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“Viking Mountain”

Bobjorn was the king of his village; the first born of the fourteenth generation, he was the rightful ruler and nobody stood as his rival. All other men were half his size and even smaller, his shoulders as wide as a great oak’s trunk, his arms as massive as boulders. A shock of blond hair covering his head and dangling down as far as his buttocks, tied thrice down its length and piercing, bright blue eyes that never failed to send the young maidens into a frenzy of blushes and faintings. He was a stern ruler, always strict toward his subjects, but always kept in check of their needs, putting theirs before his own.

It was a particularly bitter winter, heavy snow storms continually battering the small valley village, devastating it on a daily basis, forcing them to clear or rebuild where needed. Food was growing scarce, game was becoming harder and harder to find. And everyone, including Bobjorn were becoming much more desperate for any sign of relief.

The blast of cold air had roused Bo from his sleep, a snort slipped up into his nostrils as the cold whipped around his naked body, forcing him to pull the heavy bearskin blanket down over himself. It was early morning, light had not even entered the sky yet and he turned to see a young lad huddling in a distant corner of his room. The pair locked eyes, and for several seconds neither one blinked.

“What are you doing in my hut, boy?” Bo grunted in a guttural tone of voice, the whisper rising like a growl from under his blanket.

The child shivered as he looked toward the door he had entered through. The fasteners had come loose, dragging in more cold air. He got up and quickly tied the flap off, keeping it from moving as much. “The storm, milord.” He said. “It caused the roof of my room to collapse in, it buried me in a knee-high drift. I am unable to repair it on my own, sire.”

Bobjorn was not amused by the boy’s incessant high pitched voice and sat up, letting the bear skin fall off his massive chest. “Boy. You think that gives you an excuse to wake me?”

The boy frowned and shook his head. “No, milord.” He replied meekly.

Bobjorn huffed a puff of air from his lungs before putting his hands to his face, exhaling with a sputter as he rubbed it vigorously. He stood and made his way back to the wardrobe at the back of his hut. He wasn’t bashful in the slightest, the boy had quickly averted his eyes, but Bobjorn was proud of his body and took his time to withdraw an outfit from his closet before tossing the blanket onto the boy. “Here. Rest. I will see to it your room is repaired by the morn.”

“A-are you...th-thank you!”

“Your parents are dead, yes?”

The boy frowned and nodded. “Yes sir. They were both felled by Gruesome during the last summer season.”

Gruesome; a massive grizzly bear that had a habit of hunting any who wandered out of the village. Bobjorn had been locked in combat with him many times; scars all over his body badges to their conflict. “You are being cared for by your brother, yes? Erik?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Bobjorn finished strapping on his boots and tucked his exposed skin under the thick pelt of his outfit before walking toward the door. “I will see he helps with the repairs then, you are too young, you stay here and--” He turned his head to the boy, who had already curled up under the blanket, fast asleep. “...rest.” He spoke quietly before turning and stepping from his tent.

Bobjorn did not have children of his own, he had not found a wife either. He knew that it would be needed in order to produce rightful heirs to his throne, but he’d never had the time to settle down. It wasn’t time to think about anything like that; he stormed toward one of the huts nearly completely buried in the snow with a small cropping for the door that had been recently swept away. He stormed through, brushing the flap aside. “Erik!” He belted at the top of his lungs as the young man jolted awake and spilled from his bunk like the innards of some disemboweled animal, nearly naked as a jaybird himself, Erik shrieked in utter shock and pulled the blanket, wrapping it around himself before realizing who had disturbed his sleep.

“King...Bobjorn?” He stammered. “What is it? What is this disturbance?” He asked.

“This disturbance is your responsibility, your brother’s intrusion of my hut has alerted me to the need to repair his hut. As it seems you turned him away, you will help in its reconstruction immediately!”

“He--he never came to me.”

