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Phainon shakes his head, struggling to open his eyes. His mind is foggy, his thoughts scrambled. He can’t quite recall what happened. One moment, he was talking to Mydei, and the next—
He jolts as something touches his leg. Not something, but someone. He knows exactly whose fingers those are. Too warm to touch, too familiar, making goosebumps appear on his skin.
“My—dei?” he whispers, squinting into the darkness. A cloth is wrapped tightly around his head, denying him any vision no matter how hard he tries to peek through.
“Mydei, what are you—?”
The fingers trace up his leg. Phainon shudders. What kind of a game is this? If only he could remember what happened. He was talking to Mydei, and then… nothing. He’s drawing a blank. Had he fallen unconscious? But that seems highly unlikely. Why would he—
“You are awake, Deliverer.”
Phainon swallows. Mydei sounds strange, not quite like himself. His voice is deeper, echoing, almost otherworldly. Phainon knows Mydei, knows him so well, yet suddenly it’s as if he’s hearing a stranger. A hand rests on his thigh. Phainon tries to move away, but the fingers dig into his supple flesh.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Phainon freezes. That sounds like a command, an ultimatum.
“Mydei, what is this? What are you doing?”
He desperately tries to remember what happened. He met Mydei for a regular date. They laughed, they talked, shared a drink—
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Was he poisoned?
Is this a dream?
Phainon tugs at his hands. They are bound above his head, almost impossible to move. He pulls, straining against the restraints, but the chain rattles, making his blood run cold.
“Try as hard as you can, Deliverer, you will never be able to break my shackles.”
Those words are dark, menacing. Whoever this is, it’s not Mydei. Panic clenches at Phainon’s heart; fear creeps into his mind.
Who has taken over Mydei and what do they want with him?
“Ok, I admit, I’ve lost this time,” he says with a light hearted chuckle. Even if he’s dying a little inside, he tries to keep his tone bright. Surely this is just some wicked game, some strange dream, or a flicker of his imagination. Surely, if he just asks nicely, Mydei will let him go. Surely—
“Deliverer, those words are so nice to hear. If you’ve given up then we shall have no hard feelings moving forward.”
The hand on his hip slides to his inner thigh. Phainon shudders at the touch. Of course he’s dreamed about this happening, but not like this, not in such a crude way.
“Mydei—“
“Deliverer.”
The hand lands on his crotch, fingers pressing down, tracing the outline of his traitorous cock. He’s already painfully hard and Phainon squirms to get away.
“Please..”
“Please what?”
Phainon shivers. That damned voice. It’s still Mydei’s. The hands are still Mydei’s. This is still Mydei, and he wants him with every fiber of his being. And yet, he’s supposed to pretend he does not.
"Let me go."
"But that’s not what you really want, is it?"
A calloused finger tips up his chin. The blindfold is yanked from his eyes, and it’s a shock when the other comes into his view. Sky blue eyes meet molten gold. Phainon is absolutely entranced.
"No, but—"
"Then say it. What do you want?”
Phainon bites his lip. He can not. This is not the time, nor the place for it. He has more self-control than this. He is the perfect Chrysos heir, he is the hero of Okhema.
Mydei sighs.
“And this is why I had to take over. This useless boy just didn’t know what to do. His desire is strong, yet he is too nice. I’ll let him return once I’m done with you.”
“What are you?”
Phainon doesn’t get to finish his thought as full lips crash into his own. Teeth graze his own, he winces at the feeling. It’s not sweet, it’s claiming, a show of ownership and desire.
“Let me take care of you, my love.” Mydei says as he pulls back. Phainon’s breath catches in his chest. Love. His mind is reeling, spiralling.
“You’re so perfect.”
His mouth is claimed again, the other’s kiss hard and possessive. Phainon’s lips feel raw when they part, his breathing ragged as his chest heaves. His cheeks burn hot, his gaze glazed, he needs this more than he wants to admit.
"Please."
"Use your words, my love. Didn't I already tell you? Please what?"
Phainon looks away. He closes his eyes, letting himself be consumed by this feeling. What does he want? What does he desire? Is this not his chance to let go?
