Message-ID: <29686asstr$986271002@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <news@dosa.alt.net> X-Original-Path: usenet From: "Frank McCoy" <mccoyf@millcomm.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <9abd59$d94$0@dosa.alt.net> Reply-To: mccoyf@millcomm.com Subject: {ASSM} NEW "Raising Unicorns" (ff, incest, cons, best) X-Original-Subject: :*NEW*: UNICORN.TXT "Raising Unicorns" (ff, incest, cons, best) Date: Tue, 3 Apr 2001 00:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/29686> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, gill-bates Raising unicorns An Erotic Story Sometimes raising unicorns can be a sad thing. Others, it's a great delight. Like so many methods of making a living though, it's not something that you can pick to do ... no matter how well-suited to the job you might be, or how well you might like the thought of doing such things. You have to be born into it. Like me and my four sisters were. Daddy was born the son of a unicorn-raiser, so his daughters naturally grew up to raise unicorns. That's about the *only* way to get into the "business" if you can call it that. Like most people out here in the Western Woods, most of what we eat, drink, and wear is what we raise ourselves. No bakery to buy bread from, clothier to buy what we wear from, no grocer to buy vegetables from. We plant our own garden, raise our own sheep, chickens, and pigs (but not cows like some do). A goat provides extra milk, and in most things we make our own clothing. It's a simple life, and not always easy ... but we don't have to worry about many things that city-folks do either. However, (also like most people around here) some things we do better than others. Mike the smith, for example, makes simple things of metal that we need ... pins, hinges, even pans. He doesn't do it *ALL* the time, like blacksmiths in larger towns do; but he can still shoe the occasional horse that the King's Men ride through on. Genny Matron makes better clothes than almost any other seamstress in town; so if we need something FANCY to wear, or extra-sturdy, then it's not considered uppity to trade something to her for decent duds. Like I say, almost every person in town usually has something extra that they do, make, or have to trade ... from Danny who uses part of rather enormous house his parents left him as a tavern/inn (What I understand now would be called more a "bed and breakfast") to Simple Joe, who braids whips even while watching sheep. Us? We raise unicorns, as I said. I know ... I know. Some people don't even think unicorns exist. Others think strange things about them. Over the past hundred years or so, my family has acquired about a dozen books about unicorns ... only one of which looks to have been written by somebody who actually raised unicorns. It's amazing the folklore and just plain garbage that people "know" about unicorns that just isn't so. Along with the books about unicorns, we (unlike many families out here) have quite an extensive library of other books as well. We can afford it. There's a whole room dedicated to reading ... "The library" we call it, after those institutions we've heard about in cities, where they actually have thousands of books that almost anybody can read ... if you can imagine such riches. 1 Yes, we're well-off. The price of unicorn-horn, either ground or especially whole, is astronomical. Of course, that makes us targets too, as this story will tell. The house is big and fortified; and Daddy pays yearly to have the spell connecting our bell to the Earl's house renewed ... pays dearly, in fact. On the other hand, he has no choice, either. It's part of our contract with the Earl, and through him, The King. Like I say, raising unicorns can be a sad thing. It's been over ten years since the last raid on our house that lost us our mother; but we (at least I) will never forget it. The retribution upon those the Earl's men caught torturing Mom to reveal the cache (everybody just ASSUMES we have some kind of cache of horn and powdered horn somewhere) kept any prospective robbers away for years now. I was in the woods when they came (thank Goodness) but I can still hear the screams they made under the Earl's justice. It went on for days; and still gives me shudders. Even that poor boy, who had just joined the gang, and knew almost nothing about it. The law was the law. I understand that to keep the men alive longer, the Earl himself drew water from the tap we use to get water from the cistern. If the men had only realized the water they were drinking was purified by being filtered through a two-foot thick layer of unicorn dust, that would buy the whole kingdom with money left over to put down-payments on all the neighbors .... But nobody ever even suspected. Not even the Earl. Some things are best kept inside the family; as who knows what knowledge like that would do? Today was something less nasty; but no less dangerous (though the poor sods didn't realize it) to those attempting it. Luckily, me and my two older