Holy Order of the Phoenix

by brazboy   

Every year on the Summer Solstice, all men living in the lands of the Holy Order of the Phoenix who completed their 20th anniversary in the previous year are called for the vetting—when the Masters of the Holy Order select those who will join them in their monasteries, and those who will return to their villages to carry on their lives. When an unimaginable talent appears, however, wouldn’t he be a threat to the great and old families…?

Yars, like all 20-year-olds in the lands beyond the desert, went to the Order of the Phoenix’s novice selection process. He didn’t expect to do all that well, but the people of his village always praised him and so he thought it was worthwhile to try—after all, he was tall, strong, handsome, and had even shown ability with magic despite a lack of past training. This idea, which he started entertaining two years prior when a lad from a neighboring village was selected to become a Mage’s apprentice by the order, became a material plan once his village’s elders all gathered to try to convince him to go to the selection:

“I have seen thousands of young men go, and I have seen which ones come back; you will not come back, my son,” said the oldest woman in his village, in that occasion.

Honestly, Yars was of the same impression: he didn’t like to sound conceited, but he was faster and stronger than the other lads of the tribe; he was better with the sword and the plow, at swimming and dancing, and he even managed to pick up some magic from reading old books that the elders lent him—he could only do small tricks, or so he thought, but still, he learned them by himself, without having any prior instruction! Surely the Order would recognize that and give him a proper education.

And then, there was his bulge—he had heard that the Order measured a man’s whole body, and took a holistic approach to grading their prospective members; but he also knew that they asked the candidates to cum in a bucket and that this test, somehow, provided a measure which was important to them. And, even more so than his magical powers, Yars was confident about his dick, balls and juice. Amongst the many men he had seen in his life—old, young, peasants, merchants, even the odd nobleman—he was by far the largest and best endowed. Even as he examined himself now, he was at least twice the size of any of his mates: 32 centimeters of cock, soft; hard, almost twice as many. His balls were each the size of watermelons, and his three orgasms a day filled well over a bucket, each. His cum was not watery and thin like milk, either; it was thick, fat and sticky, like the purest honey.

Even then, his results surprised him: he got the most attention at the test of the mirror, by making it emit a bright red light when he imbued it with his energy—all Masters got impressed and called him a “once-in-a-generation genius.” Then, in the test of the bucket, he was surprised to see the container accept all of his endless orgasm, but even more so when it emitted the same bright red light and the Knights got about twice as excited as the Masters had been before.

And then, when he was invited to the Red Monastery—the largest of the land—to be evaluated and graded, the committee just couldn’t believe in the final results of their own assessment: according to the regulations, using the standards to be applied to the novices; considering his height, weight, muscles and limbs; several erect and limp measurements of his penis; the volume of the scrotum in different temperatures; the handsomeness of his face from different angles; the size and shape of his ass, inside and out, as well as the characteristics of every other relevant part of the male body, they gave him a historical 99 out of 100! The only point he lost was because he had a beauty spot under his left eye, and even that was hotly debated between the members of the committee.

At last, High-Master Yonsef’s team won: “He should not get 100, because perfection doesn’t exist. That he could even scratch that grade shows the insufficiencies of our vetting system; we have much yet to improve.”

Regardless, Yars was accepted, and his result was historical—the highest of the High-Masters and the grandest of the Gran-Knights came to him with offers of apprenticeship. The great and old families of the inner circle of the Holy Order also moved quickly, disputing who’d get his favoritism. One thing was certain: he’d open a new era and shake the status quo of the Phoenix; maybe the whole order would burn down and be reborn, even stronger—unless something was done about it.

Yars woke up in a dark room, feeling completely different from what he was used to. The last significant memory he had was of dining with the leaders of the 13 great and old families, the 7 Grand-Knights and the 9 High-Masters in a feast in his homage. That had been such a great day! They had given him every dish, showed him every flavor under the sun. He had never been treated so well in his life, and it truly made him feel welcomed and respected in his new prospective home. He only wished he could have shared all that food and wealth with the people back home.

They talked so much of peace, his hosts. Peace, the balance, stability—and yet, the beginning of a new era! They talked more to each other than to him, though; not that this was any surprise, since he was just a novice. He had received offers from all of them, to join their families, to be their apprentice. He had feared the feast would be awkward, because he had not yet managed to choose between their offers, all so kind, all so generous—and yet, it was much the opposite. The venerable men and women were all so happy and close to each other, while being kind and gentle to him.

Now, though, he was in this dark room. The difference between here and the banquet hall was like day and night. Weirder still, his body felt different—he couldn’t quite move it properly, it seemed to have gained weight? Especially his penis and balls? Soon he felt the strangest of sensations: his member was being pulled and pushed, his cockhead—seemingly uncovered by his natural foreskin—was being rubbed against something rigid and cold. Soon, his balls started producing his pre, which flowed up his cock and through his slit. Yars moaned, and then he realized the craziest thing: it almost seemed—well, it was impossible, but certainly it did seem—that his cock had grown fantastically over the night!

Soon, light fell on his body, revealing his monstrous new size: his cock was now a good 6 meters long; each of his centimeters having multiplied by ten! His balls, under his cock in front of him, were larger than cows, the size of small houses! Each one of them moved, trembled, twisted, working to produce ever more cum and precum, feeding the stream that was slowly oozing out of his cock which, he now saw, was contained inside a huge transparent tube, working to stroke and contain his whole length and channel his juices down to an enormous caldron.