Bo growled in frustration and ripped the blanket off the young man, exposing him to the bitter cold now seeping into the hut. “You would lie to your king? Think it be raccoons then? Digging at your hut’s door to get inside? Perhaps swine? Or bears?” He watched the young man shrug softly, and the chief gripped the boy’s hair into his gnarled knuckles, twisting it until he shrieked in pain. “I do not abide liars. Speak, boy.”

“A-alright! Alright!” The young man snarled angrily in his anguish. “I will help my brother get his hut back together.”

“He’s is sleeping in my hut.” Bobjorn said. “You will do the repairs yourself and tell us when you’ve...”

The sound of a distant horn caught the chief’s attention, and quickly after followed the thundering sound of running feet, thundering hooves and tracking dogs; the hunting party had returned. As the lead huntress; Irga came storming into the village wielding the horn, he stopped her from sounding the alarm again, making her realize he was already awake. “Irga! What is the meaning of this?” He growled. “Where is the rest of your party? You number half from when you left...”

“S-sire.” She exclaimed, dropping to her knees. Her wirey, yet fit form expressing itself even through her heavy garments. “They were lost in the storm!”

“WHAT?!”

The bellowing rage made Irga flinch. “Th-there was no game in our usual hunting ground, likely the snow had driven them further up into the mountain. We traveled deeper and deeper into the woods, up the hills toward the snowy peaks when we were beset by a horrifying creature in the darkness. The blinding fog and snow separated us, and all we heard was their screams fading into the darkness.”

Letting out an audible snort of irritation, Bobjorn observed the other hunters; exhausted, worried, panicked even and he lifted the horn to his lips, letting it sound off an audible, shrill cry that brought the pack to attention. “Very well then, I shall lead the hunting party for now.” He said. “In one hour, I expect every able-bodied man with hunting experience to accompany me into these woods of horror, as you so claim so that we may find our comrades...or bury them, be that the case.”

There was a calm hush over the village, and for the next hour, Bobjorn had returned to his hut to prepare this hunt. He packed his bow, a quiver of arrows. Strapped on a pair of gruesome-looking axes that dangled from his belt, and an extra layer of heavy and warm fur. Meeting with the rest of his newfound party, that numbered only a dozen. Bo mounted the tamed bear; as was customary for the chief to possess, and the herd headed out just a couple hours before dawn. Torches and lanterns being their only source of light on this storm-filled evening. The village behind them soon grew dim as the mist of the wintery night began to swirl in around them, growing more and more distant until eventually, the storms claimed it too, and it vanished into the black night.

Irga remained with the group, despite her exhaustion, she was the only one of the original group who agreed to return, and she acted as a guide as the party traveled up the steeper and steeper path led them still-further into the dark forest.

The snow was relentless, blinding them to no more than two feet in front of the furthest torch light. Bobjorn was second in place after Irga, who gave mostly silent instruction to the dangers ahead. Helping to move them around half-frozen rivers, and caves that may still be inhabited. Eventually, they arrived at a stopping point, and Irga turned to face Bobjorn.

“This was where we battled the great beast of the night.” She said calmly. “Where our kin were lost...”

Bobjorn dismounted his bear and observed the ground under their feet; as it has been a couple of hours, the area did not look disturbed. With his bare hands, Bobjorn began to dig at the snow, searching for any signs of battle or blood, or even a body to affirm Irga’s claims, but he found nothing. “Irga, where did our party--” Bobjorn froze as he heard the sounds of cracking. All present froze and began to look around; they raised their torches, their lanterns and in the cases with one or two hands free, they raised their weapons as well. All present were convinced that somehow the great beast had returned, but the cracking noise sounded muffled; it was as though it was coming from under the snow...beneath their very feet. As Bobjorn slowly looked toward his feet, a sense of dread came over him. He could feel the vibrations of something under him beginning to give. He was standing on a fallen tree trunk, buried far underneath the snow he had stopped on. He glanced up with barely a notion formed to move out of the way when it happened;

