Date: Sun, 09 Feb 2003 16:37:10 -0700
From: Dream Spinner <authorsix@hotmail.com>
Subject: "The Aesir, The Vanir And The Brewsters" (t/t, incest, Norse gods)

Caution/Welcome.  This is a story involving three brothers, one
fifteen-year-old and two seventeen-year-old twins, who help their
thirteen-year-old kid brother with his history assignment, and at the same
time change the course of history, enrich the Norse pantheon, and help some
very macho and violent he-men have a better understanding of their feminine
side.
  This story is posted at free gay story sites for adult entertainment
only.  Permission is not given to copy electronically nor in any other form
for the purpose of redistribution or posting at sites other than those
described here.  This is the forty-fifth story in the Brewster boys special
events and myths series.  The Brewsters would like to remind everyone to
always carry a pack of condoms, even when doing your homework.  You never
can tell when you might need them.  Praise, mead, horny young Vikings, and
story ideas can be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson at
authorsix@hotmail.com

		  THE AESIR, THE VANIR, AND THE BREWSTERS

			 PART ONE: THE ASSIGNMENT

     "Bobby," called Benny for the third time.  "Hey, Bobby!"  His kid
brother did not even look up from whatever it was that he was doing at his
desk in the bedroom the four brothers shared, nor miss a stroke as he
slowly and absentmindedly tugged on his dick through his cargo zip-offs.
     "Hey, Bobby, wanna take a break and ride my dick?"
     "Not right now," Bobby replied as he continued writing.
     Benny and his two older brothers stared at Bobby sitting there with
his tongue pressed between his lips in concentration, looked at each other,
and then back at their kid brother.  "Okay," said Benny in a threatening
voice as he placed his hand on Bobby's shoulder, "whoever or whatever you
are, you better tell us what you did with the real Bobby Brewster or we're
gonna take you to our mom and dad."
     "Yeah, and they're gonna be plenty mad to find out their fourth oldest
has been replaced by some alien," observed Brent.
     Bobby's three older brothers glanced at each other.  "Well, maybe
not," they chorused with huge grins.
     "Very funny," Bobby finally responded, finally looking up at his three
brothers.
     "What are you working on so hard anyway?"
     "My history assignment."
     "I never had no homework that got me horny," observed Brett, looking
at the bulge in his kid brother's zip-offs.
     "Everything gets Bobby horny," observed his twin brother Brent.
     "Yeah, pens . . .  ," began Benny.
     "The holes in three-ring looseleaf . . . ," continued Brett.
     "The letters of the alphabet . . . ," Brent observed.
     "Sniffing white-out ," Benny added.
     "Fuck you," responded Bobby, giving his three brothers the finger.
     "Especially thinking about that," chorused his three brothers.
     "Now you've gone and ruined my concentration," Bobby groused with a
scowl, but they knew he was not serious.
     "You're really getting into this report on the Ming Dynasty," Brett
observed.
     "Me an' Jung decided not to do a report on them."
     "How come?"
     "Whenever we got together to work on the project, we got distracted by
other stuff," Bobby said with a leer and a twinkle in his hazel eyes, and
though he never had said just what he and Jung did in their more and more
frequent visits, his three brothers had a pretty good idea.
     "Well, going back to your first idea about doing a report on Ancient
Greece explains the tugging on your boner," observed Brett.
     "I'm not doing that either."
     "Why not?"
     "My mind kept wandering," Bobby said, and the look on his face and
knowing their kid brother, they did not have to ask where it had been
wandering.  After their experience in Greece this past summer, his three
brothers had on more than one occasion reminisced about that adventure,
which invariably ended in a hot jack off session.
     "So what ancient culture did you decide to do a report on?"
     "The Vikings."
     "The Vikings?" his three brothers asked in surprise.  "Why the
Vikings?"
     Bobby rummaged through the clutter of paper on his desk and the floor
surrounding his chair.  "Because of this," he explained, finding a page and
handing it to Benny.  "And this," he continued, finding another page in the
mess of paper, "and this."  The three brothers looked at the pictures of
naked, beefy men in horned helmets and not much else with huge, dripping
cocks, wielding huge swords and scowling at each other.  "Ain't they
fuckin' awesome?" Bobby asked.  "I wished I lived in their time.  Can you
imagine surrounded all day by half-naked guys with cocks that size?"
     "Ah, Bobby, where did you find these pictures?"
     "Off this wicked site I found on the Internet when I did a Google
search for Vikings."
     "This isn't what real Vikings looked like or did," observed Brett.
     "What do you mean?"
     "I mean these are from a gay porn comic site."
     "They are?"
     "You weren't going to include these pictures in your school report
were you?"
     "Sure.  In the section about pillagin', plunderin' and rapin'."
     "Well, if anything, it would have shocked Mister Saultiere."
     "I figured maybe he'd like to keep me after class to talk about it,"
Bobby observed with a twinkle in his eyes.  "There's nothing hotter than a
horny teacher.  Well, except maybe a horny fireman, or a horny baker, or a
horny accountant ."
     "We forgot to mention those in our list of what turns him on,"
interrupted Benny, looking at his brothers seriously.
     "They were going to be the next things I mentioned," observed Brent,
playing along.
     "Anyway, you can't use these," observed Brett, chuckling at his
younger brother's joke.  "These are fiction, and your report has to be
facts.  That's what will get you the marks."  He and his two brothers had
gone through Mister Saultiere's History class and knew what he expected.
     "But I found it on the Internet.  You sure it's not true?"
     "Not everything on the Internet is fact, or the truth.  In fact a lot
of it ain't."
     "Oh maaannnnn!  You mean I gotta go through all this fuckin' stuff and
find out what's true and what's not, and rewrite all this fuckin' stuff!"
     "Right."
     "Oh maaaaannnnnn!  You know how much fuckin' work that's gonna be?"
     "Well, if you want a good mark, you got no choice."
     Despite his mischievousness, Bobby was a good student, and wanted to
do well.  He knew what he had to do, and the long hours that lay ahead.
     "Well, there could be an easier and faster way to get the real facts
than rereading everything and doing more research," observed Benny
hesitantly.
     "Yeah?" responded Bobby, quickly brightening up.  He was willing to do
anything if it meant getting out of having to do a pile of more work.  He
was a good student, not a nerd.  "How?"
     "We could go back in time to when Vikings lived and observe them first
hand."
     "How we gonna do that?" asked Brent.
     "You been wanking too much again," observed Brett, shaking his head as
he looked at his fifteen-year-old brother.  "Talk about not knowing reality
from fiction."
     "And I remember when our dear brother was sane, before he discovered
wanking," observed Brent sadly.
     "Benny was once sane?" asked Bobby in mock surprise.
     "You want my help or not?"
     "Sorry.  Of course," Bobby replied quickly.  "So what you talking
about?"
     "The spell book," he observed as he twisted the corner of his mouth
with impatience, it being his turn to look at his brothers as if they were
simple-minded.  He was referring to the wizard book that the boys had
gotten possession of one exciting Halloween night several years ago.
     "Good idea, but it might not have such a spell," observed Brett.
     "It does."
     "How do you know?"
     "I looked for it," Benny confessed.  His three brothers looked at him
quizzically.  "I found a reference to a time travel spell, but I never had
time to read it."  His brothers continued to just sit and look at him and
he knew they would not let up until he elaborated.  "I was wondering if it
was possible . . .  to go back in time . . .  like during Alexander the
Great's time just for example."  Ever since the boys had learned that
Alexander the Great loved boys as well as women, and maybe even better,
they all had fantasized about what it would be like to live during his
time, and to have known him personally.  That had also usually ended in a
hot wanking session.
     The boys looked at each other.  "So what do you say?" asked Bobby.
     "Why not?" said Brett with a shrug.  "I got nothing special planned
for tonight."
     "You mean all of us will try it?"
     "Maybe the guys in that porn comic aren't that far off," Benny
observed with a grin and a hopeful sparkle in his hazel eyes, explaining
his reason.
     "It sure beats doing algebra homework," observed Brent.
     "Well, I don't know about that," Brett responded, mathematics and
science being two of his favourite subjects in school.
     "You gotta be kidding."
     "Hey, math can be fascinating."
     "But as fa ."
     "Guys, can we get back to my problem?" interrupted Bobby.
     "Which one of them?" asked Brett with a grin.
     "I'll get the book."  Brent got up from his desk where he'd been
working on his own homework, as had been Benny and Brett at theirs, and
walked over to the bookcase the boys shared.
     "I hope the spell don't need a bunch of weird stuff, like newt's eye
and bat's blood," commented Benny.
     "If we need a bat we can phone the De Cazale brothers," observed Bobby
seriously, referring to his suspicion that the family were vampires from
what he'd observed them doing during the band and travel club's Oktoberfest
trip.
     The spell did not need anything as exotic as Benny had feared.  An
eagle feather, which Brent had as a gift from Billy's father, a candle
which he also had as a gift from his brothers, an hourglass, for which the
boys substituted an egg timer their grandmother had given their mother, and
a grounding stone, which of course Brent had, were the only required tools.
Clearing a circle and marking a pentangle in the middle with the tip of the
athane Billy had given him, Brent, knowing more about spells than his
brothers and being a follower of the ancient crafts for almost a year and a
half now, lead the ceremony.
     The four brothers lay on the floor in their room within the invisible
circle and concentrated on Brent's words and the symbols of time.  "Spirits
of Time, hear our plea.  Muse of History, Muse of Destiny, Guardians of the
Past, hear our plea.  All-knowing and all-seeing Norns, guide our passage
and hear our plea. . . ."  The boys concentrated harder as they formed a
picture of where they wanted to go, one of the illustrations from one of
the web pages Bobby had printed off.  "Iolair, Guardian spirts of
travellers, protect us. . . ."  As Brent chanted the foreign words in the
text everything around them began to fade, and then to spin, and the faster
it spun the darker it got.  They reached out for each other and grasped
each other's hands.  It was exciting, and frightening, and as they began to
get dizzy they grasped hands even tighter in a bond of brotherly support.
They seemed to be the ones spinning now, faster and faster, rising up and
floating in the air and in the dark, and just as they felt they were about
to pass out from dizziness, they felt themselves falling farther and
farther, faster and faster, as if into a deep black pit, and finally
landing on something solid with a thump.
     Three things immediately struck them.  Wherever they were, it was
bright, exceedingly, blindingly bright, and dazzling white.  Second, it was
also cold, icy, bone-chilling cold.  Third, and most important of all,
wherever they were, it was also in the middle of a fierce battle.  A giant
of a man, at least six-foot six and two hundred and sixty pounds, all
muscle, with wild, frizzy hair, moustache and beard, frothing at the mouth
and with fierce, blazing eyes, was holding a blood- stained sword in the
air and about to swing it downward at Brent.  Brett did the first thing
that came to his mind to save his brother, he picked up a helmet, which
seemed exceedingly heavy for a healthy, fit seventeen-year-old boy, and
tossed it at the tattooed, fierce warrior as he yelled, "here, catch!"
     The blade descended, not at Brent, but at the helmet, striking it with
the flat blade and sending it sailing back at Brett like a baseball hit
dead-on by a batter.  Brett discovered why the helmet had seemed so heavy,
and the phrase dead-on took on a new meaning for the seventeen- year-old
high school student.  The head that the helmet was on was still inside it,
wide-eyed and dripping blood.  "Ahhggghh!" he screamed in disgust, grabbing
it with his fingertips and immediately tossing it away from him.
     "Eeewwwwhhhh!" responded Brent as the severed head sailed toward him.
Splattering his short-sleeved shirt with blood as he grabbed it, the high
school basketball player wrinkled up his nose as he quickly tossed it
aside, sending it back toward the warrior with the blood-stained sword.  A
fierce-looking red-haired warrior standing between the two boys and just
behind them and who had been engaged in a sword fight with the other
warrior at the time of the arrival of the twins, took advantage of the
distraction and stepping between the twins, thrust his sword into the chest
of his befuddled opponent.  As his hot blood sprayed the twins, they ducked
for cover behind the red-haired warrior.
     Their two brothers were having their own problems.  Being thrown to
the ground as they came out of their spin, Benny and Bobby curled into
balls and rolled with their fall.  In Benny's case he rolled right into the
feet of a warrior clad in leather armour and brandishing a broad sword,
causing the man to trip and the blade of the warrior he was battling to
swing through the air where otherwise the man's head would have been.
Bobby had similarly been thrown to the ground at the feet of a Viking
warrior towering above him.  As he saw the man's sword descending toward
him he did the only thing he could think of, he reached up and grabbed the
man between the legs and squeezed as hard as he could.
     "Ah, I don't think now's the time to be messing around, Bobby," Benny
advised as the man who'd stumbled over him regained his balance and
spinning around, slashed the throat of the warrior who otherwise would have
cut off his head moments earlier.  As the man toppled forward and directly
on top of the slender fifteen-year-old, the blade of the man whose nuts
Bobby had a hold of met the blade of his opponent with a resounding clang
of metal.  Momentarily distracted by the slim, elf-like boy dressed for the
heat of summer half laying and half kneeling in the snow and gripping his
balls in a painful, vicelike grip, he could not counter the next blow of
his opponent's sword fast enough and found his sword arm gashed from elbow
to wrist.  As he dropped his sword, Bobby grabbed it and struggled to his
feet to defend himself, glancing about and to his dismay seeing Benny
nowhere in sight.
     Warriors of both sides were momentarily distracted by the sudden
appearance of the four boys and by their strange clothing.  Wearing faded
Denver Hayes blue jeans, identical short- sleeved R and R dark-olive
Ukranian-border print shirts, and soft leather sandals, the twins caused
further distraction with their delicate, effeminate looks and flowing blond
hair.  Bolstered by his unexpected defeat of his opponent just as it looked
like he was about to be killed, the red-haired warrior charged forward as
he let out a bloodcurdling cry that caused the twins to jump in fear and
incited those about him to similarly surge into the now clearly frightened
opponents.  Carried along with the charge, and seeing the safety of being
in the middle of the sword-wielding warriors who were evidently considering
them allies, the twins glanced at each other helplessly and crossing their
fingers signalled each other good luck.
     The next twenty minutes seemed like twenty hours to the four boys as
the battle surged around them, the twins surrounded by a circle of warriors
hacking at their enemies at the forefront and Bobby standing in the middle
of the battle, struggling to lift the sword that had to weigh a ton as he
glanced about desperately for something lighter and for his older brother,
not noticing that the warriors of both sides were eyeing him suspiciously,
especially his fluffy Simba the Lion slippers, and giving him a wide berth.
Benny meanwhile had squirmed out from under the warrior who had fallen on
him, his Extreme Zone shirt and satin Adidas shorts splattered with blood,
and finding a couple daggers from the corpse, crouched there ready to
defend himself or his brother as needs be, the twins, to his dismay, having
disappeared from his sight.
     As the remaining men who'd been defending their village fled, the
attackers went on a celebration rampage, burning the thatch-roofed huts,
cutting the throats of the dying and stripping the corpses of their weapons
and warm boots, and finding the women had all fled along with the youngest
children, turning to the five living men whom they had captured.
     Tossing them to the snow-covered ground, they pinned them down and
yanked off their trousers.  Five of the bloodied warriors undid the ties of
their own trousers, and as they fell to their ankles, the men knelt behind
the five prone men and between their outspread legs.  Although they had on
occasion forced the unwilling loser of a bet or some bully to satisfy their
sexual needs, or perform some degrading act, the four brothers had never
used violence to have their way with others.  They stood there now and
stared at the five men as they forced themselves upon their five captives.
The ferocity and violence of the victory celebration was just as
frightening as the battle had been.  Having spotted each other as the
battle had come to a close, the four boys huddled together as they surveyed
the chaos around them.
     "I think I've done enough research," whispered Bobby.  "Let's just get
the fuck out of here and go back home."
     Before the boys could even begin the spell, the red-haired man who had
stepped up between the twins walked over to them, and taking out his sword,
raised it in the air.  The four boys immediately shrunk in toward each
other, Benny at the same time raising his daggers, Brent taking out his
athane which had been forgotten in its sheath strapped to his leg, Bobby
straining to lift his sword, and Brett clenching his fists and preparing to
strike out with them.
     "Hail, strange ones!" the bloodied and injured warrior called, raising
his sword in the air.  "Having saved my life, I forfeit it to you.  My fate
is yours to decide."  He dropped to his knees and knelt before the twins.
     "So do we all owe our lives to the four of you," observed another
warrior, having spotted the first and joined him.  "The success of our raid
is your doing.  Hail, strangers!"  As he dropped to his knees, several
others also stepped forward, many still cautious and suspicious, and
dropped to their knees.
