A gay sex stories: Vortex Quest Bk. 01 Ch. 04 == VORTEX QUEST 1-4 ==
== PREHISTORIC ENCOUNTER ==
Illuminated by the slickly green of an ectoplasm waterfall and the spark of the aurora on the high ceiling, a group of five Kobolds wandered along the canyon.
Various types of bipedal dinosaurs, their skin red, gray or blue, their bodies athletic to muscular, their faces reptilian, swiping tails, bone ridges and other features.
About human-sized, the Kobolds looked like sexy godzillas, designed by some gay, muscle-worshipping dinosaur-lover.
As they walked closer, passing the demigods hideout, their rag-loincloths, spiked bats and simple iron armor pieces became visible, as did a few rune tattoos on biceps or chests.
Reading the expression of dinosaur faces wasn’t Chay’s forte, but he could gather they were mildly tense.
They were subordinate to the bigger creature in their midst — a Drake.
Much like a Kobold but significantly beefier, comfortably over six foot, with smooth-shiny scales in deep purple, the Drake wore strips of leather and chain with clan-leadership insignia danging off them and off the ring piercing his snout’s side.
The Drake had four arms growing from his ripped torso, a spike ridge of lighter purple running from head to tail like a long mohawk.
The lizardmen-leader swung a staff topped with the severed head of a gray Kobold, while the five carried bags.
“They’re coming back from looting,” Chay surmised. “Raiding party of a larger clan, avoided battle but weary of being followed.”
“Do we say hi and ask politely for help?” Marcus wondered.
Chay waved him off. “They’re about to run into an ambush. I know you have zero patience but, seriously, just finger your ass or something.”
“Very funny,” Marcus said and flicked Chay’s nipple.
Chay tried not to flinch but the erotic surge from the simple flick was overwhelming. That it had been caused by a man was all the more embarrassing. He fought the urge to shudder and moan.
Instead he flicked back, watching the Filipino swim team captain twitch and huff a pathetic bitch-moan before pressing his lips shut.
The group around the Drake had stopped. Simple spears were tossed from higher layers of the multi-level canyon. The threatened raised their crude shields in response, black iron holding wooden planks together.
Around two dozen Kobolds, blue, green and beige–skinned, emerged with battle cries from their hiding spots and rushed the group of six.
The Drake pulled out an arcane crossbow, powered by a roughly round, red garnet in the center. It took a second to load each bolt with ominous energy, turning it into a phaser projectiles that exploded where it hit.
The attackers stayed down, advancing one at a time while other threw distraction spears in a practiced maneuver.
Along with them came a crazy big lizard thing, looking like a fat, bipedal crocodile. It was in chains and led by five attackers who could barely wrangle it on course. Each time the nine foot creature swung its weight, a chain-holder was tossed around. The defending Drake was torn between focus-firing the Croc or keeping the enemies from closing in.
The other defenders readied themselves, clubs and spears drawn. They were at a numerical disadvantage and would lose their loot to the marauders — if nobody stepped in.
Chay smirked. “Let’s introduce ourselves. Look scary but don’t do too much damage.”
The four men went down in a thick, rolling cloud of pure black. Xane added slowly forking lightning into the mix and a sound-illusion of an ominous bass-note.
The gods emerged just behind the group of defenders. The battle froze as the attacking warriors stopped to assess and fell back behind jagged cover.
The Drake whipped his chain-hung body around with an expressionless face — the panic only readable to Chay’s umbra-senses. His mighty muscles were tense, ready to charge if necessary, equally ready to run away and leave his troop to die. His phaser-crossbow charged.
“Greetings, do you need assistance?” Chay asked, in the tricky, inhuman sounds of the local Boldian dialect. “I’ll get to the point. If we fight for you, can we get guidance and passage through the crawlway?”
The immense Kobold leader looked down on them calmly, even as the attackers hesitantly encroached again. He lowered his weapon just a bit.
“Slaves?” The Drake’s voice was deep and rough, although part of that was the nature of Boldian. “What can slaves do to help? Who are you?”
