What
follows is a work of complete fantasy.
About the story:
This
series will
describe the adventures of a teenaged boy who is rescued from a cruel fate in his home village by a friend,
but ultimately finds himself on his own in a
world that is being ravaged by brutal race wars between the humans, and
the hated vicious and barbaric races, the kobolds, orcs and ogres.
In his travels he learns the surprising
truth about the history of the realm, the nature of its inhabitants and
the reason for the war
that has been withheld from his people. He also learns that the
humans are very close to a complete victory. Realizing that the
other races are facing obliteration he decides to take a gamble that
would level the playing field once again in the hope that it might lead
to a better outcome. Doing so however will require him to utterly
betray his own people.
There
will be some very rough and violent sex
described in great detail between men and men, men and orcs, orcs and
kobolds, kobolds and men, ogres and men, and so on and so forth in
various combinations with much of it involving the teenaged boy.
None of it is based in any way on reality
but it may be disturbing to some. Should you choose to read it
please
keep in mind that it is not real, but simply fantasy.
If
this is
not the type of story you would enjoy, please stop reading now.
If
there is any reason
legal or otherwise why you should not read such a story, please stop
reading now.
If you
are the type of
person who has any difficulty whatsoever separating fantasy from
reality, please stop reading now.
The
events depicted in these stories have not happened, and will not ever
happen. No one should ever attempt to replicate them in any way in real
life. These events are a work of fantasy for the enjoyment of those
with a healthy mind who have no problem keeping them in the realm of
imagination. I have never attempted, nor would I attempt, any such acts
myself and as such I am likely to get some details completely wrong.
One thing I am certain of is that in real life, young boys would NOT
appreciate this sort of thing being done to them and they are INCAPABLE
of giving informed consent to allow these things to be done to them. If
you ever even consider attempting these acts in real life then you
should immediately seek help.
Children
are wonderful innocent little people. If there are any in your life I
would appreciate if you would consider it your duty to shelter them
from any of the sorts of ideas presented in this story. Let them grow
up without the knowledge that anyone even thinks this way. Let them
become the excellent men and women they are destined to be without
knowing these thoughts exist until they are adults and old enough to
decide for them selves what they like to fantasize about. Respect them,
protect them, and defend them from anyone who may seek to harm them in
any way, and most of all just let them be kids.
That
said
if you are still reading I do hope you enjoy the story.
This
story is the property of the author and may not be reproduced in whole
or in part in any way without my express, written consent. Nifty.org
has my express consent.
Thank
you,
SockThief
The
Nifty Archive is an incredible source of wonderful stories that
provides so many of us with countless hours of entertainment. If you
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The Hawthorne Accord - Chapter 1
Neville Hawthorne lay naked on his bed in the dark with his feet
near his ass and knees spread apart, moaning softly as he worked his
stiff young cock.
Ever since he had discovered what it could do for
him he could not resist the temptation to play with it. Whenever he
had a moment away from his chores, which was quite rarely indeed, he
would sneak to his room and let his imagination run away to some
exotic, erotic place and he would let himself go wild.
He had first started by imagining he
was a sheik with a harem taking advantage of his privileges, or a
magistrate wickedly punishing a hungry girl for stealing from the
market stalls, by stealing her virginity. In some of his
fantasies he would be a King with a bevy of his queen's handmaids at
his mercy as he slipped his huge cock from one young girl's cunt to the
next until he found one that fit snuggly and then used her well.
Those particular thoughts hadn't entered his head in a while though. The truth of the matter was, he used to fantasize about those things. In
more recent fantasies where he is a King, it would be his own footmen instead of
the queen's maids and he would follow the same procedure, testing their
hungry holes by pushing his thick cock several times into each man's anus until he
found the most suitable sized one or the man who moaned the loudest.
Then he would use the young man's asshole roughly until he shot his
spunk into the lucky servant, who spilled his seed on the floor from
being treated so well. This one always made him even harder because it
just seemed so wrong. Men should not lie with men in such ways. It
was considered improper and vile by normal society.
When
he was
feeling particularly horny he would find it most exciting of all to
reverse the roles and be the chosen footman who the King has commanded
to his hands and knees to have the privilege of being the receptacle for the royal seed.
He
would moan and groan at the pleasurable sensation of his anus being
stretched and roughly used by the King until his own seed spilled out
onto the floor while the King shot his load into his bowels.