     "Never have I seen the likes of such as you, nor heard of any being
described as you appear," observed the warrior who had first approached
them.  "I am Seglfjot, of the village of Sliesthorp.  What manner of elves
or sprites be you?"
     "We're, ah, well, we're, well it's . . . ," struggled Brett as he
glanced at his brothers and back at the ferocious warriors staring at him.
     An older warrior with a long, snow white beard and standing apart from
the others tossed a fine powder into the air, an action noticed by Bobby
but unseen by the rest.  The blood-soaked snow about the four boys suddenly
swirled up and around them and everything seemed to fade.  "Who are the
Wel-its?" they heard someone ask as if far, far away.  "Alcis?  What are
they?"  asked another voice, even fainter and farther way still.  As the
snow flurry that had blocked their view settled, they found themselves in
snowy meadow.  Rows of scaly, long-necked dragon heads, eyes wide and
mouths gaping and carved out of wood, marked a path to a huge, three- story
complex that looked like it had been added to by a committee of contractors
over a decade.  The sprawling mansion and several other large buildings
were surrounded by a twelve-foot high wooden fence made of upright
sharpened poles.
     "Welcome to Asgard, strange travellers," said the white-bearded
warrior, gesturing to the world around them.  "And welcome to Valaskjalf,
to my home."
     "You're Odin," Bobby observed, his eyes growing wide as he looked up
at the blood- splattered man.
     "Yes.  Now let us go in and get warm."
     "Fuck."
     "I was thinking more of a change into clothes warmed at the hearth,
and a bowl of soup," Odin replied, looking down at the strangely garbed
boy, surprised but impressed by his suggestion.
     As they trod through the deep snow, the four boys realized just how
cold they were.  By the time they reached the three-story mansion their
fingers and toes were blue and their teeth were chattering so badly they
could not speak.  Although they wanted to head straight to the first
fireplace they encountered, they were lead by a servant to a room in the
back of the building where they were told to strip off their clothes and
then taken outside through the snow buck naked to a steaming hot spring.
They were joined a few minutes later by Odin himself, by which time the
boys had sufficiently recovered to appreciate the sturdy, muscular body of
the god, his biceps and thighs thick with muscles and his broad chest
covered with a mat of white hair.  A large bush of white hairs sprouted out
above his member, a long, thick organ that swung like a snake as he walked.
As soon as Odin sat down, Bobby moved over to stand beside him.
     "So," Odin began as he looked at the four boys, "I ken that you be
human, but I have never seen any garbed as you were, nor heard any speak
with your accent.  So, who are you, and where are you from?  How did you
appear out of nowhere at Schliefstag, and what were you doing there?"  The
boys gave him their names and began speaking at once.  He immediately put
up his hand and silenced them.  "Which of you be the oldest?" he asked,
looking at the twins.
     "Guess that's me," observed Brett.  For once his brothers didn't
observe that it was because he was trying to get away from Brent's stinky
feet, or because Brent was trying to screw him in their mother's womb.
     "Then you speak."
     So Brett introduced himself, and his three brothers, and explained
where they were from, about Bobby's history class assignment, Benny's idea,
and the spell book that they were in possession of, deciding to be as vague
as he could about the latter.  It was a long story, but sitting there in
the hot tub, the boys did not mind.
     "A most amazing tale," Odin finally observed, aware of the hot young
hand that had crept up his thigh and wrapped its fingers about his still
flaccid but growing organ as he'd listened to the tale, he himself having
reached around the boy and squeezed his smooth, compact buttocks.  "But
now, let us dress and eat."
     And, Bobby hoped, something more afterward.  Their clothes had been
washed and dried, and Odin watched with interest as they put them back on,
now toasty warm from being hung over the hearth.  Wrapping himself in a
voluminous fur-trimmed fleece robe, Odin lead them to the dining hall.  It
being the dead of winter, most of the gods who resided at Asgard were
there, and they glanced curiously at the four boys as they entered with
Odin.  They looked at the boys with even more curiosity as Odin ordered
places be set for them at the foot of the long table, only very special and
honoured guests ever taking a meal with them other than on feast days, and
then usually at a separate and lower table.
     Serving boys, from a few years younger than Bobby to as old as the
twins, suddenly appeared with platters containing steaming bowls of soup,
loaves of freshly baked bread, and pitchers of ale.  They looked at Odin's
guests with even greater curiosity than had the gods, mostly because of the
unusualness of anyone sitting at the same table as the gods, and especially
anyone so young, but also because of their strange appearance, and their
fair looks.  Standing respectfully against the wall, they rushed forward to
refill tankards and soup bowls.  Normally having ravenous appetites, and
after what they'd gone through and the invigorating dip in the hot spring,
the four teenagers were able to keep up with even the gods, devouring bowl
after bowl of the beef and barley soup.  The soup was followed by platters
heaped with carved chicken and wedges of cheese, along with more bread, and
more of the strong, bitter ale, which the boys sampled with tiny sips and
which they discovered tasted better with each drink they took.
     It was not until the meal was finishing that anyone spoke.  "So,
Father, how do things fare in the world of men?" asked the man sitting to
his right, a man with fiery red hair and wearing a cloak, a kilt-like
garment, and a wide studded leather belt from which hung a massive hammer,
clearly identifying him as Thor, the God of Thunder.
     "For the most part as they should," Odin responded.  "The northern
lands are becoming filled, forcing men to battle those of the south for
food and land."
     "The winter months are good times to create new babies," observed one
of the men.
     "Any time is a good time to create new babies," observed another, and
the group of men laughed.
     "Loki can attest to that," observed one, a handsome young man with
long gorgeous hair and skin so pale it was white.  His voice dripped with
sarcasm and contempt as he glanced at the equally handsome young man with a
thick mop of tousled red hair sitting near the foot of the table.
     "And just what do you mean by that, Baldr?" asked the one who was
evidently Loki.  Baldr, Loki, Odin, the four Brewster boys felt a twinge of
excitement ripple up their spines.  These were the gods they'd read about,
real, honest to life gods!
     "There are not many of us here who can lay claim to having given
birth, and not just on a single occasion," Baldr responded, clearly there
being no love lost between the two.
     "Nor those who can claim bride hood," Loki retorted, looking
specifically at Thor.
     "It was necessary to pose as Thrym's bride to retrieve my hammer,"
snarled Thor.  "As you well know, Thrym's demand Freya marry him was the
only opening I had to enter his domain."
     "Perhaps it was necessary.  As it was necessary to flutter your eyes
at Thrym, and press your lips against his," replied Loki with an impish
grin.  "And as for openings, I suppose it was also necessary for you to lie
on your back and spread your legs ."
     "Fine talk for one who spent a dozen years in the underworld milking
she-goats like a common milkmaid and being birth-mother to any beast who
desired to plant its seed up your arse."
     The four Brewster boys glanced at each other.  Now these were tales of
the gods they had not been taught at school.
     "There are plenty here who can be accused of being ergi," Loki
retorted, glancing at several of the gods including Odin, "and more than
one who would be more comfortable sitting at the dining table at Vingolf
with the women."  More than a few of the gods bristled with the comment and
either glared at Loki or looked about with embarrassment.  Bobby and his
brothers were not sure what Loki had meant, but they got the general drift
of the insult.
     "But there is only one here who can claim to have turned himself into
a mare so as to be impregnated by a stallion," responded Odin.
     "And prevented the loss of the sun and the moon, and the Goddess
Freyja to the giant Hrimthurs" snapped Loki.
     "And in the world of men, do they still worship and revere us?" asked
one of the gods who had not yet spoken, a wise looking, older man in a fine
robe and with a stern, distinguished look about him.  He was clearly
changing the topic and averting a confrontation.
     "That, Forseti, that they still do," Odin replied, giving the God of
Judgement and Justice a smile of appreciation for his intervention.  Loki
was the least favoured of all around the table, but as his blood-brother,
he could not turn him away from his table.  "Us, and others," he observed
with a wider smile as he looked down the table at their four guests.
     "And when might we learn of these new arrivals, brother?" asked the
god sitting to Odin's left, a man whom the boys realized did resemble Odin.
     "Theirs is an interesting tale," Odin responded.  "One best heard from
their own lips."
     And so the boys retold their tale, explaining where they were from and
how men lived in this land not yet discovered, the foods they ate, the
clothes they wore, and the gods they worshipped.  They explained to the
gods the manner of conflict and war in this new world, how it was that they
had chosen to come to Schliefstag, and how they had arrived there.  This
time they told their tale with more elaboration, answering the many
questions from the gods.  For men who battled giants and the most fearsome
of monsters, who were immortal and yet subject to all the vices and
weakness of men, the mass destruction by atomic weapons, the presence of
flying machines of metal, the existence of a multitude of other religions
worshipping a multitude of other gods, the presence of vampires and
warlocks with wizard spell books, and four fresh-faced teenagers still wet
behind the ears travelling to their world did not phase them.  The buttons
on the twins' shirts, Benny's satin Adidas shorts, Bobby's fluffy Simba
slippers, and the zippers on his zip-offs and the flies of his pants and
that of his brothers were of greater amazement.
     As more ale flowed, Odin described the battle at Schliefstag, where
the men from Gwerfjord were about to be repelled when the four boys arrived
and turned the battle, the red- haired man who the twins had appeared
beside leading the charge, and his men buoyed by his burst of enthusiasm.
     "I would have thought the sudden appearance of these four would have
been foretold," observed Hoor, the blind brother of Baldr.  "It would be
wise to seek the council of a Seidhr considering all that we have been
told."  The suggestion received full agreement, and one of the serving boys
was dispatched to fetch a shaman.
     "So, what is this ergi stuff?" asked Benny, stepping up beside Loki as
he and his brothers accompanied the gods to one of the many halls in
Valaskjalf where the twelve had decided to meet the shaman.
     "An ergi is a man who is desirous of penetration, a man who is argr,
one who has submitted to another man as a woman."
     "Oh," said Bobby brightly.
     "I think that is an insult," Benny advised his kid brother before he
said something that he would regret.
     "It is."
     "What about that stuff about saving the sun and the moon?" asked
Benny, seeing the look of objection in Bobby's eyes and knowing he had
better switch topics.  When Bobby got mad, Bobby didn't care whom he was
arguing with, god or not.
     "Long ago, when the time of Gods was young, it was decided to build a
city in Vlahalla.  The giant Hrimthurs appeared in disguise and offered to
build the city in three years and for payment asked for Freyja for his wife
and the sun and the moon.  The gods agreed, if he would do it in one
winter, and alone, and to this he agreed, if his horse Svadilfara could
help.  When those who had agreed to the bargain realized they were going to
have to pay, they called upon me to help them, and so I changed myself into
a mare, and distracted Hrimthurs' horse so it did not haul stones for him
that night, and was too tired to work the next day.  Still, he was going to
succeed, so the gods called upon Thor, who killed Hrimthurs with his
hammer, and they all conveniently forgot the sacrifice I'd made for them,
even when I discovered because of by efforts I was pregnant with Sleipnir,
the eight-legged steed I later gave Odin."
     "You were screwed by a horse?" asked Bobby with wide-eyed surprise.
     "Yes, and have received no thanks for it."
     "This shape changing stuff, it hard to do?"
     "You'd have to change yourself into a girl horse," Benny whispered.
     "Oh," replied Bobby with disappointment but not with total rejection
of the idea.
     The conversation gave him and his brothers plenty to think about as
they waited with the gods for the shaman to arrive.  It was not long before
an ancient crone, bent over and leaning heavily on her distaff, was ushered
into the room.  She was wearing a deep blue cloak with a black lambskin
hood and festooned with white cat skins.  Her skin was leathery and more
wrinkled than a dried up apple.  Labouriously mounting a platform that had
been erected in the middle of the hall while they'd waited, cauldrons of
incense were lit and a dozen young boys sat below the platform and began to
sing a strange but melodic chant as several of them struck up a beat with
their drums.
     "Tell us, old crone," Odin finally said, approaching her and kneeling
respectfully, "what is the impact on our lives by the arrival of these four
boys?"
     The old hag looked at the four brothers for a long time, her steady
gaze and rheumy eyes causing them to shuffle uncomfortably.
     "You are not where you should be," she finally said, her voice old and
crackling and sounding drugged.  "Your presence here has altered the course
of history."
     "For man, or for gods?" asked Odin.
     "Both," she replied.  Slowly turning her head to look at the twins,
she explained.  "The invasion by the men of Gwerfjord was to have been
repelled this day.  Returning in defeat, Seglfjot was to have turned to the
west and given up on his forays to the south.  Instead, by your
intervention, he was successful, and will return with his plunder a revered
leader, but his celebration will be short lived.  One of those who suffered
the indignation of being an ergi this day was Bjordi, the son of the
chieftain of the Schliefstag.  He will mount an expedition that will seek
revenge, revenge that will include the death of Seglfjot before he can
beget a third son."
     "You are among the wisest of the volva, Skaga," Odin observed. "Of
what importance can the death of single man be, especially one who already
has two sons?"
     "Seglfjot is of little import in his own time, but he was destined to
beget a son whose son would beget a son who would be called Thorvald, who
in turn would beget a son, a famed leader who would have been known by
civilizations not yet born as Eric the Red, and he in turn would beget a
son by the name of Leif, who among other things, would help spread a new
religion throughout these lands."
     "Then what these boys have done is good," observed Tyr, the god of
war.
  "They have prevented the spread of this new religion which would displace
us."  He glanced at the twins appreciatively, as did several of the gods.
     "No, they have only changed the way in which the new religion will
replace the old ways.  A more violent man will introduce this new belief
and thousands will die in the name of his god, which will cause much sorrow
and angst among the people, so that they will curse the Aesir and the Vanir
and desecrate their monuments on Midgard.  Besides, among those who will be
killed in this new history are the ancestors of several who would have
promoted a thousand years from now a resurgence of worship of the Aesir and
Vanir in nations not yet born, including the land these boys are from."
     "What may be done to set the course of history on the right path
again?" asked Odin.
     "The attack by the men of Schliefstag must not succeed, and the life
of Seglfjot must not be taken.  These are the two who set these events into
action, and are the only two who can return the fate of Midgard to what was
intended before their intervention."  Odin was about to back away when the
old hag continued.  "There is more," she said, turning her gaze from the
twins to look at Benny.  "The man this one tripped, and by such saved his
life, is the man called Bjordi.  He will not rest until he has killed every
man of Gwerfjord, and the villages for a hundred furlongs on either side
along the coast, for the indignity he suffered this day.  The only way to
prevent such slaughter is to see that his initial destiny is fulfilled."
     Benny swallowed.  He'd inadvertently saved a guy's life today, and now
he was expected to see that the guy got killed as he was supposed to?  He
could hardly be his fault the guy had tripped over him.
     "And the youngest one?" asked Odin disheartened.  These boys were not
the young heros he'd assumed them to be.  They appeared to be, in fact, the
harbingers of bad times.
     "His impact will be the greatest of them all, but not because of this
day.  Nothing he has done this day will alter the course of mankind nor the
gods, but an act yet to come, in conjunction with his brothers but he being
chief among them, will change the way of the gods, and will ensure the
worship of the Aesir and Vanir will continue until the end of the world.
  But I can say no more, for there are even things my eyes cannot see, and
my mind cannot comprehend."
     That Bobby would do something the old hag could not comprehend did not
surprise Bobby's three brothers.  He often did things they did not
comprehend, and they knew their kid brother better than anyone else.  With
the old hag's predictions over, the men in the hall grew sombre with the
dire news that in five generations a new god would threaten them, and the
four brothers were sent off to bed while they pondered the situation.  Of
course the four Brewster boys were just as concerned with the news directly
involving them and in the more immediate future, and about getting back
home before their absence was discovered, but it had been a full and
exhausting day, and it was not long before they were sound asleep under the
huge goose feather comforter.  So great was their exhaustion and their
worry, that they had not even messed around with each other before drifting
off to sleep.
     They were awoken the next morning and found new clothing had been laid
out for them, breeches that resembled boxer briefs but having ties at the
waist and around the legs and being of a much coarser material, a
short-sleeved T-shirt of the same cloth, britches and an outer shirt of
deerskin, both with ties rather than buttons or zippers, and thick woolen
socks.  In the corner were huge fur-lined boots that reminded them of
mukluks worn by Eskimos and the men of the north, and heavy down filled
parkas.  Over a breakfast of boiled oats sweetened with honey, they were
told the gods' decisions.  Brent and Brett were to be taken to Gwerfjord to
warn the village of the pending invasion and to watch over Seglfjot.  Benny
was to be returned to Schliefstag where he would see to the death of
Bjordi, either by his own hands or by the hands of another.  In these
things the gods would watch but play no part, other than Odin's raven,
Hugin, who would be allowed to carry messages between the twins and Benny.
