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The Viking Way

Copyright 2016 by Simplemind

Just like all other men, Gunnarr Frost too stood on deck in full combat gear, waiting. No one spoke a word. The only things audible were the gentle purling of water below, and the constant fluttering of the sail in the wind above them.

As son of the Jarl, who was the great leader of the whole polar bear tribe and who has put his entire fleet to sea for this raid, Gunnarr deserved the honor to go into battle at the very front of the Viking horde. Loyal warriors stood at his side, skilled, armed and ready. Everyone was eager to set foot on land after the crossing. Eager to fight. Eager to loot. Eager to make this land, its people and treasures theirs and be free Vikings.

It was still dawning, but the late summer air here in the south was already warm and made the blood of the polar bears boil, which otherwise were accustomed to the cold north. Yet the ships were drifting up the river, moving inland, but the matutinal billows of smoke from a settlement were already within sight. If previous expeditions and their current course were accurate, this had to be the land of the vulpine folk. Easy targets!

After the fleet took the last river bend and the village finally came into sight, everything happened in a flash. With a slick maneuver Gunnarr's father put the ships ashore. Immediately, and with earsplitting roaring and screaming, the polar bears charged up the natural elevation towards the village. Weak and far under the clamor, Gunnarr could hear the villagers' panicked cries as they got aware of the nearing attack.

The village was a small community of farmers and stockbreeders, who hardly had anything to set against the approaching Viking horde. Although there was a small palisade trench, supposed to protect the settlers, it was no obstacle for the tall bears, all of whom stood about two and a half meters high.

Like the waves on which they came, they swashed over the measly fortification and simply overran the few settlers, armed with pitchforks, flails and clubs, who came to defend their home. Out of the corner of his eye, Gunnar saw how one of his comrades jumped over the fence with dash and landed, with his bulky body, directly on one of the foxes, who yielded like a twig in a storm and got crushed under his massive paws.

Quickly the trained Viking warriors, with their superior armors, shields and axes, subdued any resistance with ease. The humble wooden tools of the villagefolk splintered as they met the cold Nordic steel, forged into swords. Their enormous battle axes split skulls like pumpkins. And the battle-scarred shields wouldn't even let the villagers touch their foe. The unprepared and completely surprised foxes didn't stood a chance. Much less so, since they couldn't nearly compete in height, let alone mass, with their attackers.

Now they swarmed into the village to loot, to kill and to destroy. From the modest log houses, which the Vikings invaded in flocks, came the screams and cries for help of the unfortunate victims, who fell prey to the wild, manly urges of the polar bears, which were so far away from their women.

When the rest of the tribe moved up into the settlement, the combative spirit of the residents was already broken. The men had no trouble to capture the remaining foxes. At least thus who were still young or strong enough to toil as slaves back home. Or thus who looked good enough to keep the seamen company on the long return voyage. All others were disposable. Weak beings that didn't even have enough man inside of them to give proper battle to a Viking. There was no honor in fighting these people. True honor lay in the fight with a real warrior! These foxes deserved to die.

During the commotion, Gunnarr saw one of the foxes trying to flee from the village and took his chance. Promptly he took up pursuit and apprehended the runaway lad at the edge of the settlement. The palisade that was meant to protect him, was now his undoing.

Threatening Gunnarr towered over the cowering fox, who barely reached up to his chest while standing. The young boy couldn't have been any older than Gunnarr, as far as the bear could tell. Probably in his late twenties. The red fox was slim and petite, no real enemy to the massive, muscle-bound polar bear, who easily weighed seven or eight times as much as the fox, with his body weight of just above half a ton!

A sinister chuckle escaped the bear as he let his heavy battle axe drop into the grass. It was not needed here. Gunnarr wanted to enjoy this moment!

In a flash the proud warrior charged forward and taught the boy the respect a Viking deserved with his iron fists, until he lay on the ground, yowling in pain.

"Please, please! I'll give you everything I have! EVERYTHING!!! Just please, don't kill me!" the fox pleaded for mercy.

But Gunnarr was not here to listen to his begging!

