Working for the New King
I work in the new castle that they've been building on the edge of town. I'd thought, when I saw the posting, that it might be some cool sort of Ye Olde Renaissance Faire or something. But when I showed up to see what it was all about, it turned out it seriously was just some rich guy who wanted to live in a castle.
I asked for an application anyway--a job's a job.
The majordomo was a white tiger who brought out far too much paperwork for any mortal to read; most of it was the 'employment contract', but even the list of open positions was three pages long. The more I read through the titles, the more I was convinced that whoever the fatcat was that owned this place was either more well-off than he knew what to do with, or a little off his rocker. Probably both.
"...valet, vintner, vizier?" I looked up when I reached the end of the list.
"Just put a check by anything you'd be comfortable doing, and don't worry about it. We're hiring anyone who can hold up a wall--even if you have no skills, we can put you on building infrastructure."
"Thank you," I said, putting down my last signature and returning the stack of paper.
"We'll be in touch," he said.
Two days later I was led into what I could only describe as a throne room after waiting in line for my interview with the master of the house. Blue tapestries fringed with gold hung on light-gray stone walls; the richness was somewhat offset by the presence of half a dozen waist-high stone blocks that littered the room.
The occupant of the throne was much younger than I would have expected from the opulence of the castle's furnishings, a burly turtle in a blue shell whose nervous-looking attendant proclaimed him as 'King Artie Sledge'.
Newbie, I thought. Not 'His Majesty Arthur, of the House of Sledge'? Or, 'Sledge-bearer', I thought, noticing the large hammer he was leaning on.
The turtle beckoned the attendant to approach, murmuring something into my fellow polar bear's ear before sending him back.
The attendant proclaimed again: "Approach His Majesty Arthur Sledge-Bearer!"
His Majesty gave me a wicked grin, and I was nudged to stand before him in the cold gaze of his blue eyes. "You want to serve me," he said.
"Er," I said, "I guess? I'm here about a job..."
"Your job will be serving me."
It took a grand total of thirty minutes on my first day as the turtle's body servant before I discovered the dangers of serving Artie Sledge.
He was still holding court in the newly-cleared-out throne room, meeting with all the people who'd applied to work in the castle.
The first applicant of the day was an older rhinoceros who was visibly disgusted at the thought of taking the turtle king seriously. "I came here to work," he said. "Not to bow to no king."
Artie took his hammer in hand, got up slowly and approached the rhino. "Then you're in luck, my friend. Building infrastructure doesn't have to bow."
"I can do that," he said. "I've been building houses for thir--"
He was interrupted by a sudden tap of the king's sledgehammer on his horn. At first I thought he had gone silent out of pure indignation, but after a couple of moments I observed he wasn't moving at all. The rhino's gray hide seemed duller, more like...stone?
The king raised his hammer with both hands and brought it down hard on the rhino's head with a solid smash that forced out a gasp from more than one of the new recruits in the room. There was a spray of stone dust and the rhino's head and legs were no more--smashed into his torso. Artie moved quickly for his size around the rhino, giving front, sides, and back powerful strikes till all that remained was a rugged, vaguely cubic block of stone.
A chill came over my whole body as I remembered how many like it had been in the room yesterday.
The chill was joined by nausea as I thought of how much stone there was in the walls of the castle. How many people made up the building's 'infrastructure'? Was there any natural stone in the place at all?
I leaned against the throne as I processed the enormity of what was happening here, and the king returned to his seat.
Someone ought to stop him, I thought. I mean, not _me, I'm about as strong as marshmallow fluff. But someone._
King Artie was watching me. "You'll see worse things," he said. "But you're smart--that's why I'm keeping you. Stay smart. And clean my hammer, would you?"
I held the sledgehammer like a live grenade and wiped the stone dust from it, trembling.
Fear pounded in my chest as I followed the king down those terrible stone halls. Over the course of the day I'd seen at least fifteen people take the spell of Artie's hammer, and it never got easier to watch.
And now that throne room had emptied, it was my duty to attend to the king in his chamber.
Artie's room was still rather spartan; more elaborate furnishings were on the way, he said, but for now the major feature was the king's bed. A king-size mattress on a bare frame, the kind you might easily find at a big-box shop.
