Tales of the Talisman Chapter 1
WARNING: If it is illegal for you to be reading these stories or you find them disgusting or immoral, please refrain from reading further. Must be 18+ to read! Any characters, places, or people depicted in this story is entirely in the fantasy and imagination of the writer and in no way reflects his/her personal morals or beliefs when relating to relationships between minors and adults. Any people, places, or actions depicted in this story that reflect real life events or situations is entirely by accident or coincidence.
Also, please donate to Nifty to keep the magic happening. Please feel free to let me know what you think and maybe any suggestions you might have for future installments.
Chapter One
Over the last millennia I have worn many faces and answered to many names. My original birth was in the Grand Duchy of Moscow in the year 1290. I was christened Daniil Sergeyovich Krukov, Danya to my parents and friends. My first life was a fairly normal one, I suppose, until the age of 15. It was at that tender age when I fatefully met a shriveled up old man struggling to pull a cart of potatoes coming up the road from Kiev. I watched as the old man's cart rolled into soft mud and got stuck. He used all the strength he possessed to pull it free, but to no avail. Being taught by my parents to always respect the elders, I walked over and offered my assistance. I pulled off my shoes, stepped in the mud behind the wagon and counted to three...."Odin...dva...tri!" The old man pulled and I pushed and the wagon came free. I was washing my feet of the mud in a nearby horse trough when the old man limped over and asked if I would accompany him to the market. I was a kind and naïve child so I acquiesced.
"What are you called, child" he asked me.
"Most call me Danya, sir" I answered, "what may I call you, sir?"
"Many call me koldun, however the given name of this current vessel is Vladimir Popescu, you may call me `Dedushka Vlad'" he said.
"Danya...Danya..." he said, savoring the texture of my name, "for coming to a grizzled old stranger's aid, I wish to bestow upon you a great gift."
"Oh no, Dedushka, I could not accept payment for helping you, my parents would be livid" I quickly expounded.
"Your refusal demonstrates your worth all the more, I insist my son, just a trinket from an old Dedushka" he said, pulling a small wooden box from his pocket. The box was a masterpiece of woodwork, it appeared to be made of several types of wood joined together. The carving was so well fitted that one would not know it to be a box unless shown by the owner. He slid the top open and inside were no less than six silver necklaces, each with some kind of talisman attached. Handing it to me, the Dedushka said "this is a yakor' dushi, put it around your neck, Danya, it may only be removed at the time of `vozrozhdeniye'".
At the time, I thought his words to simply be mad ravings of a demented old man, nevertheless I accepted his token and thanked him for his kindness. I put the chain around my neck and felt a tingling heat pass throughout my body culminating in the talisman feeling hot as fire against my chest over my heart for a brief moment. Startled by the feeling I reached down to pull the talisman away from my skin, but it reacted as a magnet to steel. I could only pull the talisman up a centimeter or so then it would snap back in place again. Although it appeared to be made of silver, the talisman now had a sheen of bright blue.
The bent and decrepit old fellow just tilted his head and looked at me through his one good eye with a half-smile. I helped the old man to the market and helped him set up his stand, When I turned to him to say goodbye, he had pulled up his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face and I saw he also had a talisman, the sheen on his was dark gray approaching black. I left him to continue on my errand but when I turned around and looked back, Dedushka Vlad and the potato cart were nowhere to be seen. I ran back to see if he was trying to pull the cart to a better location but there was no sign of him as far as the eye could see. I asked the merchant in the space next to where I had helped the old man setup what happened to the old man. He said he never saw any old man, only me walking down the road. Shaken, I briskly walked toward home.
Over the days that followed, I was kept busy helping my family with the farm work and such the memory started fading. As the weeks and months passed into years it was all but forgotten. Years passed. I became a man, married, had children, then grandchildren. I was growing weary; my body was worn out and I felt that soon my time would expire. Over the last few years the blue of my talisman had begun to fade to gray. My wife had already passed on and I was brought to stay with one of my sons and his family to spend my last days. One night, about a month after moving there, the talisman turned black and I passed away. Everything faded to black. It was a state not unlike a dreamless sleep. The darkness was very short lived. In the morning my son found my cold dead body lying on the mat where I laid down the night before. He sat beside the body; tears ran down his face dripping onto the blanket covering the body. My son started to prepare my body for burial. When he spied the necklace and talisman, he had not seen before, he removed it, deciding it would be a reminder of me for his infant son Alexei. When Mishka, my son, slipped the necklace around Alexei's neck, I once again felt the tingling feeling all through my body, only this time when I opened my eyes I was staring up, not at my son, but my father. As the yakor' dushi pressed into my/my grandson's chest, we fused into one.
