Kasyn, the Spunk-Prince

This morning, from Kyler’s journal…

A messenger boy moans and coos underneath me. He’s bent over my desk and his ass is so slender that my dong looks almost too thick to fit inside it, but he takes it easily. He’s brought me a message from the Chaos Ejaculatum, one “inviting” me to an “interview” with their Inquisition at the Holy Keep. The boy is about the same age as my sons, though he is much shorter and less well-muscled, but I like his lean faery form, or my dick does anyway. I thrust a little faster, and he gasps and he asks me if I’m going to cum inside him. He says, “Please do it, Prince Kyler! Fill me with it.” After I do—in a few long spurts—I turn him around, his ass on my desktop leaking my spunk, and I go to my knees and take his pole in my mouth. Like the rest of him, it’s almost too slender, but it’s wide arrowhead is wrapped completely in foreskin, puckered over his cum-slit, and he seems to like it when I work my tongue underneath that skin and tease his slick drippy head. Just a little bit of this work makes him squirt, and I slurp down his cream. I thank him for the fuck, and he thanks me as well, and I let him dress and get on to his next assignment. I sit at my desk and smear a finger over the wet spot his ass left there. I wipe it off onto the letter from the Inquisition and prepare my reply.

The day before…

Kyler lounged in the lower garden, sipping prosecco, awaiting his visitor. When she appeared, he said, “And who the fuck are you?”

She grinned and said, “Lord Kyler, you are just as charming as your reputation suggests.” She took the seat across the low table from him. “I think you know me.”

“I know what you look like,” said Kyler, noting her conservative business suit and severe platinum hair, pulled into a bun. “But we have never met before.”

“My name is Corvis. You know my sister Magran very well.”

“I was told,” saidKyler, “that I was to expect an Inquisitor from the Chaos Ejaculatum. Are you witches now so bound up with their hokum that they have sent you, a sister of the nektonic coven, as their agent?”

Corvis laughed and helped herself to a glass of wine from the bottle on the table. “I interceded. I found their notion of sending Inquisitor to you to be unproductive.”

“How thoughtful of you.” Kyler lit a cigarette and drew deeply of its narcowhirl-laced smoke. “Let me save you the trouble of asking after Magran. I have no idea where she is. We’ve not seen her in weeks.”

Corvis sipped her wine. She said, “I think you're lying, Lord Kyler. I think you know exactly what happened to her. But that is not why I am here. There is someone else of our mutual acquaintance that I wonder about. Have you seen in the last few days a young priest?”

“Can you be more specific?” Kyler dragged upon his smoke. “Priests bother us constantly. This is an Aetheric House, you know.”

Corvis smiled tightly. She said, “I think you’d remember this one: a young boy, very pretty, tattooed heavily with the marks of the Cult Cthulhu. Just your sort of thing, I suspect. His name is Elisha and he was, to my knowledge,  seen here very recently and with Magran.”

“You know very well, Corvis, that Cthulhist priests hide their faces beneath their cowls even while exposing most of the rest of their decorated skin. Even if this Cult boy had been here with Magran, I would have no idea who he was, and I certainly wouldn’t have been told his name.”

“You’re still lying, Lord Kyler.” Corvis poured herself another glass of prosecco and helped herself to one of Kyler’s cigarettes. “What if I told you that I know that this same priest came here later, demanded an audience with you, an audience that you granted?” She sipped at her wine and added, “And that you physically assaulted him in your throne room and pulled off his mask? I think you would recognize him if you were to see him again.” She exhaled smoke and reclined in her chair. “As I said, I think he is just your type.”

Kyler sighed. “Let’s get to business, then. Why are you really here, and what do you expect to take away from this meeting?”

“Oh, just a few small things, Lord Kyler. I want to know the truth of what you did to Magran, and I want to know what that has to do with some very unusual children that I know you to be housing in your compound.”

“There are no literal children here.” Kyler lit another cigarette.

“That,” said Corvis, “is what’s so concerning. We hear that your husband’s six pups have all grown into maturity already, in a matter of days. Further, we know that Kasyn Mutara’s sperm is the reason for this anomaly.” 

