Eogan the Bold Hand: Booty for Sale

[Mad Dog]

The barbarian Eogan strode powerfully to the highest overlooking point on the hill that stood above the quaint town that lay hidden in the fertile valley. He took a deep breath that caused his chest to swell out magnificently, the dark circles of his nipples on his tan skin spreading as his magnificent pectorals tensed and leapt with the act. Eogan enjoyed the fresh mountain air. He was a barbarian, of course, so he knew he would prefer it to the stale stench of civilization below. He wanted to take a good whiff of the valley now while he could, before his senses were dulled by the unnecessary trappings of man.

Barbarians were simple folk that pledged allegiance to no king and roamed the land in packs. They were known for their large, burly men and their ferocious tempers. Eogan himself was susceptible to bouts of blind rage if infuriated properly. When under the influence of his base instincts, no man, woman or child was safe. Eogan was special, however, in that he no longer belonged to any tribe. His friends and family had been taken from him at a young age. His tribe had crossed paths with an evil wizard who took great delight in humiliating and tormenting the war-like race with his spells. Eogan did not like to think of that time of his life very much.

But he had survived, as a barbarian is well-equipped to do. He had learned the ways of the sword (because of his past he held magicks and their ilk in distaste) and had made a name for himself as an adventurer. He followed stories and legends of fame and fortune, and made them his own. He had no need for money, however. The barbarian race's dislike of material things carried over to him, and he usually spent his money on food, booze and sex. It meant that he was always traveling from one quest to another, but that's the way he liked it. The less time he spent in crowded cities, the better.

Which is why a snarling look of disgust swept across his stern, rugged features. He had just completed a quest and was laden with the treasures he had purloined from his conquest. It was strapped to his back in a bundle, and to anyone less grandly muscled than he, it would've seemed an unbearable burden. He had carried it with him for a fortnight, however, in search of some burg that looked big enough to foist his riches upon.

He started down the verdant hill and a breeze swept across him. He decided that Mother Nature had decided to be sweet this afternoon and pleasure him with the gentle sensations she was capable of before he would leave her welcoming embrace. He knew also that she could be a cruel, tempestuous mistress, during times when food was scarce and water was nowhere to be found. He supposed that was one perk to living among these soft folk: you hardly ever had to worry about starvation or dying of thirst.

He was now on the outskirts of the town and he was treading upon a cobbled road. He knew it was there to make the passage of horse and carriage easier, but it disagreed with the soles of his feet. It always felt strange to walk upon. As he continued his confident strides, he noticed the townsfolk that dotted the street were looking at him in shock, disgust, and sometimes desire. He was used to that. The soft folk looked upon his kind as dangerous beasts that were difficult to reason with, but there were more than a few that wondered what a fuck with someone like that would feel like. And Eogan had enlightened more than his fair share. Hell, he couldn't be sure that he hadn't STARTED the rumors.

Soon a rotund man decked out in extravagant clothes was nervously making his way towards him. In Eogan's experience, men such as this had some sort of status among their people. His grasp of governance was poor, and telling him that he was the spokesperson of this village would have left him confused. "Ah, see here, sir," the girthy man sputtered out.

Eogan got a sour look on his face. This man was everything he despised about the soft folk. All that disgusting fat and that timid countenance. How did a society such as this let their men become so weak? In a barbarian tribe, he would have been dashed against a rock as a child and left for dead. But he also knew from experience that even he should not inspire the wrath of the soft folk while deep in their midst, outnumbered. Especially if he wanted to do trade. "Greetings, soft man, I am Eogan the Bold Hand," Eogan growled in the local tongue, butchered by his thick accent.

"Well, er, yes, greetings," the official replied back nervously. He didn't even come up to Eogan's chest! Barbarians, as stated before, were a big folk. Eogan towered at 6'6" over the soft folk who usually averaged 5'7". "You can't walk around here like that," he insisted.

"I am not free to roam as I please?" Eogan asked in a dangerous voice.

"Well, you see, here we have standards," the plump man tried to reason with him. "You simply MUST cover your shame!"

"My what?" Eogan asked, genuinely confused.

The spokesman, who had turned positively crimson in the face, simply swallowed the lump in his throat and pointed at Eogan's manhood.

Suddenly Eogan understood why he was getting these stares and comments. He now noticed that none of the men or women here had their sex displayed in public. Now he remembered that the soft folk wore coverings over their genitals in public, and only displayed them in private during mating rituals. He scolded himself for forgetting this rule. It had been some time since his last excursion into civilization and barbarians were not known for their keen minds. They bred brawn, not brains.

