The Wolf and the Mage
Brock hadn't had an easy life growing up in the dense urban sprawl of the capital city. But while the young wolf had seen his share of hungry days he managed to eke out a living by taking on various odd jobs throughout the years.
Street cleaning, road repair, lamp oil refiller, Brock had worked hard to earn a day's pay. Eventually he stumbled upon some semblance of stability when he found regular employee as a courier for a private delivery service.
The jobs had started small, and likewise the pay. Small boxes hand delivered to wherever his oversee had told him to. Questions about the contents of the boxes weren't tolerated and Brock suspected he might have been delivery recreational drugs in some cases, given the hungry look of the delivery recipients as they signed for the package.
But as the months went on, the wolf began to be trusted with bigger jobs. Deliveries to neighboring bureaus and eventually adjacent cities. More risk meant more pay and the nineteen year old was able to eat regular, hearty meals. Life was looking good, despite a couple mugging attempts and one strange case where a customer refused to sign for the package while simultaneously insisting the parcel be handed over.
Brock was quick on his feet and had good instincts for when a situation didn't feel right. Other delivery boys would occasionally disappear without a trace and the company would dutifully report the missing persons to the police. But not much could be done when no one knew when or where the delivery person disappeared. Such was life in the big city.
In the two years Brock worked for the delivery service, several of the new hires would quit after just a handful of deliveries. They gave various excuses but the wolf knew the real reason. They were afraid of becoming another crime statistic. But Brock stayed on. Though tempted to quit and find work as a simple dishwasher or chef aide, he told himself he knew the risks and that he needed the money.
Had he known what awaited him on his next job, the wolf would have run away from the place as fast as his feet could carry him.
For what would end up being his final delivery, his oversee escorted him to a back room where an overfull backpack waited for him. The man was an obese cheetah who claimed to have been a courier himself years ago, before accepting a management position.
The backpack was huge and quite heavy.
"Oh, umm, gee sir," Brock said. "What is this, filled with rocks?" he joked.
The cheetah rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, sure. But seriously, standard rules apply. Your food and supplies are in the top section of the package. Don't open the bottom section. The customer is expecting the delivery and will take the items off your hands when you arrive. You'll find your tent in there too and we'll send you off with some winter gear as well."
The wolf was stunned. Tent? Winter gear?
"Wait, just how far is this delivery?" Brock asked, suddenly nervous.
"Far up into northern mountains. Don't worry, you'll be sent off with an enchanted compass so you can't get lost. Expect the delivery to take at least three weeks. But the return trip should be a bit faster because most of the backpack's weight in the package."
"The mountains!", the wolf exclaimed. "I'm a delivery boy, not a pioneer. Aren't deliveries this far usually sent via portal magic?"
The cheetah sighed deeply as though he were already terribly bored of this tedious conversation.
"Yes. Well observed. A gold star for you. Except, portal magic only works in places where there are... wait for it... portals. Which the northern mountains don't have. Hence the need for a courier."
Trying on the tall backpack for size, Brock hedged uncomfortably.
"Still... I'm not sure about this. You're saying it'll be months before I return. What if I get into trouble out there? No one will know something is wrong until weeks after I got trapped under an avalanche or something."
The cheetah pinned him with a hard look but eventually shrugged, somewhat sympathetically.
"Listen, it's a risky job. No doubt about it. But you'll be back in six weeks and this job's rate is six months pay." Seeing Brock's eyes go wide at the figure, the oversee pressed on. "Yep, that's half a year's pay for a single job. If you ask me, that much pay is worth a little risk. But it's your call. If you don't want to do it, I'll get one of the other boys to do it. I was just offering it to you first because I thought you were the kind of wolf who was trying to get ahead in life."
Foolishly, the wolf agreed and a few days hike later he at the foot of the mountain range. He shivered in his thick coat and cursed himself an idiot for agreeing to job.
He figured he didn't need to worry about muggings this far north. But now there were whole new dangers before him. Many of which he'd never faced or even considered before. Like slipping on the ice and falling to his death. Or having his warmth-enchanted tent get blown away and dying to exposure.
But there was no turning back now so he pressed onward. As the days trudged on his backpack started feeling heavier and heavier he passed the time trying to imagine what could possibly be so important that you had to pay a courier to haul it up a mountain.
Books? A year's worth of letters? ...Lead bowling balls? Whatever he was carrying, Brock figured they had to be worth a ton because they certainly weighed a ton.
The only silver lining was that the scenery was beautiful. He only realized how ugly the city was now that he was this far away from it. Here, out in nature, everything looked so tranquil but also wild and free. The frost covered trees. The snow covered hills. Mountains rising up before him majestically.
Checking his compass one last time to ensure he was in the right place, Brock began the slow climb up the inclined path. At first it was difficult to be sure whether or not his altitude was actually changing. But after a few more days of this the wolf only had to look over the side of the road to see the plummeting cliff face. The ground which represented the mountain range's base got farther and farther away by the hour.