He
had even started playing with various items in order to simulate the
experience more closely, anything long and thick would do. He
would push it up into his backside to heighten the erotic
sensations while he fantasized and stroked his stiff member.
He
sometimes even practiced pushing things down his open throat while he
imagined being used by a man in that way. Normally he'd use
vegetables, ever wider and longer ones at that. He was surprised
that
with practice his throat learned to relax easily and he could even
breathe while pretending to be fucked there.
He mostly enjoyed
using his ass though. The
objects he put there got bigger over time as his
hole had adjusted in the year or so that he'd been doing this. He
currently had a very large cucumber that he'd stolen from the garden
peeking out of his anus. He had pushed it in deep while he moaned
and groaned and then settled in
to work his cock.
He knew
it wasn't right, but for some odd reason lately it was the males
he
imagined
enjoying, or being enjoyed by, almost exclusively. Perhaps it was
just
the thrill of doing something so nasty, even if it was only in his
imagination. He doubted it was just that though.
It worried
him a bit
that as he grew older it was everything about men that raised the heat
in his loins and everything about women that cooled them off.
While
he'd imagined using girls quite frequently to appease his sexual urges
when they had
first begun to appear, the arousal he'd experienced had quickly worn
off and eventually he couldn't even get things going anymore. He
realized now that it had started with thoughts of girls
simply because that was what was expected of a man. In truth he
never
thought of females anymore. Something about them did not appeal
once
he'd turned his thoughts to men.
It
wasn't always just men either though. Sometimes he would even be
a
goatherd enjoying a goat or maybe he would be the goat itself being
enjoyed by the goatherd.
Sometimes he would be the
goatherd, but the goat would force him down and have its way with him
and sometimes he would be the goat, forcing himself on the goatherd.
Nothing was too
outrageous for his young imagination.
He was fascinated with the
penis in general. He loved to think of all the shapes and sizes
it came in. Obviously the penises of men were his primary
interest but he couldn't help occasionally marveling at the shape of a
horse's cock, or a dog's beautiful red organ, or a goat, or anything
that would engorge itself and show the lust and power of its owner.
Sometimes his thoughts
could get
quite sick but he tried not to let it concern him too much. He
was
simply exploring his own feelings and urges by imagining as many
different varieties of acts as he could while he had his young member
in his hand. So what if those thoughts sometimes even involved
animals? It showed he was open to any experience that he could
imagine. It didn't mean he'd ever actually do any of those things
in
real life. He knew that what went on in his private thoughts was
harmless to anyone, including himself, and he could play roles that
were nothing like he was in reality. He did it mainly just to
blow off
some steam and ease the yearnings of his pecker so that it would not
distract him so much from his exceedingly busy everyday life.
As
Neville lay there in bed with his cock in hand and the visitor from the vegetable patch in his rectum, his thoughts began to
wander to his life in the village. He loved this place and all of
the people in it. They were all he had in the world and they were
all he felt he needed or wanted. He would do anything for them.
If you were to ask any of the townsfolk you would know that Neville was
in fact one of the kindest and most normal and well liked boys in the area. He was devoted to his
mother and father and did
everything that was asked of him and even things they didn't ask, for
the simple reason that it pleased him to make their lives easier.
He
was their only child and was loved and cherished by them and he was
well liked and respected by all of the people in the hamlet of
Shepherd's Pass. Everyone knew him and wherever he went he was acknowledged by anyone
who
saw him with a broad smile and a friendly greeting.
At
the young
age of thirteen years he was already being eyed by many of the
townsfolk and
surrounding farmers and herders as the best candidate for marriage to
their daughters someday. He was quite an attractive and
fit boy and it was clear he would be a very handsome,
strapping man who would be the best possible provider for whomever he
chose to take as his wife. He wasn't even aware of it but most of
the families with young daughters were working very hard to save large
dowries to try to be first in the running to wed their daughter to him.
He
had an almost magical way about him that
could disarm any argument or mend any sore heart or appease any worry.
He had an undeniable and irresistible charisma. He always
seemed to
know what to say or do to make anyone who needed it feel better.
All
he really wanted in life was to be happy and content, and to see
happiness and contentment on all of the faces of those around him.
Anywhere he went and no matter what he was doing he always kept
an eye
out for anyone who needed help and he would drop what he was doing to
lend a hand.
He
had good prospects in the town as well, as the
son of the Hawthornes. His parents were well respected by all.