After he had made sure, the fox had internalized who the boss was, the bear opened his belt and let his iron plate-armored leather pants sink to the ground. He roughly grabbed the whimpering fox by the scruff of his neck and pressed his face against his crotch. "How about you give me, what I WANT?!" Gunnarr ordered. "Go, lick my balls!"

When the frightened fox didn't obey immediately, the polar bear helped him with more of his bone-breaking blows. Then, in mortal fear, the fox did as he was told and pressed his tongue against the white-furred testicles of the giant man.

"Ahh!" moaned Gunnar as his crown jewels finally were paid some attention again after the long voyage.

In the hope that he would escape with his life, if he was compliant to the norseman, the poor fox sucked on the polar bear's huge balls. Even worse than the demeaning task was the salty taste of sweat and man after the long time afloat and the exhausting attack in the hot morning air.

As the Viking slowly felt his sack getting wetter the more this pathetic excuse of a man lapped at it, he also felt his erection grow. Fast his member swelled with the hot blood of the battle and emerged from his sheath, laying itself over the fox's head, who was held in Gunnarr's iron grip by the ear. It obviously hurt him, but the bear didn't care.

What he did care about, though, was his growing lust.

"Enough of this!" he growled and yanked the ear upwards, and with it the boy's muzzle away from his balls. "Let's get to the real thing," he added and tried to squeeze his fat dick between the fox's lips. Though, he met resistance.

"Please, please!" the red fox sobbed with tears in his eyes and trembling in every limb. "Please don't do this! I'm begging you! Please stop!"

That his victim cried like a little girl didn't stop Gunnarr, though. He squeezed and wrenched the ear in his paw until the fox yelped in pain, then he pushed his member in, finally silencing the squirt. His cock was about as long as the poor guy's forearm and seemed even bigger than usual to Gunnarr in contrast to the tiny muzzle he tried to fit it in.

Apparently, the fox must have thought likewise about Gunnarr's equipment. He was gagging, choking and coughing terribly as the polar bear pushed himself ever deeper into his throat. He also struggled a lot, but against Gunnarr's might, he was helpless. Nevertheless, it buggered the bear.

With a powerful jolt on the ear, which got him a muffled cry, Gunnarr forced his dick as far down the fox's maw as he could. Then he just let it go.

With horror the fox felt what the bear did to him as a hot torrent of polar bear piss disgorged down his throat. He gagged heavily as the stream gushed down into his stomach. He couldn't do anything but swallow awkwardly around the man's penis, the bears grip was just too strong. But even the unyielding power of a Viking couldn't hold someone desperately fighting for his life forever, and so the little boy eventually managed to twist his head awkwardly enough for the bear's cock to slip out of his mouth.

Grumbling angrily, Gunnarr grabbed his dick and aimed it at the unruly fox. With a relieved sigh, he let out everything he had to hold back earlier during the battle.

Humbled the fox let the bear piss into his face. He knew he had no chance. A flight was futile. And if the bear just wanted, he could rip him to shreds with his bare paws! His only hope was that the Viking had enough of him now.

But this was not the case!

When Gunnarr's bladder was emptied, and the fox's face soaked with hot, potent bear urine, he shoved the poor guy down onto the ground. "Now I'm gonna show you, how it's done the Viking way!"

In a second the massive bear was behind the fox, kneeled down and leaned forward, resting his huge, armored bear gut on his back. The battered fox could feel the man's dreaded member flop between his buttocks.

With a few probing thrusts Gunnarr pushed his cock under the fox's tail. He vaguely heard him whisper something, presumably more pleadings. Maybe a prayer, who knows? Gunnarr didn't. And he certainly didn't want to know either!

The thick head of the bear's cock entered the fox with two moans, one of satisfaction and one of pain and fear. The fox's saliva might have brought him a bit ease, but not very much. Anyways, this was not about this fucker's comfort, but about Gunnarr's pleasure!

Applying the same force on his back end as he had on his muzzle, Gunnarr squeezed his cock between the fox's ass cheeks, making him scream in agony. The screaming continued as he fucked him with brutal force, but the bear soon found a way to silence him by pushing his face into the piss-soaked grass.