sisters make sweeps of the forest, looking for just such things, every week or so. (Well, it TAKES a while to cover several thousand acres of forest with just three people.) If we hadn't, that poor girl would never have made it. This occasion was essentially just like so many earlier ones. The poor guys *thought* they knew how to catch a unicorn. Just stake out a virgin, and a unicorn would waltze right into their trap. Kill the beast, butcher it, grab the girl, and go. I feel sorry for such men. Actually, that's all we can do. Teaching them the TRUTH about unicorns would bring such a rush of poachers that the race hereabouts would be extinct in a year or two at most. No, we can't let that knowledge spread ... especially as it's so *obvious* once you're told. I admire whatever distant relative of my figured it out. I presume it was a girl. Like always, it was the buzzards that drew me. Damn. Why do men have to STINK so much when they die? Not one, not two (the commonest number) not three or even four men, but FIVE lay scattered around the clearing. All dead, of course. Only one of them had ever even seen the unicorn; and it was obviously the last thing he ever saw before the animal's horn took him through the chest. Poor idiot. 2 Damn. Do the greed-crazed fools always think that unicorns are idiots, with no sense of smell? Even *I* could smell THESE men ... from a mile downwind, and I'm talking when they were alive and healthy? Healthy? Well, maybe not. Let's stick with alive. I don't think a one of the five had taken a bath in two weeks, and if that, it was an accident. More than that, did they think that an animal that roams freely in the forest wouldn't smell the absolute STINK of fear the poor child they had staked out in the clearing had? Did they not think an animal as smart as a unicorn wouldn't check to see WHY the girl was frightened? Obviously not. It took me the rest of the day to get the poor girl home. Thankfully the Earl's men took care of the bodies when the tintinnabulation of the bell brought them clattering up to the house ready for anything up to a minor war. I personally wished them luck in finding booty on the bodies. *I* certainly wasn't going to touch them. Especially not when I had a unicorn to catch in the next week. The girl we kept in one of the rooms provided in our house. According to law, she was ours until she delivered, like any slave. And a slave-catcher would ensure she was returned to us, if she tried to escape. Poor girl. Alone, pregnant, and probably her whole family dead, as most likely the four men were her father and brothers. Though the type of man that would treat his own little girl like that ... If it wasn't for Daddy as an example of others, I think I could get to hate men. Not having any men around except for our father, might have added to that attitude. For a while, when younger, I thought that I didn't NEED men. My sisters were quite good enough lovers for anybody. Only sisters don't give you babies, no matter HOW good lovers they are. So, while I grew up I kept an eye on the boys in town as they developed into men ... and finally settled on Danny, the smith's boy. He was smart, not bad looking, and definitely interested. (Well ... Quite a few boys in town were interested in us girls. A unicorn-girl was quite a catch.) Most important, he was smart enough to wait until I was ready. Tomorrow would be my last time. <Sigh.> To pass the time that night, after getting the poor kid in the safe-room her meals, showing her the outhouse, and detailing her duties starting the next day, (Why me, Oh Sonnoya?) I settled down under a sconce and did some reading ... about unicorns, of course. I had several giggles about the crazy wording and ideas that some men had about catching unicorns. No wonder we found some poor girl staked out like Jenny (I found out her name) every year or two. "If ye woode catche the Yunicorne, hafe a yung firgin who has not been tuched" (Geesh! This writer thought this was how people spoke? Talk about "touched"! This guy was touched in the head.) I think he was trying to fake the book being "olde" and being written long ago, to make it seem more authentic. <Giggle.> 3 Whatever. It seems the guy thought (like those poor saps who staked out Jenny?) that if you just put a virgin girl who never had sex out in the woods, then a unicorn would come up and lay his head in her lap. Then you could come out and kill it. What garbage. Such a mixture of half-truths and outright junk. Unlike this other one ... Written by a man who obviously *knew*. "To attract a unicorn ... a fractious beast indeed ... you must have a young maiden, one untouched by *men*, who is ready to conceive, and have her *go alone* into woods where unicorns reside. The male will approach her ...." I shut the book. I knew the rest; as did my sisters. Humanity and Unicorns had worked out a method of mutual survival. We were as important to the unicorn, as it was to our way of life. Like the contract with the Earl and King, it was to our mutual benefit. I went to sleep, dreaming about my beautiful brindled stallion. One more time. <Sigh.