This morning I received a text message from my dearest co-blogger, Terlet. This message gave me the title of my next post as dictated by yesterday's announcement of our newest challenge, Blog Buddies! so I have written a short story to fit the title he gave me, "Molestros The Monster Rider". Now I need to think up an equally absurd topic for him tomorrow, as it will be his turn to answer the Blog Buddies Challenge! I do hope you enjoy...
The night was quiet except for the breathing of the tentacle beast that served as a trusty mount, and in the mind of Molestros, it was sorely missing the screams of forcibly manhandled children. There was a time that Molestros was known simply as Sullivan the bone carver, but those days ended when he accepted the mighty "Gloves of Inappropriate Fondling" as payment for the carving of a particularly intricate bone whistle. The elf that traded the gloves with him seemed eager to be rid of them, and now it was clear why.
When Sullivan the bone carver slid the gloves onto his calloused hands he was transformed into a man possessed of an insatiable urge to molest children, which quickly earned him the contemptible moniker "Molestros". After being run out of dozens of small villages in the area, many of them nearly leading to his involuntary castration, he decided that he needed to gain a swift and terrifying mount to dissuade his future pursuers.
That decision led him to undertake a dangerous quest to tame the feared swamp tentacle beast using a large quantity of hypnotic drugs which broke the wild will of the creature until it was accepting of a saddle and rider. Now he was considered the most fearsome child molester in the land, eclipsing even Gerald "Stinkfinger" McCallister and "Quelas of the Penetrating Tongue" as most prolific threat to the purity of children.
But despite his near constant stream of youthful victims, Molestros was unable to quench his considerable thirst for them. And his urges stood little chance of ever being satisfied while the most sexually desirable child in the realm remained unfondled. The boy's name was Darrien Toberra, the son of duke Toberra the pure. The entire realm knew the boy would face the threat of every pedophile within range of the duke's hilltop fortress when he was born. There was none who laid eyes on him that could deny his sexiness, and even the most chaste priest had to avert their eyes to suppress their evil desires.
Many had tried to defeat the defenses of the duke's fortress just to be repelled by the high walls and plentiful archer support, but Molestros held an undeniable edge. The tentacles of his fearsome mount could scale any wall with ease, and it's tough hide would protect them from the piercing arrows of many volleys. It was time for him to strike and claim his prize, and he was eager to lay siege as soon as the next dawn broke.
At first light Molestros struck. With the ease of a lubricated member unto an unwilling orifice he penetrated the fortress walls and fell on the vulnerable living quarters of the duke and his son. But unable to define a recognizable entrance to their domicile, and driven by the call of the Gloves of Inappropriate Fondling, Molestros abandoned the tentacle beast and tumbled through a small window, ready to face any challenge. But once he rounded the first corner he saw a room dimly lit with a small fireplace, with a small but luxurious bed at it's center. And in that bed laid a child so perfect, so clean, and so pure, that Molestros was shocked into a tunnel vision of lust, the only object of his desire within the reach of his hungry, unholy gloves.
And there he paced forward silently with outstretched arms, careful not to wake the sweet, sleeping babe, when he saw a glimmer at the periphery of his vision. It was the duke, laying in wait to protect his undeniably sexy spawn. His broadsword split the air, cleaving Molestro's hands at the forearms and sending them tumbling across the floor into the waiting fire. No longer under the control of the gloves, it was Sullivan the bone carver, not Molestros the Monster Rider, that screamed in pain at his newly bloodied stumps. And looking into his welling eyes, duke Toberra the pure saw the change in this man's eyes. It was clear that it was the evil gloves that drove this victim to force himself upon countless children in the realm, and he laid before the duke as a helpless man in dire need of his mercy.
It was this thought that traveled through the mind of the duke as he swung the blade of his broadsword once more, separating Sullivan's head from his body, leaving a quivering mass of redeemed pedophile bathing in the soft light of the fire. And so it ended, with duke Toberra staking the head of the feared Molestros at the gates of his fortress for all to see, and as testament to the will of this father to protect his still very, very sexy young boy from any unwelcome buggering.