THE BURNT IDENTITY (giantess, birth, futa)

Story by Bec De Corbin

THE BURNT IDENTITY

By Bec De Corbin

The conjugal chambers were fiercely hot and sultry—they HAD to be.

Lord Smultnov had stripped off his boots, breeches and undergarments and stood in the heat shimmer still in his long tunic and great cloak. He preferred crimson over scarlet and to the giantesses of his Keeping and beyond, he was a handsome and desirable thing, despite his aura as a sacred figure.

Yes, he thought, I’m getting too old to do this. But there is no age at which this kind of thing is really good for a giant with any regard.

He undid the tunic, baring his middle and his crotch. Under it, he wore a shorter tunic that reached to his belly.

With these garments out of the way, his black loins were vulnerable, but ready.

His rooms were neat, especially this, his robing room.There were few furnishings here and the tiles walls were decoration enough. No windows. Outside, it was threatening to rain and he wanted no drafts. There was a small vent in the ceiling with a twisted flue that defeated outside cold and wet.

But Smultnov was still uncomfortable.

Noises from the bedchamber up the steps.

Overlapping voices. Insults. Some sweet talk. More insults.

A great bristle-furred dog the size of a lion sat in a semi-corner of the octagonal room. Its horrid mouth glowed fiery red with each pant. Dull light flickered in its nostrils and smoke rose from its lolling tongue.

He brought his fists down on the stone table.

Spooked, the dog trotted from the room, trailing fumes. It would return.

He was a prophet, a shaman, a religious leader. Inwardly,socially and spiritually, he was better than this.

Still, there was the will of the gods to consider.

His upper body was regally dressed, but he was preparing todo something basic and arguably…debased.

Still in the prime of life, he should have felt the arousalstrongly by now.

Breeding, ordinarily, was nothing he had reservations about; he had twenty-two healthy heirs by fire giantess brides which the templehad given him. Five of them by last count. And he had certain mistresses. The temple could allow such excesses if the clan was served by more strong children to ensure the next generation would be on a solid footing.

Damn, he thought. Too many eras of peace. The giants are not what we should be. We all feel it, all the way down to the lesser giants.How did this happen? It’s as if…

“Must you do this? And under our own roof, yet!”

His concentration broken by the unexpected voice, Smultnov felt his ardor cool.

More utterly foul insults from the bedchamber.

Yuutnig, the wisest of his wives, though not the most winsome shook her head. “Great Surt’s Fires! Muzzle its mouth, can’t you?!”

More sweet talk, pleas to come to bed.

Sneering, Yuutnig pointed in the direction of thebed chamber. “BOTH, better yet. Its upper body hardly matters.”

Preferring orange and purple over red, Yuutnig looked like her mate of many centuries. Heavyset and stocky, her figure was one rounded by child bearingand hearty feasting. Enormous black breasts hung to her waist, juddering when she walked. Bluer in complexion than he, her large, round forehead seemed to advertise she had a good brain in it. Her hair, once so brightly russet was streaked with ash gray.

“SHE can’t save us!” Smultnov didn’t turn, not wanting to show off his naked lower body even to his best wife. “The omens and visions sayt he child CAN. And will. I am a giant of faith. I must believe what was revealed. I agree it’s questionable. But I won’t keep it a secret, Yuutnig. I won’t! There was a prophecy working in all this. The wiser giants willunderstand this.”

“We are benumbed in a

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