FSE

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Stepping inside the cave, my nose wrinkled at the pungent scent. The fiend's lair certainly had his stink. Even if they didn't void themselves in their homes--not being savage enough to shit where they eat--the place reeked of the beast's acrid musk. My heightened senses made the smell even worse. My heightened sense of hearing caught his rumbling breath deeper inside the cave. I had found the fiend sleeping. Thank fuck.

I slung my silver sword off my back, careful to stay quiet as I unsheathed the sword and oiled my blade. Witchers only survived by winning a fight before it even started. I then uncorked some of the Cat I had brought with me, downing the small bottle of black liquid. My cat's eyes dilated immediately, and the snow outside the cave became painful to look at as it shined in the sun. The potion would keep the fiend from hypnotizing me, which was perhaps more critical than even bringing the right sword to the fight. I took a deep breath, then entered the cave.

Hopping from a ledge and into the main chamber, I heard the breathing of the beast stop on a sudden inhalation. A light sleeper. Just my luck. He slept in a chamber adjacent to the one I stood in, which was no more than twenty paces in diameter. I considered if I wanted to trade a confined space for the slippery footing of the snows outside.

Fiend made the choice for me. He lumbered out his den into the main chamber. With the Cat, even in the dark, I saw the beast clearly as he rose to his full height. His antlered, deer like muzzle slobbering with two large, front fangs and three eyes; the one in the center of his head swiveled to examine me while the other two surveyed the rest of the chamber. The fiend walked on all fours like a gorilla, his back legs cloven-hooved like a satyrs, and his arms ended in large, clawed hands that had the same range of motion as a man's. He was all bristling muscle along his dark, thin coat of fur. On all fours he was about eight feet tall, long as a horse, shoulders broader than a buffalo's.

He sized me up longer than I expected. Intensely territorial fiends. Didn't even let necrophages pick at the edges of their territory. So why did this one--

The beast finally charged. I managed to dive away as one of its claws carved furrows in the stone where I had been. I came forward and whipped my sword across the fiend's side. The blade bit through flesh and scraped across his barrel rib cage. He howled as the oil on my blade and the silver made his wound blister and sizzle. The fiend flailed at me, which was easy enough to backpedal from. I put distance between us and found my back against the cave wall again. I was of two minds this fight: make him bleed until he fled his nest then track him and finish him off, or let him keep charging and attacking until he was too tired and cut up to stop me from making a killing blow. In any case, my best bet was to conserve my energy, stay in control of what the beast did.

The fiend surprised me again. He lingered in his pain, then faced me and sat down on his haunches. The beast watched me with all three eyes, its third one beginning to glow red with magic. I felt a pressure behind my brow, like the pain of a migraine headache.

He was trying to hypnotize me, but the Cat potion I took kept his intrusions at bay. The beast did not move. Just stared me down and kept working on my mental defenses. A corkscrew digging into my brow. I knew his plan and hefted my sword. When I started to cross the room the fiend came for me again. I ducked a swipe from his massive hand and raked his thigh. I could have gored him but might have lost my sword in the process. He spun around, staggering from the wound inflicted on his leg. I smacked my chest with my freehand and shouted, "Come on!" He snarled and charged horns down. Another spin, another slash, my sword slicing across his back. Blood steamed on the cave ground as the fiend faced me again. We were both panting. Two monsters locked in a dance of death.

The fiend began pacing the perimeter of the chamber while I waited in its center. I could feel him assessing my stance, trying to pick out a weakness in the bend of my knees, the way I held my blade. Another growl from the fiend. He stopped in front of the tunnel he came from, gave me a long look, then ducked inside the passage.

The bastard was running.

Cursing, I went after him. Deeper into the cave, the light filtered into a grey scale. The Cat working in my favor again, but already the periphery of my view was a bit darker. I only had so much time before the potion wore off.

The tunnel went down at a slope for about thirty paces. The deeper I got to its end the less things smelled of blood of recent kills, and more like the scent of musk. Feral rut. Like a stud marking his territory. It was cloying on my heightened sense of smell--made my eyes water a little. I ignored it and entered another dug out chamber. This one was lined with furs: wolves, bears, deer, no human skins, fortunately. He stood in the back of this chamber. It was some kind of a bedroom, with no exit to it.

Was this some kind of trap?

Fiends usually made dens like this when they wished to bed with a female for the winter. A nest for their spawn. It explained the musk. He had been scenting this room so it would arouse any female passing the cave.

My monster did not attack me. "What's your game?" I asked it. "Lure me down here so you can shove me out of the way and run out the cave?"

The fiend, of course, did not seem capable of understanding me.