     "How many seasons have you seen?" Odin asked, turning to Bobby.
     "Huh?  Me?  Ah, I'm thirteen," he replied.  "And three months, and two
weeks."
     "Then you have not yet been made a man."
     "Ah, I guess not," he responded as he glanced at his brothers.
     "From what Skaga has said about you, if our future worship lays in
your hands, we have deemed it wise that you become a man under our eyes."
     "You wanna watch?" asked Bobby, there being only one way he could
think of that would mean he was a man, and although it was not something
he'd had any burning desire to do, it was not something he'd pass up
either.  He hoped the girl would have big boobs.
     "Yes, but not help.  It must be of your own doing," responded Odin,
further confusing Bobby.  "Besides it will occupy your mind while your
brothers are performing their duties."
     "I'd rather help them," Bobby responded honestly.
     "Very noble of you, but the decision has been made.  Now, the three of
you, go put on your winter coats and boots."  Knowing they had no choice,
the boys did as they were told.  Upon their return, Odin rose, and with a
wave of his arm, transformed himself into a giant eagle.  Picking up the
twins with one taloned claw, and Benny with the other, he flew out the
window, and in minutes had deposited them outside their respective villages
and had returned to Bobby.
     "Fuckin' wicked," the thirteen-year-old observed.  "You think you can
teach me how to do that?"

                       PART TWO: THE TEST

     As they headed toward Gwerfjord, the twins began planning just what
they would say and how they would explain how they knew about the impending
invasion.  They did not have much time, their presence soon being noticed.
Word spread rapidly about the reappearance of the two slender, long-haired
blond boys who had brought the invaders luck and victory two weeks earlier.
That two weeks had passed on Midgard while only a night had transpired in
Asgard surprised the boys, but they quickly realized that it shouldn't
have.  Time was not the same for gods.  They did wonder just what their
time spent in the past meant in terms of real time back home, but there
being nothing they could do about it at the moment, they put that problem
aside for later.
     They also discovered they need not have worried about explaining their
presence in the village nor their knowledge about the impending invasion.
Over the past two weeks word about what they'd done had spread, and as
happens to rumours, wonderfully exaggerated so that by the time they'd
returned it was the belief of those in the village that they had rallied
the invading warriors at their moment of inevitable defeat, had lead the
charge, and had killed half the villagers themselves and with their bare
hands.  Their sudden appearance and disappearance was no surprise given
they were supernatural beings, evidenced by not only their superhuman deed
but by the strange apparel they had initially appeared in, and their
strange accents.
     That they knew the name of the son of the chieftain of Schliefstag,
and that he was mounting a revenge attack on their village was only further
evidence of their powers, and that these two celestial beings had come to
warn them was only further evidence that they were blessed and that the
devoted and faithful were truly rewarded.  Had they not always been loyal
worshippers of the Sun, and of Freyr and Njord and Odin and all the others?
There were the couple of naysayers who observed that they hardly needed to
be warned to set up sentinels along the coast to watch for Bjordi's
warships considering their attack on his village and the rape of himself
and four of his villagers, but given the esteem the boys were held in, they
were ignored and the people of the village praised the two boys for their
council.
     Having played a far less dramatic role in the battle, Benny's arrival
at Schliefstag, on the other hand, went unnoticed.  With the slaughter of
most of the men in the village, the appearance of fatherless boys and the
arrival of distant relatives and enterprising young men to take over the
vacated farms and shops or to bolster the number of gathering warriors
about to set out in revenge was not unusual, and, in fact, was expected and
welcome.  With his skills in crafts, as a hobby and in scouts, Benny was
quickly enlisted as an apprentice armourer to fill in the vacancy created
with the death of the village apprentice two weeks earlier.  Of course he
did his best to dissuade the men from attacking, spreading rumours about
the strength and numbers of those they were setting off to fight, and at
the same time he tried to find out all that he could about Bjordi without
sounding like a coward and looking like a spy.  He was not very successful.
Men who have been raped or whose relatives have been murdered by a tribe of
barbarians are not so easily dissuaded, and when they are being lead by a
victim and hero of that same vicious raid, you would not expect to find any
men who would speak ill of him, never mind be willing to kill him.
     So, while the twins were treated like royalty and learned the basics
of sword fighting and the operation of a Viking warship while pretending to
be ensuring the villagers were ready for the upcoming battle, Benny found
himself on a Saxon ship heading north, sewing and tying leather armour
until his fingers were raw and helping in the galley as a scullery boy.
Despite the work and lowly position, at least he did not have to help with
the rowing, though sitting between two hot, sweating warriors stripped to
the waist, their muscles rippling with raw power and their hairy chests
beaded with sweat, did cause some moments of wishful thinking.  It was only
for a few weak moments and he soon shook his head and returned to his
duties.  He was beginning to think like his kid brother!
     Speaking of his kid brother, Bobby had also put on his boots and
winter coat with the return of Odin, and had been flown to a distant snowy
field on his back, which was an experience in itself though the
thirteen-year-old would rather have ridden him in a different position and
in a form other than an eagle.  He stood there looking up at the chief of
all the gods in Asgard with his eyes growing wider and wider as he listened
to his instructions.  "Now let me get this straight," he finally said.
"You want me to walk from here to this sea, this Enfalgrfjord, that you're
not going to tell me where it is, swim down in the icy water to the bottom
to get this big pearl out of a real live oyster, and then hike back here
with it, and that is what will make me a man?"
     "Right.  That is your challenge," Odin observed with a smile as he
transformed back into his eagle shape.
     "That isn't what the fuck I thought you meant," Bobby said quickly in
an effort to explain as Odin lifted off.  "About becoming a man," he
concluded forlornly as he watched the eagle soar up into the sky and
disappear.
     Looking about the snowy meadow surrounded on all sides by tall
snow-clad pine trees, he sighed and thought about his dilemma.  They could
have at least given him some warning.  From the mountains that he could see
above the tree tops, the land seemed to be sloping downward behind him.
The eagle had flown off to his right, which would have been the path they'd
taken to get there, and over which he hadn't seen anything like an ocean.
So, this sea had to be behind him, or to his left.  Behind him seeming the
most likely of the two choices, he turned and began to trudge through the
snow.  It was deep and soft, and well past his knees.  By the time he
reached the tree line he'd be totally exhausted for sure, if he didn't
freeze before he got there.  He frowned.  He had to have picked the Vikings
to study.  Why hadn't he picked an ancient culture in a warm climate, like
the Aztecs or ancient California surfers from the 1950's or something?
     Spotting a dead tree directly ahead, an idea came to him.  Choosing
two of the narrowest and straightest branches, he grabbed a hold of them
and broke them off with his weight. Strapping them to his boots with sinew
from his back pack, one of the few things he'd been given to take with him
and which he'd been told was spare lacing for his boots and clothes, he
picked two shorter branches and stabbed them into the snow and pushed.  He
slid forward on top of the snow.  They were not the best of skis, but they
beat walking.  He smiled.  The weekends he and his family had gone skiing
in Banff were going to pay off!  It was still cold as fuck, but at least he
was going to get to wherever he was going faster.
     He frowned as he continued on his way.  This was fucking hard work!
Next time Benny had one of his harebrained eyes about travelling to the
past, he'd stay home.  Mind you, it would be awesome to be ergi to Odin, or
to Thor, or to any of the others for that matter.  They all had to have
huge cocks.  They were gods, and Vikings besides.  With the thoughts of
Odin keeping him warm, he pushed and glided across the meadow while high
above him out of sight an eagle watched, and if it could have, would have
smiled.  He'd had a soft spot for the boy the moment he'd seen him, and was
pleased he'd had the intelligence to pick the right direction, and the
ingenuity to overcome his first difficulty, crossing the snow-covered high
meadow.  In that regard, he'd expected the boy to fasten some scrub to his
feet to make improvised snowshoes, not skis.  He wondered just what the old
hag had meant about the impact the boy would have on their worship.
     Reaching the edge of the forest, Bobby was delighted to find a path,
and that the path sloped downward.  Things were looking up!  Of course he
was not that much of an outdoors person to know the path was an animal
trial, and that animal trails twisted back and forth to follow the terrain
rather than follow a straight line.  He certainly had no idea how steep
they were.  As he began to glide down the trail he smiled happily at no
longer having to push with his arms, and even as he began to speed up he
was not overly concerned.  However, as the trail began to twist and he
found himself having to dodge trees in every direction as he flew down the
slope at breakneck speed, he was no longer so pleased with his brilliant
idea.  Nobody knows if a tree falls in the forest and there is nobody
around to hear it if it makes a noise, but had there been anyone in the
wilderness, they would have heard a boy's soprano voice screaming
"Fuuuuuaaaaaaahhhhkk!"  echoing throughout the forest and the surrounding
hills.  The eagle, by that time, had headed back to Valaskjalf and a mug of
mead.
     Spotting the coastline the morning of the fifth day at sea, Benny
approached Bjordi and told him that he had sailed this coast with his
father, and that there was an inlet four furlong south of Gwerfjord which
if they stuck close to shore they could reach unseen and then attack the
village by land, something the villagers would not be expecting. Of course
he knew about the inlet because he and the twins had been communicating by
Raven, and his brothers were at the same time warning Seglfjot of the
possibility of just such an attack, the three boys figuring with the
forewarning the men of Gwerfjord could defeat the invaders and hopefully
kill Bjordi at the same time, achieving both Benny's and the twins'
missions.
     To Benny's delight his advice was taken, but after a brief meeting
between Bjordi and the elderly man who seemed to be his chief advisor as
they approached the inlet that night, he suddenly changed his mind and the
three ships veered away from the coast and headed straight out to sea, so
far out that their movement could not be detected from the shoreline.  The
men of Gwerfjord watched in dismay from the bluffs, and hurried back to
their village expecting to be attacked the next morning, but to their
surprise, the ships did not appear.
     Bjordi's new plan, upon the recommendation of his advisor, was to
approach the village that night but to remain far enough away so as not to
be seen, and to attack the village first thing in the morning as the sun
rose and the village was waking up, it being taboo to attack at night in
that they believed if they were killed their souls could become lost in the
dark.  Discovering the plan, Benny managed to get a message off to the
twins by way of Hugin.  After the accuracy of their first warning, when the
twins told the men of the village to expect an attack the next morning
instead, no one questioned their advice, and based on their word, the men
decided to quietly row out into the sea in the dark of night in preparation
for the attack.
     So when dawn broke, the captains of the three invading ships were
surprised to see in the distance the ships from Gwerfjord also out at sea,
but far to the west of them.  Instead of heading to the village as they'd
planned, they turned and headed toward the Gwerfjord ships, which had begun
to head toward them.  As they arrived within shooting distance, the archers
from Schliefstag stood and took aim, and at the same time the Gwerfjord
ships stopped and their warriors stood in a bank at the edge of the ship,
shields raised to protect them from the rain of arrows.  That was nothing
unusual.  What was unusual was the strategy Brett had come up with, a
strategy he'd read about in a sci fi gaming book.  While they had rested
and waited in the dark of the night, he had instructed every warrior with a
metal shield to polish it with cooking fat from the galley.
     Now as they raised their shields, they caught the rays of the rising
sun and reflected it directly into the eyes of the Schliefstag archers and
the warriors who'd held up their shields to protect them.  They could not
only not see the Gwerfjord warship, but they could not see the rain of
arrows directed at them from behind the warriors with polished shields.  As
they raised their hands to shield their eyes from the glare, they left
themselves wide open and archers and the men who were to be shielding them
fell to the deck.  With the surprise of finding the defenders already out
at sea, and with the blinding strategy, what was supposed to have been a
surprise attack turned in favour of the Gwerfjord defenders.
     Bjordi, however, was not about to turn and run after seven days at
sea, and urged his men on, intending to ram the ships with his own.  Njord,
the god of the coastal seas, had been watching from above the clouds.
Impressed with Brett's strategy, he was not about to make things so easy
for the attackers and brought up a sudden winter storm, causing the boats
to bob about like corks in the tall waves.  He, like all the gods, was
under instructions not to interfere in the missions of the four boys, but
causing a storm did not favour one side over the other, so he reasoned he
could hardly be blamed as being partisan.
     In fact as the waves buffeted the ships, one particularly large wave
swept over Seglfjot's ship, the ship the twins were in, and swept Brent
into the ice-cold sea.  With a scream of dismay, Brett called out,
screaming his brother's name, but he knew there was nothing that he nor the
men on the ship could do.  He also knew that it was going to be impossible
to find his twin brother in the sudden storm that had blown up, and that
although Brent was a good swimmer, there was no way he'd be able to stay
afloat until the storm was over, not with the icy North Atlantic water and
the violently churning waves.
     "No!" he cried, his heart breaking as he looked up into the sky,
hoping that Odin would be watching this battle given the impact their loss
would have on him and the other gods, and knowing only Odin could save his
brother.  "If one of us must die, let it be me!" he cried in his despair
and sorrow.
     Njord, having seen what had happened, had already sent another wave to
hit the ship and to lift Brent up from the sea and toss him back onboard.
In his eagerness to rectify what had happened as a direct result of his
interference, and in his fear of Odin's wrath for having interfered in the
battle, and especially having intervened to their disadvantage, he had not
considered how distraught Brett was, so as one brother was swept back on
board, the second was swept off, making it look to those on the vessel as
if the gods had heard Brett's plea.
  Brent, waterlogged, frozen, and in a state of shock, had no idea what had
happened of course, and was just grateful to have been washed back on
board.  As Bjordi's ship smashed into Seglfjot's, Brent was too busy
clinging onto the ship to wonder where his brother was.
     It was not until many hours later after the men of Gwerfjord had
repulsed the men of Schliefstag, sending two of their three ships to the
bottom of the sea and chasing the last back down the coast and out to the
southern sea, ensuring it did not land on their coastline, that Brent
discovered what had happened to Brett.  He and his brothers had been in
life-threatening situations before, but nothing like this, and never had he
considered that one of them might be killed.  Standing in the prow of the
dragon ship and looking out at the grey, turbulent sea, tears streaming
down his face and freezing to his downy cheeks, he was oblivious to the
harsh, cold winter wind blowing in his face as they returned to the
village.  His heart was as cold as the chunks of ice along the shore, and
his one ardent hope was that Benny was on the one ship heading back to
Schliefstag and not on one of those that had been sunk.  If he'd lost both
of his brothers, he'd rather die there in this foreign land and time than
return home.
     In his despair he had not thought of Bobby, and Bobby, of course, had
no idea what was happening to his brothers.  Having survived his rapid
descent through the forest with a black eye, a half dozen bruises, and a
few minor facial cuts, he was thankful he had not sprained nor broken
anything.  He was even more thankful that he had not skied right off the
jagged bluff he was now standing upon.  That was the only good thing about
where he was.  The thirteen-year-old looked in dismay at the sheer cliffs
now before him.  Jagged and coated with ice, they dropped several hundred
feet to the sea below him, and they stretched for as far as he could see to
his right and to his left.  There was no way he was going to be able to
climb down them.
     With night falling, he retreated away from the cliffs and sought
shelter at the edge of the forest, building himself a snow shelter and
starting a bit of a fire from the dry needles and branches, bringing his
boy scout camping and outdoors crafts badge to the test with the tiny piece
of flint in his backpack.  As he drifted in and out of sleep, he wondered
about his brothers and prayed they were all right.  Not knowing exactly
whom he should be praying to, he included both Odin and God, and threw in
Zeus for good measure along with Hermes for Brent's sake.
     Examining the cliffs in the morning and dismayed that he'd possibly
chosen the wrong direction and should have headed to his left back in the
meadow, he debated if he should make the climb back up the slopes he'd
skied down, or if he should hike along the cliffs and see if there was a
way down.  The problem with the first was that it was going to be a steep,
hard climb, and would probably take him three times as long to climb back
up as the single day it had taken for him to ski down.  The problem with
the second choice was that he had no idea if he should head right or head
left along the cliffs.
     Choosing the cliffs rather than the climb, because the cliffs were
easier, and because at least he'd be going somewhere for three days instead
of just returning to where he'd been, he decided to head right for the
simple reason that he associated right with the mansion back in Valaskjalf.
So, for the rest of that day, and for the four days after that, he hiked
along the cliffs, fighting despair and disappointment all the way.  He sang
and thought about the Catholic choir he belonged to and the choir boys he'd
messed around with, and those he still planned on doing things with.  He
sang the songs he'd learned at Yule and thought of the fun time he and his
brothers had that night.  He sang every song he had learned in scouts,
those you could sing in front of your scout leaders, and those you sang
when there were no adults around.  He rationed out the jerky that was in
his backpack, and he even used his scouting skills to snare a rabbit and
cook it out of sheer hunger.  Most of all he thought about his brothers and
worried about them and swore that if he ever got back home he'd never use
the spell book again.
