Date: Mon, 17 Aug 2009 01:10:58 -0700 From: charlesdeboeuf@gmail.com Subject: Marvil the Horrible "Marvil," said a high voice. There was no response. "Marvil," the voice repeated with a touch of impatience. The voice issued from a large mirror hanging on the wall of an exceedingly sloppy bedroom, and again it went unanswered. "Wake up, Your Immenseness, someone's coming!" The heavy snoring that had been rasping through the air came to sudden halt. "Whazzat?" mumbled a gravelly voice. "Hungover as usual," observed the mirror. "Some wizard you are." "Wizard enough to make a crappy five and dime mirror talk," replied a rumpled man, his grey-flecked hair pointing in all directions. "Spare me the witticism; there is a wizard approaching who is intent on your death!" said the mirror. "What? Why didn't you say so! Show him to me at once!" said Marvil, leaping out of bed. "I did say so, but you were passed out," grumped the mirror. Shortly, the reflection of the messy room was replaced by a totally different scene: a sunny hillside path along which a young man walked vigorously. He carried an intricately carved staff and wore pretentiously decorated robes. "Hmm, young and blond. And look at that huge staff, very promising. Do I have time for a shower?" asked the wizard. "Just enough. Brush your teeth, too." said the mirror. ------------ The proud young mage Trophecant rapped thrice on the door with his staff. "Evil Wizard Marvil, come forth! Do not make me blast this door down!" he cried. The door opened, though nobody was standing there to have opened it. Trophecant peered inside for a moment, then straightened up and strode confidently through the door. Inside, Marvil the Horrible, or so Trophecant's friends had named him, sat on a couch. Not very horrible to look at, thought Trophecant, but this seemingly kindly face was surely just an illusion projected by the evilest wizard who ever lived. For some reason the fiend's hair looked wet. "Yield to me, Demon, or I shall slay you where you stand. Sit." he corrected himself. "My, such a refined challenge. You must have gone to an expensive school. And graduated very recently, I imagine?" "Just yesterday. And I made a resolution to devote my magical career to ridding the world of evil wizards. You are to be the first." said the young mage. "I certainly hope so!" leered Marvil. Trophecant, puzzled by the older wizard's enthusiam, returned to his errand. "I demand that you give me your wand, immediately!" "All in due time, my boy. First let's get better acquainted," urged Marvil. "Do not try to distract me! I am here to take your wand or destroy you!" growled Trophecant. "Tell you what, I'll wrestle you for it." laughed Marvil. "Now!" Trophecant shouted and directed a bolt of magical lightning at the laughing figure on the couch. The lightning stopped several feet short. Trophecant stabbed the air with his staff again and fearful gouts of flame engulfed the entire couch, concealing it for a few moments. When the flames retreated, Marvil still sat there, unaffected. Trophecant paled. Those had been his best spells, and his enemy had ignored them. "Is that all?" Marvil sighed. "I guess the schools aren't what they used to be. Still, I think I'll write a letter to the dean of your college thanking him for sending such a tender morsel my way." Trophecant, in the early stages of panic, turned to run for the door. But there was no door any more. "Surely you're not thinking of leaving already? We've barely gotten to know each other," Marvil chuckled. Trophecant whirled around, staff raised to strike, but Marvil made a small gesture and the staff flew out of the young wizard's grasp. A second gesture froze Trophecant with his hands raised in defense. "You wanted my wand, didn't you? Well now you're going to get it." Marvil untied his sash and stepped out of his robe, revealing his rigid erection. Suddenly Trophecant understood that he had been tricked by his friends into seeking the wand of this evil wizard, and now that he had found it he wished he hadn't. His fear was visible in his eyes even though his body was held completely motionless by the magic spell. "Don't worry, my boy. I am not going to take you unwillingly. I have a very special spell I save for occasions just such as this; it will make you the most eager partner imaginable. You're going to love it, but not yet. First let's see what we've got here." Marvil waved his hand and the young wizard's robes flew off in all directions. His frozen face reddened in embarassment. Marvil gulped at the sight before him. Trophecant was a nearly perfect specimen of masculinity, lean and muscular with a delicious smattering of body hair, blond and tanned. His only flaw, if you could call it