Chay flexed his arms and let mushroom clouds of smoke rise from his biceps. “What if these slaves are *gods*? Can you get us passage?”
The big guy laughed, which sounded surprisingly human. “Fine. If you win this for me, I’ll get you anywhere.”
“Gotcha,” Chay said. “Now comes the easy part. Boys? Attack.”
Goro leapt right at the big, chained up monster. His fists pummeled the Croc until every Kobold holding a chain had been forced to let go. The creature stumbled backward, snapping at the berserker, sending its own shattered teeth flying.
“Kill the Urrk,” shouted the marauder leader from up higher.
Urrk meant something like clan head. The Drake, probably. Chay shoved Xane into the path of an oncoming spear-barrage and the thaum-mage exploded a bold of blue energy that whipped the sticks off course.
A golden ring raced along the line of attackers, slicing into throats. Scream by cut-off scream, attackers fell. Marcus himself zoomed like a blur between the levels of the canyon to keep the marauders busy, his maneuvers as much martial arts as dance.
Chay stayed back and shrouded the defenders in a ring of mist while Xane shot frost bolts wherever Chay pointed him. The thaum-mage’s butterfly flapped excitedly in Xane’s hair.
Individual spears were no problem so long as Chay saw the windup and simply sent a spasm into the attacker’s arm. They were unbeatable.
The Urrk put both left hands on his chin, the phaser-crossbow tugged into his belt. “A slave taking on a Croc?”
“He can handle it.”
Goro was evading the monster’s claw swipes with constant back and forth hops, driving the beast off. It was now unchained, going on all fours to retreat.
Goro roared. Everyone seemed to freeze and cower for a fraction of a second. The Croc turned and ran, trampling one of its handlers.
“You really are… something more than slaves,” the Urrk said. He pointed at the lightning-bolt shooting Xane. “You don’t run out? You have powers like a demon?”
Xane flexed his biceps. A little cartoon skull appeared on each and burst apart. “Lifelong avatar of godly power, now with literal godly power, at your service, buddy.”
“Eeec Ghhrs’Ssaa,” the Drake said, a Boldian compliment for a distinguished warrior.
Chay clapped his hands. “Hardly a fight at this point, huh? Guys, come back here.”
The Croc’s retreat had demoralized the attackers as much as the loss of numbers. Ten of them had been sliced open by Marcus or otherwise injured. Goro stomped on the head of a downed Kobold who had reached for his spear, cracking the skull. The rest ran.
“Collect their shit,” the Urrk commanded his underlings. He turned to Chay. He introduced himself as Ccg’sswaa, meaning Neck-Breaker, leader of the Blood-Feasters.
“My home is close-by,” Neck-Breaker continued. “I’ll get you a guide there.”
The umbralist nodded.
===***===
Tucked into a basin below an overhang, was the Blood-eater clan’s camp, the path from shrubland into the village guarded by nests atop wooden scaffolding where Kobolds sounded horns as the Drake lead them by.
Tarps of beige Wyvern-leather spanned across black iron spikes and the bones of creatures bigger than anything earth offered.
Color came from paper lanterns on rusty chains and the grotesque masks hung above most huts’ entrance flap.
A bone-delineated pit held a Sleuthken herd — creatures like a mix of boars, hounds and porcupines, too big for comfort — while chicken-sized fang-frogs freely hopped around the main plaza.
The centerpiece was a high totem, praising King Zheggyr, surround by cairns or colored rocks.
Around 200 Kobolds went about their day, the smell of wet clay, heated pottery hung in the air, the stench of rot wafting from a bubbling cauldron.
The anthropomorphic dinos in loincloths had a wide range of skin colors, though brown and beige featured dominantly. Some were working out, some were sparring or making tools, others lounged under the tarps. A few made music on drums.
Xane hummed. “Where are all the Kobold chicks?”
Marcus chuckled. “Looking to score lizard pussy?”
“You know it,” Xane said with a wink and sent a tiny pink heart at Marcus. “If I’m gonna be a god I’ll be the god of lovin’.”
