| Bloodripper's First
I.
General Matthew held the crystal-tipped wand in one hand, and examined
the prisoner. There were many similarities. The chained man
had a black beard and black eyes, and was heavily muscled, just like
the general. Unlike him, the general was fully armored in black
plate armor save for the spiked golden gauntlet on his left hand.
"So, do you have anything to say before we proceed?" The general smiled.
The cloaked figure in the background shifted, but its hood
concealed any statement.
"If you won’t take a ransom to free me, then go ahead and kill me. I
won’t be a good slave, trust me." The scars on the prisoner’s body
showed that he had seen many, many battles.
"Oh, but I think you will. You were a worthy opponent - no match for
me of course. But you did fight well, and you certainly absorbed a
lot of punishment before you fell. And that’s why I have selected you
for this honor." He toyed with the black iron wand.
"What honor might that be?"
"On an journey recently, a mage of my acquaintance changed a very large
and threatening beast into a giant riding salamander. It has
served me well, and it has occurred to me that other animals might
be useful guards and hunting companions. But animals are fragile in
battle…they lack the necessary fighting skills and intellect to combat
armed humans. Unless the animals are abnormally intelligent…"
"You’re going to turn me into an animal? You’d better not turn you back
on me."
"We’ll see." The general gestured at the figure in the corner, who in
turn chanted a few words and pointed at the prisoner. The prisoner
groaned and collapsed. Matthew rose and removed the chains, as well
as the man’s loincloth. He wouldn’t need it.
"Now for the fun." Matthew smiled and gestured. The cloaked figure approached,
its footsteps shadowed by a great brown-furred
beast. The General recognized a giant wolverine from his adventures
in the Arch-mage Alias’ castle. He studied the beast, which now sat
a few paces away. The hooded figure scritched the wolverine’s ears
as he did so.
Finally the general pointed the wand and spoke the command. Flickering
lights played about the unconscious prisoner as he changed. He
sprouted long fur, claws and tail, a muzzle grew from his face, and
he increased in size…in a few seconds it was over. A black-furred
giant wolverine lay where the man had been.
Matthew picked up the belt-sized leather collar and advanced on the
sleeping beast. In a moment he had fastened it around the its neck.
The beast shimmered again, growing once more. Now it was double its
previous mass, perhaps four hundred pounds of wolverine.
"A pretty beast." Indeed, the beast’s long glossy fur was handsome.
"Is there anything else I should know about it?" He asked the
cloaked figure.
"The collar will insure its obedience to you and maintain its increased
size. You can feed it meat or a mixture of foods, and it will prosper.
It should be bathed once a week. Depending on how much of the man’s
nature it retains, it may be playful or hostile. Oh, and it is mating
season for the beasts, though you aren’t planning on breeding them
I understand." The druid threw back her hood, revealing a plain face
and graying hair. "I rely upon your assurance that it will be treated
well."
"That depends on how useful he is to me. But I assure you, after the
money I’ve spent on him, I’ll treat him well…"
Jarred woke from a dream of pain and changes to find himself in a new
body. Things were hazy, but he knew that he had changed and
that he owed loyalty to the man in the black armor. He received his
new name, Bloodripper, and began to get used to his new form.
In a week he had learned the limits of his body, and had recovered most
of his memories. His new form was immensely strong, fast, and
possessed seemingly limitless endurance. Fighting practice soon convinced
both that he could outmatch nearly any human in battle.
Especially since the general was having armor made for him. It wasn’t
worth losing his humanity, but it was better than death.
Bloodripper awoke from a strange dream of wolverines with the faces
of human women. Details fled from him as he lay twitching, but his
racing blood and pounding heart told him enough about the nature of
the dream. He twitched uncomfortably at the sensation of his
throbbing cock stretching the furry skin of its sheath to the limit.
He was curled up on the stone floor of the pantry, having flopped there
after a heavy meal of meat and vegetables. The General
continued to insist on a mixed diet, and in truth he was beginning
to enjoy it.
His efforts to distract himself by thinking about food didn’t work.
He was still painfully erect. If the dream had gone on for a few more
seconds, he’d have come right here on the floor of the pantry.
Voices from the kitchen disturbed his reverie. The cook was preparing
the evening meal. He sniffed, catching the scent of the cook and
the assistant, and of course the food odors that permeated this place.
His nose told him that the cook…Delia?…was in her period. The musky
scent of her blood only strengthened his lust. His panting grew
louder as he shivered, overcome by the need to mate. It felt as though
he were going to spasm out his lust right here in the pantry…
His ears picked up the sound of the cook’s assistant leaving, then the
cook’s footsteps approaching the pantry. He shivered, unsure of
his reactions…
"Oh! Hello, um, Bloodripper." The cook paused at seeing the huge wolverine
curled in her path. Despite his intimidating appearance, the
General had assured her that he was fully controlled and harmless –
save by his word. The beast’s deep brown eyes moved over her as
she stood in the doorway. Somehow it looked jumpy today.