“And that is your business how?” Kyler reached for the bottle, was annoyed that it was empty, and he signaled a houseboy to bring another. A few moments later, a youth clad only in a harness and a jock strap set down two more chilled bottles before his prince. Kyler winked at the lad and mouthed “later” at him, and waved him away. To Corvis, he continued, “Even if Kasyn has some kind of special super-sperm that can make Moon boys  have very short pregnancies and kids that grow up very fast, I can’t fathom how that falls under the purview of the Inquisition or of your coven. Not everyone subscribes to your magical thinking, witch.”

Corvis leaned forward, as if needing to see Kyler better. She said, “We—my sisters and I—obviously do not take seriously the ideology of the Church of Penultimate Dildo nor that of their Cult Cthulhu allies (a temporary alliance, you can bet), but no one can dispute their role in care-taking the survival of the human race through the Chaos Age and the Age of Sterility when barely any men at all had viable sperm. And you can admit that they made many concessions to reality during that period, such as their ongoing tolerance of the rampant male homosexuality in the Aetheric Houses and within the Cult Cthulhu.”

Kyler laughed. “As if we care whether they ‘tolerate’ it or not!”

“It was not that many centuries ago, Lord Kyler, when a prince like yourself, with your well-known sexual tastes, would have been removed from power by the Inquisition and executed on the Frame of Discipline in a most horrific manner.”

“Yes, well that was centuries ago. We have thankfully moved past such nonsense, but don’t think for a moment that I cannot hold a bit of an historical grudge over it. I know the history of my family very well, Corvis, and one of the first lessons I learned was that of a grandfather about thirty generations ago who was killed by the Inquisition when he was a still a teenager over charges of sodomy and witchcraft.” He refilled his glass to the top, bubbles bursting over its rim. “But we are atheists now, and we are outside the reach of these Stone Age barbarians, and they should consider themselves fortunate that it is we who continue to tolerate them existing among us!” Kyler was surprised that Corvis had no immediate reply beyond a wan smile. “Tell me, Corvis—and I ask you this knowing that you will report to your handlers in that fucking Church!—how many troops does the Pope have? How many soldiers can the Inquisitors of his Chaos Ejaculatum call to duty? I am the Aetheric Lord Prince of a city of nearly three hundred million people…and I am very popular.”

Corvis shrugged, swallowed some wine and lit another cigarette. “You have no standing army, Kyler. Your power persists only through the force of tradition and illusion. It’s like the homage you Aetheric Princes still pretend to pay to your long-dead Emperor on Mars and his long-vacant seat.”

“We’ll see soon enough, witch, who is correct.”

Corvis rose from her seat, evidently calling an end to this interview. “Yes,” she said, “we will see.”

Meanwhile in a hotel suite in the Inner Village…

Jaustin Moss felt resplendent in his naked and horny glory, his heavily inked torso shimmering with sweat, his dirty blond hair flying high over his pretty face, his enormous blood-swollen cock hanging like a venom-dripping snake over the face of his newest fuck, the young Cthulhist priest Elisha. “You’re pissed off,” he said, “that I don’t even give a fuck who you are or why you are here.” He spat on Elisha’s chest. “You feel demeaned and worthless because all you are to me is a random fag who ended up in my hotel room.”

“And you,” said Elisha, his voice raspy from narcowhirl smoke and fuck-exhaustion, having taken Jaustin’s giant never-softening cock a dozen times already, “are so fucking wrong. Or maybe you are too fucking stupid to understand what’s going on in your world.”

Jaustin laughed loudly, and for an extended minute, and he eventually flopped down onto the bed next to Elisha. He pulled the priest’s mouth to his and forced a boozy kiss onto his tongue. “Tell me, then,” he said, “what is going on in my world!”

Elisha sat up and then surprised Jaustin by rolling on top of him, straddling his waist, Elisha’s thighs pressed against Jaustin’s. “Listen to me,” said Elisha. “We are—both of us!—the fucked-out rape-victims of the Aetheric Lord Prince Kyler who somehow rules this city and eats boys like us as candy.”

Jaustin started to laugh, but it was more like a reflex, humorless, and it died in his throat in a moment. He said, “Aetheric Lords? Why would I give a shit? Who is this Lord Kyler anyway? What in the shitting fuck are you even talking about?”

“A fucking witch, who is in league with my Church, took my balls. Cut them right out of my sack.” Elisha saw—or at least imagined—Jaustin blanch beneath him. “Have you ever heard of such an atrocity?”

