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Godfrey was a good, God-fearing man. He prayed daily, oftentimes more than once, and oversaw his parishioners with proper care. His subjects were true in return and oftentimes did their best, even though the coarseness of the land sometimes drove them to drink, or a bad harvest caused demons to foist hysteria onto them. Godfrey dealt with all of this in turn, whether it be by the occasional harsh word or lash, and had only ever used the pyre twice. He was a good, just man, and prized simplicity above all else.
That was until the knights-templar had taken him on a tour of their barracks. All was normal at first, the proper rites enjoyed, until they came to the dungeon. The men had mentioned it prior, but Godfrey had not truly believed it until he saw the scene with his own eyes.
Two dozen young men, at least, all lay on the ground, their necks chained to the wall at an uncomfortable angle. Each creature was nude, their legs immediately spreading upon the entrance of the knights. They murmured plaintively, softly, as Godfrey stared.
“Incubi,” one of the templars had said, looking at him unblinkingly. “They produce alphas only, and the children grow to be far stronger than a mere man. We have been breeding them for some time, as commanded by the king himself.”
Godfrey put a hand to his chest. He closed his eyes and murmured a quick prayer before being led back upstairs.
*
The ride home was made more trying by what he had seen, and he greeted his parishioners with something like unease.
It went without saying that his first thought was Briar. His sweet little ward; abandoned to the streets as a mere babe. He’d grown up beautiful and obedient, as all omegas ought to be. But, as soon as they’d realised his true nature, they’d locked him in the tallest tower of the church and bade no man enter, lest his body become tempted, and his soul endangered. Only Godfrey had the key, and he kept it on a chain hidden beneath his robes.
“The boy has been asking for you,” Sister Isolde murmured, just as Godfrey entered the church.
“What for?” Godfrey said immediately. He set his cloak to one side with practiced calm. He pretended at ignorance whenever Briar cried at the door for him. It would do the boy no good, after all, to think he had access to Godfrey whenever he pleased, and it would do the sisters no good likewise to imagine he played favourites.
“I do not know,” Sister Isolde said. “Only that he has been crying every night and day since you left.”
Godfrey huffed, unamused by the sister’s tone. They thought him harsh, he knew, for his treatment of Briar. Once the little incubus had the privilege of looking outside, but no longer. That simply meant other men could look in, which had resulted in countless troubles.
“I will see him directly,” Godfrey said, not bothering to glimpse the look of smug satisfaction on Isolde’s face. His fists curled as he raised his robe to make the trip upstairs, which proved more difficult with each year. He was forty-seven now, and no longer as sprightly as he’d once been, especially not when climbing the tower.
When he finally made it to the top, it was with a great deal of relief, and his knees almost gave out on him with shock. He clutched at stone and gasped raggedly, recalling desperately that it was God who, surely, wanted Briar away from the townsfolk. This was a good, just thing, and his knees would just have to bear the brunt of it.
“Briar?” Godfrey called. He tapped deliberately on the wood and, hearing no reply, entered immediately.
What he saw did not surprise him in the least. Briar, curled up asleep in bed in the early afternoon, with the holy book clutched tightly to his chest. That he’d been crying was evident by the redness of his eyelids and the particular way he was lying, as if he’d had to hold onto the scripture for dear life. Godfrey sighed and sat on a bench at the far side of the room, next to Briar’s small collection of books. All deliberations on scripture, of course, and none of the vile nonsense omegas were enjoying at the bookstore.
“Briar,” Godfrey said. He spoke slowly, deliberately, and loudly enough to wake the incubus up. “I have a present for you.”
The incubus kicked a little as he woke. A pale, soft as milk leg appeared uncovered, and Godfrey quickly looked away with a gulp.
“You haven’t changed. You’re still in your nightclothes,” Godfrey said. “Laziness is the first step on the devil’s path.”
Briar pouted and sat up. Immediately Godfrey was met by those soft, doleful eyes, and the curls that framed his doll-like face. His cheeks were still red from crying, and his lip trembled almost imperceptibly.
“I know,” Briar said immediately, submissive and sad. “But… I have already memorised the scripture, and I have read each book at least a dozen times. I… forgive me, but without your visits, master, I have precious little else to do.” All this was said in a prim, proper accent, just as Godfrey had taught. Incubi were abnormally resistant to learning, so the alphabet and even speaking had been a severe test for them both.