Well, she had to get past it to reach the spices. "Excuse me," she mumbled,
stepping over the black-furred tail. It took only a moment to
pull the bag of salt she needed from the shelf.
But as she stepped back past the beast, he moved. Bloodripper had been
a man before he was a wolverine, and he wanted this woman.
Wanted her right now. As a human he had raped and pillaged, and as
a wolverine he didn’t hesitate to do the same.
He rose under the woman as she stepped over him, catching her foot with
one long-clawed paw and tumbling her to the floor. She rolled
onto her back as he stepped forward, back arched uncomfortably with
lust.
"What are you doing! I have to…oof!" He silenced her by forcing her
torso to the floor with a paw, dropping his muzzle towards her
abdomen. As she drew in a breath to scream he bit into her clothes
and ripped away her dress and undergarment.
The cook caught her breath in new horror as the black-furred beast stepped
over her, his back arched as his hindquarters descended on
her groin. His intentions were plain now. She tried to hold him off
with hands locked in the fur of his chest, but he just shifted to straddle
her. He was too big and much too strong for her to hold him at bay.
"Get off me, you miserable…"
Bloodripper wasn’t listening. He had ripped the cook’s skirt off before
pinning her to the floor, and now he struggled to enter her. His
inflamed cock slid across her smooth skin, but he couldn’t seem to
get it into her pussy.
He was so aroused from his near-wet dream that the mere sensation of
sliding it over her was driving him over the edge. He struggled to
hold back as he began to shudder, then…
"Oh, Yuck!" the cook exclaimed as with a deep Grrruh!! The giant wolverine
exploded hot semen across her naked belly and breasts.
His hot cock slid through a puddle of its own product as the beast
convulsed, shooting more of the same across the rags of her dress.
Finally he finished, his thighs trembling as the last of his seed spurted
onto her navel. He remained above her for a moment, shivering,
then snarled under his breath and stepped away. The cook lay where
she was as he padded away, long white claws clicking on the
floor. Wolverine seed oozed across her belly and dripped from her sides.
In the kitchen, the assistant opened the door and leaped aside as the
wolverine barreled out. She looked after him for a moment, then
shook her head and entered. Through the open door of the pantry she
saw the prone body of the cook, and rushed to see what had
happened.
"What do you think happened?" The cross cook wiped wolverine jizm off
her breasts with the rags of her dress. "The great furry oaf
tried to rape me. I should have seen it coming, the way he was looking
at me."
II.
"…And then he ripped my dress off and tried to rape me. He would have,
too, except he lost control and let me have it right on my
stomach. Let’s hear it for premature ejaculation."
Matthew rested his chin on his golden gauntlet as he considered. "The
druid said that this was the wolverine’s mating season. But I didn’t
think it would affect him so soon, he’s only been changed a few days.
It probably wouldn’t have happened with a real wolverine, but he
was a man before and you must have looked good to him."
"Well, he doesn’t look good to me. I can’t work with that thing around,
looking at me, waiting for me to bend over. No, either he goes
or I go." She fingered the jeweled brooch the general had given her
as way of compensation. It was worth a thousand lunars at least, and
was the only reason she didn’t walk out of here right now.
"I’ll see what I can do about getting him to stay away. You’re too good
a cook to lose over something like this…"
Samantha lay back on the low bed and eyed the general with trepidation.
"You want me to do what?"
"Bloodripper was a man before I changed him into a wolverine. It’s his
mating season now, and there are no female giant wolverines to
be had, so I need you to be his mate."
"But, he’s an animal! It’s not like you were asking me to make love
to you."
"You can bring the complaint up with the Slave Advocate if you are unhappy.
But I can assure you that Bloodripper just wants sex, he’s
not going to eat you. And you’ve had sex with other species."
"All right, I guess…I won’t get pregnant, will I?"
"Of course not." I don’t think so, anyway. "He’s a lot bigger than most
men, judging from appearances. Pour some of this oil into
yourself and spend a few minutes getting ready. Then I’ll let him in."
Ripper lay outside the door as instructed, wondering why the general
had ordered him up here. He’d figured out by now that the collar
he wore did more than double his natural bulk; it compelled him to
obey the general’s orders. He still had his mind, but the wolverine’s
instincts grew stronger by the day. He was little more than a pet now.
His annoyed musings were interrupted by a low moan from inside the door.
It was repeated a few seconds later. The smell of a woman
in a state of growing lust drifted to him on the draft under the door.
He listened, interested despite his irritation. The General must be
making love to his slave. Probably his idea of punishment was making
Ripper listen to what he couldn’t have.
He was panting, unable to resist listening as the woman inside moaned.
He could feel his cock stiffening in its sheath. Maybe he couldn’t
have the woman, but the general might just slip on a sticky puddle
on the way out. He suddenly wondered: could he reach his cock with
his tongue?
As he curled around himself to try, the door opened. Ripper started,
seeing the general there in the doorway. The general, in turn, smiled
to see him trying to lick himself, then stood aside. A glance past
him, and into the eyes of a naked slave woman; he rose to his feet
without realizing it.