Each evening the sun would disappear behind the mountains and so Brock would be forced to stop for the day. Making progress at night was tempting but far too dangerous, the wolf decided. One wrong step and down the mountain he'd go!
His provisions were filling if a bit boring and despite the bland taste of dried fruits and meats, Brock was more than happy to eat on the company's dime.
By the end of the second week, the wolf thought the sky appeared as though it were threatening a snow storm. This made the young man fret because the compass only told him told him which direction to go and not how long it would be until he got there. One day later, light snow had begun to fall around him and so Brock was pushing himself as hard as he could.
Better to arrive at his destination tired than not arrive at all. And not being wise in the ways of the wilderness, the wolf had no idea whether his enchanted tent would hold up to a full blown blizzard. Besides, he recalled hearing before that mountain snow storms could last for days. And so he pushed on even as the sun began to set.
Just when things were starting to look dicey, Brock spotted a light off in the distance. With the snow beginning to pile up around his boots he trudged the final miles to reach that faint beacon.
Sure enough and with immense relief, the wolf found himself at what looked like the opening to a cave which had been sealed off with a sturdy wooden entrance, complete with door. A lantern hung from an iron fixture which had been hammered into the rock.
Sparing a final glance at his compass, Brock smiled when he saw the glowing needle pointing directly at the door.
Raising a tired arm, the wolf knocked on the door three times with his mitted hand and waited. And waited.
Then, just as he was about to knock again, the door opened.
A huge polar bear poked his head out of the door and regarded him for a long moment. Then the man practically yelled into snowy darkness, "Get inside. Hurry up, before chill leeches heat away."
Eager to comply, Brock followed the man who had disappeared behind the thick wooden door. Once inside, the wolf moved to push the door closed and found he could barely move it. The polar bear placed a hand above his head and helped him push. Together they closed the door against a sudden powerful wind coming down from the mountain's peak.
Brock turned around to get a better look at the man but instead his attention was seized but the unexpected grandeur of the polar bear's mountainside dwelling. Manor indeed. Rather than cramped damp cave walls, the insides of manor looked like a noble's estate, complete with hardwood floors and high ceilings where ornate light fixtures hung.
Catching the courier's attention, the bear demanded, "Off those damp clothes. Hang them from hooks there. Don't worry. Wood has been treated for moisture."
Rather than being content to just wait, however, the bear insisted on helping by tugging the backpack off and then literally stripping the wolf out of his clothes.
"Wait, stop!", Brock stammered as the mature bear pulled his underwear down to his ankles. "Not my underwear!"
"Yes, underwear too," the bear said as though addressing a small child. "All is wet and stinks of travel. You take shower soon anyway. Strip now is better."
"A shower? Now?" the wolf asked, extremely uncomfortable at being manhandled by the bear that he now stood naked before. In contrast, the white furred man stood dressed in dark colored evening robes, a thick sash tied loosely around his expansive waist. The man must have been preparing for bed when he arrived, the wolf considered.
"Yes, a shower. You wish to stay until blizzard passes? Then you must shower."
The polar bear took the young wolf's arm in hand and pulled him along into the innards of the fancy dwelling. Brock tried to protest and pull back but the polar bear was three times his size and dragged him along effortlessly.
It was a surreal experience for Brock as he tried to hold his ground only to be pulled forward as though he weighed nothing at all. The gulf between their respective strength and stature was absurd and the wolf quickly gave up the fight upon realizing that he'd only hurt his own arm in a pointless tug-o-war he had no hope of winning. For his part, the bear didn't even seem to notice when the wolf stopped resisting.
Three hallways and various doors later, they arrived in a well lit bathroom which was bigger than the wolf's bedroom back home. Brock had not seen a shower before but had heard of them. Apparently nobles did not wish to sit in water soiled by their own body and so insisted upon endless fresh water pouring forth from a raised spigot. This struck the wolf as being ridiculously indulgent.
Impatiently, the bear instructed him in the showers use.
"Turn this lever here. The further you turn it, the hotter water gets. If water gets too hot, turn it back. Stay under for ten minutes. Use towel when done."
Not waiting to see if Brock understood his instructions the bear left, mumbling something about getting back to a boiling stew.
Now the wolf stood naked in a wealthy stranger's house.
As it turned out, there was a reason nobles liked showers. Brock found the device to be wondrous. Never before had he been able to control the temperature of the water in which he washed himself. Never before had he experienced exquisitely heated water cascade down his head, shoulders, and back. It was such an amazing experience that the wolf momentarily forgot about his intimidating host.
Brock scrubbed himself thoroughly under the water as he imagined days' worth of dust and dirt washing off his fur and down the drain. Wistfully, he turned off the shower's flow, grabbed the nearby towel, and thoroughly dried himself off.
