The Hawthorne Accord - Chapter 1 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.
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Thank you,
SockThief
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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.
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