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  1. BarbellWriter

    Hero of Mordac Added all chapters 12/12/23

    Another old story of mine involving myth and ancient strongmen who battle Crime moments welcome especially if you want to see more of my work THE STRENGTH CHRONICLES

(c) 2023 All rights reserved. Not to be reproduced or posted without author's permission. 

Hero of Mordac
 Part I


 The oracle raised her eyes to the small glowing blue orb of clouds, which was suspended in the air above her whereupon she called out, "My Lord, your people in Gloth cry out for your deliverance from their evil Queen Lynya and her oppression. Will you not send Goliath to liberate them?"

 The orb began to rotate quickly and flashed brightly as it spoke to her slowly with a deep and commanding voice. "I, Mordac, have heard these pleas. Their liberation will come at a great sacrifice but the time is upon us. Summon Goliath here, for this task will fall to him and it will be his greatest challenge."

 "As you command, my Lord."

 Goliath upon receiving the message from the oracle quickly journeyed to her temple. It had been six years since the god Mordac, the First among the gods and Goliath's benefactor, had given him the gift of super strength to end injustice in the mortal world. He was before the gift a tall, solid framed but ordinary man. With the gift, he grew into a muscular figure; with a height of 6 foot one (186 cm), 220 lbs (102 kg) of muscle and power. His hairless chest was 51 inches (129 cm) and he had biceps of 19 inches (48 cm) and off his 30 inch (76 cm) waist were quads of 26 inches (66 cm). Mordac had chosen Goliath for his moral goodness and bravery and had made him his servant. Since the gift, Goliath had already performed many tasks for the supreme god, helping the armies of the weak overcome their oppressors and had traveled far. But he was weary from his last labour and had sought a rest. That rest was short lived.

 " Come Markus, come Estus, it is not much farther," Goliath shouted to his pupil and servant. Estus watched Goliath as he climbed the steep steps up to the oracle's temple. He was always in awe of him. Of his power. Of his strength. Of his physique. Of his masculine beauty. We watched his broad lats that grew widely out of his waist and as each foot of the giant hit the stone step, his gastroc and soleus flashed at him. But Estus knew all that beauty and power came at a price imposed by the god. He also knew his admiration and love of his mentor would never be returned.

As he reached the entryway, Goliath said "Estus come with me and you Markus wait here." Markus was a short and thin man, limited in mind and will, but always eager to help his two masters. He rarely complained about the carrying burdens placed on him in their long and dangerous journeys. However, he did not share in the full knowledge of Goliath's tasks and burdens nor his secrets. He wanted to join his friends inside the temple to see what they and learn what he learned of their new quest but he knew he had to obey. Yet he peered and tried to look inside from behind a bush at the entrance of the stone temple.

 Estus and Goliath entered the temple where the oracle was waiting for them. 
Without a greeting, she addressed them. "You face a most difficult challenge in Gloth against Queen Lynya and her henchmen," she said. "She is a sorceress and a follower of Lardac."

 Estus shuttered. Lardac, the most feared and hated god, was the female twin sister of Mordac who had overcome her to become the First among the Gods. Following that struggle, she had turned to doing great evil among the mortals to gain revenge on her brother and the world he protected. It was said that she was almost as powerful as her divine twin. While Estus and Goliath had faced many of the minor gods and their servants, not one was as powerful as Lardac.

 “You must go to Gloth and rally the rebels who oppose her for there is much fear in their hearts. But remember your oath, Goliath. And if you break your oath, your gift will pass." 

Goliath nodded as did Estus. He remembered the two promises he had to make to Mordac to receive the gift. "Fear not," he said to reassure the oracle, "I have kept my vow and have not fulfilled my lust for any woman that I desired.” "

Mordac knows of the strong lust that lies within your heart and he is pleased with you," said the Oracle. "You shall travel to Gloth for the Festival of Arkyll. During the festival, you will issue to the Queen the Gordarian Challenge. Go now to the home of Areleus outside of Gloth and prepare your plan!"

 Goliath bowed his head and he and Estus left the temple and joined Markus outside for their long journey to Gloth. "What is the Gordarian Challenge?" asked Estus. "During the festival, any man can challenge the rule of the Queen. Both sides pick a warrior to represent them in the arena for a fight. Whosever's warrior wins becomes the ruler of the kingdom. The custom was used in Gloth for centuries to avoid civil wars." Goliath explained. "It will save many lives if the Queen cooperates?."

 Queen Lynya and Yamin entered the Temple of Lardac to consult the High Priestess. The Queen was not a beautiful woman, shapely but plump yet with fair skin and long dark hair. Her servants worked hard to give her what beauty she had. She wore flowing robes of the finest silk and covered herself with jewelry bought from the spoils of her rule. Yamin, the Queen's personal bodyguard and commander of her security guards, accompanied her and was often acted in her stead. He was handsome with a physique that rivaled that of Goliath. She found him very attractive and often just gazed at his beauty with his curly dark hair and deep blue eyes with grapefruit-sized delts, his massive 50 inch (127 cm) chest with square pecs, and 18 inch (46 cm) biceps, down to his 29 inch (74 cm) waist, rock hard abs and huge quads, all rapped in his olive, hairless skin. He was known as the strongest man in her kingdom and he was cunning. It was said that he once pushed over a stone building to crush a rebellion in the marketplace against the Queen's rule.


 "I seek the help of Lord Lardac," said the Queen as she came upon the priestess.

 "Lord Lardac knows why you are here," said the priestess. "Your rule faces its greatest danger for Mordac has sent his servant Goliath to overthrow you."

The Queen knew what this danger meant and she beseeched the priestess. "I beg Lord Lardac to help me against this threat. What greater delight would Lord Lardac have than to see the servant of Mordac defeated? Will she not help me overcome him?"

 “Golaith is a powerful man and has the gift of strength from Mordac. And like all of Mordac's gifts to mortals, it comes with a vow for its use."

 “Tell me, what is this vow and how will this help me?" she begged.

 “Not even Lord Lardac knows, for Mordac shields this knowledge from her. However, that is what Lord Lardac says you must discover. You do not have much time for even now the rebels plan against you. You will face the Gordarian Challenge during the Festival of Arkyll."

 Realizing she would get no further with the priestess, the Queen returned to her chambers in the palace with Yamin. She pondered her next move. She spoke aloud, "If the knowledge is hidden from even Lardac, my sorcery will not reveal it from the Fates." Yasmin replied, "But Goliath must have this knowledge and perhaps one of his servants also knows and if we can get it from them, we will victorious," said Yamin. 

 Golaith and his men reached the home of Arellus and knocked on the door. His servant, Morus, let them in. "Welcome Goliath," said Arellus. "I heard that you were coming to help us, thank the Gods! With you at our side, I know now the people will rally and the Queen's rule will come to an end."

 “Let us hope so. Now we must plan," he replied.

 Golaith, Arellus and Estus made their plans to attack if the Queen did not surrender following Goliath's win in the Gordarian Challenge, while Morus served them food and drink. Later that night, Goliath said, "Ah our plans are now complete. I will go to the palace tomorrow to issue the challenge to the Queen."

 "You must be careful Goliath. Her warrior will be Yamin who is said to be the strongest man in Gloth. It will not be an easy fight," advised Arellus.

 ”Don't worry. No one has ever bested my strength. Golaith flexed his huge lean bicep to show its size to Arellus while the veins around it exploded. "You forget Mordac's power is within me."

 "I have no doubts my friend" as he padded Goliath on his ripped back. "Once your victory in the contest is complete, our forces will attack if the Queen does not go peacefully into exile. We will be hidden around the coliseum awaiting the result and will have a victory march to the palace upon your victory."

 As the men went to sleep, Morus slipped out of the house that night and headed toward the palace. At the Palace, Yamin listened to Morus and gave him 18 pieces of silver.

