This story is a work of fiction. Any connection to real events or people, past or present, is coincidental. All characters of this story are age 18 or older.
This chapter contains: BBW, chubby, creampie, impregnation, reverse gangbang, drugs, doggy style, cowgirl, standing sex, anonymous sex, oral.
Also contains a little blood and gore.
****
Sam Ageril was in an immense amount of pain. He didn't know where he was, or how he got there, just that his whole body hurt. He peeled his eyes open, but still only saw blackness. He tried to move, but instantly felt bolts of pain across his body. He cried out in agony, wishing he were dead.
Then he felt hands on his body. There was a sliver of light from what appeared to be the flaps of a tent. It was so dark that he could only see the outlines of the people around him. There were two of them. They appeared to be female from their shape, and they were wearing something over their faces, likely masks. The only other thing he noticed was that they were curvier and plumper than most women he had seen.
"Wh-where am...?" Sam attempted to say, but his throat was too dry. He immediately coughed and stabs of pain went across his chest. Two hands came to his face, stroking him. The other woman ran her hands across his chest, feeling along a very painful area. That was when Sam remembered.
Those things from underground attacked them. He had heard that foxman Renard shouting about them, the assassin weevils. During the attack Sam managed to injure some, and then one attacked him from above. The tendril poked through the neck opening of his armor, cutting a huge gash across his chest. It then flung him around hard, trying to get him off. It ran and bucked across the sands so hard that he lost consciousness. There was no telling how long it took that thing to finally throw him off. These people, whoever they were, must have found him.
Sam attempted to speak again, but a finger came to his lips. The woman shushed him gently. The one checking his chest finished, finding all of his stitches still closed. She then brought something to his face. It appeared to be a waterskin with a horn on it. Sam gawked at it, confused. He then saw that there was a hole on the end of the horn. It was a funnel, likely to prevent spilling. Sam was too thirsty to care. He drank the water gratefully, soothing his raw throat. It was only after the fourth gulp that Sam realized it wasn't just water. There was a peculiar taste to it. By the time he pulled his head away it was already too late, and he had been dosed. His consciousness began to blur and fade. He fell back into a deep sleep.
*
Most people thought Sam was some hardcore warrior who never talked because of how focused he was. The truth was that he just didn't have much to say. Sam had been born on the streets to a mother who was batshit crazy. He never knew who his father was, and truth be told his mother probably didn't either. His mother often ran through the streets screaming, believing that dogs were trying to steal the bones from inside her body. She heard voices in her head, and often simply forgot he existed. He survived, however. He went from street urchin, to gang member, to mercenary. He never needed anyone or anything his whole life. Then one day his mercenary company was hired to defend a castle on the frontier. It was a half-ruined fortress guarding some yokel villages. It was an easy assignment, or so his company thought.
There were these people that lived past the mountains on the frontier. They were called the Kazgars. They had slanted eyes, bronze skin, and practically lived on the backs of horses. They had always raided the kingdom, attacking poor peasants and selling the women into slavery. Around the time that Sam arrived at that ruined castle, a powerful lord of the Kazgar invaded. Suddenly there was an army at the gates of that ruined castle, and Sam's company was trapped.
The siege went on for weeks, and the mercenaries died in scores. Sam, however, was a survivor. He knew when to fight and when to flee. While all of his comrades died, he continued to fight and stand his ground. Ultimately, he was the last one alive, holding a door closed while the barbarians attempted to beat it down. He had been beaten, stabbed, and was starving. He knew this was the end and cursed his insane mother for having him. Then they were gone. The armies of the kingdom had arrived, and the Kazgars fled. Sam was the only survivor, and he was in bad shape. The army put him up in one of the peasant hovels, had someone care for him, and continued their pursuit of the Kazgars. Sam's wounds, however, quickly became inflamed and necrotic. He had survived so much, and it was infection that would kill him.
*
Sam woke up again, his mind still swimming from the drugs they gave him. He heard two voices whispering to each other. It was a language he didn't recognize, and it sounded almost like trilling or squeaking. He peeled his eyes open and tried to see. His body felt weak, unable to lift even a finger. One of the women came up to his face and began stroking it again, soothing him. The other began undoing his pants.
Sam wanted to say something, to ask them what they were doing, but he could only lay there. He could feel something stroking his dick, getting it up. This was followed by something wet and soft caressing it, making sure it was hard. He was so out of it that he couldn't even enjoy it. It was just a natural response. The moment he was fully up, the woman at his crotch brought her body over him. She sank herself onto his dick, enveloping him in warmth. Sam grunted and fidgeted. He was feeling small spikes of pleasure. He knew there was a woman bouncing on top of him, but he couldn't even see her in the dark.
Abruptly, the woman on top of him came down a little too hard. Maybe she slipped, or maybe she just wanted to get this done faster. All the same, his whole body jerked. There was a stomach-churning ripping before blinding pain went across Sam's chest. He yelled at the top of his lungs, briefly finding his voice. His wound had cruelly opened again. Both of the women froze, clearly shocked and terrified. After a few moments, light filled the room. Someone had pulled the flaps of the tent open and stormed inside. Another woman had entered. She was bigger than the other two, as well as larger, rounder. She instantly saw that one of them was on top of him. She stomped over to them, seized their arms, and hauled them up and out of the room. Sam was left groaning in pain, still paralyzed by the drugs. All he could hear was inhuman shrieking from outside. He couldn't figure out what was happening, only feel the pain.
When his senses returned, someone was stitching his chest back up. It was painful, and he groaned all the way through it. There was only one woman now. Unlike the others, she was thin and small, almost frail looking. She finished fixing his chest and began to bandage it. Sam tried to lift his head.
"Please..." he croaked. "Where...am I? What...what is...?" The woman reached up touched his face. Unlike the last ones, she was far gentler. It didn't feel like he was being restrained. There was love in her caresses.. She shushed him quietly before beginning to hum. It was a soft and soothing song. He then felt the horn on his lips again. Sam tried to resist. He didn't want to sleep anymore. He didn't want to dream. They were taking him to his past, to his pain. He wasn't strong enough, however. The horn went in his mouth and the tainted water flooded in. He could either drown or swallow it, so he gulped it down. The new woman continued to hum and lovingly caress him until he fell asleep. The next few times he woke up, he smelled something rotting, and he knew it was his wound. He had a wound infection, again.