"I want—"
Is he allowed to want? Is he allowed to want something for once? Or is that too much to ask for, too selfish, too ignorant, too unheroic?
Lips find his neck, tracing over his mark, while long fingers unfasten his collar. A bite, sharp, but not enough to draw blood. Another. Phainon lets out an ungodly moan.
It's too good. It's too much. He shouldn't. He cannot. And yet—
“Take me.”
"I can do that," Mydei mutters against his neck. "Even more." His lips trace down the expanse of skin. "I will love you exactly as you deserve."
Phainon hiccups, trying to hold back the whimpers. No, he will not cry; he will not show his weakness. No matter how vulnerable he feels, he is still strong, still worthy of praise.
"Mydei—"
A finger is pressed to his lips, Mydei’s eyes glowing gold.
"Not Mydei," comes the reply. "But you can pretend all you want if that makes you feel any better. He wanted to do this as well, Deliverer, but he was just too much of a coward."
He is kissed again, hands at his hips, peeling away his pants and undergarments. The decorative belts snap under the force, his shirt disappearing soon after.
"You like a bit of pain, don't you?" The grip tightens; the blunt nails dig into his skin. Phainon shudders.
He shouldn't, he shouldn't. And yet—
"I'll make you forget.”
Phainon goes slack.
Sure hands part his legs, heat blooming where the fingers glide over.
"I want to feel you."
Phainon opens his mouth, only for his words to be swallowed by another kiss. He moans, leaning into the touch. He wishes his hand were free to roam.
Mydei’s skin is burning hot as thick fingers wrap around his cock. He strokes Phainon a couple of times before his fingers slide lower. They tug on his balls, electing more whimpers. A finger drifts down to the sensitive spot beneath his sack, then even lower to his hole. He’s never had anyone touch him there.
"Pristine and virginal, just for me. To claim. To breed, my precious Deliverer."
Phainon chokes. No no, he really needs to stop. He needs to stop before this goes too far. This is absurd, shameless, absolutely disgusting. So why can’t he muster a sound of protest, no matter how hard he tries?
The fingers are gone, and Phainon whines.
He wants them back. He needs them back. Why have they not breached him yet?
"Some oil for the start," Mydei is back almost as quickly as he disappeared. His hand glistens as he positions himself between Phainon's legs once again. "Only until we get things going. You'll be plenty wet after that."
The fingers return, slick, circling his rim and tracing slowly over each sensitive fold. Phainon shudders. He wants it, he needs it.
"Please, inside," he whispers to himself.
"Soon, my sweet, pretty boy."
A kiss. Phainon’s eyes flutter shut. His thoughts are barely coherent at this point. He’s so hot he thinks he might explode, his body burning with every circle Mydei’s fingers trace.
Mydei’s lips leave his mouth, trailing kisses down his neck. Then, at his collarbone, he bites down, a sharp, deep pressure that draws blood. Phainon gasps, a finger slides inside — his mind short-circuits, his vision goes black. It feels good, but the pressure makes everything spotty. He’s so hard he thinks he could come from a single touch.
Phainon tugs helplessly at his restraints, desperate to touch himself.
“Mydei, please.”
Another finger. Too fast, too much. Phainon gasps as he shakes in the other’s grasp, thighs quivering as he tries to close them.
“You will only come on my fingers or you will not come at all.”
The heat flooding his cheeks spreads through his entire body, his cock weeping, his insides churning. He wants to come so much, so so much it’s all that he can think about.
Mydei curls the fingers inside him, pressing into his sensitive spot. The heat deep inside uncoils and spreads quickly, and Phainon comes with a scream. He blanks out for a moment, his entire body trembling, then going slack. It's too intense, he can feel every nerve ending lighting up, pricking his skin, making him shake.
He’s never come so hard in his life.
And now, he can’t go back. He needs more.
“Mydei—”
The fingers inside of him are relentless, carving their path deeper, stretching him. It’s too much, Phainon sobs. He wants to die, yet he never wants it to end.
“More.”
“I’ll give you so much more.”
Another finger. Phainon feels too full. His cock twitches uselessly at every calculated push. He feels the thickness of those digits, the rough drag of skin against sensitive muscle. He needs a break, wants a break, but knows he won’t be given one.