 To be continued THE STRENGTH CHRONICLES Hero of Mordac Part II The next day, Goliath, Estus and Markus entered the city. The city was crowded with visitors who came to celebrate the Festival of Arkyll. The men approached the palace gate. The gatekeeper recognized Goliath from just looking at the size of his build and let them in and said, "Our Queen is awaiting you Goliath. I shall take you to her." The men entered the throne room. The Queen sat on her throne at the end of the room with Yamin standing at her right side akimbo at her side with two bulging hairless tan pecs above them. He dropped his arms as Goliath approached. Estus gaped and could not believe the size of Yamin. He had never seen any man come close to Goliath in size or shape. His 17-inch (43 cm) gastrocs poked out from behind his lower legs, his quads were large, lean and hung down like he had a second knee cap. His six pack abs were large and cut. His forearms showed all his vascularity and his triceps and lats hung wide. He had 25-inch (63 cm) shoulders with bulging delts and an 18 inch (46 cm) thick neck. His eyes traveled up to Yamin's deep blue eyes. Yamin's cold eyes caught Estus's staring at him. Estus's heart leaped and his eyes jumped away from Yamin's piercing glare. Yamin smirked and understood. "Goliath" said the Queen. "We heard of your pending visit and we welcome you to Gloth for the Festival of Arkyll." "Then you know I am here not to celebrate, your Majesty, but to present the Gordorian Challenge to you. Your rule has been cruel and it must come to an end." "Hubris does not become you, Goliath. If this were not the Festival of Arkyll, I would have my guards cut you down as you stand before me. But I am bound by the rules of the Gods and I accept your challenge. Who is your sponsor Goliath or do you plan to rule my kingdom yourself if you win?" "My sponsor is Arellus, former head of the Senate. Name your challenger." "Yes, Arellus. I should have known. Remind me to have him killed when this is over. Well, my challenger shall be Yamin who stands here at my side. You will find him a formidable opponent." Goliath eyed Yamin who tightened his muscles and flared his lats to show off his size. Goliath was unfazed. "As is the custom, you and your friends shall stay here tonight. As you know no harm will come to you and your Sponsor for we respect the rules of the challenge. You will attend a dinner in your honor tonight but without your man-servants." "So be it," said Goliath and the guards showed Goliath and his two companions their separate palace rooms. After Goliath left his room for evening banquet, guards came to the room of Estus. Estus let them in expecting supper. There at the door was instead stood the husky muscled Captain of the Guard, Axus, and his men. "Come with me, Estus." "Come where?" asked Estus. "You will see?" replied the captain as he turned around to leave. "I am not going anywhere with you," snapped Estus. The captain swung around and landed his fist across Estus's jaw knocking him out. Estus was a well developed man of about 5 foot 10 inches (178 cm) in height and 180 lbs (82 kg). He was broad shouldered and lean and muscular like an athlete. But the punch surprised him and the guards carried him to the dungeon where his limbs were hung from chains. The captain threw water in Estus's face to awaken him. Estus stared at his captor. "Let me go," he said. "This is a violation of the rules!" "Well, not quite," said the captain. You see the rules only protect the warrior and the sponsor, not any of their friends." Estus's eyes narrowed in anger. "Now Estus, we know that there is a vow Goliath gave to Mordac and we need to tell it to us." Estus's eyes widened with surprise, then he realized he needed to control his expressions. "What are you talking about”! I know of no such vow. Just wait till your Yamin meets Goliath in the arena tomorrow. He will be crushed." "Ha!" laughed the captain. "If you don't cooperate with us, that man over there is going to make you cooperate." In the corner of the cell was a large, fat, hairy bear-chested man carrying a hot glowing steel rod. "I will never tell you anything because there is nothing to tell," said Estus. In his mind he knew he would not betray the man he loved. His torturer approached. At the banquet, the food platters were immense and numerous. Wine flowed freely to the guests. Goliath was hungry but regretted that he did not insist that Estus and Markus be able to attend. Yamin did not eat with the guests. He stood by watching Goliath's every move and pondering. He scanned Goliath's physique to compare it to his own. He admired how Goliath's biceps moved so smoothly and visibly under his thin skin as he drank his wine. Yamin thought he looked slightly smaller than Goliath. Would he be able to overpower Goliath in the contest? Clearly Goliath had a physique that rivaled his own. But he knew larger does not always mean stronger, for he had taken down giants many times larger than he was with his own strength. And what was this super strength that Mordac had given him? How powerful was it? Why was it given to him? The Queen had been giving Yamin a brew from the creatine plant over the past week which she said would increase his strength. Would it be enough? If Goliath were to lose the gift, would he still be strong or would he be a weakling? These and other thoughts ran through his head. As Yamin was pondering, Axus came up to him from behind and whispered in his ear. Yamin grinned widely. The Hero of Mordac Part III As Yamin was pondering, Axus came up to him from behind and whispered in his ear. Yamin grinned widely. He went over to the Queen and whispered in her ear. “Excuse me,” the Queen said to Goliath. “There is something I must handle. I will be back shortly.” Goliath and the Queen went to her chambers. “This is amazing,” said the Queen. “It is too easy.” “Well, don’t be so sure,” cautioned Yamin. “He must have very strong will power and we cannot be sure the information is totally correct. It seems too incredible.” The queen fumbled around the draws of her bureau as if looking for something while Yamin watched. “Here it is!” and she pulled out a black, shiny girdle and she held it up in the light and it glistened. Yamin laughed. “You are looking for underwear at a time like this?” “Yes but a potent one. This is the Venusian girdle. No man who is the least attracted to me can resist my overtures while I wear it! Goliath himself will fall to my seduction!” Yamin looked skeptical. Reaching for a vial filled with red fluid from the shelf, the Queen told Yamin, “Put this special portion in Goliath’s wine tonight. Be sure you deliver it at the end of the meal in the final toast. The wine will help weaken his will power and this potion will make him sleepy and when he sleeps it will cause him to forget everything that happened after he drank it.” Yamin nodded. They returned to the banquet room which has grown boisterous with music and dance. Goliath ate and drank heavily that night, and toward the end of the banquet, Yamin signaled to the head waiter to deliver the wine glass with the Queen’s special potion in it to Goliath. Following the closing toast, the Queen quickly returned to her quarters while Axus showed Goliath to his room. In her chambers, the Queen undressed and slipped into the black girdle. She gazed at herself in the mirror and her plumb figure. Suddenly the girdle seemed to warm up. Then as she watched, her skin seemed to be absorbing it. Soon the girdle had disappeared into her hips. She looked at herself nude in front of the mirror. She became warm all over and her skin began to glow. It started in her hips. They smoothed out and her excess fat melted away leaving her butt smooth, round and toned. Then the changes traveled down her legs and up into her chest. Her waist shrunk and became tight and small. Again her body fat melted leaving her belly flat, firm and smooth. Her nipples rose and her breasts became firm, rounded and erect, hanging like two plump grapefruits from her chest with cleavage between them. Meanwhile, her legs grew shapely. Her arms thinned and toned while her shoulders grew slightly wider. She gazed at her new body and moved her hands along her new curves. She was amazed at the beauty. She quickly put on her silk nightgown and called to Axus who was outside her door to bring Goliath to her. Axus knocked on Goliath’s door while he was getting ready for sleep. “Goliath, the Queen requests you to meet her now.” “What for, at this hour?” asked Goliath for he was feeling sleepy. “She wants to discuss a way to avoid this fight in the arena tomorrow,” said Axus. “Well, may be now she has come to her senses,” said Goliath. “Lead on.” Axus left Goliath in the Queen’s chambers. From behind him, the Queen called him and said, “Goliath, we have important matters to discuss.” Goliath turned around and there he saw the Queen leaning against the wall in a semi-transparent nightgown. Othertimes she had been wearing her heavy, stately robes. He stared at her. Her shape was smooth, her breasts full and succulent. He had never examined her shape this way before but now the girdle was working its magic. His heart began beating faster. She approached him and touched his arms gently, running her fingers up to his massive triceps. “You know,” she said, “when I saw your handsome face before me, I thought there must be another way to resolve our quarrel and I must find it.” Goliath just stared at her admiring her beauty, her words almost sounding musical to him. “I never wanted this challenge for you or for me. Maybe there is way I can change and we can avoid all this. You know, Goliath, running a kingdom is hard. Decisions are not easy to make, especially alone, and sometimes we make the wrong ones,” she said as she massaged his shoulders. “Yes, if you change, we could avoid all this,” he answered meekly as her kneading relaxed his muscles and thought and his eyes began to close. She took him by the hand and led him to a silk covered ottoman and they sat down. She leaned back on the pillows and held her chest up and Goliath gazed at her full and round breasts. He had become aroused now and then he remembered his vow and looked away from her and cleared his voice, and said firmly. “If you give up your throne and restore the Senate, this would all end. Arellus would agree to this. All you have to do is announce it to the people.” She reached out gracefully with her finger and touched his square jaw to turn his head toward her face. He resisted but she said, “Look at me, Goliath, I need to see the sincerity in your eyes when we speak about such important things.” So Goliath turned his face toward her and he caught his gaze in the beauty and firmness of her large, erect nipples. “I could agree to this but I am frightened,” she whispered. “I know many people hate me. If I give up my guards, my throne, how do I know I won’t be killed? Who will protect me?” she cooed. She sat up and drew her face close to his as he raised his eyes to hers. He was now fully erect and she could see the bulge in his loincloth. His voice said to himself, “I am only looking at her. I have kept my vow. Nothing will happen. I will walk away soon once we have made a deal. I need to be here now to settle this.” She gently stroked his cheek with her smooth palm. “While…I….” he stammered, “will make sure no one hurts you if you make this bargain. You have the word of Goliath,” he whispered. “I must thank you,” she said and pressed her lips against his. He pulled his head back but she placed her hand behind his head and forced their lips together again. The sensation exploded in his brain. It had been six years since he felt this way. His reason seemed suspended in air as the voice of his will began to fade inside his head. He embraced her. After their kiss, she whispered “Oh to touch you this way!” and kissed him again and began stroking him between his legs while he placed his hand on her breast. Her breast swelled with his touch and she stood up bringing his face into her bosom. Fragrant, clear drops of an aphrodisiac formed on her nipples. He smelled their sweetness and brought his lips to suck on them. “Come to me for I am yours tonight,” she said. The drops worked quickly and all remaining reason left him and his inner voice was silenced. He mounted her on the bed and they made love. With each thrust, his man juice flowed and flowed eventually overwhelming her. It leaked out of her over the bed and onto the floor. He kept pumping her and their ecstasy grew. She never felt such power from a lover and he seemed unable to stop, like a dam bursting with an endless supply of raging water. After an hour though, he finally weakened and collapsed on top of her exhausted. As Goliath lay deep asleep, the Queen signaled Yamin who was waiting. His cum was everywhere. “Take him to his room now. The potion will keep him asleep and he will remember nothing of this night.” Yamin hoisted the slumbering giant onto his shoulders and carried him to the guest quarters. He placed the naked muscleman down onto his bed and left his clothes nearby. He saw the cum on Goliath’s legs and scooped it up into his hand. He looked at it and wondered if it contained Goliath’s super strength. Gathering as much of it as he could and rubbed it into his own pecs and biceps hoping it would bring him the strength that Goliath was said to have. He then left the giant to his dreams knowing he would remember nothing of that night. The Gordian Challenge---Next! Hero of Mordac Part IV The Gordian Challenge With Goliath taken away, the Queen removed the girdle for she knew its dangers if it were worn too long. She placed it back in her drawer and went to bed to rest from the exhausting night. Estus's body hung from the chains in the dungeon. Half alive, half dead. He could barely see with his left eye and his right was swelled shut from the beatings. Tears of blood from his head left dried tracks on the side of his face. His body was battered, bruised and bleeding from the whippings, kicks, burnings and punches. His chin rested on his dirty and bloodied chest as he barely had any strength to hold it up. The room was partially lit from the torches that hung in the walls. The iron door to his cell was closed but the barred window at its top let more light in from the flaming urn in the hallway. Suddenly the door swung open but Estus made no effort to look up for he did not wish to see the next round of torture he felt was coming. Axus walked in, smiling at the tortured man before him. "Estus, wake up!" he shouted. "I bring you good news. Your torture is over for we have learned what we needed to know about Goliath!" Estus weakly raised his head to look at him with his left eye. "I have told you nothing, you pig" Estus hissed with defiance. "Yes, yes. But unfortunately for Goliath, someone else did," answered Axus who snapped his fingers at Estus's cell door. In came three guards, two of whom were carrying the broken and wounded body of Markus. Estus opened his left eye as wide as he could to see who it was. Markus slowly lifted his bloodied, swollen face and looked up at his friend and barely able to speak whispered, "I'm sorry, Master Estus. They promised to stop if I told them. I overheard Goliath at the temple speaking of his vow." Estus said in fright, "No you didn't Markus. You didn't hear anything. No!" "I had to tell. Forgive me. The pain… " and Markus's head went limp and he expired. As the guards began to take the body away, Estus shouted, "No, it's lies! Markus doesn't know anything. It's all lies!" and he began to cry. As the dawn arrived, Yamin awoke. He got up and looked in his mirror. He could see the caked cum on his arms and chest. He stared at himself. Were his biceps and pecs bigger? He flexed his right bicep. It rose high, round and large. Could the cum have changed him? Could he have Goliath's power now added to his own? He wasn't sure. No matter, he thought. Goliath could not have that god-like strength anymore and he was confident he could overpower him. He undressed and bathed in the hot springs tub next to his sleeping quarters. As he rose from the tub, his tan muscles glistened in the morning sunlight. He looked again at himself and rubbed his hands across his inflated pec wondering what it would be like to have a god's strength. An hour after the sun rose, a palace guard knocked on Goliath's door and entered his room. "Awake, Goliath! It is time for you to prepare for the Gordian Challenge!" The muscle titan slowly opened his eyes. He grabbed his head with his hands as it pounded with a headache. "Awake!" shouted the guard again. "I heard you!" shouted back Goliath, "Now leave me before I crush you!" The guard quickly retreated. The giant slowly stood up and staggered over to a basin of fresh water where placing his arms on the side of the table to told himself upright, his inverted v-shaped triceps jutting out. He bent his arms and dipped his face in the cool water. He shook the water from his head and raised it looking in the mirror in front of him. As the water dripped down his face back into the bowl, he saw that he looked tired. He noticed his arms looked smooth and not as defined as usual but they were still large though not as pumped. As he stood up, he noticed his pecs were not as full. "Too much wine," he thought to himself. He quickly bathed and got dressed and ate the bread and berries that were in his room. He remembered nothing of the night in the Queen's sleeping quarters as the elixir Yamin had put in his wine was still working its magic. Axus then arrived and escorted him to the arena floor where Yamin was waiting for him. The Queen had filled the arena seats with her supporters, many of whom were to be paid for their attendance and cheering. She sat in front wearing her regalia. On her right as is the custom for the Gordian Challenge was Arellus who was the challenger. "So glad you are here, Arellus," she said, "so you can see the death of your friend at the hands of my Yamin who is, no doubt you have heard, the strongest man there is." "I am glad to be here today, your Highness, so I can see Goliath bring an end to your rule," Arellus replied unemotionally. Axus raised his hands before the crowd and it grew silent. "Today is the day of the Gordian Challenge," he shouted. "Senator Arellus, through his challenger Goliath, challenges Queen Lyvna, who is defended by Yamin. Each challenger may pick a weapon which if lost may not be used again. What do you pick, Goliath?" "I pick the whip." "And you Yamin?" "The sword." "So be it" answered Axus and each man was handed their weapon of choice and they were placed twenty feet apart. Axus clapped his hands and shouted, "The Gordian Challenge has begun!" Each man slowly began to move toward the other. As Yamin and Goliath grew within range of Goliath's whip, Goliath snapped it and Yamin jumped back. Goliath charged and using his whip, snapped the sword from Yamin's hand which then fell to the ground. Stopping, Goliath snapped the whip again and it wrapped itself around Yamin's mighty forearm. It stung but Yamin grabbed the whip with both hands and yanked it hard. Goliath was pulled forward and landed face down on the ground with the whip pulled from his hands. As Yamin quickly removed the whip from his arm, he ran toward Goliath raising his left fist but Goliath was too quick and recovered to his feet where he grabbed the left arm of the charging Yamin and with his leg kicked him in the abs. As Yamin bent forward, Goliath slammed his clasped fisted hands into Yamin's wide lats sending him to the ground. As Yamin came up, Goliath wrapped his mighty right arm around Yamin's neck and began to choke the Queen's defender from behind. "Surrender now, Yamin or you will meet your end," he said. Yamin groaned and grabbed Goliath's right wrist and tried to pull the arm away from his throat. At first Goliath's arm did not move but slowly Yamin began to pull it back. Goliath pulled harder making his bicep even larger and once again his arm was squeezing Yamin's neck. Yamin brought up his right foot to the ground so he was now only kneeing on his left knee. Yamin's triceps began to tighten and swell more and again slowly Yamin began to move Goliath's arm away from him. Goliath could not understand this. He called upon more of his strength. He saw his bicep's muscle fibres dance under his skin but his arm did not respond with greater power as it had in the past. "How can this be?" he thought and he tried harder but Yamin slowly pulled Goliath's arm away. Goliath began to wince in pain as his bicep fibres began to tear. Yamin slowly rose up while jabbing his left elbow into Goliath's abs sending the former super powerful muscle god back hunched over in pain. Now Goliath was having doubts. Where was his strength and unlimited power? Could Yamin be stronger than he was? Why did his muscles not respond when he called upon them? How could Mordac have allowed this? Maybe he was still just tired from last night. His thinking and doubts distracted him and