Chapter 9 - A Pleasure to Burn

(2K views. I'm damn surprised folks. I'm touched even. Might put these stories over on my FA account, see how they do. It's been a fun little ride: Hope the owners of the OCs enjoyed it; But it's come to a close.) 


The mage was livid. Purple in the face, and shaking. He had commanded the chains to pull Galatea from Petros so he could examine just how effective his fifth 'cover' would be. But in doing so, he observed, to his fury, that Galatea's womb hadn't received anything since the first load. In fact, the runnels of fluid he'd thought had been her own self lubcrications, had indeed such necter, but it was washing out Petros's seed from her womb.

The mage was seething at this point. His mind raced with images of what he could do to the golems to make them suffer for this humiliation. How he could make them beg for mercy. How he could RIP THEM TO PIECES FOR THIS-no.

That wouldn't do.

That would go against the plan.

He needed a true golem child alive and intact and with suitable parents. His plan demanded it. The would suffer in another way.

His eyes grew dark and it quieted the laughter that had been ringing in his ears. Petros and Galatea had been having a good row at his expense. Now they started to see what exactly sort 'man' they were held captive by.

"You did this. Galatea." He pointed at her moist mons. "To prevent me from utilizing, and consequently terminating, on my harem." His voice was slow and cold. "So I shall do, exactly that. Slowly. Repeatedly. In fact I shall bring each of them down here, one by one, to rape Petros of his seed, rape it into you, then I'll rape them to death with my staff!" His voice built up to a roar. 

There was silence in the room as both golems were, admittedly, scared at the prospect. The mage's rage face flashed to the smirk of a butler 

"Be right back." He spoke in the most polite of ice-cold tones with eyes of murder. He turned and pulled open the door.

That's when the fireball hit him.  It hit him and rolled into him, pushing him back, taking him off his feet and rolling on, between Galatea and Petros, to the back of the dungeon. 

Raenbu stood in the door way, white hot steam rose from his lips. He progressed into the room, followed shortly by Beatrix, Zeke, and a few of the goo-girls. Zeke's gloves protecting her, Beatrix gingerly yanked the nails out of Petros's hands, while Zeke worked on Galatea's shakles. She glared at him but a lightning quick whisper of condensed exposition from Beatrix dulled the look, and Galatea turned to Raenbu.

He was taller again, Almost the height of a teenage human, his tail thicker and ridged, his wings broader. He held out a hand and cupped Galatea's chin in it. She struggled to find some words to say, Raenbu found them: Next time? We bathe together. He moved close and kissed her on the lips.

His tongue was electric in her mouth, filling and fulfilling ever ache and need of taste and satisfaction. Her toes curled and cracked the stone underneath them. Her face glowed bright as he gave her a taste of magic.

"Save it for the jackass, Kid!" Zeke growled, still working on Galatea's shackles. Petros was no longer crucified to the wall, but he was still bound by other chains. "Oh shit." Zeke muttered as something began to growl from the smoldering wall.

"YOU." The mage stood up, his robes fell away. "INSUBORDINATE." His body was covered with tattoos and seals much like Galatea and Petros. "INSUFFERABLE." Seals meant to gather and store massive amounts of magical energy. "INSOLENT." To be released in time of need. "INSTIGATORS!" Or anger. 

---

Outside it was a fine evening. The birds of dusk chirpped and sang. The shopkeepers had finished cleaning up and the weekend festivities were starting to kick off. 

Then someone made a ruckus after he saw a whole pack of slimey looking women ooze away from the creepy castle. Not five minutes later, half of that castle exploded outward.

--
The dungeon was now a crater, exposed to the evening sky, the castle floors that had been above them had been sent skyward.

Galatea had tried to shield Zeke as best she could. She didn't need to. A myriad of blues and yellows formed a bubble around the human, protecting him from most of the shockwave. He was still knocked out though. Only Galatea's right arm and leg were free. 

Beatrix had freed Petros in time for him to cover her with himself when the wave hit. When the dust clear his back was torn up, but healing swiftly. 

Raenbu stood eyes open, at the Mage.