"She’s all yours." Matthew scritched the top of Ripper’s head as the
wolverine padded in. "Just don’t hurt her." The woman smiled
nervously, fingering one of her nipples; behind Ripper, a click of
closing door.
Ripper was ready. He was hard, but not so inflamed as last time. He
wasn’t going to come on this woman’s stomach! He stepped
forward, reaching the foot of the low bed in three paces, and climbed
up as the woman settled her shoulders back to the bed. He
straddled her, she spreading her legs for him, and lowered his haunches.
His sheathed cock slipped across her thigh, then missed her pussy and
slid across her belly. He shifted his position and tried again as the
woman moved beneath him. He growled in irritation as he missed once
more. Then the woman lifted her legs and hooked her knees over
his thighs. She slid farther under him, fingers now gripping his chest
fur, as he tried again. This time he felt pressure on the tip of his cock,
something felt right…
The wolverine’s eyes opened wide in shock as his sheath pulled back,
releasing his shaft into the woman. The new position had lined him
up perfectly; he arched his back and pushed farther in, her warm tightness
stretching all around him now. Now her legs locked around
his muscular middle, and he withdrew slightly and then thrust for the
first time.
It was heaven. She was so tight around his cock, yet wet and slippery,
and he slid in and out of her effortlessly, building up a rhythm that
his body seemed to know already. He humped the slave woman, and she
began to respond, moaning under her breath and whispering to
him how big and hot he was.
Ripper could feel his cock swell further as the woman’s pussy gripped
him. She was so tight that she must have been very ready to
accept him, or else he’d never have gotten into her. He lowered his
muzzle and began to lick her ears, all he could reach, as his
hindquarters took over.
It went on and on, long after the woman screamed out her passion and
relaxed against him. He could feel his own passion building,
minute upon minute, but still he didn’t come. His attempt this morning
must have worn him out…
Or not. Suddenly he could feel the lust building, his thighs spasming
as the pressure grew to uncontrollable levels. With a grunt, he found
his back arching hard, lights flashing behind his eyelids as his passion
erupted from him. A mighty geyser of semen spurted out of him,
filling the woman’s sex and leaking out. Ripper spasmed again, and
more wolverine jizm dripped out of the woman onto the bed.
Finally the shuddering passed and he relaxed, still inside the woman
but satisfied, shrinking now. The slave woman reached up, grabbing
his muzzle and pulling in close. To his surprise she kissed his cold,
black nose. He shivered as a last few drops of seed oozed into her,
then stepped off her, pulling his shrunken cock out so it could return
to its sheath. He lay beside the woman on the bed, satisfied now.
He could live with his new form as long as it offered pleasures like
these…
Later he lay on his back in the great iron bath tub, enjoying the attention
as the slave lathered the soap into his fur. As she brushed his
belly with the scrubber, he felt the stirrings of lust, and guided
her hand to his sheath with one paw. Her soapy hand on his sheath soon
brought his cock out to play, and the lather lubricated his member
as her hand slid along it. He lay there and enjoyed it, twitching
occasionally, and finally growled and spurted his lust out onto his
belly fur. She washed it out, smiling, knowing that this was one less
time she’d have to bend over for him. Not that she minded; he was an
attentive lover, if demanding.
It was a month later that his troubles began. He had grown accustomed
to his new form and duties as Matthew’s tracker and all-around
hunting wolverine. The General was very pleased with his new servant
and told Bloodripper that he was going to create another like him.
The new wolverine, Redfang, didn’t adjust as well to his change, and
soon Matthew sent Samantha to comfort him. Samantha
disappeared that night, into Redfang’s belly in bloody chunks, provoking
Bloodripper into a frenzy. Matthew had to wade into the
resulting bloody battle with all his protective magicks going to prevent
them from killing one another. He soon provided each of them
with a slave, but it was never the same for Bloodripper. There could
never be another Samantha….
Had she loved him? He didn’t know. Could a wolverine love a woman? Yes,
one could. If the woman was willing. Whether he had truly
loved her or not, her loss devastated him. His moping around the townhouse
irritated the general, who soon ordered another slave girl to
comfort him. He rebuffed her advances, and only fearsome threats from
the general brought her back to his room. She didn’t leave it.
Not on her own two feet anyway. Another slave would have soon followed
her into Bloodripper’s belly if the general hadn’t intervened.
Surprisingly, Redfang had mellowed greatly and was having great sport
with his personal slave. Until Bloodripper caught her alone and
treated her as Redfang had treated Samantha. Another bloody fight between
the two ensued. Matthew considered killing the recalcitrant
wolverine, but considered that he had at least one option left….
III.
Alias sat on the edge of the embroidered divan and considered the image
in the wizard stone. General Matthew of Greyston, at the other
end of the connection, did the same.
Alias was not the arch-mage’s true name. Those who knew of his creations
often called him the Maker, for he specialized in creating
hybrid human-animals. His first major success had been the Praka, or
raccoon-people. The clever halfling-sized coons with their nimble
hands had proven so successful that he went on to make other hybrids.