We were, at once, Danya and Alexei. I still retained all my memories and gained the infinitesimally small amount of memories of a six-month-old boy as well. In time, his body became mostly mine, although some traits are native to the body. But I would not find out this fact until much later.
Later that evening I watched from my `mother's' arms as my `father' lowered my old body into the grave. Weeping, he hammered the wooden orthodox cross with my name into the soft soil.
I was glad in a way that I had started out as an infant because it took a long time to get used to being Alexei after being Daniil for so many years. Many of my baby days I lay and contemplated the talisman, finally thinking I understood why the old man had called it `yakor' dushi' – `soul anchor'. It seemed that the device held one's spirit on this plane of existence. It could only be removed when the `vessel', as Vlad called it, has ceased to live. Apparently, when place on another living person it released the soul into the new body. In my case this had been an infant, but what would have happened if, for instance, my son had put the necklace on himself I wondered. Would my soul chase his out of the body? Another thing I noticed about the necklace was that as long as the bearer was healthy and could see the blue sheen, it seemed to have the ability to make itself invisible to others. After my new father put the necklace on me, he forgot about it and never seemed to see it again.
My `parents' thought it amazing when I began to speak at around 14 months of age, although to me, it was a torturously lengthy wait while my vocal cords and motor skills developed. When I was a year and a half old, they marveled at how I never shut up. And so, it went, my progress was seemingly phenomenal. I played at learning my letters when I was five, which was the earliest I dared show such knowledge. When I had lessons with the other children my teachers always said I was the smartest in the class, they simply couldn't know I had an 86-year head start on the others. All went well until sometime before my twelfth year occupying this body.
As the changes began to come upon me, the wispy hairs above the lip and the thin moustache at the top of my budding sex organ, I began to have feelings that were alien to me. In my previous life I had cherished my time with girls as a teen, loved my wife as a married man. I had loved all aspects of women, the curves of their bodies, the fullness of the breasts, the moistness of a ripe vagina. This vessel did not share those affectations. I found myself springing to life when I saw the penises of my friends as we would swim in the river. I couldn't get enough glances at their tight muscular asses. This body wished to do to these boys what my previous vessel had done with women. My pubescent brain was suddenly an organic box of contradictions. My spirit wanted to continue the way it always had, but my physiology was having none of it.
And that is how, one summer evening when I was newly 13 years of age, I found myself gripping the waist of my best friend Anatoly as I hammered my small cock in and out of his ass by the river. I wanted so badly to hate what I was doing. I wanted to apologize and go find a young girlfriend to fuck, but simultaneously, I yearned, no, had an absolute base hunger to plow Anatoly's ass so deep that my dick became a new organ inside him. My body won out as per usual, and in less than ten minutes I was spewing my watery cum into Anatoly's gaping ass. I pulled out of his spasming ass, it was dripping my fresh load, Anatoly wasted no time in spinning me around and with a minimal amount of spit he shoved all of his nine precious centimeters into me. My mind was expecting to be sickened by this act. My body, however, reacted by pumping blood into my spent penis once again making it rise to slap my stomach. Anatoly brutally slammed into my sore asshole repeatedly, then becoming stiff as a board, he shoved his huy as far into my ass as he could, unleashing his torrent of equally watery cum into me. He pulled out and sat on the ground beside me. During his build-up and orgasm, I had been beating the living daylights out of my small cock and I turned to him and shot a second load on his face, which he wiped up with a finger and shoved into his mouth. I picked up the bit on his forehead and did the same as his hand ran up the back of my thigh collecting the deposit that had dripped down. At some point, I realized this may have been the greatest, most intense sexual feelings in all my 96 years. I resigned myself to further exploring whatever this was I had become.
As I grew older, I learned to hide my predilection and searched for ways to identify others who shared my tastes. At 17, I left my homeland to attend university in the Kingdom of France at the University of Paris. I had learned from eavesdropping on traders that in France there seemed to be many men who had no qualms about laying with another man. That information was all I needed to know, I made plans and set off for Paris.
I joined a caravan of travelers all headed to destinations west.
On the second day of our journey I found another young man walking in step beside me. He was dark-haired, brown eyed, his skin darkened by the sun. He appeared to be of similar age to myself. When he noticed that he had captured my attention, he told me, in heavily accented Russian, that his name was Rudolfo Chochesku and that he was Wallachian, I didn't know what that meant at the time so I smiled politely. I told him my name, Alexei Krukov, and shook his hand. He seemed to hold on longer than most men I'd met on the trail and he had a disarming habit of holding eye contact with the target of his conversation.
That night the temperature dropped a great deal and Rudolfo offered to share his blankets with me. We decided to sleep in a hollowed out area under a tree that was several meters away from the rest of the group. I lay my blankets down for use as the bedding and we used both his on top as our cover.
