Excerpt for The Blacksmith Has Needs That Can Only Be Satisfied by a Tendermost Touch: An MM Historical Muscle Worship Novelette by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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The Blacksmith Has Needs That Can Only Be Satisfied by a Tendermost Touch: An MM Historical Muscle Worship Novelette

Gaylord Fancypants

Copyright 2018

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All characters depicted in sexual situations in this publication are eighteen years of age or older.

These stories are about fictional consenting adults engaging in taboo and controversial sexual acts. Nobody involved in the creation of this ebook, including authors, editors and models, support immoral or illegal acts in real life. Cover models are not intended to illustrate specific people and the content does not refer to models' actual acts, identity, history, beliefs or behavior. No characters depicted in this ebook are intended to represent real people.


The Smithy

Daggith walked into the town of Sparendale, England, and smiled at all the people no matter how distrustfully they looked back on him. This was a remote corner of England, so outsiders whom no one recognized were rare. Daggith was even more of an outsider than they knew. They probably assumed he was a bandit. It was good he came alone -- if he was in a group, he'd almost certainly have been stopped at the village limits.

A few children stopped to gawk. Daggith grinned apishly back, and the children looked away. They were scared of outsiders. He waved at them nicely, but it only seemed to terrify them even more.

"Who are you, stranger?"

"I am Daggith, late of Virginia," Daggith said. That was where he had come from most recently. But now he was back in England during the Old English era, when Vikings marauded freely along the coasts of sunny Albion. The state of Virginia wouldn't even exist for centuries.

Daggith was a time-traveler, who voyaged across history, and sometimes space, in search of justice, rightitude and the sexiest alpha males he could find. He was in Sparendale for that second one: rightitude.

Something had gone terribly wrong in history here. Daggith could sense it with his third eye, and he was here to right it.

"Aye, what say you? Virginia?" asked the man who had confronted him. He must have been a sort of a guardsman, at least informally, it seemed -- this village was too small to have an actual gate or wall or any guardsmen, but this man was supposed to watch out for interlopers. He was young and fit and rather sexy, in a plain tunic and leather leggings. He was scruffy and long-haired, and he had a handsome but oblong face.

He wasn't sexy enough for Martin to get distracted from his mission though. He sensed Time Gremlins, or their work anyway. His third eye throbbed. That was too important to be distracted by a mildly hot man.

"Yes, it is a land far from here." He gestured west. "That way."

"You sound English. You are not from England?"

Daggith nodded. "I am." That was his fantastic time-travel machine, which allowed him to traverse the paths of history, and also gave him the knowledge and equipment needed to survive there. It was what gave him the ability to speak Old English with perfect fluency. In this case, he realized belatedly he should have chosen to give himself an accent -- this lanky fellow with the dark eyes now regarded Daggith suspiciously. "Yes, uh, well, I was born in Kent," Daggith said. "I am lately of Virginia instead. I am only here by myself, my good man. I present no threat. What is your name?"

"I am Ainsley," he said. "What is your business here? Are you related to a man here?"

"No, no, I'm here to visit with... That person." Daggith pointed to a large hut nearby, next to which sat a forge. He sensed that that was where the distortion in the time mesh could be found. He felt it emanating from there. "The blacksmith, I should expect?"

"John the Smith?"

"Indeed, the very fellow," Daggith said. He hurried away from Ainsley, who followed at first, then walked away. Daggith strode directly to the blacksmith's hut. He stood and watched as the blacksmith pounded away at a sword, which he then lifted -- and finally noticed Daggith standing there -- before plunging it into a bucket of water.

Steam billowed out, and a loud sizzle filled the air. The children who had been following behind Daggith all ran forward to watch. Daggith waited, the ultra-hot steam nearly singeing his skin. It came out of the hut in huge clouds, bigger than Daggith was expecting; he winced and backed away.

When the steam-cloud cleared, he was left with the sight of John the Smith, a man tall of frame and sturdy in build, seemingly born to be a smith. He was shouldered like a bear, with a broad chest dripping with sweat. He was the heaviest man in the village by far, and the hairiest, with a dense mop of black hair, all tangled with sweat on his head, and a carpet on his chest. His skin was nut-brown normally, tanned by the sun on his usually bare-chested body, but now ruddy, slightly burnt in parts from the steam. He stepped away from the smithy and shooed the children.

"Skedaddle! Brats!" He turned to look at Daggith. "How say you, good sir?"

Daggith blushed and nodded. He was momentarily at a loss for words, and forgot why he was here. John the Smith wore only a ragged leather cloth around his waist -- he had other clothes, laying on the ground to the side, but when he worked with such intense heat, he stripped as far as decency would allow, or even a bit farther.

"I, uh... have you noticed some unusual occurrences?" Daggith asked.

"Sir?" John the Smith wiped sweat off his brow. His eyes narrowed to slits as he realized Daggith was an outsider. This village didn't get a lot of travelers.

"Has something been going wrong in your forge? Something you can't explain?"

Blushing, John looked outside the forge, then shooed away a couple boys who had again gathered to watch Daggith. John motioned for Daggith to follow him around just behind the forge, into a small yard with vegetables growing. He looked around suspiciously like he had avoided showing anyone this.

Here it was, Daggith was sure of it. He sensed the Time Gremlins at work. He strode through the vegetables, trying to find the source of it.

"It's been the damnedest thing, sir, I just planted those carrots two days ago. They grew out of the ground so fast I can watch them grow. I keep planting carrots there, and they keep shooting out of the ground. I wouldn't complain about that, of course, because I could always use more vegetables," he said. "But look over there." He pointed to a small stone hovering in the air, seemingly motionless. "I tossed that stone last week. It's still in the air. It moves, but very slowly."