His crowning achievement had been to metamorphize his fox
familiar into a thinking, humanoid follower.
His later creation of the Gul wolverine-men had not been so successful,
as their creation had been from a particularly bad-natured family
of wolverines. They still served him well as guards, but he had always
wished that they had inherited more of the friendly, playful nature
that some of the wolverines he had studied displayed.
"So you have taken to making hybrids yourself now, or close enough."
Alias was completely bald, and had numerous tattoos on his pate.
He wore a saffron robe intricately decorated with dragon embroidery;
his castle, the South Keep that guarded one of Greyston's
mountain passes, was copiously ornamented with dragon hangings, to
the banner on the tallest tower. Dragons, unfortunately, had not
proven as simple to control and manipulate as mammals. Perhaps one
day.
"More or less. It was successful at first, but the wolverine became
infatuated with a slave girl, and when she was killed by the other
wolverine, he became uncontrollable." The general tapped a gauntleted
finger on the armrest. Apparently it had been a mistake to have
Redfang kill the woman. She had gentled Bloodripper’s nature more than
he liked, but the alternative was turning out to be worse. "I
have offered him other slaves, but he has refused them – even killed
some of them. He is becoming uncontrollable, even with the spells
on the collar. But he is too valuable to give up. Can you help me?"
"I certainly owe you a favor for rescuing me from my own folly." Alias
had been trapped in his own dungeons for months after an
experiment in immortality had gone wrong. Convinced of his invulnerability,
he had stripped himself of magical devices and challenged a
young dragon in his bestiary. The beast had discovered that it could
do no permanent harm to the mage, so it had swallowed him whole.
Alias had been in constant agony for weeks as the dragon struggled
to digest him faster than he could regenerate. Eventually an
expedition from Greyston had discovered his plight and freed him. The
general had led that expedition. "Send him here with my weekly
supplies. I will do what I can to mellow his temper."
So it was that Bloodripper, in a typically foul temper, found himself
locked like a common animal in a shipping cage, and sent on all
all-day wagon ride to wind-swept valley of the south keep. The mage
himself had let him out of the cage, and he had vented his irritation
in a chilling snarl that hadn't discommoded the man at all.
His orders were to obey any orders Alias gave him, but no mention had
been made that there would be several Aliases! There were in
fact three outside the castle with him, all dressed identically.
"Bloodripper." The Alias with the most elaborate robe spoke. "I know
you have been in a difficult situation, but I think I can make it
worth your while to continue in it. Come with me, and we will discuss
it."
Bloodripper snarled his acquiescence and slouched after the master mage.
To his surprise the man turned and spoke again. "There is no
need for profanity, my friend."
Ripper snarled again, and the man smiled! "That’s right, I can understand
you. I deal with stranger creatures than you on a daily basis.
You’ll meet some of them soon."
And within an hour, he did. The arrogant Gul wolverine-people, so like
him in scent (could he but meet with one of their females!); the
elegant Volpa foxpeople, including Chula, Alias’ familiar; and the
Praka, clever raccoon-people, first of Alias’ creations. These and
others he met within the hour. The keep was a mixture of scents both
animal and human, and he felt more at home than he had since he
changed.
Alias laid down the law; no one in the keep was to be hurt, much less
killed. Even the rats were off limits. Unless Alias gave his
permission, and he hinted that such permission might not be long in
coming.
And then he called two little Praka females into the room and told them
to give Bloodripper a bath and brush out his fur. It’d been
weeks since he’d had a bath, as the women in Matthew’s townhouse were
afraid to come near him. It was enjoyable, that great tub of
hot water, and he relaxed in the bath, though it lacked the pleasures
that Samantha would have added. Next they dried his fur and
started to brush it out. Eventually he was stretched out on his back
as they dried his stomach.
He didn’t wonder that they brushed him thoroughly, right down to the
insides of his thighs and around his sheath. But he jumped when he
felt the first tongue there. Soon there were two, the Praka women seemingly
unconcerned that he watched them with his jaws hanging
open and his great fangs exposed. He growled at them to withdraw, but
they continued their labors, and he couldn't bring himself to kick
them away. He tried to ignore them, but it was still mating season,
and he could feel his cock stiffening rapidly in its sheath. When he was
fully erect, they teased him until his cock slid out, and then they
started to lick it as well. He started again when he felt the larger praka’s
thin lips on his tip, and growled under his breath as the narrow fanged
muzzle slowly slid over his cock.
The sharp fangs barely grazed him as she carefully maneuvered his cock’s
unwieldy bulk into her jaws, using her tongue to protect him
from the sharpest teeth. Soon his shaft was in the small muzzle all
the way to the back, his broad tip pressed into the narrow space at the
top of the praka’s throat. He shivered in amazement as the raccoon
woman opened her jaws farther and managed to force his tip into
her throat. It kept right on going, the wet slickness of the throat
unfolding around him as the praka pushed him farther in, until her
wide-gaped jaws were pressed into his belly fur and a foot of wolverine
cock was stuffed down her throat.