I woke in the night to Rudolfo shivering before I even noticed that I too was cold and shivering. Rudolfo was lying awake, so when I moved he said to me: "We would be warmer if we would rid ourselves of this clothing and sleep close together. The warmth from our bodies will heat the blankets. I have slept many times this way outside with my brothers."
I had never traveled so I believed he must know more than I about such matters...however..."I am afraid to offend you" I said.
"You can not offend me, as I told you, I slept nude many times with my brothers, it is only to preserve heat" he said.
"But...when I am with other men...undressed...I have unnatural desires..." I trailed in a whisper.
"Ahhh...then we shall really be warm" he said " I have desires as well."
We sat up and surveyed the group, listening intently to hear if any were not making the sounds of deep sleep. Hearing nothing, we stood and quickly stripped off our clothes. The moon was waning, nearly new so there was very little incriminating illumination. I really couldn't see him, nor him I. We rapidly lay back down, rolling our clothes and using them as pillows. As he scooted toward me, I could feel the hair on his chest against my back, which started my rise. When he put his arm across my chest and caressed my nipple, I could smell his scent. I lay there with my cock already rock hard. He made his last movement bringing our lower bodies together and I could feel his coin purse pressed against my ass and the stem of his cock running from mid cheek to the small of my back. I don't know how thick it was, only that when I reached back to feel it, it was thicker than mine. I lifted my upper leg and slid the beast between my thighs.
He was dribbling thin, slick pre-cum on my thigh. I wiped it up with my fingers and spread it around my hole. I pointed his dick at my hole and slicked the skin back and forth a couple of times and he burped me out even more fresh lube. I heard the crack of a twig in the forest and stopped everything trying to be as quiet as possible. Squinting my eyes, I searched the near darkness for any sign of a person moving in the trees. By the stream I could just make out a raccoon at the edge of the water. I was satisfied that was my noise so I pressed the head of Rudolfo's cock against my hole and began willing the little bastard to open up for him. The head popped inside my ring of muscle, but he only got about 3 or 4 centimeters before the pre-cum lube wore out. I whispered for him to use spit. He shook his head no, and reached into his travel sack and pulled out a vial of salve. He pulled out and coated his dick with the concoction and I lined him back up. When he pushed this time, it slid in as if by magic, not sure it wasn't some potion, actually.
He began his pumping motion but it was doing nothing for me so far. I started moving my hips and changing position until I had him dragging across my special spot every time he plunged his cock into me. I involuntarily made a little moan and he stopped and listened, throbbing inside me. Before he continued, he clamped his big hand across my mouth to keep me silent. He quickly learned where the spot was I had directed his dick to and gradually applied more pressure to it on each stroke. The breath shooting out my nose began to be loud. He picked up speed, fast and furious. Just a few minutes of this and I tried to warn him but he still had my mouth clamped shut. I exploded covering both our stomachs. Only a few jabs after I came, he sucked in a breath and went stiff, his cock felt even thicker than before as it started spasming, shooting his thick cum deep in my bowels. He stayed inside me and we fell asleep laying on our sides, his arm hugging me tight and his cock plugging my shithole.
Nothing much of consequence happened on the remainder of the journey. Rudolfo and I parted ways, his destination was Bohemia, but he swore to see me again if possible.
After a grueling weeks-long journey, I arrived in Paris. It was not what I expected. The year was 1394 and by Royal Edict the Jews had been expelled from France. On the way to the city, we saw one after another wagon of people with their belongings leaving the country. It was quite heart wrenching.
At the Montagne Sainte-Geneviève I had my entrance interview, conducted in Latin, and was admitted to the university. I was assigned a very small garret room to be shared with three roommates. It was little more that two sets of stacked beds and some ragged desks at which to do our schoolwork. The three others in my room were all local Frenchmen and felt superior to me since I was foreign. I spent my time at the university studying productively in spite of myself.
As I entered my second year of higher education, I was growing weary of looking for those Frenchmen with the twisted morals and thought about leaving. Until, that is, I met Monsieur Ricard du Poit. Ricard was a newly minted instructor, a Jesuit with an oath of chastity. Ricard, however, felt that the chastity oath applied only to the fact that priests are not allowed to marry. Relief by other means was perfectly fine in his estimation. I went to receive my room assignment for the year and the clerk told me that, unfortunately, there was no space left at the Sorbonne. I was devastated. Fortunately for me, my soon to be friend, the lecherous Monsieur du Poit overheard the conversation and followed me as I walked away, head down.
"Monsieur?...." he said, waiting for my name.
"Kurkov" I said, looking up into beautiful eyes the color of the sky after a spring rain.