“Close your eyes,” Godfrey said. He procured the little doll from his pocket and laid it on Briar’s palms. “Open, dear boy.” Upon seeing the incubus’ pleasure, he said, “Quiet reflection in prayer would serve you far better than sleep. Some would insist I keep this place barren and free of earthly pleasures, but… you deserve a treat every so often, I suppose.”
Briar stared up at him, wetting his lips ever so slightly. He clutched the doll tightly in his hands, absentmindedly running his fingers through her hair. “Thank you, master.” Reverently, he placed the doll beside the few others Godfrey had brought him, each depicting a templar, saint, or hero of the church. “Did you have a pleasant trip?”
Godfrey gulped, thinking back to the incubi all strung up. The sheer strength of their pheromones, their open legs, their constant whining, had been far too much. It had been like a farm, but one where men might come and enjoy great pleasures for the benefit of the community, which surely god would understand. It was all done for the safety of king and country, after all, and if a little enjoyment was to be found in the act, then that was a just reward. Taking a breath, he looked unthinkingly down at Briar’s nightclothes, the almost whorish way the boy had parted his legs, and his eyes rolled back in sheer tingling want.
Briar knew not to speak without being spoken to. He looked away at the first opportunity and stared meekly at the floor as Godfrey stole occasional glances at his body, his pouting lips, and finally at the merest suggestion of flesh around the ankle.
“I saw other incubi,” Godfrey said, “living far worse than you.”
“Other incubi?” Briar said, unthinkingly inching closer to Godfrey.
“Yes,” Godfrey said, eyes raking down Briar’s nightclothes. “All serving the holy cause. Not tucked up and protected in bed, like you.” They had not known what else to do with Briar. Sister Isolde had once suggested they drown the babe in the river, but now Briar sat shielded in his tower, not wanting for food or drink.
“How might I serve?” Briar asked, guileless as ever. “I would do anything to leave this tower.”
Godfrey closed his eyes and prayed, but God chose to impart another vision; that of himself rutting Briar on the bed, breeding him, and at last putting a suckling child into his waiting arms. Briar would not understand it, Godfrey knew. All matters of sex, mating, and breeding had been kept from him, and they’d started putting herbal suppressants in his water as soon as he’d been old enough to endure the foul taste. One could never be too careful with an incubus, after all.
“What do they do?” Briar said again. “I could do it too, master. Please.”
Godfrey’s control vanished. The templars needed more babies; even they acknowledged this. And he, Godfrey, had the ability to ensure that happened. King and country needed him. If, perhaps, he felt some pleasure from the act, that was entirely warranted, owing to his careful rearing of his own little incubus; now very much able to give back to him.
“Lie down, Briar,” Godfrey murmured. His eyes were still closed, but he knew other parts of his body were very much active. “Pull up your nightclothes for me, all the way to your hips.”
The creaking of the bed and shifting of the covers betrayed the omega’s submission, even though the last command provoked a gasp.
When Godfrey opened his eyes, he thought himself in heaven. All he could see was Briar’s milky thighs, spread ever so slightly as to reveal his cocklet and, most importantly, untouched omega pussy; small, virginial, and very capable of taking cock.
“Master… I…” Briar murmured, still lying down on the bed. “This… this is….”
Godfrey got to his feet and shushed him, just as omega pheromones hit him full force. Desperate pleas to be mounted, to be bred, pervaded all around him as Godfrey himself crawled onto the bed. His eyes rolled back as he came to position himself, not truly believing in that moment what he was about to do.
“Master?” Briar murmured, staring up at him with dolefully. “What’s happening?”
Godfrey groaned as he hastily unbuttoned his robe. When his cock sprang out, far bigger than anything Briar had seen, the omega actually shrilled a little, rapidly inching further back onto the bed.
“Stay still,” Godfrey intoned. He positioned himself on top of Briar. As his own much bigger body eclipsed the little incubus underneath, he bit his lip, recalling how he’d taught the boy his letters. But there was nothing so bad in that. Their local teacher, in fact, married one of his little omega students when that particular boy came of age; nothing peculiar in it. Perfectly natural for an educator, a friend, to be the one to breed an omega, and probably much better for their gentle nerves.
“What’s going on?” Briar murmured. He did not fight, lying instead like the well-trained incubus he was. “You told me not to touch myself there, master. I… I was whipped, do you recall?”
Godfrey did remember. The omega had whined and shrieked as the lashes tore his back apart; quick to be mended by his devilish ancestry, however.