Bobjorn’s footing slid, following a great, ear-splitting crack and his legs were yanked violently out from under him, sending him plummeting into the drift. He let out a howl of surprise and pain as he hit the ground and was suddenly swept away in a great slide of snow that overtook him immediately. The cold, wet fluff poured over his hair, was tamped down into his furs and those furs immediately sheared away from him in this torrent of white, now spilling over him. He’d hit the ground hard, and he yelled in agony as the wood he had been standing on took its revenge and sliced through his forearm, adding the hot steam of blood to the mess he was swirling about in. The fall was very violent, and seemed to go on forever; Bobjorn’s consciousness seemed to fade and return with every blinking of his eye and as he rolled, screaming into the darkness he realized that he too would be lost like those missing members of his hunting party.

Violent slam, after violent slam, followed by a long screaming slide along the freezing, steeping snow was only made worse by Bobjorn suddenly being submerged into the frigid water of a frozen river. His sheer size causing him to immediately crash through the ice as he was immediately swept up into the current. A faint shimmer of moonlight breaking through the clouds finally gave him his bearings and Bo slammed his feet into the bottom of the river and projectiled himself up through the glassy surface and into the cold night air once again, he hit the ground and rolled for several feet before finally coming to a painful rest on the snow-covered bank of the river. Coughing and sputtering, he could not feel a single thing on his body. The cold had numbed him to the point where he couldn’t even tell if he was awake or asleep.

*THUMP, THUMP* Bobjorn could hear something different from his slow, steady heartbeat now approaching him, he could feel the ground trembling under four massive claws as a shape made itself known to the corner of his eye. *THUMP, THUMP* The sound grew closer, and Bo made an attempt to move, to sit up, to look around, to do anything other than watch as the great bear made its way menacingly toward him. He inhaled and exhaled defiantly staring into the pearly white teeth of the beast that would devour him any second now. Gruesome loomed over him, its eyes beet red, almost glowing in the darkness as it snarled and looked upon its helpless prey. Bo closed his eyes and readied to have it all end; but then Gruesome let out an ungodly scream, and Bobjorn opened his eyes only to receive a shower of the beast’s steaming guts and blood now pouring over his body as another; even more massive form ripped the bear apart from behind. Grateful that his life was now spared, and that he now had a bit of feeling in his body from where the blood was now warming it, Bobjorn suddenly felt his consciousness drop from him, and all he saw now was darkness.

Bobjorn’s eyes began to water as he woke from his slumber and the first thing he’d noticed was that he wasn’t being snowed on. He winced and sat up, only to find that his body was freezing cold. Despite a small fire going nearby, he couldn’t ignore the fact that his clothes were soaked completely through. He moved his arms to remove the pelt layered over his neck and let out a growl of pain and he noticed that his arm was tightly bandaged from where the wood had gouged his flesh during his fall earlier. He was more careful this time; slowly pulling his shirt off and feeling his muscles vibrate to the warmth if the fire. He let out a deep sigh of relief as he pulled the bands off his hair and let it fall forward, dangling over his massive shoulders as he crept ever closer to the fire. His body was shivering, but it was alive. It was then he remembered the bear looming over him, then the bear’s flesh becoming like rainfall all over his prone, half-conscious body. He wiped his face and checked his chest, but saw no trace of it. Perhaps what he saw was a dream; perhaps he was feverish from the cold and imagined the great beast being ripped in twain. But who’s lodge had he found himself in? What had dragged him out of this night and likely saved his life.

Bobjorn stripped himself down completely, he knew better than to remain in wet clothes, and he barely had anything to be ashamed of. He flipped the rugged pelt and shook out some of the moisture before seating his bare buttocks upon it and sitting directly in front of the flame. This brought another question; who made this fire? Surely if it had been his hunting party others would be here. But instead, he was seated alone, naked and in the dark, with the tiniest hint of light to see by. And the wood feeding it was already dwindling; he could feel the chill of the storm outside already creeping in. “Where could they be?” He asked himself.

