Date: Sat, 24 Sep 2011 08:58:33 -0700 (PDT)
From: D.O. <celliophonic@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bragenhos Saga 2 - Breed Mage (Gay, Sci-Fi/Fantasy)

             Bragenhos Saga -- Breed Mage

By D.O.
celliophonic@yahoo.com
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bestbbcstories/

                This story takes place
within the world of Bragenhos, a fantastical land filled with dark magics,
knights, orcs, elves, violence and death. Please see my previous tales set
in this realm, The Tavern and King's Gambit.

                Zhakul looked with disdain at the elf bitch before him. He
hated the elves, almost as much as he hated the humans, but he was in need
of their elvish magic at the moment. He had consulted with his tribe's
shaman on the possibilities of breeding his jhuu-lia, Luka. Kathtar the
Wise had informed him that although he knew of such magics, they were
beyond him and the warlord would need an elf mage to perform the
ritual. And so here he sat with Lassathan, the elf whom he hoped could
allow him to plant his seed in his boy-wife.

                Lassathan smiled slightly underneath the drawn hood of her
cloak, aware of the orc lord's hatred of elves and even greater distrust of
their magic. When she spoke, it was in a hushed tone, even of voice. "So
Torgan, you need elvish mystics to help you breed a human boy, your new
jhuu-lia, I presume?"  She emphasized his first name, knowing that no one
called him by it and for an outsider to do so was generally considered
disrespectful in orcish culture. She knew the dangers of crossing him, but
could not resist needling him, just a little. "Can your own magi not
perform this feat?"

                The orc studied the elf wench for a bit before replying in
his typical gravelly-throated voice. "You know, elf witch, you might
consider being more polite to me. It would be a shame for anything to
happen to you on your trip home..." He left the clear threat hanging out
there. Lassathan looked at him and laughed. "Ha, oh Warchief! You flatter
yourself and your guards. We both know if I need to, I can kill every one
of you in the bat of an eyelash. Besides......you need me for your little
perversion you wish to undertake. I doubt you'll really want to kill me. At
least not yet, right?"

                "And you flatter yourself, witch. Do you really think I
would expose myself to you without the proper......  protections? My magi
have assured me, you can do no harm to me within this encampment. Or shall
we test the veracity of their word to me?" Zhakul eyed the elf with an evil
glint, self-assuredness etched across his face. "Shall we discuss our
business?" He knew his gold may not be enough to convince her, but he had
another reason for her, one that he suspected she may not be able to
resist.

                Lassathan looked around, not convinced of the presence of
anti-magics in the area. But she let it slide. Her svelte figure hid the
fact that she was also extremely fleet of foot and excellent with a
blade. If trouble arose, she would do major damage to any enemies. "Yes,
mighty Torgan. Of course we should get down to the trade at hand. Now why
in the world do you believe that I would help you do such a despicable
thing to a young boy? We elves are allies of the humans." Again she called
him by his first name, enjoying it as he flinched almost imperceptibly.

                His eyes burrowed into her with almost overwhelming hatred,
but he was able to calm himself and continue on with their talk. "Well, I
had planned to pay you handsomely. Say, five hundred gold?" Zhakul saw her
very slight reaction through the narrowed slits of his eyes. Lassathan
replied in a careful and measured tone. "Now five hundred is certainly a
seemingly generous offer. But why Warchief, would I even think of casting
this ritual, this dark magic for a mere five hundred gold when it seems as
though it's important enough to you to be worth twice that? Even three
times that."

                Zhakul smiled a toothy grin that many would find repulsive
and frightening. Lassathan was not easily frightened though. The orc
responded to her question. "Because the boy I have taken as my jhuu-lia and
wish to breed with is Luka, son of Kresimir of River's End......that's
why..." He laughed heartily as Lassathan stood up rapidly, pounding her
fist on the table next to her angrily. "Ha, ha, ha! I thought that might
get a rise out you, witch!"

                "As loathsome as I find you, orc, I have long held the
direst of abhorrence for King Kresimir. Of course you know this. He...he is
no ally of mine." She was almost shaking as she spoke, her hatred showing
itself plainly. "He betrayed my family, my father. I would crawl over
broken glass to the ends of the realm just to make him suffer..." The
thought of Kresimir seeing his son's abdomen swollen with a half-breed orc
brat and the embarrassment it would bring to their clan was outlandishly
satisfying in her mind.