that, were his oversized sexual organs. Not freakishly huge, but big enough to make the older man stare. "Omygod," he mumbled, jaw slack. Shaking himself, he inspected his captive closely, using his hands, paying particular attention to the most sensitive spots. When his finger probed between the golden globes of the young wizards behind, Trophecant started to sweat. Marvil saw this and chided himself. "I apologize, it's not right to let you suffer like this, but I couldn't help myself. Now for the lust spell." Marvil gestured intricately, and suddenly Trophecant began to feel very odd, in places that his magical training had forbidden him to touch. For he, like all followers of the Golden Path, were celibate for life. Trophecant knew that his virginal state was the foundation of his magic, and that he was about to lose his virginity and his powers at the same time. But that didn't matter, because there was glow inside him such as he'd never felt, a warmth that was filling him, rising in him. Then he was rising, and stiffening in a way that would have horrified him only moments ago. Now it excited him till he felt like he would burst into flame. Marvil watched the transformation take over the young man, and when the terror in his eyes was replaced with yearning, Marvil released his magical hold. Trophecant wasted no time and fairly threw himself into Marvil's arms. Pulling him down onto the couch, Marvil's mouth wandered about the glories of Trophecant's robust body. Swollen chest and deeply ridged stomach, golden calves and chisled thighs, Marvil tasted and Trophecant writhed. When he could wait no longer, Marvil plunged the young man's rigid tool deep into his throat. The reaction was immediate. Trophecant howled and spewed bolt after bolt of liquid lightning down Marvil's greedy gullet. Trophecant shook and pumped as the spasms went on and on, his back arched, hips pumping. Finally he collapsed in a panting heap. Marvil sat back, licking his lips and wiping them on the back of his hand. "Wow, it must have been a long while since your last time." Marvil guessed. "Never," Trophecant panted. "That would explain a lot," chortled the older wizard. Before he could get out another word, the young mage lauched himself at Marvil's lap, burrowing for the most tender parts and slurping them up. Inexperienced but magically highly motivated, Trophecant's mouth pistoned wetly up and down on Marvil's aching rod. Marvil's eyes rolled backwards in obscene pleasure. Only his wizard's strength of will allowed him to stop the young mans frantic sucking long enough to flip him over and pull him up on his knees. Without hesitatation the wizard positioned himself against his spellbound captive's warm, firm globes and with a single devastating thrust drove himself deep into the young stud's nether channel, right up to the hilts. The young mage howled, but it was a howl of purest pleasure: never before had he felt anything remotely like this, so intense and disturbing, yet fulfilling at the same time. He shook uncontrollably while Marvil, now lying atop him back to belly, squirmed in ecstacy. The young man's exquisite struggles caused his rear end to grip Marvil like a fist, squeezing and mauling him in a velvet glove. Marvil returned the favor by reaching underneath his all-too-willing captive to seize and then slowly pump the young man's oversized and steely erection. Trophecant released a long, low groan like a cow. Slowly, so slowly, Marvil fondled and fisted his prey until the young mage climaxed again, the shuddering vibrations of which pushed Marvil over the edge into his own long delayed explosion. The two of them thrashed like beached dolphins, clutching each other for support as the waves of pleasure pounded them. Finally, exhausted, they fell asleep in each others arms. --------- In the light of morning, Trophecant came reluctantly awake. Lying there with his eyes closed, he heard Marvil's voice say "Well I gave you my wand. Still want to kill me?" Trophecant thought about that for a minute then turned, coming face to face with his enemy. "My powers are gone. You have taken them along with my chastity. I am no longer a threat to you." "But if you could, would you kill me?" asked Marvil. "I don't want to kill you any more. I want to stay with you." replied Trophecant. "Good," said Marvil. "I will teach you new magic, magic that does not punish you by making you deny your needs. That kind of magic is weak. I will show you magic that is fired by your sexual energy (of which you have an overwhelming sufficiency I might add) and you will be like unto a god. Actually, you're like unto a god now in my humble opinion," as he thrust his raping toungue into his new apprentice's most private opening.