  Except maybe to curse Benny for suggesting this dumb idea.  And any
spells that involved sex.  Provided he didn't freeze off his pecker before
he got home.
     On the morning of the seventh day as he looked down at the jagged
abutments and wondered if there would ever be an end to them, he heard a
noise behind him that sounded like an avalanche.  Quickly turning, he
spotted a man stepping out of the forest, not just an ordinary man, but one
that had to be four stories high.  He was reminded immediately of his
experience with another giant of another sort, an experience that had
turned out quite enjoyable.  This giant, however, did not look like one who
liked children.  He didn't look like he liked anything or anyone.  Standing
at close to forty-feet tall, he had a frost-white bristly beard and hair
that stuck out from under his horned helmet, ice-blue eyes, and a fierce
scowl on his face.  A long sword hung from his belt, and he was pulling
what looked like a toboggan.  Hunkering down behind a large boulder, Bobby
waited until the man passed, and then scurrying after him, leaped up on the
toboggan and hid in the pile of sacks on it.  He had no idea where the
giant was heading, but wherever it was, he was going in the same direction
as he was and he was going to get there a lot faster than he'd ever be able
to.
     As the dragon ship approached Gwerfjord, Brent was the first to spot
the slender, long- haired figure jumping up and down on the shore and
waving.  He could not believe his eyes, and his heart was so happy he was
sure it would burst with joy.  Brett had miraculously (actually with the
help of Njord) been washed up ashore and found by the women of the village
who were standing watch waiting for the return of their loved ones.  While
Brent had been crying his eyes out and freezing on the prow of the ship,
Brett had been on shore awaiting his return and fretting.  He had seen his
brother miraculously being washed back onto the ship as he'd been washed
overboard, but he could have been dead, and if he'd been alive, since then
Seglfjot's warship could have been sunk or could have been boarded and
Brent killed.
     Bjordi's ship had been seriously damaged, and being in the lead, most
of his men had been killed with the few remaining surrendering before the
ship was sunk.  Bjordi himself was not onboard.  During the ramming of
ships, Benny had seen his opportunity and stepped up behind the man.
Begging forgiveness, he pushed the warrior over the railing.  As if in
answer that such a deed was beyond forgiving, seconds later he lost his
balance and tumbled over the railing after him.  As he hit the icy water,
he reached out and grabbed the first thing in his sight, which he did not
realize at the time was Bjordi.  A few moments later they began to move.
  Numb with cold and shock, it took him a few moments to notice it, and to
notice they were not moving toward the remaining ships, but away from them.
Not only that but they were moving far too fast for the man he was clinging
to, for by then he'd realized that was what he was doing, to be swimming.
As he focussed his numbed mind, he discovered that they were being carried
by some sort of sea creature.  At least the man he was clinging to was
being carried.  He was just sort of coming along for the ride.
     He had heard of dolphins or porpoises or something saving people, and
of course he'd had his own experience with dolphins in Bimini on Memorial
day, but he had no idea if they lived this far north, or if they did that
sort of thing back in Viking times.  As they skimmed along the surface of
the ocean, he could not be sure what it was that was carrying them, and it
could be for all he knew some sea serpent taking them home for dinner, they
being the dinner.  With the cold numbing his mind and the salt water spray
in his face, he had no idea they were actually heading for land until they
were unceremoniously tossed onto the beach.  Before he could come to his
senses, whatever it was that had saved them had disappeared back into the
ocean.
     Arriving not far from the inlet that Benny had been told about, they
stumbled up the beach to the nearest fisherman's shack.  The place was
empty, the owner either having joined the warriors on the warship or his
dead companions in Valhalla, the hall of dead heros.  Cold and wet, they
built a fire and stripped out of their sodden clothes.  Benny watched
Bjordi closely, hoping to find an opportunity to complete his mission, as
distasteful as it was.  As it turned out, actually to his relief, Bjordi
was never far from his sword.  Changing into the fisherman's clothing, they
headed toward the village when they were joined, to their surprise, by the
elder who had been Bjordi's chief advisor on this mission and who had also
made it to shore and found a change of clothing.
     The man immediately took Bjordi aside, and as they conferred, Benny
studied the wizened old warrior for the first time.  He somehow had the
feeling they'd met before, though he looked unlike any man he'd met so far
on this strange adventure.  As they approached the village, they headed for
the shore and hid near the docks.  They did not wait long before the dragon
ships of Gwerfjord appeared on the horizon, damaged, two badly, but still
afloat.  As they tied up at the dock and the men began to disembark, Benny
peered from his hiding place and prayed against hope.  He finally spotted
the man who had to be Seglfjot, and to his delight, two slender blond
youths who despite their Viking armour he quickly recognized.  Bjordi
recognized them also, and was beginning to wonder if the two boys were
vitkis, shamans, or if they were Seglfjot's ergi.  He never seemed to
appear without them.
     Nocking an arrow in the long bow his advisor had given him, Bjordi
slowly began to draw the string back.  He was only going to have the one
chance.  Knowing he probably had less than a minute, Benny made up his
mind.  He had to jump up and give warning, regardless of the fact it would
reveal him as a traitor and ruin any chances he'd have to get close to
Bjordi and kill him.  He could not let his brothers fail in their mission
to protect Seglfjot.  As Bjordi took aim, Benny slowly stood and removed
his helmet, uncertain if he should throw it at Bjordi or at the approaching
men.
     Before he had a chance to do either, Brett spotted Bjordi and without
a moment's hesitation began to step in front of the man he was sworn to
protect.  Bjordi, realizing he had been seen, let the arrow fly.  Everyone
seemed to freeze into a tableau as it slowly sailed through the air and
pierced Brett in the chest, and as he began to fall in slow motion, Brent
reached out to grab him.  Without waiting to see if he'd been successful,
Bjordi fled into the surrounding forest, his advisor grabbing Benny and
charging after him.  As they fled through the forest, Benny heard his
brother's plaintive cry, and tears filled his eyes.
     "No!  No!  Not Brett!  Please no!  If a life must be shed, take my
life, not his!" he screamed, unaware his brother had made the same plea
when he'd been washed overboard.
     A coal black raven circling overhead suddenly flew down and passing
over the two boys kneeling there on the dock, dropped a mistletoe leaf.
The warriors who had surrounded Seglfjot and the boys to protect them from
further attack watched in silence as the leaf floated down to land on the
gaping wound in Brett's chest, and to their awe they saw the arrow drop out
and the wound slowly close and heal.  As Brent fell over in a faint, they
were sure his life had been taken in place of his brother's as he'd asked,
and they dropped to their knees in awe of these two strange boys who had
become their protectors and who loved each other so greatly that they would
give their lives for each other.
      Unaware of what was happening to his brothers, Bobby was delighted to
see the land gradually dropping, and after half a day's walk even more
delighted as the frost giant came to a slope between the sea cliffs and
headed down to the sea.  Passing a particularly large tree among the
driftwood, Bobby rolled off the toboggan and hid behind it.  The giant
continued to the edge of the shore, where he rummaged around in the sacks
on the toboggan where Bobby had been hiding only minutes earlier.  Finding
his net, he tossed it far out into the sea, and after a moment gradually
began to haul it back in.  Shaking out the fish that had been caught in the
net and stuffing them in one of the sacks, he tossed the net out once
again.
     As he crouched there watching the giant fishing, Bobby glanced about
as he pondered his next challenge.  He could wait until the giant left, but
how was he going to dive down to the bottom of the sea?  One minute in that
icy water and he'd be a Bobby popsicle.  And even if he could dive into the
water, and even if he could swim to the bottom, how was he going to find an
oyster in miles and miles of ocean?  He looked at the fish flopping in the
giant's net.  Now if only he could be a fish.  Or one of the otters playing
on the rocks up the shore.
  As he watched them and pondered his problem, a solution came to him, a
solution that only a thirteen-year-old could come up with, at least a
thirteen-year-old with the imagination of Bobby.  It had worked for Loki,
and from the conversations he'd overheard, for some of the others, so why
not for him?  He was no god, but this was no ordinary place either.
     He closed his eyes and concentrated with all his strength.  He slowly
opened his right eye and looked at his arm in disappointment.  It was still
an arm.  He concentrated harder.  There was no other solution, at least not
one that he could think of.  He thought he felt a change but he didn't dare
open an eye or break his concentration.  Squinting his eyes tightly shut to
avoid the temptation of peeking, he concentrated harder.  He was sure there
was a change.  Slowly opening his right eye, he frowned in disappointment.
There was not a scale insight.
     Maybe being a fish was too hard.  That was a totally different animal
kingdom, or phylum, or whatever.  Maybe he should have tried to change into
an otter.  At least they were both mammals.  At least he thought otters
were mammals.  He concentrated again, this time on fur, not scales, and on
paws, not fins.  Actually, if he could change into an animal he'd prefer to
be a horse.  A big brown horse, with a long flowing mane and tail, one of
those huge, handsome horses with the hair around the ankles that they had
in parades and shows.  And of course with a big dick.  He felt a change, a
change between his legs.  He concentrated harder.
  A big hairy sack, whatever it was called that a horse's dick was in, and
a huge, long, dick.  Yes, he was changing!  A horse couldn't go to the
bottom of the ocean, but it was a beginning.  He slowly opened his eyes.
He didn't have a hairy pouch.  He was, however, getting a boner.
     He sighed and concentrated on the otters.  At least they didn't have
huge dicks to distract him.  He didn't know how they had sex exactly.  Like
a dog probably.  He concentrated, imagining their sleek fur, their cute
little paws, their cute little ears and cute little black noses.  He
concentrated very hard.  He would make a cute otter.  Slowly he raised one
eyelid and then the other.  His dark brown eyes sparkled.  His fine, long
whiskers quivered.  He no longer had a hand and arm.  He had a paw and a
furry leg.  He was no longer wearing a thick, brown winter coat.  He was
wearing a coat of sleek brown fur.  He was Bobby the otter!
     Scampering across the beach from boulder to boulder and trying to stay
out of the giant's sight, he finally reached the edge of the sea and
plunged into the water.  It was not the slightest bit cold.  He swam out
from the shore and dived, and turned in circles, and rose to the surface.
He'd never swum so well.  It was awesome.  He swam straight ahead, as fast
as he could.  He dived to the bottom of the ocean and skimmed along the
bottom.  It was absolutely wonderful!  For the next half hour he totally
forgot his mission as he swam and dove and floated.  Finally remembering
what he was there for, he began a methodical search.  He soon discovered in
this form he could communicate with the other sea life, and soon found
himself asking for the location of the largest oyster bed.
     Arriving at the location an hour later and spotting the largest oyster
among them, he was about to head to it when he saw another otter
approaching him, a girl otter he discovered, who took a very intense
interest in him.  As she circled him and nuzzled him, rubbing her nose
against his, and then rubbing it where no girl had ever rubbed her nose
before, it was evident what her intention was, and Bobby thought back about
the stories he'd heard during the evening meal at Valaskjalf that now
seemed so long ago, and wondered what it would be like to be an animal and
have sex with another one.  At least he wasn't the girl animal like some of
the gods had been.  It was tempting, and it definitely was what the girl
otter wanted, but he resisted.  For one he didn't really know how otters
had sex, and for another, she was a female and he wasn't sure he wanted his
first time with a female to be as animals.  Mostly, he knew he had to get
that pearl and still get back to where Odin had left him, and that was a
long, cold uphill climb.  She persisted however, doing everything she could
to arouse him, and finally he had to bite her to get her to back off.
     Swimming over to the giant oyster and seeing the pearl, the size of a
baseball, he was about to swim in closer when a group of sea otters swam
by, three adolescents who cavorted about the bottom of the ocean, clearly
having fun with each other.  Spotting him, one of the otters swam over, and
giving him a nudge with its head, immediately turned and swam away.  Bobby
immediately joined in the game of tag, chasing after the otter and bumping
his head against it and similarly charging off.  Unable to resist having a
bit of fun after the hardships he'd gone through, he joined in their games
as they chased about the ocean floor and swam to the surface and rode the
waves.
     Returning to the oyster an hour later, he gave it several cautious
passes before swimming between the shells.  Reaching out and grabbing the
pearl, he immediately turned and swam off with it.  The otters, figuring
this was another game, gave chase, and for the next half hour they engaged
in a game of steal and run with the pearl until finally they grew tired and
sought other entertainment and Bobby headed for the shore, and the long,
arduous climb ahead of him.  He regretted not having had the opportunity to
find out what gay sex with an otter would be like, and resolved that once
this was all over he'd return to this place and do some serious playing
around.
     Bjordi, having failed in his ambush, hid out in the nearby caves that
night and the following day until evening, and then along with Benny and
his advisor and a new plan, headed back toward the village.  He knew that
Seglfjot and his men after the victory the previous day would be holding a
celebration to commemorate their success.  He was correct, and quickly
mixed in with the crowd of merrymakers.  Benny followed close behind.  He
had no idea what Bjordi was up to, or how he might stop him, but he knew
that he had to remain near him if he was going to succeed in his mission.
     As Bjordi slowly manoeuvred his way over to Seglfjot, Benny similarly
made his way through the crowd to where the two men were, ready to do
whatever he had to in order to stop Bjordi though without a weapon he had
no idea how.  What the man had in mind in such a crowded room and
surrounded by his enemies Benny had no idea, and even worse, he knew Bjordi
was not thinking like a rational man.  After his failure to defend his own
village and the humiliation of being penetrated by another man, not just by
one man, and not just once, but by so many men he'd lost count, and for the
entire night with many coming back for a second or third time, he was
filled with anger.  The failure at sea, and his failure to put an arrow
through the man's heart when he'd returned to shore only fuelled that anger
and added to his humiliation.  What he was going to do about it, Benny did
not have to wait long to find out.
     Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out not a knife as Benny had
expected and was prepared to wrestle from him, but a small vial.
Unstoppering it, he poured the contents into Seglfjot's tankard of ale
while the man was distracted.  As Bjordi turned his back to pocket the
empty vial, Benny quickly swapped Bjordi's drink for Seglfjot's.  Bjordi
had not noticed, but unfortunately his elderly advisor had, and he being
quick handed in turn swapped the drinks a second time before either man had
a chance to drink.  Both Brett and Benny noticed however, and as Benny
tried to distract the man, Brett swapped Seglfjot's drink with not
Bjordi's, but with the elder.  The old man caught what he was doing out of
the corner of his eye, and the man and the boy looked directly at each
other.  Keeping his eyes glued to the old man's, Brett raised his mug and
loudly proposed a toast to Seglfjot and the brave men who'd sailed with
him.  Of course the others all raised their mugs, leaving only the old man.
     "What's the matter, you have something against the brave men who
fought for Gwerfjord?" Brett asked, drawing everyone's attention to the
man.
     "Hey!  I know you!" Benny suddenly shouted.  "You're ."
     Before he could finish, the man raised his arm and made a sudden
gesture, and a whirl of dust surrounded him, causing the others near him to
choke and their eyes to sting as they fumbled for their swords and daggers.
When the dust settled a minute later, the old man, and Bjordi, had
disappeared.
     Splashing out of the water and shaking himself off, Bobby scampered up
to the pile of driftwood and began to concentrate on changing his shape.
With the confidence and daring of thirteen-year-olds, he hadn't for a
moment considered the possibility that he might not be able to return to
his real self.  Unlike the first time, the transformation took only
seconds.  A huge grin crossed his face.  Now that was a trick he could get
used to.  As he stood there, he imagined the hundred different animals he
could be, and tried to imagine having sex in each of the forms.  His first
would definitely be as a horse.  He could just imagine himself hung like a
stallion, or even better, standing on all fours and being mounted by one.
It was a pleasant thought, but he had more pressing things to think about
unfortunately, like the long hike back up the sea cliffs, and then up
through the mountain slopes to the high meadow where Odin had dropped him
off.
     He frowned as he thought about that, and he wished there was another
way.  Slowly realizing that he didn't have to make the trip on foot, he
slapped himself on the side of the head.  Now what bird should he be?  An
eagle like Odin would be cool, though to be an owl would be cool too.  A
parrot would be interesting, but would be conspicuous flying across the
frozen north.  A shadow suddenly passed over him, interrupting his
thoughts.  He looked up, waaaaay up, up, up, up at the scowling face of the
Frost Giant.
     "Ah, hi."
     "What are you doing on my shore?"