Chay gestured him to keep it down with the magic. “Low profile. I’m not sure I trust the Urrk but we’ll go along with it. We’ll ask how they make babies another time.”
Marcus huffed. “Oh so we’re ignoring that this is a village of gym bunnies?”
“What do you want?” Xane asked. “Gonna see if they let you ride some dino-dick?”
Chay made a mouth zipping gesture and they broke eye contact.
Goro put his hand on Xane’s shoulder and whispered. “I’ll be right with you if we find a lizard chick.”
“Who says I’m sharing, man?” Xane asked with a grin.
Their argument was interrupted as a Kobold with a flute of some kind made noise and shouted, “The Urrk has returned.”
The Drake spread his four muscled arms and his companions carried their spoils to the totem pole where they got distributed with minor scuffles.
As they advanced through the clan camp, the four avatars saw other ‘slaves’. Two young men knelt naked in a five foot wide cage of bones.
“Where did you get those?” Chay asked.
“From the Reaper,” Neck-Breaker answered like it was a stupid question and led them toward his home which was adorned with Kobold skulls on iron spikes. Leather banners carried blessings and threats in Boldian scratch-glyphs.
The smell of roasted meat wafted toward Chay. Where a small stream drizzled from the overhang above, a Kobold chef was preparing a Sleuthken carcass.
Neck-Breaker slipped out of his upper-body straps, revealing the suggestion of a six-pack on his buff, purple-skinned body. “I’ll ask you to wait with the other slaves. Letting you into my chamber would cause a lot of confusion.”
Chay detected no deceit, even if he found the request distasteful. He led his fellow demigods to the bone-cage. It was guarded by a yellow Triceratops-like Kobold as tall as Chay, with three horns and a bone frill. His loincloth’s belt was hung with feathers on wood rings as was a chain around his neck.
“Take care of those,” the Drake said and walked off.
“Urrk Tchaa’oor,” the guard confirmed with a bow.
The floor of the slave cage was slick with an inch of transparent goo. It moved as thick as honey but felt as light as water to splash around. Their first close encounter with ectoplasm.
It didn’t have a smell but Chay wasn’t keen on stepping into wet. He dropped his wrapped book stack outside the cage.
With the four muscle men inside the cage it got a little crammed.
The slaves already present were catatonic. A white man and a Middle Eastern one, probably twenty-something, head hair buzzed to millimeters, no body hair. Their athletic bodies showed no signs of injury save for red splotches where they must have been harshly grabbed.
The guard popped open a gourd bottle and poured himself a handful of… glitter? He extended the hand through the bone-grate.
The two slaves seemed to awaken and slammed their faces into the heap, rubbing their faces in the iridescent powder.
“What is that?” Marcus asked.
The Kobold grinned. “Unicorn dust.”
The slaves rose with glitter-sparkling lower faces like arts & crafts addicts.
Both nameless men groaned in pleasure, faces contorted in mindless grins. Their dicks hardened. The white guy was cut, of average length but thick enough to look big, the brown one had a longer, uncut tool. No pubes.
They wasted no time jerking off, balls slapping against their fists.
“Wow,” Goro said, deadpan. “Never expected to envy… that.”
“Your turn,” the triple-horned lizardman said and shook the gourd bottle at each demigods in quick succession.
Like real glitter, the ‘unicorn dust’ stuck to everything. Chay sneezed and whipped his eyes but it was futile.
He froze as he was hit by horniness with such force he grew dizzy from the need to jerk off. He went on all fours, goo splashing under him, no longer able to tell up from down in the all-consuming need to cream.
Otherwise, he was feeling perfectly fine, giddy even. He was going to rub his dick and shoot a load — the world was so simple.
He tore his fundoshi off and grabbed- Why couldn’t he find his- the fucking aegis. Fuck. He needed to… to cum, at all costs.
Next to him, Xane slid his ass into a slave’s crotch and started grinding. “F-fuck me. Anything. Just make me cum, fuck, ughhh.”
The muscle-bound Korean mage’s plasma-lubed crack slid along the drooling slave’s dick, who tried to stick his dick into the bodybuilder as if it were the most natural thing.
