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Anthro Sex Squad Story 1 - Vibra's Story

By Killenor

Arc 1 - Origins

Chapter 11

Issa pulled off his spectacles and wiped the sweat from his brow for perhaps the six-hundredth time. Though his muscles ached and his body was exhausted, nothing could stop him from pacing outside of the surgery. He had trust in the conclave's doctors, having been patched up numerous times by their ministrations, but when it was his love he could not help but worry.

Pushing aside the scrolls that sat piled in a wooden armchair he dropped down. Grabbing one he glanced through the contents. It wasn't helping. His mind was simply too tired and too worried to read. Normally the theories of draconic mathematics or the poetry of hundreds of civil-folk races would have him enthralled, even to the point of missing sleep. This was different. This was the love of his life lying injured beside a stranger who, by Elenyra's account, had exchanged life-salvation with her. And now, with their lives in the capable hands of the surgeons, Issa could only feel his helplessness to save them.

A nurse bustled by, her arms full of fresh dressings and jars of salves. Issa made to interrupt her, just for any nugget of information about his injured love, but was quickly brushed aside as the nurse made her way into the surgery. For minutes he could only stare at the door, imagining how his love had been so injured, how she must be laying there as the surgeons ministered to her.

It seemed like an eternity waiting there, but finally one of the doctors arrived to lead him inside. There lay his golden lover, swaddled in plasters that her bones might set properly. Across the room, laying on three tables pushed together, was the giant bird-woman he had carried back. Surgeons still worked at her, sewing at the great wound on her shoulder and slathering her with antiseptics every few minutes. For now, however, the bird-woman didn't matter. All that mattered was that his love was alright and that the doctors assured him that she would recover fully.

Elenyra had no need to open an eye to know Issa had entered the room.

"I'm doing well my love," she sighed as if reading his mind, "You shouldn't have kept yourself pacing, the worst of it was a few cracked bones in my useless wings, nothing worse really."

"I always worry when I am out of sight of you," replied Issa in his softest voice, "It should be as wandering in darkness if you weren't around."

"I should be well enough to leave. The surgeons are going to be a while longer with Vibra. Long enough to make a few... predictions... if you're up for it. I definitely need to recharge." Elenyra said with an undertone of seduction.

"If you think you're well enough..." Issa said with a bit of concern.

"Well enough to be on top at least." she said.

If anything brought a light to Issa's giant heart, it was that his love never failed to give to others. Delicately, he lifted her golden-scaled body to his chest and nuzzled her. Ignoring the surgeons' glares, he carried her out and down the hall to their private chambers.

***

He was out of tears... out of breath... out of hope. All he could do was watch and wait for the end. How anyone could stand to support a man who would rape and murder a child in front of his father's eyes, he would never know... especially since he was about to die.

The horrors of the night had shown him the molestation of every female... the murder of every child... and how far a being could fall. Wynono was a demon! A foul creature out of the mythos of a thousand cultures. No mortal being could be so horrible! He wanted to scream out against his tormenter, to goad him into hastening the execution, but so beaten was he that forming words was simply impossible. In fact, the only part of him that wasn't at all damaged were his eyes, horrifically clear and focused.

Suddenly it was over. No one remained, the females all dragged away screaming, doubtless to be used and abused further. The horrible creature was exhausted and slept atop a ewe whose neck he had broken in the throes of his abominable passion. Wynono's stance went from bemused spectator to bored. Seeing that there was nothing else to torment Wethers with, he now directed his attention to the last thing that would make his conquest complete.

"They say all good things must come to an end my dear rival. Too bad you couldn't have made it more fun for me."

Wethers wanted to spit at him, he truly did, but with a broken jaw and swollen face all he could manage was a dribble of blood-soaked saliva and a slight moan.

"Fine last words," Wynono chided, "I do believe it is time for us to say goodbye. So I'll just take my parting gifts and be on my way... with everything you ever had."

Wethers could not help but watch as Wynono walked round behind him. The strain on his eyeballs was horrificly painful, but thanks to the magic they could not rupture or tear. Instead they simply pulled and unfocused. But that pain was nothing compared to what happened next.

A hand grabbed Wethers roughly, taking his testicles in a solid, excruciating grip.

"Just to be sure you can't enjoy this like I will..." Wynono hissed, "I'll make you hate yourself first."

Suddenly the grip softened. After the pain he had endured, Wethers could swear that it felt almost pleasurable. Was this what Wynono was intending? Would he truly bring such shame in a rival's final moment?! No matter what, Wethers decided, he would not give this demon the satisfaction of seeing him aroused. He would meet his fate denying him as much as he could until the very end.

But it was clear in almost no time that it was a futile gesture. Despite his mental steeling to the contrary, Wethers felt himself becoming unwillingly aroused. His imagination raced, trying to latch on to every unarousing thing he could think of, hoping that this horrible creature's touch would burn like acid rather than feel in any way pleasurable. Alas, his injuries were so severe that he could not imagine the gentle touch as anything worse.

"Just how I want you." came that horrible voice, "I hope you try not to enjoy this. It will make your agony that much sweeter. But I tire of waiting, I want to hear your approval of my work."

Wether's ears twitched at the sound of a blade leaving it's sheath.

"I had this one made especially for you." Wynono admitted. "It won't cut flesh very well at all, at least as far as the bladesmith told me. It is made for cutting very hard things, you see. With soft things like flesh..." Wethers couldn't help himself for the bleat of agony that escaped his broken mouth as Wynono emphasized his point with a harsh squeeze, "... it tends to bind and pull, requiring the blade to be cleaned every so often. So for the sake of that smith's pride in his work... be honest about how it feels."

Wethers could not help but scream as the blade took it's maiden cut upon his delicate flesh. True to form, the blade caught and pulled, ripping rather than slicing into his scrotal tissue. He had no idea how long he was screaming before he gathered his wits again.

"An excellent choice!" Wynono crowed, pulling the strip of bound flesh from the teeth of the blade, "oh my yes, I must compliment him!"

As the strip of his own skin was laid across his muzzle, Wethers could only shudder in abject horror. Fortunately... or more likely unfortunately... only moments later the indescribable pain returned as Wynono returned to his grisly work. The only time he was able to think through the agony was as he had to clean off the blade with regular frequency.

At least the end had come... there was simply no more to cut. And though the pain burned brightly betwixt his legs, somehow he was still horrifically aware and able to feel his other wounds. His mind struggled, unable to shut down and unable to ignore anything around him. Worse yet, he was unable to move... totally helpless.

"Worry not my rival," Wynono said with a suddenly serious grating to his voice, "It will be over in just a moment. But before you go I want you to know something. Something special to carry your soul to the next world... This all meant less than nothing. A mere distraction in the wondrous life I will live in the ashes of yours. By tomorrow I shall not give you a second thought... and no other will either. Goodbye... nothing."

Wethers at last felt his eyes return to his own control. Instinctively they shut, squeezing against the constant throbbing torment that his torn body could not give up. But a moment later he was drenched in a sudden wash of foul smelling oil. The oil was thick and crude, it's sediments settling in to his countless wounds and igniting a new level of ache within him. Somehow he was still salient.

His ears heard what was undoubtedly fire... he knew then that this was how it would end. But it was alright.

Oddly thankful for his own death, he pushed himself away from his pain. Tears flowed freely, his eyes the only undamaged portion of his body. Thankful for small blessings, he simply waited for it all to be over, hoping with all the hope he possessed that he would meet his love in the afterlife. Comfort crept through his shattered form even as his body ignited, easing the pain with visions of his favorite wife and his first-born son waiting for him.

Even at the end he could still hope.