"No, you've put so much work into this, haven't you? You're not just going to abandon this lair."

Sword raised, I took a few cautious steps. I could hear his loud, thunderous breath. With his body heat in here, this chamber was warm enough to make me break into a sweat. Still, he did not lunge to attack. I got close enough to strike him. Just step forward and swing my blade. My eyes were on his shoulders and hands, watching for a muscle to tense, listening for a sharp inhalation of breath. From the periphery, I noticed a glow and glanced up.

And it was over.

Perhaps our shared closeness increased the intensity of his gaze, perhaps my Cat had just worn off more than I expected. His third eye glared into my two, lanced through my skull with sharp, numbing pain.

I dropped my sword.

The thick furs muffled its thumping to the ground. The scent of the fiend became sharper, more pronounced. My shoulders went slack and his face leaned into mine. His face was a deer's stretched till the skin nearly broke around the bone, with sharp incisors and fangs for shredding meat. Their jaws, I remember reading, had the strength to snap a femur in two. That thought didn't scare me. Not now. Not when I sensed inside my mind an invasive other. Another consciousness rooted through my skull. It opened and slammed doors, looked through trunks and chests. It was searching for something, but at the same time came a very distinct order.

Strip.

My muscles tensed. I tried to fight it but the best I could do was remain still. He basically asked me to expose my soft underbelly to him. And yet...

Gauntlets first. One fell to the furs, the other. His pleased growl made me shudder. His third eye remained unblinklingly affixed to me. My boots next, tugged off with an awkward hop. The furs against my bare feet were soft and warm. My feet had been sweating so getting them out into the open air was a relief. Next my belt undone, trousers falling in a heap I kicked away. My undergarments a moment later. My cock felt a little heavy. Something strange was happening. The fiend had stopped looting through my mind. It had found something...

Was his musk always so enticing?

With just the smallest flutters of alarm, I felt my cock growing heavier. I sported a semi, half nude in this chamber with a beast.

Stripping, right. That's what mattered. Needed to be bare. Next came off my vambraces. Leather armor fell away, before all that remained was my cuirass. When I began to slide it over my head, I finally broke contact with the beast. And froze up as I realized what I was doing. The fiend sensed our connection break and pinned me to the floor. A single hand, bigger than a bear's paw, held down my stomach while the other ripped my top off. I struggled and kicked in his grip, groping blindly for my sword. All that remained was my witcher's medallion: a bear's head charged with its own magic. I kept my eyes shut so he could not put me under again. I felt that similar corkscrew turning into my head.

I was completely helpless, but he had not killed me yet. A hand closed around my throat. I bucked and kicked beneath him, a flopping fish; I got lucky, though, and managed to kick the slash on his thigh. My heel sank to his bone and came back bloody, but the fiend crumpled under the blow. I scrambled out from under him and opened my eyes. Grabbing my sword, I wheeled around mid-slash but was too slow. He caught my wrist and slammed my back against the rock wall, my silver blade pressed to my throat. And my eyes met his.

He lanced back into my skull.

I sensed his anger. He did not understand why I couldn't just be obedient. He needed me to just submit and let him have his way. Was that so hard? He promised me I would enjoy what he had in mind, and I finally got a flicker of his intent. He knew I was different. Understood that I was not human. More resilient. More malleable.

This time my sword did not fall out of my grip. I clutched it tight, desperately fighting his influence. I would rather he kill me. He knew this, but that wouldn't do. He had me now, and he was not going to let all that work go to waste. He released me and sat back on his haunches. The fiend opened his thighs, and I saw his bestial sheath.

The fiend's eyes stayed locked on mine, but I could not remove my gaze from his cock. It dropped between his thighs, slowly growing with each beat of his heart until its flat head began dripping clear precum. I could just make it out even as the last vestiges of my Cat were leaving my system. And the more the potion withdrew the more powerful the fiend's hold became. Eventually, the room went dark. There was simply the red glow of his third eye and the intoxicating scent of his musk. A witcher's sense of smell was strong enough to track scents long after a person had left a trail. And now, all those heightened senses were overloaded. I could smell his precum as it dripped from the turgid shaft--a salty and sweet heat different from the meatier musk of his cock, the more grounded smell of the fiend's balls, which must have been heavy as a bull's.

Finally, I dropped my sword. In the back of my mind, I heard barely the wisp of a command: Come. An order I did not want to resist at this point. My own bare erection throbbed in the warm cave. I felt him in my mind, twisting his claws deeper. Thoughts I never before considered became impossible to distinguish from reality:

You've always preferred males. You've always been an outsider. In need of a home. This could be a home. A place of pleasure. You've always been curious what it might be like to let a monster have its way with you. You've always wanted someone bigger and stronger to hold you down. To take you. To take away all the petty burdens of your own life, give you a purpose.