Daggith went to the stone and plucked it out of the air. He dropped it and it fell to the ground.

John the Smith grumbled. "I could-a done that, sir, I thought it might have been cursed, or ensorceled, so I didn't want to touch it," he said. "My garden used to be a nice place. I enjoy plants, sir, I always did. But now this yard is frightening. The air here crawls with spirits."

"Do not worry, John the Smith," Daggith said. He smiled. "This garden is not cursed. The Time Gremlins have been doing an experiment, that is all, they are looking for a weak spot in the time mesh. And they found one: They have snuck into your time through your yard. I can fix it. That's what I do, John the Smith. But the more serious problem in the long-term is-"

"Time Gremlin? What is that?" John the Smith furrowed his big cavemanish brow.

Daggith touched his bicep and giggled. He blushed because he had forgotten he was talking to a blacksmith, so his arms were like granite, like warm stone that was taut and supple beneath his touch. Daggith blushed. "It's... a creature of sorts. You don't need to worry about the details. Are there any newcomers to the area? Besides me?"

"Well, the monks are new. They moved to the area just a few months ago. They've established an abbey on Fendell's Moor," John the Smith said. His eyes lit up. "That was only a few days after I first noticed the carrots growing so swiftly! Are they responsible?" He went towards the forge again. "Let me get my axe! They cursed the wrong smith! I knew I didn't trust monks. They like to play themselves off like-"

"No, no," Daggith said. He followed after John, whose great body towered overhead. John didn't seem to hear Daggith's small words, and Daggith couldn't think of anything else to do but leap on John's back. "Stop! They'll hurt you."

He managed to grip John's bare shoulders for only a moment before his forge-sweatened body became too slippery for Daggith to hold onto. John stopped walking just as Daggith slid down his back, getting a faceful of blacksmith sweat. He ended up on his feet, his face ensconced in John the Smith's big meaty back.

John turned to face Daggith and frowned at him like he was personally insulted. "They won't hurt me." He picked up a battle axe. "I am the biggest man in the village! I have fought a bear, and I fought three men at once, three men from the village of Martindale -- ask anyone, I did it. I-"

"No, wait, these creatures are Time Gremlins-"

"You keep saying that as though it means something."

"I know, I know, you've never heard of them before, it's just a monster."

"Like a dragon?"

"Well..." Daggith shrugged. The answer was no, but he nodded his head. "Yeah. Like a dragon, kinda. But they shapeshift, so they look like men. If you go there, they'll use magic on you, they won't let you get near them. They split you in twain." He patted John's plump asscheeks beneath his loincloth. He had been so involved with tracking down the time distortion and the Gremlins that he had almost forgotten how sexy John's body was. Daggith was a bit of a muscle-queen. John didn't even seem to notice Daggith's hand on his buttocks at first. Then when he did, he blushed -- not because of Daggith's hand, but because he hadn't meant to leave his forge in the loincloth.

"Ah, yes, I can not fight against magic. You will have to fight that battle, sorcerer," John said. He sighed. "What am I to do?"

"You should relax," Daggith said. He went back out to the yard and John followed. Daggith brought out his temporal screwdriver, which could repair the fabric of space-time. He ignored John and went to work fixing it. It took about twenty minutes -- the Time Gremlins had overloaded the time mesh, so it fried the temporal screwdriver's circuits, required Daggith to spend awhile fixing it.

This would prevent any new Time Gremlins from coming into this era, at least through this spot. They wouldn't likely come back at all, not anytime soon.

John the Smith stood glowering, watching Daggith suspiciously. He didn't much like anything he didn't understand, and all this junk about Time Gremlins and time meshes and magical dragons didn't make any sense to him. He wouldn't have let this outsider come anywhere's near his garden except that something was already happening there that he didn't understand.

"Is it fixed?" he asked when Daggith appeared done, and put the temporal screwdriver away.

Daggith nodded. "I will head out in the morning to meet with those 'monks' you spoke of," Daggith said. "That will eliminate the problem at its root."

John fixed his eyes on the carrots. It was hard to put his finger on it, but he was sure Daggith was right even though it wasn't obvious why. He waited, squinting to see the carrots grow -- they remained the same size as previously, however, and they looked more normal. What John was unable to articulate was the movement of the leafy green part of the carrot plants -- before, when the damage to the time mesh was in effect, the breeze had ripped through the greens at a higher rate of time-flow than the spot where John stood. It would take a computer to literally calculate that difference, but John's eyes could tell at a glance that something was not right -- the carrot had been on a slight fast-forward setting, just like that stone in the air had been on a very slow slow-motion.

But now it was all fixed, and the garden looked right again. The squirrel infestation was as bad as ever, John noticed. That was because the squirrels' life-cycle had been effectively sped up around the time distortion, resulting in thirty-eight squirrels living in the trees in John's yard wherein normally lived two or three.

Daggith couldn't do anything about the squirrels, so he didn't bring that up. John would just have to trap them and eat copiously of squirrel-meat for a time. Now that the problem was fixed, the squirrels would reproduce at a more normal rate, and the trees here wouldn't support them long-term anyway, so it would be best to eat them.

John grunted and nodded his satisfaction. He now accepted that Daggith was a sorcerer of some sort -- evidently a good-hearted one, but still, John was frightened of magic. He chuckled dryly. "You are a strange man with great power."

"Indeed." Daggith squeezed John's bicep, the size and firmness of which made Daggith swoon. He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on finding those monks until he satisfied his baser urges, something he was fairly certain John would be fine with, with the right sweetener. "I noticed, John, that you have no mold for a dagger, correct?" He followed John into the smithy.