The wolf then looked around for a change of clothes but wasn't terribly surprised when he didn't find any. What were the odds of such a big man having a spare set of clothes which fit him?
Brock then left the shower room, bare paws gingerly stepping on hardwood floor as he examined his surroundings in awe. Every detail of the abode spoke of incredible wealth. The architecture. The decoration. Even the high-quality materials used in the construction of this mountain-side dwelling. No wonder the bear could afford to have a package hand delivered this far out from civilization.
As the delivery boy stepped quietly down various halls he eventually came upon the man. The bear was in a room that looked similar to the shower room, except instead of a shower there was a basin of water which stood in front of a pillar. From the top of this pillar water flowed from a nozzle into a sink embedded into it and, like the shower, the water then disappeared down the drain.
The man did not notice Brock, his attention focused on the mirror before him as he flossed his teeth. The polar bear's teeth were large, colored a bright shade of pearl, perfectly aligned, and the man took great care in cleaning them one by one.
But the teenager wished he had spoken up when the bear set down the floss, unfastened his robe's sash, and proceeded to piss into the basin. Brock blushed hotly as he found himself witness to the man relieving himself, the bear's bright red endowment draped over the edge porcelain sink. A powerful stream of urine arched down into the drain.
It only took a few seconds of observation for Brock to catch himself and quick-step around the corner so that a wall stood between him and the man. But a few seconds was all it took for the image of the man's member to be permanently etched in the courier's memory.
The polar bear's privates were notably different than his own and the wolf couldn't help but make comparisons even as he tried to shake the unwelcome image out of his head. Even soft it had been imposing in both length and girth. But that hadn't been especially surprising given the man's huge body. What had been shocking was its color and lack of sheath.
Brock's own much smaller member was pink and could only be seen when he was aroused or in the morning when he first woke up. The bear's, on the other hand, had been a brilliant shade of crimson and lay completely exposed when not hidden away behind clothes. For some reason the young man found this to be perverse, as if the man's genitals had a deviant desire to be seen.
The youth snapped himself out of this disturbing line of thinking and was just about to knock on the outside wall to announce his presence when he heard the man speak. At first Brock jumped in place, assuming he'd been spotted and the man was now addressing him. Instead, the wolf soon understood the bear to be talking to himself. Or... wait... not to himself. To his... penis?
"Now, now, red one. You must wait. Time is not right, yes? Getting big and plump does no good now. You will scare the boy off. Be patient and your time will come. Such a pampered life you will live. Much pleasure in your future. So for now, you must remain soft. Soft and patient, yes."
Brock didn't completely follow what the man was getting at but he had street smarts enough to know that this was a bad situation. With night having already fallen and the blizzard beginning to rage outside, the wolf faced the very real possibility of being trapped in this house with a crazy man. A crazy man who talked to his own cock like it was a person.
The wolf left as quietly as he could. He decided the first step was to look for his clothes and supplies. With winter gear, the blizzard was incredibly dangerous but survivable. Without winter gear, the blizzard was a death sentence. Brock needed options which meant he needed to track down what the polar bear took from him.
Thankfully, the man had not bothered to hide anything. A few minutes of exploration later and Brock found all of his possessions neatly stacked in the corner of what looked like a dining room. He breathed a deep sigh of relief.
This sense of relief lasted right up until the polar bear walked in behind him, the robed man towering over himself. Again the jittery wolf leapt in place.
"I fright you?" the man asked, in his deep, heavily accented english. "Not intention. Apologies for that. Here, warm yourself. Hot soup. Fresh from pot."
Deciding it would likely be considered insulting to his giant host if he refused, Brock mumbled his gratitude and took a seat at the table. He positioned himself so that he could keep an eye on his possessions. He thought it was foolish that he allowed himself to get separated from them in the first place and it was a mistake he didn't plan on repeating.
He ate as quickly as he dared, barely tasting the soup. Had he stopped to think about it, he would have likely found it quite delicious but the delivery boy had other things demanding his attention. Such as the way the polar bear stood over by the nearby wall, silently watching him eat. And how the man's sash hadn't been properly tied after pissing into the basin, granting Brock an unfortunately clear view of the estate owner's beat-red shaft.
As Brock slurped down the soup, the man's cock began to harden, transitioning from soft and flaccid to hard and turgid. Within a couple minutes it jutted out obscenely from between the folds of his robe, massive and streaked by a few well pronounced veins. The wolf thought the man might tuck the thing away in embarrassment but as the minutes ticked by he made no effort to hide himself. Rather, his hefty member just went on bobbing in the air, hot and needy.
The teen was deciding what to do when he saw the man lick his lips hungrily. That settled it. He had to get out of here. Brock wasn't sure if the man wanted to fuck him, eat him, or both. But either way, it was time to leave.
"Actually, I think I should probably be going now."
Facing the blizzard now seemed like the safer bet, all things considered.