Xane’s eyes rolled back into his head, his glitter-sparkling face contorting with an extreme sensation, whether pain or pleasure.
Chay was happy for him — no wait, he was happy because he had been *drugged*. Fuck, he needed to clear his head — by cumming, preferably.
Goro hammered his own fingers into his slick hole. Chay imitated him, face splashing into the floor puddle, but it brought next to no relief. He needed better fingering.
He lashed out with his power, toward a green, gecko-like Kobold, almost cutesy with its huge eyes and teen-athlete-looking body.
Could umbralism command the legs to walk closer, the hands to find a hole, the hips to thrust? Chay had lost all sense of distance.
His umbra-magic slipped into the Kobold like a hand into a glove. He puppeteered the whole creature.
The Kobold walked with awkward steps, crying out in confusion, froze mid-stride and fell on his face. His protractible claws shot from his fingers.
No good. Chay needed- Wait. Had he just taken over a *whole* body? Whatever, he needed to feel good already. Was there a spare dick?
Marcus was getting rammed in the ass by the other slave, arching his back and humping into the glistening crotch. The Filipino groaned like a bitch, his glittering face permanently stuck on shock as his glutes trembled under the assault.
There were no humans left to fuck Chay and Kobold hands could extend sharp claws. What now?
Goro’s mark of madness on his hip exploded up his flank and wrapped around his shoulder, eyes black. He leapt and shattered the bone cage. Dropping on all fours before their guard he screamed “F-fuck me or I’ll kill you!”
After a second of shock, the yellow Kobold dropped his loincloth, revealing a dick of smooth scale-like skin, but studded like a fancy dildo.
The rapidly rising rod had two segments — a thicker base and a slimmer upper half with more pronounced studs. The base-segment grew twice as girthy while the top-segment ‘only’ grew to the size of a human erection.
It was done growing in the time it took the shaking Japanese hunk to present his ass.
Chay was nearly paralyzed with horniness, hands uselessly clawing at his aegis. He watched the guard enter Goro’s ass with a now eight inch meat cone.
Chay crawled out of the shattered cage and puppeteered the nearest Kobold to him — a brown ‘sexy velociraptor’ looking guy with strong thighs and a slim face. The motions were uncoordinated as Chay’s jitter translated to the possession victim.
Freeing the confused Kobold from his umbra-hold, Chay presented his hole, spreading his cheeks. “F-fuck meeee, ughhhh.”
Goro was breathless, whining as if in pain but still humping back into the guard.
Chay felt a rod trace his plasma-lubed crack.
The first intrusion felt just like a fingering but the stretching followed seconds later and Chay nearly forgot to breathe at the sensation. It worked. At last he was getting a tiny bit more relief, or maybe the stretching just distracted him from his desire to jerk off.
Chay felt his hole open as if it had only waited for an opportunity to welcome dino-dick. Each stud along the shaft was a shiver that made his spine dance.
It felt so great he had to remind himself he was drugged.
Marcus was basically screeching with pleasure as he got slave-railed. Goro’s face was on the ground, ass up and taking the guard’s full length.
Chay felt the bulges of the Kobold rod’s lower half knocking at his sphincter but he wasn’t opening enough to let more dick in. The studs continued to tickle his insides just right. Was he crying? He couldn’t tell. Probably yes. Tears were not enough to wash away unicorn dust.
Xane raised his shaking hands to his own face. “Hurhg, g-gather. Fucking *gather*!”
The glitter on Xane got vacuumed into a ball in his palm. It was even drawn out of his nose. He tossed it aside.
The Korean mage’s breathing grew less erratic. He patted the slave fucking him on the shoulder and slipped off the dick with weak knees and a final pleasure-spasm.
With another gesture the thaum-mage collected the substance off Goro, then Chay and finally Marcus.
Chay tore himself off the Kobold dick. Expelling the stretcher from his ass was deeply intense and he cried out as *sensation* shook him.
He tried to rise but couldn’t close his legs. Staying in a twerking position, shivers still wrecking his empty guts, Chay elbowed the Kobold in the face.