In order to build something out of steel, it was necessary for John the Smith -- whose descendants would be the Smith family of Exeter, England, later of Raleigh-Durham, Minneapolis, Regina and Adelaide and whose nomenclatural descendants include the African American Smith family of Raleigh-Durham as well -- to use a mold. Molten steel was poured into a mold made of wood. Such molds were difficult to make, requiring great expertise and precision; even the tiniest flaw would render the final product a worthless hunk of expensive metal and precious time. John the Smith was good at it and yet had spent all of last year trying over and over to make a mold for a shovel-head. He had finally succeeded. There were a million tiny ways for a mold to go wrong, and no way to see most of them until the shovel was made poorly.

He had molds now for a shovel, sword, axe, horseshoe and a few other odds and ends. But he had none for a small dagger or knife. Villagers still needed to travel to Exeter for anything like that, or John himself did the traveling for them (since he was well-suited to judge the quality of smithwork).

"I would greatly appreciate a mold for a dagger," John said, his eyes lighting up. That was the next mold he intended to make. Once he had that, he thought, he would be able to smith all the metalwork his village needed (he had thought the same thing when creating the shovel-head mold, and that had lasted until he made it, and his neighbors instantly began pestering him for a small dagger).

"Excellent," Daggith said. He followed John into the home attached to the smithy. It was just a one-room hut with a hearth in one corner, a few coals still smoldering there. John tossed another hunk of wood in to keep it going. "I can give you one."

"That would be most invaluable," John said. "I would be glad to smith you something in payment. Are you in need of a dagger right now-?"

"No, no," Daggith said. He produced the wooden mold, immaculately created -- his time machine could generate such things on a moment's notice. "I don't need anything from you, or at least... nothing smithed." He let his fingers dance up John's broad chest. John screwed up his eyes. Daggith smiled. "Do you ever... fornicate with men?"

"Bah!" John grumbled. "That is what the men of Martindale do. They are fools. Their men act as women, and their smith is a disreputable lout. Their burgomaster is an elderly female! That whole town is full of perverts and prostitutes."

"Hmmm... Yes, I see, that... sounds like a hot place, but I'm not in Martindale," Daggith said. "I thought maybe... in exchange for this mold, you might be willing to... pretend you're a man from Martindale -- not the bottom, just on top. You could... plow my rear fields?"

John grumbled and sucked on his lip. But he dropped the strip of cloth he wore over his crotch, revealing a thick prick that was glossy with sweat. At first Daggith was disappointed because it didn't look very big, but then he hefted it in his hands and realized it was actually huge -- more than ten inches long and as thick as Daggith's forearm -- it simply looked small in comparison to John the Smith's huge frame and trunk-like thighs.

Daggith popped the tip in his mouth, looking up at John's ruddy face. He was still reddish from the flames and steam -- that was a more or less permanent feature of blacksmiths -- but now he also blushed. John had never let a man do this while sober (there was a flouncing young twinkish villager who served drinks and sometimes provided oral entertainment to the manlier locals) and he felt very awkward at first. His dick hung moistly, limply in Daggith's mouth. John wasn't sure he could get hard with no women around, not even Bertha the servicing wench who usually bared her titty when John got sucked off by that twink.

But now all he could do was picture her heavy bosom and curvy frame. John closed his eyes as a surge of pleasure finally hit him. It simply took a moment for him to recover from his anxiety, both at the sex and the strange outsider.

His dick twitched. It was thick and fleshy, uncut of course. Daggith loved foreskin. He stroked it with one hand, making John's chest flex as his shaft firmed up in Daggith's grasp. Daggith kissed it right on the tip, making John shake.

John was often sexually frustrated, dear reader, even though mores were lax in this era -- actual penis-in-vagina sex was taboo and forbidden outside of a marriage. But anything else was seen as not-actual-sex. So when John allowed that lilting local to suck him off when he was drunk, or when the local prostitute let him titty-fuck her, these things were seen as minor indiscretions, the equivalent of jacking off to Internet porn. John was just a bit ashamed at letting Daggith suck him off, mainly because he hadn't gotten drunk first (that was always just an excuse though, since he got drunk whenever he was horny knowing he would get his rocks off that way). So John was excited to get sucked off this time without anyone knowing, without needing to get drunk or sweet-talk a prostitute, and without even needing to leave his home.

He even got a free mold out of it. That was worth the equivalent of tens of thousands of dollars, dear reader, and indeed, it was the making of molds that really demonstrated a blacksmith's value -- any strong man could learn how to smith some simple steel tools with a bit of training and the proper supplies, but only the best could make a usable mold.

Once his dick was hard, however, John the Smith forgot about all that. All he cared about was plowing his dick deeply down the stranger's throat.

Nobody had ever sucked him off this good before. John the Smith moaned so loud the spinster next door sucked on her teeth (she assumed John was doing work and made noise as he strained to pound on steel) and scowled, ready to issue forth complaints. She disliked living next-door to such a man, who was all muscle and hair and sweat.

"Ah, yes, good sir, you should stay in our village. You could be my assistant," John said with a chuckle. It was obvious this outsider wouldn't agree to that, but he couldn't say no now, not with John the Smith's massive dick throbbing in his throat. John didn't normally like to make eye contact with the men who sucked his dick, but this time, he couldn't resist.

He couldn't believe Daggith could swallow the entire thing. Daggith's nose nuzzled John's dense pubic bush -- which Daggith noted included some singed hairs, suggesting John sometimes smithed in the nude -- as salty precum coated his tongue. Daggith reached one hand between those incredible corded-muscle thighs, veins popping out of the skin, and stroked his hairy, low-hanging balls.

John moaned again. Nobody had ever made him feel like this. John had given up on finding a wife because no one liked his size and his rough demeanor, or the fact that he often did his work wearing only a tiny scrap of fabric -- women found these traits off-putting. They wanted clean-cut noble-type men, who managed others, not those who came home every day with burns and scars, with body hair covering his chest, and grease knotting up the thick mane on his head.