“More.”
“Insatiable.”
He knows he is. But once the floodgates are open, the desires simply won’t stop. He’s drowning in pleasure and an endless, ravenous hunger for more.
“Fuck me. Fuck me, Mydei, please.”
One more. Four thick digits now are inside of him, stretching him, opening him wider and wider for what’s to come. He needs it. He needs it more than he needs to breathe. He needs that cock inside of him now.
“It’s enough. I’m ready. Mydei—”
“You’ll make me jealous calling his name like that,” the man smirks, grabbing Phainon’s jaw. “You truly must love him. Don’t you, Deliverer?”
Phainon sobs. He had almost forgotten. This isn’t Mydei, no matter how much he wishes it to be. But he can’t muster enough strength to care anymore, he will just have to pretend.
“It doesn’t matter…”
“It really does not.”
The fingers are yanked out of him roughly, replaced by two hands gripping his hips. He is dragged forward, bent in half, his hole wide and exposed as his knees meet his ears.
“What—?”
“I will breed you well.”
The man’s cock comes into view. Phainon knows Mydei is well endowed, but even so, he seems larger now. He swallows hard. Is that even going to fit? He’ll feel it in his throat.
“It’ll only hurt at first. Then I’ll fuck you open loose and pliant.”
Phainon bites back a whimper. It sounds so good. He should be ashamed of how he feels, and yet he doesn’t care one bit.
“Please.”
“So sweet.”
The large cockhead is positioned at his entrance, the rim clenching for several seconds before finally yielding. He feels it breaching him, filling him — slow, painful inch by inch, invading his insides as if it belongs there.
It burns.
Phainon clenches his teeth. Tears spring to his eyes.
It burns.
“That’s it, Deliverer. You’re doing so well.”
Mydei keeps pressing inside; the feeling is too foreign, too invasive to be comfortable. A shuddering breath escapes Phainon. He has to relearn how to breathe.
Mydei keeps pushing. He’s at his limit. Sweat dots his forehead. He can’t possibly take more.
And yet Mydei keeps going, pressing even deeper, taking up space Phainon doesn’t have to give.
“W-wait.”
“There’s no going back now, my love.”
Tears spill down his cheeks. It’s too much; he’s going to choke on it, he’s too open, too filled.
“I can’t.”
“You can. And you will. You were made for this.”
Phainon shakes his head. No. He was not. He was wrong, he was too arrogant, he wasn’t ready.
Nails dig into the soft underside of his thighs, making him scream as another inch fills him. His lips are seized in a searing kiss, sharp teeth grazing sensitive flesh.
“N-no.”
But he’s still hard, his cock swollen and angrily red. With every inch, his body trembles, reshaping, adjusting to take it all.
He is made for this. He will submit — his body and his mind entirely surrendered.
“Good, just a little bit more.” Words of praise are whispered in his ear. He is panting, sweat trickling down his temple, pooling in the hollow of his neck.
“You’re perfect.”
Finally, Mydei bottoms out, his balls pressed flush against Phainon’s ass. He sighs in relief, chest shuddering. He needs a moment—
Mydei pulls out, then slams his full length back inside.
Phainon throws his head back, mouth open, no sound coming out.
There is no respite, no break. Mydei pulls out and thrusts back in, again and again, until Phainon sees stars. His eyes roll back, drool trickling over his lips.
He can’t speak, he can’t think, all he can do is whine. Tears and sweat mix together, his face a mess as he gasps for air.
It’s so much, it’s too much, he can’t take it…
“Mydei!” he screams as he comes, body lurching forward, held back only by the shackles still around his wrists. His legs tremble; his hole flutters, trying desperately to clamp down. Yet Mydei keeps plowing his insides roughly, pulling out and driving back inside.
Phainon cries out, thrashing in his restraints, the sensitivity so much he thinks he will lose his mind.
He needs a break, he can’t keep going, he needs—
“More!”
The hard cock fills him again, Mydei stopping abruptly as his balls rest against his ass. He grinds deep inside, then shudders, coming, filling Phainon up.