Samantha had never done anything like this. She’d licked him once, and
sucked him a few times…the praka woman began to work her
throat muscles, and the pulsing waves of sensation almost made him
come right then. Slowly she pulled off, leaving only his tip wrapped
by her thin lips as she sucked him hard. The other Praka was licking
his balls as the first went down on him again, and thoughts of
Samantha were far away as he struggled to hold his climax at bay.
He didn’t want to come for them. He wanted Samantha back. But they kept
sucking, and his cock kept disappearing down the little
raccoon woman’s throat, until he forgot Samantha. He couldn’t hold
back any longer. He could feel the pressure building, and he knew
the raccoons were going to get what they wanted. They felt him shivering,
and the larger pulled his cock out of her throat and licked it
from bottom to tip as the other praka took her tongue off his balls
and did the same.
The two tongues teasing his cock were more than he could bear. With
a snarl more like a roar he closed his eyes and let go with
everything he had. Jizm shot from his cock, spattering the two raccoons
and raining down on his bellyfur. He bucked on the drying
carpet, and the two coons grabbed onto his shaft with their strong
little hands, stroked him until he was dry. Finally the spasms passed,
and he opened his eyes to see spooge dripping from their whiskers and
ornamenting their black facemasks. He couldn’t help but growl
out a laugh as they chittered and began to lick it off each other and
him.
Five minutes later there was no sign of the great geyser, as their busy
tongues had gathered every drop from damp fur. Despite his
longing for his lost slave, he was in a mellow mood, and when he offered
his tongue to the larger raccoon’s vulva she eagerly accepted.
She and her companion churred out their own passions as his tongue
explored first one and then the other, not so different in taste than
his love had been. Finally he curled around them, and they fell asleep,
resting trustingly in the midst of his black fur.
IV.
The next day he sat in the wizard’s meeting room. Alias had called him
there soon after he had awoken from his lust-induced slumber,
and the praka-femmes had chrred and pushed him on his way. The mage
this morning had a strange twisted wand in hand, all iron and
green crystals.
"I called you here today to make you an offer. You're getting used to
being here…" the mage waggled a finger at something Ripper
couldn't see, and he heard little footpaws patter away, and a chittering
giggle. "…That is, you're adapting to being…you." Alias smiled,
and looked over the wolverine again. Such a magnificent specimen, eight
times the size of the raccoon-people, large as a big Gul, and in
such fine shape.
He shook his head, banishing the distraction. "Besides the companionship,
I have another thing to offer you. A trick I think you'll like,
and which will serve Lord Matthew well." Ripper grimaced at the name,
but a heavy tread distracted him. From a side door came a
bulky Gul, head to foot in dull gray platemail. The wolverine-man (woman?
They looked the same, and Ripper couldn't get a scent)
nodded to Alias, and began to undo the buckles of his gorget, then
breastplate. In a moment he slung the twenty pounds of metal off,
and set it to the side with a clatter.
Ripper rumbled inquisitively. It was a male Gul, no little black nipples
standing out as he had glimpsed in the females. Surely the mage
didn't expect him to…?
Alias smiled, reading the statement, and turned to watch the Gul. That
one stood to his full two-meter height, stretching and twisting, and
then nodded at someone past the door he's come in. A second Gul, smaller,
entered, and in its handpaws was a grunting, squealing hog.
Ripper blinked at the pig. Its hooves were strapped together with leather
thongs, its snout held shut, but it wriggled frantically, grunting
deeply. The first Gul took it from the other's hands, nodding to…her?…with
a genuine smile, and turned the pig so its belly was toward
himself, snout up. What was he doing?
He was taking its snout into his muzzle, is what he was doing. Ripper
watched, fascinated, as the gul's jaws gaped, and shoved down
over the pink nose and snout. The pig grunted frantically, wriggling
in the wolverine-man's grip, but with a lurch its entire head was gone,
the gul's jaws creaking and his neckfur swelling into a hard curve.
Ripper's eyes widened. How had the wolverine-man done that? Gurgling
around his muzzleful of pig, the Gul wrapped thick fingers
behind the hog's shoulders and squeezed more of it into his maw. Black
lips stretched thin around the vanishing pig's shoulders, and more
fell into the gul's muzzle, disappearing into his neck and torso. Increasingly
muffled, the pug's panicked squealing descended into the
mustelid's chest, even that swelling visibly as a hundred pounds of
pig was drawn in up to the navel.
Ripper couldn't take his eyes from the grotesque scene. Throwing his
muzzle back, the Gul straightened his jaws on his neck, bolting the
pig deeper with quick forward snaps. The forehooves of the meal were
long gone, vanished into the hungry maw, and suddenly there
were just the pig's haunches, kicking feverishly from the predatory
jaws. And now, even that was vanishing, the gul's muzzle bobbing as
the curled tail and hindlegs slipped smoothly from view.
And then, the jaws closed, kicking hooves surrounded by black lips,
and with a visible gulp, the pig slid down. The gul's torso bulged, a
strange gurgle forced out of his muzzle, and then with a lurch his
bellyfur jumped out into a heavy bulge. Ripper stared at it, fixated, as
the trapped pig kicked and squirmed. The Gul just smiled, pressing
his fingerpads into the stretched fur to feel the shape, feel the
struggle.