Daggith smiled up at John as he licked a trail from his crotch to his chest. "Do you like milkmaids, John?" he asked. John's upper lip twitched. Daggith smiled, stroking his moist cock, which dripped fluid over Daggith's fingers. He sucked on John's nipple and asked again, more insistently this time. "Do you like curvy ladies?"

There was a nasty burn scar on his side, a big splotch of rough tissue that had thin tendrils dripping down -- a splash of molten metal had hit him, Daggith gathered from the shape. He licked it, exulting in the scratchy texture. His hands caressed every inch of John the Smith's gigantic body.

"Hmmm... Do you like curvy ladies?"

"What...? Yes," John said through gritted teeth. He gasped as Daggith turned around and rubbed his smooth ass against John's cock. Daggith had to stand on his toes to line up correctly.

"Hmmm... One curvy lady in particular?" Daggith's time-machine had alerted him to the fact that John's future wife was the beautiful Audrey, the local lord's adult daughter.

"Oh yes..." John closed his eyes. He could picture Audrey's milk-white skin and her delightfully curving hips. She could bear a lot of babies with those hips, John thought, the notion making his dick throb between Daggith's asscheeks.

"You should go to her," Daggith said. Then he hurried to add, "not now, I mean. Just... later. Don't let your fears control your life, John the Smith."

He grunted. "I do not fear, and I certainly do not fear any maiden." His dick pulsated, precum flowing out over Daggith's smooth asscheeks. John sucked in his breath, shocked at how good this felt. He bristled though, still annoyed at the suggestion he was afraid. It was hard to concentrate on his words though, because he was overwhelmed by the pleasure rippling over his muscles.

"You're not afraid she'll reject you?"

"Her father will never give me permission to marry her," John said, closing his eyes. "He has already decided she will marry one of those handsome lads who work for His Lordship. She will marry into the manor, and their children will serve the Earl."

"Ah... I see," Daggith said. He could have used his time machine to find out the details of how and why John would end up with his future wife, the current-day Earl's daughter Audrey. But John didn't care enough about the details, which he suspected were complicated -- he just wanted to put the notion into John's head; he knew for a fact that their marriage occurred eventually. "Still, don't rule anything out, John." He squirmed his ass, rubbing it against Daggith's cock, which teased the rim of his ass.

John held his breath, too aroused to really consider Daggith's words. "Uh-huh."

"She will like you, I suspect, and fathers' plans have a way of falling to the side when girls meet the man of their dreams."

"Bah! We do not marry for love in this village," he said. "I must have a son to carry on my lineage."

"Oh, trust me, the Smith name doesn't die out," Daggith said. He always thought it was kind of strange that the Smith surname was so widespread in the modern era, since there were not many smiths at all in olden times. He chuckled, reaching behind himself to teasingly massage the throbbing vein on the upper surface of John's dick. Then his fingers roamed up, smearing sweat over the mat of fur that covered John's chest. He paid especial attention to the supple skin -- some rough, some taut and smooth like a baby -- were his body hair had been scorched off. John was numb in those spots, but the perimeter was astoundingly sensitive, and even ticklish in parts. John's whole body shook beneath John's delicate grasp, and more precum flowed out into Daggith's tight asscrack.

"That is good to hear," John said, though he didn't entirely understand Daggith's words. Surnames were not in use for commoners in this corner of the world in this time-frame, dear reader, so John did not understand why Daggith referred to the "Smith name". He gathered the gist of Daggith's point however, and was too focused on his own throbbing, horny cock to care about the details.

Daggith backed up. He aimed John's erect dick for his ass, and it slid in with just a hint of pain. Daggith sucked on his teeth.

In John's village, dear reader, anal sex was treated as something like a joke -- there were definitely those who did it, but few who acknowledged it. Both heterosexual and homosexual anal sex were politely ignored or treated as the butt of off-color jokes. No women admitted to doing it, not even the village prostitute. Since John was so big and horse-cocked, no one had ever even jokingly or drunkenly considered taking his dick in the ass, and John was unaware that it was a real thing. If asked before this moment, he would have said of course it was impossible, no person could take an entire dick in their asshole.

But when he opened his eyes, he saw his own manhood sliding into Daggith's ass. He would have expressed astonishment, but it felt so good he could do little more than roar and pound on his chest.

"Hmmm... Stick it in me, John!" Daggith cried out when he felt resistance in his own ass. He needed John to force his dick in since Daggith had little leverage in this position, bent over and grabbing his ankles.

John held onto Daggith's ass, his eyes opened wide. He was shocked to be doing this, astounded by the feel of his cock being clenched down on by Daggith's tight bottom. He drilled it in deeper, and Daggith squirmed.

His balls slapped against Daggith's ass, making a satisfyingly meaty thump. John cackled. "Ah, sweet-man, you are strange, but I am glad you have come to my village."

"Hmm, me too," Daggith said with a moan. He dragged John's hand around his body until it wrapped around Daggith's cock. John was too engrossed in his fucking to even consider whether it was normal to give a man a reacharound, so he simply did it without a second thought.

In moments they were both on the ground, Daggith on all fours, John on his knees, leaning over a bit because he was so much taller he needed to angle himself to get into Daggith's ass.

Finally an orgasm erupted within them both at once. Daggith howled, but the sound was drowned out by John's baritone bellow. Half the village heard his voice, which carried like thunder -- luckily, he frequently shouted like that when burning himself badly, so everyone just assumed that was what happened now.

Great jets of cum filled Daggith's ass. John the Smith had those big low-hanging balls brimming with juices now draining into Daggith as he shot his own load onto the dirt floor of the smithy's hut. It just kept on going, making Daggith moan over and over. He had rarely been fucked this good.