Then, Yars tried to stand up, but he couldn’t even move his legs and arms! Looking to the sides, he noticed his muscles had grown completely out of proportion: his arms were the size of the trunks of old centennial trees; his legs, stretched on the size where twice as big around! His limbs were now so hard that his muscles rubbed on other muscles, locking him stationary. His pecs were also so big that they locked each other and his immense arms in place, and his abs were like eight small hills crossing his stomach towards the root of his enormous, ghastly manhood!

Yars started to sob then and there, noticing that he now only really had movement in his fingers, toes, head and neck. Never again would he touch himself, or even dance, or read by himself, unless someone was so kind as to turn the pages as he read—and he feared, in fact, nobody would even talk to him like this, much less slowly turn the pages of books as he read them.

Suddenly, Yars heard voices descending the stairs, coming towards the huge room where his erection was milked, and his balls worked to provide his captors with his juices. Who was coming? Perhaps some people from other Orders, jealous of his talent as the new apprentice of the Order of the Phoenix? Or, maybe, a neighboring lord who feared the Order might become too powerful with his addition to its members? And yet, when he looked up and heard the voices speaking, they seemed to be the same ones that he had heard that night.

“There he is, High-Master Yonsef. We don’t have to tie him because, at his size, he can’t move anymore, much less escape. His only actions from now on will be to eat, breathe, and produce his seed for the order,” said the other man, bowing his head to the team of elders he was leading to see Yars.

Not wanting to believe his ears, Yars started to cry and plea for help.

“Please, Masters, Knights, Lords, please save me! I remember the words of friendship you proffered at the banquet, please save me from this torture! What have I done to deserve such a treatment? I promise to atone for any sins, and to give you anything and everything I have, or even to go away, if you so choose! Please just set me free!” he implored, and sobbed, until High-Master Ambares told one of the servants to go wash his ugly face and silent him. They promptly started moving towards Yars’s head, but getting there—given the hill of muscle, balls and cock that he had become—would take some time.

“No, please no! I will do anything and everything!” he continued begging, after hearing the orders given by the powerful woman. As he continued to cry and beg, his tears started to make it hard for him to see, and his pleading filled the large room where his body laid as it echoed around.

“You are already giving us everything we want, son,” responded old Lord Ugor, the patriarch of one of the great and old families, then pointing to the large caldron of human spunk below, “Your precious, almost impossibly valuable ingredients!” he said spurting a smile.

“I…I will continue to give it to you all! I swear! But I can also be a good assistant, or an apprentice, or even a servant! I am talented, you have seen it! You won’t easily find another like me!” he continued to argue as he struggled to accept his new reality as being nothing more than a source of cum. Like a rubber tree, he was now, and was forever to be, a provider of a single precious liquid commodity.

“To which of us? And what should the other 28 do? See that one rise above us all, gain all the power? That would destroy the order as we know it now, as it has always been. Unlike you yourself, your cum is something we can all share equally amongst us,” explained Gran-Knight Torinlo, although he seemed to gain more from this version of Yars than just his produce—or so it seemed from the erection he was sporting bellow his armor.

“Please, be merciful, oh, great ones! I will even be your cow, but just let me go back to my old size! I can’t even move like this and the constant oozing of cum, it is maddening! Can I even have an orgasm? And yet… I need one so much! How can I live on in perpetual edging like this?” Yars pleads in tears, before the servants of High-Master Ambares finally reach his face and start cleaning it and putting a gag in his mouth, so he could no longer bother the noble ones other than by trying to shout around the gag.

“Innocent and stupid child! What can you offer us all that’s more valuable than your seed as an ingredient for our magic? Your talents? You cannot offer them to all of us! Your absence? You might fall onto other hands, and regardless, it would be far less worthwhile for us to have you disappear than having you as our magical cumcow,” said venerable High-Master Yousef, causing whispers amongst the crowd for his harsh language, while Yars sobbed and wobbled, trying to move his muscles but only managing to tremble in place and increase his seed production for his captors.

The old and venerable nobles went down, inspected Yars body, and took some of his seed. They verified its qualities and powers—which, of course, had already been more than sufficiently attested during the vetting process. Some of them, couldn’t resist but touch Yars’s overgrown muscles, and breathe in the scent of his all-muscular, all-sensual body. Soon, however, they departure, leaving Yars alone—well, not quite. This time came in the servants, to wash him; take away his juices to distribute between the families and the Masters and Knights who might need it for enchantments and potions; to feed him and even, he’d soon find out, to help him to achieve his orgasm by filling his rear.

That day, Yars felt much pleasure, and then shame, and then disgust, and then pleasure once more, and then rage and resignation. Yars was smart, and soon he realized that, unless some great event took place—something to truly shake the Holy Order of the Phoenix—then he’d for the rest of his life be what he had become. A cow for cum; a source of magical ingredients; a fountain of male life energy. And for the first time in his life, he cursed the body and the talents the Gods awarded him; he cursed his past family whose influence couldn’t protect him in the Order; he cursed his ambitions who took them there; and his naivety—and he continued cursing until his mind shut down, overwhelmed, as the servants pierced his ass with their equipment, increasing even more the yield of his godly cock.

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