And apparently they also bred cock. Eogan's equipment was incredibly impressive and outrageous to the locals. His dick hung halfway down his thighs, limp. It made satisfyingly meaty thwaps against the thick pillars of muscle. A few thick veins traced their way down the fat shaft and Eogan was uncircumcised (barbarians did not practice that) and had thick tan rolls of skin covering a ruby red glans. A glistening clear drop of honey sweet precum had actually formed at the tip of his dong. Eogan had been slightly horny. He would probably need a good fuck later on. His impressive penis lay on top of two round, globular organs that the townsfolk were hesitant to call testicles. They were too large!

Eogan gave the fat man a signal to wait a moment, while he set down his pack and trusty sword and rummaged through it until he grunted in acknowledgment that he'd found what he had been looking for. He pulled out an amount of leather fabric and began to wrap it around his waist and abundant genitals. It became clear that he was trying to fashion a loincloth of sorts. After what seemed to the spokesman an eternity of Eogan trying to contain his massive cock and bouncing balls, he (barely) fit all of himself into a pouch, and tied it off at the waist. His buttocks were left bare, with a strap of leather running between the cheeks and to his waist to help support the weighty mass hanging from his groin. Eogan looked back to the soft man, as if daring him to say that this wasn't acceptable.

"Very well, then," the man replied. "I am Erebus Swallowtail. I represent the people of the town of Greenstone. What is your business here, Eogan the Bold Hand?" He had gone through his speech with beads of sweat rolling down his face. It would be difficult, though not impossible, to contain the brute if he proved unwilling to cooperate.

"I come to sell my booty," Eogan replied gruffly.

Swallowtail's face turned beet red again and the townspeople of Greenstone murmured in shock and (in some cases) delight until it dawned on all of them what Eogan had truly meant.

Swallowtail cleared his throat and said, "Very well. I shall escort you to the local appraiser."

Eogan grunted and nodded in acceptance of this. He knew from experience that the "a-whatever" was the person that would tell him how much his haul was worth and usually offer to buy it from him, or tell him who would. As Swallowtail began walking off, he gathered up his sack and sword and followed. His package bounced between his meaty thighs as he strolled. The part that strung between his buttocks was creating a pleasurable sensation while he walked. Perhaps clothing was not all bad, he though.

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Eogan met with the appraiser, Galvin, while Swallowtail waited outside, keeping an ear to the door partway out of concern for Galvin to make sure that Eogan would not try to harm him, and partly out of curiosity to see how much this almost-naked barbarian beast was worth.

Eogan had untied his sack and laid its contents out on Galvin's table. He just wanted this over with so he could have his pay and get food and hopefully a fuck. Galvin, a middle-aged man with black hair and a goatee, carefully studied the items. There were many fascinating items. "How did you say you came across these?" he asked out of curiosity.

"Ogre," Eogan simply replied.

"An ogre gave you these?!" Galvin dumbly asked again.

Eogan scowled. "I killed it."

Galvin blushed in embarrassment and went on with his duties. The amount and quality of jewels Eogan had brought back with him was astounding. Of course, he had a feeling the big, dumb brute had no concept of value for these sorts of things. He held a diamond up to the light and marveled at the amount of carats. Just this hunk of rock could probably pay the salaries of everyone in Greenstone for a month! Of course, if he played it cool, he could be rich beyond his wildest dreams. He looked from the diamond to Eogan. The man was bored. Eogan fidgeted, blatantly adjusted his crotch and scratched his massive bare pecs, making the sun-bleached blond hair that stood out so well against his tanned skin rustle and his mountainous biceps shift with the motion. Yes, he would be an exceedingly simple mark, Galvin thought to himself.

Suddenly, among the jewels, he encountered an artifact that he had to examine more closely to make sure he knew what it was. As he brought it close so he could study it, it was unmistakable. It was a ring with a very unique design. Two large fists were grabbing what looked to be the forearm of the other hand's arm. His eyes nearly bugged out when he learned what he had discovered. He had to play it cool now, or else risk tipping off to Eogan what this all was REALLY worth.

"Well?!" Eogan roared, his patience having been tested. They could both hear the thump against the door of Swallowtail panicking about the sound he just heard.

Galvin quoted Eogan a price for the whole kit and caboodle that was an infinitesimal fraction of what it was worth and offered to buy it all from him, too. Eogan then screwed his blond-scruffed face into a look of thought. Galvin tried to keep a straight face; he could swear he saw the gears in this goon's head turning. "Accepted," Eogan replied in his bass tones. Galvin happily gave him his gold pieces and sent him on his way.