helped Goliath. Both giants rose and faced each other but Yamin turned around too quickly for the distracted Goliath and with his right leg Yamin gave Goliath a swift kick across his jaw turning it left. Then like lightening Yamin with his other leg's kick, hurled Goliath's jaw to the right, stunning him. Using his great tan quads, the Queen's muscular champion jumped off the ground and slammed both feet into Goliath's muscular chest sending his body against the stone wall of the arena. With the now stunned Goliath up against the wall, Yamin pounded his fists into the titan's six pack abs. Goliath instinctively tightened them when the first fist struck, making them rock hard as his mind attempted to clear. However, the fists continued to pound his strong abdominal muscles. With each pounding, one right then one left, Goliath's abs began to weaken. Once again Goliath tightened them making them harder than before and once again they began to weaken. He tried harder but his abs tightened each time less than before. The pounding continued and the muscle fibres began to give way to the continued strong onslaught of Yamin's relentless fists of power. Soon, no six pack was visible any more as the fibers became soft. As his mind began to clear, Goliath used his arms to shove Yamin away and out of the reach of the defender's fists. Goliath hunched over in agony fell onto one knee in pain wrapping his arms over his abs. The crowd cheered. While the push was powerful enough to move the 220-pound Yamin back, it did not send him far or to the ground as Goliath had expected. Goliath knew now that something was seriously wrong, his power was failing him and he did not understand why. "Lord Mordac, do not abandon me in this time of need," he whispered. Having heard his whisper and looking down at the kneeing giant, Yamin taunted him. "What is the matter mighty Goliath? Where is your great strength? Your broke your vow and don't even know it! You are a weakling compared to me now! You should worship me!" Goliath was shocked. How could Yamin know of his vow? Then Yamin said, "Maybe this will help you remember," and the towering muscleman repeated the magic words that the Queen had taught him that would break the spell of the elixir that had suppressed Goliath's memory. "Marrock boc sheeji." Goliath grabbed his head as his mind exploded with a visualization of all the events that happened last night in the Queen's bedroom. A look of horror and then anger filled his face. "Lord Mordac, please forgive me and help me one more time," he prayed. Yamin looked up at the cheering crowd. Meanwhile Goliath summoned all his power and strength into his left arm, back and leg muscles and quickly swung up from his kneeling position like a discus thrower and as Yamin turned toward him, Goliath pounded his mighty fist into the other giant's jaw turning it and sending the man stumbling to the right. Goliath thought Yamin seemed to be woozy from the blow. Yamin turned his face back to look at Goliath and smiled with all his beautiful white teeth. "Is that all the power you have left, weakling?" he said. Goliath swung his left again at him but Yamin put up his thick striated right arm and blocked the swing. Then using his left fist, Yamin swung it into Goliath's jaw and then hit him again with his right. The once mighty Goliath just stood there not able to move or regain consciousness fast enough to counter or escape. Yamin's fists pounded Goliath's head. Then the Queen's champion raised his fists overhead and pounded Goliath on his broad shoulders sending the stunned giant down onto his knees. As Goliath began to teeter, Yamin went around Goliath's wide back and grabbed the semi-unconscious victim's head and with a sharp powerful jerk, twisted it around to the back snapping his neck. The lifeless body of Goliath then fell forward into the dirt. Yamin stood up and flexed his huge arms in a double bicep pose as the crowd cheered at his victory. Axus shouted, "The contest is over and the Yamin has won. The Queen wins the Gordian Challenge!" Arellus had the look of shock and fright on his face. The Queen turned to him and said mockingly. "I am so sorry but it looks like you have lost. Now guards please take Arellus to the dungeon where he can join Goliath's other friends. Oh, did I forget to mention? As we speak, your rebel friends are being rounded up this very moment outside the arena in case you were thinking they might rescue you." Hero of Mordac Part V Enter Mordac Hanging from his chains in his dungeon cell, Estus could hear the roars of the Queen's spectators. He knew the more they roared, that Goliath was in trouble. "Would Goliath still be strong enough to defeat Yamin?" he worried. "How could he help him?" He closed his eyes and prayed to Lord Mordac. While he was praying, a small, glowing blue orb of clouds appeared in front of him. "Estus," said the orb, "I, Lord Mordac, have heard you." Estus raised his head and opened his eyes as best he could. "Goliath has broken his vow and has been defeated by Yamin in the arena. The Queen has won the Gordian Challenge," said the deep and strong voice from the orb. Estus's head and heart sank but the news was not unexpected to him. Just then the door to his cell unlocked and Axus entered closing the door behind him. He looked up and saw Estus looking at the orb. Axus drew his sword and raised it to slice the orb but what looked like a wave of clear power emanated from the orb and hit Axus in the chest, throwing him against the door, closing it and stunning him. He slid down the door onto his ass. "But all hope is not lost for the people of Gloth, Estus," the orb continued, "Will you take up Goliath's fight and with it, the risk of your death?" Estus was surprised. He was no hero. He loved Goliath, worshipped him and served him tirelessly knowing his love would never be returned. But become a hero? How could he? Meanwhile, Axus began to regain consciousness. "How could I, Lord Mordac? I am not even a solider and look at me. I can barely see or stand." Axus stared at the two in awe and fright. "Do not doubt my power!" said the god sternly. "For I will heal your wounds and pass the power of Goliath onto you if you will take the vow freely and so long as you abide by it." Confused, tired and in pain, Estus tried to think. A thousand thoughts and feelings raced through his mind. That strength! That physique! That sacrifice. Maybe for a short while. Just to avenge Goliath and to help here. But what of Yamin? "You will need to use all your willpower to succeed in this task and you must focus on the Queen and her death. Your strength will be greater than Yamin's!" assured the orb. Estus said, "Yes, I accept and take the vow." Part VI The Test and the Choice The orb began to spin faster and a green beam shot out of it hitting Estus in the chest. The beam then spread over the skin of his entire body making him glow. Feelings of solitude and serenity filled his mind as he still hung from the chains. He felt as if he were floating. His heart beat slowed; he was relaxed and calm. His wounds began to heal. The swelling of his face deflated. His bleeding cuts scabbed and then cleared. His whip burns melted away. His body was restored to its youthful, athletic, and healthy appearance. Then the color of the beam changed to red. Estus began to feel warm, then hot like he had a fever. He began to sweat. Suddenly he felt sharp pains in his bones all over his body. He screamed loudly but no sound left the red glow that surrounded him. His bones began to expand. His modest frame size grew. His wrists, which used to be 8 inches (20.3 cm) around, grew to 9.5 inches (24 cm). His legs and shoulders too. His entire frame was being enlarged and his skin and muscles began to stretch to fill it. He was now 6 ft 1 tall (183 cm). When his bones stopped growing, his muscles began to thicken. His pecs grew full and deep, so heavy that his quarter-sized nipples pointed down to the floor as they hung from his now huge chest. His quads grew to 25 inches (65 cm), his biceps to 19.5 inches (49.5 cm). His forearms, delts, neck, back muscles, and calves followed suit. Axus now fearing for his life upon seeing the growing muscle god before him, rose from the floor and ran out of the cell, locking the cell door behind him and knocking over a flaming urn in the hallway in his haste. Smoke from the now fallen urn began to fill the hallways of the dungeon and the remaining guards, fearing a fire had erupted, fled as they saw Axus in panic. Axus, who was always fiercely loyal to only Yamin, ran to warn him. Panting and out of breath, Axus came upon Yamin and the Queen in her sitting room and told them all he had seen. The Queen said to Yamin, "Mordac must be a fool. I will just seduce Estus as I did Goliath." "It may not be that easy," answered Yamin who was becoming lost in thought. "Estus may have more willpower than Goliath," Axus said to them. "Yamin, you must trick Estus into coming to my chambers and I will handle it from there," said the Queen as she reached for the Venusian girdle in her drawer. Almost not hearing her, Yamin said "Yes, I have a plan." Estus breathed heavily from the pain and the stress causing his six pack abs to contract and expand quickly. His skin again stretched further accommodating his new mass for he was now 215 lbs (97.7 kg) of muscle with 7% bodyfat. The pain began to subside as did the heat. The red glow began to recede back into the orb. The flickering flames from the torches on the wall of his cell danced on Estus's new sweaty musculature. He felt relaxed now that the pain had ended and surprisingly energetic given his ordeal. "It is done now," said Mordac. "Now go Estus and heed my advice." The orb then faded away. Estus, still hanging from the chains, looked down at his new massive physique. He went to put his right hand on his chest and, without realizing it, yanked the ceiling chain. It broke off at his wrist. Realizing what had happened, he then pulled down his left hand, easily snapping the other chain and leaving him with two black iron collars around each of his large wrists. He brought his hands to his hard pecs, feeling his sternum cleavage. Then he brought them down to his rock six pack abs feeling each one as they rose and fell in his torso. He flexed his now 19.5 inch (49.5 cm) biceps admiring their size, vascularity and leanness. He extended his leg and pointed his foot, tightening his quads and watched his large intermedius and medialis dance before him. What beauty, he thought, what manly perfection, what power. He wanted to test it. He walked over to the door of his cell and grabbing the bars, with a hard pull, the door came off its iron hinges. Holding it, he stared at it almost not believing what his new strength had done. Now, he thought, he was ready to find the Queen as Lord Mordac had commanded him. He stepped into the smoky hallway. As he looked down the hall toward a hazy light, he could see someone walking down stone stairs towards him. As the figure came closer, he saw its large muscular frame. Given the person's size, he first thought it was Goliath as it strode with that bodybuilder's gait. But he noticed the waist was smaller than Goliath's and the height slightly shorter. He realized it could only be Yamin. He stared again at the physique. Yamin looked even more handsome than he remembered him in the Queen's throne room. That small waist, those broad shoulders, bubbled delts, powerful pecs and biceps and olive skin. Estus's heart began to pound. As the muscular being came in sight through the smoky haze, Estus slowly walked backwards into his cell, planning to confront the queen's champion there. As Yamin walked down the hall toward Estus, he first spotted the outline of a very powerful man. At first Yamin could still not believe it was Estus but it could be no one else based on Axus's description. This above average athletic man was suddenly as muscular and large as Goliath had been. Yamin marveled at the power Mordac must have. "But was that strength really greater than his own?" he wondered. He wanted to test it and find out yet he was afraid. He wondered if that power could be drained from Estus, why could he not make it flow into him instead? Yamin stepped into Estus's cell. Estus raised his forearms like a wrestler. Consciously keeping his hands at his sides, Yamin spoke. "Estus, listen to me. I come here not to fight you ...." "Better for you!" snapped Estus interrupting Yamin. "For the power of Mordac is in me and I will defeat you and your Queen." Estus reached down to the floor and picked up one of iron pokers that was used to torture him. With his two hands, he bent it into a U and threw it at Yamin's feet. Yamin stared at Estus thinking of the display of strength he just saw. Estus stared back into Yamin's blue eyes. He became distracted and scanned Yamin's body noticing every muscle, its size and shape. He blinked back into focus. "I have come here to ask for you help. Together we can defeat the Queen and her soldiers if we join forces. I will help you kill her," said Yamin. "Ha!" laughed Estus. "Do you think me a fool?" Looking down, Yamin answered, "No Estus. You are no fool. I never wanted to fight Goliath but I had no choice. I have seen the Queen's cruelty for many years now and I have had enough. Now is my chance to make amends. Our chance to do it together." He lifted his head and looked at Estus sincerely. "You are different. I noticed you when you first walked into the throne room before I even noticed Goliath. I saw the love in your eyes when you looked at him. A love we all now know could never be answered due to Mordac. I admired it and was jealous of it." Estus could not believe what he was hearing. He could smell Yamin's testosterone. There was a powerfulness to him that attracted him. He felt it in the throne room and he felt it now, much stronger. Yamin was beautiful. Estus's heart beat even faster and he became aroused. He wanted to touch Yamin, to feel his rock-hard muscles. He felt a pull toward him. Estus cleared his mind of these thoughts and shouted "Enough lies!" as he swung his fist at Yamin knocking the muscle god to the ground. On the ground Yamin shook his head and quickly came back into consciousness. Never had he felt a punch like that before. He realized he had met more than his match. Estus was surprised at what he had done. He looked at his fist almost not believing its power as he let Yamin rise to his feet. Yamin faced the young muscle god and like two wrestlers they circled each other. "I won't fight you, Estus," Yamin said. "I can't?.." Estus began to doubt his convictions. He began to think that perhaps Yamin has changed He began to want to believe him. He was so handsome. Yet Estus leapt forward toward the titan. Yamin was surprised but with a quick move he raised his hands to meet Estus's and their fingers were laced in a test of strength. Estus pressed hard. His arm muscles ballooned. Yamin met the force with an equal amount. Estus pressed harder and Yamin again matched him. Yamin's veins popped up wildly across his arms and chest. Again Estus pressed pulling up his reserves of power and strength. Their faces were close and each gritted his teeth. Slowly Yamin's hands began to bend backward as Estus's strength began to show its superior power. Yamin did not know what to do. His strength for the first time in his life was being overpowered by another. He was no longer the greatest power. Their eyes met as they struggled. Estus again could not help but notice Yamin's powerful deep blue eyes. He also found his overpowering of the muscular champion strangely erotic. Now he was the muscle god he thought worthy of another's attention just as he had worshipped Goliath. Estus became even more aroused. Yamin brought his face closer to Estus and place his lips on Estus's. Estus could not believe the feeling inside him. How he longed for the touch and feel of Goliath. Now here he was with a muscle god as handsome if not more so. Could this be true? Could his dreams finally be answered? But what of his vow? Estus was now fully erect. Yamin had said he would help him end the Queen's rule. Estus slowly released the pressure on Yamin's hands and each titan wrapped their arms around the other and continued their embrace. Yamin released one arm and brought it down between them and began to stroke Estus in his groin. Slowly the giants lowered themselves to the floor and Yamin removed Estus belt and loincloth and continued his stroking. Estus placed his hands on Yamin's pecs and felt their hardness. Yamin said, "You are so beautiful, Estus" and before Estus could stop him, Yamin moved his mouth down to Estus’s member for he wanted Estus to break his vow and for Mordac's power to flow out of Estus. With that touch, Estus lost all his resistance and his mind exploded in sexual sensation. And flow it did and Estus succumbed to his never fulfilled dreams of love with a muscle god. With each thrust, Yamin swallowed more and more, hoping he could absorb the greater strength that had bested him. When it was over, the two muscle gods embraced again and kissed. Yamin stood up and helped Estus up and whispered to the young man. "One more, my love before we end the Queen's rule." Estus placed his lips on Yamin's wrapping his arms around his dream. Yamin brought his ripped arms around Estus's lower back. They hugged. Yamin however continued to squeeze. Estus cried in pain. Yamin squeezed the once powerful giant once more even harder. Estus began to pound his fists into Yamin's chest and front delts. But the blows simply bounced off the champion's large muscles for the power of Mordac had left Estus and his strength was no longer any match for Yamin's. Then Estus fainted and grew limp as Yamin's powerful arms crushed Estus's back. Yamin placed the unconscious former muscle god down on the floor of the cell. His plan had worked and taking his fingers to his hips, he pulled down and the once invisible Venusian girdle reappeared and Yamin took it off and threw it next to the now paralyzed body of Estus. As he starred pathetically at Estus, suddenly Yamin noticed a red glow around his hands. The glow grew along his arms and soon covered his whole body. He began to feel warm and as he looked at himself his large muscles began to grow even larger. He became larger than any pump he had ever had and larger than even Goliath. He reached up to the ceiling with his arms admiring their beauty. "Yes!" he thought. He had found the secret and it had worked. He had swallowed Mordac's power and his muscles were now incorporating it into his own! He flexed his bicep and it grew to 22 inches (56 cm), hard, lean and peaked. He needed to test his strength to be sure and in the corner of the cell was an iron torture rack that weighed over 1000 lbs. (450 kg ). He tried to lift it. At first he struggled but then he raised it two inches, then six, then a foot off the ground! Yes, power was now his! He felt exhilarated. Then the blue orb of clouds materialized before him. "Yamin," said the orb. "You have proven yourself to be a remarkable opponent." Yamin starred in awe of Lord Mordac. "Your superior mind, cunning and perception allowed you to overcome my two stronger champions but now it is time for you to choose." "I need nothing from you, Mordac," shouted Yamin. "I have taken your power from Estus and now it is mine to do as I wish," pounding his fist on his chest in defiance. "Foolish mortal" said Mordac calmly. "You thought your act with Estus gave you his power? No, my Yamin. I willed it so. I wanted you to feel the strength and size that you have craved for so long. The effects are only temporary. Even as we speak the gift is leaving you. Look at your arm." Yamin looked at his right arm and flexed it so that his giant biceps reappeared again. He noticed just as Mordac had spoken it was slightly smaller that just a few minutes ago. "But now you must choose Yamin whether to become my servant or not. To keep the gift that I have given you, you must take the vow and do my bidding for the rest of your life. And your first task will be to kill the Queen and bring Arellus to power." Yamin climbed the stairs out of the dungeon and the soldiers cheered him. He was tired. He conferred with Axus outside the Queen's chambers. Axus patted him on his shoulder as Yamin entered the Queen's private room. The Queen, having already heard the news of his defeat of Estus, approached him with a loving embrace and they kissed. While they embraced Yamin brought his large boned hands up and placed them around the Queen's neck. She tried to pull away and scream but the muscle god quickly tightened his grip and crushed the Queen's neck. He laid the dead Queen down on the floor. He turned to Axus whom he had briefed before he entered the room. "Go Axus, release Arellus from the dungeon for he, as the former head of the Senate, is now the new King of Gloth. The people of Gloth will now be free. Then pack your things for we have other tasks to perform for Lord Mordac." End
  2. BarbellWriter