Suddenly, a bellowing noise could be heard from outside, followed by the excruciatingly loud noise of a massive foot kicking in the lodge’s front door. A swirl of snow and cold wind came shooting in with enough force to nearly knock Bo to the ground, but thankfully the fire did not extinguish from all that. Bobjorn hardly noticed though, as he was busy staring at the hulking figure that had crumpled into the room, carrying some wood and the carcass of the great bear slung over his shoulders. Though he could barely be made out from the shadows, he could see a thick head of flowing hair, and the hint of gold color in his eyes. The beastly man then rose up, effortlessly flipping the bear off his shoulders and letting it fall like a dead weight to the floor halfway between them.

“Ah he lives. Good man.” The depth of his voice was almost enough to make the ground shake as he rose and stretched his massive arms out, filling the room with an assortment of bone cracking coming from him. I had to haul your ass from near the top of the mountain down here; a journey of six kilometers does not make for an easy night.”

“What is this place? Where have you brought me?”

“I can only guess it was once a hunting lodge.” The man said, looking around the interior. “Solid wood, good construction against the elements. I found it many years ago. It has been my home ever since.” He paused, just short of the light and blinked at the man. “I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

Bobjorn shivered under the warmth of the fire, which had only grown smaller. “That is little comfort, this fire is not nearly enough--” He froze as the man stepped forward and revealed himself to the light. The stranger was massive, at least two heads taller than the viking; his skin had an almost bluish tint, stark white hair covering his head, dangling down over the thick pelt of his large, hairy chest. Despite wearing only a loincloth; being a piece of fabric dangling down over his crotch, Bo’s eyes couldn’t help but gaze the beastly man. His throat went dry and he found himself unable to speak for a moment. “You--are a...half giant?”

The beast stood upright in front of Bobjorn, his absolutely humongous musculature in the full light of the fire. With that, he lifted a half-trunk of wood and dropped it onto the flickering flame, briefly dousing it before it began to flicker to life once again. “What gave you that idea?” He asked with a chuckle. “My name is Jan.”

“Jan? That is a peculiar name.”

“No less than the overly grandiose Bobjorn?” He asked as he seated himself next to the viking beside the fire, stretching his hands out for the livening light trickling from it higher and higher. He glanced at the viking, who stared at him incredulously. “You speak in your sleep.” He said. “I am the mighty Bobjorn!” He exclaimed, pumping his fist against his chest. “Great enemies have fallen to my strength, I will not let this cold stop me!” He made exaggerated growling noises, then laughed. “Typical human.”

Bobjorn said nothing and returned his hands to the fire, trying to absorb as much heat as he could, but his fingers were still trembling. “Surely this can’t be all the wood in this forest.”

“The only dry wood.” Jan admitted. “I had to lift up part of an avalanche to find it. I’m afraid this is about the only way that we have to stay warm.”

“About?”

Jan smirked slightly, revealing a pair of tusks that jutted out from the bottom of his mouth as he did so. “Yes, we could always warm each other.” He said, looming closer. “Body to body.”

Bobjorn’s heart jumped at the suggestion, laying up against another man for warmth? He could barely contain his arousal looking this giant’s massive body up and down. He could feel his face flush but he scoffed. “If that is the only way, then I would choose death!” He announced proudly. “I do not lay with men.”

“Oh.” Jan said, settling back on his massive hands and returning them to the fire. “Very well. Then I give this about two hours before the fire goes out, my body is more resistant to cold than yours, so I suggest finding a place to get warm before the fire goes out.”

