already as big as the biggest of the big boy ogres. And it pretty much refused to stay soft, no matter how much sex I had with my fellows (and I had a lot.)
Ditto, it turned out that my transformation wasn’t complete. Over the course of my first year in Albion, I grew another foot taller and more than doubled my weight. At 8 feet tall and 1200 pounds I was tall as the tallest ogres and outweighed the biggest by a good 150 pounds. (My dick grew another six inches, too, which was another nice feature.)
My progress had a fairly radical effect on the ogre community. Before my arrival, their workout routines consisted almost exclusively of wrestling each other (lots of fun, especially considering the inevitable end results), pulling trees out of the ground to make into clubs, and heaving boulders around. Nothing systematic and no modern weight training.
I fixed that right away and once they saw I was blowing past them in size and strength they all wanted to follow my example. Today most of them are a good 100 pounds heavier than they were before and the biggest are now in the 1200-pound range—where I was a year ago!
At this point I think I’ve finally stopped getting bigger but at 1500 lbs. I’m a bit skeptical about whether any of my compadres are going to catch up. There are some young’uns who show promise so we’ll see. For now I’m enjoying being top dog!
Of course, being top dog in a pack of ogres usually means being at the bottom of the puppy pile. One-on-one sex is great for humans and sometimes we do it, too, but living close together like we do it’s not uncommon for two of us to start getting it on and then get everyone riled up and the next thing you know you’ve got 10 “grrs” in a pile, something like 5 tons of muscle and fur and gyrating fuckpoles that are never shorter than about 18 inches. (And, yeah, our cum is blue-tinged, too!)
I love ‘em all, of course, and they love me back. It’s the way we are, although baseline humans tend to get freaked out when they see us throwing each other through walls, or baring our six inch fangs, but that’s just the way it is with us. Normal male rough housing and, well, ya know, there are no female ogres so who’s gonna complain?
Interestingly enough, for guys so totally into muscle, and grrrs don’t just have it, they lust for it, they’d never actually gotten around to inventing bodybuilding, or more precisely, formal posing. Something else I had to teach ‘em.
“Hhrexx, make a muscle, Hhrexx, bounce yer pecs!” they’d say, and I’d do it, and then they’d all be doing it, Hmron and Cnud and Jhahx and Llub and all the others. (Yeah, learning to get my tongue around those grrry consonants was hard—fortunately, I had lots of practice getting my tongue around other grrry attributes, and that helped!)
Jhergh is my best bud. He’s pretty much the Daddy Ogre, the oldest and, next to me, the biggest. He took me under his wing from the beginning and he still calls me “Li’l Dude” even though I now outweigh him by more than 250 pounds.
Jhergh’s the one who taught me how to fight, something I was itching to do from the moment Sugasto’s smoke blew off my body. Humans have this unfortunate idea that ogres are insanely aggressive which just is not true. We “fight” with each other at the drop of a hat but that’s just grrr foreplay, of course. Likewise, we almost never fight with humans; the odds are too stacked in our favor, for one thing, and, contrary to popular mythology, we can’t be provoked.
Actual fighting is something we save for bad people, mostly the demon sort, only occasionally the human sort. Even then we’re just about totally incapable of initiating a fight—for us it’s a response to a certain kind of stimulus.
Of course, given the stimulus, well, watch out!
The typical grrr is vastly stronger than his nearest human equivalent (not that there are any!) But think about what that means. Ryan Kennelly, 350 lbs., can bench three times his bodyweight, a little more than half a ton. I’m more than 4 times his size and I can bench 7 1/2 tons, 10 times my bodyweight.
It was clear even from our first encounter with a demon horde (soon after I arrived in Albion, while I was still just a little 500 lb. shrimp of a thing) that whatever I lacked (at the time) in strength and size I made up for in agility. Their one approach to all fighting had been the same forever, namely pound! pound! pound! They were graceful in swinging their clubs but mostly they just plowed ahead or stood their ground. Footwork never entered into it but that was before they had in their midst a former professional baseball player.
Now, well, I’ve been told that the sight of a hundred-strong ogre cadre (about 50 tons of blue beef) running at their enemy is enough to cause the Most Low Himself to shit his britches.
Well, enough for now. I promised Jhergh and the others that I’d take their measurements today (something else they’d never done, no surprise I guess!) after we get totally pumped this afternoon.
Oh, for those of you who like stats, I figured I should give you a rundown of my first year development:
Month 0: 7 ft tall, 500 lbs., bench 2000
Month 3: 7 ft 3 inches tall, 680 lbs., bench 3400
Month 6: 7 ft 6 inches tall, 860 lbs., bench 5200
Month 9: 7 ft 9 inches tall, 1040 lbs., bench 7200
Month 12: 8 ft tall, 1200 lbs., bench 9600
Month 9 (“Arba,” in Albion) was the month I passed Jhergh in size, even though at that point he was still 3 inches taller than I was and a helluva lot stronger (pound for pound, he’s still one of the strongest grrrs around, benching 10,000 pounds at a little more than 1200 pounds bodyweight.)
The biggest problem was finding a tape measure that was, well, big enough! I had to have Chayban the Tailor special order one from Ragnarok! Not surprising, really, we don’t actually wear clothes, except for the grrrs’ version of sweatpants. It finally arrrived, though…
I have to say that my fellow grrrs showed an amazing amount of standardization. We all seem to have “ideal” proportions, assuming your “ideal” is mind-blowingly huge!
Jhergh is a good example:
8 ft tall
Chest: 246 inches (20.5 feet)
Shoulder circumference: 270 inches (22.5 feet)
Shoulder width: 135 inches (11.25 feet)
Quads: 126 inches (10.5 feet)
Waist: 126 inches (10 feet)
Biceps: 96 inches (8 feet)
Neck: 96 inches (8 feet)
Calves: 96 inches (8 feet)
See, perfectly proportioned!
Of course, it does tend to strike baseline humans as a bit odd, since we’re (usually) half again as broad as we are tall and 2½ times as big around.
(Oh, yeah, and: At 33 inches, Jhergh’s cock is just a little bit shorter than mine…)
Anyway, measuring was, well, as you might, imagine, stimulating! When we were done, we did a nice round of “daisy chain…”
What’s “daisy chain,” you ask?
I invite the reader to use his imagination! Not that most readers have the imagination to keep up with the typical grrr, much less the truly gigantic grrrs like Jhergh (or yours truly!)
We are, after all, incredibly strong, and we have enormous cocks, and, well, we have terrifically accommodating fuckholes. So how many grrrs can one ogre hold up? Depends on how big the grrrs are, of course!
Jhergh came in number two that day, with 8 grrrs consecutively impaled, something like 8500 lbs. of grrr-flesh bouncing up and down in the courtyard. Of course, he probably could have done 10 or more except for the fact that I was his first impalee and I’m half again as big as the typical ogre.
And, yeah, well, I am heckuva lot stronger, too, which is why my count was 15. At that number the big trick isn’t strength so much as coordination. Keeping the “stalk” from tipping over can be quite a feat! Fortunately, the top of the walls surrounding our compound were just the right height for little Ferk (he’s 7’6”, 800 pounds, just as cute as a button!) to hang onto. When that boy clenched his butt cheeks, you could feel it all the way down!
Grrrs and daisy chains, gotta love ‘em!