Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2004 20:59:20 -0700

From: The Satyr <the.satyr@gmail.com>

Subject: Gay Sci-Fi Fantasy: A Stag God is Born, Chapter I

A STAG GOD IS BORN

- A Tale of Old Gods

Chapter One

Madness. Chaos. Cold and wet, the sight of the moon against the night

sky, viewed through the close-set branches of oak and ash and thorne

grown wild and gnarled overhead. The feeling of running, full-tilt,

through the woods, branches whipping against his muscled legs and

naked loins. An erection so intense that it hurts, it aches. The urge

to mate, driving him on, furiously seeking to find the source of the

<i>huuuuurn</i> mating call of the stag-kind of these woods.

With a gasp and a sob, Ashlan awoke, tumbling himself out of bed.

For a few heartbeats, Ashlan wept, wrapped in his blankets on the

ground, his senses gradually growing more accustomed to the dark, dry

warmth of his room, limned in the dark red light shed by the dying

embers in his hearth. Slowly, he peeled the blankets away from his

body. They stuck slightly to his flesh, sticky with semen.

He sighed and gingerly touched the spot on his head where he'd struck

the hard floor in his fall. For another few heartbeats, he kept his

eyes closed as his senses returned to normal, the experience of

running rampant in the woods slowly fading from his mind -- fading more

slowly than any dream should. For a fifteen year old boy who had a

hard time remembering his dreams, it was terrifying that nighttime

visions should force their way into his senses that way. Indeed,

sometimes, if he started daydreaming during his lessons, those same

impulses flooded his brain. They were becoming stronger and harder to

fight.

He stood, tossing his blankets into the corner and threw on his robe.

He stretched and dried his eyes. His uncle had taken interest in his

dreams, even going so far as to consult a seer (who'd proven to be

nothing of the sort). His uncle had made him promise to tell him when

those dreams happened, so he straightened his robes and ran his

fingers through the shaggy mop of chestnut colored hair that was his

legacy from his mother, gods rest her soul.

He silently padded down the long corridor that separated the guest

wing of his uncle's manor from the master wing, where his uncle slept.

He strode past the lavish furnishings that were considered the due of

a merchant-prince such as his uncle Artemi Bayan, a merchant who got

his start in lumber and slaves. Ashlan had lived with his uncle Artemi

since he was a small boy, brought here after the death of his mother
and raised by a variety of tutors, nannies and even his bachelor uncle

when the influential man could spare the time. Uncle Artemi was an

upstanding, important man in the Barian League, looked up to and the

friend of many important nobles.

Ashlan stopped at the massive oak doors that opened into this uncle's

suite. He knocked once, then twice. He thought his uncle must be

sleeping deeply, so he pressed his ear to the door, listening for the

big man's distinctive snore -- and heard ... something else. It sounded

like the sounds of quiet violence: snarls and choking, the sound of

grappling and perhaps even sobbing. Quietly, he opened the door to his

uncle's room to make sure that everything was all right.

His uncle lay face down on his massive bed, his bearded face obscured

by the rich down comforters that lay thickly on the feather bed. Above

him, a massively muscled orc, his thick neck bound in the leather and

brass collars of his uncle's slave pens, drove a thick cock into his

uncle's ass, battering his sharp hip-bones against the rounded orbs of

Artemi's bruised asscheeks. The thick cock looked more like a cudgel

than the sexual equipment of a man. Drool trickled around the fierce

tusks and down the thick lips of the orc's face, dropping in viscous

threads onto his uncle's back as the orc used one meaty hand to hold

his uncle's face down on the bed and the other to grip his hips.

The orc's grip was strong and when he leaned forward to shove his fat
cock deep into his uncle's bowels, Artemi whimpered. Ashlan watched,

fascinated as the orc's face, a mask of cruelty and revenge for the

humiliation being a slave meant to one of the orcish folk, contorted

and he bared his tusks. His hips began hammering faster at his uncle's

rear, slamming his hard meat deep into the depths of his uncle's ass.

Uncle Artemi groaned again, and looked as though he were in pain,

being held down by the orc's firm grip. He moved and thrashed as the

orc's assault sped up and the orc shoved his weight forward, rising up

on his toes so that he buried the human beneath his bulk. This

position also gave him great leverage to continue pummeling the ass of

Ashlan's uncle.

Ashlan watched for a few moments. Then, the orc looked up suddenly and

noticed him. His tusked mouth broke into a grin.

Ashlan gasped. His uncle's head shot up and the orc fell back against

the headboard, his meaty cock pulling free from Artemi's hole with a

wet sound. Ashlan shrieked, turned on his heel and fled into the

darkness of the corridor outside.

"Guards! Guards!" he cried, running towards the barracks.

Two armed men in his uncle's livery came around the corridor, drawing

their weapons as they asked him what was wrong. Fearful tears
streaming down his face, he pointed them at the now-partially open

door to his uncle's chambers. The men quickly rushed into the room.

Ashlan stood, fearful, listening for sounds of violence.

After a short time, he crept closer, hearing voices -- including his

uncle's voice raised in anger. He peered in and saw the orc slave,

kneeling at the foot of Artemi's bed while his uncle pulled on a robe,

upbraiding the soldiers, who looked at the ground with something like

shame mixed with disgust. The orc looked at the boy and chuckled,

winking at the lad.

Uncle Artemi noticed and whirled on the boy, his face -- normally so

handsome and strong -- red with rage.

"Get out of my sight. Go to your room! Now!"

Ashlan turned and fled, confused and afraid.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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Regards,

The Satyr