                Lassathan looked at the orc lord now with some level of
admiration in her eyes. "Very clever, Zhakul. You knew I would never be
able to resist such an offer... Very well, five hundred gold it is. I am
indeed capable of casting this spell you seek. I will serve you as breed
mage, for a time, Warchief." She paused, just for a moment. "I might have
helped you for free..."  They both chuckled a bit, the black humor of the
situation reaching past even old blood feuds. "I am aware of that,
Lassathan. But I thought to be sporting and offer gold as well as
revenge. Heh, heh... With your aid I will fuck and seed the royal boy-bitch
and then march him past his proud old fuck of a kingly father, with orc
spawn stretching his belly. How I long to rub the king's nose in my
ownership of his lad's bred shithole. Heh, heh, heh..."



                Zhakul stood before the altar in the woods near his
encampment which Lassathan had prepared. He was completely naked, his black
chiseled physique glistening in the moonlight. His cock hung limp down his
thigh, still, but seemingly ready to stir. His jhuu-lia, the young royal
lad Luka, lay tied and gagged, strapped to the altar. He was face up and
tied with his legs pushed back against his chest, connected to his wrists
and the rope looped behind his neck, waiting for his new orc husband to
impregnate him. He was fully exposed and looked to be in extreme
discomfort. Zhakul looked down at his boy-wife and chuckled. He could see
the fear in the boy's eyes, fear of the unknown.

                "Aahh, my little Luka. Pretty Luka. Are you ready for the
ultimate honor? Lassathan has generously agreed to help me in my quest to
impregnate a boy with my seed. That boy is you, my sweetling. After I breed
you, you will feel my orc runt grow inside your belly and experience the
pain of childbirth. Heh, heh. Your father will hate you more than he
already does, and I will own his allegiance, by owning your body. When the
time comes and you are ripe, you will birth my offspring through your
shitter...... The pain should be...well it will be painful, I'm certain..."
Zhakul loved the fevered look of alarm that crossed the boy's features as
he realized what was in store for him.

                Lassathan got to work, pouring a line of crushed flowers
and herbs in a circle around the altar. With but a few incantations, all
was ready.  She had explained to Zhakul that the child would be a
half-breed, taking on characteristics of both species. The preparation
process had been short and painless. "Now Zhakul, you may mount and
impregnate the boy. Just make certain to spill all of your seed as deep
inside him as you can; it will assist in the impregnating as it will make
certain the seed is saturated in his......womb." She spoke the words
distastefully, as if they tasted bitter. She hated this... and yet, here
she was a willing participant and enabler.

                Zhakul chuckled a little and began to stroke himself to
hardness. He ran his hands up and down the thick piece of black meat that
hung between his thighs. "Heh, heh. Normally I have Luka to do this, but I
guess he has other things to deal with. I'll have to arouse myself. Just
thinking about being inside your pretty little pussy is doing it for me,
jhuu-lia. Soon......you will carry my bastard in you." It was true, as
Zhakul's cock soon rose to full erection, sprouting from his crotch
proudly.

                "Soon, jhuu-lia, soon. I will breed you and make you no
better than a female." He spat, but turned and grinned his toothy,
humorless smile at Lassathan. "You can watch me fuck my bitch, if you
want......witch." He spat on his cock, rubbing the viscous fluid all over
his shaft. Then he pressed up to Luka's pucker, the hole he had been in so
many times, and yet he found this time to feel almost like the first all
over again. With a single hard thrust, he was in the boy, sinking into that
soft and gripping flesh. It felt like nothing he had ever felt.

                And then, Zhakul's animal instincts took over and he was
nothing more than a beast, desperately attempting to propagate his
species. Luka's back arched and he screamed a muffle cry around his
gag. Zhakul cared not. He fucked and fucked and fucked. He was a blur in
impulsive movement as his cock was caressed by the amazingly soft lining of
his jhuu-lia's accommodating guts. He wanted nothing, needed nothing but to
cum up the boy's shitter, a deed he had done so many times he had lost
count. But he wanted it more this time, and he didn't know why. He could
scarcely think and his eyes had glazed over from the pleasure. Luka had
stopped struggling and now Zhakul simply plowed into him, jamming his cock
in again and again. And then it happened. "GODS YES! GRRRRR FUUUUUCK!
GOING...TO....CUUUUUUUUUM!!" He ground himself into the boy's guts as far
as he could go and then tightened up like a wound knot. That second of
build-up was followed by a wave of rapture, and Zhakul felt his knees go
weak as his entire body relaxed and he emptied himself into his
jhuu-lia. He looked down at Luka and realized the boy was crying; no
matter. He had achieved his ends. Now they would wait.




                Six months later, Zhakul found himself looking down at
Luka. The boy was lying on the bed but it was easy to make out the swell
beneath his gown. He was with child, very clearly. The Warchief smiled at
his handiwork as he ran his hand over the pregnancy bump. He laughed,
mirthless and full of evil intent. "Soon boy, I will flaunt your fullness
before your father and you both will know true shame... Heh, heh, heh..."


Best, D.O.
celliophonic@yahoo.com
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bestbbcstories/