Jaustin seemed to sink into the mattress beneath his inquisitor, and he said, “Well, you clearly have balls now.”

“And so do you. Clearly.”

Jaustin squirmed under Elisha and said, “I’ve always had big fat nuts.”

“But not always the ones that you have now!”

Jaustin lifted himself up and threw Elisha off, onto his back on the bed. “What do you fucking know about it, bitch?”

Elisha rose first to his knees and then to his feet, standing on the bed astride Jaustin Moss. He gripped his heavy ballsack and said, “I know that I have your balls now!” He spat, spattering Jaustin’s face, and he said, “I think you and I need to have a little talk!”

From Kyler’s journal…

I was surprised when Naxon asked to spend a portion of the evening with Kasyn and me, just the three of us, and I found that I was both thrilled and somewhat nervous because I suspected that the purpose of this meeting was to show us his new physical features. Well, the major tell was a footnote to his message in which he advised that we have condoms on hand.

Kasyn frowned at this but I warned him that under no circumstances was he to attempt to fuck Naxon in his new state without wrapping his dick first: “You are not—at least for a long time—to get anyone else pregnant, and most particularly not my son!” His brood of orchid boys remained a puzzle box that I’d not yet unlocked. I had not yet told him about Blue Radical’s revelation that he’d given Jaustin Moss cloned copies of Kasyn’s nuts and that this could even further complicate our current events. 

Kasyn sighed and stepped over to his bureau and opened a drawer. He withdrew a plastic sack stuffed with strips of rubbers. “I still have all of these that Dak bought before we fucked those orchids in the Inner Village.” He smiled widely and added, “Obviously we did not use any of them.”

“Obviously!” And I found myself just staring at my husband as he set the bag of rubbers down on the chest at the end of our bed and stepped over to the mirror to fuss with his hair a bit, and I enjoyed every bit of his beauty: that shiny black hair in its tousled mess, the bulges of his bare biceps and deltoids, the way his tight sleeveless tunic hugged his pecs and abs, the heavy bulge of his penis and his balls in his black denim shorts, the muscled globes of his calves, his slender ankles and his just-slightly-too-big but perfectly-formed bare feet on the shiny wooden planks of the floor. For a moment, I almost wished that we were not expecting Naxon and that instead I would have beautiful Kasyn all to myself for the rest of the evening. But the bell chimed and Kasyn ducked out into the anteroom to admit our guest.

I heard Kasyn and Naxon giggling out there, probably greeting each other with wet kisses. A couple moments later, Kasyn led my son by the hand into the room. The boy was dressed in a sleeveless top similar to Kasyn’s and a very short black kilt, his feet bare. His hair was slightly tamed by a couple osmium barrettes and I was struck by how red and full his lips appeared to be. I noticed that he carried in his hand—the one not clasped in Kasyn’s—a large black wine bottle. “What’s that?” I asked.

Naxon stepped close to me and kissed me on each cheek. He said, “You won’t believe it.” He handed me the bottle and, indeed, it was hard to believe. This was not a bottle of wine but rather an ancient bottle of a Venusian absinthe called aqua enphasma. “Where did you find this?” There’d been none on Earth to my knowledge since I was Naxon’s age, and I’d drunk most of the last one in a days-long binge with a lover. 

Naxon laughed and reached around to smack my ass with an open palm. “In your cellar, Kyler! And there’s twelve more down there! You may want to fetch them up here before my brothers find out about it!”

I’ll admit that I’d not been personally down in that cellar in many years—a wine cellar located somewhere beneath the foundation of the main house even deeper than the hidden swimming pool and as deep as the family necropolis. It was my father’s hobby, this wine collecting, and I’d dismissed it as a boring affectation given that there is plenty of decent wine easily gotten from the wine merchant and without having to descend into a dank crypt hundreds of meters below the house. And I’d long assumed that most of what remained down there must have aged into vinegar or utter rancidity by now. I imagined it as a cobwebbed maze of desiccated wooden racks, bottles rimed with decades of dust and mold, their corks being pushed out slowly by decay or turning to dust in the necks of their bottles. “You went down into that cellar?” I nearly burst out laughing at the mental image of my very strong yet very fey son, who disdained potting a plant because of how dirty it made his fingernails, rooting about in that moldering cellar looking for these bottles. 

