Ariadne and the Tales of Heroes (Erotic Version) - Cover

Ariadne and the Tales of Heroes (Erotic Version)

Copyright© 2019 by CMed TheUniverseofCMed

Chapter 11: September 19th 1892

Historical Sex Story: Chapter 11: September 19th 1892 - A Native American in World War 1 ends up discovering that the deities and mythical creatures do exist and more. The story is a collection of stories rolled into one book. It is a story of gods, furry, scalie, and Historical Fiction/Alternate History and Erotic Fiction rolled into one. This version does have the sex in it. Contains Human Male/Minotaur Romance/Sexual themes and Male Dragon/Human Female Sexual themes MF, FM.

Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Magic   Reluctant   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Fairy Tale   Historical   Humor   Military   War   Alternate History   Furry   Cream Pie   Lactation   Oral Sex   Pregnancy   Size   Violence  

Somewhere near the town of Dogba, a place in Western Africa, a Foreign Legion Battalion led by Major Faurax had made camp in the forests. Their goal was to seize the city of Abomey belonging to the Kingdom of Dahomey. It was about four months in a war that would ultimately be known as the Second Franco-Dahomean War. This little known war was one of many examples of European conquest into Africa during the time of colonialism. France, just like all the European nations of the time period, tried to expand their influence outward by any means necessary. This war was no different.

The small French army of almost 4,000 was ultimately led by Commander Alfred Dodds, a man of mixed race that was responsible for the entire campaign. His goal, as directed by politicians, was to dispose of the ruler King Béhanzin that ruled the kingdom. By doing this, the Kingdom of Dahomey would be dissolved and be made a part of French West Africa. The expedition to the capital of Abomey was a long and tedious one. The Dahomey or sometimes referred to as the Fons, were supplied with purchased British and German weapons, including sometimes artillery. Disease, weather, and ambushes plagued the invasion force, but the superior technology of the French, including the control of the seas, better equipment, African volunteers, and Sengalese marksmen, were making the trek to the central capital relatively easy.

The army was split into three columns as they traversed through the Queme River. Marius Paul Faurex was a Frenchman responsible for leading the forward most columns as they tried to march by the City of Dogba.

“Majeur, nous sommes encore ... waiting on the word of General Dodd on what to do next,” said one of the messengers. The soldier was dressed comfortably despite the heavy heat that beat down in the forests.

“Right...” said Faurex. “I guess we will stay here for another day, then, shall we. We have been here since the 14th. We need to get moving again. I believe in Dodd, but we are still vulnerable in this forest, even if he thinks this ambush proof. Alright, soldier, that will be all.”

The soldier saluted the Major as he went back to his sentry post. Faurex took a good look around him. He was in a column of hundreds of soldiers as they had made camp by the river. He had the river to one side and nothing but dense, thick forest. French gunboats had already been helping reinforce the riverside, but there was nothing available to protect them from the other sides if they got attacked.

Faurex began to walk about the camp as he was inspecting the men and tents. It was not a formal inspection. He was just curious as to the condition of the men. Some men sat and slept in their tents while some played games. Some French soldiers interacted with the African volunteers, but all in all, it was a relatively peaceful day.

“We are in the most likely situation of getting attacked by Dohemmey soldiers,” he said quietly to himself. “With us being the forward most group attack is likely. We should be able to trounce them, though. Even their best soldiers have failed to stop our might. We will teach them what it means to take on the French. Yet why do I feel a sense of dread coming? It’s like I am a fly about to find a great snack when a frog is about to devour me. I can’t shake this feeling.”

He walked the furthest north to check at the sentry post. It was cobbled together wood forming a barricade with nothing but thick foliage and trees ahead of them. They already had to use machetes to cut through the forest.

“We might be superior, but we are fighting the people in their land,” as he continued to think to himself. “Dodds may feel that we are safe from attack, but the enemy knows how to use their land to their advantage. With it being their land, they will be more likely to fight to the death as well even if they are outmatched.”

Faurex sighed as he wiped the sweat off his head. Some of the sweat reached his mustache as he proceeded to wipe it away. He approached the sentry post, and the guards saluted him.

“Sir, we have nothing to report.”