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Eogan went to the local bar and inn, The Winding Dragon, for his meal and shelter for the night. He'd learned from experience that sleeping in the streets at night was an open invitation for thieves and other scoundrels. He didn't care for the beds, though, and slept on the floors. He had thrown his sack of gold pieces at the proprietor and demanded the largest cut of meat and the largest draft of ale he could get. The greedy innkeeper, of course, obliged with a smile, even though the barbarian was boorish, overly large and smelled like a dead yak. He didn't think Eogan had had any idea just how much gold he'd handed to him.

Eogan sat down at a table, his sword still strapped securely to his back, and received his meal. Swallowtail had gone with him to make sure that Eogan didn't cause any trouble. Usually The Winding Dragon could be pretty rowdy, so he wasn't sure what the addition of a burly, hungry, horny barbarian would do. If anything, it seemed to bring some order to things as those that stayed just quietly observed the large man's behavior.

Eogan raised his giant mug of ale to his lips and drank it almost all of it in a single gulp. With a sigh of refreshment, he cried out, "MORE ALE!" and slammed his mug back down to the table as he grabbed his steak, done rare, with both big mitts and tore into it like a wild animal. He'd never been taught how to eat with proper utensils, of course, and wouldn't care to even if he had been. Within a minute he'd eaten half of it and it became obvious to the innkeeper that one would not suffice. He ordered another extra large steak onto the grill in the kitchen and sent out a waiter with pitchers of beer to help slake the large man's appetites.

As time went on, it did seem like the proprietor's efforts were being rewarded in appeasing the barbarian's desires. Swallowtail couldn't believe a single man could consume so much. He'd gone through four steaks and five pitchers of beer! The amount of food he'd eaten didn't even cause Eogan's cobbled eight pack to bulge out. The booze had merely caused him to become slightly tipsy. Right now he was loudly singing war songs in a foreign tongue. The people in the bar felt compelled to try to sing along anyways, unless they wanted to inspire the ire of an inebriated brute.

But it was becoming evident that not all of Eogan's appetites were being satisfied. The innkeeper noticed that the huge man kept pawing at his crotch, and that the leather was having a worse and worse time containing all of him. Ever attentive to his guests' needs, he sent over one of the girls he kept on the payroll for clients like these. She was a beautiful, curvaceous vixen, with vivid red hair, dark, alluring eyes and cleavage that could kill a man at ten paces. She cooed at Eogan's size and stature, rubbing her dainty hands up his thighs and over his brutally wide lats, gasping in (not entirely) mock awe at his size and strength.

It took a moment for the rowdy Eogan to notice she had taken up by his side, and even longer for his ale-addled brain to deduce she was trying to court him. He pushed her roughly aside and snarled, "Be gone, wench! You anger me!"

A little surprised, she hurried back to her boss and Swallowtail could see them whispering. Erebus also wondered why a healthy, virile man in the prime of his life like Eogan would reject a beauty as abundant as that one's. He finally saw the girl retire as the innkeeper hustled out someone else. Swallowtail's eyes went wide as he finally understood what they were aiming at.

"Having a fun time, Master Barbarian?" a masculine voice asked Eogan during a lull in one of his sing-alongs.

Eogan drunkenly turned to see who would dare address him and found himself looking at quite a sight. His addresser came up to his neck, an impressive height for one of their kind, he thought. He had closely-shorn black hair and a five-o'-clock shadow on his handsome face, which was smiling at Eogan. He wore a sleeveless red tunic that split down the middle to showcase this man's ample muscularity. His pecs were firm and overhung his abdominals by several inches. His arms hung at his side at a slight angle due to both the size of his biceps and triceps and his lats, hidden by the tunic. His lower half was encased in tight wight trousers that ended just below his muscular ass, showcasing this man's assets to their fullest. He had big, muscular thighs and calves to back it all up, and what looked like a substantial manhood hidden behind the cloth covering.

The barbarian licked his lips in desire and nodded. "Yes, a lot of fun." He was even harder to understand now with his speech slurring his thick accent.

Seeing that Eogan was receptive to him, the charmer reached a hand behind the brute and stroked his broad back, along with his long blond hair that was cut short in front so that Eogan could see well during battle. "I thought I might be more your type than that other one. Well, am I?" he suggestively queried.

Eogan's blue eyes bored into the man's green ones like diamond-tipped drills. "You are very large and strong for your kind," he stated, in what had to pass for a friendly voice for him.