John felt the same way. He had very little sexual experience, and virtually no sober sexual experience, so he was overwhelmed by how good this felt. The vein on his forehead pulsated, and he gripped Daggith's cheeks with all his might, until Daggith squirmed like it hurt and John let go.

"Ah, confound it!" John the Smith slipped back, toppling onto his giant ass. He flopped onto the floor of his hut, wallowing in the cool dirt. He grunted loudly, his muscles all falling limp at once along with his dick.

Daggith curled up next to him, caressing those soft, sore muscles. Like most big men, when he was tired, he just spread his limbs and snored, asleep in seconds. Daggith rubbed his shoulders as he dozed and gave him a long massage.

Eventually, he realized John was fully asleep. Daggith stood and patted dirt off his bare ass. He put his clothes back on and sighed. He wished he could spend more time here with John the Smith, but he had an important mission to attend to.

Those Time Gremlins would ruin the time mesh if Daggith didn't do something about it. He needed to go take care of them. He could always come back to see John again afterwards.

But Daggith was sure that wouldn't happen. He rarely returned to the same place and time. He had a million adventures in time trade ahead of him, and he intended to make the most of each one.

For now, he thought, John the Smith's description of Martindale sounded intriguing. Daggith thought he might check that out.

But business first, he reminded himself as he headed out of the smithy. First, he needed to go destroy those Time Gremlins.


The Manor

Daggith went to Fendell's Moor the next morning, in search of the "monks", whom Daggith was quite certain were actually Time Gremlins. They could look like ordinary people, and hiding in a makeshift monastery was an easy way to avoid being caught.

This deep in the wilderness, it was easy to avoid being caught because nobody ever came out this far. It was a mucky mire, the mud sticking to Daggith's legs like a cast until he had to stop to take his pants off, smack them against a tree and watch the cakes of mud plop off.

No wonder they set up here, he thought.

It was possible they had seen him. He had the distinct impression he was being followed, but every time he turned around to see who was behind him, there was no one there. Time Gremlins were sneaky like that, and they were cowardly so they very well might follow him without confronting him.

He finally saw their monastery a little after noon. It loomed above the cypress trees that filled the bog, and it was very obviously not a monastery -- it was a spaceship. Probably no humans had seen it because it was out here in the moor, or if they had, they had no frame of reference to describe it. The "monks" had called it a "monastery", so that was what the locals said it was.

But it was a spaceship, and a time machine to boot. It was tall and spiky, with a round body so it had centrifugal force when rotating in space. It was a mid-sized transporter, he thought, with a crew of perhaps a hundred.

They would be around here somewhere siphoning off time itself to power their hideous ship. Daggith sighed and withdrew his scanner to see if he could find them. When he turned around, he gasped and yelped. Someone was there.

"Ah!" Daggith jumped back, landing in a moist spot of mud. He first assumed it was a Time Gremlin, about to attack him. But it wasn't, it was a civilian, a local. It took Daggith a few moments to recognize him.

It was John the Smith. He stood there watching the ship, dumbfounded and exhilarated, mouth wide open, eyes agape. He realized he had been seen and grunted. "Uh... Sorry."

"John... you followed me?"

"I did," he said. "I did not trust you. You are a sorcerer, you are perhaps in league with the Devil-"


"I was concerned for my village, and for my beloved Audrey," he said. He furrowed his brow. "What are you? What did you do in my garden?"

"I repaired the time mesh, John. And here, I'm going to get rid of the Time Gremlins. That's who ruined it in the first place," Daggith said. He began moving around to the other side of a big woody copse, hoping he could see the door to the spaceship.

"You keep saying the word time, which I know the meaning of. But can you explain what you mean by it?" John asked after a long pause.

Daggith was about to snap at him. He wanted John to go away so Daggith could figure this situation out. But when he looked at him, he was reminded of how sexy he was, and Daggith decided to make an exception to his normal solo-adventuring rule: He wanted a companion.

It wasn't easy to explain this stuff to someone with John's level of education though.

"Look... I'll explain, John, and I'll give you a handjob to calm you down-"

"Okay!" John blushed; he hadn't meant to blurt that out so quickly.

"But you have to relax and trust me. I can't explain this stuff without a background in theoretical physics. Those creatures are stealing your time, John -- the actual passage of time, the seconds ticking by, it's a resource. Those Time Gremlins steal it. That's how they power their ship. Do you understand?"

"Sort of... How do you steal time?"

"With math," Daggith said. "Let's wait here." The woody spot here was well-defensible and easy to hide in, and Daggith could see the front of the spaceship. "They'll send a scouting party out sometime soon. They'll need to find a rich vein of time to tap. Not just any spot will do; they've been searching since they landed here, I would assume, and since they're still around, they obviously haven't found it. Once they leave, we'll break in there and disable the ship's time-mining gear."

They crouched there watching with focus and determination for awhile. When no one came out of the ship in the first few minutes though, Daggith remembered he had promised John a handjob.

John stood there, tall and proud like a sturdy oak. He looked down at Daggith as though annoyed that he hadn't already begun the handjob.

Daggith chuckled and pulled John's trousers down. He was much cleaner than he had been yesterday, since he hadn't been smithing in a hot forge for hours. His body was dry and taut from the chill in the air. Daggith kissed him on one nipple, and both of his giant blacksmith-pecs flexed like a stripper. Daggith loved that.

His hands roamed around behind John's body, massaging his fiercesome back muscles. John flared his nostrils a bit -- he didn't see any reason for muscle worship; he wanted a handjob, and that was that. But he wasn't going to complain. Men were always impressed by his muscles, but women were normally turned off by them, so it was nice to be appreciated for once. John flexed his biceps so Daggith could squeal and hang from them like a monkey, his mouth guzzling up every drop of sweat he could find (not many).