He saluted back “Good ... keep an eye on that forest ahead of you. I am getting a bad feeling. If the enemy is gathering its forces to attack our expedition force, it would be around this time. As you were.”

“Aye, sir.”

The guards turned around and kept an eye out at the dense forest, trying to spot anything.

Faurex walked back to the camp as he continued to pace the field. Besides the activity and occasional music being played in the camp it was a beautiful day. The forest had an activity of wildlife that chanted and spoke to one another. He could hear the birds chirping and singing. He was not much a wildlife person, but it was noticeable.

“Sometimes I worry that our people advance too much,” he thought to himself. “We think we are superior so much that we can do anything. I wish the French learned from the Franco Prussian War. That was truly a war. We went in thinking that we could defeat the Prussians and instead they marched into Paris. We now have our Third Republic as a consequence. I watched as good men died in those battles. Now the Prussians united to form the Empire of Germany. If they were able to do that without even being united, imagine the power they have now. If they conquer Paris again, we might not regain it ever again. Our firepower gets stronger and stronger to the point we have to dig holes and hope our artillery does the job. Here though, the battle will be different. Sometimes I feel our invasion into Dahomey is just to save face from our past losses. We win we go home, and we say ‘we at least did that.’”

In the African campaigns, some of the most significant victories for the French were attributed to the Foreign Legion. Sometimes battles were turned around by the legends of what the legion did. While some Europeans would freak out and drop their guns during a fight and retreat, the Foreign Legion would not do so. These brave men were formed from all walks of life from Africa to France, to Asia, and time and time again would pull the French army out of the fire. They participated in the Franco Prussian War, the Mexican Expedition, Crimean War, the Algerian Campaign, and now this conflict.

Faurex wiped more sweat from his head. He sighed, “This damn heat ... it will be the death of me.”

He stopped and looked at a bird that was perched on a branch. He did not recognize it at first, but he starred at it from a distance. It was a parrot of some kind that simply watched him in return and looked around.

“Do you see anything up there?” Faurex asked the parrot. “I don’t suppose you happen to know when we are heading out again, do you?”

The parrot took flight as its wings opened wide, and it flew to the more distant trees away from him.

“I guess you don’t.”

Suddenly gunfire erupted from the sentry post that he left from. He turned and began to run back to camp. The sentries that were there came running into the field.

“Alarm! We are under attack! Hundreds of soldiers are coming!”

“I knew it...” He said out loud. “Everyone get off your asses! Grab your gun! And take defensive positions. Form a line now!”

Everyone in the camp scrambled. Some ran to the racks grabbing a rifle while others ran to the tents getting dressed as quickly as possible. It was chaos, but everyone was getting ready. A small line of soldiers of various colors, uniforms, and culture assembled to form a defensive position at the edge of the camp.

Right on cue, men of dark complexion came running out the forest sporting rifles, and even machetes came running out the forest ahead of them.

“Fire at will! Fire at Will!” Faurex yelled. He unholstered his revolver and was at the ready as he pointed at the enraged group of men as they drove forward.

Gunshots erupted from both sides. French were firing their deadly Lebel Rifles at the Fon soldiers. These bolt action rifles, capable of holding eight rounds, were so good that it became the standard rifle of the Great War almost twenty years later. The Dahomey soldiers and warriors fired and charged at the enemy. They came in, firing their guns from the hip at the French soldiers. While not practical as most of their shots missed, it had a layer of shock and awe at the ferocity of the warriors. Another Fon soldier jumped onto a French soldier when he lifted his machete high in the air, ready to slice open the soldier below him.

Fureax aimed his revolver at the machete-wielding soldier and fired. The soldier dropped to the sandy grass below bleeding to death. He pointed at another enemy soldier and fired missing the target.

Some of the Dahomey soldiers had stools that they brought with them. They formed a line as they placed the stools down and perched their leg to get a good shot at the enemy.

Some of the French soldiers were in a panic as they struggled to gun down every enemy soldier they could see. It was survival mode for the army as every man fought for their life.

A round whizzed past Fureax’s ear as he turned to see a Dahomey soldier was firing at him from one of the trees. He was using the tree as cover. Fureax was out in the open as he took aim and fired his revolver at the shooter. The round smashed into the bark.

“Damn!” he said out loud. “Men stay in the fight! We can win this!”