"I'm trained as a soldier, so I'm used to simpler conditions," he said. "Though up front a good show is necessary for the commoners."
As a turtle, the king didn't require much in the way of clothing, but I helped him out of the spike-studded bands he wore on wrists and ankles, depositing them beside the helmet that sat on his bedside table.
"I don't know how he does it," he said, rubbing his wrists once they were free. "May as well be in manacles."
The remark was clearly not meant for me to respond to, so I stood and waited.
Artie walked to the other side of the bed where, I noticed with some shock, was a statue of an otter, its mouth open.
The squeamishness rose up in me again even before I saw the king slip his thick, flaccid cock from his slit and slip it into the former otter's maw.
The unmistakeable sound of a stone vessel being filled with liquid resonated off the walls as Artie filled the statue with his piss.
We like to think of love and hate as being at opposite ends of a spectrum, but in truth it's very like a color wheel, and they shade into each other quite frequently, if you look for it. Many opposites are like this.
As I watched him so casually abuse what was once a living being, my revulsion at the cruelty of Artie Sledge passed all the way through fear and disgust into a twisted arousal.
Heaven help me, I wanted him.
"I see I chose well," he said, glancing back at me. He didn't need to read my mind to see the tent in my shorts. "Don't worry, your turn comes next."
I felt a chill in the pit of my stomach.
The turtle king sighed and tapped his dick on the statue's nose to shake off the last drops of piss. "Just take your clothes off, kid."
I did so, feeling uncertain and vulnerable. Artie Sledge wasn't here to cuddle tubby white fluffballs like me. Half a dozen awful scenarios sprang to mind, but I tried to suppress them--no good in giving him ideas.
"Relax, kid, you weren't hired as a disposable."
But some were...
"Am gonna break you a little though. Maybe a lot." He growled and stretched out crosswise on the bed, pulling me in alongside him with those strong hammer-swinging arms. I faced the underside of his shell and the fat shaft that stuck out from the slit at his tailbase.
"Get to work."
I didn't realize how big he really was until seeing him up close just then. I want to say he was at least a foot, but it's hard to say that without people thinking you're exaggerating, or being metaphorical at least--but it really did compete with my forearm in both length and girth.
As I took hold of His Majesty and attempted to work the end of its shaft into my muzzle, I half expected a hand on the back of my head forcing me down, but instead he licked a couple of his fingers and began probing under my tail.
I shivered as he so casually started working my hole open with first two, then three thick digits with a vigor that forced precum from my own cock in bursts.
"Don't get distracted, kid. Unless you want me going in dry."
Realizing just why he was now up to four fingers in my hole and trying to stretch me further, I went to work on that cock like my life depended on it.
And then he pulled his hand from my rump with a low rumble of appreciation, wriggling his hips to release his shaft from my maw. "All right kid, get on it."
Of course he wasn't going to mount me. The king shouldn't have to lift a finger.
I straddled his plastron, tentatively settling my rump against the turtle's cock, and this time he actually did grab me, pulling me down by the hips till at least half his length was buried in me and I was too tight for more.
"Mm," he said. "Figured you wouldn't be able to take it. Gonna love wrecking this hole."
I yelped in alarm and braced myself against what I imagined was going to be a powerful thrust, but it didn't come.
The turtle reached instead for the bedside table, pulling out a red-and-white-capped mushroom. "Oh, this is going to hurt much worse than that."
He crushed the mushroom in his hand, and it disappeared in a little cloud of golden dust.
Pain shot through my ass as the turtle king doubled in size under me.
I know I must have been screaming, but the intense throb of my body being opened up wider than it ever was intended to be seemed to overwhelm all other senses.
And yet Artie's voice came through loud and clear. "Oh, this is delicious."
I was sure I was being ripped apart. And then he started thrusting in, each movement of his cock behind my ribs making me feel a little more faint. I'm probably losing a lot of blood, I thought in a haze.
The king grunted pleasurably each time I floated out of consciousness. He knew what was coming next, even though it was the last thing on my mind.
With an uninhibited roar he slammed my hips down to hilt himself in my hole.
The throb of his cock shook my whole body as his seed pumped into me.
At least it's over now, I thought.
"Sorry, kid," Artie said, his voice soft as I collapsed against him. "This is only your first day."