    Maciste and the Muscle Demon

    Here’s an old story I pulled from the archives and recently updated I am working on a few ones. Happy to get comments back here or in PMs especially if you want to see more. I write about superheroes, peplum, magic, muscle growth & theft, & superhero fights & destruction. Btw I noticed the apostrophes and quotes changed to another character in the paste I’ll try to fix that next time. Maciste and the Muscle Demon Maciste after much effort disposed of the muscular warriors who were guarding the path to the cave that was the home to the demon. These guards would have been more than a match for any attacking force. Even the powerful Maciste had to struggle against them. They were men from the village who had been transformed into the demonÕs worshippers. Maciste did not harm the men, only knocked them unconscious. The women of the village had called Maciste to save their men from the demon. Several months ago the village miners had unearthed an ancient tomb deep inside the mountain. But it wasnÕt really a tomb. It was a jail for a demon whom the Ancients had encapsulated in stone there when the human race was young. Once released from his confinement, the demon slowly enslaved the men the village. The men abandoned their village, wives and their children, only to serve the sexual desires of the demon. The women had called upon Maciste to come and rescue their men from the enchantment. With the help of an old wizard, Maciste had obtained a magical, silver dagger with which he could kill the demon and vanquish him from the dimension of earth. As he reached the cave, he saw something in the brush next to the entrance. He paused to look. There was the body of a young man, but it was merely skin and bones on a body as if it had been starved of food. His eyes were still open and his hallowed cheeks and mouth frozen open as if he were still screaming. Maciste put his hands over the young manÕs eyes and closed them. ÒDonÕt worry, son, I will avenge you,Ó he said to the body and he entered the cave. Maciste walked slowly and surreptitiously through the cave hugging the stonewall looking for additional guards. At the end of the passageway, he came to the entry of a large hollowed room. There at the far end were torches on either side of a stone throne. In it sat the demon . ÒI know you are there, Maciste. Welcome,Ó he said. ÒCome closer so we can get a good look at each other. His hiding exposed, Maciste walked closer to the demon and came within 20 feet of him. He stared at the demon. The demon had the body of a tall, lean muscular man with broad shoulders and long dark wavy hair that reached his shoulders. His skin was light brown and he wore nothing but a small loincloth that barely covered his large member. ÒYou stare, Maciste. Do you like this human form that I have chosen? It suits my needs. But you are quite an impressive specimen of manhood yourself, Ó said the demon as he admired MacisteÕs larger and leaner muscular physique. The demon was hungry. “Enough of this,Ó Maciste shouted. ÒRelease these men of the village now from your spells, and I will not harm you!” The demon laughed at the demand. ÒI am sure you are quite formidable. But you are going to meet a challenger whom I think you will find most extraordinary. His name is Sarkus.Ó From the shadows off to the side of the stone throne, a blonde, bronzed man stepped into the torchlight. MacisteÕs eyes turned to the foe. He was the same height and build as Maciste, about 6’ 2” with broad bulbous shoulders that tapered to a 32- inch waist and etched abs. But he had about 20 pounds of more muscle than Maciste had on the same frame. Sarkus smiled confidently at Maciste and slowly raised his right arm and flexed. SarkusÕs right bicep rose and rose and rose. His arm peaked at 22 inches, almost two inches bigger than the village womenÕs hero. “Yes, you see Maciste. Sarkus was the strongest and largest warrior in this village until he joined me. And with the gifts I have bestowed on him, he is now the strongest man in the world! Oh, IÕm sorry. DidnÕt that used to be your title?Ó snickered the demon. ÒI have defeated larger opponents in the past,Ó Maciste answered confidently. ÒSarkus will be no different.” “Well then, Sarkus, why donÕt you dethrone Maciste from his title officially?” Sarkus strode toward the hero. Maciste pulled the magic dagger from its sheath in his belt and lunged toward his larger twin. He planned to push Sarkus aside and head toward to the demon himself. But Sarkus was fast for his size and he quickly stopped MacisteÕs advance. He grabbed MacisteÕs left arm that held dagger and then his right. The two muscle giants were locked hand to hand in a contest of pure strength. As each one pressed upon the other and seemed to gain an inch, his opponent pushed back and recovered the lost ground. The struggle went on and on. Sarkus focused his right grip, which was his stronger side, on MacisteÕs left wrist. His hand pressed like a vise attempting to force Maciste to drop the dagger. Maciste resisted but his wrist contained little direct muscular power to resist the powerful vise. Eventually his wrist gave way and the dagger fell from his hand whereupon Sarkus kicked it toward the edge of the darkness of the chamber. With the dropping of the weapon, Maciste was freer to force back SarkusÕs hand and once again the titans were locked in what seemed like an unending test of strength. “Surprised, Maciste?” taunted the demon. “Never felt this kind of power before, have you? I knew when I made SarkusÕs muscles larger, they would with my help become more powerful than yours!” Yes, Maciste was surprised. No man, no matter how large, had been able to match Maciste in power for this long. A small seed of doubt began to grow in MacisteÕs mind, and where there is doubt, there is weakness. In a battle of near equals, doubt can make a difference. As doubt began to swirl in MacisteÕs mind, the endurance of his powerful muscles began to weaken. As Sarkus pushed, Maciste could no longer recover the lost ground. Sarkus noticed this; his confidence grew and with confidence comes more strength into the body. That confidence made Sarkus push even harder than he ever had before, further weakening Maciste and pushing him back further and down. Maciste looked into the burning brown eyes of this opponent who was slowly overpowering him. Then in those eyes he saw the face of SarkusÕs wife calling Maciste to help her. “Sarkus, think of your wife and children,” Maciste said. Sarkus almost seemed to pause. That gave Maciste an opportunity. Using the force that Sarkus was himself applying, Maciste added his own and pulled both himself and Sarkus backwards. As MacisteÕs back hit the floor, he lifted his feet onto the washboard abdomen of his foe and propelled him backward with such a force that Sarkus was body slammed against the cavityÕs stonewall. His foe fell to the floor unconscious. Maciste leaped to his feet and faced the demon who rose from his chair and slowly approached him, clapping. Maciste needed to stall. He needed to find the dagger on the cave floor. His eyes scanned for it while trying to be watchful of the demon. “Very good, Maciste. You have lived up to your reputation.” The demon and the hero circled each other as they spoke. Unknown to Maciste, the demonÕ s breath contained a chemical that acted like a narcotic that weakened a humanÕs will. As he scanned for the dagger, Maciste decided to engage the demon. “Now release these men before itÕs too late,” Maciste threatened. Again the demon laughed. “Did you know, Maciste, that each one of these men joined me willingly? Yes, each one wanted to be manlier and more powerful, for their women, for their place in their village, for their work. So I gave them the strength and the physiques they dreamed about. As each one saw what I had given them, more came to me asking for the same thing! Their own lack of self worth turned them to me.” ”But you enchanted them. They rejected their wives, and left their families to become your slave.” Maciste ‘s tone was no longer angry like previously. He seemed to become calm as the demonÕs breath began to take effect on him. Then he spotted a flicker of light off the silver dagger on the floor. The two continued to circle each other as they talked but Maciste stopped when he reached the spot where he saw the flicker. “Ha! How little you know! These men asked for the physical gifts I gave them. In exchange, I asked for their love. They experienced an ecstasy with me that their wives could never provide them. Once they tasted my pleasure, no women could satisfy them again. From their love, I grew even more powerful.” ”You care nothing of these men, their village or their families,” Maciste said with conviction. His heart rate was slowing. “In fact, I care for and know them quiet well,” answered the demon. “I even know you, Maciste, better than you do. I know your character. Yes, you are good and true but I know what moves you?” “You know nothing about me.” Maciste began to feel lightheaded. His heart was no longer racing. He began to think about his timing. He needed to step back and reach for the dagger and plunge it into the demon but he needed to lull the demon into thinking he was not a threat. The demonÕs breath though was distracting his concentration. “Oh but I do. You see, your conviction, your courage, your confidence, your goodness, your steadfastness comes not from your inner nature. It comes from your strength, your looks and your body. Without them, your nature is just as weak as everyone elseÕs. I can enhance that body for you” Maciste stepped back and his left foot stepped on the blade of the dagger. He was not ready though. His mind was cloudy and relaxed and he listened to the demon further. “Let me show you. Curl your right arm for me and show me that beautiful manliness of your arm.” Now was the time for Maciste to reach for the dagger but he was confused and susceptible. He secretly enjoyed showing off his physique to the women he slept with and he wanted to show it off now. He did as the demon suggested and raise his arm showing off his 20 inch peaked tan bicep. “Yes, look at it Maciste.”Maciste stared at it. “Oh , it is so beautiful,” said the demon. “Now squeeze it a little harder and watch it!” As Maciste flexed more, he watched his bicep began to grow larger and larger till it was 23 inches. MacisteÕs eyes opened wide. “Yes, I have made it even more beautiful. Now kiss it.” Maciste continued to stare at his right gun and the veins and striations that ran across it. Never had it been that pumped. The demon gently touched the back of MacisteÕs head, pushing his face toward his bicep until MacisteÕs lips reached it and then hesitantly kissed it. “Yes, itÕs beautiful, isnÕt it?” the demon repeated. “Join me, Maciste, love me, and that bicep will be yours forever.” Maciste pondered those words as he continued to stare at his incredible masculine arm. Then from the place where Sarkus was lying, came a moan as Sarkus began to wake up, pressing himself off the floor with his inverted V triceps. Maciste turned his head toward Sarkus. That distraction was enough to break the mesmerizing moment for Maciste. He pushed the demon back and shouted “No. Never!” The demon was surprised but not alarmed. He stepped further back from his prey. “So Maciste. You have chosen. But as I said, who you are comes from that physique of yours. Without it, you are no hero, no moral guardian. You are no better nor more valorous than others, may be even weaker than most.” Maciste stood watching the demon as he spoke. His mind was so dazed, he did not know what to do though the dagger lay at his feet. “Where shall we start? LetÕs start with those arms of yours. Every man notices first another manÕs arm muscles. What if those arms suddenly shrunk and turned to flab?Ó Maciste looked at his right arm. Gone were the leanness, the veins, the bulbous delts, the defined biceps and triceps. Replaced with a mound of flab, straight and smooth and hanging off his arm. “No,” shouted Maciste. By now, Sarkus was standing behind the demon watching MacisteÕs transformation. “And how about those powerful legs of yours that propelled my Sarkus?” As the demon spoke, MacisteÕs defined muscular quads and calves muscles shrunk to bone and flab. “My legs!” He shouted as the demon laughed. ”Let’s turn that six pack into a bowl of jelly.” Our hero’s incredible abdominal armor flattened and disappeared into a small belly of fat. ”No, stop!” He reached and touched his now soft, cushiony stomach. ”And of course, those rounded striated pecs of yours.” His impressive domed pecs deflated and drooped. His once taunt nipples puffed out. His chest looked like old man bitch tits in need of a bra. “No, my chest! My power! My strength! What have you done to me! Give it back to me! Give it back!” he shouted. Maciste fell to his knees and he placed his hands on his now hanging man boobs. Whereas before he had felt his strong hard pec muscles, now he felt only softness like a womanÕs breast. That feeling was too much for him. “So Maciste, where is that confidence? Where is that goodness of yours? Where is that bravery?” The demon laughed. Sarkus smiled. Maciste then felt the dagger at his ankle. He reached down and grabbed it. He quickly jumped up and pointed the dagger at the demon, staring him in the eyes. “Stop, Maciste. If you strike me with that dagger, your present form will become permanent. You will never become the man you were.” Suddenly Maciste froze. Could the demonÕs words be true? Could he kill the demon but be trapped without his strength, power and physique? He had to kill him. He had to save the others. He must do it. He looked down at his fatty chest and his bulging belly. Maciste let go of the knife and it fell to the floor with a clang. He dropped his head to his chest and whispered, I will do what you want so long as you change me back.” The demon laughed. He picked up the dagger and handed it to Sarkus and said, “Destroy it..” Sarkus took the dagger into his hands and began to bend it, breaking it in two. The demon walked around Maciste as he spoke to him. “So our hero wasnÕt really the hero was he? Yes, it was easy before, wasnÕt it, Maciste? You were stronger than everyone, you were more powerful than everyone, you were handsome, you had that physique of yours that every man was jealous of and every woman loved. It was easy to be brave! It was easy to be righteous! It was easy to sacrifice and do the right thing! Because you never had to sacrifice, did you? But now with all that gone, itÕs hard, isnÕt it? In fact, for you, it was too hard. You couldnÕt do it without your power, your strength, your beauty. You were in fact all this time, weak inside. Weak where it counted. Not so wonderful and godlike as everyone thought!” Maciste head was bowed. His wide but now smoothed shoulders slumped forward. He realized all the demon said was true. It was easy for him to be good when he was so powerful. He could never fail. Tears began to well in his eyes. “I’ve agreed to do as you wish, now change me back,” whispered the broken former muscleman. “Give me back my strength,” he hesitated, “please..” ”Go into that room over there and sit on the floor,” said the demon pointing at an opening at the far end of the chamber. “Wait for me there!” he ordered. Two other muscular henchmen escorted Maciste out the large chamber. The demon turned toward the room and Sarkus grabbed his sinewy arm. “ Master,” he said, “please give him to me. Let me have him.” “No,” he replied, grabbing SarkusÕs arm and quickly removing it from his. “His power and strength are enormous. Unlike any I have felt before. I must have it for myself. I do not have much time. I found a weakness in his mind and my little transformation trick will not last long. I must move quickly before he realizes he lost his size but not his great strength.” Maciste entered the room and sat down on the black bear skin rug that covered the stone floor. As he sat, he looked down at his chest. There hung two sacks of fat looking like udders where his massive tight rounded pecs once were. He began to weep. He thought as soon as his strength was restored, he would crush the demonÕs head with it. But he needed to cooperate with the demon for his plan to work. The demon entered the small room alone and stood in front of the weeping Maciste.”So Maciste, do you miss your power? Do you miss your muscles?” “Yes, “ the once confident hero whimpered. “I want them back. I need them. What do you want from me?” ”If I give them back, will you promise to keave this area and never come back?” ”Yes, I will do as you wish,” said the defeated hero. “ I will restore them then But during the spell you must give yourself utterly to me. With all your will and with all your heart. ” I donÕt know if I can,” he said. “You must if you want the magic to change you back. Or do you prefer a chest like this?” And the demon took his hands and lifted each sagging pecs of Maciste and let them fall back onto the warriorÕs chest. Maciste wiped the tears from his face. He knew he had no choice. “.I'll try as you wish.” And his chin sunk lower onto this chest, hoping his moment for revenge would come soon. ”First, you must drink.” The demon knelt in front of the hero and began to massage his own powerful left pec. Maciste raised his head and watched. As the demon pressed into the pec, the pec began to swell. It quickly became bloated and the nipple, once tight, was now puffy. The demon lifted the tumescent chest muscle with his left hand, leaned toward Maciste and with his right hand behind the heroÕs head brought MacisteÕs mouth to the demonÕs nipple and said, “Now drink this milk from me.” Reluctantly, Maciste began to suck as commanded. The milk was both sweet and sour, neither foul nor refreshing. The demonÕs head and eyes looked toward the ceiling as he enjoyed the heroÕs mouth on his areola. Maciste drank until the pec was no longer inflated and had returned to its original shape. ”Now onto your hands and knees, Maciste,”ordered the demon. The warrior complied. Maciste looked down and saw his pecs hanging off his chest with his nipples pointing to the rug like small udders. His pecs no longer grew like cliffs from his sternum. More tears flowed into his eyes. “I must do this,” he angrily said to himself. “I must get my body back and then I will take care of this demon.” Though he was angry, he began to feel a sense of calm, not realizing the DemonÕs pec milk was having a soothing effect on him. The demon ripped MacisteÕs loincloth from him and the warrior was now totally naked. The demon knelt beside MacisteÕs torso and rubbed his hands together. As he rubbed, his pores began to open up and secreted a special whitish oil. The demon began to massage the oil into the warriorÕs smooth back and shoulders. As the demon rubbed, the warriorÕs delts, lats, traps and rhomboids began to grow and reappear. The oil and the rubbing created a warming sensation in Maciste. As the demon rubbed, the warming sensation had a further soothing effect on the warrior. His mind began to feel at ease and adrift either from the warmth or the demon milk or both. Maciste did not know which, but more important, he did not care. He tried to stay angry but began to yearn for the stress relief it provided. That comfort gradually led to feelings of pleasure. He began to enjoy the massage the demon was giving him. The demon extended the massage to the heroÕs sagging glutes. The fattiness of his glutes began to melt away and was replaced with hard firming muscle. He could feel his back and glute muscles growing and tightening. “Yes,” he said to himself, “ My power will be back soon, and I will slay this devil.” Soon his buttocks were muscular and round like they were before. Maciste knew his strength must be returning. These feelings of warmth, pleasure and strength began to spread down his legs and to his arms and chest from his back and butt. More skin and fat retreated across his body, and he could see his chest filling again with muscle. A battle of anger against the demon and the pleasurable feelings battled in his mind and his thoughts flowed back and forth between the two. “How are you feeling, Maciste. Do you want more muscle back?”asked the demon. “Yes,yes” he said, “more.” The demon began to massage the warriorÕs legs and arms and to work the palm secretions into the warriorÕs butt hole. This was a sensation the strongman had never felt before for no man had entered there. A corner of his mind resisted but other parts said no, he must allow it to regain his strength and get his revenge. By now, MacisteÕs mind was entering a daze. All he felt was pleasure. His anger faded even more into a mental whisper. He could see and feel his muscles returning. He lifted his hand off the floor to touch his right pec to feel the hardness and his pec cliffs returning. He thought it was almost time to turn on the demon, but the pleasure was so overwhelming and calming. He paused and thought he must wait till he knew his strength was fully restored. Besides surely the pleasure would subside by then. His member began to swell. “Now, Maciste, it is time to complete your transformation back,” smiled the demon. The demon removed his own loincloth to reveal an organ unlike any human maleÕs. It was long, covered with large pores with smooth but hard edges that encircled the shaft. The demon began to rub it and it swelled to over 12 inches quickly. A black gel began to ooze from the pores on the head and sides once it stiffened. The demon inserted his organ into the dazed strongman. Maciste winced and cried, “Agggh” for nothing had entered butt hole before. There was pain but the gel though smoothed that away. As the demon began to pump the strongman , the secretions eased the rubbing and surged into MacisteÕs body. Volumes and volumes were released with each breeding thrust so much so that Maciste muscled belly began to distend like a time lapsed pregnancy. The black ooze travelled everywhere, to every muscle and to his brain. With each thrust, the demonÕs member vibrated, flooding new sensations into the warriorÕs mind. MacisteÕs member quickly engorged and grew stiff. “Now say it, Maciste, say ‘I am yours, master,’” said the demon. “Agree to give yourself to me.” Even with the pleasure overflowing his mind, Maciste hesitated. The hero though then looked at his arms and as the demon pumped. He admired his muscular beauty. His muscle and vascularity had returned. His member was now taller and tighter than it had ever been. A small voice in his head said he must turn and attack now. “Now say it, Maciste. Say ‘I am yours, master,’” ordered the demon as the pounding sent waves of euphoria through MacisteÕs brain and further filling the heroÕs enlarged belly with more magical ooze. “I, I” Maciste repeated, but his mind was full of conflicting voices and still resisted. The secretions from the demon were transforming not only his body but his mind as well. His anger was gone and his warriorÕs will was weakening. “Now say it. Feel the hardness of your muscles, Maciste. You know you want them. Say you are mine. Otherwise your strength will be lost forever and you will lose the physique that I have returned to you. SAY IT!” His anger growing with impatience. “This is taking too long,” thought the demon. As the thrusts continued, the highs and lows of the euphoria leveled out. Maciste entered a dream state of bliss. He hardly noticed the thrusting anymore and could barely hear the demonÕs voice which sounded faint and muffled in the new state his mind was in. He lifted his left arm and moved his hand across his chest crevice resting it on his right pec. He looked down at it. It felt hard and it showed striations as he flexed it. Touching his hard muscle magnified the pleasure feelings even more. His finger grazed his right nipple and a spike of orgasm flooded his brain. His member began to ache for release. “Do you want your muscles or not?” shouted the demon as he pressed faster and harder into the restored muscleman. “SAY it!” the demon shouted again. Maciste looked again at his restored chest keeping his hand pressing against his hard muscle. Inside his brain, a faint voice called to what remained of his willpower, “Turn now and strike him” a faint voice whispered in his head. As he began to turn his torso and arm toward the demon, his voice whispered “I am yours, master.” Maciste then climaxed with such force that he was close to fainting. His seed shot copiously onto the rug. “Yes!” shouted the demon as he looked toward the caveÕs ceiling in victory. “Give me your power!” he called out hitting his fists on his chest as he continued to breed the muscleman whose belly was so distended full of the demon’s black cum. The demon then climaxed. The spell was now complete. Just then MacisteÕs body began to shutter. Every muscle that had been restored quivered. The body of the demon also began to quiver. Then it was if a vacuum had started inside the warriorÕs body. His muscles began to shrink and shrink. Meanwhile the demonÕs physique began to grow and grow. Larger and ever more muscular, and the demon shouted “Yes, yes, give me all of it!” As the demon withdrew from the hero. MacisteÕs body collapsed face forward onto the floor. There lay a tall, broad shouldered man of only skin and bones like the desiccated male body the hero had found outside the caveÕs entrance. All his muscle stripped from him. The demon raised his arms in a double bicep pose and stared at them. They were larger than ever before! Larger than any man had ever seen. Full of strength and might. Now the power of Maciste had become his.
  3. EclipseWing