A screaming sound came from one of the Dahomey warriors as they charged into the line. The warrior took a bullet wound as they jumped and started slashing a nearby French soldier. Blood rained on the ground as another French soldier pulled out his knife and stabbed the warrior to death.

It was to Fureax’s shock when he looked at the dead Dahomean warrior. The body rolled over as it revealed breasts. He had not spotted it during the mayhem of the battle. This warrior was a woman.

“My god...” He said out loud. He looked at some of the enemy soldiers and could tell that some were women now. They ran into the battle with their chests bare screaming into battle, shooting or slashing anything that they could use.

“The stories are true...” he said quietly to himself. “We are fighting amazons. The Dahomey are using female soldiers in their attack.”

The stories were indeed true. The Battle of Dogba featured the warrior women of Fons. This Dahomean regiment consisted of all women. They were called amazons by some and called themselves the Mino or mothers. These women were hardened, going through intense military and survival training. They would even claim that they were no longer women but men.

Some of the French soldiers were beginning to hesitate as they saw that some of the enemy soldiers were women. One of the soldiers aimed at a woman that charged at him. He looked back in shock. He could not shoot a woman, but the woman did not hesitate to aim her rifle at the French soldier as she pulled the trigger.

The French soldier dropped dead from the gunshot. Fureax aimed his revolver at the woman and pulled the trigger. She fell to the ground, bleeding as the Major pulled his sword and slashed the woman in the chest as she finally fell to the ground dead.

“Don’t hesitate men!” Fureax yelled. “Shoot them all! Man or woman, they will show you no mercy!”

The French soldiers seemed to get the hint. This was a battle of survival now. If they retreat, the Dahomean soldiers will likely chase them down, gut them, or do something worse to them.

The French line was holding. More Dahomean soldiers were falling now than ever before. Despite the rushing attack, most of the enemy soldiers were disorganized in their fight. Shooting from stools and rushing your opponents with knives was no way to win a battle against soldiers that had proper training and good weapons.

Fureax took aim at another shooter and fired, but the shot missed. He retook aim and fired another shot. This shot struck the shoulder of the shooter. He recoiled in pain as he lifted his rifle to aim at the French soldiers before another bullet took him down.

The sounds of machine-gun fire could be heard as it came from the river itself beside them. It was the gunboat Opale that showed up and joined up in the fight. It used its Hotchkiss Machine Gun to litter the enemy column from the riverside. Men cheered at the sight as the gunboat tore into the enemy. The boat fired round after round at the Dahomey. They had no way to combat an attacking boat from the water.

“We are winning,” he noted to himself. “They will be retreating in no time.”

“Sir, above us!” A soldier yelled at the major. “Some of them are shooting at us from the trees!”

Some of the Dahomey soldiers had actually climbed the trees and were shooting down upon them.

“Take them down, men!” he yelled.

Some of the French soldiers were shooting at the trees above them, hitting the Dahomey soldiers. Some men here and there rained to the ground dead or dying as they got shot.

Suddenly a shot rang out as Fureax felt it. He felt a burning pain on his hip. He looked down and saw blood trickling from a bullet hole on his side.

“Damn!” he took aim at the shooter that shot him. He aimed his revolver, not caring if he hit or missed. He pulled the trigger, and the sound of click gave out from his revolver. He was out of rounds in his gun. He looked at his revolver and was at horror at the soldier above him. The shooter fired another shot as it struck him almost at the same spot on his left hip.

Fureax started to breathe slowly as two bullet holes filled his side. Blood pooled to the dirt and grass below him. “No... , “ he said. “We were so close to the end...”

He fell to the ground. Another soldier took aim and shot the sniper dead as he fell to the ground from the treetops. Gunshots still filled the area, but it was starting to die down slowly.

“Major has been hit!” yelled one of the French soldiers.

A fellow French soldier ran up to the Major and tried to tend to his wounds. Fureax felt nothing but burning from his side as he struggled to bear the pain.

“Keep going, men!” he yelled.

The battle was coming to a close as the Dahomey soldiers and warriors started to retreat. Hundreds lay dead on the ground. It was a victory but not a victory for the major.

Fureax struggled to stay conscious. Some of the French cheered at the running soldiers as others tried to tend to the wounded, including the major himself.

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