They
owned the largest inn in the region and it was renowned for its comfort
and the quality of its food and drink and the unmatched courtesy and
graciousness of its innkeeper. The town itself was not large
but it did get a fair bit of traffic due to its location and folks
would carry word of the quality of their stay at the inn to the far
corners of the human lands.
Their village was nestled in a pass in a range of low
mountains that gave the best access into the western side of the human
territories that were guarded by the King, Adelard III. The
King's armies would sometimes pass the hamlet on their way west to fight
back the hordes of kobolds that were encroaching ever closer to the
humans. The beleaguered human forces would eventually pass back through into the
King's lands for rest and recuperation after battling the monsters.
The
King had passed a decree long ago that the towns his armies passed
through would remain untouched by them. Should anything be
required of them they would be treated fairly and well compensated for
any goods they provided. This ensured that the
townsfolk would never grow to hate the soldiers or distrust them.
They
would respect them and would be grateful for their protection and their
custom and thus
be more likely to sacrifice what might be required in the future should
the need ever arise, including their young men who were needed to
bolster the armies' numbers.
When
Neville was younger he never
even knew of the struggle that was going on out in the wide world.
It
was fairly rare that the armies would pass through and they always
seemed fresh and eager. It was a long time before they would
return
and when they did they seemed somewhat battle hardened and worn, but
flush with victory. It was a lucky thing that the races were full
of hatred for everyone, even each other. There was fighting on
all fronts. This gave the humans an equal chance since they did
not have to face all three of the others at once.
Neville
knew very little about the nature of the other races except what he'd
learned by listening to the adults talking over the years. They
were essentially monsters. They were vicious and would eat each
other's children in a heartbeat. They would even eat their own
if the mood struck them, but most of all they loved to feast on human
children. They valued cruelty and brutality and scorned kindness
and love.
They raped and murdered anyone and anything, whether their own
race or another. They fornicated at every chance they got and
would couple with members of the same sex, even if they were of a
different race. They were full of nothing but intense hatred and
depravity. They did not believe in any gods and they would
torture and eat anyone who did. They did not have organized
governments and were simply under a loose military rule lead by
whichever of their warriors was strong enough to kill and eat anyone
who challenged him. They did
not want to share the earth with humans because they saw them as too
weak and civilized.
At some point several years ago they simply decided
that the humans would need to be eliminated and they attacked without
provocation. Ultimately in their hatred they also turned against
each other. That is how the race wars erupted.
Neville
hated them all, but of all the other races the kobolds were by far the
closest to the village geographically and when the boy thought of an
"enemy" he thought of them. He'd never seen one himself but by
people's descriptions they were fairly diminutive, probably close to his own size when full grown. They appeared to
be a cross between a dog and a jackal with long bushy tails but they
walked upright and wore crude clothing and armor and even spoke the
same language as the humans. How they managed to learn it was a
mystery to Neville but apparently they were clever enough.
Neville
had been taught to never stray into the kobold territories because they
were vicious and
deadly fighters who hunted in packs and were not to be trifled with.
Their armies fed
on the corpses of the fallen, their own as well as the enemy's, so they
could constantly advance without worrying about re-supply. They
did not ride mounts, but instead they would drop down and run on all
fours at incredible speed over very long distances. When
they decided to push hard they could gain a surprising amount of ground
in a short time.
Still, the fighting had always been so far away
that it didn't seem real.
Lately however something had changed.
Things had escalated and it
seemed that the war was getting closer to the quiet hamlet. The
forces
heading out to battle appeared more frequently and seemed more haggard, tense and
anxious. They would return more quickly and seemed even more
beaten
down and fewer in numbers than ever before. The losses were
increasing and more men were needed for the fight.
Several of the
older boys
from the village and surrounding community who had recently arrived at
the age of manhood, boys that Neville had
looked up to all of his life, had gone off to join the fight never to
return again. This was primarily what made the war become very
real for the boy. He was losing people who were dear to him.
There were none left of fighting age now and the village knew
they
could be in trouble if the armies could not hold back the enemy.
Soon
the older men would have to abandon their livelihoods and families to
join the fight and the women and children would be left to fend for themselves.
Only
the hardest and meanest soldiers were
still
surviving the battles. As such the armies became smaller, but
much
more brutal and less loyal to the King and country, and more loyal to
their commanders. They were becoming less like armies of the
realm and
more like small bands of lawless mercenaries. There were the occasional
stories of mass rape and pillage or wanton destruction in some of the towns
further outlying that
filtered back to the hamlet, but as yet there was no sign of such
anarchy here.