"You cannot. The blizzard has grown intense. Besides, you will fall asleep soon. I would not wish you to pass out on the road and slip down mountain before I could retrieve you."
"Oh, I don't think I could possibly sleep. I've never been this..." The wolf wanted to say 'nervous', or 'unsettled' but not wanting to offend the massive white furred bear he said, "Wound up".
"You misunderstand. Your soup has medicine. You will sleep soon. No helping it."
Brock's blood turned as cold as the storm raging outside.
"You... did what?"
"I've been awaiting you for many months now. I wish to get started. No more delays, yes? Lots to do. Better if you're asleep while I prepare you. Easier."
Rising from the table, the delivery boy demanded, "What the hell are you talking about? Just what did you have me haul up the mountain?"
The wolf suddenly imagined his backpack being packed with occult tools used for sacrifice. Or expensive cutlery to be used in a cannibalistic ritual. Maybe the bear truly did plan to eat him after all.
The bear shrugged at him. Then hefted the backpack onto the table and pulled an unseen tab, spilled out its contents onto the table. Rocks of various dimensions fell and rolled about. They ranged in size from tiny marbles to fist sized chunks of what looked like granite.
He recalled his stupid joke to his boss. He'd been right and hadn't even known it. Fury and shock battled within him as he thought about how much time, effort, and sweat he'd spent hauling a bunch of stupid rocks up a mountain.
"You misunderstand. You are the delivery."
Brock was starting to feel woozy, which he would have been more concerned about had he not been so thoroughly confused.
"What? That doesn't make any sense. Why would they send me off with..."
Then he understood. The company had sold him off. Suddenly the disappearance rate of couriers made perfect sense. That fucking cheetah and the company were selling off boys like they were products. Products which could be bartered and sold off to further line their greedy pockets. He was meat, bought and paid for. Meat to be butchered, prepared, and.... And eaten.
The polar bear waved a large hand through the air as if dismissing the question.
"All will make sense when you wake. Your place will be made clear. You will see."
Sleep was beginning to overtake him and Brock fell to his knees even as he fought back against the encroaching darkness.
"You... you're going to eat me?"
The bear regarded him, confusion registering on his face.
"Eat you? No. How you arrive at this thought? If anything...," the bear paused, scratching his nose as he smiled mischievously. "Maybe soon you eat me. Tasty polar bear meat for you to enjoy, yes?"
The polar bear took that opportunity to take his raging erection in hand and shake it the boy. The massive red thing flexed and rebounded as the man waved it about like a baton. Brock's vision began to dim and all he could see was the veined red pole wagging as the rest of the world grew dark around it.
Oh no. He couldn't mean...
And then Brock fell asleep.
======================
The wolf woke up in stages and it took many minutes before he was aware enough to look around.
His thoughts were a jumbled mess but one thought shone through all the others like the beam from a lighthouse.
"I'm in danger. I have to escape."
Brock tried to rise to do just that only to fall immediately off balance and land on his chin. Something was different. His body felt... off. Wrong.
Shifting his body weight to look at his hand, the wolf found himself staring at a black paw. Not a hand but a black, almost rubber-like paw. This paw was attached to feral leg which was attached to...
The delivery boy looked down to see three more dark hued feral legs. Gone were his previous arms and legs, now replaced with these... these artificial rubber limbs. Brock tried to move his legs anyway only to see and feel the rear feral legs move. He tried the same with arms and the front two legs kicked and moved.
Gone were his hands, fingers, opposable thumbs. It was at this point that the courier caught sight of the mirror which had been set up to his side, presumably for this purpose. What Brock saw wasn't a young boy who worked long hours for minimal pay. He saw a feral looking back at him with his own eyes.
The wolf proceeded to try to shout for help out of desperation and panic but the only noises he managed to produce were barks, yips, whimpers, and growls.
This racket quickly drew the attention of the big white polar bear who stomped into the room.
"Pet makes so much noise! What is the fire?" The man said this with a smile, as if enjoying Brock's intense reaction to his transformation.
The boy could only bark at the bear, angrily.
"Stop with the yap, yap, yap," the man chided. "You were not harmed. I am mage, see? Very experienced. Best mage of north! I am golemancer. Golemancy. I enchant those legs. Feel real, yes? Also specialize in portal magic. You limbs are still attached. They are just now, how you say... tucked away in portal dimension? You know of bags of holding?"
Golemancy? Portal magic? The wolf had no idea what the man was talking about. Unable to talk he shook his head 'no'.
"Ahh. Here, I show you."
The bear fetched what looked like a brown leather bag from inside a nearby desk. Then, holding it up for Brock to see, the bear pushed his entire thick arm down into the back. Down, down, down, until the mage's broad shoulder was touching the lip of the bag. Which didn't make any sense because the bag should barely have fit the bear's clenched fist.
