The Dwarven Miner Delves the Vein of His Most Tender Passion E-Book

Gaylord Fancypants

• Herausgeber: Eroticatorium
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

How could a love develop between a dwarf and a human? Both of them male, one clean and twinkish, the other burly and hairy and rough-edged, these two could never be together... Or could they?! Tervy the Piemonger and Hackle Hammerswing will have to overcome cruelty, harsh insults and even the magically animated dead in order to express the love that pounds in their tender hearts!

Leseprobe

Contents

Title Page copy

Chapter One - His Meat Pies Taste So Savory

Chapter Two - This Curtain Has Never Covered Such a Sight

Chapter Three - A Punch Arises in an Instant

Chapter Four - Rescue Is the Truest Mark of Love

Chapter Five - Death Would Be a Fitting End

Chapter Six - Today Is Not a Day for Sorrow

Gaylord Fancypants Endmatter copy

The Dwarven Miner Delves the Vein of His Most Tender Passion: An MM Erom Fantasy Novelette

Gaylord Fancypants

Copyright 2018

To keep up-to-date on Gaylord Fancypants' MM fantasy erotica and his fancy pants, check out the mailing list! (http://eepurl.com/drHK4D)

All characters depicted in sexual situations in this publication are eighteen years of age or older.

These stories are about fictional consenting adults engaging in taboo and controversial sexual acts. Nobody involved in the creation of this ebook, including authors, editors and models, support immoral or illegal acts in real life. Cover models are not intended to illustrate specific people and the content does not refer to models' actual acts, identity, history, beliefs or behavior. No characters depicted in this ebook are intended to represent real people.

CHAPTER ONE

His Meat Pies Taste So Savory

"Maybe you should bend over when you sell those, Tervy! You'd sell more!"

"Yeah, but bend over the other way, so you have to reach behind yourself-"

"It's okay to grab your ankles, Tervy, and you may want something to bite on besides a meat pie, something more solid-!"

The dwarves in line laughed, bellies flabbing up and down, beards shaking. Tervy towered over them -- at more than six feet tall, he was much taller than any dwarf -- but blushed just the same. He felt smaller than them because he was so skinny by comparison, and he knew he came across as small to dwarven eyes. He frowned and whistled until he had quiet.

The assembled dwarves jostled in line, wearing nothing, most of them wearing nothing but a pair of threadbare shorts. Their skin was pale but covered in gray-and-brown hair and smudged with black soot. They wore only the shorts because they were miners on break, and they didn't want to wear their ragged, dirty and overly hot clothes up here on the surface.

"Shake that ass, Tervy! Spread them cheeks out some, so it looks bigger!"

They guffawed and slapped their bellies. Their well-muscled arms shook. Like all dwarves, they were thick and stout, barrel-chested; some of these dwarves were outright fat, but as miners, they all had muscular bodies like statues of Gardellian gods.

"Hey," Tervy said, quietly at first, then more loudly. He whistled and clapped his hands. "Hey! Hey! You nasty brutes can't talk like that." His voice was a tenuous reedy warble. He wished he had a deep, confident voice like these dwarves. "That's not okay. You have to be nice if you want my meat pie. I don't like crudity, and you're in public -- there's women right over there!" His voice got louder, but also higher-pitched. He knew that made him seem less manly to the dwarves (who had uniformly baritone voices). That was unfortunate because Tervy was already not necessarily treated as a "real man"; it was also fortunate, however, because it meant they treated him as a sort of girl, at least when he reminded them by talking like that.

"Sorry, sir," said one of the dwarves, Grimstone. He looked down at his feet. "I was just playin'."

"Yeah, sorry, dear," said Tuprock with a faint snicker, joined by the others.

"Okay, well, I accept your apology. But please do not act like such dirty dunbottoms," Tervy said. He added, "And you should all act nicer to your wives, I know how you shout at them-"

"You do not understand dwarven marriages, human," said Grimstone. The other dwarves all grumbled along with him. "My wife values my frankness."

Tervy frowned and shook his head like he didn't believe it. He didn't believe it. But he knew from past experiences that this was an argument he wasn't about to win. Dwarves were always acid-tongued stoutly-barreled misogynists, and that's just the way they were.

"I just think you should say nice things once in a while. It wouldn't hurt to tell her you think she's pretty," Tervy said as he handed over a meat pie to the first miner in line, Grimstone. He paid for it and frowned.

"You don't know that. It might hurt-"

"She'd probably smack me with her frying pan. Not a cool one either."