Bbuuurrrpp. Rumbling up from the depths of the wolverine-man, the belch
was heavy, crass, and lingering, blowing out his cheeks as he
vented the air swallowed along with the pig. Casually collecting his
armor, he padded for the exit with the smaller Gul, who was making
noises that Ripper had to call giggling. Bellyfur still jumping with
the pig's final struggle, he vanished through the door.
Ripper's cheek thumped to the floor as the source of his fascination
vanished. His paws twitched all on their own, and to his surprise, he
found himself badly in need of his raccoon-lady companions. How had
the Gul…?
Alias smiled. "Did you like the look of that? The Gul taking the squirming
pig into himself? As it happens, I have the spell that made him
able to do that." He toyed with his crooked wand. "Right here."
Ripper nodded excitedly, rolling onto his belly. Taut sheath scraped
across the stone, but he almost didn't notice. To be able to do
that…it didn't occur to him to wonder why he wanted to be able to!
It was enough that seeing it excited him almost beyond measure.
The wizard's smile broadened, and he lifted the wand. Words as twisted
as the iron wand murmured from his lips, and his free hand
drew out the imperishable golden scroll with the words of the mutating
spell. There was a chance this would kill the wolverine. There
was always that chance, when changing a creature so greatly.
But though the big wolverine writhed on the floor, forgetting his lust
in the pain of the change, his heart didn't fail. The loose form of the
spell fell from Alias' lips, rendering the subject able to change,
and then the recited, memorized list of the specific changes he wished
to
make this time. This spell had allowed him to turn raccoon into Praka,
fox into Volpa, wolverine into Gul…and Gul into a man-gulping
predator.
Claws cracked flakes from the tilestones as four hundred pounds of sentient
wolverine spasmed, not in ecstasy but pain, the necessary
changes to jaws, ribs, and internal organs done at the unhurried pace
the ancient incantation required. The last of it was most
complicated, ensuring that the passage of a heavy mass through his
torso wouldn't squeeze the life from his lungs and heart, that his belly
be strengthened and elastic enough to dissolve a great chunk of bone
and sinew and muscle.
And then, it was done. The wolverine slumped, exhausted, and Alias gestured
to the Gul waiting to the sides. They piled him into a
sleeping-basket, and shoved that to the side of the room where the
light was least. Tired, himself, the mage settled into his chair, and sent
a praka for a cup of tea. Another success.
V.
Ripper awoke, and the memory of pain lingered. A dream? No…there was
something different. He pawed at his snout, the other
forepaw rubbing at his belly, where something felt…off. And his chest
felt loose, somehow. Finally he awoke fully, lurched to his paws,
and shook himself. The feeling was still there, though he felt as strong
as ever.
A chuckle drew him out of his musing. There was the mage, and…Ripper
realized he had slept there in the meeting-hall, in a
sleeping-basket. As though he were a pet! A growl rumbled up from his
depths.
But Alias just smiled, and gestured. A Gul appeared from that same door,
dragging…another Alias? Ripper shook his head. This place
was so confusing, sometimes. This Alias was clad only in a loincloth,
and hands were bound behind. The tattoos, it turned out, continued
from bald pate to nape and across back and belly, missing only the
limbs in their complicated weaves. The Gul shoved him towards
Ripper, then drew him up with a grip around his biceps. This Alias
cursed.
"Confused? The real (Other? Original? Chief?) mage laughed. "I am the
original. This is just a copy. And most importantly, for your
needs…" He nodded at the Gul, and the wolverine-man thrust the 'copy'
to his knees, forcing him to lean toward Ripper. "This copy has
been very bad."
Ripper eyed the top of the copy's head. Intricate tattoos intertwined
there, dragons in flight, some so woven together it was hard to
make out whether they were fighting, mating, or just playing. To his
surprise, his mouth began to water. After a moment, he had to lick
his lips. Had the dream been real?
"Go ahead." The 'copy' swore at the chief mage, using words Ripper filed
away for future use. Assuming he could ever speak again.
"You need to test yourself, and this one needs to be punished. A stay
in your belly should about do it, I think." A half-cruel smile twisted
the mage's lips.
Ripper licked his lips again. He hadn't eaten since he arrived, distracted
by anger and the raccoons, then the sight of the pig vanishing
forever into the gul's maw. He'd eaten humans in the master's service,
of course, but…the copy shouted, trailing off into a shriek, and all
muffled as Ripper's broad jaws closed over his head. Face squelched
down into the soft wetness of the wolverine's tongue, he struggled,
as Ripper stood uncertain.
"Go on, go on." Alias waved a hand dismissively. "You know you want
to. And I will not offer again while you are here, most likely. Do
you want to miss…ahhhh." He smiled as the wolverine reached out a paw,
pulled the copy into the sleeping basket, wrapped iron-strong
forepaws around him. The attendant Gul cut the copy's binding with
a claw, and the man instantly gripped into the predator's fur, trying
to stop what would happen next. As though he had a chance.