     "I, ah, didn't know it was yours."
     "And what were you doing in my ocean?"
     "I didn't know that was yours either."
     "And what are you doing with my pearl?"
     "Ah, well, it isn't like you had your name on it or nothing."
     "This is my shore, and my ocean," the giant thundered.  "I have been
fishing these seas and hunting this land for years, long before you were
even born.  Everything on it and in it belongs to me."
     "Oh.  Ah, well ."
     "So return my pearl."
     Bobby suddenly realized that something was wrong.  How did he know
about the pearl?  It was secure and hidden in the pocket of his winter
coat.  "Well, if all this land, and all this sea is yours, surely you can
spare one tiny little pearl."
     "I could.  But why should I?  It belongs to me."
     "Ah, well, good point.  Maybe, ah, you could sell it to me, or we
could make a trade or something."
     "You have nothing that I want or need."
     "Maybe I can do something for you, you know, like earn it."
     "Do something for me?" the giant asked with a laugh.  "What could a
little thing like you possibly do for me?"
     "I could, ah, maybe scratch an itch that you can't reach, or remove a
thorn in your toe or something," Bobby replied, wishing he could think on
his feet like his brother Brett could.  Brett would have had an answer, a
good answer.  Actually, there was an itch that Bobby would have loved to
scratch for the giant now that he'd mentioned it.
     "If I had an itch I needed scratched I would not have to pay you to do
it.  I would simply command you, and if you refused I could freeze you with
my breath."  The Frost Giant bent over and exhaled, purposefully aiming his
icy breath at the human male child.
     "Yeah, well, try it and I'll melt you with mine," Bobby retorted as he
stared at the giant's crotch.  He was not about to be pushed around and
threatened, even if it was by a giant.  Inspiration suddenly struck.
"Suppose I give you a riddle, and if you can't answer it, then I get to
keep the pearl.  And if you do guess it, then, well, I guess you get to
keep me."  The giant looked down at him quizzically.  "Well, hey, it
happens in legends all the time."
     "You think because I am big, I am not smart."
     "No. I didn't mean that," Bobby replied quickly.
     "Tell me your riddle."
     Oh sure, to that proposal he agrees.  Bobby quickly tried to recall
the legends and stories he'd heard involving riddles.  Some of them were
particularly good, but in the panic of the moment, he could not think of a
single one.  Retreating to more familiar ground, he tried to recall all the
riddles he knew. There was the one about why the fireman wore red
suspenders, but the giant would probably say that was not fair since he
didn't know what suspenders were, or a fireman.  There was that great one
Aaron had told him, what can you put in your left hand that you can't put
in your right, or the one Benny had heard that asked what does a dog do on
three legs that a man does standing up and a woman sitting down.  Or what
can a duck do that a doctor won't.  They were great, but he needed a
guaranteed stumper.  Fuck, he could not think of a single riddle that he'd
read about monsters being unable to answer!  He reached in his pocket and
wrapped his fingers about the pearl.  So he didn't become a man, big deal.
An idea suddenly came to him.
     "An oyster makes a pearl when something like a grain of sand or
something irritates it.  What makes an even more beautiful and more
precious pearl when it is irritated?"
     The giant considered the question.  That he didn't answer immediately
Bobby considered a good sign.  Of course when he heard the answer he could
say it was a dumb riddle and refuse to pay up.  It was after all a riddle
Bobby had made up on his own at the spur of the moment.  "Many cuttlefish
make pearls, but no one can be said to be more beautiful than another.
Teardrops are sometimes called pearls by the poets, and they are more
precious, but teardrops are hardly beautiful," he observed, thinking out
loud.  "Dewdrops have been said to be pearls, and some would argue they are
more beautiful, but they cannot be more precious."
  He thought about the riddle for a long time, longer than Bobby would give
his brothers, but his brothers could not freeze him with a single breath.
"Very well, I give up.  What is the answer?"
     "A cock."
     "A rooster?"
     "No, no, not that sort of cock.  Your dick.  Your penis."
     "My penis?  Someone has been telling you strange things about giants,"
the man said, raising a hairy eyebrow.
     "It can," responded Bobby.  He was about to explain when another idea
came to his mind, a most excellent idea.  "Take it out and I'll show you."
     The giant paused, and then reached down and undid the cord of his
pants and let them drop to his ankles.  They were quickly followed by his
underpants.  Even with the sun shining it was freezing cold out and Bobby
shivered with just the thought of doing what the giant had done.
     "Ah, I need to be able to touch it," Bobby said, his heart speeding up
as he looked up at the long, thick member a good two stories above him.  It
was almost two feet long, and it was still soft!  Freezing cold or not,
this was going to be fucking awesome!
     The giant sat down on the shore.  "If you are thinking of grabbing my
testicles and making me promise to let you have the pearl, forget about
it," he said.  "Someone your size could hardly squeeze hard enough to cause
me any pain."
     Causing the giant pain was the last thing on Bobby's mind as he
removed his mittens and reached over for the giant's huge sausage.  As he
began to stroke it, working his fingers up and down the shaft and along the
sensitive rim of the giant's knob, it began to swell.  He rubbed his cheek
over the flaccid head and stuck out his tongue and licked the sensitive
opening at the very tip.  He wiggled the tip of his tongue inside, the
opening being almost an inch in diameter.  As the giant's massive dick rose
up, Bobby held it in his hands and eagerly and excitedly licked the deep
purple-red head.  It did not take long for the giant's member to become
fully distended.  At four- foot-one, it was only nine inches shorter than
Bobby, and the shaft being ten inches in diameter, there was no way he
could get both hands around it and have his fingers touching.  It was like
holding a huge, fat zucchini, a zucchini with a twelve-inch diameter knob.
Sticking out his tongue, he ran it along the rim.  It was like licking a
basketball!
     As far as Bobby was concerned, the giant's huge, throbbing hot cock
made the perfect dinner.  He ran his tongue over the huge knob, causing the
giant's cock to jerk.  The giant was cut and Bobby wondered what the cut
off part of his foreskin would have looked like.  That would have been
something to see!  He ran his tongue along the sensitive surface just under
the knob, causing the giant to quiver with arousal.  He licked the hot,
throbbing dick like it was a lollipop and inhaled its cheesy fragrance, and
both he and the giant quivered with arousal.  Bobby's little cocklet was
tenting out his pants and he reached down and squeezed it as he licked the
giant pecker.  It was not long before a clear, pearly droplet appeared at
the tip of the knob.
     "Now, isn't that pearl more beautiful and precious than any pearl made
by an oyster?"  asked Bobby, "and I bet irritating your cock was more fun
than irritating an old oyster."  As the Frost Giant sat there with his
massive chest heaving in and out and his thick, tumescent cock throbbing
hotly in Bobby's hands, the pearl of pre-cum glistening in the setting sun,
he could not disagree.
     With a huge smile of triumph and the warm satisfaction of having won,
Bobby bent over and lapped up the gum ball-sized droplet of pre-cum.  It
was even more delicious than a gum ball.  Fastening his lips to the very
tip of the giant cock, he sucked hard on the opening as he ran his hot,
moist tongue over it and the Frost Giant quivered as another droplet of
pre-cum oozed out of his throbbing cock.  Quivering with excitement
himself, Bobby ran his wet lips over the turgid knob and ran his tongue up
along the funnel along the underside.  He allowed his spittle to fill his
mouth and then drooled it over the massive cock and spread it with his
tongue, and then licked the cock-flavoured spittle back up and swallowed
it.
     Standing between the giant's legs and straddling his huge, hairy
balls, Bobby's chin was at the same level as the tip of the giant's cock.
Spreading his fingers out as far as he could, he rubbed his hands up and
down the thickly-veined shaft.  The huge, monstrous organ throbbed hotly in
his hands, and the giant trembled as he felt himself approaching his
orgasm.  Inhaling deeply and holding his breath, he closed his eyes as he
shot.  Bobby's eyes, on the other hand, were as big as dinner plates as he
watched the thick, white stream shoot up into the air past his eyes, arch,
and begin to fall back down. Striking the giant's purple-red knob, it oozed
down the slope and on down the shaft as still more cum gushed out of the
hot, thick, throbbing fountain.
     The hot, slick cum ran over Bobby's fingers, and he smeared it over
the giant's cock.  He licked the thick rivulets of custard up, swirling his
tongue over the flooded knob and licking the giant's deeply veined shaft.
Bringing his hands to his face, he licked the thick cream from them and he
trembled as his own cock trembled and the first wave of his dry orgasm
ripped through his body.  Pressing his body against the giant, cum-streaked
cock, he squeezed it tightly as he trembled and jerked in ecstasy.

                  PART THREE: THE CELEBRATION

     "It was like totally wicked," Bobby said with a huge grin as he looked
at his three brothers, and across at Odin.  After bringing the giant off,
he had explained what he was doing there in Jotunheim, the land of the
Frost and Rock Giants, and about his quest for manhood.  Picking him up and
placing him on his shoulder, the Frost Giant had trekked back to his hut in
the forest.  As he cleaned and salted the fish he'd caught, he listened to
Bobby's tale about how he and his brothers had arrived in the middle of the
battle at Schliefstag, and about being taken to Asgard where the volva had
explained how their arrival had affected the course of history, and how
Odin had sent his brothers off to turn things back around.
     Preparing them something to eat, he listened with even greater
amazement as Bobby explained he was from the future, and described how
people lived where he came from.  He was disappointed that the enterprising
youth could not tell him if Jotunheim still existed in his future, but in
that the world of humans had not yet come to an end, he had to assume that
it, along with the other worlds, had not either.  Bobby spent the night
with the giant, and most of the next day exchanging tales and information
about their two worlds, between some hot sessions of rimming, sucking and
jerking of course, before the giant carried him back up through the forest
to the high meadow where Odin was to meet him.  Hugin had been keeping Odin
informed about what was happening with Bobby, and as he and the Frost Giant
appeared in the meadow Odin swooped down from the skies in his eagle form
to meet them.
     "You are certain of the words Valdimr spoke?" asked Odin.  "As to how
he knew you had the pearl?"
     "Absolutely," Bobby responded, nodding his head vigorously.  "He said
that Loki had come to him while he was fishing, and had told him that I was
stealing one of his pearls, and that he had tried to stop me by distracting
me as a girl otter, but that I was not interested, and that in addition to
being a thief I was probably an ergi besides.  Valdimr was ready to kill me
when he heard I was stealing one of his pearls, and he was none too happy
that you'd sent me there to get it," Bobby continued, looking at Odin with
a serious expression.  "Anyway, that was how Valdimr knew I had the pearl,
and why he'd been watching for an otter to return out of the sea."
     "You really turned into an otter?" asked Benny with amazement.
     "Oh yeah.  It was like fucking wicked!" Bobby replied, his eyes bright
with excitement.  "It was so fucking cool.  I can see why you guys change
form," he observed, looking at Odin with admiration.  Odin could not help
but smile back at the boy.  He was everything he would want a
thirteen-year-old Viking boy to be.  How Bobby had been able to change
shape without any training in Seidhr he had no idea, but then this was a
time and place of magic, and he was an enterprising youth.
     "And you are also sure of what you have told me?" Odin asked, looking
over at Benny.  After bringing Bobby back to Valaskjalf, Odin had headed to
Gwerfjord to pick up Benny and the twins, his other raven, Munin, having
been keeping him informed on their progress and waiting for him when he'd
returned with the latest news.
     "Oh yeah, he'd done a good job of changing himself, but I recognized
Loki anyway.  He was the one who had been advising Bjordi."
     At that moment, Tyr and Vili entered the great hall of Gladsheim where
Odin and the boys were talking and where the other gods had been summoned.
Between Tyr and Vili, looking most displeased and a bit apprehensive, was
Loki, who clearly was there under duress.  Under questioning by Odin, he
confessed to Bobby's accusations, and admitted that he had disguised
himself as a man and had been advising Bjordi.  He also confessed to having
changed himself into a dolphin and carrying Bjordi to shore, and after the
poisoning attempt failed, to having returned him to his village.
     "But I was not the only one who interfered with the actions of these
four boys," he objected, looking over at Njord.
     "I have confessed to my small part," Njord responded.  "But the sea
battle was on my territory where I have domain, and I did not favour one
side over the other.
  Indeed, when I found out I had aided those who would bring about our
early demise, I immediately rectified the situation."
     "And what of the raven who dropped the mistletoe and healed this boy's
wounds?" asked Loki, nodding toward Brett.  "Whose doing was that?"
     "I confess I also intervened in the affairs of these four," Baldr
responded, "but only that once, and only because what had happened to this
youth was the direct result of your own intervention.  What would you have
done for my actions, have me killed a second time?" he asked with a glare.
His helping Brett was just as much to circumvent Loki's plans as it was a
desire to help the beautiful youth that reminded him so much of himself.
     "You and Njord have high-sounding reasons, but the fact is you both
are as guilty as I am.  You have also involved yourselves in the affairs of
man when you were explicitly told not to," Loki accused.  "Besides, my
intervention has not resulted in the demise of the gods, and has in fact
resulted in the creation of two new god-heros."
     That was true.  In part because it vindicated him, and more so because
he believed that was what had really happened, upon his return Bjordi had
told the villagers about the otherworldly twins who had protected the men
of Gwerfjord.  He had explained how one died so the other might live in the
sea battle, and how their roles were later reversed in another plea on the
shores of the village when one had taken the arrow destined for the man
they were protecting.  Convinced that their attackers were protected by the
gods, a pair of twins who would come to be known as the Alcis, or the
Protectors, the men of Schliefstag abandoned any further ideas of attacking
Gwerfjord.  With the twins never having been called by name, their names
have been obscure since that time, some later stories even claiming Freyr
to be one of the Alcis.  As for Benny, he was absolved of his obligation,
the gods all agreeing that he'd done his best to kill Bjordi, and that in
the end, having him live under the impression the northerners were
protected was the better end to the conflict.
     That being settled, they retired to the dining hall.  Serving boys
brought in steaming bowls of barley soup and loaves of freshly baked bread,
large platters of roasted rabbit, pork and mutton, plates piled high with
pickled cabbage, sausages, cheese wedges, and pickled herring, and serving
after serving of blueberry and apple pies and nut-filled pastries coated
with honey.  Mead and a dark brown ale flowed freely, the former preferred
by the boys and all four becoming light- headed by the end of the meal.  As
they ate and drank, the gods debated what would be fit punishment for Loki,
who had been lead away and imprisoned in another part of the mansion, with
the advice of the four boys being sought.
     Following the meal, Brent and Brett were lead away by one of the high
priests, a slender, middle-aged man with a shaved head and a wig of long,
blond curls and a mincing, effeminate manner.  Taking the boys to a room in
the back to which water from the hot spring outside was siphoned, he and
three acolytes, also with shaved heads and ranging in age from their late
teens to late twenties, stripped the boys and proceeded to bathe them.
Having them lay on a pair of elevated mats, they massaged the two boys and
rubbed scented oils over their naked bodies.  Giving them rabbit skin
moccasins and dressing them in soft doeskin robes trimmed with mink, the
priests combed and fussed with their long blond hair which they held in
place with finely tooled leather head bands.  In years to come all-male
circles would form to worship the beautiful but mystery-shrouded Alcis who
had lead such short and heroic, but sadly tragic lives.
     They were then lead to a smaller room in the huge, sprawling mansion,
an inner room made of red pine planks and warmed by a huge stone fireplace
with thick fur rugs on the hardwood floor and a large bed piled high with
brightly coloured woolen blankets and down filled comforters that could
easily sleep four grown men.  It was clearly a room designed for intimate
entertaining.  Sprawled out on the floor waiting for them were four of the
gods the others had agreed upon to welcome the newcomers into the world of
the living gods.
     Laying closest to the fireplace and propped up on his elbow was Baldr,
the Aesir god of purity, sunshine and beauty, the most beautiful and the
wisest of the gods, the flickering flames of the fireplace illuminating his
fine, bright hair.  He was wearing a soft, floor-length robe of deep blue,
tied at the waist and open above, with a slender leg exposed below.  His
skin was so pale it was almost white.  Condemned to life in the underworld
because of Loki, Hel in her sympathy for the sweetest spoken of the gods
had in time begun allowing him the occasional visit to Asgard.