It’s so much, Phainon can feel it flooding his insides. He chokes, overwhelmed by the sheer amount.
He shudders, coming dry once again, slumping into the covers from the forced relief. He’s floating, his mind empty, his body thrumming with the pleasure he’s been given.
“We are just getting started, my love.” Mydei whispers as he leans over him. Phainon can feel the shackles being removed and he sighs with relief at his newfound freedom.
He wraps his arms around the warm body, pulling Mydei closer to himself.
He wants everything this man can give. He will take all that Mydei has to offer.
“Do you love me?”
“I love you so much.”
The cock inside of him stirs again.
—
He doesn’t know how much time has passed. His mind can barely keep up. It must have been hours, yet Mydei is still going, relentlessly pumping him full of cum. Another thrust, another load spills inside him, painting his insides white. He’s so full he feels nauseous, his belly swollen and taut.
“Keep up, Deliverer, we’re just getting started,” Mydei says as he grabs his face. Phainon can’t keep his eyes open, his head lolling uselessly to the side.
“Please—no— no more," he chokes out, his body jolting with every thrust. The sounds reverberating through the room are obscene, Mydei’s cock pushing through his slick, squelching insides.
“I’m too—full,” he slurs, barely conscious, the pressure in his abdomen too much.
“You’re nowhere near full enough. You were made for this, my love.”
Phainon sobs, on the verge of blacking out, every inch of his skin painfully sensitive.
“Please, please—” is all he can say, tears streaming down his face. “Please!”
And the next moment Mydei’s cock is gone. Seed gushes from his insides in a constant stream. The pressure eases and Phainon lets out a grateful sob. Finally, finally the nightmare is—
“This won’t do. You’re too weak. Your body can endure much more than this.”
The world tilts, and the next moment, Phainon finds himself on his hands and knees.
“What are you—“
The cock enters him again, a heated rod slamming deep inside. He screams at the intensity, his arms giving out as he collapses face-first onto the mattress. Hands clamp tightly around his hips, holding him in place as his ass is taken with force. All he can do is babble incoherently as he’s pierced thoroughly, over and over.
“Mydei, Mydei, Mydei,” he chants. He doesn’t even care what has taken over his mind. He needs to be bred, needs that seed, needs to be full and pregnant for the rest of his life.
“Deliverer, my good, good boy. My beautiful, perfect, beloved creation.”
“Mydei—”
A few more deep, punishing thrusts and he’s filled again, more seed trickling down his thighs. They tremble, barely able to hold him upright. He would fall if not for the death grip on his hips.
His belly aches as it expands further, making more space for his future children. He carries the responsibility to bear the world’s heirs, to usher in a new era.
“My beautiful boy, my perfect little Deliverer,” Mydei murmurs close to his ear. He knows it’s not truly Mydei, but that doesn’t matter. It’s still the voice of his beloved.
“I love you more than any other of my creations.”
“Breed me, please. Breed me more.”
He’s babbling nonsense, but he doesn’t care. His cock hangs uselessly between his legs, leaking for hours, unable to climax anymore. Now, he can only come from his ass, from being stretched beyond his limits.
“More, please, more.”
“That’s right, my pretty boy,” Mydei mutters as he grabs Phainon’s aching, full breasts. Phainon lets out a choked sob as he realizes they’re also leaking.
He watches in horror as white liquid seeps from the sensitive nubs.
Is he lactating?
“Wh—what is—?”
Mydei thrusts inside him. His cock feels even bigger than before. Phainon’s eyes roll back in his head; he’s done for, finished, just a cocksleeve for the other’s desires.
“Your body is changing, becoming what it was always meant to be.”
“But—!”
“Shhh.”
Mydei’s hands squeeze his breasts painfully, forcing more milk to well up and drip down. A whine escapes Phainon at the loss, his precious milk wasted, not nourishing his babies.
“Do not fret. You need to be bred first,” Mydei commands, slapping his ass. “No need to cry over spilled milk.”
Despite himself, Phainon chuckles. What absolute nonsense. What stupidity. Why is he—
“Hands up, ass out, back arched.”