The Mage's muscles were ridiculous, undulating and flexing with every pump of blood through oversized arteries. The old bastard looked distorted, and unbalanced, one arm noticeably larger than the other, and his face slightly misshapen by the change.

"So." Raenbu spoke with power. "You show your true form:" The mage sneered, teeth jagged. "An ugly, overcompensating pile of shit!" Raenbu rushed the mage, hands flaming and body ablaze. The mage swatted at Raenbu like a pimp, but Raenbu ducked under the slap and snapped his wings out. The clawed ends raked though flesh and drew, nothing. No blood came spurting out.

"RAAAGAM!" The roar sounded like nothing, but to the mage there were words of power. A lightning ball exploded between the Mage's arms, right where Raenbu was winding up a punch. Raenbu followed through, even as the lighting cracked and surged through him. The punch barreled into the Mage's chest, knocking on his heart. The lighting faltered for a moment, before the mage recovered. 

Beatrix, distracted by Zeke's state, was slow to undo the last of the shackles on Galatea. Where the metal had bound her, her flesh was once again that old foggy metal surface. She didn't like that. 

"YAAARRGH!" In another part of the crater, Raenbu was in pain. She hated that. She took off at a run, butt naked and full of rage. Petros was beside her, his wounds sealed and a black broadsword in his hand. Galatea, in the span of a second, wondered where he'd gotten it from and how she could learn that trick, then in that same second noticed that his penis was gone. She put two and two together at the turn of one second to the next, and figured she'd do without. 

Raenbu was zapped to the side, in time for Galatea to plow her fist into the mage's face. Petros went for the Mage's juglar, and again, flesh was torn open, but no blood came oozing out. 

"FUCK!" Petro's roared. He planted his feet, blade still in the Mage's neck and thrust forward. The tree-trunk neck muscles clenched and flexed gripping the sword and stopping the thrust. "Oh" The Mage pulled back a fist. "shit." The punch sent in into a crumbling wall. 

Galatea ducked a snatching hand and took hold of Petro's sword She yanked it across, severing more of the mage's neck and turned his roars into sputtering gurgles. The blade cleared the neck, and the Mage punted her into what was left of a ceiling.

One hand gripped his head to keep it from swinging back like a hinge. The other started to draw magic in the air. A big spell: A golem killer. Then a searing bolt of fire came round. Raenbu, aflame, foot outstretched in an obvious and overcharged flame kick. 

"FUCK! YOU!"

He impacted with enough force to snap the Mage's head backwards, all the way and bounded away from him. He rolled over so he was flying backwards and upsides down, eye to eye with the mage, when he flipped him the bird and crowed:

"SAY 'SPLAT', BITCH!"

The Mage only had a moment to ponder, when the whole area went dark, and his eyes turned skyward, where the ruins of the castle were dutifully obeying the laws of gravity, motion, and karma. 

---
Epilogue:

When the dust settled, with it the sun, the Mage's lifeforce sparked and exploded under the rubble. His death was slow and messy, and his struggles clear to anyone within sight. The goo-gals watched with a girm sense of closure. Petros watched with a sad, dissapointed, look. Raenbu and Galatea were too busy 'checking over' each other for wounds, and Zeke was waking up to a blow job from Beatrix. 

Rigo felt his master's death rattle from miles away, and rather than play host to his maker's 'back up plan', allowed himself to fall apart. The wild horse creature went free and sexed up many mares in the region, leading to problems for the various horsekeepers. 

It would be inappropriate to state that 'they all lived happily ever after', because in the life of adventurers: shit happens. It's better to say, like in one not-so-old fairy tale film, that 'They lived' and that is the more important part.

THE END!


(Afterword: Thanks all ya'll for sticking through this little experiment of mine. This started out just me writing some seedy pronz for an INCREDIBLE picture by the good Cedargrove. It evolved into something that kept my brain juicy and porny it times of dry as desert academic bull-crap.

But this is not the last of the great Zeonman. Oh, no. See I've recently played a game called 'Metro: Last Light'. And out of the blue there's this scene (Spoiler: Where you get a lap dance in order to avoid being noticed by bad guys /spoiler).

So it got my porny senses tingling. More on that, Coming soon: METRO 2040: MANHATTAN))


See you real soon.