“Justly so,” Godfrey murmured, thrusting deliberately to tease against the omega’s pussy, groaning in absolute ecstasy as he nearly slipped in. “It is a grave sin for an omega to touch themselves. It is expressly forbidden in the scripture, as you recall. But, for a man to use you for the sake of breeding, that is indeed permitted. And greatly encouraged, in fact.”
The head of his cock pushed through, and it was as if heaven itself had been breached. Godfrey gasped, winded, and thrust almost without his own consent into that warm, welcoming omega pussy, which clung to him desperately.
Briar did not move for a few moments. His silence was admirable, Godfrey thought, until at last his little incubus began squirming, gasping, and crying out underneath him. The mournful tears were entirely expected, however. Briar had always been quick to cry.
“Master!” Briar shrilled, even after a fairly gentle thrust. “What is this?! What are you doing to me?!” His body moved desperately underneath Godfrey, though his protest was meek. “You… you can’t touch me there, master!”
“I learned a great deal on my trip,” Godfrey said, pulling out and then, cruelly, thrusting back in without a moment’s pause, “about how best to tame your kind.”
Briar shrilled and closed his eyes, tears already spilling. He did not fight or beat his hands against Godfrey as some omegas might’ve. He was far too docile and tame for that. He merely wept, sobbed, and occasionally shrieked as Godfrey thrust hard inside him.
Such bliss had been lost to him until now. He groaned in ecstasy, at a loss for what to say, what to do, other than to keep thrusting as deep as he could. He had long denied himself the pleasures of the flesh, but there was no need to when he did it to procreate; when Briar’s stomach swelled with seed, as he birthed an alpha capable of joining the templar ranks, the congregation would understand.
“My dear,” Godfrey murmured, kissing Briar’s brow. “Be grateful. As you… as you pleasure me, you are pleasing God greatly.”
Briar’s sweet lashes fluttered a little at that. His whine cut off, and he looked at Godfrey with doleful, sad bewilderment. “…God?” he murmured softly. “But… you… you always said…”
“Don’t touch yourself there, sweetheart, I know,” Godfrey said. He sniffed at Briar’s hair, worshipping each strand as he took in the scent of undiluted rose. His thrusts were slow now, deep, pressing against Briar’s womb with solemn duty. “But another man, an alpha, may touch you as he likes. You are an omega. And what does God demand of all omegas?”
“Obedience,” Briar answered automatically. He angled his head away, lips shuddering in what Godfrey knew was disgust.
“You will give me alphas,” Godfrey murmured, closing his eyes in bliss as he teased oblivion. “Many children.”
“Children?!” Briar shrieked. He pushed against Godfrey lightly, ever so sweetly, like a butterfly batting its wing at a spider.
Godfrey slapped him across the face. Never, not in all his years, had Briar ever disobeyed him. He’d stayed in the tower all his life and had long since stopped asking to be allowed out. But, in that moment, it having been revealed that he would carry children to fight against demonic forces, he fought back. Godfrey slapped him again.
Briar closed his eyes. He kept his little hands at his side, lips trembling, knowing not to reach up and shield himself. That would only lead to yet more punishment.
“Shush,” Godfrey said, lying back on top of him. “Your nature fights against it, but you’ll spend the rest of your life up here, breeding.” He thrust forward again and felt his whole body quake; the doors of paradise had been breached, and its walls sweetly clutched around him, guiding him onward. He let out a groan of his own and kissed Briar once on the neck.
“I would rather die,” Briar murmured.
Godfrey glimpsed him with scarcely concealed disgust. Briar’s demonic heritage was made plain in the light, from the unnatural red of his eyes to his pure crimson skin, unlike a man’s natural flush.
“You will not,” Godfrey groaned, shuddering as his thrusting stuttered to a halt. “From now on, you will no longer be free to move around this room.” He gasped, mouth hovering over Briar’s neck. “You will be chained. You will be bred. You will spread your legs only to take me and birth our children. And, most important of all, you will obey.”
He bit Briar’s neck hard, eyes rolling back as he finally released his precious seed into Briar’s womb. God would smile on it, he was sure; countless warriors destroying demonic walls, conquering them, and breeding anew. Perhaps the demon king himself screamed as one of his own was taken. It was that rumbling, searing, terrified shriek, that carried him through his release, which he belatedly realised was Briar’s.
*
When Sister Isolde interrupted them later, concerned after Godfrey had not come back down, the whole village must’ve heard her scream. Blood, now dried, had spread across the sheets, and Briar lay docile as a lamb as Godfrey rutted again, and again, to ensure the best chance for their brood. When he said only that he was doing as the templars did, that their babes would kill countless demons, she only cried.