Word
was beginning to spread through the land that
the King was losing control. His armies appeared to
be breaking up such that they could not be effective against a larger
organized force
and things were starting to look bleak for the future of the human
race. The people of the realm were becoming very concerned and
disenchanted with their monarch.
One
group of soldiers in particular was commanded by a man
named Braddock who was rumored to be heartless, vicious and brutally
efficient at killing anyone or anything that got in his way.
Those
qualities certainly made him well suited to the job of eliminating the
kobold threat, though it also caused the general populace to fear him
rather than respect him.
He had been involved in the war since it began. It was said he kept only the
meanest of the soldiers under his command. He did not want anyone serving under him
who
would show any mercy to anyone, ever. They had to be completely
loyal
to him as well and it was said if they ever crossed him they would get
forty lashes with a whip that had razor sharp kobold claws
attached to
the end until half their skin was flayed off.
The commander also
felt that his needs went above all else in the realm. If he
needed anything from any town he simply took it. Somehow the
King's decree did not apply to him. This could be in part because
Braddock was also the King's most loyal lord commander and the most
successful
leader in the war. It was generally felt that if any one man
could win this war for the humans, it would be him.
Neville did
not see anything in particular that was
wrong with Braddock's approach if that's what it took to take down the
enemy. He would sacrifice anything he could to the cause and he
felt sure that the other townsfolk would feel the same.
He wished Braddock's forces would come through his own town so he
could try to help them
in some way. When he was old enough and ready to fight he would
seek
the man out and ask to join him.
He had begun to feel an
overwhelming
and blinding hatred towards the vicious kobolds for what they were doing to
his people. His protective and helpful nature drove him to wish
he
could ride out to battle and do his part to push back the hordes and
defend his town and his family immediately, but he was far too young.
What could a thirteen year old boy possibly accomplish other than
getting killed?
He
wanted to be a fighter someday though, like Lord Braddock, and command an army of his own. As such he had convinced his
father to let him become an apprentice to the town blacksmith so that
he could begin to build some skills that may help him reach his goal.
'Convinced'
may actually be too strong a word as it implies that he had to work at it. When Neville approached his
father with the idea of working with the blacksmith he was worried that
his father would refuse due to it interfering with Neville's
responsibilities to the family's inn. Instead, when his
father heard the idea a wistful smile crossed his face and he
appeared to reminisce briefly, and then he nodded and said how the
smith was a very good man and he could think of nobody better to teach
his son.
The
smith was a large and rough man who Neville used to be very afraid of
when he was just a small boy. The man looked to be about six feet
and five inches and weighed at least eighteen stone. He
had dark hair and kept a tightly trimmed beard. He had a great
deal of body hair and a very large and muscular frame making him appear
almost bear like. He had a very kindly face with a friendly smile
but when Neville had been a very small boy he could not see up the full
length of the man to the kindly face, he simply saw a large bear
towering over him and he chose to run.
Neville lately had begun to think the man was
actually more than a little bit appealing, perhaps the single
most
appealing man in the whole village. In fact, Neville had become
secretly smitten with him. He wished he lived in a world where he
could marry the man so that he could be in his bed and be fucked by
him every night and wake to suck his cock for him in the morning. He would live to make the man feel good and happy.
He
loved the
natural way
the man smelled in his sweaty clothes with his bulging arms and thick
stocky chest. He was always so dirty and sweaty and he exuded
masculinity. His crotch was very full and his
language was somewhat vulgar and crass and he even sometimes told lewd
jokes to the boy and then rubbed at his crotch.
All
of the very qualities
of the smith that had caused Neville to run in fear from him years ago when he was a
little boy, now lit a fire in Neville's loins and pulled him toward the big man like
metal to a lodestone.
Neville knew these desires were wrong but he
couldn't help thinking about them while he worked around the man.
In his fantasies, Neville was
sometimes punished by the smith in various rough and naughty ways for
not learning his job quickly enough and he became obsessed with
thoughts of the man dealing harsh justice to him in order to correct
his ways.
He
imagined spilling the oil that was used to hone the blades onto the
front of the smith's britches, and the man getting so angry he would
tear them off and order the boy to wash them inside and out with his tongue, but not
before washing the smith's dirty, smelly, and now oily crotch thoroughly as well. Neville
would find that the man's massive cock was particularly dirty and he
would need to spend a great deal of time there with his tongue to wash
things properly around the stiffening member and the big sweaty balls.