"There, you see? Portal magic. Arm still there. Still attached. Just in portal. I do this to you. Then I attach golem limbs. You will relearn how to walk. Then trot around like happy puppy. Will be good, yes?"
Brock barked at the happy bear again, expressing his displeasure clearly.
"Oh, hush now. Will be good. You will see. You will be played with and pampered and I will have company while I work. The north can get very lonely, yes? Now there will be pitter-patter of puppy paws running around my home. Much better than before."
The wolf stood unsteadily on his four new 'golem' legs and found it incredibly unsettling how he could feel unseen muscles clench and release within the rubber limbs. Then Brock caught the bear by surprise as he darted past the man and through the door.
The man made an earnest effort to grab him as the wolf sped past his powerful legs but with his arm still trapped in the magical bag, the bear reached out with an arm that wasn't there before realizing his mistake. Instead, he swung a useless stub in the teenager's direction and, in that moment of confusion, Brock was out and gone.
Hearing angry shouts from behind him, the wolf knew better than to stop running. He barreled down the hallways as fast as he couldn't manage without tripping over himself and some portion of him was amazed at the size of the mountain side manor. It really was a mansion encased in minerals and rock.
Brock didn't stop running until he reached the front door. And then, not knowing what else to do, he paws at the thick wood pathetically with his two front paws. Part of him hoped it was only partially latched and might push open. Another part prayed that it was a magical door which would open itself upon prompting.
But the rational part of Brock knew his gamble had already failed. As far as he knew, this was the only way in or out of the manor and it was closed shut. There were no windows in the underground dwelling. Unable to stand to reach the doorknob and with no hands to grasp it, the wolf could only paw at the door and whine pathetically.
The bear came around the corner, panting and out of breath.
"Bad puppy," the man growled. "I was talking, yes? Also, new rule: No run indoors. Puppy paws are meant for pitter-patter, not stomp-stomp-stomp."
Brock turned away from the closed door and once more growled at the man. He wanted to shout and curse the man but was once more unable to form the words.
The burly mage crossed his arms and shook his head.
"You are grumpy only because this is new. Unexpected, yes? You thought to drop off package and leave. Now you stay here where I am master and you are pet. A shock to you, I know. But you will adjust. I am kind master, you will see. Take good care of you. Give you... what is word? Affection. Give you much affection."
That's when Brock remembered the man saying something about feeding him 'tasty polar bear meat'. Now there was this talk about having him keep the older man 'company' and receiving the man's 'affection'. The wolf wasn't stupid and it didn't take much imagination to realize what the man had in store for him.
Brock whimpered, shook his head in wide-eyed fear, and backed away until his tail bone hit the door.
"No reason for fear, my lovely pet. You will come around. We have plenty of time. Many years together, yes?"
The wolf hadn't been thinking past the next few minutes and this statement forced him to consider the scope of timeline the mage was considering. And with bone chilling certainty, Brock began to understand that the polar bear was serious.
He had every intention of keeping the young courier here as his live-in pet. Armless. Legless. Bound in this feral position with artificial limbs forcing him onto all fours. And, unable to speak, Brock wondered how the man imagined them passing the time. Years alone, just the two of them in this cozy mountain dwelling. Or rather, the wolf suspected the bear already had ideas on how they might pass the time.
The mage saw that the fearful pet's eyes were not looking up at his but rather locked fearfully on his crotch, as if some poisonous serpent lay coiled there waiting to strike. Mentally, he nodded to himself as intuited that the wolf suspected what the future held for him.
"We will take our time, puppy. You have nothing to fear from me. I am kind owner. You will see. You still fret? Then how about we make a deal. My vow to you. Yours to me."
Brock's eyes darted back and forth from the towering man's hands to his clothed crotch. He was only half listening to the mage and was trying to calculate his odds of being able to dart around the giant's legs when the polar bear inevitably reached out to grab him.
"The deal is simple. I will not lay a hand on you until you bless me with permission. You, in turn, will not chew, claw, or otherwise damage my property. Starting now. I see you left claw marks on the door's wood and while this makes me weep, I forgive. Young puppies are known to be excitable and so I forget this."
The boy turned feral glanced up at the man, his eyes disbelieving and reproachful. Brock barked unhappily.
"You do not believe me? You shame me puppy. My word is my pride. Still, you've no need to agree. I will stand by what I said. Wander the house as you wish. Explore. Smell. Play. Be at peace. Master will not interfere. Indeed, I will leave out food and water. No harm shall come to you."
Brock barked again, half in displease and half in question.
"You want to know why I would do this? Is fair question. I set these terms because I am sure that you will come around. As I say before, the north is lonely, yes? I have already long awaited your arrival. Months I anticipated your appearance at my door with your silly bag of rocks. I am prepared to wait longer. You will tell me when you are ready. Not with words, of course. Would be odd if puppy talked! Strange indeed."