    The Cleric's Infernal Husband

    The Cleric’s Infernal Husband ============================================ So, after a year of being sick on and off, I’m finally healthy enough to crank out a story. I hope you enjoy! This story is inspired by the webcomic “Mage and Demon Queen”. Please support the artist by reading it on Webtoon. ============================================ Agradath the Undefeated – Conqueror of the Seven Realms, Wielder of the Dragonheart Blade, the Infernal Emperor upon the Throne of the Damned – surveyed his empire from atop the highest tower of his keep. Half the mortal lands were now firmly in his grasp along all of the Underworld. Kingdoms fell before him, their petty walls weak as tissue. Only a handful of monarchs dared oppose him still, whilst the rest were already the puppets of his handpicked agents. And yet, all of this considered, he was bored. Incredibly so actually. The fun of it was just… gone. Most of the weaklings they called heroes and warriors couldn’t even breach the first gate of his stronghold. He was the most powerful being in the existence, but all the challenge was gone. Sure, he could always attempt to invade the heavenly realm next, but who wants a bunch of clouds? He growled and sat back on his throne of charred bones, stroking his goatee. The sulfuric embers on his arching ebony horns burned brightly like glittering emeralds and amethysts. In his frustration, he took a forgotten iron sword – a spoil of war – and began bending the blade over and over in his hands. Without even exerting himself, he soon turned the once broadsword into a glowing hot ball of iron. He snorted and tossed it in the corner of the room with a pile of other former weapons, reshaped by his hands. He looked at his own weapon, a mighty claymore of Damascan steel, a proper weapon christened by the bloody heart of a wyvern, thus the nickname. He could only frown as he looked at the mythic weapon; he could barely use it since the “Event”. The “Event” was what his seneschal called it, as calling it the “Undying” would send the demon lord into a rage. It began several weeks ago. These whelps of heroes realized it was better to team up in groups. Finally, they began getting into the stronghold proper, and when they were inevitably killed, they somehow came back to life back in the human capital. Agradath’s wisest mages named the phenomenon, “respawning”. For a time, this “respawning” made things interesting. Soon warriors were actually getting to Agradath’s door and for a time, life was fun gain. He had a challenge! It wore off too soon. The challengers were battle weary and would often be easy to defeat. Soon, they became a chore as to get them to stop. Agradath realized he had to break each one’s will individually until they gave up. Day in and day out he dealt with these invaders, but no one would last more than five minutes against him. He hardly ever broke a sweat. Worst of all, killing them didn’t even give him gory satisfaction; they just disappeared in a burst of light. To make any of it the least bit more entertaining, he kept a journal next to his throne. He tallied up whatever ludicrous speech the holier-than-thou warriors would give him. “Your reign of terror ends here.” The most common. 45,980. “My friends are my power!” Sickeningly naïve. As if demons couldn’t’ have friends. 8,235. “You twisted bastard!” 69. Nice. “I’m gonna marry you!” Ah yes, the good old- wait. What?! Agradath glowered at the newcomer. Surprisingly, this one was alone. Just some shrimpy young man in an ill-fitting white robe trimmed with gold that looked more like a sail on his slight frame. He held a gnarled wooden staff etched with runes that thrummed with holy magic. Clearly, he was some sort of cleric. A cleric! It nearly made the demon lord laugh. A healer, not a fighter, here alone before him! Yet, the whelp’s goofy grin that threw off the demon lord. “I… what did you just say?” “I-I-I said I’m going to marry you!” The cleric stammered. A low rumble started in his chest before erupting into a mirth of laughter. “You! Oh human, I thank you for the joke. But I don’t have room in my court for a jester. Enjoy your respawn.” With that, the cleric was dispatched with a simple fireball. ============================================ The next day, Agradath found himself still chuckling over the cleric’s words while reviewing his new decrees. That soon ended when the doors to the throne room flew open again. There, the cleric stood once more. “Hey, you didn’t even let me introduce myself!” Admittedly, this took the demon lord off guard. Most heroes took at least a couple days to train before attempting again. “Why would I care for the name of some weakling like you?” “I am not weak!” The cleric huffed. He took a deep breath. “My name is Ayden, and by the will of the Holy Ones, I shall defeat you by making you fall in love with me!” Agradath cocked an eyebrow. “Since when do the lazy gods give a shit about love?” The cleric had the decency to blush. “Well, maybe, I might have had the idea… and asked for their blessing.” Agradath smirked. “You are an interesting human at least but not interesting enough to keep around.” He threw a dagger threw the cleric and that was that. ============================================ The demon lord was standing before a mirror inspecting his body post-workout. He flexed his arms, grinning at how they swelled to the size of a man’s head. The door burst open again. “Who dares- ah. It’s you.” “I’m sorry!” The cleric blurted out, averting his eyes. He held out a small pink box. “I, um, brought a gift for you.” “Calm down, it’s not like I’m naked.” Agradath sighed and waved his hand. The box magically floated over to him. He opened it up and frowned. “Macarons?” “Cherry! My father is a baker, so I thought I’d try one of his recipes. The cherries in my village just came into season, and they’re so sweet. Maybe someday we can go pick some together.” Agradath was poleaxed. Never ever had anyone attempted to invite him to something as mundane as picking cherries. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped. The cleric seemed different. He couldn’t quite place it, but it seemed to be something with his tunic. It was the same one, but it looked off somehow. Not to mention, the blush on his cheeks and the way he looked so excited… it was cute. Well, maybe cute in the way a hellhound puppy was cute. Instead, he picked up his sword and hit the cleric over the head with the flat end. As the cleric disappeared in a burst of light, he turned back to the box. He gingerly picked one up between his claws and popped it in his mouth. It wasn’t terrible; the cleric was clearly a gifted cook. He ate another. Demon he may be, but he was also a lord and thus had to follow certain polite obligations. Besides, he couldn’t just let them go to waste. Maybe just one more. ============================================ The empty pastry box burned to ashes in the hearth as Agradath worked through some paperwork. After all, even evil overlords have to balance a national budget. He had just finished totaling the cost of his new weapons purchase when yet again the door opened. “Not now,” he growled. “Um, I can come back later if you want?” Agradath sighed, instantly recognizing the voice. He flung a lazy fireball at the cleric but was surprised when it came flying back. He stared in shock at his enemy, who seemed just as surprised his reflection spell worked. Agradath dismissed the fireball. Suddenly, the changes in the cleric became obvious. The tunic was a little shorter on him. The arm that held his staff was a little more toned, and a little more of his chest poked out. Even the cleric’s calves were a little more sculpted in his sandals, no doubt due to the long climb up the tower. What was his name? Ian? Arden? Ayden? Ayden. “You… you deflected it?” “I-I-I did.” The embers on his horns burned brighter than ever. “No human has ever deflected my fireballs.” An evil smile spread across his face as he leaped over the table. He lumbered straight for Ayden, heart racing in excitement. “You might just be interesting after all. Don’t disappoint me.” He drew his sword. “But I don’t want to fight?” “I SAID FIGHT ME!” A pitiful Banish spell bounced harmlessly off of the demon lord’s hairy chest. He growled in frustration and dispatched the cleric once again. ============================================ The days began to blend together, and Agradath found his patience wearing thin. “How the hell are you getting here earlier each day? I swear upon the fires of Hades, are my generals not even trying?!” Ayden shrugged. “I guess I’m just determined to see you, my lord.” Agradath rubbed his temples. Wait, did Ayden just say, “my lord”? A little zap of arousal shot down his body, but he hardened his resolve. “I am not your lord.” “Not yet, but I wouldn’t mind worshipping you.” The demon lord felt like he was smacked in the face. He fought to think of anything but twunkish cleric before him. “You… you what?” Ayden blushed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say that. It’s just that you’re really hot! I mean, I’m a religious man – obviously – but by the gods your body is divine. Not that I just like you for your body, but damn those pecs, those arms! They look like they’re sculpted by angels. Even your man – err – demonhood! I know you’re hiding it, but I know it’s huuuuge-” The embarrassed cleric babbled on and on, and all Agradath could do was sit on his throne agape. He had partners in the past who were really into his body, but this was something else. He then saw that the cleric’s tunic had grown very tight around one particular spot. Not only was Ayden clearly growing more muscular as he fought his way up the tower, but his cock must also have grown too! He looked like he was smuggling a banana in there with a couple tangerines. “Listen,” Agradath said, his voice hoarse. “Perhaps we should just pick this up tomorrow.” Ayden stopped. “You’re not going to kill me today?” “No,” he said, but paused. “I could teleport you back to the human realms?” “I’d appreciate that.” Agradath cast the spell, but internally wondered why he found himself merciful. Was he going soft? Well, there was one part that clearly was not. Agradath sat back on his throne with a huff. The gods might be giving Ayden some kind of power that made him stronger, but if they were going to do it, why not go big? Not to jack himself off, but he was the damned demon lord! Literally the biggest threat to the human realms! Were the gods so pitiful that they couldn’t muster up enough power to help him? The Infernal Emperor then had an idea. This cleric was the best challenge he’d had in a long time, even if the battle only lasted for under a minute. Well then, why send a god to do a demon’s job? Why couldn’t he cast a spell that would… augment the cleric just a bit? He could finally have the challenge he always wanted! And, if the cleric got a little too big for his tunic, he could always take his power back. He could have the perfect sparring mate; he just needed Ayden to grow a little bit bigger. Just a smidge. Okay, maybe a bit more than a smidge – hell knows the guy needed the help. Certainly, he would make sure to grow him just for that extra edge in battle and nothing else. “He’ll be perfect,” he muttered to himself, ignoring his stirring loins. He would do it tomorrow. ============================================ Agradath had barely finished his morning routine by the time he could hear footsteps running towards his throne room. The door burst open. “I’m sorry,” Ayden blushed, holding out a new box of macarons. “I said a lot of things yesterday, you probably think I’m terrible.” Okay, he wasn’t expecting that. The cleric continued. “I started gushing about your appearance – and yeah you’re definitely hot – but I probably sounded really shallow. There’s more that I like about you too. You’re ambitious and driven, even if it’s in a more destructive way than most would like,” he laughed quietly. “But I’ve heard stories of your kindness too. You always directed your armies to take care of any displaced families and you’ve made sure everyone has enough food. Your only punishments have been for the rulers of the kingdoms you’ve conquered, particularly those who ignored the needs of their people.” “How did you hear about such things?” Agradath said with a low growl. He had made sure his treatment of his conquered people was quiet, to keep the threatening aura he worked so hard for. He had laid waste to the kingdoms, but just as quickly made sure to take care of the conquered lands and people. They were now his after all, and he took care of his things. Ayden made a little motion upwards with a soft smile. “They are helping me out after all.” “So, your pathetic gods actually do help you,” the demon lord scoffed. He took the box with a slight nod of thanks and set it on a table. He then walked closer to Ayden, carefully inspecting him. “I will admit they must have helped with your… changes after all.” “You’ve noticed?” Ayden beamed, puffing out his chest a bit. It was impossible not to. His body was beautifully cut, a living statue. Through the folds in his tunic, more and more skin was being exposed. A tight mountain range of serratus and intercostals now rippled down his side, only accentuated by how much wider he was starting to get. His pecs mounded up, making a tent over his abs, which Agradath could only imagine. His tunic stretched over his thicker thighs, and his boots were stretched around his swollen calves. Yet, Agradath couldn’t pull his eyes away from his new arms. His triceps were like horseshoes and his biceps looked like grapefruits with a fat vein running up the side. Agradath gently took his chin in his hand and lifted his face to his own. “Yes… you’ve definitely grown, little human. You might be a challenge for me yet.” His eyes lingered on the cute human’s features, captivated by his lips, plump as ripe cherries and begging for a demon to chew on them. He couldn’t help but lick his own as he backed away. “I’ll make you a deal, Ayden,” he said, savoring how the cleric’s name rolled off his tongue. “If you are so interested in marrying me, then you’ll have to pass my test.” “Anything!” The demon lord’s horns blazed brighter than ever as he smirked. “Then, you will have to conquer me in battle. Do that, and I will concede defeat and become your bride.” “But I can’t do that! What if I hurt you? What if I,” he gulped, “kill you?” “Kill?! A human kill the Infernal Emperor?!” Agradath doubled over in laughter. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You only need to get me to admit defeat.” “Oh,” Ayden murmured, clutching his staff closely. The demon lord recomposed himself, crossing his arms and smiling inwardly as he saw his chance. “Of course, such a thing could be made easier if I were to… grant you a little extra power.” “I’ll take it.” “I know a holy man such as- pardon?” “I said I’ll take the power.” “You aren’t worried about corruption? Angering your gods?” Ayden stood tall. “Nothing corrupted could come from someone like you, my lord. I trust you.” Suddenly, Agradath felt his chest hurt. “If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it by now – arguably something worse than death I’d imagine.” Agradath had to admit he had forgotten about the more… extravagant tortures. “Then,” he swallowed hard, “Take a fraction of my power.” He waved his hand and a runic circle enveloped them both with bolts of black lightning travelling from his own chest into the cleric’s. It was over as soon as it began. Both took a moment to catch their breath. “Is… is something supposed to happen?” Ayden finally asked as he tentatively flex his arm. Agradath frowned. “I expected something a bit more immediate. Maybe it needs some time?” He sat back on his throne. “Perhaps tomorrow?” “Tomorrow sounds good,” Ayden said, still a little shaken. “Um, have a good night, my lord.” “Good night, Ayden.” With another wave of his hand, he teleported the cleric back home. A hunger was growing inside him, gnawing at him. It was one that Ayden’s treats alone would not sate. ============================================ “Sir, are you sure you’re alright?” The seneschal asked. “You seem tense today.” Agradath hunched over a table with a pile of weapons from the spoils of war. He inspected each carefully; any flaws in the metal were unacceptable. The best he carefully stacked next to him. “I don’t understand. I feel… anxious. I have never been anxious.” “Everyone feels anxiety, milord. It’s simply part of being… well, alive!” “It’s more than that. It’s anxiety, but also excitement?” Agradath groaned and turned to the seneschal. “You may speak freely.” The seneschal nodded and relaxed. “I have served you for many years now, and I can tell this is not your usual battle anxiety. This is about that young cleric, isn’t it?” “Perhaps,” Agradath muttered. He took some of the good daggers and began to fuse them together with fire magic and sheer strength. “He is attractive, if I was about fifty years younger…” He chuckled as Agradath shot him a murderous look. “I have to say his body does glow with divine energy. Almost as if the gods are making sure he grows strong enough. Strong enough for what is hard to say.” “This isn’t just some booty call!” Agradath slapped the table. “I mean… I do want to fuck him, but it’s different than that! His body is nice, but he’s quite skilled. His tenacity and dedication… it’s almost admirable.” “Much like how he admires your body and your actions. Has it occurred to you that this could be the start of something deeper?” He chuckled again as the demon lord huffed. “Think about it. Oh, and good luck with the gift.” “How the fuck?” Agradath turned back to the table and realized he had been melding the weapons together into the start of a light armored tunic. ============================================ Agradath paced in front of his throne. “Where is he? He’s late.” He looked up at the newly finished tunic. It was finely detailed, reinforced with plate armor made from the various daggers and swords he had mashed together. He purposely left it loose, just in case Ayden grew again. The door creaked open this time. “Um, hi?” “Where have you- by the fires of hell!” Agradath gulped. Out of instinct, he drew his sword, but lowered it in shock. Where once stood a twig of a man now was a beefy stud, a veritable muscle beast among men. He had grown to six and a half feet tall and absolutely loaded with muscle. Instead of a “V” taper, his shoulders had grown so wide it was now more of a “T”. His tunic was starting to rip at the seams. The front was held on by threads and was painted onto his torso. Agradath could easily see his nipples and his bricklike six pack. His arms were wrapped in a tight web of veins. His thighs were now as thick as his waist had been. His feet and calves were so thick he could no longer wear his boots. Agradath ate him up with his eyes but froze upon seeing the massive bulge between his legs. It looked nearly like a barbarian’s arm, soft! “I’m sorry,” Ayden blurted out, “I was having a lot of trouble with my clothes today and I really didn’t want to-” RI-I-IP! The front of his tunic finally gave way, exposing his sweaty chest. “That. I didn’t want that to happen.” “Consider it forgiven,” Agradath breathed. He cleared his throat. “I made something that might help.” He motioned to the tunic. “Thank you,” Ayden said, a bit surprised. He picked it up. “This is beautiful. You made it yourself?” “I had some free time.” Ayden blushed. “Um so, just wanted to let you know, I’m gonna be taking a few days off. It’s wedding season, and I’ve got, like, five weddings back-to-back. Believe me, some of those brides are witches with a capital B.” “Fine,” Agradath huffed. “But I expect you to return immediately after. You’re the closest thing humanity has to a ‘challenge’ for me.” While he said that, he was glad his sword was before him, as he felt his thick manhood pulse. ============================================ The demon lord walked through the marble hall, removing his loincloth as he approached the bath. Fresh steaming water flowed from the steel gargoyles into the marble bath. He eased himself into the water with a sigh. It wasn’t long before his mind began to wander. He could nearly hear the quiet slap of meaty footsteps approaching him from behind. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he could almost feel a hand massage his shoulders. He looked down to see the water parting as something thick began to rise. Agradath growled quietly, almost a purr as his hand stroked his battering ram of a cock. He closed his eyes. His imaginary Ayden peeled off that sweaty vestment with a cocky grin, slowly revealing more of his mountainous cleavage. He tossed the robes away, sure to show off just how his lats flared, and his arms bulged. He eased himself into the water. He moved like a stalking panther across the bath until his body pressed against the demon lord. The demon took a staggering breath, nearly feeling the soft puffs of air from the mortal’s mouth as he spoke against the crook of his neck. “You might be the strongest warlord in all the realms, but I’ll conquer you a different way,” the imaginary priest whispered. “You think I’ll crumble that easily?” Agradath growled back. He could nearly feel the priest’s manhood weighing on his own. “Look at that, mine’s bigger, and it’s just going to keep growing bigger. Because that’s what you really want, isn’t it? A big musclebound god to keep a bratty demon like you in your place.” Agradath gasped with a needy moan. The priest gave him a dirty smirk, tweaking the demon’s nipples before grabbing him by the lats and dominating his mouth with his tongue. He repositioned, letting his massive beast nudge up against the demon lord’s virgin, but twitching, hole. Agradath screamed in delight, erupting in a fountain of seed. His pearly cum splattered against the ceiling before dripping down across the demon’s spent body. His muscles twitched with little aftershocks as he gasped for air. As he came down from his high, he realized two things very quickly. One, while one hand was still on his cock, the other had been teasing his ass. He never played with his ass – ever. The demon lord of all realms was a top, damn it! But… it felt so good. Had he been missing out this entire time? Maybe. Possibly. He’d experiment again later, but the only one he’d actually spread his legs for would likely be Ayden. Maybe. He hated how his cheeks burned when he thought that. It made him feel hollow inside, but… it was a good kind of hollow? None of these feelings were making sense. Regardless, the second thing was how hard he still was. Mortal he was not, but even incubi needed time to recharge. He’d never been so hard – painfully hard! All because of that damn human! His cock spurted out a hefty load of pre just thinking about him. His hands weren’t going to be enough. ============================================ The royal guards stood at attention. Though none would show it, they were intimidated by their lord pacing before them. He glared as he appraised them. Finally, he pointed to the largest. “You! You’ll do, follow me. The rest of you are dismissed.” The others hurried out while the large beefy guard trembled slightly, following his lord. “Your majesty, sir, I apologize if I did something wrong. I know I’m new, but I promise to step up my work!” Agradath slammed the door shut and rolled his eyes. Locking the doors to his chambers, he turned on the guard. “Strip.” “S-sir?!” “Don’t act innocent,” Agradath said in a low growl. “I heard from the others you’ve been dreaming about a night with me. I need to relieve some… tension. I see this as a win-win.” Agradath threw off his loincloth, revealing his proud cock, already drooling a thick stream of pre. The guard couldn’t get undressed fast enough. “D-do you want me to get into missionary or- OH!” Agradath grabbed the guard by his ample ass and dove in. He slammed the guard into his bed in a mating press. The tight ass squeezed his cock perfectly as he pummeled the guard. He loved the feeling of the guard’s muscles press against his own. Yet, he couldn’t help but think: Ayden is gonna be bigger. Ayden is gonna be much bigger. These rock-hard arms are mere pebbles to Ayden’s boulders. These squeezable pecs weren’t the giant slabs like Ayden’s. This sexy ass was tight, but probably not as delectable as Ayden’s. His Ayden. The Ayden he helped grow into a mortal god. He pounded relentlessly, deaf to the guard’s squeals of pleasure and the hot splashes of cum as the guard came for the second time across his abs. All the while, the demon could feel a phantom breath on his neck. A voice whispered in his ear… “Not fair, my lord. You started without me.” Agradath could nearly feel hands wandering and groping his chest as a massive rod teased against his hole. “Mmm… I want your cock next, but first, can I top you?” “Yes… yes… take me…” he panted. “Fuck yes, sir, please destroy me!” The guard moaned, but the demon lord didn’t hear a word. He swore he could feel something begin to stretch his hole, but he exploded into the guard below first. The guard’s stomach swelled full of at least a gallon of cum. “Sir, you can breed me like that anytime…” The sex-drunk demon purred before passing out, curled against his leader. ============================================ The Infernal Emperor was losing his goddamned mind. It had been a few days since Ayden said he would return, yet the cleric had yet to arrive again. He paced frantically around his throne room, peering out over his balcony for any sign of him every few minutes. He had forbidden anyone from disturbing him, mostly because he didn’t want anyone to see how undone he had become. He tried to exercise to ease the tension, but the pump only made him think of the cleric’s muscles. He tried to review his treasury, but that only lead to him making more gifts for Ayden. He would have fucked more of his guards… if they hadn’t been ordered to stay away for now. His hand was a poor substitute. The most recent agricultural yield reports sat on his desk. Just looking at them made him think of how Ayden promised to take him cherry picking. He was thinking about seeing if a walk would clear his head, when he heard footsteps approaching. Heavy ones, that nearly shook the tower. It had to be him! The door groaned as it swung open slowly. He turned and prepared himself, but… Ayden hadn’t grown? Not to say he wasn’t impressive still, but he was the same size as the last time they met. That said, Agradath’s demonic heart skipped a beat seeing him wearing the armored tunic, even if he filled it to the bursting point. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting so long. There were some problems with a surprise last minute suitor at the last wedding.” He then reached back and pulled out a heavy zweihänder, but to Ayden it was as light as a dagger. It was etched with glowing blue runes and seemed to be made of obsidian. “I came across this on the way to see you today. It’s not much but…” It was nowhere near as strong as his own sword, but to Agradath it was the most beautiful sword he’d ever seen. “Thank you,” he muttered, “but don’t think this excuses your tardiness.” He gently took the sword and inspected it. “I really am sorry, my lord,” Ayden replied. “You have my full attention now, and I’m ready to fight.” “Music to my ears,” Agradath nearly purred. He set the gift down and turned back to the cleric, yet before he could draw his sword, he was smashed by a spell – no, it was Ayden! The two smashed to the ground as the cleric grappled him. The two struggled for a moment, before Agradath repositioned, tossing the cleric over his shoulder. The demon lord leaped back, flinging a fireball at the cleric to buy him time to ready his sword. “I admit, you caught me off-guard.” “Had to try something new to impress you,” Ayden laughed, knocking the fireball away with a simple spell. He conjured a holy magic sword and clashed against Agradath; his lack of skill covered by his sheer strength. As Agradath maneuvered to deflect, he saw the cleric beginning to grow before his eyes. Each pulse of those thick veins pumping his arms bigger, bit by bit. The distraction was enough for him to get knocked back. Agradath summoned demonic chains from the underworld, which flung themselves over the cleric’s body. “Today,” Ayden huffed, “is the day I win!” He took a deep breath and flexed. His body continued to swell ever larger. Agradath’s jaw dropped as he saw the dark chains beginning to crack. “Bigger… bigger… bigger!” He tightened his muscles as hard as he could, and the dam broke. Suddenly his chest throbbed bigger. His tunic groaned and bit by bit, the plates buckled and broke. He laughed as he bounced his pecs, shattering the chains. His abs swelled into a tortoise shell that broke the chains around his waist. Finally, his now sequoia-sized thighs destroyed the final chains. “Your spell is going to be your undoing, Emperor,” Ayden said in a husky voice that made Agradath’s body yearn for his touch. “How about you try your own trick?” This time, holy golden chains wrapped their way around the demon lord, binding him tight and bringing him to his knees. Ayden huffed as he walked up to Agradath and knocked him to the ground. “Do you give up, my lord?” Agradath tried to remain stoic, but there was a loud rip. His cock flipped up, free of his loincloth and flinging a stream of pre across the cleric’s boulder sized calves. No… not the cleric; his cleric. His Ayden. The chains bound him tightly, but if he could just reach… perfect. He smirked; his plan was still on track. “Make me, human.” A dark look flashed across Ayden’s face. Seeing the Infernal Emperor trapped before him, his hairy pecs pushed out by the chains and his long forked tongue flickering over his plump lips was more than enough to bring out his most primal instincts. He tore away what little remained of his tunic and jammed his staff into the ground, cracking the tiles. His massive cock, dwarfing Agradath’s by more than a small margin, pulsed with need. “Claim your prize,” the demon breathed. Ayden grabbed him by the horns and slowly but firmly fed him his cock. Agradath moaned around the thick man meat. His eyes rolled back in his head. By the fires of hell, he never expected a man to taste so good. The thick, syrupy stream of pre was like the nectar of gods, and the demon lord was more than willing to worship his new human like the divine. He wanted to savor his cleric, but he didn’t have a choice. Ayden’s primal urges demanded not love making, but skull fucking. Ayden snorted, pounding the demon’s throat like a machine. “Who knew the Infernal Emperor would be so hungry for a human? Were you just sitting here thinking of me, like I was thinking of you?” Agradath moaned, not expecting to enjoy being so thoroughly put in his place. He could hardly keep himself from being lost in the waves of pleasure, from every thrust and from his nipples rubbing against Ayden’s monstrous legs. Oh, he was going to enjoy teasing Ayden into another fuck frenzy later tonight. “Swallow every drop,” Ayden ordered, burying his cock inside and shoving the demon’s face into his pubes. Agradath could only groan as what felt like an endless deluge filled his stomach, stretching his tight abs. He let his body go limp, relishing the afterglow and the feeling of being completely destroyed by his lover. “By the gods, if your mouth is hell, I don’t want to know what heaven is.” Ayden barely got a chance to catch his breath, before he was knocked back on his ass. “How?” He looked up and saw Agradath was freed. “You could get out the whole time?!” “Easily, and now I’m claiming my prize. It’s a good thing those chains were loose enough to prep myself while you enjoyed my mouth,” he grinned evilly, licking his lips. Ayden suddenly felt his massive member grabbed and raised, aimed for the demon’s now well stretched hole. “No please!” “Fuck that,” the demon growled. “I’ve waited too damn long.” “You can’t! It’s sensitive, I just came, plea-AHHHH!” Agradath savored slowly sinking down onto the massive cock, teasing every last inch as he slid down. He came instantly, just having the human inside him felt thousands of times better than he imagined. “Ooooooh,” he purred, “my body was made for your cock… or perhaps your cock was made for me.” Ayden couldn’t respond. He was a burbling wreck of incoherent moans, his eyes rolled back, hips twitching wildly as he experienced pleasures beyond anything he had felt before. Agradath slid deeper and deeper, feeling his hunger for more of his titanic lover only grow stronger and stronger. Ayden looked like his soul was being milked out through his cock. Agradath growled, “Mine. All mine.” Ayden’s hips moved on their own, letting the demon king’s weight slam himself. Agradath didn’t want it any other way, shoving himself just as hard back. “Yes, yes, YES! FUCK ME!” The Infernal Emperor cried out as his seed painted his lover’s torso. “Make me into your slut, human. Don’t you want me? Don’t you want to claim me?!” The taunt pulled the trigger, as the cleric hilted the demon lord, letting a flood loose into his tight, needy ass. Agradath moaned, his second load forced out. “I… I submit!” Agradath gasped, falling forward into his mess spilled across Ayden’s abs. “Wh-what?” Ayden muttered, holding him close, still coming down from his haze. “I submit to you,” He groaned again, finally letting his tough façade drop. He nuzzled into his chest. “I submit to you, you win! I surrender completely to you, Cleric.” “Wait, you mean…?” “Yes, I’ll marry you, my Ayden,” he murmured, pulling himself up and into a gentle kiss. “I don’t think I can live without you. That was… amazing.” Ayden kissed him over and over. “I can’t believe… you actually… want to marry me?” “Dominant sexy lover who can actually go toe to toe with me, not to mention someone finally as driven and stubborn as me,” Agradath huffed, with a grin. “No one has ever made me change my mind or bring me to my knees.” His chest tightened. “I might… love you.” Ayden beamed. “I love you, my lord.” “No, no more of that. You’ve more than proven to at least be my equal, Ayden.” He paused before saying the words he never imagined would ever leave his lips. “I love you, Ayden.” Ayden reached forward and kissed his lover deeply. “I wish this moment would last forever.” “Not allowed,” the Infernal Emperor growled. “Just because you conquered me doesn’t mean you get out of your punishment.” “Punishment?” Ayden flustered. “You made me wait for you. As punishment, you have to make love to me all night.” The cleric blushed. “I think I can manage that, my love.”
  4. Hey everyone. Been a long while since I posted something, and while this isn't exactly a huge start to a story, I'm hoping it'll at least be enough to get your interest for what's to come. Hope you enjoy! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Asura! What the hell is this…THING… you bought into our home?!” Hey, I am not a thing! I’m a human being!... …At least, that’s what I would’ve said if I wasn’t still trying to recover from the massive run for my life that just ended moments ago. When I said I wanted to get in shape, that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind in terms of exercise. The woman who’d guided me here, Asura I assumed, explained the situation while my lungs slowly began to feel less like they were on the verge of exploding. “I ran into him on the way back from the town. He was just standing in the forest in the middle of nowhere, looking really confused and lost.” And she wasn’t kidding about running into me; I had just gotten to my feet when she plowed into me and knocked me into what looked like a tar pit. At least it wasn’t very deep, and I climbed out in time to see what looked like a mature Red Riding Hood standing in front of me. “He?... That’s a male?” The other woman sighed heavily and shook her head. “Come on, now; you know as well as I do that can’t be true. Did you get too close to the confusion flowers again?” “No, he really is a male! I…checked…” I couldn’t with her back to me, but I’m guessing Asura was looking about as red as her cloak. “It really IS a male?... And you bought it here?! When it’s absolutely covered in The Blight?!” If she wasn’t already angry before, the other woman was furious now. “Are you TRYING to get us all killed?!” “That’s exactly WHY I bought him here, though. Yes, he’s absolutely covered in The Blight, but nothing’s happening to him! An exposed male mutates within seconds of being exposed, but it’s been minutes and he hasn’t changed!” The Blight? Is that what this tar stuff is they seem so concerned about? The way they’re describing it, it sounds like literal toxic masculinity. Then again, it does also explain why the first thing Asura did after I climbed out of the pit was press what looked like a freaking machete against my throat and held it there for what seemed like an eternity. She seemed confused after a few moments, then she pulled the waistband of my workout pants and seemed even more confused when she saw my maleness. She started to speak, but it sounded to me like something between a hiss and a growl; I had no idea why she was suddenly speaking English now. I tried to explain to her I had no idea what was going on or how I’d gone from working out in my garage to lost in the middle of a forest, but she seemed just as confused by my responses as I was hers. “I tried to ask him questions, but he didn’t seem to understand me. Before long though I heard something coming toward us fast, so I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the portal back to our farm. Now that we’re in range of the farm’s translation runes, I was hoping he could explain himself.” Portals? Runes? This all sounds crazy, but considering everything I’d have to be crazy to try and deny it was real. At least the burning in my lungs was finally dying down as the other woman continued to look at me with what looked like something between annoyance and disgust. “Well, you bought it here, so it’s your responsibility. I need to get back to my forge.” The other woman stomped past the both of us and out the door of the cottage. “Cyra!...” Asura tried to call after the other woman, but she slammed the door closed behind her and left the two of us alone. Asura sighed softly before going into a nearby room, coming back with a towel that she handed to me. “You’ll have to forgive her; she can be quite bull-headed…” Asura tilted her head a little as I tried to clean myself off as best as I could. “…I’m sorry; were you trying to say your name before? I couldn’t tell, but it sounded something like… Hue-Man? Is that your name?” “No, a human is what I am. My name is Xavier. I…” I felt a headache starting to come on as Asura lowered her hood, revealing her soft brown hair, bright green eyes, and tan skin while I tried not to stare at the brown canine ears atop her head that paired with the canine-like tail that waved gently behind her. Given how Cyra was not only built like a bull but probably was part bull with the massive horns on either side of her head, I was getting the feeling humans were in the minority in this world, wherever it was. I sighed heavily as I began to tell her my story. “I was just trying to get in shape…”
  5. lunette