     Sitting beside him was Freyr, the lord of life, love, peace and
fertility, the son of Njord and one of the Vanier.  In legends he was
portrayed as a young man, nineteen or twenty, and so he appeared to the
twins.  Soft spoken and elegant in his gold embroidered beige tunic, he was
laughing and joking with the others as they entered.  The boys' attention
was immediately drawn to his crotch.  In their short stay at Gwerfjord,
they had learned that he was worshipped by male priests who conducted their
ceremonies around a man-sized stone carved as an erect phallus, and that
young boys and men were sacrificed to him.  He was a handsome youth,
large-boned and beardless with sensuous eyes, thick lips and long brown
hair that hung down just past his shoulders.  He looked as one would
imagine a strapping Nordic youth to look, and both Brett and Brent
concluded, one to die for.  Sitting beside him with an arm about his waist
was a youth of similar beauty, his servant and beloved, Skirnir, dressed
also in a fine tunic though not of such elegance.  Although their
relationship was of master and servant, they were of similar age, and loved
each other as equals, the devotion, love and trust between the two young
men evident in the way they looked at each other.
     Sitting cross-legged opposite the three younger men was Njord, god of
the coastal seas and fair winds and the god of the fishermen.  A tall,
muscular man in the prime of life, he alone of the four was bearded.  He
was wearing a short green tunic that revealed strong, muscular legs and
about his head a circlet of seashells.  His beautiful feet, a pale white
and delicate with slender toes, contrasted with the dark bearskin rug.  He
welcomed the twins and motioned for them to join them by the fire.
     Bobby had meanwhile accompanied Odin and Thor to Odin's private
chambers, a large room with walls and floor of northern pine and a balcony
that looked out upon the plain of Idavoll and which was dominated by a huge
canopied, four poster bed covered with furs.  Treasures given as gifts and
taken in the spoils of war hung from the walls and sat on the mantle of the
huge fireplace and everything in the room was large and masculine.  Hanging
his eagle-winged helmet and his massive sword on the weapons rack by the
fireplace, he sat down on the bed and motioned Thor to join him.  Thor, god
of thunder and lightening and of agriculture, one of Odin's many children
by one of his many wives and consorts, placed his huge hammer and iron
gloves on the shelf above Odin's weapons and joined his father.
     Other than their fierce and rugged looks and muscular bodies, the two
men looked very different.  Although he had to be centuries old, Odin
looked like a man in his fifties, his brow wrinkled and crinkles forming
about his eyes, one bright as the sun and the other an empty socket, the
leader of the gods having sacrificed an eye to drink from the Fountain of
Wisdom.  His hands were large and strong but rough and weathered and
scarred from his many battles.  His long white beard extended a quarter of
the way down his chest, giving him a regal and wise look, and his long
white hair flowed over his shoulders.  His walrus-sized moustache covered
his upper lip and became one with his beard.  His son did not look that
much younger, having the muscular body of a forty-year-old athlete in his
prime, his shoulders, arms and thighs particularly thick and strong, like
those of a shot putt thrower or a blacksmith.  His bright red hair was as
long as his father's and wind-blown, making him look particularly fierce,
and his thick red beard looked coarse and bristly, as did the hair on his
massive chest.  Bobby's dicklet ached with just the thought of brushing
against his body.
     Loki was left to Benny, who was told he could devise whatever
punishment he wished.  Given that Loki was once tied to three pointed rocks
with the innards of his own son with a poisonous snake above his head
dripping venom on his face, selecting an appropriate punishment for his
deeds would be no easy task, but Benny readily accepted the challenge.
After all, Loki had made the job Odin had assigned him particularly
difficult, and he had endangered the lives of himself and his three
brothers, giving him good reason to exact a punishment.  Besides, he was a
Brewster, and the Brewsters were experienced in dealing with the likes of
Loki.  After giving it a lot of thought, at least three or four minutes,
which was a lot for Benny, he conferred with Forseti, the god of justice
and mediation whose judgement was so wise and thought out his decisions
were never questioned.
     The two left and the remaining gods tormented Loki with wild tales of
what sort of torture might await him having crossing Odin and incurred the
judgement of the stern and fierce looking Forseti.  Although he tried to
appear unconcerned, he was worried, especially when the two did not return,
and if he'd known anything about Benny, he'd have been even more so.
Forseti finally joined them a good half hour later with an ancient, wizened
old crone.  Hobbling up to Loki with her cane, she slowly circled him and
then pointing at him with a gnarled finger and staring at him with a wide,
jaundiced eye, the other being scared and closed, she bade the gods hold
Loki down least he do her violence as she announced the curse she claimed
that Benny had asked her to put on the trickster and provider god.  At the
mention of the boy, Loki looked about for him, suspicious why he would not
be present to witness the curse.
     Taking a most strange container out of an inner pocket of her ragged
cloak, she poured the sweet-smelling, green liquid down Loki's throat,
telling him and the gods in the hall that it was a potion that would make
him desire sex even more than a man stranded alone on a sea island for a
month, but not as a man she cackled, but as a woman, causing the cavernous
hall to echo with the laughter of the gods.  Now that was an appropriate
punishment for the trickster god!  Having them pull off Loki's trousers,
she slipped a gnarled finger along the crevice of his ass and wiggled it
against his anus, saying that his manhole would ache and itch for a man's
cock just as a virgin's hole did on her wedding night, causing another
round of laughter, and even as she spoke Loki felt his anus begin to itch.
Taking out another container, she scooped out the contents with her three
middle fingers and smeared the paste over Loki's testicles, saying that the
ointment would cause them to turn cold as ice and to shrivel and disappear,
and again, as she spoke, Loki to his dismay felt his testicles growing cold
and felt them beginning to shrink.  Stepping back, the old crone laughed at
the helpless trickster, and announced that only when his rectum had
received nine deposits of semen from nine different men, and only after
nine men had masturbated him to a climax would the curse be removed.
     As the door to the hall closed behind her it was Loki's turn to laugh,
saying that he was a giant and an immortal, and that there was no woman on
the nine worlds who could put a curse on him, and to prove it, he sat back
smugly and grinned at the assembled gods as if nothing had changed.  Try as
hard as he could, however, he could not ignore the itch of his asshole, nor
could he ignore the fact that his balls were in fact ice cold, and
shrivelling, something all the gods could see, and something they pointed
out with glee, observing that in no time Loki the man would be speaking
with a high effeminate voice and his organ would revert back to the single
purpose it once had as a child.  They circled him and taunted him, asking
which of them he'd like to be the first to mount him.
     Meanwhile the twins were being entertained by tales of wild adventures
that their four hosts had experienced, adventures of a nature that the boys
would never have been told about them in school, and many which would be
lost over the ensuing centuries.  The twins in turn had entertained their
hosts with tales of their own adventures, many of which were just as wild
and erotic.  Stories of gang-banging the child-loving, merry old elf the
boys called Santa Claus who lived in a land of ice and snow not unlike
theirs, of bettering an immortal being called Satan and his evil minions in
an underworld they had never heard of, of wild, raw sex in an ancient
forest with a shaggy beast called Sasquatch, and of the unbelievable world
of the twenty-first century and the daily events of their lives in
Crestview Heights were just as amazing to the four gods as their tales had
been for the two boys.  They had also been just as erotic, and it was not
long before the six of them began thinking what they might do to satisfy
the throbbing erections that had arisen between their legs.
     Speaking of tales, Bobby, having settled in on the large bed with Odin
on one side and Thor on the other, had, upon their encouragement, related
in great detail his coming of age quest, from the moment Odin had dropped
him off in the high meadow to the Frost Giant returning him.  The two gods,
two of the most powerful and revered gods in Asgard, listened with
admiration for the boy's courage and his ingenuity in overcoming the
obstacles in his quest.  They smiled with amusement and with fond memories
of their own youth as they noted the thirteen-year-old boy's enthusiasm and
genuine awe as he related his fears and his frustrations as he sought the
giant pearl, his delight swimming along the bottom of the sea as an otter
and cavorting with the other otters, and Loki's failed distraction.  They
laughed when he told them of the riddle he'd presented to the frost giant,
and when he described how Valdimr had produced not just one pearl but
several strings of pearls, the two gods shifted their weight on the bed,
feeling the beginnings of arousal between their legs, something that did
not go unnoticed by the randy thirteen-year-old.
     Those back in Gladsheim were in good spirits and feeling randy also,
at least everyone except Loki, who was feeling randy but certainly not in
good spirits.  Refusing to allow him to leave, the gods waited patiently,
and as his anus itched more and more furiously and his testicles continued
to shrink until they were the size of a child's, Loki's discomfort and his
anxiety over his loss of masculinity, especially with the frequent
references by the gods to his earlier escapades as a female, finally grew
stronger than his confidence and his pride.  Inhaling deeply and knowing
what he had to do, he glared over at Benny, who had returned shortly after
the old crone had left with a twinkle in his hazel eyes and an "I know a
secret that you don't" smirk on his lips.
     Rising from where he'd been sitting, he approached Forseti and
discretely whispered that if he could use his powers of mediation to allow
the two of them to slip away, and if he would seek out the old crone and
convince her to remove the spell, he would submit to the god and allow him
to have his way with him.  Of course Forseti replied just as discretely
that he'd do no such thing, and that there was only one way Loki's curse
would be removed, and that would be done there in the hall before everyone.
Loki immediately turned to Bragi and offered to submit to him if he would
find the old crone and use his gift of eloquence to convince her to remove
the curse, but having been frequently called a coward by Loki in the
presence of all the other gods and having been the brunt of Loki's insults
many times, he would have no part of it.  Knowing it would be futile to go
to the other gods, each of whom he'd insulted or angered at some time, he
glared again at Benny, who was the cause of his humiliation and debasement,
and returned to Forseti.
     It was only after he had gotten on his knees and begged the god to
have sex with him, and agreed to fondle his cock and balls until he was
erect that Forseti agreed.  With the cheering of the other gods, Loki
slipped his hand inside Forseti's thick robe and extracted the god's cock
and began to stroke it as he fondled the god's huge, hairy balls.  The god
did not make it easy for him and concentrated on everything except what was
happening in the hall to delay his erection and prolong Loki's humiliation.
He could not delay forever, and in time he had to give in to the pleasure
assaulting his cock.  Removing his huge padded boots, discarding his
trousers and his scabbard, and dropping to his hands and knees there in the
middle of Gladsheim before the assembled gods, Loki flushed a brilliant
scarlet as bright as his red, mullet-style hair in embarrassment and anger.
     Throwing off his robe, Forseti knelt down behind the trickster god and
placing the tip of his huge organ, thickly veined and an impressive ten
inches in length, against Loki's itching anus and grasping it by the base,
he lunged forward, plunging his thick sword up Loki's rectum.  Reaching
around and wrapping his fingers about Loki's still limp cock, he began to
tug on it as he began to ease his own cock in and out of Loki's ass.
Between the manipulation by Forseti's hand and the stroking of his prostate
by his long, thick cock, it did not take long for Loki to get hard.  Benny
smiled with satisfaction as the mighty god of Nordic justice lustfully
fucked the man who had tried to prevent him and his brothers from achieving
the goals that Odin had set out for them.  As the stern, bearded warrior
thrust his massive cock in and out of the androgynous blood brother of Odin
and pumped his stiff cock in the middle of the hall, the other gods poured
themselves tankards of ale and jeered the hapless Loki staring down at the
floor of the hall in embarrassment and anger.
     Gradually Forseti began to increase the speed with which he worked his
hips, along with the pumping of his fist, and the look of lust in his eyes
as he concentrated on the pleasure pulsating though his thick member left
no doubt about his feelings.  He grunted and snorted openly and
unabashedly, and when he finally came with a mighty roar of satisfaction
and a forward thrust of his hips and Loki shot his seed across the floor of
the hall a few moments later the gods roared their approval, and observed
that Loki must have enjoyed it as much as Forseti to have come so soon
after he had.  With Forseti having set the standard, the gods sat back and
waited for Loki to make the next move, each determined they would make him
beg and grovel even more than Forseti had made him do.
     There was no begging as far as the twins and their four hosts were
concerned, all six being fully aroused and each knowing the others were
just as eager for sex as he was.  They had all chucked their robes and had
sorted themselves into two groups, Baldr and Njord pairing up with Brett,
and Njord's son Freyr and Freyr's beloved Skirnir pairing up with Brent.
While Baldr and Brett embraced and kissed and caressed each other, running
their hands eagerly over each other's smooth, gorgeous body, Njord snuggled
behind Brett and kissed the nape of his neck as he caressed Brett's smooth,
firm buttocks.  Baldr ran his tongue between Brett's lips and deep kissed
him, and Brett ran his hot, wet tongue around Baldr's.  Running their hands
up each other's back and pressing against each other's shoulder blades, the
two pressed their naked chests against each other, their hot nipples
pressing against each other's flesh and their stiff cocks pinned against
each other and between each other's flat stomach.  Brett trembled with
excitement as he felt Njord's beard brush against the back of his neck, and
as he felt the god of the sea nibble on his earlobe.
     Laying on the floor beside them, Freyr and Skirnir were caressing and
kissing Brent as he kissed and caressed the two of them.  Brushing back the
seventeen-year-old's long, blond hair, they admired its silkiness and curls
and observed that such fine hair would be the envy of every woman in the
nine worlds.  They kissed his forehead, his eyebrows, his ears, and his
cheeks, and Brent in turn kissed one and then the other as he ran his hands
over their smooth, warm bodies.  Freyr and Skirnir continued down, kissing
Brent's neck, his shoulders, and his smooth chest.  They each took a nipple
and licked and sucked and nibbled on it, causing the sensitive nubs to
tingle with arousal and quickly grow firm.  They delighted in his piercing
and flipped his nipple ring with their tongues and engulfed it and his
nipple in their hot, moist mouths.  Brent meanwhile reached down and cupped
the hot, sweating balls of the two gods and rolled the tender orbs in his
fingers and tugged on the loose skin.  He was eager to draw out the
heavenly juices contained in those orbs, and his cock throbbed with the
thought.  They made an attractive threesome, seventeen-year-old Brent with
his blue eyes and long, blond hair, and the two smooth, beardless gods with
their long brown hair, hazel eyes, thick lips, and handsome youthful looks.
     Much to his delight, Bobby was finding himself the centre of
attention.
  Both Odin and Thor being eager to bury their mammoth organs up Bobby's
tender young ass, and Bobby being just as eager to receive each of them,
they had decided that Odin being the elder, besides being the superior of
all the gods and Thor's father, would have first crack so to speak.  Not
wanting to hurt the boy, who despite his past experiences and his eagerness
would be tight, they knew they had to take time to arouse him and to
gradually stretch his hole, but the two gods were more accustomed to a
rough and brief prelude to having sex.  That was especially true with sex
with another male in that the only way they could accept same sex
relationships was as the aggressors or as a means to achieve something
else.  Bobby had a much different concept of sex between guys, and being
charmed by the naked cherub, the two mighty gods found themselves following
his lead.
     So it was that Thor, the mighty god of thunder who could, and had,
split the skulls of giants, found himself exchanging soft, tender kisses
with the thirteen-year-old boy while he gently caressed the boy's smooth
back and allowed the boy to run his fingers though the thick, coarse red
hairs of his chest and to fondle his nipples, as a man might fondle the
breasts of a woman.  Odin, before whom even the mightiest quaked, was even
more surprised to find himself gently caressing and kneading Bobby's soft
cheeks with even more care and loving than he paid to his wives, and even
more surprising yet, found himself pulling the thirteen-year-old boy's
cheeks apart and pressing his face between them.  No mortal or immortal in
the nine worlds could lay claim to having the mightiest of all gods rim
them.  An hour ago Odin himself would never have imagined he'd be licking
and sucking the asshole of a thirteen-year-old boy.
     Bobby squirmed with delight as he felt the god's thick, coarse beard
brushing against his butt cheeks, and his hot mouth encircled by moustache
and beard pressing against his pucker.  His little cocklet was stiff and
aching as father and son caressed him and kissed him, the son kissing him
on the lips and the father kissing his asshole.  He slipped his own lips
about Thor's now swollen and irritated nipple and sucked on it, as a babe
would suck his mother's teat, and given the size of the man and the boy, it
was not an exaggerated comparison.  He ran his tongue over the irritated
nub and his eyes sparkled with delight as the mighty god of thunder
quivered with the arousal.  As Odin pressed his hot, wet tongue against his
asshole, Bobby relaxed so the god could worm his tongue into his dank
cavity, and he constricted his sphincter about it like a steel trap.  Both
gods were panting with arousal, their swelling cocks evidence of their
growing lust.  As unaccustomed as they were taking directions from a mere
boy, they could not deny that what the persuasive teenager had them doing
had them hotter than many a virgin maiden ever had.
