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An army of brutes awaits a morning assault outside of the kingdom’s gates, so the high sorcerer extracts a sample of the king’s seed and transports it into each of the invader’s bellies to be rapidly impregnated.
—–
Alistair, the King, stood, stoney-faced, hand clutching his chin, as he glared out dew-covered windows from the high peak of the war room. His advisors, the head of the Royal guard and the high sorcerer all stood leaning over a grand, wooden table, laden with models of the castle walls, the larger kingdom and its outer fields. They’d been at it for days, knowing the math simply would not work out in their favor.
Now, the torches of the barbarian army were visible, even from what once felt like an invulnerable position amongst the clouds, inside of stone walls. By morning, they were sure to reach the outer gate. The people had been ordered to shelter behind the second wall and the army was stationed along each of three walls that surrounded the castle circumferentially.
Scouts reported warriors, tall, furry and thick with muscle, clad in primitive armor and war paints, mainly infantrymen. Any of the more slender men within the crowd appeared to be equipped as healers. What they lacked in sophisticated armor, they made up for, in spades, with numbers. The king’s army and personal guard comprised 15,000 men – armies from nearby kingdom’s had fallen silent since a request for help was sent out by messengers – the barbarian army appeared well over 80,000, by the scouts’ best estimates … and they brought war elephants to demolish the walls.
As the advisors murmured to one another, Raynard, the sorcerer, slinked away and approached the king’s side by the window. ‘You know, Your Majesty,’ the man purred. ‘I know the counsel is often remiss to make use of magical solutions, but I do have a potential way out of the oncoming slaughter. One for which I have all the supplies I need … and one where you come out of this with an exponentially larger army.’
Alistair grimaced. Raynard was indeed a capable wielder of magic, but agreeing to his solutions was sometimes like making a deal with genie. The full consequences were not always immediately obvious. He nodded for Raynard to at least continue his explanation.
“You, Your Majesty, have an impressive army, but it’s no secret that it is one of the smaller armies in the region. It is likely why the barbarian horde targeted us first. If we could maintain the excellent quality of your army but expand its numbers, you would surely be untouchable in the future.”
“And how are we to survive to this future, Raynard?” The king replied.
“Well, Sir. I would go so far as to say that your impressive sons are some of the most capable in the kingdom’s army. I do have a way where we could … multiply that awesome potential … AND incapacitate the enemy at our gates.”
“I very much doubt any of their people will capitulate to our side, particularly in enough numbers to turn the tide. And what is this about my sons, Raynard?”
“My King, if you’ll allow me a sample of your … Royal Seed … I will cast a spell to disperse your many seeds into the bellies of each of those barbarians you see down there. They will ripen in a week’s time, before they’re able to penetrate our inner walls, and we can capture the lot of them when they’ve become indisposed. The added bonus being a new army of your beautiful sons.”
Alistair stared wide-eyed, trying to process what these words meant. “This sounds like dark magic, Raynard. Will this not anger our gods?”
“All of our options are dark, your Majesty. Violence is dark. If you sew an army of your own sons, surely the people will see YOU as their God.”
The King cleared his throat and shuffled in place. His cock had pulsed in his trousers and was stiffening at Raynard’s words. After a long pause, he spoke.
“How do you need to take your sample?”
Raynard smiled and led the king from the war room, the other advisors frowning as they watched the two men excuse themselves from their company. Ten minutes later, the king was lying back on his bed, the sorcerer standing over him. His trousers were undone at the crotch and pulled down a bit, exposing his long cock and hairy bush.
Raynard took a deep breath through his nose and slowly moved his hands above Alistair’s cock, emenating a glow that spread and surrounded the king’s member too. Alistair’s breath grew quicker and his muscular body began twitching in pleasure. Suddenly he cried out and his load sprayed out into the air, where it spun in a small circle, collecting into a suspended sphere of hot seed.
Then Raynard spoke an encantation in a foreign language, sigils drawn around them on the floor glowed and magical energy pulsated through the room. The last word was shouted and his fist clamped shut, causing the king’s seed to seemingly collapse on itself before exploding outward and scattering into a trail of dust. It flew out on an open window and toward the barbarian army.
Down in the enemy’s encampment, the men sat around flames, paced about or napped as they awaited morning light. All at once, there was a yelp that roared out as each man cried out in surprise, feeling their sphincters suddenly part and a whoosh of air flood their holes. The air contained a warm presence that they each felt settle deep in their guts. Embarrassed and without explanation, they each brushed it off and continued on with their night.