    Rebirth of a Great Evil

    A short story I came up with recently for my new characters. Cropped illustrations of the characters are included in this story, but full-sized photos can be found on my page at the Artworks/Morphs section here: LINK. Disclaimer: This story contains depictions of rape and/or mildly violent scenes. Please do not read if you find such content distasteful or offensive. Mero glided through the air over the area where he last sensed Promena. Given the strict rules they had to abide by throughout their training to join the ranks of the Seraphim Royal Army, the two rookies had gone out of their Enclave secretly earlier that afternoon to enjoy some time out. Training was getting stressful especially since both Mero and Promena were having difficulty passing through their most recent tests. At the rate they were going, they would never qualify to join the most prestigious order in the army that is the Dawnbringer’s Order. Ever since he was much younger, the now-74 years old Seraphim had always dreamt of being one of the Dawnbringers. They inspire awe and respect from all Fey races wherever they go, even among their fellow Seraphims. In fact, they are regarded just below the royals in Seraphim’s social hierarchy. Of course, Mero and Promena have a long way to go still. Their current age may be considered old by human standards, but for Feys those between 50 to 100 years old are equivalent to human teenagers. As he spread his 16”-span wings wide and floated above the wind, Mero closed his eyes and focused his mind on locating his friend. He was starting to feel that something had gone terribly wrong, and that their decision to sneak out of the enclave was a grave mistake. It took him almost a whole minute before he could sense Promena’s soul presence again. Soul presence is unique for every being as it is their personal connection to the Aether. Those with the knowledge and practice can easily sense and identify the soul presence of sentient beings in their vicinity. Familiarity and emotional connection with another, as was the case between Mero and his friend Promena, can even allow one to locate the other’s soul presence from far distances. Promena’s presence was faint, but it was enough for Mero to ascertain her approximate location. She’s alive, and close...Please be safe, Mena. The young Seraphim offered prayers for his friend’s safety to Cetnea, the Goddess of Protection. Promena’s soul presence brought the golden-haired Seraphim to a small, human town about three hours of flight from the enclave. The town was close the edge of the plain, at most a mile from the point where the vast Dhijarhe Desert begins. Mero circled the seemingly empty town high in the air a few times, surveying it for any sign of life. But it was clear to Mero a few minutes later that he and possibly Promena were the only two detectable soul presence there. Confident that there was no visible threat in the area, Mero descended swiftly and landed in the middle of the abandoned town’s small square. The young Seraphim folded his white, feathery wings and willed them to meld into his back, forming golden tattoos on his skin. Wing-melding was one of the basic life skills taught to all young Seraphims, alongside flight itself as well as beginner-level healing and protection spells. It makes it easier for them to move about when they are not in flight. Standing still in the middle of the square, Mero observed the empty buildings around him. He had never ventured this far out in his life, so the town was not familiar to the young Seraphim. A few looked like they were in need of maintenance, but overall, none of them were in particularly bad conditions. Something bad must have happened here, thought Mero. Were they raided by the Orcs? Unlikely, because even Orcs would leave trails behind. Mero closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on finding Promena again. It seemed like her soul presence was growing weaker by the minute. Mero was so focused on his task that he did not sense nor hear the magical portal opening nearby, and the two figures stepping out of it. A sudden, paralyzing pain throughout his whole body jerked him out of his concentration. The blond Seraphim shrieked in pain as he fell to the ground on his side, his lithe body shuddering uncontrollably. He managed to turn his body on his back just as two figures appeared casting shadows over his quivering figure. “What luck do we have today, Master Nacul?” asked a sultry, female voice to his left. “Two of these precious, winged Seraphims in a single afternoon!” The female being laughed with wicked glee. “We are lucky indeed, Svana. We already have enough for our work here, but who’s to say we shouldn’t have more,” replied a raspy male voice. Mero could almost visualize the wicked grin on their lips. In between the paralyzing pain and the bright sun behind the shadowy figures, Mero could only make out their shapes before he began to lose consciousness. Demons, he thought. He knew he was in deep trouble. * * * A waft of something cold with the unmistakable smell of Sulfur brought Mero back to consciousness. His head felt heavy as he groggily opened his eyes. The first thing to greet his return to consciousness was a pale-skinned woman’s face, smiling widely at him. A waft of smoke was being produced by whatever she was holding in her cupped hand, which she had placed in front of his face. Her bright, nearly glowing red eyes and the pair of inch-long fangs caused Mero to pull his head backward abruptly. His reaction brought a cackle of laughter from the three-century-old demoness. The blond Seraphim tried to move only to learn that he was completely immobilized. He dangled nearly a foot over the floor of a rocky cave – or dungeon, he couldn’t tell – brightly lit by torches along the wall. His arms and legs were spread apart and chained to a pair of stone pillars set nearly seven feet apart. “Welcome back!” the demoness who Mero’s quickly recovering memories identified as Svana said mockingly. “I hope you had a good nap, pretty one. And hopefully we didn’t cause to much pain. We didn’t mean to harm you. Not yet, at least.” She said as she caressed his fair-skinned face with her right hand. Mero nearly flinched when he saw that her skin from her wrist to the end of her fingers was completely black, in stark contrast to her otherwise deathly pale skin. Her hair was dark, and her lips much like her eyes was blood-red. She ran her fingers, each of which had at least two inches of sharp nails at their end upward through his thick golden hair. She gripped the back of his head to keep him from moving and brought her face and body closer to his. As she did so, she pressed her huge, naked breasts on his bare chest. Seemingly undisturbed by the action, Svana moved her nose downward to his neck. There she stopped and inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of his blood through his skin. In his mind, Mero cycled through the different types of demons he was taught during his lessons back at the Enclave, and she reminded him of the Malcarri, servants of the Archdemoness Malcanthet. Similar to their queen, Malcarri is an entirely female demon subspecies, renowned for their allure, illusion magic, deceitful nature and thirst for blood. When she began to moan while licking his neck as if she was tasting him, Mero closed his eyes tightly, waiting for her teeth to sink into his fragile neck. The sound of metal clanging on the stone floor caused the demoness to stop and promptly released her hold on Mero’s head. She turned to face the newcomer just as Mero opened his eyes. “You’re back, Master Nacul!” she said as she walked – no, glided across the floor – toward the other person, who had walked in from another part of the chamber. Master Nacul, as Svana called him, had the appearance of a hunched, elderly male human perhaps a hundred years old or so. He wore a plain black, hooded robe and in his left hand he wielded a spiked staff made of reddish metal. He could pass as a human albeit an incredibly old one, but Mero knew that this was not the case. For one, he had a similar soul presence as the Malcarri. Secondly, she seemed to regard him as her superior, which meant that he has either enslaved her through magical means, or he possesses powerful arcane powers. Either way, Mero knew he was in deep shit. Mero doubt he was capable of dealing with the one Malcarri, let alone two seemingly more powerful enemies. His frightening situation reminded him of his friend Promena, which caused the young Seraphim to look at his surroundings frantically. Taking in the sight around the huge, circular-shaped chamber, Mero’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when he realized that there were half a dozen other nude figures hanging or chained around the chamber just like he was. However, unlike him none of them were conscious. The stone pillars where Mero was bound to were also located on a higher surface, about three feet higher than the rest of the chamber. Mero took his time identifying the other figures. He noticed that each of them was of different race. There was a human to his right, then an elf, followed by a 7-foot tall orc, an equally large and hairy minotaur, a 4-foot dwarf, and finally Promena. Mero wanted to call out at his friend, but he knew it would be in vain. Her head was down, and her long brown hair covered her face. She looked largely unharmed Mero knew she was far from it. A demonic pentagram had been carved on her torso, exposing bits of flesh even though no blood came out of it. Similar carvings had also been done on the other five captives. Some on the chest like the human, and others on their forehead like the dwarf. Looking at the floor Mero was aghast to see a huge, intricate pentagram drawn using massive amount of blood connecting the six unconscious captives. Mero may not know much about the dark arts, but he had a feeling that his evil captors are preparing for a grand spell. Mero strained his neck to look up, and his heart sank when he saw how deep the chamber was. The only opening high up looked like a well opening considering its perfectly circular shape, and it seemed to be at least 200 feet above the underground chamber’s floor. Mero figured he would need his wings to escape. But first, he needed to free himself from the metal chains. Seeing as the sorcerer and his demon assistant were occupied with scrolls of paper that were spread across a table at the other end of the chamber, Mero figured there would be no better time. He closed his eyes in concentration, focused on gathering mana from deep inside his being, and whispered the incantation for the spell to break the chains and free his limbs. “Bazyudava!” Mero felt the familiar feeling of mana flowing through his body, but instead of seeing the chains falling apart Mero felt a deep, searing pain on his back as if someone was pressing a burning-hot metal brand on his back. The pain took him by surprise and Mero cried out loud, causing his captors to look at him in amusement. “An infernal arcane seal, my naïve Seraphim,” Svana yelled from her position across the chamber. “I etched the seal into the skin on your back myself. It’ll prevent you from casting any magical spell or even unfold your wings.” Mero could only grunt as he stifled his groan. The demoness moved towards the center of the chamber and gazed upward toward the darkening sky. It seemed like she was discerning the time of day, and a few seconds passed before she turned toward the old sorcerer and said, “The time is near, Master Nacul. You should prepare yourself.” Nacul looked up from his scrolls to his demon assistant. “Indeed, I should. Thank you, Svana.” He rolled the scrolls up and carefully bound them with a string of rope. While he was getting prepared for whatever horror of a spell they were about to cast, the demoness decided she would taunt the blond Seraphim again. “Aah, how lucky you are, Ceyafra,” she said teasingly, referring to him using the common tongue’s word for adolescent Seraphim. “Master Nacul has decided that you will be the witness to his awakening and ascension as the 10th Archdemon. How amazing is that?” “The 10th Archdemon…?” Mero said with unconcealed incredulity in his voice. There has not been a “10th Archdemon” in centuries, ever since the second planar war when the power-hungry Archdemon Trirkahnan tried to invade the Prime Material realm and was ultimately defeated. “You must be mad! I may not know much about demons or whatever magic you two wield, but you’re clearly human,” Mero spat in the direction of the emaciated-looking sorcerer, who was making his way to the center of the pentagram. “There is no way you can become not only a demon, but an Archdemon at that!” Mero considered the six helpless figures including Promena who will be part of the spell in some way. Even if he used these six as some sort of offerings or sacrifices…but turning a mere human into an Archdemon? Impossible! It must be impossible! doubt the young Seraphim. “Oh, but I am already a demon, young one,” the elder sorcerer said, adding more to Mero’s shock. “At least, I am presently half-demon. I am the offspring of a demon father and a human mother, both of which I barely knew. No matter, though. They’re irrelevant. My beautiful Svana here will help me to rid myself of my humanity, and this staff,” he held the spiky metal staff up high, “will grant me powers beyond the demon who sired me.” Mero stared at the metal staff with confusion which did not go unnoticed by his two captors. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Archdemon Trirkahnan, but I wonder if you know the full story of how he was defeated?” Nacul asked. “Everyone who cares about the history of this plane does,” Mero responded brusquely. “He was an egomaniac, arrogant and greedy beyond measure. He was powerful, but his vices were also his downfall. Trirkahnan and his army tried to overtake this plane, but they were defeated by the Prime Coalition. Forces of good from this plane united to defeat the Archdemon and his army.” Mero cited as he had learned back at the Enclave. Svana sneered at the young Seraphim, while Nacul responded with a chuckle. “Is that all your history book says about Trirkahnan’s invasion?” the demoness asked. Mero was about to retort when Nacul said, “It’s what they want everyone to believe. Even themselves. At least so they can pretend they’re superior to us demons.” He then pointed the staff to the sky, and without so much as a word a red bolt of lightning shot out, striking the evening sky and caused a reverberation of energy throughout the chamber that lasted for nearly half a minute. The blond Seraphim expected the staff to be magical, but that single lightning bolt shook him and caused the hair on his arms to stand on its ends. “This is the Staff of Trirkahnan, young Seraphim,” said the sorcerer when the rolling thunder has eased in the sky far above. “The only reason the Archdemon was defeated, was because he was not of this plane. Demons are native to the Infernal Plane, so their essence can never last for long in this plane. Perhaps it was indeed arrogance, but Trirkahnan thought he had more time to conquer this plane. Unfortunately for him, he was attacked in a particularly rare moment where his essence has weakened, and the unified forces managed to destroy his physical body. Even then they couldn’t destroy his soul for he was a very powerful being. The best they could do was to trap his soul and all his powers into an enchantment. And that is this staff you see before you.” Nacul drove the base of the metal staff onto the chamber’s stone floor causing sparks to fly. The ringing noise it caused echoed for a few seconds before it dissipated. Svana then continued, “That was centuries ago, and even an Archdemon’s soul can’t survive that long in this world. I’ve been here for three days but I could already feel the strain on my physical body and my soul. But Trirkahnan’s power, it resides within that staff. When Master Nacul takes control of that power, he shall be the new 10th Archdemon, and I shall be his consort.” Mero was not even surprised at the last bit. He knew the sorcerer must have offered her something in return for her services. Seems like this demoness Svana was more than happy to betray her mistress the Archdemoness Malcanthet. “Enough talking, my beautiful Svana. It is time,’ Nacul said as he gestured for her to take her place. It was dusk, judging by the violet sky color as can be seen through the well opening. “Let the young Seraphim witness my ascension by himself. Then we shall continue.” The pale-skinned Malcarri moved swiftly to stand at the edge of the large pentagram, directly facing her new Master. Meanwhile, the old sorcerer took off his dark robe and let if fall on the floor. He stood in the middle of the pentagram, his heavily wrinkled skin exposed for Mero and Svana to see. Mero thought of calling his friend one last time, but he knew it would be in vain. Svana waved her clawed hands around, shaping and bending her mana for the spell she was about to cast. Nacul too was completely focused on the staff in his hands. Red and black mana appeared like mists around Svana, which she waved around in a circular motion before she finally uttered the words, “Izvandr Yatsin!” The ring of red and black mana immediately shot out to engulf the six unconscious figures. Their bodies glowed momentarily in response, followed by a shudder as if they were having a brief seizure. A bright red puff of smoke then emerged from their mouths. The smoke formed into strings and began to flow toward Nacul in the center. Nacul himself must have casted another spell, as red and yellow sparks danced along the staff and around his body. As the cloud of red smoke continued to flow and grow in size, Mero noticed that the captives’ body seemed to be shrinking proportionately. It was as if Svana’ spell disintegrated their flesh and muscles, leaving only a bag of skin and bones behind. Within a few minutes, the last bit of the red smoke had left the captives’ bodies and Mero realized that they were now truly dead. Their vacant eyes and mouth opened wide. His eyes watered at the sight of his friend, Promena, or at least of what was left of her. He silently vowed to avenge her death, even as he was hanging there hopeless and powerless. The red smoke had by now completely engulfed the sorcerer. Nothing was visible of him except for frenzied sparks of lightning from within the thick sphere of smoke. Then, faster than how it started, the thick, red smoke suddenly collapsed toward its center and revealed a changed Nacul. Where a shriveling old man once stood was now a mighty looking man, his frail body replaced with one that exuded physical strength and power. In his hands Nacul held an ordinary-looking metal staff, stripped of its mysterious reddish color. The sorcerer had grown not only in his muscularity, but also in height as he now stood nearly a foot taller than the lanky Seraphim. In between his thick thighs, his enlarged genitalia measured nearly ten inches completely soft. He has really grown all over, thought Mero. Nacul moved his arms, his eyes savoring the sight of his now improved and huge physique. A thin covering of hair sparsely matted his whole body. When he looked at his remaining prisoner, Mero could see that he now possessed a pair of glowing, red eyes just like a demon. Svana cooed at her new Master and unofficial consort. “It seems like the spells worked perfectly, Lord Nacul. How are you feeling?” Nacul closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before he answered, his deep voice creating reverberations in the air. “I feel…immense. I can feel the ocean of power inside me.” To demonstrate this power, the newly awakened demon extended one arm with a clenched fist and without needing to utter any incantations, his fist glowed bright red and in seconds a ball of lightning appeared surrounding it. He then willed for the lightning ball to dissipate, and it disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared. A tingling feel on his back caused the demon-sorcerer to intuitively flexed his back, which then caused a pair of leathery, black and gold wings to unfurl. When spread wide Nacul’s large wings easily spanned as wide as Mero’s feathery one. The sorcerer spent the next few minutes admiring and flexing his new physique, while Mero and Svana looked on, one with contempt while the other with adulation and a sense of submission. When he was finally satisfied with his inspection, Nacul decided it was time for further demonstrations of power. The demon-sorcerer flapped his powerful wings once, and it was almost like he disappeared into thin air, only to appear directly in front of the bound Seraphim. Mero instinctively jerked backward in surprise, though his movement was greatly restrained. “Now,” began Nacul. “I think I should get to know you first, Ceyafra. What’s your name?” He said as he brought one hand up to cup Mero’s chin and held his face in his hands. “M-Mero Thyridas,” the Seraphim answered suspiciously. He could sense that the demon-sorcerer has something evil in mind. Nacul smiled. “Mero Thyridas. I’m feeling generous today. I don’t need to kill you, so how about…I reward you, instead.” Mero refused to respond, so instead he gave the demon-sorcerer one of his stony glares. Whatever this new Archdemon has in mind would not end well for me, he thought. “What do you say to a taste of power, Mero?” Nacul continued. “Perhaps I can entice you with a small dose of my essence.” Even without the sorcerer saying the word, Mero knew exactly what was implied. The Fallen. Blackwings. Dark Seraphim. Those are the few among many other names used to describe a Seraphim who succumbed to infernal persuasions and defiled their own nature. A Seraphim who voluntarily allow themselves to be tainted by demonic essence will forever be changed into a perverse, destructive and cruel version of themselves. Their white wings will turn midnight black – hence the name Blackwings – and their powers will be enhanced manifold, at least three times stronger or so Mero has heard. This was why demonic power was considered During the first planar war over nine centuries prior, a band of the Fallen was responsible for more deaths and destruction on the Prime Material plane than the demon armies. Some even led armies of demons in the battles against the old Kingdoms of Seraphim, humans and elves. Supposedly, the gods and goddesses themselves had to interfere to prevent the Infernal forces from winning the war. Nacul knew a Fallen by his side, especially one he sires with his own Archdemon blood would make for a very intimidating and powerful assistant. Perhaps he would appoint the young Seraphim as his general once he has raised his own army. “NO!” Mero responded without the slightest hesitation. “I would rather die than be one of your minions!” He then spat on the Archdemon’s face for good measure. Nacul smiled as he wiped the spit from his nose and cheek. “So clueless. So defiant. There is one way I can persuade you, young one. Make you submit to me. Yield to me and become my angel of death.” Before Mero could even start wondering what he meant by his remark, Nacul had reached down and grabbed his loin cloth with both hands. As if tearing a piece of paper in two, the sorcerer easily ripped the wool cloth away, freeing the Seraphim’s genitalia. Mero had always considered himself amply endowed, but his 7-inch meat looked small when compared to the sorcerer’s bigger organ, especially when Nacul’s tool was slowly growing erect. As he began to touch and slowly massage the young Seraphim’s cock, the sorcerer also worked himself to full arousal. Svana on the other hand was enjoying the show of temptation and dominance being presented in front of her. “Look at the size of my cock, Mero. Wouldn’t you agree it’s as much a weapon as my nearly limitless powers?” the Archdemon asked, though Mero remained silent. “Last chance to submit, or should I show you the damage this weapon of mine can inflict?” Still the young Seraphim remained defiant. “Very well. If that is your choice, then let us see just how long you can resist me. The Dark Goddess knows I haven’t had this pleasure in a long time.” The muscular Nacul grabbed Mero’s semi-aroused meat in one hand, while the other hand he used to stroke and massage his own painfully erect organ. It didn’t take him long to bring the blond Seraphim to full erection, though the latter had closed his eyes tight, trying his best to suppress his growing lust. Mero simply refused to admit this inexplicable attraction he felt toward Nacul. He knew it was not so much the physical attraction, but more toward the raw power he could feel being in close proximity to an Archdemon. Nacul brought both cocks together in his two hands and alternated between stroking and squeezing the two organs. Mero could feel the heat coming off from the aroused Archdemon. Soon even Mero could not stop himself from moaning in pain and pleasure. “Listen to my voice, Mero. I can give you power and pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. Don’t you wish to be the strongest Seraphim there is? I am the only one who can give you that power.” “NO!” roared the blond Seraphim. “I- I don’t need your power, you filth!” Nacul’s face hardened as Mero rejected his offer again. “Then I will let you experience real pain. Perhaps then you will change your mind!” Nacul carefully aligned his cockhead between Mero’s widely spread legs, and in one swift motion pressed his thick shaft into the young Seraphim’s tight hole. Nacul’s foot-long meat was like a burning-hot iron pike, and Mero felt every inch of the meat being driven into him. His first instinct was to clamp his hole shut, but it was in vain as the demon was too strong. Mero felt pain unlike anything he has ever experienced before as his anal tissue was being torn by the demon’s vicious and raw thrusting actions. He felt like the Archdemon was trying to split him in two. He was sure he was bleeding by then, though no blood seemed to have leaked out of his hole which was plugged tightly shut by Nacul’s tool. Mero started to grow even more frantic as Nacul’s pumping grew in intensity. He squirmed even harder, trying to free himself from the chains and the vicious rape to no avail. “Do you feel like giving up now, Mero?” Nacul said while he continued to pull nearly all of his meat out save the bulbous head, and drove it back in angrily. Mero ignored his torturer, his eyes tightly shut due to the pain that he could feel throughout his whole body. His own 7-inch cock was rigid, and painfully so. The pain and strange pleasure flooded his mind with confusion. He had never experienced male-on-male sex previously, even if it was not forbidden among his people. The torturous experience was driving him wild and still, the young Seraphim steeled his resolve and refused to give in. Mero’s defiance was causing the Archdemon to become increasingly frustrated despite himself, and he paid for the frustration with more relentless pummeling. It was as if Nacul was rushing towards a climax. He has not experienced any sexual fulfilment for nearly a century, the price he paid for magically prolonging his previously human life. The need for sexual gratification clouded his mind, and unbeknownst to him or Svana, his greed for sexual release would be his downfall. As he went on inflicting more damage and pain to the young Seraphim, Nacul could not stop himself from reaching the point of no return. He knew he now possesses such power that he can incinerate lowly mortals without much of an effort, but dominating the chiseled-face Seraphim was driving him physically mad with lust. Seconds later Mero felt a sudden surge of flooding cum deep inside him as the Archdemon reached his climax. Instead of pulses upon pulses of violent eruption as he’d expect, the demon began blasting a powerful, steady stream of cum inside him. Nacul moaned loudly in pleasure and satisfaction. His moans of pleasure were echoed by Svana, who was driven to an involuntary orgasm merely by being in the vicinity of the Archdemon. Nacul then casually grabbed the waist of the skinny Seraphim and began driving the young, lithe body up and down his throbbing meat. As he did so, even more of his orgasmic fluid blasted out into the near-unconscious Seraphim, and the pleasure it gave him was indescribable. Several minutes has passed and his seemingly endless climax surprised even the Archdemon. He wondered if there was no limit to his libido. Even Svana the Malcarri was growing weak from the series of orgasms she was experiencing. She might be a sex-demon by nature, but even she could not match an Archdemon. Nacul closed his eyes and threw his head backwards as he roared loudly, drowned as he was in new heights of sexual euphoria. It was only when he noticed the fast-growing weight on his pulsating cock that he opened his eyes again, and the sight that greeted him caused his jaw to drop. Several feet away, Svana was slumped on the ground but her eyes were transfixed on the growing figure impaled by her Master’s still-throbbing cock, pure shock and fear reflected on her face. Black veins bulged and ran all over Mero’s rapidly growing body. While this was happening, Mero himself seemed out of it with his eyes closed and his head hung heavily backward on top of a thickening neck. Bulges upon bulges of muscles appeared on his violently spasming body. Nacul’s great orgasm finally ceased, and his spent cock slowly slipped out of the growing Seraphim. The first thing Nacul noticed was how significantly weaker he felt. His sense of despair worsened when he realized he could no longer feel the ocean of mana he had felt moments earlier. The changed Seraphim’s body suddenly felt too heavy for Nacul to hold that he had to step back and release the hold he had on him. Mero’s body slumped to the floor on both knees, with his head hanging lazily forward and his hands dropped on his sides. Nacul instinctively reached out to touch Mero’s now-mountain traps with his hands. He tried to squeeze the hard muscles in his hands only to find that the transformed Seraphim’s body was so dense that he could not even dent it. Stepping a few more feet backward, the demon-sorcerer turned to his stunned assistant. “What’s happening here, Svana?!” Meanwhile the demoness’ eyes were transfixed on the prone hulking figure. She hesitated before she answered, “I- I think you’ve just transferred Lord Trirkahnan’s powers to the Seraphim, Master Nacul.” “How is that even possible? My spell freed his power from the binding enchantments of the staff. And I absorbed it into my body.” Deep down Nacul knew the answer. He has made a grave mistake by not letting the Archdemon’s power time to fully assimilate with his being. As such, the power that should have been his now belonged to someone else. “You did, Master Nacul. But…but it seems like his power has somehow chosen the Seraphim as its vessel...” Svana’s voice trailed off as she considered what she had just said. The Dark Seraphim in the first planar war were created by a touch of demonic powers and they were already capable of so much destruction and feared by many. It was the main reason the Archdemons gave them merely a touch of their essence. But one imbued with an Archdemon’s full power? Her thought was interrupted when she noticed the huge Seraphim had stirred awake. Her eyes grew wider when Mero rose on his feet and he easily towered over her demon Master. Nacul himself stared similarly wide eyed with awe and fear. Mero on the other hand seemed temporarily oblivious to the other two. A strange sensation traveled across his morphed body as he absorbed the last of Trirkahnan’s essence. He felt invincible. His lithe, slender body had transformed into a mind-boggling collection of bulging and striated muscles. He lifted his right arm and the extended, vein-lined muscles looked as though they would burst through his skin. He brought his left hand up to feel the weight of his mammoth chest and traced his fingers over the swollen areolae that crowned it, which elicited a soft moan from his lips. He moved his eyes downward but found that most of his lower body was hidden underneath the thick overhang of his chest muscles. He would have to crane his neck and lean forward to see past his bulging pectoral muscles. For the time being, the muscular giant ran both of his hands over his abdomen, feeling the hardness and the contours of each vascular block of muscles. His downward travelling hands soon reached the base of his enlarged cock, its new thickness demanded that he uses both hands to completely encircle it. Mero hefted his man-meat in his hands, and their sheer size and weight caused him to grin with a new sense of pride. Even soft it was more than a foot long. Nearby, Nacul and Svana were caught in a trance as they tried to comprehend the embodiment of power before them and the overwhelming aura his body emanated. His heavily muscled back rippled with every little movement that he made. A dark, metallic tattoo has also replaced the golden tattoo on his back. The Dark Seraphim suddenly raised his head, and his bright blue eyes bore into Nacul’s smaller figure. The muscular yet smaller demon felt like a prey that has been cornered by a vicious predator. For once, Nacul felt real fear. He doesn’t need any confirmation that the being standing in front of him now was a Fallen of unprecedented powers. When Mero suddenly unfurled his great, black wings, both Nacul and Svana wasted no time and tried to escape. Nacul had barely managed to spread his leathery wings when Mero’s powerful hand grabbed hold of his neck and held him in place. The demon-sorcerer flapped his wings frantically to no avail. He screamed in pain and fear just as Mero’s dark shadow engulfed his figure. * * * The newly created Dark Seraphim hovered low above the abandoned town, his powerful wings easily holding his massive body afloat in the air. As he looked down at the dull, empty town below him, Mero felt an uncontrollable desire to destroy it, just as he had felt toward the two demons earlier in the underground dungeon. The sensation was new, but Mero had enjoyed destroying them immensely. Both the demoness and the demon-sorcerer had tried to run away when Mero spread his 20-feet wings wide, but a mere sweep of his left wing as he turned on his feet, and the demoness’ upper body disintegrated in a shower of blood and gore. Even Mero himself was pleasantly surprised by the destructive force a simple movement had caused. Each of his quill was like an indestructible blade despite their feather-like appearance and the demoness’ body shattered like a brittle sand sculpture against them. Nacul the sorcerer had tried to fight him as Mero held him by his neck, his feet dangling over a foot above the ground. He had thrown spells upon spells that simply dissipated uselessly on the Dark Seraphim’s great, muscled body. Mero had then remembered his promise to avenge his friend Promena, so he had the sorcerer slowly dismembered limb by limb, before crushing the dying demon underneath his foot. Now relishing the same desire for widespread destruction, Mero brought his right hand up in front of him and willed his unlimited energy to start flowing and spread wide, before he clenched his hand into a fist. It was his first true demonstration of power when all the energy he had released rushed back and collapsed inward, disintegrating everything within a five-mile radius and leaving nothing but dust in its wake. Smiling at the magnitude of devastation he could cause with such ease, Mero lifted his head and stared at the horizon, thinking of what destruction he would wreck next.
  6. bauq348