     While Odin, Thor and Bobby were engaged in a hot session of foreplay
in Odin's bedroom, the god Heimdall, who had been often teased and
denigrated by Loki for having such a boring and mundane job as guarding the
bridge to Asgard, was now about to enjoy his revenge as he knelt down
behind the hapless Loki, his thick, stiff eight-inch cock throbbing hotly
in his fist.  Placing the knob against the abused but still tight hole of
his tormentor, he had no thoughts of being gentle.  He suspected that Loki
had approached him after Forseti in the hope he would be more gentle than
the other gods, and because his cock was smaller than the others, and he
had taken great delight in making the giant grovel and beg to be fucked for
twice as long as Forseti had.
     Now he rammed his cock up Loki's rectum and began to rapidly thrust
his hips to and fro, drawing back as far as he could until his knob was
stretching apart the trickster's sphincter and sinking his massive cock
back up Loki's rectum until his hairs were pressed against the god's hairy
butt.  He took great delight in furiously and roughly fucking the god who
had humiliated and insulted him, in making him play the role of ergi, which
in the mind of the Vikings and the gods of Asgard, was the lowest of the
roles a man could play.  Loki was his to be used for his pleasure, to be
used as a man uses a woman, and he reminded Loki of that fact with each
thrust of his hips.  He also reminded him that he would be shooting his
seed deep up his body and regretted that Loki would not be able to bear his
child, but at least his seed would be planted deep up his body and not shot
across the floor of Gladsheim as Loki's would be.  As he roughly pumped his
fist up and down Loki's stiff cock the trickster god felt his balls once
again beginning to draw up tight under his cock and he closed his eyes with
the humiliation of being jerked off before the other gods and the smiling
fifteen-year-old boy upon whom he placed total blame for his humiliation.
     Neither Brett nor Brent nor the four gods who had joined them were
feeling humiliation nor embarrassment. Brett had stretched out on his back
on the thick bearskin rug before the fireplace with Baldr and Njord laying
on either side of him in the opposite direction.  While the two horny,
naked gods nibbled and licked his balls and stiff cock, which at seven and
a half inches was impressive for a seventeen-year-old mortal, Brett grasped
both of theirs by the base and drew them together so the tips of their
knobs were touching and so he could lick both at the same time.  The two
handsome, Nordic gods were well hung, both being two inches longer than the
teenager they were licking, and Brett took great delight in tightly
squeezing the massive tubes and licking their blood-engorged heads.
Running his tongue over them and along the rims, he felt the two gods
tremble with arousal, and he himself shuddered with erotic pleasure as
their hot tongues lapped at his stiff cock.
     Laying on another thick fur rug beside the three and before the
fireplace, Brent and Freyr, the nineteen-year-old god of life and love, had
lain down in opposite directions and were mouthing and licking each other's
balls.  With Freyr also being the god of fertility, Brent could only
imagine how much cum he could hold in those tender orbs or what the love
juice of a Nordic god might be like, but he knew he was going to find out.
He inhaled the musky fragrance of Freyr's hot, hung balls with delight, as
a boy might inhale and delight in the aroma of a freshly baked apple pie,
except for Brent the aroma of a hot set of balls of a young man was far
better.  The seventeen-year-old blond quivered with delight as he felt
Freyr's tongue caress his own balls and the god's hot spittle trickle down
over them.  At the same time, Skirnir, Freyr's beloved and servant, had
snuggled up behind Brent and having pulled apart the teenager's smooth
buttocks, had begun rimming him.  Feeling the handsome young man's tongue
running up and down his crack, and pressing against his pucker as it tried
to worm into his body, Brent inhaled and exhaled deeply with growing
desire.  As Skirnir's long, dark brown hair brushed against his naked
buttocks, the seventeen-year-old sucked Freyr's lower ball into his mouth,
and the handsome young god trembled with lust as he nuzzled the teenager's
balls with his nose.
     Bobby was breathing deeply too.  Laying on his back on the huge bed
with his legs raised and outspread, he smiled up at Odin as the god of
wisdom, prophesy, and magic, among many other things, knelt before him, the
tip of his massive cock, eleven-inches long, thickly veined and as thick as
pop can, wedged in his asshole.  Bobby pushed out with all his strength as
Odin slowly eased his hips forward, forcing his spittle-slick cockhead into
the willing and eager thirteen-year- old boy.  He eased forward slowly,
more slowly than he'd ever entered any woman or man before, wanting to
please the hot, sweating, panting cherub as much as he wanted the pleasure
of fucking the boy's hot tender ass.  The two grunted and gasped and
gritted their teeth, and ever so slowly the slope of Odin's massive
dickhead stretched open Bobby's sphincter until at last his knob popped
inside the horny teenager.  The two paused to catch their breath, and then
ever so slowly Odin continued to push forward, delighting in having Bobby's
hot, moist flesh slowly envelop his massive cock, and Bobby just as
delighted to feel the hot, thick cock slowly sinking up his rectum.  As
Odin's massive balls pressed against Bobby's buttocks and his thick, coarse
hairs tickled the cord that extended from his butthole to his balls, the
two once again paused.  Having united, the two wanted the fuck they were
about to have to last as long as they could make it.
     Having waited for the two to unite and adjust, Thor straddled Bobby,
placing a knee on either side of the prostrate boy's body and squatting
back so that his dangling balls were directly above the boy's face.  Bobby,
having caught his breath, quickly reached up and guided Thor lower so that
he could lick and suck the fierce god's hairy balls.  The mighty god's
balls hung low in a loose sack, and Bobby inhaled the fragrance of his
sweaty nuts with delight as he ran his hot, moist tongue over them.  Thor's
erect cock, only slightly shorter and thinner than his father's, stuck out
and up from his hairy balls at a forty-five-degree angle.  Reaching up for
it and wrapping his fingers about the base, Bobby guided Thor still further
back so that he was able to bend the god's massive cock down and point it
at his mouth.
     Thor adjusted his position and eased his body down, and as he did so
he trembled with delight as he felt the thirteen-year-old boy's lips press
against his knob, and then slowly slide along it until his knob was inside
the boy's hot, moist mouth.  As Bobby ran his tongue over the
blood-engorged bulb and began to suck on it, Thor bent forward and arching
his back, descended on Bobby's own stiff cock and low hung balls.  The
muscles in his mighty thighs and arms flexed as he supported himself above
the boy, the knob of his thick, hard cock in the boy's mouth while he
slipped his own lips about the boy's hard, twitching four-and-a-half inch
cocklet and began to suck on the slender tube.  At the same time his father
began to ease his cock slowly back out of the thirteen-year-old boy's anus.
With a hot, thick cock in his mouth and another up his asshole and a hot,
moist mouth sucking on his throbbing cocklet, Bobby trembled with delight.
Life did not get any better.
     Loki was feeling just the opposite.  Having been fucked by Forseti and
Heimdall, and then even more roughly by Odin's brothers Vili and Ve, Loki
at that moment was on his knees begging Odin's son Vidar, to take him.
Known for his silence, the bearded, taciturn god took great delight in
making Loki beg him to fuck him.  He finally pulled out his cock and made
the androgynous god grasp it by the root and proclaim how much he loved the
feel and the power of his organ, and how he ached to have it inside him.
Having Loki turn around and grasping his hips, he shoved his stiff cock up
his backside, observing how hot and tight his asshole was despite having
been fucked four times, and how it throbbed and squeezed his cock just like
a woman's cunt, and how Loki must really enjoy the role of woman.  Of
course the gods were amused to see Loki used as an ergi once again, and to
hear the usually quiet god berating him.
     Far from enjoying what was happening to him, Loki knelt there on all
fours and gritted his teeth with the pain, his anus raw and skinned from
the rough assault of the four gods before Vidar and now by Vidar himself.
Abused and used, he stared down at the floor and suffered the physical and
verbal abuse by Odin's son as his swollen and aching cock was stroked
roughly and without caring by the god.  As Vidar grunted and snorted with
the pleasure pulsating through his groin, Loki quivered with the pain
shooting through his now shrunken and aching nuts.  When Vidar shot his
thick, copious load up his rectum, Loki strained to reach his own orgasm.
Having already come four times, when he did, it was a weak, thin squirt and
brought him no pleasure.  Exhausted and aching, Loki turned to Bragi,
anxious to get the ordeal over with, and the gods joked that he was so
eager for cock that although he'd just been fucked, he wanted it all over
again.
     Having brought each other to the point of coming several times but
stopping before it happened to prolong the pleasure, the twins and their
four hosts could hold back no longer.  Baldr and Njord were now eagerly
licking Brett's stiff cane, the skin pulled back taut and his organ
glistening with their spittle and a bright red with arousal.  Brett twisted
and groaned and thrust his hips up off the bearskin rug, his cock having
never felt so swollen and huge as it throbbed and ached with that painful
pleasure moments before ejaculation.  Baldr and Njord were aching to come
also, the Aesir and the Vanir quivering in desperation as Brett licked
their stiff, throbbing cocks and ran his hot, moist tongue over the rim of
their blood-engorged knobs.
     Finally with a loud sigh of delight, Brett thrust his hips in the air
and his thick, teenage cum shot out his numb, throbbing canon, shooting
high into the air and falling back down over his aching cock to flow over
the knob and down the shaft to his tight, constricted balls.  Baldr and
Njord eagerly licked up his sweet teenage nectar, delighting in the flavour
and the texture of the hot juice of this strange, handsome boy from the
future.  As they lapped up the creamy teenage cum, they released their own
seed, shooting their equally thick and even more copious loads into Brett's
eager mouth.  The seventeen-year-old blond youth eagerly swallowed the
creamy offering of the two gods as they shot their seed into his mouth with
such force and volume that it filled his mouth and flowed down over his
chin.
     Brent and Freyr were eagerly sucking each other's cocks at that
moment, the blond American teenager and the brown-haired Norse god united
in the common pleasure that spanned centuries and united men of all
nations, the pleasure of sucking and being sucked.  Having a hot throbbing
cock in your mouth and a hot, moist mouth sucking on your own, knowing the
pleasure that is pulsating though your organ is the same pleasure pulsating
though the cock in your mouth, and knowing the pleasure the lips and tongue
are providing you is the same pleasure you are creating with your lips and
tongue, is something that only two men can ever know, and only those men
who are not afraid nor ashamed to seek pleasure with each other.
     For Brent there was the added pleasure of having a man's cock up his
ass and knowing that the pleasure throbbing through his rectum and through
his sphincter was equalled by the pleasure throbbing through the man's
stiff cock.  As Skirnir eased his hips to and fro, easing his long, slender
organ in and out of Brent's hole, Brent constricted and relaxed his
sphincter, working his asshole in time with young god fucking his ass.
Knowing that the man fucking his ass had fucked and been fucked by the man
sucking his cock, and whose cock he was sucking, added to his pleasure.
Being a part of their special love for each other, a love that even
surpassed the burning and all consuming love Freyr had once felt for the
giantess Gerth, made the sex they were engaging in all the more special.
So, as his father lapped up Brett's cum and shot his cum in Brett's mouth,
so the beardless Freyr shot his thick cream into Brent's mouth as Brent
shot his into the handsome young god's mouth.  As the two youths sucked on
each other's throbbing cocks and swallowed each other's hot, thick juice,
Skirnir grasped Brent's slender hips and drove his cock deep up his rectum
as he shot his own load.
     Odin's bed creaked as the warrior god grasped thirteen-year-old Bobby
Brewster's hips and eagerly thrust his thick, eleven inch cock in and out
of the boy's hot, throbbing rectum, delighting in the heat and the
moistness of his tight ass as much as he enjoyed fucking any woman.  His
cock throbbed in time with his heart and with as much force and the rim
burned with that combination of pain and pleasure known to all men.  He
clenched his one eye shut and threw back his head in ecstasy as he felt his
cum churning in his balls and finally with a sharp twitch deep in his groin
rise up his throbbing cock and spurt deep up the youngster's rectum.  As
the ruler of the Norse gods trembled with his release and grunted with the
pleasure washing over him, Bobby trembled and groaned with equal delight,
his tight little anus gripping Odin's cock as his rectum was filled with
his hot, thick semen.
     As Odin throbbed out his thick cum, Thor grasped Bobby's hips also and
muttered a warning as his huge, hairy balls constricted and his hot, thick
semen similarly rose up his thick cock and spurted out the opening.  Squirt
after squirt rapidly shot into Bobby's mouth, thick and creamy, and not
just a tablespoon as mortals can produce, but eightfold that, so copious
and so thick that even Bobby could not swallow it all.  The hot, thick cum
quickly filled his mouth and overflowed down over his chin.  Already in a
sea of creamy delight, Bobby trembled and groaned as his own climax hit.
His slender, naked body jerked uncontrollably as his dry climax rippled
through his groin and his stiff, aching cocklet wagged like the tail of a
happy dog.  The thirteen- year-old boy closed his eyes in ecstasy and
wished the moment would last forever.
     Tyr, the fearsome god of war, who at the famous feast hosted by Aegir
had been humiliated by Loki who had claimed that he had lain with Tyr's
wife and was really the father of Tyr's son and not Tyr, now took great
delight in using Loki as Loki had claimed to have used his wife, sorry only
that he could not have a son by the arrogant and vile trickster.  He bided
his time, drawing close to coming and then pausing to let the pleasure
subside before riding Loki again.  Desiring to prolong his pleasure and
Loki's humiliation for as long as he could, he delayed coming a second and
a third time before finally fucking him to a climax and jerking the
trickster god's swollen and abused cock to his own climax.  This being his
seventh time, the pleasure of coming had long past and Loki quivered more
with pain than with pleasure as he managed a single, thin spurt of cum from
his shrivelled, aching balls.
     Weary and with every move sending a shock of pain up his asshole and
through his tight, shrunken nuts, Loki approached the blind god Hoor who
because of Loki's trickery and guile had tossed the mistletoe that had
taken his brother Baldr's life.  He now took great delight in making Loki
squirm and beg to be fucked, making him say he wanted to be used like a
woman by the blind god.  After making him beg to be fucked and making him
admit his jealousy of Baldr, Hoor refused to fuck him, just as Loki
disguised as the Hag of Ironwood had refused to weep for Baldr and as a
result had condemned him to remain in the underworld ruled by Hel until
Ragnarok.  Knowing how Hoor had grieved over the killing of his brother,
Loki knew the god was serious in his refusal, and he begged even louder and
with greater sincerity, telling the blind god how desperately his asshole
ached for his cock and how grateful he would be if the god would agree to
screw him.  Despite how sore and raw his anus felt, it still itched and
ached to be fucked, the result he had to assume of the volva's curse.  In
that if Hoor refused to fuck him and jack him off his ass would forever
itch for the cock of a man, and his nuts would wither away and he would
never again father children or know the joy of ejaculation, he begged with
absolute sincerity and now anxiety, much to the amusement of the gods.
According to the old crone, he had to be fucked and jerked off by nine
different men, and there were only nine males in the huge hall besides him,
Hoor being the eighth.
     While Loki was on his knees begging Hoor to have sex with him, Hoor's
brother Baldr was caressing and kissing Brent as the bearded god of the sea
Njord rimmed the seventeen-year- old's recently fucked asshole.  Having
taken a break and refreshed themselves with honey cakes and ale, the six
had once again turned their attention to the need between their legs and
the pleasure a man could find bringing pleasure to a fellow man.  They had
no guilt having sex with each other.  The twins, the four gods reasoned,
were young and horny, and celebrating their new status as gods, and the
gods were delighting in the beauty of the two boys and the pleasant chore
of welcoming them as gods in their own rights.  Brett and Brent, of course,
were simply enjoying having a hot fuck and suck session with the handsome,
built Nordic immortals.
     So Brent found himself once again stretched out on the bearskin rug
before the blazing fireplace, this time he and the Aesir Baldr laying on
their sides in opposite directions and fiddling with each other's limp but
slowly swelling cocks while Njord, the bearded Vanir, spread apart his
asscheeks and began to rim him, his hot, wiggling tongue sending ripples of
pleasure through Brent's anus.  Brent inhaled the musky fragrance of the
low hung nuts of the beautiful, white- skinned god, the summer god of
purity and beauty, and he caressed them with his smooth lips.  At the same
time the handsome, beardless god kissed and gently sucked on the large,
tender eggs of the strange teenager from the future, delighting also in
their musky fragrance, the fragrance of youth and of raw, lustful desire.
While the two youths nuzzled each other's groins, Njord delighted in the
dank aroma of Brent's recently fucked asshole and the bearded god of the
sea wormed his tongue into the horny teenager's butt.