Goro’s hair tie had at last ripped. The tall muscle god’s shoulder length hair hug over his face as he humped backward.
“Dude,” Xane said. “It’s over, you can stop.”
Goro grunted. “Don’t… wanna. It’s so good.”
Xane laughed. “Oh fuck. That’s not the drug, huh? You like getting ass fucked?”
Goro swiped his hair aside to glare up. “Fuck you. It hits the spot. It hits *every* spot. Spots I didn’t know I had. Ugh. Plus, your hole is pulsing. You’re finger fucking yourself right now.”
Xane raised his hands. “Guilty. Still not as bad as riding monster cock.”
Goro looked back at the masturbating slaves. “Yeah, you got your homo virginity taken by a real man. So much better.”
Xane’s broad shoulders sagged. “Man, don’t phrase it like that.”
The Kobold inside Goro looked back and forth between them, frightened but still humping dutifully.
Chay finally felt like he could walk again and joined the pair. “Xane, did you get Marcus?”
“Think so.”
Marcus, still riding slave dick in the torn cage, gave a thumbs up. “It feels *really* good now. Fuck what you think, fuck society, fuck the mission, I’m gonna keep doing this forever.”
The slave behind him whimpered and stopped humping.
Marcus’ eyes went wide. He rose with a panicked expression, jizz squirting from his cheeks. “He just came. Fuck, he creamed a load into me. A *man* cummed into me. I let a man cum into me. Fuck.”
Xane laughed the loudest but Chay couldn’t help chuckle, too. “At least it wasn’t monster cum.”
Goro grunted. “Yeah, I’m not having that.”
The berserker slipped off the guard’s obscenely serpentine dick with a slurping sound and one last expression of pure bliss.
Urrk Neck-Breaker paced toward them.
“What is this ruckus? Ah, have the god-slaves tasted unicorn dust? How did you like it? Hehe.”
“Fuck you!” Xane shouted and sent harmless sparks into the Urrk’s face to emphasize his words, the mote dashing around the dino’s head.
Neck-Breaker flinched. “Betraying our deal?”
Chay wanted to commend Xane for holding back with anything lethal but he had to defuse the situation first. “We were just surp-”
The Urrk reached into his belts and swiped with two arms. He ran daggers across the throats of Goro and Marcus who were closest.
“Let me feast on the blood of gods! Hahaha!”
Xane’s butterfly landed on the Drake’s face and detonated as ice.
Goro’s throat barely bled. His skin was already knitting itself back together. Muscles pulsing with frenzy, the berserker fly-swung around with an outstretched leg. His foot met the Drake’s frozen head and ripped it off.
The iced dino-head sailed across the camp and lost frozen bits as it bounced. Black blood welled from the tattered stump as the body dropped backward.
The drum music stopped.
“Unwise,” Chay said, looking around.
Xane crossed his arms. “Looks like Neck-Breaker got his ne-”
Chay shoved the thaum-mage along. “Here we fucking go.”
He had long analyzed the situation in the village. The guy with a heavy staff full of Kobold skulls was some kind of shaman and the second in command. But the flute player among drummers — a bard? — was who people asked for advice and permission. Also, the main cook had a small but loyal following for reasons Chay hadn’t figured out yet.
The umbralist puppeteered the shaman’s most important follower to rush the bard with a club. The puppet’s run was stumbling and awkward but that hardly mattered.
Phaser-crossbow fire zoomed from the watchtower at the entrance, failing to stop the running puppet. He got speared through the mouth by a bard-loyalist.
Chay made the Kobold next to the cook grab a shaman follower and dunked his head into boiling broth.
All-out war fell upon the camp.
“Good enough,” Chay said, leaking heavy white mist.
Marcus was knitting his own neck together with slow-mo fire and spat blood, pulled along by Xane.
“Goro, grab the guard,” Chay shouted and snatched his books from the ground.
He unfolded the fan on his wrist and blew a stretch of mist across the camp to hide their retreat and cause more confusion.
They ran toward a cave tunnel entrance where t-rex sentries in iron harnesses were now fighting each other.
The demigods entered the crawlway.