Some of these thoughts were mine. Witchers were hated. I was an outsider. But never before had I--

The smell of cock. You can't resist it. Breathe.

I was sitting on my knees between his legs. I could hear his length leaking precum onto the furs, right in front of me. And the smell. It was so very... very enticing. I had always preferred men--their smell and taste, but this monster? I'd been sent here to kill it--

By humans who don't want you. Here you are wanted.

Here I was wanted. I had a home here.

You are happy to be here, with me.

I began panting. A dog, an animal sensing another's heat. My dick twitched and flexed against my belly. I needed him. Needed.

That's it. Taste.

I leaned in, using my sense of smell to lead me to his urethra. My tongue dragged across the head of the beastly cock, coming away coated in slimy precum. The taste made me gasp. The fiend had finally broken his gaze, shut his third eye. But what did he need it for? He invited me back here and I understood his need. I understood what it was he wanted, and I wanted the same.

My hands wrapped around his shaft. It must have been as long as my forearm. Such a brutal organ might have killed a human, but I was something different. I pictured myself having this hot, throbbing thing inside me and moaned. I kissed the tip and began to lick more of that fat head. I let my taste buds swirl across the equine glans, feeling the spongy flesh yield some. It left my cock quivering and dripping on the furs. My tongue licked down the fiend's length while he rolled backwards, onto his back. He was going to let me worship. This was like all my lewdest fantasies come true. Fantasies that felt a little off. Almost dreamlike in how fragile the memory of them was, but when I was so close to that salty taste, that virile musk, how could those have not always been my fantasies? I kissed down the underside of that fat cum tube and licked around the sheath, cleaning it for my new lover, my stud. The bitter taste made my eyes water a little, but I relished the strong flavor. It signaled masculine.Fertile. He would breed me. I needed to be bred.

I nuzzled into his plump ball sack, took a smell of the furry scrotum and moaned into it. That scent made my knees go weak. My head fell into a daze and all thoughts started slipping away faster, down stronger currents of lust and desire. Desire to worship. To service. To serve. I lapped along the side of a single fat nut; it must have been nearly big as my fist. I kissed it, sucked hard on what I could. The fiend growled while I cupped the other nut in my hand. I dragged my tongue from one to the next. I found my desires simmering inside my chest. Fuck how had it taken me so long to find a fiend stud? I had been a witcher for decades, and this is what I'd always wanted, wasn't it?

I hesitated, for a single breath. Did I want this? What was going--

Then more of that heavy musk from those testes poured through my nose. My nose, so sensitive, practically destroying any of my other senses with how deeply the fiend's scent clouded my mind. It was so perfect. He was so perfect. Needed to be worshipped. My tonguing renewed with extra vigor, giving each nut a dutiful cleaning. They, too, deserved to be washed by my tongue like his sheath, and the work of it left me quivering before this beast. I lost time. Any potion going through my system long since departed. The equipment I left at the mouth of the cave became covered in a fine layer of snow.

A paw came down on my head and shoved me back.

It was like being snapped awake from a nightmare. I came to with my face sweating and red and stinking of this beast. His musk had practically soaked into my pores. And my cock had been leaking slow, steady dollops of precum beneath me the entire time. But when he threw me back, some of the fiend's hold also got shaken loose. I dived for my sword--or at least where I thought it was.

The instant I turned my back on the fiend he was on top of me. He pinned me to the furs with a snarl. His equine cock, slimy with precum, smeared its juices against my back while he humped down into me. The weight of a single hand on my shoulder blades was an anvil. I could not get away from him, and my blind groping could not find my sword. Had I not dropped it beside me? I could not remember--perhaps I turned in the wrong direction or the fiend threw me away from it.

All I knew was a bestial cock began to jab at my rear. He stabbed forward blindly, growling while I struggled with him. I could not get myself away. My feet kicked and thrashed, but in this position I could not hit him. He straddled my hamstrings and lined up his cock. Probing in a way that told me this was inevitable. The worst part, in all my struggling, was that I was still hard. Still wanted him to fuck me. I knew it would take weeks after killing him to rid my mind of his influence.

If I killed him.

His shaft managed to find my entrance.

Even with ample lubricant from his messy precum, I was a virgin and his cock tip was thick as a bottle of wine. I howled in pain when he stabbed inside me. Several inches of bestial cock dug into my entrance and left me breathless. My rim burned with stinging pain from being taken so roughly. But worse than the pain was the excitement. My traitorous body wanted the fiend to push more, to dig deeper inside me. Use me more and more. I sealed my fate in that moment by looking up. He'd opened his third eye again, and stared down at me.