> The next day we checked on the girl. Jenny was still in shock about what had happened. Still, she had to learn her duties ... mainly weeding in the garden. If she didn't help raise the food, then she wouldn't eat. At least for now. Since she would be here for nine months at a minimum; and more likely ten to twelve (depending on when a viable egg was dropped) it behooved her to learn to raise the meals she would eat. Anywhere from nine to a year or so as a slave ... and then she would be released; far better off actually than she would have been with her family. As said, unicorn girls are in great demand ... and she would have a dowry such as her poor family could never have supplied. A small price, some might think. (A VERY horrid thought occurred to me ... What if the recent increase in such things was because some men KNEW this ... and couldn't provide for their daughter/sister. It was well-known that some farms not that far away had failed so badly after the last drought, that the men lost their entire livelihood. What a sacrifice to make! I firmly put *THAT* horrible idea out of my head. The men were greedy poaching robbers, who tied up their own little girl without caring what horrible thing happened to her, as long as they caught a unicorn. They *had* to be.) Whatever. I took a bath in the cistern-water usually reserved only for drinking. I needed purity today. This time, only Sam would follow me. This was my last time, and this time I would share it with none of my sisters. Getting ready, gathering a lunch, packing extra food and water in case things took longer than usual, wearing the freshly- made (but skimpy) clothes that Genny had provided ("untouched by men") made me realize I had to move fast, if I would get to my planned spot before noon. The same spot as my first time. Memories *are* important, you know. Both humans and unicorns do remember. I gathered myself up from my wool- gathering, told Jenny, who was looking at the garden with almost fear, "To eat, you work. Starving will not bring your brothers back," and left. "Quidquid praecipies, esto brevis." 4 The "Clang" of the garden-gate swinging shut behind me added punctuation to my words. I didn't look back to see if the girl was following my homily. If she didn't now, she would later when hunger drove her to it. It would be months yet before we had to ensure she had a proper diet. No girl yet had elected to starve. It was with a mixture of joy and sadness that I walked towards the woods this time; passing familiar sights of late spring and early summer. The apple trees were past blooming; and not yet really budding with apples. The conifers were silent and dark underneath. The scree where lumberjacks had emptied one side of a hill still spilled detritus down towards the creek below. It would take another five to ten years for the scar to heal enough to be green again. All-in-all though, a great summer day, with long days, short nights, and the smell of green growing things in the air. Yes, definitely a good day for starting something new to growing. It *was* past noon, when I reached the meadow. Knowing unicorn preferences for more privacy however, I sought the more enclosed clearing on one side, where a creek splashed happily by, and gurgled like a cheerful babe as it vanished farther down into the meadow below. Samantha would know where to find me, when the proper time came. I spread out the blanket. (Might as well be comfortable.) Put the food and water nearby, and settled down to read one of the few precious volumes we had of love and romance. After today, I would have to learn a lot about such things. I wanted Danny to be happy with me as a wife ... and me, him. Today (or possibly tonight) was my last time. It took longer this time than usual, for the stallion to find me. I wondered if it was because he was the one who had taken Jenny, and thus was already sated. I hoped not. More likely, other unicorns had recognized his smell upon me, and had thus left me for the older animal. It was like he just appeared; his dappled gray hide blending in with the forest like he was part of it. As usual, the sight of such a magnificent animal almost took my breath away. A unicorn is *NOT* just a horse with a horn you know. It's a separate creature, that just cannot breed with them. In fact (something that only unicorn breeders like us know) all unicorns are male. The great beast approached me, sniffed me, and once satisfied stroked my body with its horn. A tingle ran through my loins, as I felt my body react in the way only a woman's body can to the live touch of a unicorn-horn. For some reason, only the live beast will bring this response in a woman, while all other virtues of the horn remain intact with the animal's death. Two, then three strokes; and then the brindled animal was rubbing against me more like a cat begging for attention, than a horse or hooved creature. I felt my body respond, both involuntarily, and with conscious heat on my part. In the back of my mind, I hoped that Jenny had enjoyed *her* coupling, rather than being frightened by it. I always had ... but then, I hadn't been frightened, tied up, or blindfolded; though I knew the blindfold must have been gone before she was taken. 