A hard palm connects with the softness of his cheeks, the punishing slap reverberating throughout the room. Phainon cries out, his hole quivering, some of the seed spilling out.
“Keep your asshole clenched around my dick. Don’t you dare let any of my seed go to waste.”
“But—”
“Enough misbehaving. I’ve been too sweet to you. You are my Deliverer, after all.”
Phainon sobs, more tears spilling from his eyes as his ass is assaulted again and again. One, two, three slaps, each accompanied by a brutal thrust. He clenches as best he can but it’s useless. He feels as if he’s going to pass out soon.
“Count.”
“What?”
“The number of times you’ve been spanked. You need to finally learn how to behave.”
“I don’t—”
“I know you can count.”
Phainon’s cheeks burn with shame.
“Not that...” He isn’t even sure what he’s saying; his thoughts are a jumbled mess.
A slap.
“Count!”
“One,” Phainon sobs, arms trembling as he struggles to hold himself up.
A slap. A thrust.
“Two,” he chokes out.
A slap. Another thrust.
“Three,” he cries.
“Four.”
“Five.”
“Six.”
It doesn’t stop. His skin burns, his whole body aflame. Exhaustion seeps into his bones. Will this day ever end?
“Count!”
“Seven.”
“Eight.”
“Nine.”
His nipples are sore, still leaking milk.
“Ten.”
His cock swells, aching for release.
“Eleven.”
“Twelve.”
He is losing his mind. Why does it still feel so damn good?
“Thirteen.”
“Fourteen.”
His entire ass is red, each slap landing on the same spots, making the pain feel so much more intense.
“Fifteen. P—please—” he gasps, desperate and on the edge.
“Count.”
“Please, please, let me—”
“Count!”
A slap.
A sob.
“Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen—!”
His thighs tremble as he comes. His hole flutters, loose and spent, as seed trickles out, going to waste. His entire body is tender, aching, and far too sensitive to touch. He slumps on the bed, breathing heavily, unable to move, to think, utterly spent.
“Oh, Deliverer, my sweet child,” Mydei huffs as he gathers him in his arms. He turns him and kisses him breathless, squeezing his tender breasts.
“Is this any way to treat your creator? I was expecting so much more from you.”
A hot mouth closes over one of his nipples, sucking hard, and Phainon cries out.
“Your milk is sweet, fatty and delicious. Our babies will be well fed.”
A hand presses firmly against his belly, making Phainon groan in pain at the overwhelming fullness. His hole leaks, but little seed escapes as he is still plugged by Mydei’s cock.
“You probably think you deserve a break,” Mydei says as he looks at him. Phainon can barely process the words, not sure if they’re meant for him.
“Please—” is all he can manage to say. Just for a moment; only for a little while.
“You don’t deserve it, my beloved. I cannot go soft on you.”
With that, strong hands wrap around his waist, hauling him upright and into a kneeling position. A hand parts his thighs, the cock burying deep inside.
“I’ve got you. All you need to do is take it,” Mydei whispers in his ear.
“No, wait, please—”
“Quiet.”
Phainon whimpers as Mydei starts thrusting again. Hard, fast, punishing. This is what he deserves. This is what he was made for. This is his purpose, his only reason for existing — to be bred and to be filled.
He hangs his head, accepting what the other is giving him, letting himself being fucked senseless.
He is the Deliverer. He is the Worldbearing Heir. He is the hero without a flaw.
“Good.” The voice in his ear whispers. “Good. You’re finally growing into it.”
A hand on his throat squeezes hard while his loose hole is being abused.
“This is what you were made for, my most beloved. Don’t think too much and simply let go.”
—
It may be hours, days, or even centuries, Phainon has lost all sense of time.
He is a mess, his mind broken. He is round and full, breasts weeping milk, thighs wet and sticky with Mydei’s seed. His hole remains open and gaping as the monstrous cock continues to plow into him. It never ends, never stops, and yet all that he wants is more, more, more.
At last, he understands: this is what he is made for. This is what he was meant to do.
Soon, he will grow plump and heavy with babies. Soon, he will give birth to the entire world.
The thought makes him happy as he is relentlessly fucked.
He is the Deliverer, after all.
End