"Now I leave you be. No more scratching, yes? I warn you not to break our deal. Bad dogs get taken to the Hidden Room. Spend hours regretting their choices. You do not wish this, trust me."
And just like that, the polar bear left the voiceless wolf-turned-feral to his own devices, apparently confident that there was no way the delivery boy would be able to get the front door open.
Of course, Brock also had to consider the fact that even if he managed to escape, he had no supplies, no hands, no clothes, and so would be doomed to perish from either exposure or predation as he had no way to defend himself.
It was a painful realization to understand that even if the door suddenly swung wide open, running through it and away from the bear would only result in an unpleasant death on the snow-covered mountain.
Brock growled to himself unhappily and then looked over his feral legs. They were so strange. Not only could he feel through them, the polished wood floor under his paws, he could feel inside them. If the form factor wasn't so foreign to him, if he closed his eyes he could almost pretend they were real limbs. But looking down at the black rubber-like legs, they were clearly artificial and not the least bit organic.
The wolf tried to reach out with his mind and feel his real limbs but they were cut off from his senses. He recalled the bag of holding the bear had showed him and thought this must be powerful magic indeed. And powerful magic meant expensive magic. Which meant, the large man must have spent the equivalent of thousands of gold coins to transform him like this. Into a near helpless feral.
But why do this? Why kidnap him and turn him into a four legged house pet? Brock decided he already knew the question. The man didn't just want a simple house pet. The delusional mage wanted a pet he could... enjoy. The wolf wasn't stupid. Even though he was only a teenager, he could read between the lines. The polar might pretend to be polite and patient but Brock was sure it was just a matter of time before the brute's sexual appetites overcame his restraint.
Brock hadn't been tricked into delivering himself just to provide an older man with platonic companionship. Brock was here to get fucked. Long, hard, and vigorously. Not to mention repeatedly, based on what the bear said. The mage seemed inclined to keep him trapped him for an indefinite stretch of time. Which was terrible news indeed because as things stood, the boy couldn't run or hide. And the idea of fighting back while trapped in these rubber feral legs would have been comical if the situation wasn't so dire.
The delivery boy shook his head and decided that if he was to have any hope of escape, he had to get serious and focus. Deciding on a course of action, he first checked around the corner to ensure that the bear wasn't directly keeping tabs on him. But, true to his word, the man had withdrawn deeper into the manor. Being a mage, Brock wondered if perhaps he had a workshop of some sort back there. Then again, there had been mention of a "secret room". The wolf dreaded to imagine what might go on in there.
With the most direct avenue of escape blocked off, the teenager retreated back into the room with the mirror. As he moved, his initial steps were wobbly and unsure but he managed to adapt to his new feral legs with worrying ease. Brock didn't know if this was due to some form of magic or because of some lingering instinct inherited down from ancient times.
Some scholars said that modern furred kind who walked on two legs descended from ferals. But who knew if that was true because scholars said lots of crazy things, like the earth was round and that the sun didn't actually revolve around the earth. Which was stupid because even a simple minded child could look up into the sky and see the sun's slow rotation through the sky.
Finding the mirror, Brock carefully examined himself. The black furless legs were amazing feats of magical engineering. The wolf understood his earlier estimate that this enhancement would have cost a noble thousands of gold coins to be a massive understatement. This realization only served to unnerve him further because it meant that the polar bear had to have prepared a long time for this day and must have decided it was worth the cost. And the only way such a ludicrous expenditure would be worth the cost was if the result paid off somehow.
The wolf continued to examine his body and had almost concluded that only his arms and legs had been altered when something between his legs caught his eye. Or rather, the absence of something. Brock spotted his exposed balls which looked normal enough, though a bit too 'out in the open' for his taste as they dangled and swayed between the artificial black thighs. But, bizarrely and somewhat terrifyingly, his sheathe was nowhere to be found. Instead, a flat black disc the size of a large coin resided in its place.
The boy's first thought was that the bear had unmanned him and he was now fated to live out the rest of his life penisless and pathetic. But after a few panic breaths, Brock decided that his member must be hidden away inside a fifth bag of holding. To confirm this, the wolf paused, forced himself to relax, and voided his bladder. Sure enough, he felt the familiar sense of urine rushing unseen through his body. Only, no liquid manifested from between his legs. He took this as proof that somewhere out there his masculinity was still safe and sound.
Brock was about to put the unsettling discovery out of his head for the time being when he felt an unseen hand rudely grip his missing cock. The wolf yelped in surprise which came out as an alarmed bark. The boy looked around to see who or what was molesting him but spotted nothing which might explain the sensation of a ghostly hand on his privates.
As the rude groping continued, the courier puzzled out what must be happening. Wherever his penis resided, the polar bear must have access to it. Which meant already the mage was breaking his spoken vow! The man's oath had been that he would not lay a hand on the wolf. And yet his own actions prove him a liar!