My struggles ceased in an instant. His hold on my mind was now stronger than ever. All my muscles began to relax; I stopped trying to clench and force him out. For a moment, we both stayed very still while he reminded me: I saved_myself for a male like him; I dreamed about a male like him for years. We both knew how badly I wanted this. How all this pain soon would fade in favor of pleasure. Satiation. I became suddenly aware of a fire burning in my chest. A _need. I needed him to take me. Claim every part of me. Slowly, his eyes still locked on mine, he began to fuck me.

My master was kind. Even my body needed time to adapt, quick as it healed. He worked in slow, steady motions. That rod tunneled deeper into my body, jerked back, and eked forward again. He leaked so much that precum began to push out between his girth when he slid backwards. The pain in my rear soothed. It turned into a steady warmth. An itch I never knew I needed scratched. His dick caved my entrance in more and more. The pressure almost made it feel hard to breathe, but I was pliable, and willing. My walls clenched and squirmed for master. I, his silken breeding tunnel, began to moan when he forced more of his length inside. Until, eventually, his balls came to rest against my body. The pressure of him inside me was immense. My body strained to cum--strained for release, but I was too full. I could not squeeze out more than a few dollops of seed across the furs of our den. Besides, master did not want me to find my release until he did.

He allowed himself to savor the warmth of my tunnel a moment longer. Then, he shut his third eye, and all the hazy warmth in me left like waking in the midst of a deep sleep. Before I might regain my senses, he began to move. Feeling that foot and more length of cock working through my body shattered any other thoughts I might have. I groaned, quaked, and all I had time to think was: this fiend planned to break me with pleasure.

The creature ploughed forward.

My scream filled the tiny room, but only my captor could hear it. And he answered with bestial laughter. It was not a wail of pain, but a reaction to all the sensations that overwhelmed my body. That fullness knocked the wind out of me. Pressure raked along my prostate, and I felt it push through the length of my cock. My muscles started to go numb, weak with pleasure as he began rutting me. I rocked up and down on the furs roughly while his balls swung and slapped my flesh. He fucked until I could not focus on anything but him. His heavy weight. His warmth. The meaty breeder churning up my insides. Heat boiled through my core and I wanted more of him. Him and him and him. His hips forced my body to lurch forward as he fucked me. I moaned into the furs, taking in his scent there as well. He had been masturbating in this chamber for weeks, coating it in his scent. I could smell the dried cum in the fur he fucked me on, and it just made me want him more.

Nothing had ever compared to the breeding he gave me. In a matter of minutes my mind shattered from the overwhelming pounding of his bestial cock. From the sound of his meat tugging out and in of my messy, precummy rim. From his scent: that salty, virile musk of a male meant to be worshipped. I began to give myself to him, body and soul. I wanted every part of myself to be his. I tried to raise my hips when he ploughed forward. I clenched when he pulled out. And he saw how, like body, my mind became this pliable thing for him to shape. I heard his pleased growl, and that alone made me shiver and moan. Finally, I started cumming across the furs. But I barely noticed at this point. My release was nothing without his, without him claiming me.

It was when his teeth sank into my shoulder that I knew this was my life now. Fangs tore into my flesh, and even the sharp flare of pain from a claiming bite made me moan. I reached up to hold him against me while his hips gyrated in quick little thrusts before, finally, he began to seed me. I felt the cock inside me flex and flare before rivers of the fiend's seed began to fill me. And I was soothed. Completed. A wide grin had broken across my face. Tears of joy ran from the corners of my eyes as I begged, "Yes... more... cum... breed..." My slurred words barely reached for any sense. I felt his heat, near boiling, fill my belly. And I felt it burn in my body. I knew, from our early mental connection, what was happening. A witcher's body was a pliable thing, could respond to toxins and potions and be warped by them. The fiend's cum was warping mine. As my body absorbed his seed, I felt my cock ache. Shrink.

He was going to make me his broodmare. And I wanted nothing more.

It took several weeks of fucking and exposure to my master's cum before my cunt finally replaced my cock. All traces of my manhood disappeared, for the plump labia he abused constantly. My sex rarely ever went without dripping his cum. By the end of the year he was fucking me while my stomach was swollen with his progeny. My hips had expanded a little, too, and my body lost its hard edges. I became soft and round in places I'd not been before.

He would sit back and I would ride his cock till he grew impatient. Those strong, powerful hands would wrap around my thighs, spread them in a V, and lift me up and down on his shaft like I was nothing more than his toy.

And I was nothing more than his toy. And his cock, his virility was my whole world.