Bo exhaled sharply and continued to try and warm himself, despite the heat coming off the fire, his back was still frigid and his clothes would likely not be dry for several hours. Casting his glance over to them he could see puddles of water dripping from the pile. He remained silent as Jan looked on and continued warming himself. Eventually though, the man shifted himself and stood to walk toward the giant, eventually settling down next to him. Jan grinned at the man’s approach, admiring his large form, the embodiment of masculinity and as soon as Bobjorn seated himself, reached a single arm around him and pulled him squarely in front of him, resting the man’s body against his stomach. “Mmm now this is much better, isn’t it?” Jan teased, his hair and his warm breath washing over the viking’s bare skin. Bo shivered at the touch, the goosebumps trailing across his entire neckline in response as his cock shot upright, hard as a stone as he felt himself rest back against the obvious bulge pressing against the half giant’s slim dressing. He’d never been so aroused by another man and his cock was already beginning to ache for it.

Jan’s fingers slipped around the viking’s cock tip playfully, dipping down into the hole of his foreskin and swirling it around softly, his long fingernails lightly sliding along the flesh within as the girth of his finger slowly pushed back against the skin, making the man wince and sigh in pleasure. Then the giant’s other massive arm came over his left shoulder and pulled him in close, allowing Bo to indulge in the throbbing of his still-tented mass of flesh. Bobjorn let out a sigh of pleasure as he tried to play it off that he wasn’t getting another man hard against his body, that he wasn’t about to be violated by this strangely rough yet gentle giant. But those thoughts quickly went out the window when Jan wrapped both of Bobjorn’s wrists up in one of his hands and lifted them high over his head and with a huff and a fell sweeping motion, the Viking now found himself with his chest against the floor and his arms held still above his head, effectively pinning him down. He felt the rub of Jan’s massive cock, slowly becoming unfurled from his loincloth as Jan used his free hand to pull it loose and discard it somewhere in the darkness. He felt that flesh run along his ass, from its base to its tip and was fully expecting it to go right in, like some beastly--

“Oh gods!” He exclaimed breathlessly as he felt something other than what he was expecting, beginning to probe his ass, a long, wet, and darting tongue that began to saturate him. He cried out passionately as he could feel it slip deep into his pucker and swirl around. The feeling had hit him so hard that he already began to leak precum that dribbled down onto the floor under his raised waist, leaving a rather visible and obvious pooling under his hairy body. He wanted it now, he wanted it badly and his only response to this move was to clench his ass cheeks and try to resist what was pushing inside.

Jan redoubled his efforts, using his free hand to spread Bobjorn’s cheeks apart while the other remained sternly clasped around his wrists to keep the viking from moving until he wanted it. Bobjorn was simply putty in the beast’s hands now, his body wriggling and writhing under Jan who laid over him now, letting his growling reach the man’s ear. “I see that you truly like this--” He chuckled deep in Bobjorn’s ear. “Why the facade?”

Bobjorn struggled to regain himself, Jan smelled of sex and sweat, and he could smell little else in this cold dark cabin. “N-no...I...” He huffed, trying to resist. “I don’t want thi-this...” His fingers were scratching hard into the floor now, trying to break free from the giant’s grasp. “I am a king, I should not be getting fucked by oth-other men...I must be the conqueror...”

“Says who?” Jan replied, not relenting his grip as his cock head teased as it bumped playfully against the viking’s taint.

“It is a s-sign of weakness, a mark on my right as chief to be fucked by another man is--is cowardly. A shame!”

“No.” Jan said sternly this time. “It is only a shame, it is only cowardly to hide who you truly are. I want to fuck you...’chief’...but I want to fuck a warrior, and not a coward. What say you, Bobjorn?” He fell still. “Will you forsake your desires this night to some foolish human judgment? Or will you indulge in your pleasure? Here and now?”

Bobjorn was biting his lower lip at this point, he could feel the need rising, an ache in his loins that resulted in more generous amounts of precum to drool out. He wanted it so badly that his legs were shaking. “Gods forsake me, just fuck me already!” He cried out after several seconds of contemplative silence.