John hadn't known what a "handjob" was when Daggith offered it. He got the gist of it -- he was getting pretty good at understanding Daggith even though he spoke like a strange person, and John still wasn't sure he believed this whole Time Gremlin thing -- but he didn't realize "handjob" meant no-mouth. That seemed pointless. John grunted and wondered if he could get his dick back in the stranger's mouth soon.

So when Daggith began stroking his cock with both hands, John bristled and waited. He wanted to get his dick wet. John and his fellow blacksmiths circlejerked a lot -- that was not seen as even remotely sexual; it was just a fun way for men to bond and unwind; the blacksmiths from all the surrounding villages got together once a year, and they always jacked each other off. They were each so thickly built that they virtually had to spoon each other to do it, and the whole affair sometimes turned into a drunken orgy.

But John wasn't going to admit anything like that. He didn't see it as sex anyway. He was just eager to drain his balls, and he guided Daggith's head to his crotch.

"Oh..." Daggith was about to say no. He wanted to suck John's cock, but he also needed to keep an eye on the spaceship. So he told John to do so, and he dove his head down that massive throbbing shaft, all the way to the root.

Of course, things went wrong at the exact wrong time -- that always happened on these Time Gremlin trips. Daggith was so excited to suck John's dick again that he didn't hear the door to the spaceship open. He realized it was happening only when that first delicious burst of cum hit his tongue.

But his instinctual need for manjuice meant he couldn't tear his face off that foot-long slab of meat. His hands still stretched up to John's broad chest, as John pumped his hips and poured gobs of creamy cum down Daggith's throat.

"Oh confound it..." John moaned, his voice breaking. "Ah... There they are. They look like men -- oh, yeah, swallow it all -- they're coming out-" His voice broke, and his knees buckled. He was overwhelmed by both his orgasm and his need to explain what he saw, both at once. "There's three... Three of them-" He threw his head back and wordlessly howled -- it would have been very loud, but he was trying to be sneaky, and it took all of his concentration to be quiet.

Daggith was annoyed with himself, but less worried. He had ways of succeeding even if he was distracted now. He kept on deep-throating until his face had turned red from lack of oxygen, and John leaned back limply against a tree.

Finally, Daggith could bring himself to pull off. He blushed and looked up at John. "Okay, which direction did they go?"

"That way."

Daggith felt bad about shirking his duty, so he got up and hurried off even before John had pulled his trousers back up. John had to tuck his still half-hard dick away and then chase after him, nearly falling over before he could get his pants up.

Those men did not look like monks. Now that he had blown his wad, John could concentrate. He had always thought the monks were strange -- why would they choose to live in the moor? -- but now he realized Daggith had to be right. They had an offputting, menacing aura. John had known, deep in his heart, all along that they were not real monks. He was glad someone had shown up to help.

They soon found the trail. Daggith was an experienced ranger, so he was able to follow it -- muddy moors were very easy environments to follow someone in, because it was impossible to avoid leaving footprints.

"They are almost to the White estate," John said. They'd been getting closer to it for some time, but John hadn't said it until he was sure. They were technically on the White property now, having crossed the border as they came down a hill.

The Whites didn't actually use the swampy portion of their land though. They farmed oats on their estate, and oats couldn't grow in Fendell's Moor. Lord White's land extended well away from their manor though.

That was Audrey's estate, or her father's, technically. She wasn't allowed to own land due to her gender; she couldn't even inherit it. John was glad to have an excuse to see her, but he was nervous about whether or not her father would accept it.

"He knows, or strongly suspects I think, that I have feelings for his daughter. He will not allow any excuses for us to see each other," John said.

"Then we'll just have to not be seen," Daggith said. He wasn't that worried about it, because his time-travel machine had told him that John and Audrey would wind up marrying and having many children. One way or another, it was going to work itself out. But he couldn't say that right now. He didn't want to affect the timeline.

"There they are!" John pointed to the Time Gremlins.

They were dressed like monks, in long, heavy robes, but Daggith was trained to see the signs of Time Gremlins, and the glasses he wore saw through their disguise. The Time Gremlins strode through the oat fields towards the manor itself. They glided as though they didn't even step foot on the ground.

"They are going to the house," Daggith said. "Your girlfriend is in danger! Let's go!"

Daggith ran, and John followed after him. He was scandalized by the use of the term girlfriend, the Old English equivalent of which was not very polite and which implied that she was a prostitute; there was no ordinary non-judgmental word for a girlfriend. Daggith hadn't intended for that. Sometimes, when time-traveling, translations simply didn't work.

They arrived at the manor house in time to see the Time Gremlins examining a blade of grass -- or actually inspecting the flow of time in that section of the lawn, but to the other workers in the White household, it looked like the monks were pondering a few blades of grass. They were creepy and offputting, but that seemed like precisely the kind of thing monks might do, so no one complained.

By the time they were close enough to hear, Daggith and John could see that the servants had gone for Master White. They hung back from the mysterious monks, who eyed them suspiciously. It looked like a fight might break out at any moment.

Then came a beautiful brown-haired woman with a broad, lilting grin and a laugh like a ray of sunshine. She was obviously Audrey. She walked in a light-hearted way, bouncing along, carrying a basket of berries and accompanied by two maids who lugged their own, larger baskets of berries -- they had been berry-picking.

The Time Gremlins grabbed her as she walked past, and berries went flying across the lawn. The servants scattered as bedlam erupted, and one of the Time Gremlins held a knife to her neck.

"Stand back, and allow us to finish our work!" the Time Gremlin said as Daggith and John approached.

"I will get him," John said, his voice tense, lips narrowing to a slit. He gritted his teeth and approached.