     Laying beside the three, Skirnir and Freyr were covering Brett with
kisses as the two lovers ran their hot lips over his body.  As they kissed
the horny, teenage boy, he in turn kissed them, pecking at their eyebrows
and foreheads, nibbling on their ears and their necks, and pressing his
smooth, moist lips against theirs.  The seventeen-year-old blond slipped
his tongue in Freyr's mouth and then in Skirnir's and as he deep kissed the
two youthful gods, he sighed with arousal, forgetting the two men were
immortal and well over a thousand years old and treating them as they
looked and acted, as young men nineteen or twenty years of age.  He ran his
hands over their smooth, muscular bodies as they similarly caressed him,
delighting in the feel of their bodies as they delighted in the feel of
his.  The three cupped each other's balls, caressed each other's smooth ass
cheeks, and fingered each other's anuses with growing desire.  As their
lust began to swell up in their loins once again, so their cocks began to
rise once more also.  Seeing the pleasure each was feeling, each of them
kissed with all the more fervour, each wanting to provide as much pleasure
as he was receiving, and their young cocks quickly became fully extended
once again.
     Odin, Thor and Bobby, after having taken a similar break to quench
their thirst and hunger, the two gods feeding the young, naked cherub and
Bobby feeding father and son, had also resumed their pursuit of pleasure
and the satisfaction of the itch between their legs.  The two gods lay on
the fur-covered bed, naked and unashamed, as Bobby, sitting between them
just as naked and shameless, played with their limp cocks and huge, hairy
balls.  As he caressed their genitals and as their cocks slowly began to
swell along with his own, the thirteen-year-old observed how great it was
to be a male, and to have a cock and balls, something the two men readily
agreed with.  It was beginning to snow outside and a wind had picked up
across the Plain of Idavoll but there in Odin's bedroom it was warm and
cozy as the three snuggled together for some serious foreplay.
     As he stroked the slowly swelling organs and fondled the huge, hairy
balls of the father and son, he related some of the hot times he and his
brothers had with their father in the past and how awesome it had been, and
how he and his brothers believed that sex between guys was just as good and
just as appropriate as sex between guys and girls, and that ages and
relationships to each other were irrelevant.  The boys of course practised
what they believed, and promoted those beliefs wherever and whenever they
could, something that all of the gods had discovered.  The idea of seeking
to bring their partner pleasure as well as seeking their own pleasure, and
of active and passive partners being equal was new, and contrary, to the
beliefs of the Norse gods and of their followers, and Odin and Thor
listened carefully to Bobby's reasoning and reflected on their own beliefs
as they lay there on the huge four-poster bed and fondled each other.  They
did at least until the pleasure throbbing through their stiff organs became
impossible to ignore.
     Loki approached the ninth and only person in the giant hall who had
not yet fucked him and jerked him off, the most difficult of them all to
approach, the fifteen-year-old boy whom he'd tried to prevent from
achieving his goal, and who had revealed his intervention to Odin.  It had
been embarrassing begging the other gods to fuck his ass and grovelling and
debasing himself before them, but they were gods and they had a long
history of give and take, of trickery and of forgiveness.  It was a much
different matter to approach a fifteen-year-old boy and beg him to fuck
you, and to jack you off, given his age in comparison, and even more when
he is a mortal and you are not.  It was difficult, but it had to be done.
     Actually, as he knelt there supplicating the youth, Loki could not
help but admire the strange boy from the future, nor wonder how powerful
his skills and abilities really were.  How he and his brothers had shown up
in that battle between the Vikings and the Saxons at Schliefstag was a
mystery, and how they'd been able to achieve the challenges Odin had
presented them was worthy of praise.  However, despite his admiration,
having to beg a fifteen-year-old boy to fuck you and to jack you off was
beyond all doubt the most humiliating part of the evening.
     Benny could have made his adversary beg for a much longer time, but he
figured the trickster god had learned his lesson, and besides, he was
feeling randy as fuck.  Wanting to see his face, Benny had the handsome,
androgynous god lay on his back and raise and spread his legs as a woman
would.  Kneeling between his pale, slender legs and having one of the gods
find a cushion to raise Loki's ass, Benny shuffled into position and easily
eased his stiff cock up Loki's well- worn hole.  Supporting himself on his
knees and elbows, he began to work his cock in and out of Loki's asshole,
smiling down at the humiliated god.  Having your stiff cock surrounded by
hot, moist flesh always felt good, and when it was accompanied by revenging
a wrong it felt even better.  In this case, having one-upmanship over Loki,
companion and blood-brother of Odin, the instigator of conflicts and
provider of the gods, the transgressor and the ultimate trickster, was
especially sweet.
     Having given them an opportunity to seek revenge against the one who
had mocked them so many times, Benny was admired by all the gods as they
refilled their tankards with ale and watched him fucking their tormentor.
Chief among them was Forseti, god of justice and mediation, who could not
have thought of a more just punishment for having disobeyed Odin and
interfered with the four strange boys from the future.  Like Loki, he
wondered just what sort of youths lived in this strange, future land and if
all youth were as ingenious as the hazel-eyed youth with the strangely
styled hair, dark brown and curly with strange copper coloured streaks on
top and darkened and close cropped along the sides of his head.  He had
marvelled at the boy's plan when the boy had taken him aside and revealed
it to him, and if he had not seen the boy disappear before his very eyes
and return back from the future with the three potions he'd gone to
retrieve he would never have believed it.
     Benny had been worried he wouldn't remember the spell correctly for
returning back to his own time, and was uneasy doing it on his own, but
like he'd heard his grandfather from Scotland say, "nothin' venturrrred,
nothin' gained" and Benny was, if nothing else, venturous.  Loki being a
master shapeshifter and trickster himself, having Forseti use his powers to
change him into an old woman and casting the fake spell on the prankster
god was the most worrisome part of the plan, but it had gone off without a
hitch.  The lime Kool-Aide was pretty lame he had to admit, and bringing it
along in the plastic bottle was a risk, but hey, he was in a hurry, and it
was the only thing in the fridge.  Besides, it was something Loki would
never have tasted before, and combined with the itching powder, had gotten
hin in the right frame of mind.
     The itching powder he'd managed to rub over Loki's asshole he knew
would do the trick, and anyway, by the time Ve was done fucking him Loki's
asshole was so sore and raw that it ached and itched without the powder.
He had not been so sure about his father's haemorrhoidal cream, but what
with Loki's vivid imagination and his fears and the cooling effect of the
cream, he'd fallen for the claim that his balls would wither away.  Later
as his balls were being pumped dry and shrinking to the size of marbles
from being constantly jerked off, Loki really believed that they were
withering away because of the spell.
     Benny smiled as the thought of the success of his trick.  The
prankster god's asshole was now so raw and sensitive that each time Benny
thrust his cock up his rectum Loki could not stop his body from jerking,
nor from shivering each time Benny eased his cock back out.  Closing his
eyes to block out the sight of the young boy humping between his legs, and
groaning in pain as Benny's flat stomach brushed against his swollen and
aching cock, Loki cursed the day he'd first seen the four boys in the
battle of Schliefstag and seen the admiration in Odin's eyes, the reason he
had later decided to intervene.  Of course those watching interpreted his
actions differently, saying that he was jerking and shivering with pleasure
just as a woman reacts when given a good fucking by a man, and that the
clenched eyes and groaning were proof that deep down inside Loki was ergi.
     Brent and Brett were groaning and writhing with erotic pleasure also,
as were the four gods getting their nuts off once again with the gorgeous
and horny twins.  It being customary and acceptable for older men to
introduce young teens to the mysteries and joys of sex through ritual such
as the coming of age celebration and through initiation into clans and
societies composed only of men, the four gods did not try to hide their
pleasure, and the fact that Brent and Brett were teaching them as much as
they were teaching the boys did not matter.  After all, were not the twins
from the future, and were they not now worshipped in Midgard as gods
themselves?
     Brent was eagerly sucking on Baldr's stiff cock and working his
smooth, moist lips up and down the shaft, deep throating the pale god of
beauty and purity with lust and desire as Baldr just as eagerly sucked and
worked his mouth up and down the teenager's stiff cock.  The pleasure
throbbing between their legs as they sucked on each other's swollen flesh
was equal to the pleasure each felt knowing that he was the cause of the
grunting and gasping of his partner.  Njord at the same time was grasping
Brent's hips as he worked his cock in and out of the boy's hot, tight
rectum, fucking him not as an ergi but as an equal, the throbbing pleasure
pulsating through his massive cock just as delightful as the throbbing
pleasure pulsating through Brent's rectum.  Brent was bringing him
pleasure, and he in turn was pleasing the boy, and no man, moral or
immortal, could claim that was a bad thing.
     Brett, Freyr and Skirnir were feeling the same.  Laying on his back
with his hips in the air and his legs raised and outspread, Freyr quivered
with delight as Brett worked his stiff cock in and out of the handsome
young fertility god's ass.  Having straddled his master and facing the
seventeen-year-old boy plowing him, Skirnir had presented Brett his stiff
cock and Brett had eagerly lowered his head and slipped his lips over the
man's knob.  He sucked eagerly on the stiff organ that had earlier been up
his twin brother's asshole as the man he was fucking raised his head and
buried his face in his servant and beloved's ass.  And so Brett eased his
hips to and fro, his stiff seven-and-a-half inch cock throbbing hotly up
Freyr's rectum as he sucked on Skirnir's throbbing cock and Freyr rimmed
him.  The three youths began to perspire with the lust pulsing through
their veins, and they delighted in the hot pulsing sensation of their hot,
aching cocks.
     Spread out in Odin's large bed, Thor was laying on his back and
grunting and gasping with pleasure also as Bobby straddled the muscular
god's six-pack and rode up and down on his thick, throbbing cock, the boy's
face a mixture of concentration and supreme pleasure.  Once again he had a
hot, thick cock shoved up his rectum, but this time he was in control as he
flexed his slender legs and eased his body up and down the thick tube of
flesh.  As Skirnir had done, Odin had straddled Thor and presented to the
boy the huge, eleven-inch cock that he had earlier rammed up the boy's ass.
Bobby eagerly accepted the mushroom-capped treat, it having of course been
wiped off since being up his ass, and he willingly slipped his smooth moist
lips over the huge knob.  As the turgid flesh filled his mouth, the boy's
cheeks bulged out like the cheeks of a chipmunk.  Thor at the same time
raised his head and began to rim his father.  He had never before performed
such an act on any man, and as he ran his tongue along his father's hairy
crack and wormed it into his rectum just as Bobby had earlier instructed
Odin to do to him, he understood how his father could have enjoyed such a
thing.  Filled with lust like they'd never felt before, the two gods
reached down and began to fondle the thirteen-year-old's stiff little
cocklet and hairless balls, taking turns tugging on the slender erection
and caressing his tender eggs.
     In Gladsheim the eight gods forming a circle about the fornicating
couple cheered as Benny trembled with his orgasm, sending his seed up
Loki's ass to join the other eight loads of cum deposited deep up his
rectum.  Benny delighted shooting his load at any time, but this was
special, and he quivered and gasped with pure ecstasy as his young cock
throbbed and spurted out his thick, teenage cum.  It was special because he
was being watched and cheered by eight Nordic gods, and because he was
seeking the ultimate revenge against the man who would have seen him and
his brothers killed.
     Loki quivered also as he reached his ninth orgasm, his balls now drawn
up tight under his aching cock which throbbed painfully but still with a
perverse pleasure, Loki's orgasm being as dry as a preadolescent boy's.  He
sighed deeply, in part with pleasure, but more with relief knowing that the
spell that had been placed on him had been broken.  Despite the humiliation
he'd been put through, he'd won over the old hag.  The gods stamped their
feet in approval as Benny came, and raised their arms and voices in salute
to the boy who had provided them an evening that they would talk about for
centuries to come, and which would join the many other tales and legends
about their lives.
     The twins, who would come to be known as the Alcis and who would be
worshipped by their own priests in their own secret and arcane ceremonies,
trembled with the delight of their own orgasms also, having postponed that
ultimate peak of ecstasy for as long as they could.  They exhaled with a
snort of pleasure as they felt their teenage cum rise up their throbbing
cocks and spurt out of the burning tips and into the hot, moist mouths that
had been eagerly sucking them.  As the blond-haired, blue-eyed youths
filled the mouths of the two gods, the two gods in turn trembled with the
release of their seed, Baldr shooting his thick cum into Brent's mouth and
Skirnir shooting his into Brett's.  The two muscular, handsome gods
trembled with the release of their seed and the burning pleasure pulsating
through their swollen cocks.
     At the same time as his son was shooting his load into the mouth of
one of the twins, Njord grasped the other twin's hips and ramming his cock
up his ass, he shot his own thick, copious load deep up the boy's rectum.
Brent felt as if he was receiving a hot, thick enema as the sea god's cum
shot up his rectum and filled it.  At the same time Njord's son sucked
deeply on his beloved's asshole, causing the man to tremble with pleasure
and Freyr to shoot also, Brett's stroking of his prostate with his stiff,
seven-and-a-half inch cock and the eroticism of rimming his beloved while
he was sucked off by the boy fucking him causing him to reach his climax
without ever touching his cock.  His thick semen shot into the air,
striking Skirnir's tight hairy balls and his thighs and spattering Brett's
smooth chest and flat stomach.  The three of them trembled with the
pleasure of ejaculation along with the three lying beside them and the room
was filled once again with the fragrance of spilt cum.
     Thor and Odin were ready to shoot also, the two gods grunting and
sweating and feeling a pleasure that they'd never felt before that night.
They had both had sex with ergi before, and in the name of guile and for
other reasons had played the role themselves in their past.  The young boy
riding up and down Thor's mighty cock was not, however, taking the passive
role of an ergi, and nor could Thor nor Odin be considered having taken the
role of a woman.  The two mighty gods had often fucked others of their sex
whom they had defeated in battle, but the act they were engaging in with
this young boy could not be considered a show of aggression nor the
demonstration of the power of one man over another either.  A
thirteen-year-old beardless and smooth-pubed boy could not be the dominant
sexual partner of the supreme god of all the gods and his son, but nor were
the two gods dominating the boy, Bobby having willingly impaled himself on
Thor's mighty cock and having eagerly and willingly gone down on Odin's
monster.  What they were doing, the two gods knew, could not even be
explained as two men celebrating the coming of age of the young, naked
cherub, for they had done that also in their past, and this felt much
different.
     As Thor roared with the release of his seed and thrust his hips in the
air, causing Bobby to rise up with him like a young cowboy riding a bucking
bronco, the mighty god of thunder knew that the pleasure he was feeling
with the release of his seed was surpassed by the pleasure he was feeling
knowing the boy impaled on his cock was feeling just as much pleasure as he
was.  Bobby was, and the thirteen-year-old boy trembled as he felt the
flood of cum gush up his rectum, an obscene and delightful cum enema that
only a god could give him.  His slender body trembled as waves of pleasure
pulsated through his groin and up his slender, stiff cocklet and he once
again groaned with his dry orgasm.
     At the same time Odin released his thick load, filling Bobby's mouth.
His hot, thick cream exploded out of his throbbing cock with the force of a
fire hose, squirting down the boy's eager throat, up and out his nose, and
gushing out from the corners of his mouth and flooding down over his chin
and dripping off it in a half dozen streamers to trickle down his smooth
chest.  Odin trembled with the most powerful release of his seed that he'd
had for a long time, and groaned with ecstasy of his powerful climax as his
son sucked deeply on his asshole and the young boy sucking his cock
trembled and groaned with his own orgasm.  Like Thor, Odin's pleasure was
magnified by the knowledge that he'd brought the young boy sucking his cock
equal delight.
     The massive four-poster bed shook as the two gods and young teenage
boy climaxed and as the three thrashed about in the ecstasy of orgasm,
their own and that of the others in the bed.  The two gods flushed with the
sight of the beaming face of the thirteen-year-old boy, delighted at having
brought him such pleasure.  Thanks to him they knew of a new facet of sex
neither had known before.  Until that moment they had believed that one
concerned himself only with his own pleasure when he had sex and not with
bringing an ergi, or a woman, or a defeated warrior pleasure.  To their
surprise, father and son found that when men and boys had sex with each
other as equals and were just as concerned about bringing pleasure as
receiving it, it doubled the delight that comes with one's climax.  As the
ancient volva Skaga had prophesied, Bobby had changed the way of the gods,
and Odin knew there would be no doubt the rest of her prophesy would ring
true also as he and Thor embraced the perspiring, grinning cherub.
     For years to come in Midgard men would tell of the night that thick,
black thunder clouds rolled across the heavens with a ferocity never seen
before and the very heavens shook as thunder echoed across the land and a
strange bright light enveloped Valaskjalf.  And in Asgard they would tell
of the time the Aesir and the Vanir were joined by the Brewsters, and how
the gods revelled in an orgy the likes of which had never before been
witnessed.  They would tell how the gods had learned about themselves and
the mysteries of sex from the four strange boys from the future on that
night, and each would claim that Asgard had never been the same since.