Page 29 of Palaces and other Prisons
He was pretty sure that amongst the guys he’d gone to school with, those who were the biggest dickheads never paused to wonder if they were. So maybe he wasn’t. He flipped through the pages of the book looking for the pictures. There were more detailed pictures of anatomy, much like the science books at school. He remembered everybody laughing and being awkward when they did reproduction and looked at the pictures of maleand female anatomy, all labeled and colored to make it easy to tell which part was which. In real life, it wasn’t that easy.
He found the pictures of the eggs again and then kept going. On the next page, there were fewer of them, but inside each one was a limbed being. He wanted to be able to read the text on the opposite page, instead of just relying on the pictures. On the next page, there was one egg, and it was hatching. Had the artist just not bothered to draw the rest?
The librarian returned with that sly smile and dropped another book on the table. This one was fancy with a dark red cover that had been well handled. The soldier laughed.
Dawson glanced at him. “What kind of trouble am I in?”
If Ul could speak English, the soldier must be getting close, given that he had been with Dawson every single day.
Dawson picked up the book, hoping it was full of pictures. “Thanks.”
The soldier waited until the librarian shuffled away. “Book about pleasure…satyr wrote it.”
“A book about pleasure?” Dawson opened the book to a random page and was greeted with a very graphic depiction of what he assumed was a female ogre enjoying a reverse cowgirl with another ogre. “Oh.”
It wasthatkind of book.
The soldier stepped forward. “Not ogre…find krakke pages.”
So it seemed the soldier had been listening to the gossip and figured Dawson needed all the help he could get. His cheeks burned, and he wanted to get up and walk out…but the soldier would just follow.
He did not need everyone knowing his business.
It wasn’t only his business, as it concerned their king.
“I can’t read, so you find them.” He pushed the book toward the soldier. There he was admitting that he needed help...and he was a little curious about what the satyr had written and drawn.
The soldier went to the front of the book, scanned what Dawson assumed was the index, and then flipped to the correct section.
He’d watched porn and had his favorite things, but that had not prepared him for the things those tentacles were doing to the human man. Was that the krakke’s entire hand in his ass? Not that it was a bony hand like his, but still…
He flicked to the next page, which involved what appeared to be less of a tentacle job and more of a sucker job, while another one disappeared what appeared to be quite deeply into the man’s ass, and a third was in his mouth.
His dick twitched as though finding these pictures more interesting than educational. Because that’s why he was looking, right? Just to find out more about hooking up with a krakke?
Was this too much more?
The next two pages were far more standard, with a 69 and the human also enjoying a reverse cowgirl, and a tentacle down the throat. The satyr author must have a favorite position.
His dick throbbed as though this was an instruction manual he should definitely work through. He turned the page filled with an uncomfortable arousal and curiosity.
This page was different. The human and the krakke lay side-by-side, but the krakke had pink freckles, and the human man was fucking the opening the krakke’s cock poked out of. There was more text on this page, and it felt like something he should know. “What does it say?”
The soldier read it softly in his own language. He took a moment, then grabbed the biology book and turned back to the picture of eggs in the watery cave. “Warning, chance of eggs.”
“Right.” Dawson nodded. Then he shook his head. “How many eggs?”
The human soldier held up both his hands and shrugged.
Approximately ten eggs. Dawson turned the pages of the biology book to the one that showed the one hatching baby. “Did the artist forget to draw the others?”
The soldier stared at him. “No. Many eggs.” He held up one finger. “Baby…or none.”
“What? What happens to them?”
The soldier sighed, his forehead furrowed. “Words. Eggs eat eggs?”
Eggs eat eggs? What the fuck did that mean? But even as he repeated it to himself, the horrible realization swelled in his gut.