5 I felt myself being nudged by the nose of my magnificent lover. How the great beast kept the horn from poking me and drawing blood, I'll never know. By this time, I was so hot and ready, I must have smelled like a bitch in heat ... or is that mare in heat? I was definitely ready. So was the unicorn. With a sudden thrust, I was filled. Truly filled; as the unicorn's penis grew from that the size of a large man (10 or 12 inches) to a truly appalling size inside me. Luckily, unicorns don't thrust in and out like I've seen dogs do (and have heard that men do) but just locked his body to mine while we mated. A warm feeling spread from my loins to my belly, my arms, legs, and chest, and finally reached my brain as I suddenly started exploding in orgasm again and again; my vagina and womb milking the embedded member inside it for the precious seed stored there. A unicorn, unlike most other animals, does not squirt semen inside a woman. SHE milks it out of the bulb he plants inside her, as the virtue of his penis makes her orgasm almost continuously for up to several hours, depending on his age, and her stamina. It's an incredible experience; and one that could bring a woman back time after time, if allowed. But once bred, all unicorns lose interest in a woman. Similarly, if *any* other male has entered the woman previously, no unicorn will show interest. In fact, they avoid all humans except girls who haven't had sex with anybody but them. That includes other unicorns. And ... once bred ... a woman is almost certain to conceive. For unicorn sperm does not die in three days, three weeks, or even three years; drawing sustenance from the female body until I viable egg drops and is fertilized. Only pregnancy causes death to the competing sperm. This being one of the ways that unicorns ensure the continuation of their species. I woke from incredible orgasmic bliss to soreness between my legs. Not since the first time with the great stallion, had I been that sore. The horny old thing had done me up brown. The second thing I noticed (after blue skies and forest around me) was the crumpled gray heap about ten feet away. My sister had done her job. Yes, my lover was dead, except for the life growing inside me, and the sons he had fathered on me and my sister for the last ten years. Now that he was dead, other unicorns ... his sons ... might approach me ... when I was fertile again. But that phase of my life was over now. My sister would carry on. Once this foal was born and released into the forest, I would start raising girls of my own. For you see, unicorn-horn, especially ground horn, has the ability to purify water. And that water has almost the same potency to ensure male virility as the horn itself does. But such virility has a price. The children are all girls. So does the unicorn in yet another way ensure the survival of both species. 6 Like I said, sometimes raising unicorns can be a sad thing. Looking down at the body of the great beast, was such a sad thing; but entirely necessary. Unicorns do not live as long as men; seldom past 12 years. My gorgeous lover was an old unicorn; and would soon have died. WHERE unicorns go when they die, nobody has ever figured out. One person even suggested in the books I read, that they ate each other, to prevent humans from finding them. In support, he pointed out that unicorns have teeth far more suited to eating meat than grass. An interesting idea. For sure they can be killers; as the dead poachers gave good evidence of. I was glad that the poison on the dart was both fast and painless; having experienced a touch of it myself when young. It just deadens nerves until death occurs. Luckily, I had just lost feeling in an arm for about an hour from the slight scratch ... unlike the large dose that brought the stallion down. But raising unicorns can also be a joyous thing. In nine, ten, or even eleven or twelve months I would give birth to our son, and watch the young stallion stagger off into the woods; growing stronger and more steady with each step. It's an experience that no man will ever know. Tomorrow, I'll go see Danny. Now that the unicorn's sperm is safely locked inside my womb by the plug the animal left, it's safe for me to have sex with a man. And, as I said, a unicorn-girl is greatly prized around these parts. Where else can a man find a woman with *proven* fertility, that he *knows* has never slept with another man ... ever. Besides, a king's ransom in unicorn horn never hurts a gal's chances either. <Sigh.> I'll miss my big lover though. I left the dirty work of butchering to my younger sisters. For some reason, I just didn't feel like helping this time. 7 -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+