“Of course not!” he said, and he punched me lightly in the belly. “I told a houseboy who works on those levels that I’d blow him if he could find me a bottle of aqua enphasma in the cellar. He brought me the bottle and I got a mouthful of his cum.”

I laughed. “An excellent bargain! I am almost proud of you, my eldest son.” 

Naxon leaned in and kissed me again, this time wetly on my mouth. “Never forget that I am your eldest!” This was an old jest between us: Naxon was the first-born of my five sons, but only by two days—when Phobos and Dak emerged—and three days when Daemon and Torus were born at nearly the same moment.

(A footnote, brought to mind by recalling their birth-order: Naxon and Phobos, as they grew, were a bit more precocious than their three slightly younger brothers as they entered puberty. When Doctor Phibes examined all five of them, he assessed that Phobos and Naxon were right at the edge of puberty, and could have their first ejaculations and first sprouts of pubic hair at any moment, while for Daemon, Dak and Torus it could still be another six months to a year. So I told him to apply an acceleration technique to those three so that they would catch up. I wanted all five of them to mature at roughly the same time so that they could all undergo their sexual education together.)

Naxon shed his tunic, exposing his taut abdominal and back muscles, and he carried the bottle to the bar, where he carefully removed the lead around its top and very gently removed its cork. “Father,” he said, “I know that Blue Radical informed you of my procedure, and I apologize for not having told you in advance—or since—about it.” He poured tiny shots of the iridescent liquid, distilled perhaps a thousand years ago, into three heavy-bottomed glasses. “But I wanted to show you in person how happy I am with it.”

“I think,” said Kasyn, “that you are a sweetheart.”

“That’s not,” replied Naxon, “what you said the other day when you spanked me with the paddle.”

My cock stiffened in my jock. I had not known that Kasyn had paddled Naxon so recently. 

“Well, you were being not a sweetheart that day!” Kasyn and I accepted glasses from Naxon. We three clinked our glasses together and swallowed the ancient Venusian liquor. It was as I remembered: a sudden rush of heat directly to the face and neck and a tingle all the way down from gullet to cock. The boy had found a perfect lubricant prior to showing me what he was here to show me.

“May I take your hand, Kyler?” said Naxon, drawing once again very close. He took my fingers in his and guided them under his kilt, in between his hard-muscled thighs, and then up into his crotch. He pressed two of fingers upward and inward, behind his ballsack and into that space where I’d normally expect to feel his sweaty taint, but it was wetter now, and softer now. Two of my fingers slipped into a warm sheath that was not there before and is not there in the crotches of most boys. 

As soon as I uttered the words, “I bet Torus is very happy with this,” I regretted the clumsy infelicity of that remark, but sweet Naxon nodded and said, “He probably still likes the ‘normal’ hole better, but he likes the new variety of fucking available to him.”

Torus dropped his kilt, leaving himself entirely naked. Kasyn followed quickly, peeling off his tunic and tugging down his tight shorts. Naxon lay on his back on my bed, knees raised, his legs spread. Kasyn hopped onto the bed and pressed his face into Naxon’s crotch and, I assumed, licked the boy’s labia, pressed his tongue into his stepson’s vagina. I removed my shorts and my jock and joined them on the bed. Gently I nudged Kasyn aside and went down on Naxon, into that new space behind his heavy ballsack. Naxon cried out with pleasure when I pressed my tongue into the fold of his cunt. I was previously very familiar with all the flavors of this boy’s body, having swallowed floods of his semen, having licked the sweat from his armpits and the nape of his neck, having drunk his spit and his piss, having eaten his asshole scores of times…but this was new: a faintly spicy and sweet flavor coated my tongue, carried by a honey-slick gloss, as he got ever wetter, his body anticipating the entry of our cocks. 