Alias gestured at a small Praka woman, and she giggled and ran to wriggle
her muzzle up into his robe. The Gul rolled his eyes, and the
mage pointed at him sternly, then sent a praka to him as well. The
Gul stood frozen, ordered to stand fast, and the little raccoonette
giggled as she pried off his codpiece. Gul were so arrogant.
Ripper didn't see any of it. The thin mage in his grip tugged at his
jaws, trying to pull out, and pushed with all his might against thickly
muscled breastbone. It did him no good whatsoever. Curling a paw behind
his shoulders, Ripper yawned wide, and forced the mage's
head to the back of his jaws. Somehow he knew the impossible attempt
to swallow the man's head would succeed…and, as his tongue
forced the meal deeper, something loosened painfully in the sides of
his head. With a creak, his jaws parted wider than they ever had
before, and he gulped in the man's head, feeling his throat swell with
a lump larger than it had ever held before. But not large enough to
satisfy him. He pulled at the man….
Alias watched, attention split between the feeding wolverine and the
Praka's attentions, there beneath his robe. She was very skilled, and
he banished the passing embarrassment he felt at letting her do this
in front of others. It was his castle, after all. To the side, the Gul
rumbled, equal parts unhappy and lustful as his personal praka treated
him the same, and still other praka watched wide-eyed from the
back of the room. Some were males, and Alias knew that given half an
opportunity they would join the fun, particularly with two
praka-femmes all but bent over waiting. An orgy would be a distraction,
though. He wanted to see this.
Ripper's jaws creaked still wider, and he felt his lips pop down over
the copy's shoulders, one and then the other. His throat grew fuller
still, tight and stretched, as more of man was sucked in, paws pulling
hard at the shoulders, shifting to hips. As the head pushed down his
neck, he found himself swallowing avidly, his belly seeming to expand
in anticipation of the approaching meal. Torso creaked, as the
continuing pressure forced the head down into his ribcage, and still
he pulled.
Alias-7 screamed as fangs raked over his naked back, drawing beads of
blood, but the gullet pulsing around his face muffled the sound.
He could barely hold onto the wolverine's fur, now, the jaws pushing
his arms against his sides. He had seen this done to orcs and
goblins, humanoids stronger than he, and he knew he was no match for
the wolverine. But though he didn't have a single
spell-component, he didn't stop struggling. If he were going down,
it would not be without a fight.
Alias sighed, trying not to pay too much attention to his little lover,
not wanting to finish too soon. To the side, the Gul was swaying,
going glassy-eyed, his muzzle fixed in an statement of acute annoyance.
He couldn't keep his body from reacting, even though he saw it
as a blow to his honor to be 'punished' this way. Alias smiled, and
looked back at the wolverine.
Ripper lurched forward, trapping the copy's rump between his paws and
the basket's bottom, shoving his jaws downward to force more
of this meal into them. Each gulp seemed to intensify, his throat pulling
more and more strongly at the mage, as the hips filled his muzzle,
he found them sucking inward on their own. He let his paws fall away,
and ignored the fingers gripping at his lips, as a pressure down
inside him reminded him that the man's head was now entering his stomach.
Gulp, and the thighs were half gone; Gulp, and the knees
were in his muzzle, the bare feet kicking frantically. He felt the
man stretched out in his body, ribs tight around him, and instinctively
pressed his forepaws out at angles to his body, compressing the ribcage
to help squeeze the mage farther. And, GULP, the feet drew
into his muzzle, as the entire mass began to drain rapidly inward.
Alias-7 squirmed, entirely inside the wolverine now, but he couldn't
stop his thrashing, even when the throat sent him sliding irresistibly
downward. Slow waves of muscle moved beneath the flesh, gripping at
his hips and shoulders, too strong to fight as they forced him
ever farther into the stomach. He tried to stiffen, at the last moment,
but the slippery belly bent around him, and in a moment of confusion
he relaxed, only to be shoved entirely into it. Hips, legs, feet drained
in to finish the gulp, and he shoved his elbows against the
surrounding walls in a spasm of rage. It had been loose at first, but
it was stretched tight around him now, and he beat at the walls with
what litter leverage he could muster, knowing his fate was to feed
the wolverine, then pass on. He, who had been a master of magic, if a
minor one, was now just one meal in the life of the beast.
Alias gripped the armrests of his chair, and groaned as the copy's feet
slid from sight. The wolverine shifted in the basket, belly swelling
rapidly, and he imagined the doomed copy propelled down that slick
chute and into the waiting stomach. It was too much, along with the
praka's attentions, and he shivered, filling her muzzle with his seed.
As the wolverine worked his jaws, relaxing now, he looked across at
the Gul, and found him still stubbornly standing, praka's muzzle against
his belly. With a smile, he gestured - You can go now - and the
warrior grinned, scooping up the surprised raccoon as his black shaft
pulled from her mouth. With a grunt at her to be silent, he padded
off. He wouldn't hurt her…badly…Alias knew, but he was irritated, and
the mage hoped she was practiced enough to take his member
wherever he chose to put it. And in the back of the room, praka coupled,
male and female impossible to distinguish. He sighed. There
was a certain loss of dignity, sometimes.