    Magician of the Nerds

    Magician of the Nerds Part I: High School Matt glanced around the locker room to see if he was alone. Then he flicked open the letter with his thumb: “Great Morndas upon you P.A. Matthew O’Leary, Our best wishes to you and your family at the start of your new year. This birthday, marking the end of your 18th year, now classifies you as Proto-Apprentice. You may perform any spells on this day, or any other birthday for the next four years until your 22nd birthday, upon which time you will be promoted to full Apprentice. As you are an underage magician, we remind you that you are forbidden to perform magic outside your home or Spelling Designated Areas (for examples of SDAs, please go to our website at https://www.spellinglawandyou.mp/SDA) on any other day except these birthdays, and that Public Practice and Civilian Protection laws are perpetually in place and will be enforced to the Code’s full extent by the Magic Detection Agency (MDA). Any P.A. magician, should they not follow these guidelines, will undergo full Minor Council Review resulting in possible promotion postponement and/or mystic mentorship. Have a great year. The Council at Avalon, The Fire within suffers no Shadows” Matt grimaced and folded the letter back in his bag before stuffing the bag in his locker. Bureaucratic shits, he thought (Matt picked up this term from his Mom), it’s not like they’re even on the same continent anyway. There were separate magical governments across the Atlantic from each other, in Britain and America. Both worked directly with their respective nations’ non-magical governments, but also adhered directly to the wisdom of the Council at Avalon. It was bullshit, cause the only way to get to Avalon for years was through Britain. Things have changed a bit. They were all still bureaucratic shits though. He took out his black basketball shorts, netted and a little short, and slipped it on over each leg. Matt hadn’t ever heard of a Proto-Apprentice actually getting into trouble on their Spelling Day, anyway. Maybe a zap on the wrist, but nobody was shit enough to send a teenager to the Council for a minor infringement. Still, Matt wished he didn’t have to limit himself at all. Spelling Day was great and he’d waited seventeen years for it, but it didn’t excite him nearly as much as it did when he was younger. Matt reached back in his locker and took out his gym shirt, and by gym shirt it was the uniform of his favorite Tweeding team, the Hudson Valley Bulls (though most of his family still prescribed to the Charles River Serpents, much to Matt’s rivalry). Matt could make out his team’s uniform anywhere: the smooth, sturdy material, the bold maroon color with the golden horned lining along the sleeves and neck hole, the Hudson Valley Tweeding Club’s crest over one chest, the Nike’s check on the other, and the white lettering that spelt out “Hudson Valley Bulls” in a proud and elegant font. To Matt, it meant fierce magicians battling it out with spells and brute force in raging river waters. To his classmates, it just looked like a hipster rugby team. He put the jersey over his head and put an arm through each whole. It finally fit well over his average body type after spending years being two sizes too big. The material felt good hugging his body and reminded him of growing up, when all his friends were from other Spelling families. They’d play games or wander into the back woods and imagine themselves older and grown, graduated from Avalon’s School and fixing the world with their powers. Or playing professional Tweeding with crowds and crowds of cheering friends. That was a long time ago. It felt like it at least. Spelling families tended to cluster together, and although they remained in the same community, Matt had drifted away from the friend pack. They all waved to him in the halls and they hung out now and then, but they weren’t his friends. Not his best ones at least. Matt slammed his locker door after he finished changing into his gym clothes. A whiff of stink went up his nose. He raised an arm and sniffed. Yup, that’s B.O. He put his left hand out and faced his palm towards his torso. Then he closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. He rang the words clearly and loudly in his mind: Impartis Oduro. A gentle breeze then hit his skin and a pleasant but nondescript scent filled the space around him and clung to his jersey shirt. Much better, he thought. He grinned now that he finally tried his magic in public. That spell he’d learned from his old babysitter. Gabe was a Spelling boy from Pennsylvania who joined their neighborhood a decade ago. With no relatives in Connecticut he had needed support, so the O’Leary’s hired him immediately and employed him consistently for years. He’d taught Matt some Spells every now and then, whether Matt’s parents had wanted Gabe to or not. Odd jobs and tricks and domestic chores were Matt’s main Spelling repertoire. He’d always had an affinity for Morphology, though. At a young and astounding age, his parents would find him playing with mysteriously long-tailed squirrels or fat and flightless birds. They’d scold him but also sit in wonder, their little toddler performing low-level metamorphosis spells with natural skill. And without knowing the spells themselves. His parents had told him to keep quiet about his talents. They hadn’t wanted him to hurt anybody, or have anybody hurt him because of it. ‘Special gifts’ in the magic community weren’t always accepted easily. The Council tended to be… Conservative. The locker room door banged open. Wiley Carter walked in and shrugged his bag off at his locker. He gave a nod and wave to Matt, which Matt returned. They kept to themselves. Wiley was smart and quick and funny, but quiet. He played Runescape with Matt in Middle School, but now they only talked in class and shuffled home at the end of the day. His hair was dark and straight, cut short on the sides and the back, and little longer on top, pushed to the side. He had an average frame but skinny limbs, a product of his gamer life and fast teenage metabolism. He had deep brown eyes, if Matt remembered correctly. He changed into his gym clothes too, slipping on small white shorts and a blue sleeveless under-armor. His face was pleasant, handsome even. He was a good-looking guy, under the radar and underrated. The locker room door boomed open again, this time followed by voices. Blair Callum rounded the corner with his buddies, Sanjay Tran, and Jonah Walton. “Watch it bro,” Jonah shouldered into Wiley as the group passed. They chuckled and snickered. “Can’t wait for Saturday, dude,” Sanjay piped up. “I’m so fucking ready, it’s gonna be lit man,” Jonah slipped off his shirt and banged on his locker. It bounced open. “If no one lame shows up,” Blair grumbled. Sanjay and Jonah over-enthusiastically agreed. Sanjay slid on some gym shorts, “Man, no one knows about it except Marnie’s squad and the team, right?” “I don’t fucking know, party rumors spread,” Blair’s head glared towards Wiley. Matt caught himself staring and twitched his head back to his locker. Blair was a douchebag. And it was even more annoying cause he was a handsome and athletic douchebag. His dusty blonde hair looked perfectly and nauseatingly preppy matched with his jeans and fitting short-sleeve button down. He had a douchey smile and an overall sense of douchebaggity elitism. It was all so attractive, and Matt hated that. “Hey Carter, you want to get some girls drunk?” Matt looked back and saw Jonah, “You looking to get in on this, eh?” Wiley ignored him and fiddled with his bag. “Hey bro, I’m talking to you. If you’re so interested in our conversation, join it… BRO!” “No thanks.” Wiley didn’t even turn back. Jonah and Sanjay cackled. “Fucking queer,” Sanjay slapped Jonah’s ass. “I’m not gay. It doesn’t matter, but I’m not. It shouldn’t matter,” Wiley lifted an eyebrow in their direction. Blair stood up. Matt rolled his eyes. “You think so?” Blair glared at Wiley, who looked away, “Who the fuck are you to decide that?” Blare was menacingly direct. And close, now standing behind the nerd. Wiley didn’t want anything to do with him. Matt heard a crash as Blair thrust his large hand on to a locker, next to Wiley’s head. Wiley didn’t flinch. Matt’s heart was beating faster now. “You may want to rethink your liberal bullshit for a second before this locker becomes your face.” The pit in Matt’s stomach burned and twisted. He was angry, for Wiley and for himself. He wanted Blair to be pummeled; he wanted to contort him, to shrink and shatter him. He wanted to wipe all the smug douche cockery off his face on to the ground and twist his head to look the other way. But he couldn’t break the rules. Not on his first day. “You gonna fucking say something, queer sucker?” Wiley sighed, “The locker becoming my face doesn’t make sense and you have irrational anger problems.” Blair fumed and had death in his eyes. Matt’s thoughts raced, faster than ever before. The world must’ve stopped outside. The only thing Matt knew is that he couldn’t hurt Blair with magic. There wasn’t even a spell he knew that was violent like that. There wasn’t going to be any attacking. But there was Wiley. Matt fixed his eyes on the scrawny boy in blue. His body was weak, but his shoulders were back and proud facing the lockers and his mind was sharp, waiting and watching for Blair over his shoulder. His pale face had a determinedly sad expression. It was a scowl, in disappointment, muttering the same questions that ran through Matt’s head. Why do they get to do this to us? Why do we have to live with this? Matt’s mouth was dry. His eyelids shut and air flowed in and out of his lungs. His mind cleared and the tingling on his neck reminded him there wasn’t much more time to waste. Instead of tears, fire lit in his eyes. He drove his passion into the energy around him and focused it at Wiley. Almost like a prayer, he willed it to fill him with strength, and agility, and confidence, and a fiery vigor to fight. Matt didn’t know what he was doing, mind you. He didn’t know if it would miraculously help, or if it was idiotic for a Proto-Apprentice to try to do magic like this without using a spell. And maybe it wouldn’t help him. Maybe it’d hurt him. Wiley took in a sharp breath and shuddered. His fingers clutched tightly to his bag. His body fidgeted a few times, almost like it were crackling and overloading with energy. Blair took back his hand, his expression softening then contorting again in confusion. Then Wiley’s limbs creaked, somehow becoming longer. His legs stretched nob by nob, and his arms grew along with his torso. “What the-?” Blair stepped away. Wiley’s breath continued to flutter, but his throat grunted. Low and resonate. His calves looked to be engorged with blood. In fact his whole body looked… Tight. Matt’s own breathe shook, but he kept on staring at Wiley, staying quiet. Then Wiley’s calves pulsed once. Then twice. Then they twitched and suddenly starting growing in size. The tendons and striations all along his legs tightened and inflated. It sent grunts of pleasure from his throat. They grew and filled his shorts, pushing the fabric higher up his legs. His ass clenched and slowly bubbled up, each bump smooth and curved and hard. Matt was staring and directing all his energy towards Wiley, but his eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. A thick wave rippled up Wiley’s backside and packed lean brawn behind his arms and all the way around his shoulders blades. His shirt stretched around the mass. Bulk filled his shoulders and spread down his arms, leaving engorged and hard muscles in its wake. His biceps twitched with strength and flowed with energy down his forearms to his fists. His hands even looked engorged, grasping his bag tighter and tighter. Suddenly, his shoulders jerked back and his chest stretched in his tank, growing into two solid and perky slabs. The motion tore a rip in the bag, but his hands stayed clutching to it. Then his entire body convulsed before falling forward into the lockers. Matt, dizzy and impassioned, tripped over to Wiley who turned over and rested his back on the lockers. Matt felt his cock twitch with recognition of the view. Wiley still looked like Wiley. His face even looked around the same age. But he was a huge Wiley, with tight thin skin and bulgingly full muscles that pressed his pulsing veins harshly to the surface. His color was a healthy tint of red; Matt could sense blood was flowing in and out of every crevice of his body and mind. It flowed fast but not too much so, like an engine revving and humming with life. “What the fuck is this shit man?” “Dude, dude we gotta go.” Blair stood staring, confused and enraged. His buddies tried hitting him, to wake him from his disbelief, but they ran off. “You okay?” Matt blathered to Wiley, who was taking deep breaths, his chest heaving up and down. It stared Matt in the face, asserting its shape through the stretched under-armor tank. Wiley merely nodded. “What happened?” a voice said. Matt turned and saw Blair looking at him. Blair took a fast step forward and grabbed Matt’s shirt, lifting him to his feet, “What did you do??” Matt just stared at him, still catching his breath, terrified and awed at what just happened. He suddenly wished he gave himself some size too. “Let go of his shirt.” Matt sucked in a breath and thought he felt Blair shudder too. The voice entered his ear and resonated through his blood, thickly to his dick, which swelled larger in his gyms shorts. Blair noticed. “What is- ? I-. I didn’t know there were two of you here, two fucking queers. Yeah, a queer lover and his perverted scamp,” Blair spat the words and shook Matt in frustration and disgust. A blurry fist whistled past Matt’s ear and struck Blair squarely on the side of the face. Blair let out a wheezing noise and fell straight to the floor. He started to pull Matt down with him, but Matt felt hands grab both his shoulders and hold him in place. Matt looked down at Blair. He was knocked-out cold. “Fuck.” The voice rumbled in Matt’s loins again and vibrated in his hardening nipples. He raised an eyebrow and grinned, enjoying the sensation. “Matt?” He turned to face Wiley, and suddenly his dick was a steel rod. Wiley was standing directly in front of Matt. Where once Matt was a half head taller than Wiley, they now stood practically eye-to-eye. Wiley seemed to have the slight edge, and his body was packed with hard bulges of muscles and thick tendons. All of them were flexing. His sleeveless tank clung to his chest and his rocky stomach, which moved in and out with slow, measured breaths. He stood there with clenched fists poised to fight and wide eyes. Crap, Matt’s mouth dropped open, I turned him into a god! Not a nerd, but Wiley: the God! Wiley: the Masterpiece!! Matt knew he’d done impressive Morphology in the past, but never on a human. Never something like this. Matt smiled and put his hands up in reassurance, “Everything’s okay.” Wiley didn’t budge, except for turning his fist a little more towards Matt’s direction. There wasn’t much space between them. He clenched his jaw and it was handsome and terrifying. “He was right, what did you do?” Wiley’s eyes glared at him now, but Matt barely registered it. He was too distracted by the sound of his voice. It was Wiley’s, but it rang deeper and commanding. It was as if his vocal chords were slowly, roughly rubbing together and resonating the sound of manhood and sex through the air. It rang out again, concerned: “Is he okay?” Matt shook from his trance. Wiley was glancing nervously around Matt’s shoulder. Matt turned to look and saw Blair lying still on the ground like stone, “I don’t know. You punched him,” he turned back, shrugging. “Do you think you broke anything?” “No. Maybe? I haven’t punched someone before!” “Well, you did a pretty good job…” “How are you so calm about this, dude?” Wiley yelped. Matt heard something desperate amongst the dick-throbbing sounds of his voice. Wiley’s head ticked to the side and back, and individual muscles twitched and bulged. “I’m freaking out here man,” he twitched again and his eyes closed, “I can feel... Fucking everything. I can feel every inch, every microscopic spot on my skin pulled tight over everything.” He grunted, still twitching but somehow more intentionally, stretching and flexing. His neck craned to the side and his traps bulged. Matt grunted with him. He couldn’t stop himself, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Wiley wriggled around in his body. His brow was furrowed still very seriously, but now with a touch of curiosity. “And underneath,” he tensed everything. Things rippled. “I can feel all the blood flowing through,” he breathed in sharply, “flowing and filling up…” He bent his arms and brought his fists up to his shoulders, scrunching his biceps into baseballs. He lowered his arms, grunting, and did it again. And again. He was pumping his arms, but Matt thought he saw all of his muscles tense and squeeze, not just his biceps. Like his muscles were taking a breath each time he pumped his arms. “I can feel every string and cell busting at the seems. I feel… Full.” “You look it.” Wiley’s eyes shot open and looked right at Matt. He stopped moving, but remained flexed and tensed. Matt sighed, “Listen, Blair was being a douche. He was gonna beat on you, and then he was gonna beat on me, so… We beat on him together.” Wiley lowered his arms, relaxing, “We?” Matt gave a shaky nod and a knowing look and awkwardly gestured towards all of the muscles. Wiley hesitated, glancing down at his fists and pumped arms and stretched clothing. His shorts hugged his legs and did nothing but accentuate the throbbing bulge that came to life. He squirmed awkwardly, “So…” “So, I did all of that to you. The arms, the chest, the height, the dick apparently, the voice– “ “The punch?” “No, my friend. That was you. Let’s say I gave you the tools. You hammered in the nails, hard! Just in time to save me, too!” Wiley narrowed his eyes, making a connection, “You’re a Mystic. Aren’t you?” Matt searched for words. All that came was, “Well… Err, yeah.” “But I’ve known you since like fourth grade!” “Yeah, well, we keep to ourselves.” Wiley scrunched his eyebrows, remembering something, “We played video games together.” “Yeah, so?” “Do Mystics play video games?” Matt chuckled, “We’re not Amish, dude. We just cast spells. We don’t forego technology and other earthly desires. I don’t at least.” Wiley smiled, and it punched Matt in the heart. It faded as he looked back down at himself. He was finally relaxed, but everything still bulged. Not like a roided out body-builder, but like a meaty high-school wrestler whose skin was suctioned on and muscles were bulging to their largest capacity. Like he could dominate as a junior Olympian, or maybe as a new recruit in the real thing. He was in perfect Wiley physical condition. He placed his palms on his stomach and felt its bumps under his shirt. He slid his palms up his body and wrapped his paws around his meaty, ballooned pecs. “I’ve never seen someone spell something like this before.” Neither have I. “I don’t have much experience on humans. Though, you came out pretty damn well.” Wiley looked up at Matt and smiled again, “Well, what’d you actually do to me?” Good question. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. I didn’t spell anything specific, just pushed everything I had at you. I’m pretty naturally gifted in Morphology, so…” Wiley’s hands wandered to his butt and he squeezed it, “It all feels so real.” “It is.” “It actually feels like I’ve worked these to death for years,” he cupped a bicep with his hand as he flexed it, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” And then he was moaning, and feeling all the bumps and valleys that stretched out of his skin. His thumbs felt his nipples and his body shuddered at the touch. His fingers traced the spaces between his abs right down to the thick bulge in his shorts. He hesitated and then grabbed the whole thing with one large hand. He squeezed and lifted his chin up as he growled. “Fuck, “ he put his other hand behind his head and just stood there, lathering himself in the sensation of his own touch. Matt had never been more turned on in his life. He’d only just realized he was gay recently. He hadn’t had time to have any experience or even figure out what he liked. Although in this moment, he could tell he liked Wiley. Especially with how close he was; the way everything looked crafted to perfection, his skin smooth over hard bulges of strength, his open mouth releasing grunts that tingled Matt’s neck hairs and nipples, his handsome face and prominent jawline. He exuded confidence. He exuded manliness. It was as if his entire body was erect and juiced in swimming masculine energy. Like he could do anything. And feel anything. Matt felt a groan leave his own throat as his hand sheepishly fingered at his dick through his pants. Wiley opened his eyes and grinned at him. “This is a strange side effect.” Matt froze. “Don’t stop... I like that you like it,” Wiley squeezed his bulge again. He bit his lower lip and squinted his eyes that stared at Matt. Matt hesitated, “You said you weren’t gay?” “I don’t give a fuck about that. Right now, I like that you like it. You’re turned on by what you made. A mad scientist gazing on his Frankenstein, and you even come complete with the messy hair and spectacles. Not to mention the cute, well-meaning expression on your face. It’s sexy.” Wiley’s eyes gazed intensely into Matt’s. Matt was stunned, hand still on his dick. He readjusted his glasses reflexively and stammered through his thoughts. “You’re too pretty to be Frankenstein,” he said quietly. Wiley’s laugh rumbled soft and deep. “You might as well admit it, you’ve made a monster,” he whispered back, his face very close to Matt’s. Matt shook his head and grinned slyly. “I’ve made such a fucking man.” Their faces were inches away. They were both taking soft and shallow breaths, staring each other down with evident hunger. “Touch it,” Wiley breathed. Matt glanced down, “Touch what?” “Any of it.” The words whispered into his ear. His dick dinged to life again and he felt compelled to take Wiley up on the offer. Wiley closed his eyes, brows up expectantly. Matt didn’t know where to begin. He wanted to touch all of it. Was there a weird place to touch him? There couldn’t be. But, did he say what he said but meant something else? Was Matt supposed to default to something? Was Matt supposed to suck his dick? Wiley peeked an eye open, “There a problem?” Matt sighed and gave a smile like a shrug, “Yes, I think too much.” Wiley smirked. He snatched one of Matt’s hands and placed it on a pec. It was plump and heavy, even through the stretched material. Matt groaned. He squeezed it and felt the rock underneath and traced his thumb down to Wiley’s hard nipple. Wiley made a shuddery, grumbly noise. “Ooh, my god.” Matt smiled, “Feels good?” “You have no idea,” Wiley grinned. Matt put his other hand on the other pec and gave another good squeeze. He was enthralled by them: their shape, their size, and their weight, how he could sense the power and strength underneath. Matt wondered what it must feel like to feel that power, to sense the weight of your body and its capability. “Damn,” Matt whispered. A strange sort of lust was taking over him. He felt it everywhere, filling his heart and his stomach, and his head and his dick, a feeling of raw tension. He was deeply attracted to Wiley, immensely attracted. He wanted to feel Wiley’s entire body under his hands and smash his lips against his own and also figure out something to do with his dick, cause he had an impulse to move his hips towards Wiley’s and rub their clearly equally throbbing erections together. But there was another feeling. It made him hesitate and his body tense. He stopped squeezing Wiley’s chest and looked up at his face. His eyes were still closed on his handsome face, lost in a world of pleasure. Matt spread his fingers out and slowly ran his hands over Wiley’s chest to his shoulders and down his arms. Matt’s fingers latched onto Wiley’s triceps, and his thumbs could barely fit around his biceps. Matt tightened his grip and growled. He lifted Wiley’s shirt and moved his hands over Wiley’s abs with an unbreakable focus. He traced his fingers along the hard bumps, admiring how they crushed together to make an impenetrable wall over his stomach. His hands wandered around Wiley’s hips and found the two smooth bumps of his ass. Matt squeezed his fingers around the meat and both he and Wiley moaned. With some awkward effort, Matt shimmied his hips closer to Wiley’s. Despite his blatant urge to be forceful, he was still tentative and hesitant. He was confused by his thoughts. Standing there clutching Wiley’s muscled ass, Matt couldn’t figure out if he liked it cause it was there and it was Wiley’s, or if it was cause he wanted it for himself. He realized the deep lust he felt was getting infected with a bubbling envy. The mixture of hormones and emotions intoxicated his brain, and he mindlessly thrust his groin at Wiley’s groin and rubbed and squeezed and thrust and moaned. Wiley growled right along with him, and put his own hands around Matt’s average but eager ass, grasping on to the material of his basketball shorts. Both of their eyes opened and focused on each other. They stood, their hips locked together, swaying and rubbing to a gentle rhythm. “Wow,” Wiley growled. He put his forehead on Matt’s, “What a sexy mad scientist you are.” “I think this magic’s more of an art than a science,” Matt smiled, “At this point, it’s definitely not precise enough.” “Fine, crazy artist it is,” Wiley laughed. Matt felt the rumble come from Wiley’s chest and cascade down his torso. It sizzled at their groins and fireworks blasted in Matt’s mind. “And you’re a masterpiece,” Matt whispered, massaging his fingers on Wiley’s ass. Their dicks pressed together like hot metal iron rods. Matt thought about the magic that created this moment. It wasn’t anything he learned or calculated. It was fueled by his emotion and passion and steered by his will and, apparently, powerful enough to transform Wiley into the meathead that was currently doing very well in a game of swordfight between Matt’s and his dicks. He was thick and solid and powerful, and so fucking attractive. Matt wanted all of him. He wanted him there, attached to him, pressing their bodies into one, on top of him, around him, sharing every inch of each other. He wanted to feel Wiley and to feel what Wiley felt. And he wanted to feel thick and solid and powerful, too. He wanted to know what his body was capable of, and what he was capable of. Matt and Wiley moaned. Then, Matt gasped. He was breathing in steady, shallow breathes and electricity sparkled in his groin. One spark sputtered down to his toes and another went up and into his brain, both of them zapping pleasure around everywhere. It flashed images in his mind of himself with Wiley, both looking like men: scruff on their face, youth in their eyes, strength permeating their very veins. But no, they weren’t just images in his mind; That man existed. Matt could feel he was real. He could feel the power within his bones, and could feel as it flooded the spaces throughout his body, instantly and completely understanding what Wiley meant by his body feeling full. The energy escaped through his every pore and flashed brilliantly around him, his body suddenly heavy, steaming with sweat and magic, his clothes pulled tight and damp around his thighs, and his ass, and his chest, and his arms, and his shoulders, and behind his shoulder, and below that on his back, and everywhere that wasn’t his, apparently flat and hard, stomach. Wiley groaned, and Matt opened his eyes. At first it looked like Wiley was flexing all of his body extremely hard, but Matt realized his arms were too thick, his chest was too giant, and his shoulders were too wide for him to be the same size as before. Matt grew him… again. Matt heard another groan behind him. He spun his head around to see Blair grumbling on the ground still asleep. He didn’t seem injured at all, but there was no mistaking the body on the ground now was larger than it was before, and it wasn’t too small to begin with. All Matt could see was a tremendous butt, a set of thick and round thighs, two slabs of a backside, and full and meaty triceps. On second thought, he decided he could see a good deal. “What’s happened?” Matt’s face flushed. The tone of his voice rang deeper and echoed in Matt’s body even longer than before. He turned his head back and saw Wiley looking confused and earnest and full of lust. He was fucking handsome as ever, peering into Matt’s eyes. Even his jaw muscle looked like it had gained size, giving a manly square look to match the stubble that dusted his face. Matt smiled and shrugged heavy shoulders. He adjusted his glasses and felt his own stubble rub against his hand. “I’ve done it again,” he put simply. Matt felt his own voice rumble from his chest. He was turned on to feel its power vibrate through his body’s bulk. He felt his hard nipples rub against the material of the Tweeding jersey and he rolled his eyes at the sensation. It felt amazing to be so big, to feel all his bulk bulging out of his old jersey. He was practically bursting through it. His pecs sprang hard and round from his chest, and they felt full and alive. His sleeves fought hard against his arms, the bulging bits of muscle all contending for a spot to be seen. His shoulders were broad and Matt stood there like they were always supposed to be like that. The maroon of the Hudson Valley Bulls was everywhere, conformed to the shape of his body. Matt’s basketball shorts were practically disappearing under the onslaught of magical muscle growth. Matt had always possessed strong, decent sized legs, so after the blast they inflated into bulging masses of brawn. His shorts stretched and scrunched around his wide thighs and achingly bulbous ass. Matt tried to feel the weight of his entire body and breathed in the sensation. Then he flexed everything and felt energy and blood rush into it all. It felt like he had been upgraded. Or that he evolved into a more powerful form. Everything was him but different, larger and capable of more. Wiley was having trouble speaking, looking, and feeling at the same time, “You did it again, but this is different. This is you, too… You’re… You’ve transformed into your superhero persona!” The two of them laughed together, sounding like rumbles of happiness. “I think you better take a look at yourself too, Superman. You’ve got a little more size going on there,” Matt bit his lip, looking at all of Wiley reluctantly. Wiley followed Matt’s gaze and his mouth dropped open, “Sorry if you didn’t want it, I told you this magic was erratic, and I didn’t even know I was casting anything at the time…” Wiley sputtered as he took in his size, “You- You didn’t say anything about it b-being erratic. M-maybe imprecise, but not erratic, not like this! I’m fucking huge, dude!” He indeed was fucking huge. The magic that transformed Matt must’ve blasted out like a bomb, with Wiley in direct line of fire, and Blair not too far from it, and now they were all huge. From what he could see, it didn’t seem like any of Matt’s limbs changed length after the blast, though. So it wasn’t surprising to see that Wiley’s arms and legs hadn’t extended like they had the first time. Instead, each of Wiley’s muscles had simply inflated larger, bulkier, and brawnier. They had already been the size of a high school All-star’s, but now they looked like the broad and gritty muscles of a Tweeding pro-athlete, or even more like an ancient warrior from Merlin’s time. They looked experienced and they oozed raw strength. Everything rippled and bunched together. Each cable of amplified beef was grown by magic, and hummed with pure strength and hungered for action. Wiley was too distracted for action though. He tried cupping his mammoth pecs, but his paws weren’t big enough. Instead he ran them all along his body, loving the way his under armor tank clung to him like a second skin. He could even trace his abs bulging through the material. “I’m not sure I can face my parents like this, but… Damn, dude. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I like it at least a little,” Wiley grinned and winked at Matt before striking a double biceps pose. It was all so sudden. His arms bunched up into softballs, his forearms thick and throbbing, his chest raised proudly in the air, and newly widened lats sprang up under his arms. Matt caught himself drooling. “It’s unreal,” Wiley relaxed and reflexed multiple times, “It’s fucking unbelievable.” Matt felt a growl escape from his chest. Wiley turned his head to him, eyes piercing. He reciprocated a snarl and showed some canine teeth, his arms still raised and bulging at his sides. Matt nudged his face into Wiley’s neck and Wiley rubbed his stubble on to Matt’s cheek. Then Wiley’s thick arms wrapped around Matt’s body. His hands clutched the new ripples of beef that bulged from Matt’s back. Matt groaned and pushed the muscled nerd into the lockers. His glasses fell to the floor and he kicked them roughly away to avoid stepping on them. Matt felt an impulse take over, an animal within him awaken. He could tell magic was bubbling in him again; the feeling seemed so obviously distinct now. Matt’s shorts were so scrunched up that he wrapped his practically bare legs around the outside of Wiley’s thick trunks. He planted his feet firmly to the ground, clenching his ass for support. Their hips came together like magnets, like their dicks really were metal and had to rub against each other by the order of the laws of physics themselves. Matt didn’t know how it all worked; He hadn’t taken Mystiphysics classes yet. The cobble stone roads on their stomachs rubbed against each other and as they both moaned, Matt raised his hand behind Wiley’s head and smashed their lips together. Wiley urgently tightened his embrace and Matt grumbled like a dog. Suddenly, a monstrous groan echoed through the locker room. Matt and Wiley stopped mid-snog. Their breathing was heavy and their bodies stuck together. Movement from the corner of both their eyes caught their attentions. They sprang apart and faced the figure on the ground with a fighting stance. Their mouths dropped open immediately. Blair was on his hands and knees, attempting to get up, and his ass was facing directly at the two nerds. An enormous and glorious ass. Blair hadn’t changed into any gym clothes yet, so his hot-air ballooned glutes fought with all their might to be seen in his denim jeans. His thighs too were bulging tightly, his entire legs thick with exploded muscle. Matt sighed, breathing out more contradicting emotions than he could count, “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Blair groaned again, stirring from a moment’s rest. He shuffled one foot underneath his heavy body. Then another. Now his butt was really sticking in the air. He let out a grumbling and hissing noise as he pushed himself off the ground and straightened his back. He clearly was dizzy from the punch and from getting knocked out, but he also looked… Uncomfortable. His collared shirt wrapped around bulges of contorted muscle. His arms stretched his short sleeves to an aching extent; Matt could tell they hung on by a thread. It was Blair’s slanted shoulders and shifting backside that kept Matt’s attention, though. Blair grumbled, annoyed like a sleeping bear. Suddenly there was a Pop! Matt flinched but saw Blair’s collar flick and a shiny button fling to the side. It crashed into a locker and sent an echo through the room. Blair froze, looking down at his chest. Like he’d waken up from a nightmare and was smashed in the face by a fucking amazing surprise. A grumble came soft and low from Blair. In a split-second crescendo it became a roar as he forced his shoulders back, sticking them out wide and proud. A pair of buttons smacked the lockers in a clanging duet. His arms ripped through the threads of his sleeves, and his legs followed with long tears in his jeans by his thighs. Blair let out a pleased grunt, like he was breathing properly for the first time. Matt didn’t blame him for his discomfort. He made a mental note that it was lucky he was wearing decently stretchable clothing. Matt wondered how to best approach this situation, what with the high-school hulk being prone to anger and all. “G’morning douchewad!” Matt’s eyes went wide for a moment and he glanced nervously at Wiley before turning to watch the brute react. “What are you doing?!” Matt whispered harshly. “I’m fucking with him.” “He’s huge! Why do you want to fuck with him?” Wiley smirked, “Cause he’s huge and I wanna fuck with him…” In a daze, Blair turned his hulking mass around. Matt allowed himself to close his eyes and breath. His fear dissipated immediately. “You both want to explain this?” Matt’s eyes bolted open and feasted on the speaker. His tongue salivated. Indeed, Blair was the Blonde Brute. He was tall before and he was tall now. His muscles looked like bulges of marble, inflated from the inside like blown glass would be. His shoulders made no contest of the tattered sleeves of his shirt and were as bold and mighty as the biceps that bulged from his arms. His chest rippled in the shadows of his torn open shirt. The boulders that were now his abdominal muscles made occasional appearance over his highest surviving button. His size was astounding. His bright colored eyes pierced from the face of Prince Charming, dimple and all. Most lovely was the night stick Blair was apparently keeping tucked in his jeans. It was quite thick, and long. Matt narrowed his eyes. And it was clearly hard and erect. “You got pulled into some magic. You’re welcome,” Wiley played confidently. Matt elbowed him. Blair closed his own eyes and tensed his body. Everything bulged. “This is some fucked with magic,” his smooth voice was accusing and yet… “I exploded,” Matt felt Blair’s gaze on him, “I- I mean, my magic exploded. Everywhere. I don’t really know what happened.” “Well you better figure it out and undo it! People are gonna think I juiced up. There’s no way this is allowed in a Division I school.” “Oh, don’t worry, it’s not like it’s a chemical. It’s probably undetectable!” Wiley slipped in. “Ere…” Matt grumbled. “Also, don’t even try to lie about liking it. I see that bulge in your pants…” Matt was stunned. Wiley was being so forward. Matt watched Blair’s face redden. “It’s okay, our dicks have been going for a while now too,” Matt offered, unsure if Wiley upset him. Another rumble sounded low in Blair. He took deep breaths through his nose. His hands suddenly grabbed the open sides of his shirt and mercilessly tore through the rest of the buttons and ripped the threads cleanly from his bulging body. His fingers found the tears in his jeans and nudged inside for a proper grip. Then, denim was flying everywhere and Blair’s legs were released from their restraints. He looked hand-crafted by an artisan sculpture. He looked like a classic representation of Zeus. Only younger. In his true prime. Blair groaned and ripped the last of the clothes from his body. His underwear flew and hit Wiley in the face. Matt chuckled at him, however briefly, before the sausage log of meat flopped out hard before them all. Blair merely roared and thick streams of cum sprang from his cock. The vibration sent both Wiley and Matt into uncontrollable orgasmic bliss. Their crotches filled with hot cream as the first jet of Blair’s shot hit the lockers with a bang. The second sailed through the air and hit Matt straight in the eye. “Agh! Wh-? Mm…” Matt tasted the cum and he felt it reinvigorate him. Blood rushed through his cock and his muscles and sent his body practically convulsing into further orgasm. And then it was over. The three of them there, and all that could be heard was the sound of their desperate gasps of relief. Matt stood hunched over, his hands on his knees. His mind was scrambled and he just focused on counting his breathing. In: One… Two… Three… Four… Out: One… Two- The locker room door slammed open and Matt could feel the shuffling of many heavy steps. “AlRIGHT boys. This ain’t funny. First you were late to class, and now I don’t know what pranks you’re trying to pull-.” Matt straightened up just in time to watch Mr. Royce turn the corner with the entirety of their male gym class in tow. It took Matt a moment before he realized: They were all bigger. Fuck. Mr. Royce crossed thick arms over his plump chest and tried not to look incapacitated when he noticed Blair immediately. Sanjay and Jonah stood behind Mr. Royce. Their muscles were pumped like they just finished a week-long work out. They clearly hadn’t grown as much as they would’ve had they been closer to the epicenter of the explosion, but they were pressing through their shirts impressively. The rest of the class stood behind them. And it was a wall of beef. No t-shirt was left un-stretched, no jaw left un-chiseled. Chandler Rocklin was thick and menacing in his polo shirt. Jimmy Nader busted his bicep through his long sleeve. Chase Newton was fucking sexy as fuck now that he had some meat on his bones. Matt stared in disbelief. What kind of fucking magician am I? “Well? Can any of you speak? Callum, put some clothes on...” Mr. Royce was struggling to maintain composure, but sounded authoritative enough. Wiley glanced down at the gym teacher’s crotch and smirked. “You sure you want him to do that?”
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