"Monsieur Kurkov, I overheard your dilemma and I would like to propose some assistance to you" he said. "My teacher's quarters are not overly large but I have more than enough room for a second person. If you would consider it, I would allow you to stay with me" he said, sneaking glances at the visible protrusion in the front of my tight student's tunic.
"Monsieur, that would be fabulous, if it will not put you out" I gushed.
Reaching out with his left hand he gently took hold of my shoulder, "Why, monsieur, I insist. Come with me."
We entered his apartment, about the same size as a student room, yet this room would have only two occupants. I noticed almost immediately that there was only one bed.
"Oh, monsieur, I could not burden you so, you have only the one bed" I said, knowing full well what he had in mind.
"No, no, it will be quite all right. As you can see it is a double bed and well large enough for the two of us", he assured me.
"Very well" I said "let me go and collect my things. I'll be back shortly."
The first night I played games with the monsieur. I acted pure as the driven snow. I made believe that I didn't understand his overtures toward me. When we went to bed I kept on my tunic and slept near the edge. The second night he seemed to be resigned to the fact that he had misjudged me and that this would be a long year for him, sleeping next to a delicious young morsel like me and not being able to touch.
I waited until he fell asleep then ever so gently, I began pulling up his tunic, careful to make sure he was not stirring. I took quite some time, stopping and starting every time I would hear a change in his breathing. Finally, I had the blasted thing up around his waist. What awaited me there was stupendous. The French clergyman was carrying something resembling a German sausage between his legs. Laying there unangered, the sausage was at least 15 centimeters. When I began to move the foreskin off the head, it reared up to no less than 21 centimeters. The thickness was a bit scary to me as my fingers would only barely touch if I squeezed it hard. I don't know how he was not awake at this point but he had still not stirred. I turned around on the bed and took the bell end of the sausage into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it several times and poking the hard-pointed tip of my tongue into the piss hole. There was now definite movement in the bed, Ricard's hand grasped my head and forced it downward. Alas, there was only so much I could do, as practiced as I was in the art of fellatio the beast just wouldn't clear the entrance to my throat.
"Un moment" he said quietly, as he arose and walked to rummage in a cabinet across the room. I took the opportunity to shed the suddenly uncomfortable tunic. Ricard came back with a small container.
"Goose grease" he intimated with a salacious grin, and made a circular motion with his index finger I took to mean he wanted me to turn over. He sat the container down and removed his tunic, draping it across a chair. He got on the bed at the foot and started pulling my legs apart with my feet. He continued until his knees were against my thighs holding them apart. He pulled me to my knees and reached for the container of goose grease, sitting the cold glass on my back so he would have both hands free. With his left hand he held my cheeks apart and with the right he scooped the goose grease and applied it to my puckering opening. He sat the grease back on the table, rubbed the greasy fingers on his large dick and, with no forewarning, rammed it all the way in to his pubes. I buried my scream into the pillow but I'm sure it was still pretty loud. He remained stock still allowing my doorway to adjust. My hole squeezed and squeezed trying to eject the invader to no avail. After what seemed like a very long time, my hole started to relax. Ricard promptly smacked his hand on my ass, causing the hole to clamp again. When it released the second time, he took to fucking me in earnest. To say "pounded" would be an understatement, he destroyed my rectum. I think he rearranged my organs. Somewhere in the midst of the hole ruining he was performing on me, my poor sphincter tried valiantly to clamp once again as I made a massive wet spot on the bed beneath me. I think I may have blacked out briefly.
When I woke in the morning he was gone to his class. On the table he left me a croissant and a link of sausage. How ironic.
Although I enjoyed being tormented by Ricard's giant occasionally, I grew afraid it would cause me permanent harm in the long term, so after my second year of study I decided to move on. Friends at the university had told me of the hot blooded men in Spain. The thought of finding another dark man like my Rudolfo intrigued me, so I set off for Spain. I traveled for days and had just crossed into the Spanish kingdom when I started feeling very unwell. A fever overtook me and I sought refuge at an orphanage I passed on the road. The nuns took me in and gave me a bed and cared for me. Lying in bed the next morning I happened to look down for the first time in ages and saw that the talisman was very dark grey, nearing black. I called for the nuns and asked for paper and a quill to write my last wishes.
I, Alexei Kurkov, being of sound mind, wish to give my only possession of value to the youngest male orphan in Santa Maria Orphanage upon my death. The necklace and talisman is to be taken from my body and placed around the neck of the child as soon as I am gone. If my wishes are not followed, I shall haunt this place the remainder of eternity. Signed, Alexei Mikhailovich Kurkov.
With the completion of this act I once again fell into the dreamless sleep. My last thought was that I could hardly wait to see what would happen next.
Lambodara 09/21/2019