"I won't tell her she's pretty because I promised to never lie to her," said Rockpit, guffawing -- he was so dirty Tervy kicked him out of line to wash first -- Tervy just didn't think it was sanitary for a dwarf to eat a meat pie by hand if that hand was covered in soot and who-even-knew what else. Copper mining resulted in a lot of useless chemical byproducts that Tervy was pretty sure were toxic.

"You're one to talk, Rockpit, you look like an ogre's hemorrhoid," Tervy said, making the other dwarves all laugh with him. "I assumed your wife was blind." Tervy smiled too as the next dwarf, Felspar, approached, and the sweat glistened on his neck. He was dirtier than the rest, covered head to toe in black soot. He smiled, showing off his white teeth. Tervy frowned. "What did I say, Feldspar? Go clean up. I don't even want to say what you look like."

Feldspar blushed and scowled as he walked away from Tervy's little cart. He went to the washing station near the mine entrance. There, he dropped the shorts that were the only clothing he wore right now. The mine operators had placed a little free-standing curtain right there to give the miners privacy when they bathed, but Tervy had never seen a single one us it. Dwarves did not need, nor desire, privacy, at least not from other dwarves.

So he tried not to stare as Feldspar bared his thick cock and rinsed himself off in the running water. He seemed to think he should be able to get away with just rinsing, and not using soap, but then he glanced at Tervy, made eye contact and used soap. He didn't want to finish and then be told to come back and use soap.

"You take a firm hand with them," said an unfamiliar dwarven voice.

Tervy looked away from Feldspar's naked body and was floored by the arrival of the sexiest dwarf he had ever seen. His name was Hackle Hammerswing, and Tervy didn't know him because he was new here. He wore britches unlike the shorts the other dwarves wore; his were skin-tight, revealing a tantalizing bulge that was cradled by the well-worn fabric.

Hackle was more muscular than any of the dwarves here. He looked like one of those professional discus-throwers from Gothomikus, Tervy thought, except his entire body was well-muscled, not just his shoulders. He was as broad as an ax, with hairy thighs each as thick as Tervy's whole body.

"Yes, I..." Tervy blushed. He had never seen such a handsome dwarf. He had a square jaw and a long tangled mane of black hair. He was less stout than most of the other dwarves, a fact that was made more impressive by the fact that Hackle was older than them -- he was well into his middle age, with strands of gray in his beard and a whiteish shock on his head.

But he was so sexy Tervy quaked as he handed over the meat pie and took money from him. He didn't even hear Hackle's words until he repeated his question a few times.

"Is there real meat in this? Cuz at my last mine, the pie seller there, she put sawdust in instead," Hackle said.

"No, it's real meat. Lamb," Tervy said, his voice ethereal and lilting because he blushed at Hackle's gaze. He cleared his throat. "You must have just arrived?"

"Yes. I am from Mount Trapdash," he said. "I will need a second pie." He turned his head and barked. "Bettina! Come here!"

A pretty young girl dwarf came to him then, scowling like she didn't want to. She rolled her eyes as Hackle paid for a second pie. Then she took it in her hand, sniffed it and wrinkled her nose. "Fine. I'll eat it. But it smells like hot garbage."

"Do not be so ungrateful, you haggish young wench," Hackle said with a snort. He turned back to Tervy and accepted the change he was due.

But Tervy exploded in anger -- he knew well what Bettina was: a young bride, probably ordered from afar and purchased through a wife-broker. They haunted these sorts of workplaces, where there weren't enough women and those women who did come through were mostly prostitutes and thieves. That was the only reason he could think of a beautiful young lady like Bettina would be with an older man she obviously didn't think very much of.

"Oh, she should be ungrateful to you for purchasing her like a sac of turnips?"

"What? Sir, I-" Hackle protested.

Bettina's eyes opened wide too. She looked around as though to see if there was some other woman Tervy might be talking about.

"I've seen a lot of miners like you come through here, marrying some girl you bought, like a slave, and then wondering why your marriage doesn't turn out to be a bed of roses! Maybe if you bathed once in awhile, you'd be able to get a woman you didn't pay for! Maybe-"

"How dare you?!" Hackle shouted and punched his own palm, making a loud smacking sound. "You lily-crested Geistesschwache! She is not my bride, she is my daughter!"

"... What?" Tervy was so worked up his mind whirred trying to process that. Finally he looked at Bettina, who nodded and bit her lip. Tervy blushed. "Oh. I, uh... I see."

"My wife is dead, you funknut! How dare you! You weak-armed wastrel. Wie kannst du es wagen, so mit mir zu sprechen?-"

"I'm sorry, I-"