This would arouse the smith to the point where he would push his hands
onto Neville's head and start mashing his thick dick all over Neville's
face. He would start to cum as he humped himself against the boy and his thick hot seed would splash all over
and spread around Neville's face. The hot spurting cum would ooze down the smith's
massive penis in streams to cover the throbbing rod, his thick patch of pubic
hair, and his massive balls. Needless to say this would mess
things up so much that Neville would simply have to clean it all over
again, still with his tongue of course, and much more eagerly this time.
He
also loved to imagine that maybe the smith would be particularly disgusted with
how the boy was not learning to properly quench the hot metal and would
teach him a lesson by urinating on Neville's naked body. Neville being
the dedicated employee would ensure that he learned the lesson well by
writhing under the hot yellow stream so that he was covered
completely, and just to show his atonement he would open his mouth and
let it be filled with the rough smith's piss. He would relish the wonderful smell and the
acrid taste and drink as much as he could as penance for his
incompetence.
He
wasn't sure why he loved the idea of the man's piss so much but he did.
He often ran to the back of the shop to peek out through a hole
in the rough wood wall when he knew the smith was going out there to
relieve his bladder into the long grass out back. Neville loved
to watch the blacksmith piss. The smith would almost always be
standing facing left using his right hand to hold his penis and guide the stream.
This would give Neville a perfect view of his incredible thick
organ and its beautiful generous foreskin as the thick stream erupted
from the slit of the big head.
He
loved the way the heavy yellow
stream glistened as it arced through the sunlight and the sound it made
as it cascaded
over the weeds and grasses. For some reason the smith seemed to
enjoy seeing his piss splashing all over the leaves of the weeds
rather than just pissing on the dirt. He would spray it around
hitting as many plants as he could like it was some game. Then
sometimes the
smith would begin to stroke his big cock and it
would quickly grow to full length. He would close his eyes and
tilt his head back and bring out his very large balls and massage them
with his left hand while stroking his thick long hard penis with his
right.
It
usually wouldn't take him long to reach orgasm and his knees would
start to buckle as he would moan and convulse as the shockwaves
pummeled him and his thick cock shot hot jets of cum out onto the
weeds. The smith seemed to like to aim the ropes of cum he shot
at the biggest leaf at hand so that the entire load would be puddled in
one place, weighing the leaf down. Neville presumed he did this
to enjoy looking at the incredible volume he produced. The boy
could not believe how much spunk the man shot out. Many times
what the boy could produce. Neville would almost cum himself as
he rubbed his hard pecker while watching the show. He did not
allow himself to reach orgasm though. He would save that for
after the smith returned to the shop.
When the smith came back
into the shop after relieving himself, Neville would pretend he needed
to go out and relieve
himself as well. He would quickly go right to the spot where the
blacksmith had been and inhale the aroma still floating up from the
piss soaked weeds. If the smith had spunked the boy would
immediately look for the leaf it had landed on and he would scoop it
into his palm and lick whatever was left off the leaf to enjoy the
taste of the smith's seed.
Then he would look for yellow drops hanging off the weeds,
there were always a lot of them,
and would put his tongue under them and knock them onto it.
He
loved the taste. He would lick every drop he could find and then
take his young cock in hand and work it feverishly using the smith's
thick cum mixed with a bit of spit as a lubricant. He would jack
it faster and faster with the taste of the smith's piss on his tongue
massaging the man's spunk into the skin of his young organ and thinking
of one of his many fantasies in which the smith used him roughly
until he grunted and shot his seed out to mingle with the man's urine.
He would then lick up any of the blacksmith's cum that still
remained on his hand before going back into the shop. This was
always the best part of his work day.
Neville's
favorite fantasy involving the smith was that he
would do a bad job of inserting a blade into a bone handle and the
smith would give him an idea how it was done by tearing off his
britches and forcing his huge rock hard cock into
Neville's backside and rutting his large sweaty body against the
boy until
he shot a gallon of his man seed into
him. The smith's cock would be so thick that it would stretch
Neville's hole to the limit and so long that the vibrations as it slid
back and forth along his sensitive anus would send him over the
edge to shoot his sweet young load onto the dirty floor. It would
please Neville to no end to know that he had made the smith feel so
good in a way that would make Neville feel so good as well.