But Brock's righteous indignation did not stop the unseen hand from stroking and playing with his likewise absent shaft. The wolf could only whimper as he felt himself grow hard within the polar bear's teasing grip. The touch felt... vexingly good. Sensual and familiar as though the older male knew exactly what he was doing as he began masturbating the teenager.
The hand moved up and down his shaft, slowly at first but faster and faster with every stroke. Brock saw his panting, needy face in the mirror and blushed furiously. His rubber legs wobbled underneath him as he struggled to maintain his composure against rhythmic masturbation which forced sexual pleasure upon him that was as intense as it was unwelcome.
For several minutes Brock simply stood there and took it, his mind unable to fathom a plan for how he might combat the mystical invasion of his personal space. But eventually he did force his legs to move, having decided to confront the polar bear directly so the man might see in his eyes the words he was prevented from saying aloud. Oath breaker.
On four legs, the wolf strode angrily down the mountain home even as he was played with. He kept his chin up, defiant, not wishing the mage to see how compromised he felt by the invasive touch which he was powerless to prevent.
He turned several corners, looking poking his head into rooms as he tried to spot the man. Thankfully the household seemed barren of doors when it came to the inside of the manor. This allowed Brock to swiftly rule out room after room as he passed by a variety of bedrooms, studies, smoking dens, and guest parlors. Finally, the 'feral' wolf came upon the room the bear had retreated to.
Brock very nearly barked at the man, readying himself to put as much as accusation as he could muster in the noise. But the vocalization caught in his throat as he actually looked into the room.
Rather than being just another bedroom, this appeared to be the master bedroom. It was expensively furnished as befitted a master magician including a large bed frame which dominated one side of the expansive square footage. The polar bear lay on this bed but rather than playing with the delivery boy's cock, which Brock had been certain would be the case, the bear was in fact openly enjoying his own body's pleasures.
Eyes closed, the huge man's hand worked up and down his plainly visible shaft. It was now an imposing cudgel of meat which poked into the air, thick and fat headed. Just as before, it was a bright red color which made it stand out in stark contrast to the man's white furred hand. The man moaned softly under his breath as he jerked himself off, entirely unaware of Brock's presence.
As for the wolf... he felt every touch. Every sensation. Every brush of the hand as it made its way up and down the daunting proportioned pole. When the man's grip brushed over the thick, round cockhead, Brock's body was convinced that it was his own member's tip which was being squeezed.
Suddenly terrified of being spotted, the wolf retreated to just around the corner as he tried to puzzle out what this meant. But it was so hard to think with the groaning, grunting polar bear forcing him to experience every touch and sensation that he visited upon himself. From the teenager's point of view, it was his own cock which was being pumped and teased. He would never have believed otherwise had he not seen the truth for himself.
Was the polar bear still an oath breaker? By the spirit of the oath, yes. But perhaps not by its explicit letter. At least, as far as the mage was concerned. And with his voice stolen from him, Brock would not be granted the opportunity to voice a contrary point of view. Feeling more powerless than ever, the delivery boy could only stand there, legs wobbling, and take it.
Stroke after stroke after stroke after stroke. The polar bear was evidently in no hurry to finish himself off Brock was made to endure the man's touch as he felt a wave of pleasure build within him. The wolf had no way to measure time but after what felt like over a half hour of listening to man work himself, the boy was borderline desperate for the climactic end to arrive. He might have taken matters into his own hand just to slate his rampant teenager lust but, with no hand and no cock, that option had been taken from him.
Finally, his mind a white hot mess of need and pleasure, Brock felt his -- and the older man's -- climax upon him. Wolf balls drawing up to spew their seed, the slack-jawed courier mindlessly humped the open air as his whole body geared up for the grand release and then... nothing.
Well, not nothing. The polar bear in the room over roared his climax which had been long in the making. But Brock was left only with his powerful, unfulfilled need. All sensation had ceased and his orgasm, which moments ago had felt inevitable, stopped cold in its tracks. The teen was so stunned by this abrupt denial that he did not notice the polar bear's approach until the man was already upon him.
Cum-smeared cock swinging out before him, the man looked down at the confused, panting puppy in mild surprise.
"Ahh, puppy. You were scared to come in? No need to be. You live here now. Free to come and go as you please. If curious, come and watch. Hop on bed. Get close. See master enjoy himself. I am not shy. Not ashamed of body, like valley people."
This was plainly true because the polar bear didn't seem the least bit embarrassed for the wolf to see his dangling, slowly shrinking tool. Instead, he regarded the wolf who seemed so out of sorts. Confused, frustrated, and clearly very horny.
"You came to understand? Is my pet confused by what he feels?"
To exhausted to try to debate the matter, Brock simply nodded. His balls ached with unspent seed and more than anything he just wanted answers. What had happened? Why was this done to him? What did the large framed brute want from him?