Ripper stretched, meal stretched out inside his torso, and with a strong
gulp, swallowed the feet down. Throat grabbed them, and he felt
the entire mass slithering along through his body, belly growing rapidly
tight around the mage. Shoulders entered his belly, flee as a heavy
lump, then torso, then hips, and then a loosening, as legs and feet
were squeezed out of his torso, into the welcoming space between his
haunches. He groaned, hearing another groan at the same moment, and
shifted in the basket, hindpaws splaying wide as his stretched
belly-fur bulged and wriggled. His meal was not going quietly.
Alias-7's struggle lasted exactly as long as his air did…just over thirty
seconds. He exhaled a last breast, tried to draw it in again…and
the brute belched it out, the sound of the burp rumbling through the
torso, mixing in with the strong thud of heartbeat and the gurgle of
other, mysterious organs. Slapping the bellywall, he relaxed, slowly
succumbing. He had tried.
Alias relaxed, as the praka emerged from beneath his robe. From the
back of the room, chittering and churring, and from the side door,
a squeal as the annoyed Gul exercised his lust and displeasure equally
upon the little raccoon female. The exhausted wolverine in the
basket relaxed as well, belching heavily, and a flick of the mage's
fingers brought out more Gul to carry the basket off to the visitor's
room. He scritched his little lover's ears, watched her throatfur work
as she swallowed the seed he'd given her, and closed his eyes.
Dignity or no dignity, he'd had worse times.
VI.
Bloodripper lay on his back, too gorged to lie comfortably in any other
position. The great swollen curve of his belly blocked any view
of the fox-woman that lay by his tail, but he could feel her presence
as her tongue slid across his balls.
He had tried to dissuade her from this, communicating through gesture
that the great lump of mage in his belly would keep him from
coupling. She hadn’t listened, and he could feel himself stiffening
as her tongue moved through the fur of his sheath. Soon her expert
tongue had teased his swollen cock out of its sheath. He could see
only bits of her past the vast swollen bulge of his stomach, but he
knew what was happening as her thin lips wrapped his tip and sucked
him in.
Her muzzle was almost as narrow as the praka's, but the back of her
mouth was wider. He growled as she flexed her jaws and
swallowed him, the whole length of his erection sliding into her hot
slick throat. This foxwoman really knew what she was doing, as she
sucked and swallowed him. In moments he was fully erect and painfully
hard, and felt that his usual lengthy matings might be truncated
this time by an uncontrollable early climax.
But she pulled off of him, and rose to her knees, black-furred hands
unbuckling the belt that held her loincloth. Surely she couldn't think
that she could fit him in?
She did. She was thrice the size of the praka women, but even so he
outweighed her more than three to one. And he couldn’t help her,
as a hundred and fifty pounds of partly digested mage in his stomach
pinned him to the floor. So he could only watch as she straddled
the far side of the monstrous bulge of his belly.
Fox-men must have big cocks, was his first thought as she guided his
massive erection into the tightness of her vulva. She stepped over
his cock, one hand holding its stiffness vertical, and lowered herself
onto it. His broad tip parted her pussy lips, and his thick shaft
followed it into her as she lowered herself. She was stretched tight
around him, eight inches of his foot in her. She let out a yip of
pleasure and began to rock back and forth, humping herself onto him.
Her hands gripped the fur of his monstrously swollen belly, and he felt
the partly digested mage within shift. For a moment he was
uncomfortable, then his thoughts turned back to her tight pussy. She
barked and growled in pleasure, and he managed to reach down
and grip her thighs with his long-clawed forepaws. Gripping her buttocks,
he pulled her closer, grinding himself into her, bringing a growl
of both of them as he forced himself deeper. It wasn’t long before
he hit bottom inside her.
She kept control, though it would have been easy for her to lose herself
in the passion and fall out of position. She rode him, conscious
of the fact that he couldn’t help her, until twenty minute later he
finally began to shiver.
He felt the passion approach, and let go of her rather than risk clawing
her as he came. In a moment the climax was upon him, and his
frame shuddered as he pumped semen into her. She clamped down with
her pussy muscles as he spurted, and the violent spasm that hit
him then almost dislodged her from her position.
He pulled in his tongue as he regained control, and noticed that she
hadn’t been able to come herself, as she’d had to stay in perfect
position past his swollen belly. As she rose to her feet, he hooked
her thighs again, forcing her to step forward over his torso. In a
moment, she was standing above him, thighs spread, with her feet on
either his of his head. He let his tongue come out again as he pulled
her lower…
Life had seemed unbearable just a few days ago. Trapped in a strange
form, denied companionship, love, he had considered flinging
himself from the walls of Greyston. But things could change quickly.
Soon he would have to return to Matthew, be a guard and half-pet
again. That might be hard. But attitude, he was learning, was everything.
The End
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