These
fantasies of the big sweaty man releasing his pent up frustrations
about
his apprentice's ineptitude into Neville's yearning boy cunt would
often require the boy to have to hide the tent in his own trousers
caused
by his young boner while he worked. He knew the blacksmith would
not appreciate his illicit homosexual yearnings and he needed to keep
them secret.
The
blacksmith didn't appear to be interested in the boy's attention most of the
time. He certainly took whatever time was needed when teaching
the boy something new about his craft and he was an excellent teacher, but once the technique was
learned he would go off to his own work again and leave the boy to his.
There were even times when Neville was working and he noticed the
smith watching him and he would get up the nerve to find some excuse to
go and ask the smith a question just to get closer to him and build a
more personal relationship. The smith would usually turn away as
Neville approached as if to let him know he didn't want to be bothered.
Neville supposed this was to be expected. What interest
would a grown man have in forming a relationship with a boy?
He
was really not getting enough
chances to relieve his urges lately with his hand, and it truly was a
distraction sometimes. It had gotten so bad that sometimes if the
smith was working particularly hard on something that would require his
focus for a good while Neville would slip his hands down the front of
his own trousers and stroke his cock while watching the man from behind.
When
the smith was banging out shapes in thin metal for helms he would
usually
have no shirt and actually strip to his breechclout to keep cool while
he wielded his big hammer. Neville was so taken by the rippling
muscles on the man's back with the sweat pouring down them as he worked
he would start to feel light
headed. The smith's legs where so thick and masculine they would
raise the heat in the boy's crotch just staring at them. Mostly
he wished the breechclout itself would fall off. He imagined
himself reaching to retrieve it for the smith after it fell off but
upon finding himself on his knees before that beautiful sight of that
muscular ass, he would give in to his darkest carnal urge and begin
pleasuring the smith's sweaty anus with his tongue.
It
would not take long for the boy to cum right inside his trousers.
At least then he would get some release from the distraction for
a short time.
Once,
the smith had asked the boy to hand him a tool right at the most
inopportune time just as he'd been shooting his load into his hand inside his trousers
and without
thinking, and in his rush to please the smith, Neville pulled his hand out and used it to grab the tool, accidentally
smearing some of his boy spunk onto the tool before handing it over to
the man. The
smith had taken the tool and noticed the slime on it and wondered what
it was. He swiped some on to the tips of his fingers and sniffed
at it. He thought he saw the smith
smirk but he turned away too quickly for Neville to be sure. He
definitely
had to be more careful.
While most of his blacksmith related
fantasies involved Neville being inept and then justly punished, the
reality was that he was a quick
study. As tempted as he may be to intentionally do something
wrong
just to see what the big man would do about it, he followed his nature
instead and remained a dedicated and hard worker. In truth the
smith
could not be more delighted or impressed by Neville's progress and his
enthusiasm as an apprentice.
The
boy felt that working with the blacksmith would help him build his
physical
strength while learning the intricacies of the weapons and armor that
the smith occasionally repaired for the King's armies. He
would
sometimes
practice swinging the smaller bastard swords to build up his sword arm
or practice with a shield to get the feel and balance of it.
The
smith had done some fighting himself in his younger days and he seemed
genuinely interested in helping the boy to learn. As a reward for
his hard work the smith had decided to take one hour from
each day to quickly eat their lunch, and then drill the boy to teach him everything he knew
about fighting. He would make Neville practice the correct way to
stand and thrust, or dodge and parry. He would take a wooden
sword and come at the boy to teach him how to use his shield properly
for defense. He would make him do strength building exercises and
teach him how to care for weapons and armor in the field. Neville
felt grateful to the smith and it only made
him want to work harder and please him more.
As Neville labored in the smithy, replacing damaged rings on mail suits, he
sometimes imagined wearing the armor himself. He dreamed of becoming so
good at crafting the weapons and armor that
he would finally make a set for himself. They would be the most
impressive armor and
weapons ever seen. He would wear them into battle and ultimately to victory as
the hero who would
rally the forces to finally defeat the kobolds in their nearby desert
lands to the west. He would be just like Lord Braddock.
Then he would
move on to wipe out the evil orcs in the forests to the east and the ogres in the cold brutal mountains to
the north. They were all vile creatures that were bent on the
destruction of the human race and, as kind and full of love
as Neville was toward his own people, he could not help hating the
other races as he had been
taught to do from when he was a baby. He wanted to see them wiped
out completely.