With pure bliss Gunnarr bred the boy underneath him and stretched his insides beyond what must have felt like an impalement to the smaller creature. Not caring about this stupid farmer's well-being in the least, the bear rammed his cock all the way in, dragging the fox through the dirt while he did so. Then out and back in again. Over and over again. Ever harder, and ever faster.

Gunnarr was huffing and snorting happily as he destroyed the fox from inside. Until he was about to finish, were his panting turned into a deep, ursine Viking roar so loud that it made the fox under him shudder in dread.

Then he came and filled the lad with his seed.

Catching his breath, Gunnarr straightened himself up and let his cock slowly slip out of his victim. As he stood, the fox remained motionless on the ground. Thick globs of seed leaked from his lose anus. When the bear had his pants back on, he approached the fox again, turning him on his back with a harsh kick to the flank.

Whimpering and crying he lay before him. All hope relinquished, he had resigned himself to his fate, completely at his mercy. Pathetic, as Gunnarr adjudged!

With a cold stare he lifted one of his massive bear paws from the grass and let it settle down on the fox's legs. His broad sole covered both libs a once. Then, with a swift motion, he shifted his entire weight on the boy's legs. A soft crack was audible as Gunnarr's bare paw sank into the fox's flesh and broke his shin and calf bone like twigs. Not a second later, the fox screamed at the top of his voice.

A sadistic smile flashed over the polar bear's face as he felt the fox struggle under his paw. Still squeezing the poor guy's lower legs into pulp, he lifted his other paw and brought it down, with the same power a hammer might hit an anvil, right onto his knees.

Gunnarr felt, what once used to be bones, poke softly into his strong sole. From the pure power of this stomp, the fox's legs got twisted upwards since Gunnarr's weight had pushed his foot, and what laid underneath, into the soft earth. But those legs were only up for a moment. Soon Gunnarr landed his next step, scrunching the fox's thighs. By now the bear had a warm, wet feeling under his paws. A look confirmed that the boy's legs were now barely more than a pile of trampled meat, turning the green grass into a bloody red.

Done with the lower part of his prey, Gunnarr marched on, planting his massive paw on the fox's groin. The crippled form stammered something under constant whining and sobbing. More pathetic groveling, most likely.

CRUNCH!

With a loud crack the fox's hip got literally pulverized under Gunnarr's paw. A horrible gurgling came from the boy's throat. He was barely conscious anymore.

With relish Gunnarr felt the warm blood squelch between his thick toes as he passionately wriggled them to probe with his claws in the remaining sludge. If the fox could still feel this?

Probably not! He was only wheezing anymore. No more begging. No more crying.

Slowly Gunnarr took aim for his next devastating step and slowly lowered his death-bringing sole onto the lad's chest. He could still feel him breath weakly under the pressure he applied by only resting his foot there. Gradually he leant further and further forward and added more and more pressure onto he ribcage he was standing on. Agonizing whining and choking could be herd as the chest slowly got bent inwards. Ever deeper and deeper he let his foot sink, bowing every rib on the way down.

With a muddy sound, like walking through snow and mud at the same time, the bones finally gave way and Gunnarr's paw crushed the fox's lungs, heart, liver and anything else in there in one single step. Every single rib must have been broken.

A puddle of blood started to form around the almost-corpse. When Gunnarr saw down, the body still twitched uncontrollably, trying to drag in fresh air with its now useless lung. Just mere moments and the boy would finally suffocate.

But Gunnarr didn't want to wait that long!

Once more he lifted his enormous foot. Then, with a small hop, he jumped onto the mutilated fox's head. A wet, dull breaking and a pool of crimson goo was all that remained as the bear squeezed the skull flat like an overripe tomato and completely destroyed the fox's face.

For a moment Gunnarr took in his work with satisfaction. That, though, was about all he conceded to this disgraceful nothing. Whipping his soles on the grass, he picked up his axe to move back to the battle, which was more of an execution at this point.

Still! He might be lucky and find himself another victim to entertain him for a bit, before the sea would call for him again.

THE END