The polar bear smiled at him, his face a satisfied mask of patience. He couldn't help but notice that his great white belly was likewise smeared in long ropes of his seed. The scent tickled Brock's sensitive nose.
"Is simple. Bad for puppy to hump furniture or piddle on wood floor, so I take care of this. No penis, no trouble. Yes? Yet, also unfair to strip handsome male of his sexuality. True, I considered this. But decided against. So we compromise. From now on, you and I share one pleasure. My pleasure. Is fair."
Now Brock did bark, loudly and angrily. This was not fair. This was the opposite of fair!
"Hush! Hush your yapping. Master is not finished explaining. You upset you did not finish, yes? That climax denied."
He barked again, trying to emphasize his frustration and contempt. How dare this mage do this to him? No answer the man could provide would satisfy him, yet he still had to know. Why! How!
"I am not stupid. As say before, best mage of north! Smarter than look. Truth is, young boys like you have no desire to play in older man's bed. No reason to give attention to your master. So, I must give you reason. Yes? From now on, pet cannot cum unless help. No touch, no cum. You must earn release. Understand? Even then, is not sure thing. Make me spew, maybe you spew. Maybe not. Roll of dice. Work hard. Be good pet. Make master happy. Eventually you cum alongside master."
Comprehension dawning as he deciphered the bear's odd english, Brock felt an involuntary growl rise in his throat. This... this was too much. What the mage was describing broke every law of man, nature, and morality.
But the bear did not seem to take offense. Rather, he seemed to have expected this reaction from the boy.
"I understand anger. So much change so quickly. Hard for a young boy. Yesterday, free puppy. Today, pampered pet. I will be patient. Have given oath, yes? In time, you will adjust. If takes days, it takes days. If months, then months. But eventually... As I say, we share pleasure. I engineer situation so you have no choice. In time, you join this old man in his comfy bed. Unless you are already open to idea?"
Upon saying this the mage took his limp yet still girthy dick in and waved it towards the wolf, as though he were trying to entice the boy to take it into his muzzle and lick it clean of the pearly white substance.
Pampered pet? How fucking dare he, Brock inwardly raged. He barked once more, the utterance full of spite, and ran back the way he came.
Behind him, he heard a deep and powerful full-body laugh chase him down the hallway. The man found his petulant reaction both endearing and predictable. The merry noise set the wolf's teeth on edge. He ran away faster, trying and failing to escape the sound.
Four feral legs sped Brock away. Yet no matter how many rooms he darted past, he could not escape. Not this place. Not his anger or frustration. Not his need or pent up desire. And worst of all, not the polar bear's possessive touch on his penis which followed him as he ran.
In slow, casual strokes he man began wiping away cum the wolf didn't shoot from an orgasm the wolf hadn't been permitted. When Brock felt his cock -- no, the man's cock -- begin to harden again only to be gripped and methodically pumped once more, he experienced true fear. But as the sensations continued, anger and fear gave way to pleasure and need. Raw, primal, and completely out of his control.
By the time the polar bear had his fill many hours later, content and sated, the wolf was very nearly an emotional wreck of sexual frustration. And long after the satisfied bear had fallen into deep restful slumber, Brock continued to fruitlessly hump a piece of furniture in a sad attempt to pry the black magic disc off his crotch.
In his head he saw the disc popping off, his rock hard dick flopping out from its mystical cage. And he saw himself spewing the largest load of his life, all over the expensive furniture and the fancy wooden floors. The orgasm would go on and on as he howled into the night. Brock kept this desperate hope alive as his artificial legs continued to hump far longer than feeble organic legs would have able to.
Elsewhere in the house, a needy wolf package floated in the air behind a display case's set of runed glass panes. The pink knotted member throbbed and dripped, having spent the last several hours putting on a show. Flexing and twitching and throbbing and dripping. The show continued on into the night, unwatched and unappreciated, until the wolf cock eventually wilted back into its sheath in defeat, unsatisfied and longing for a climax which would not come.
At which point the runed display case, magically detecting the dormancy of its occupant, dimmed the lights until such time as the next show began. In the meantime, the pedestal would perform its other duties, keeping both the displayed object and the display case itself tidy and clean. The display case did not care whether anyone actually watched the show. It would perform its job admirably regardless. Day after day, week after week, month after month.
Eventually someone would want to want to watch the knotted cock dance and twitch. And when that time came, the display case would be ready. The lighting, temperature, and humidity would all be perfect. The display case golem would see to it. If the future observer wanted the lights turned up, it would happily accommodate. Just as it would assist if the observer wanted the object rotated or turned.
Until then, the display case would watch alone in the hidden room, serving as an audience of one as the wolf cock swelled and shrank repeatedly as time ticked by. Sometimes the thing would also make yellow water and this too was fine. The golem would turn on the lights just the same, though it found the twitching more interesting than the water making.
Regardless, the golem enjoyed its simple purpose. Its peaceful life. Its new, drippy occupant.