He
had only just begun his apprenticeship with the smith a few months ago
and he was finding it rather difficult to balance his work there
alongside his duties to his parents and the family's inn. He was
determined to make it work though. The downside was that he had
to
rise earlier than ever to do his morning chores at the inn, and then spend
most of the day at the smith's shop.
When he got back home he had
to
set to
work again helping in the kitchen and serving food to the guests and
clearing tables. It was also his responsibility to wash all of the
dishes and kitchen pots and scrub the area to get it ready for the
preparation of breakfast while his mother prepared the rooms for the guests. It was now even rarer that he would
find himself
with a moment where he had performed every chore required of him and he
could rest for a bit. By then it was normally late in the evening
and
time for him to go to bed anyhow.
As he lay in his bed now with the large cucumber up his bottom, his thoughts turned back to
the fantasy that was currently playing out in his head as he stroked
his cock in the dark. It was a particularly violent and unpleasant one
that seemed to creep into his mind more often of late, when he was
extremely tired or frustrated at his inability to take part in the war
that had cost the lives of his friends and was threatening his home.
In
this fantasy he was again the conquering hero having just defeated
the last of the kobold forces in a great battle. The few
remaining commanders of the kobold armies were lined up before him and
their grand chieftain had been dragged up and forced to his knees in
front of
Neville. He would tell the chieftain that not only were he and
his
armies utterly defeated, but that Neville's army would proceed to march through
their lands and kill every kobold male, female and whelp until not one
of them remained to stain the land. He would spit at the
kobold leader's face to the barks, yips and snarls of the kobold
commanders.
Finally,
overcome by his hatred of the race, he would
step up in the shining armor of his own design, wielding the trusty
weapon he had made himself, and strike off the head of the chieftain
with his great sword in a single easy stroke and kick its skull to the
side like it was so much garbage. He would begin to urinate on
the
stump of neck jutting from the beast's torso and insert his cock into the exposed,
warm,
snug, bloody throat and empty his bladder into it. This would get
him so
aroused that he would harden up and begin to hump the chieftain's corpse until he
shot his spunk into it and then let it drop to the ground. As the
kobold commanders whined and yelped at their loss and outrage he would
give the order for all of his men to do the same to them.
Neville moaned
louder and started humping his hips up into his hand as he
imagined all of this. He was overcome with a feeling of intense
power and savagery and as his orgasm hit him hard he bucked and shot
his young spunk onto his belly in
spurt after spurt, moaning and groaning until finally he became spent
and began to settle down.
In the afterglow of his release he
tended to
feel deeply ashamed of these horrific thoughts. They were not
truly
his nature. He knew these thoughts were sick and twisted, but
when his
hatred for the kobolds was at its peak it would intrude even into his
sexual fantasies and warp them. He wondered if this was the way
his hero Lord Braddock thought. Perhaps it was what gave him the
strength to survive so many battles against the monsters. Perhaps it would do the same for Neville someday.
Neville
felt if he kept up these fantasies much longer he would begin to
change. He would no longer be the person he knew. He wasn't
sure if that was a bad thing though. He would like to be just
like Lord Braddock if he could.
He
did sometimes wish he could go back to
being the carefree boy he had been years ago but he knew the time had
come for him to grow up and prepare to become a man.
He drifted
off to
sleep wondering just what sort of man he might become, not knowing that
the word carefree would be the absolute least appropriate word to
describe his life in the very near future.
Within minutes, in
fact.
***
If
you enjoyed this story and would like to read more from the author
please look in the Gay/Adult-Youth section at Nifty.org for...
The Patriarch
- The ongoing adventures of a man, possibly the only one
remaining in the world, and the young boy he takes under his wing as
they travel through a world where the majority of the human race has
been wiped out by a plague. The disease's lethality was linked to
sexual maturity killing the adults and leaving the earth's children to
fend for themselves.
The Sock Thief
- The heart warming story of how a humorous encounter brought about by
a fetish not only leads to unexpectedly wild sex between a man and a teenaged boy, but also changes their lives in a way neither
could have foreseen.
or check the Gay/SF-Fantasy section for...
James and the Giant Perv
- A humorous modern fairy tale involving three teenaged boys,
some "beans", a very tall pervert who dwells in his own kingdom in the
clouds, and the various interesting ways they find to enjoy each other
sexually.
Thank
you,
JakeXtraTall@gmail.com
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