"Wait, John-" Daggith didn't want to run right in and attack, but he wasn't going to let John get killed. He shouldn't have gotten John involved in the first place.

"You! Unhand the maiden! She is not yours!" John said. He stepped forward and cocked his head left and right, stretching his muscles. He formed a fist with his left hand and punched his right.

Daggith hung back behind him with a time-distorter of his own. Unlike the Time Gremlins, this wouldn't steal any amount of time, but it would cause a minor ripple in the time mesh. He simply pointed it at the Time Gremlin's knife on Audrey's throat, and he activated it -- that teleported the knife to the future and replaced it with the version of the knife that was already there -- ten million years from now. That far in the future, the molecules that made up that knife had separated and were scattered all over.

So what it looked like was the knife disappeared. That wasn't what happened, but nobody could see that the knife teleported to the future and was replaced by its own future rust, which dropped like dust onto the grassy lawn.

The Time Gremlin was so shocked that it didn't even react, except to try to jab its knifeless hand into John's chest, when John approached, fists swinging. One fist collided with the Time Gremlin's face, knocking it to the ground.

"Begone!" John shouted.

By this point, Daggith had made himself visible. He made eye contact with the Time Gremlins, who recognized him and scattered. John stood there proud, bare chest baking in the sun, the servants applauding him.

Audrey, of course, ran inside -- it wouldn't do for a maiden to be near a shirtless man -- but not before sneaking John a flirty glance. Her father came out moments later though.

Daggith hung back. Everyone knew John, who was strong and tough, so everyone assumed John had saved Audrey. Daggith hadn't intended to set this up in order to bring John and Audrey together, but it soon became clear that that was what was going to happen.

Lord White would allow Audrey to have chaperoned visits with John, whose heroism in defending the manor -- and his apparent skill in disintegrated a knife without touching it -- made him suitable enough to court Audrey.

John got all the credit. No one gave Daggith any mind, and that was precisely the way he liked it.


The Monastery

Daggith figured that would be it. He wasn't going to get to mess around with John anymore. That was fine with him really. He would have enjoyed it, but he liked to move on -- there were other sexy blacksmiths out there in history. Besides that, he knew the Time Gremlins would find another spot to attack. They were good at that.

He assumed they would leave quickly though. Once he found them, they usually fled -- they were cowards, and they knew Daggith would win any fight with them. They were probably already seeking out their next target.

He wanted to verify it though. So the last thing he did with John was go back to the "monastery" to be sure it was gone. They trudged through Fendell's Moor once again.

This time they didn't even try to hide it. Daggith assumed the Time Gremlins were gone, or were about to be. So he didn't worry about it. He just wanted to verify their departure and maybe get fucked by John one last time -- he hadn't yet hooked up with Audrey, so he was still single for a few more weeks at least. Daggith had a feeling that John and Audrey would fall madly in love as soon as her father allowed them to court.

A part of him hoped he could watch. He loved a good love story. But he was going to have to chase these Time Gremlins. He wouldn't be able to stick around.

It was their lack of stealth that got them caught. Daggith was wrong in assuming the Time Gremlins had already fled -- they were waiting.

All of a sudden, Daggith and John were surrounded by "monks" in hoods with spears -- high-tech spears with flashing lights and some hideous liquid dripping off the points. They used poison that instantly aged its victims by decades.

"Confound it!" John shouted, ready to start punching. But the spears were already inches from his body, coming from every direction. John couldn't move without getting stabbed. "We're surrounded," he said. He glanced at Daggith as they both stood back-to-back.

"Just do what they say," Daggith said through gritted teeth. He put his hands up, and John did the same.

They were marched into the spaceship. John had a firm, serious look on his face, his big square jaw trembling. His muscles flexed with every step as though it took all of his effort to not start throwing punches. He didn't like surrendering.

The "brig" on this ship was just a living quarter, but the inhabitant was gone (or dead -- Time Gremlins executed their own for even minor infractions of shipboard rules). John and Daggith were shoved in there and abandoned.

They had no way of knowing that Audrey was aware. One of her maids had followed them through the Moor, and saw the kidnapping occur. She had hurried back to the White manor to tell Audrey, intending that Audrey would alert her father and the town's authorities. They would retrieve the blacksmith and the mysterious visitor from the monks.

"Come now, he is the man I love," Audrey said. She put on her walking boots. "Surely I can rescue him."

"You?" asked her maid, who followed after Audrey thinking she would surely not go through with it. Once she saw how many monks there were, and how strange their spears were, she would lose her appetite for battle.

That, however, was not Audrey's way.

She'd been sneaking in and out of her father's house for a long time, and she knew very well how to do it. She was confident she could do it at the monastery as well. She was flummoxed when she eventually saw it -- it looked like no monastery she had ever seen -- but she wasn't going to give up.

Feelings had started bubbling up within her the moment she first saw John. She had been barely eighteen then -- just about to be kind of old for an unmarried woman in this village. Her first intended husband had died of dysentery though, a fact that was well-known in the village, so it was not regarded as her fault that she was still unmarried.

But it was still a problem.

From the moment she saw John, she wanted him. He had been big and bulging, precisely like all the men her father looked down on; he worked with his hands, and he made a wage -- her father didn't approve of any of those things. He was swaggerous, smart, witty, courageous and strong. She daydreamed about being in his arms. She didn't know what they would feel like -- no muscular man had ever held her, and she was not allowed to touch men who weren't in her family. She could only assume he would feel like a horse, which she knew well how to ride; he'd be firm and warm and soft and she'd want to bury herself in his mane.

She felt like she knew his touch even if she didn't.

Inside the ship, John was eager to escape and resume his courtship. But first, he was going to fuck Daggith again.