The man laughed a clear, loud laugh, baring his white, straight teeth. "I'll take that as a compliment, thanks. My name is Rance." He slipped his hand on the hulk's meaty thigh and started rubbing, progressively closer to his bulge. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Eogan the Bold Hand. I heard you put on quite the show earlier. I'm jealous. Usually I'm the only guy around these parts to make men all hot and bothered."

"You are very desirable," Eogan admitted, his loins tingling.

"Tell me about it," Rance quipped. "But I hear you have something pretty amazing between those big, strong redwoods you call thighs." Now he put his hand directly on Eogan's mound, cupping it as best he could, although he could tell it would be more than a two-hand job. "Care to show me in private? I missed the public viewing."

"You want to mate?" Eogan asked in a husky whisper, a calloused hand reaching behind Rance and firmly grasping a butt cheek in his paw.

"I can see where you get the nickname..." Rance said, reaching up to kiss Eogan on his big lips. Eogan fervently returned the gesture, nearly devouring Rance's mouth. Everyone in the tavern was deathly still and silent. They'd never seen a display of male/male sexual desire so open and blatant, although one or two of them had ridden Rance before. Eogan finally ended the make-out session, a cocky grin on his face. He was going to get his much-deserved fuck. And about time, too. His balls were about ready to explode.

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Galvin let the jewels he'd just tricked from the dumb oaf barbarian trickle through his fingers to clatter on his table as he though about all the wonderful things he would buy with his newfound wealth. First off, he could probably replace that rich goof Swallowtail as Greenstone's leader. Only reason that guy was the leader was because he came from money, anyways.

As he luxuriated in his power fantasies, he looked at that ring again. He couldn't believe it. The famous Ring of Dengard, fabled to have been possessed by an ancient giant, one of the huge creatures that roamed the world at the dawn of time, building mountains and forging valleys with their god-like strength and forming the very rivers of the land from their great virility. Some said that barbarians were the product of generations of giants mating with mortal women, but of course all that was just hogwash, Galvin thought. It was just a ratty old ring. How could it ever fit on a giant, anyways? It looked small enough for him to wear, after all!

Galvin put the Ring of Dengard on as a lark. There, it DID fit on his ring finger! Didn't look half bad, either. Besides, who was he to belittle the ring's mystery? After all, if some dope wanted to pay a king's ransom for it, let him! He went to take the ring off when he found it simply wouldn't budge. That's odd, he thought. All of a sudden, he felt his body tense up and he felt consumed by a great heat, all over. He noticed that his body didn't fit quite as comfortably into its tunic as it had just a moment ago. What was going on?

He doubled over as his pecs inflated, filling his tunic to capacity, his thighs pressing skin-tight against his trousers, his arms struggling against the constraining fabric, his fast-growing genitals feeling too confined. His features began transforming as he let out a hopeless scream that was strangled by the birth cry of the creature he was becoming. The Curse of the Ring of Dengard would soon be complete.

To be continued?

[arpeejay]

Well, doh! Of course it is to be continued! Right now, chop chop!

xoxo

Richard

[Bull]

This is great fun.

[muscl4life]

BRAVO!

I simply love fantasy themed muscle growth stories and you had once again dazzled us with your unearthed writing skills. I know a thing or two (what can i do if I'm a nerd ) about "role playing games" romances and I gotta tell you that this is much better written than most of the crappy stories I've bought over the years.

It takes a great background to insert "technicalities" into the storyline without making it too obvious or too boring. The scene of the appraiser was indeed wonderful - every guy who had played knows that taking an uneducated barbarian to sell the booty is a chance for disaster!

The tavern scene was indeed glorious, i loved the way he got rid of the pretty girl, this is not an orthodoxal fantasy story so the massively muscular barbarian hero digs strong muscular men for his pleasure, and that actually worked inside the enviroment you created. To me this is simply priceless

Loved the cliffhanger as well, a muscle growth curse suddenly "reminds" us that growth is supposed to happen as the story unfolds, but we've been so "busy" delighting our senses with the great foundations of your tale, that a second chapter is not only necessary, it is DESPERATELY NEEDED!

Congratulations, Mad Dog, and I hope i could express all my excitement towards this very promising story.

Cheers

[slayerfx116]

Wow, that was awsome! Very well planned out and it was layed out brilliantly! What a wonderful muscle growth tale and the muscle growth is only beginning! You would be a fool not to continue this my friend!

[Meddler Incs]

Yes! More! Please, continue!!

[Mad Dog]

Thanks, you guys. More is on the way. :3