Sam, Dictatorship

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“The screaming does get a bit annoying,” Sam decided, walking through the streets of Three Hills, which were full of it.

“Just a bit,” Henry agreed. “But you probably won’t be able to hear it inside the castle.”

“Maybe. I don’t mind it much, but even I can only have fun so many hours in the day.”

All around them he could hear it, people following his orders. He’d outlawed clothing of any kind for anyone, ever. And he’d also outlawed consent—anyone who consented to sex was flogged and castrated, then raped for six days straight, as a deterrent. All boys were raped at a certain age as a birthday present, and then again after that, multiple times a day, by anyone who wanted their holes, which was everyone, thanks to the horny magic Sam had infused the world with.

The revolution had been bumpy, but it was for the best. Sam entered the big square, where the screaming was mostly in the background. “Are they all here?” he asked.


“Good.” Sam strode forward, addressed the holdouts. “You’re all here because you disobeyed the Sorcerer King’s orders. Your sons are all old enough to be raped but they’re still virgins.”

“You can’t do this to us!” Some idiot screamed.

“Yes, I can. You’ll all rape your sons right now and induct them into this new culture, and nobody has to be punished.”

Stupid gasps and screaming went through the square. Sam just waited. “Well?” he asked, his magic rippling outwards. “Get started.”

The screaming started up again, and Sam walked through the crowd, giving an encouraging stab or slap to get people started. “Come on, Daddy,” a little boy was saying. “Stop being a fucking loser. Just do it.”

Sam wandered over that way. “I’m sorry, Callum,” a guy was saying. “I don’t have…”

“A choice, I know. And I’m not consenting. But you need to rape me and Cooper so we can go home.”

Sam smirked. “Smart boy,” he said, enjoying the yelp that got. “Henry, take this one, I want him.”

“What…” the dad said. “You…”

“Can’t?” Sam asked, yanking the boy to his feet. “Sure I can. Don’t worry, he won’t be treated well.”

“Can…” Callum swallowed. “Can you take my brother too, sir?”

There was another boy crying on the ground. Sam snorted. “Sure. Your father’s clearly useless. Henry, give the crier to the dragons, they always need new holes.”

“Wait, that’s not…”

Sam smacked Callum, infusing his hand with heat so that it seared his skin, making him scream as he cried and fell to the ground. “Let’s get you started on your new role,” he said, flipping him over and finding his hole.

The screaming just got louder. Sam smiled and added to it. It was good to be king.



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