“Oh the gods won’t forsake you for this.” He said as he crept low once again and his tongue found the beastly cock of the chief, he dragged it down to the tip and wrapped his mouth around it, his hands finally freeing Bobjorn’s wrists as he brought it down and began to probe his fingers at the opening, slowly sinking them in one at a time and thrusting each one in like five individual girths, spreading him even further. Bo moaned loudly and shivered in delight at each digit that sank deep into his ass until four thick fingers were working in that minimal wetness, but he felt the drool of saliva slip in as Jan finally moved from sucking the man’s tip and began to focus on what was coming next.

There was no amount of preparation that could have prepared Bobjorn for the thick cock now finding its way to his ass. Jan wrapped one arm around Bo’s massive chest, and the other raising his ass for the hole to meet it. He thrust forward with a growl and the utter ferocity of a wild animal. Almost immediately flesh slapped against hairy flesh with a loud and resounding slap that filled the room. Bobjorn howled and buried his head into his elbow as the wave of pain that was suddenly upon him nearly blinded his eyesight. But in a moment it was over, and he could feel nothing but intense filling and pleasure pounding into him. He was being stretched to his very limits and somehow that only made it feel even better. He huffed and growled as he raised his ass and slapped it against the giant’s thick cock. It was as big around as one of his own arms; or at least one of Irga’s arms, and the feeling of the flesh stretching and pulling deep inside of him sent surges of electric fire through his entire body. He could feel his stomach all but bulge every time their bodies struck together again and again. It was better than he could have imagined. Every tale he’d been told that this sort of treatment of a chief’s body grew less and less relevant with the blood sweat and precum flooding him at this very moment. He spread his arms out wide as if to hold the floor down under him as every thrust was so forceful, he could have sworn he was sliding across the room. The fire was growing ever and ever dimmer, but he didn’t feel the cold anymore, only the lust coursing through him at this very moment. Jan positioned himself higher on top of the chief and began to slam down into him as the man’s entry stretched and widened, growing accustomed to the massive thick cock. His balls were like boulders beating him senseless and making him almost cum himself every time his collided with them.

It wasn’t long enough for him, or maybe it had been an hour of this, Bobjorn could not even keep track of how long the beast was fucking him, so wildly that even the fire could not stay lit the entire time. He felt the beastly body atop him begin to tremble and with a sudden twist, Jan rolled over onto his back, sitting Bobjorn on top of him, upright and reversed in his position, he slammed his hands down on both of the viking’s shoulders and Bobjorn put his hands back on Jan’s thighs, both of them reaching a crescendo that shattered some of the windows nearest to them. First, Jan came. An exuberant amount shot hard and deep into the viking, who could feel the cum coating him on the insides. It felt like it was surging into his gut, almost sending shockwaves past that, causing his stomach to bloat and that caused a chain reaction. Bobjorn let out another howl, this one with a string of words that even Jan couldn’t translate as the man began to cum jets from his cock all over the dying fire in front of them before splashback began to soak the two of them as well. The overflow from the giant’s cock began to seep through and with no lack of control, began to pour from the viking like an out of control river covering Jan and the floor under them in a sea of white cum.

As their bodies finally began to relax and stop twitching from the incessant flow, Jan rolled Bobjorn over under his left arm and laid beside him on the cool flooring. His massive and hairy body pressed against the chief who suddenly felt as though he were relaxing inside one of his pelted blankets back at his hut. The warmth and the exhaustion finally welcoming him home.

Sun filtering in through the windows was the next thing Bobjorn could recall, his eyes fluttering open to find that he had been sleeping underneath Jan throughout the night. The fire had long since gone out, and stains of their nightly--emissions could still be seen sprayed out across the used kindling. For a moment, he was content; but only for a moment, as he spotted Irga and the rest of his hunting party finally entering the lodge. They observed him, then the carcass of the great bear nearby before noticing Jan laying on top of him. As they approached, Bobjorn held up his hands to halt them from doing anything and they sheathed their weapons and observed the situation.

“My chief...” Irga said after a long and rather amused pause. “Is there something you would like to share with us?”

THE END