Kasyn unwrapped a condom and rolled it over his dong, which stood livid and shiny, encased in the transparent rubber. He passed one to me and, as I unwrapped it, I told him to spit on the head of my cock. I pulled the ring of the condom over my fat arrowhead, trapping Kasyn’s spit inside it, adding its extra warm lube to the slick film inside the rubber. I penetrated Naxon first, arching over him, pressing into his depth until every inch of my cock was sheathed in his new cunt. I regretted somewhat the practical necessary of the rubber covering my dick, but the minor annoyance was worth it to experience this strange new way of fucking this boy. He moaned with joy beneath me as I gave about a dozen quick thrusts before withdrawing and giving Kasyn a turn. We alternated like this for several rounds, my husband and I alternately boning sweet Naxon, who grinned and cried and sweated beneath us, and told us both how much he loved us, how much he loved our cocks inside him. 

I pulled out after perhaps my third or fourth turn inside him, still withholding my climax and Naxon said, “I have an idea. Get on your back, Kyler. I’ll ride you and Kasyn can take me from behind at the same time.” I recalled the time a few weeks before when Kasyn and I had double-dicked Daemon, jamming both our rods into the kid’s ass at the same time. This would be a bit different.

I lay down and gripped my pre-jac-dripping prong, still clad in the condom, making it stand straight up. Naxon easily took it back inside, straddling my waist, gazing down at me with amusement and love. He leaned forward and downward, his face to mine, and he kissed me, sliding his tongue into my mouth. I felt Kasyn behind him, getting into position. I couldn’t see what he was doing from my position, but I certainly felt it when he pushed his prick into Naxon’s asshole. Kasyn groaned and yelled, “oh, fuck yeah, kiddo!” and Naxon laughed, still drooling into my mouth. I remained nearly still, my cock fully encased in the boy’s hot slick vagina, but Kasyn thrusted with urgency and it was almost as if I could feel his cock sliding directly against mine, so thin was the barrier of Naxon-flesh between them. I heard him say, “I’m gonna fucking cum, Kyler!” I told him that I was going to as well, and then Naxon did: jizz fountained from his thick knob, spattering my belly and my chest. He grabbed it, slicked his spilled semen over it and jerked on it a few times and shot another heavy round of thick white ball-snot. Kasyn cried out that he was blowing his load and I lost control of mine, too, and we both shuddered in our climaxes inside Naxon’s cunts. Kasyn withdrew and Naxon rolled off of me onto his back next to me. He reached over and, with his slender fingertips, smeared his spunk over my skin, teased my nipples with his sticky cream, pinching them almost hard enough to sting.

Kasyn and I still had condoms on our cocks, both of them hanging full, their reservoir tips blown full like little white balloons, barely containing our tremendous nut-loads. Kasyn carefully rolled his down and off, preserving the bulb of semen inside. He dangled it over Naxon’s face. “You want it?”

Naxon grinned and nodded and opened his mouth. Kasyn spilled the spunk onto Naxon’s lips and chin. I removed my own rubber and I did the same, dropping most of my jizz onto his forehead and combing it into his thick hair with my fingers.

“So perfect!” Naxon sighed. “I have to admit I was afraid you guys would somehow bust through those rubbers: your dicks are both really big and you cum so hard!”

I asked him if his brother and soon-to-be-husband Torus gets the privilege of fucking him bareback. “Not yet,” he said. “When I am ready—after our wedding—I want him to knock me up, but not before then.” He laughed and added, “But then when I’m pregnant, all of you can have at me, no condoms required!”

Before the evening ended in sleep, we used several more of Kasyn’s stock of rubbers, but plenty remained for another occasion.

Meanwhile in a hotel suite in the Inner Village…

Jaustin and Elisha are dead asleep when a sextet of armor-clad and helmeted men bust into their bedroom. They wake up, bleary-eyed and naked atop the sheets, when one of those men opens the blinds and let in the midday sun. Jaustin starts to say “who the fuck are you” but Elisha clumps a hand over his soft mouth. And then one of the helmeted men says, “You, Jaustin Moss, and you, Elisha Brace, are requested and required to report for an interview with His Lord, the Aetheric Prince Kyler.” Two of the men unholster pistols, and the one speaking adds, “Your immediate cooperation will be both required and appreciated.”

Kyler replies to the interview request from the Chaos Ejaculatum:

“Thank you for your interest, but it will be quite impossible for me to accommodate your interview request at this time, so busy is my schedule. I suspect that this conflict of schedule will persist for some time—maybe even forever—but perhaps you can one day send the Pope Himself here to see me.

“Sincerely, ae Kyler, Prince and Lord Et Cetera”

To be continued…