Author's Notes: This entry is a response for the prompt made over at the Spn_hardcore meme: kink-mpreg:

"Grabbed by worshipers of the Boy King, Dean is set to be the main attraction in a summoning/consort perfecting ritual. Dean is tied to an altar and given something to drink that sets his body on fire, making him hard, but he isn't allowed to cum until the Boy King lets him so his cock is wrapped in a tight cock ring.

As part of the ritual, every believer gets a turn at fucking Dean - filling him with their cum, slicking his passage so they can plug Dean with larger and larger plugs, to keep all the cum in and to stretch his hole to receive the Boy King's large cock.

Bonus points: (1) Dean still believes Sam will "save" him until Sam becomes an active participant in the ritual; (2) Sam fucks Dean talking dirty and telling Dean how lovely Dean will look heavy with Sam's children."

Warnings! This fic will contain:

kink: bloodplay, kink: bondage, kink: dirtytalk, kink: dub-con, kink: evil!sam, kink: gangbang, kink: mpreg, kink: non-con, kink: sex magic, kink: slave/master, pairing: dean/multiple ofcs, pairing: dean/multiple omcs, pairing: dean/sam, supernatural, top!sam, wincest, bareback, bottom!dean, firsttime.

There may be more warnings added later...but for now, you have been warned!

Chapter One: Taken

Dean had felt like he was being watched, had felt it for quite some time, actually, though he had yet to pinpoint from which direction or by whom. Something had felt off all day really, but Dean was at a loss to figure out what it was. He and Sam had separated to search the area for the "freak of the week" they were hunting and right about now, Dean was starting to get the feeling that that had been a very bad idea. He tried to shrug it off and get the job done, like a.s.a.p., but the feeling kept growing steadily and now he was beginning to have that sinking feeling that something really bad was coming just around the next corner, so to speak…About a split second before everything went to Hell, the presence that he had felt lurking around him, watching him, made itself known finally. Of course, being that he was a Winchester, when the proverbial shit hit the fan, it was a big-ass load…

Dean felt hands suddenly fall on him from all sides, pinning his arms back and feet kicking his legs out from under him. He went down hard to his knees, making his bones rattle and his body screamed in protest. He slammed against his captors, fighting violently but there were too many of them and by the time they had the cloth shoved into his throat and tied in place and the bag pull tight over his head, he knew he was in deep shit.

Dean was still writhing forcefully for the duration of the ride to wherever they were taking him, trying so damn hard to break his bonds, trying to work the cloth from his mouth, to get the bag off his head, anything really to give him a chance to get out of whatever the hell this was in one piece. 'Fat fucking chance of that…' he thought ruefully, but still, he wasn't the type to just give up without a fight and the fact that he couldn't help but worry if something similar had been done to Sammy kept him going.

The vehicle, a truck or a van maybe, lurched to a stop finally and Dean could hear the tell-tale sounds of people climbing out: opening and closing doors, hushed voices, etc…until finally the door to the area he was in was thrown open and the moment Dean felt their hands about to make contact with him, he lashed out with his legs as hard as he could. He heard the startled 'oompf!' and the choked breaths and he knew he'd hit at least one of them. He kept thrashing, trying to get free, but his bid for freedom came crashing to a halt for the moment when he felt his head gripped viscously tight then slammed brutally hard into some unforgiving surface or another two, maybe three times. The hits were hard but just shy of knocking him completely out. They did, however, make him dizzy and wozzy and he had to fight back the bile that was trying to claw its way out of his throat. 'Concussion...fucking great...' the thought blearily swam through his mind briefly before flitting away once again. They were able to easily lift his now limp form out of the vehicle after that and all he could do at that point was groan as the jostling movement made his stomach rebel even harder then before. Dean worked hard within himself to get his wits back enough to track the pain and sickness and desperately tried to contain it and push it down. The blows to the head, though, were making it damn near impossible and before he could stop it, the vomit surged up into his throat and mouth. The cloth shoved in his mouth made it so the vomit had no way to escape but that didn't stop his stomach from surging violently, making the putrid fluids pool and build up until Dean was drowning in his own sickness. Dean's body started seizing as he began internally drowning and finally one of his captors noticed that he wasn't just trying to fight them anymore but that he was maybe dying on them...

"Shit, I think he's choking! Hurry up, man, we gotta get his gag out!" the lead man yelled. The men rushed him down the shaft to the compound, plowing through doors and nearly bowling over other followers as they rushed to get him secured in the room he was to be held in. Once the room was locked up tight, the men pinned Dean down and cut the rope holding the gag in place, ripping the cloth free.

The vomit started pouring out of Dean as he choked and thrashed violently as little by little the fluid was pounded out of him and oxygen leaked back in. He only felt the pounding distantly, still too detached from his body to really feel it, but he thought he'd probably feel it later. When enough of the vomit had been forced out, his body took over,, sucking in the great, heaving lungfuls of air his body was shrieking for which made him choke and retch all the harder. When the heaving roils of sickness finally stopped, Dean lay there in an almost stunned stupid state as he wheezed in the precious oxygen and coughed occasionally making his aching throat even more unhappy with him. Dean curled in on himself as best he could with his bonds still in place as he willed his battered body to settle. Distantly, Dean felt hands on him again and he felt himself being lifted onto some sort of higher, hard surface, the change in altitude making his body tingle with sickness again. Dean groaned as he worked to push the sickness down this time and this time he succeeded to keep it at bay, but he could still feel his body tremble with the mis-firing nerves from the vomiting and the near drowning and his stomach was still roiling violently inside him. Dean lay as still as he could, trying not to piss off his aching head and body anymore than he could help. Dean wished he could just pass out and ride out the sickness but without knowing what his captors had in mind or whether or not Sam was ok, Dean couldn't afford to let himself do that. He lay there in a haze, taking in the sounds of voices and people moving around him without processing any of it too deeply. He was still confused and he still felt sick and those two combined were making staying focused very difficult.

"…hold him still and open his mouth…we must stop his sickness so that he will be fit to perform his part in the ritual…" Dean heard some one say quietly nearby as strong hands pinned him again and forced his mouth open. Dean felt something trickling down his throat and he instantly tried to fight it going down but the hands just held him tighter and forced his jaw shut and pinched his nose until he had no choice but to swallow so he'd be able to breathe. Dean choked again, rasping in harsh breaths as the unpleasant liquid slipped into his stomach. It tasted and smelled of herbs, not all of them particularly good tasting and Dean grimaced when they finally let go of his jaw.

"Tastes like ass…" he mumbled.

"Yes, well, be that as it may, you will thank me when that body of yours stops committing mutiny on you, hmm?" the man said with a soft chuckle.

Dean let his eyes slip open to a squint, his head lolling over slowly in the general direction of the man's voice. From what Dean's bleary eyes could see, the man was a priest of some sort, probably a head priest of whatever his cult or religion was, judging by his demeanor and the way others followed his commands.

"What am I doing here…why did you grab me?" Dean asked hoarsely, his throat burned raw by the acidic bile. He was still really fuzzy but he was quite proud of himself for how coherent he sounded and he had to admit that whatever the man had given him had calmed his stomach and head pretty well.

"You, Dean Winchester, are a very special guest indeed! You have a very unique and honored destiny ahead of you, my boy! We are here to prepare you for portions of that journey. Speaking of which, it is now time to begin preparing you…" the priest said enthusiastically.

A/N: Sorry guys, hadn't realized that had f#$ked up my posting til just now...damn thing is getting to be almost as bad as Facebook...Anywho, what do ya think?

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