This whole experience with the stranger had proven more exciting than he thought it would. He loved being able to blow his wad anytime he wanted, so he didn't need to handle himself or get his friends to circlejerk.

His broad strapping muscles all flexed at once as he pounded into Daggith's ass. This was only his second time fucking a man in the ass, but he already felt like an expert, like he had done this a million times.

Daggith gladly accepted every inch. This time he lay on his back with his feet in the air. It was a more difficult position than doggystyle, but more rewarding, because it meant Daggith could grope and massage those massive pecs which loomed in front of his face. John's eyes were closed as he moaned and bucked, holding Daggith's feet in place. His nipples were hard beneath Daggith's grip.

He pounded in, cock throbbing against Daggith's prostate. He knew better how to make it feel good for Daggith too, so he fucked him hard, making sure to aim each thrust at that pleasurable spot (Daggith's prostate). That made him cry out and moan.

John moaned too. He kept it subdued at first, so he wouldn't attract attention, then realized he had nothing to keep from anyone here. These monks -- hopefully -- would be leaving soon. He wasn't going to care what they thought about anything.

So he fucked with abandon.

At last, he was done, and cum spilled into Daggith's ass. He shot great wads of it, more and more with each thrust of his hips. He didn't stop fucking, he kept going, turning his cumload into a big frothy mess that spilled out and onto the ground.

"Ah, goddam, thanks..." Daggith said with a sigh and flirty giggle. Again, he didn't understand why John's smile disappeared and he shot him a dirty look -- then Daggith realized he had blasphemed again. He blushed and murmured, "Sorry."

They got up and put their clothes back on. Daggith went to the door to the room and tried it again, just to check (they had never verified it was locked). But it was firmly shut and locked.

They had no way of knowing that Audrey and her maid had already snuck into the rather curious monastery. They wore the robes they had found near the door (which Audrey's maid had managed to pick -- Time Gremlins kept the door secure with software but they didn't consider physical access with a lockpick to be a real threat), so they blended in amongst the strange men.

Audrey found a key in her robe as well. She assumed it was a key to the front door to the monastery, since it was being kept up there.

"Audrey! They got you too!" John's voice rang out when they passed by his room.

Audrey stopped and looked at him. "John! There you are!"

"I... Audrey, uh... Miss White... I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met-"

Daggith sighed. He didn't want to interrupt John declaring his love for Audrey, but he wanted to escape too. He hissed through the little window in the door at the maid -- John and Audrey spoke too, their faces taking up most of the windowspace, but they left enough for Daggith to see the maid.

"Hey, you don't have a key, do you?"

"And I have felt intense emotions for you from the moment I first saw you. You were so witty and smart," John said. "You are smarter than anyone I know."

"Oh, John..." Audrey enjoyed hearing nice words. She rarely got to talk to men outside of her household. But she wanted to get out of this creepy place too. She glanced at Daggith. "I do have a key, here." She handed it to her maid, who dropped it. It clattered noisily to the ground.

"I am relieved your father will allow us to court," John said.

"Yes, I am relieved as well. You are the man I want to be with," she said. "I too have felt feelings for you, since even before I recognized what those feelings were-" She snarled at her maid who interrupted her trying to get the key in the lock. Audrey had to take a step back to give her access. "I don't even care what my father thinks. You and I will be wed!"

"Oh... Miss White, are you proposing marriage? A woman can't do that," John said with a wry smile on his face.

She blushed. "I didn't mean that. We will be wed... when it is appropriate, after you have proposed marriage following a suitable engagement which can not begin until we... court." Her voice trailed off and her smile vanished because she hadn't realized how long and involved that process would be. There was still plenty of opportunities for her father, someone else or fate itself to ruin it.

The door opened, and they all sighed with relief. John and Daggith stepped into the hallway. John was relieved that Audrey didn't seem to notice the room smelled like sex -- the maid definitely did, but she didn't say anything. She just wrinkled her nose and checked out Daggith as though she hadn't really taken him in yet.

"Let's go-"

"Stop them!" A Time Gremlin appeared at one end of the hall.

The foursome fled down the corridor away from him, past a bevy of living quarters that appeared to be uninhabited at the moment. An alarm sounded.

But there was a window there. It was high, too high for anyone to reach unless they climbed on John's shoulders. So that was what they did. John first picked up the maid because she had a lockpicking kit that could open the window easily enough. She toppled out and landed with a groan in the mud -- it was high enough she would have been injured if not for the mud.

She was followed by Audrey, and then Daggith.

But then what? This had all happened so quick none of them had quite done the math. Once John was left inside the spaceship, there was no way for him to get out, no way to climb to the window and no one to lift him up.


"My darling... Go!" he called out. "I can not escape, they will have me!"

"No! I'm not leaving without you!" Audrey looked at Daggith. "I'm rescuing him. Pick me up." She didn't wait for Daggith to agree, she just climbed onto his shoulders to get back in the window.

"Wait!" Daggith said. "We can't... You can't pick him up, Audrey! You weigh like a hundred pounds!"

It was preposterous. Daggith held onto her feet as though she could simply reach in there and pull the blacksmith out. Obviously that wouldn't happen. He was more likely to rip her arms out of the sockets than be successfully lifted like that.

The Time Gremlins approached with their spears at the ready. John grabbed Audrey's hands.

Daggith was a time-traveling hero who used science to explain things. He believed very strongly in science. But he was unable to come up with any scientific explanation for what happened. Given the angle, even a strong man would struggle to pick up a small man in this situation -- Audrey had no leverage. She could barely lock fingertips with John.

But they did lock fingertips, and she pulled, and somehow, it worked.

John climbed. That was the closest thing to a real explanation Daggith was ever able to come up with. Maybe there was some gravity fluctuation within the ship that explained it. John put his feet on the wall and climbed, using Audrey for support.

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