The first wave of attacks came in the morning, as predicted. The king’s army held them back for nearly two days, before barbarians made it through with war elephants, that began turning the main gate into rubble. The enemy established a position within the kingdom and finished punching a larger hole in the wall before taking turns resting a short while.
“They’ve broken through, Raynard,” the king grumbled as he watched the fight from his tower.
“It worked, Alistair, I promise. The men are likely now beginning to feel quite bloated. They don’t understand it yet, but if we can hold them another day or two, they’ll be about useless in a fight.”
“We’ll see,” Alistair muttered.
At first, the barbarian men simply dealt with the bloating. They were fighting for their lives, after all. Indigestion was not a reasonable thing to complain to their commanders about. But on the third day, their armor was feeling rather snug and it was beginning to slow their movements. There was concern amongst the men about a mass food poisoning, but no excretions never came. Instead, they were forced to slow their assault as the cramping worsened and their armor grew tighter, bellies swelling bigger as the day progressed.
When the fourth day of the assault settled into evening, the assault had grinded to a halt. The barbarian army was in a panic. Some of the men had stripped out of their armor, some had burst through theirs, and others were stuck, unable to unfasten their straps. They wondered why the king’s army had decided to maintain position, rather than attack them when they appeared so vulnerable.
Day five began with an eerie start. Sunlight rose and illuminated the barbarian camps. They had almost completely taken up position inside of the kingdom’s first ring, though those who couldn’t fit remained outside of the outer wall. The men were in a pitiful state, groaning on their backs and staring up with a mix of confusion and anger, at the king’s soldiers who simply stood and watched them from atop the second wall.
The men were brutish, hairy, tall and thickly muscle-bound, just as when they had arrived. But now they were armorless, with massively round bellies, wet with sweat and covered in painful stretch marks, that shone in the early sun. Their feet had swollen and broken through their shoes, as well, and their pectorals were swollen twice their former size, nipples stretched and sore with a growing pressure behind them.
Even still, the defending army simply stated down and waited. A full day passed, and the invaders could hardly move, even to retreat. The commanders were just as indisposed and unable to give orders, anyway. On the sixth day, the men appeared as if they had each swallowed three or four watermelon whole. Exhaustion and pain overwhelmed them, resigned to resting and rubbing their swollen guts while loudly moaning in deep, growling voices. Their chests were heavy with muscle and newly blossomed tits, wide areolas leaking thin, white fluids.
Completely immobilized, the king’s army now took the opportunity to surge into the crowd, confiscating weapons and taking the war elephants into captivity. Then they organized all of the men inside the outer ring of the city, chaining their arms to fixed structures. The invaders spat and cursed, but were in no position to fight back as they were gruffly handled.
On the seventh day, the defending people began the task of erecting barriers to patch up the outer wall and gate, with no way out. They even blew up the bridge that connected the main gate over a wide and deep ravine. Finally, they connected the outer wall with the second wall via bridges so the men could still pass over the outer ring as they needed, with the intention of further fortifying and clearing the outer ring with time.
Then the night fell and the barbarian invaders reached the end of their gestation period …
Tens of thousands of burly men, chained, trapped on their backs beneath massive, swollen, taught and round guts. Big, beefy, puffy feet in the air, at the end of chubby, muscular thighs and calves, wide soles pressed against nearby walls, toes clinging tightly to whatever they could grip. Stark naked, hairy, sweaty bodies having torn through their clothes, now exposed to the night air and reflecting in the moonlight. Fattened ass cheeks squished against the ground and spilling out to either side of them as they presented their puckered holes to the air. Massively swollen chests, adorned with dark areoles, triple their original size, leaking with milk and aching to be drained.
When the last minute of the seventh day ended, the chorus of deep groans suddenly paused – then erupted into guttural screams. Soaked but tight assholes were forced to stretch as the king’s sons forced their ways down the men’s pelvis’ and towards their exit. The men squirmed and spasmed, enduring intense cramping and the sensation of being violently opened wide. They pleaded for birth, surrendered their last ounces of resistance and bore down with all their might until, finally, their assholes dilated enough to pass through the king’s new family, of which they were all now a part.
Reynard cast a spell to clean up the men and finish the birthing process. They lay in their places, heaving deep breaths and regaining their senses, their newly born sons lying atop their new bellies and nursing from their tits. While time passed, as a side effect of the magic, the men grew only fatter, weaker and more subservient to their breeder. Their tits continually filling with new milk to grow their sons. Alistair celebrated his victory, and his new family, as the kingdom cleaned up and rebuilt to house the added population. Meanwhile, the king and his sorcerer schemed about how these results might be next utilized … and repeated.
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