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Yiffy story: only for those 18 and older. Any similarity to persons living or dead would amaze the hell out of me. Enjoy it. The next chapter is in the works, though might not get posted for a bit. * * *


 Report of Temporal Scrying: The Cottage of Morgan Drythur
 January 19th, late evening. Probability index 95%


• * * Night. It is dark. The room is silent. Nothing moves save for the slowly trembling bundle under the covers of the bed. Beneath it lays a blue/gray raccoon of 12 years. She is wearing only a silk shift. Her breathing in heavy and labored, her body is sweaty, hot, but she fears leaving the protective confines of her bed-cave, as if the thin blanket would protect her from the creature. That proud predator... that aqua skinned beast, with its many sharp teeth and its full, heavy breasts. Alice. The monster that is hunting me, thought the frightened coon. Even more confusing to the coon are the strange sick feeling in her stomach and an odd pressure in her loins, as if she needs to relieve herself. She is no stranger to her sexuality. She knows she is frightened and her loins beg to be touched. She peaks her nose above the protective shroud. She shivers, even in the balmy night, as she peers around her room. All children fear the dark, this preteen coon is no different, but tonight it is not dark. A full moon shines through the room's only window everything is silver, and there is not a shadow in sight, but still she is terrified. She swallows, letting the blanket fall. Her flesh beneath her fur is goose bumped, the pale silk of her shift catching on her hardened nipples. She brings her thick, ringed rail to her chest holding it, talking softly to herself: "I seems... like it was a dream. That sort of thing couldn't happen... it shouldn't... I felt so safe... but why? She has so many teeth... and she's big... W- why Krista!? Why did you trust her? That was stupid... so stupid.... "She... Alice... She was standing over me, watching me curiously, as I scrubbed away her sickness from the stone floor. I smiled at her, not thinking anything, thinking I was safe. How wrong I was! She moved like a blur, butting her head into my stomach. Stars swam in my eyes as I hit the cold stone on my back, and she was on top of me. I screamed; I beat against her head with my little paws, if she even felt my blows, they did nothing. She laid herself on top of me, her claws pinning my wrists to the ground. I felt helpless under her. I felt like prey. Even those soft nipple-less breasts seemed heavy and oppressive as the pressed against me. Her mouth opened, I saw rows upon rows of sharp teeth. I saw the darkness at the back of her throat. I saw all of my life flash before my eyes. I didn't want to die... not there, not like that! I remembered, wrestling with my brother like this before.... When we did he always got... excited. Th- that thing would get all big. "I remember when we played show me yours I'll show you mine... Oh, it was so ugly... And he wanted me to touch it! It was gross! I touched it alright! With my foot! It was so funny how he fell over and cried! I was hoping it would work on that monster too as I brought my little furred kneed up between her thighs as hard as I could. Hoping.... "She... the creature looked down at my knee, wedged between her thighs. Her lips seemed to purse in a smirk. She wasn't like me down there; it was all just smooth blue skin. Even though she was naked, she didn't have any girl parts. That was the scariest part. All I could think was Alice was a guy and she was going to ruin me. Dying suddenly seemed unimportant. I sobbed weakly; I saw the flash of her teeth, the white. I closed my eyes, the smells of her breath; the reek of raw meat was heavy in the air. I was crying, I can admit that... B- but I didn't die... The teeth didn't close; rather I felt her long supple tongue licking my face, tracing the tracks of tears from my eyes. She was there, keeping me pinned as she slowly licked her lips with one tongue, the other slowly tightening around my neck. I could barely breathe, maybe not cause of the tongue, but I was so scared. She was tasting me! She was going so slowly.... She would eat me alive! Bit by bit! "I felt helpless. I wanted to cry. Part of me wanted to give up, to let Alice do anything to me. Wanted to lie down and die. But... I'm too little to die! She bent her great triangular head lower, her dark eyes watching me. I tried to twist my head away, but I couldn't move. She opened her mouth wide; it smelled like death. It seemed as if everything was moving in slow motion. I could see her long tongues slide out of her mouth, thick clear spit running down their length. She ran her tongues over my face, matting my fur as I trembled helplessly. And then I felt her tongue at my muzzle, forcing its way into me. I cried. I felt is writhe and probe about my mouth, like it was alive. It pushed itself to the back of my mouth and further. I was choking; I wanted to vomit it out. I pushed back against her, my little paws on her wide shoulders, and she yielded. I don't know why, but she did. She sat back on her haunches, her black eyes expressionless, but locked on me. "I screamed as loud as I could and ran for the door. I had to get away... "It... it wasn't right! She tried to eat me! It wasn't right..." The young coon blushed, the pink almost matching her shift. "Bu- but..." She slid her hand to her immature slit, feeling dampness and warmth. "I was so big... and so deep. I wonder if that's what its like when my husband will.... S- shameful.... Alice is dangerous.... Girls... good girls do not... with monsters. But is Alice a monster? You thought she was so pretty at first..." The young coon crawls from her bed, taking the protective blanket with her. In one corner of her room is a small bronze pot; she looks at it with distaste. Shrugging up the blanket she walks slowly to the cabin's main door, opening it and peering slowly out into the night. She sees only the silent winter night, somewhere even a cricket chirps in this warm parody of winter. Her heart is beating rapidly, and the heavy blanket causes her to sweat, but she will not abandon it as she walks on bare paws into the woods. Her progress is slow, every twig snapping underpaw causing her to stop and shiver in fear. The woods are not 20 feet from the door, but to a freighted 12 year old, with an urgently demanding bladder the distance seems to be endless. Finally reaching the tree line she gathers her blanket and shift, lifting them as she squats down with her back to the tree. For a few nervous moments she watches the cabin, but then closes her eyes as she begins to empty herself. For a moment the night sounds are replaced with only the sound of her stream hitting the soft moss at the base of the tree. She wipes herself with a leaf, tossing it away, before standing boldly, as if her bladder had been the organ responsible for storing fear. "Proper ladies go inside in smelly pot and stink up their rooms all night!" The coon giggles in spite of herself, gathering up her blanket as she takes a step towards the cabin. She stops before her paw hits the ground, the blanket sliding slowly from her trembling shoulders. She looks up, her eyes going wide. She is not alone. Her eyes scan towards the dark cabin, but there is no one there. Run! her mind shouts again and again. There is a soft creek; the cabin's old wooden door is open. She turns running into the forest in a blind panic. Running as fasts as her immature legs will carry her into the darkened woods. Branches smack as her breasts, her thighs, her muzzle, but she runs. The young coon runs until her body burns and aches. Runs until she needs to place her head between her knees to catch her breath. And then she feels them. Strong claws embracing her from behind, cupping her barely raised breasts. Her unseen attacker pulls her backwards. She can feel the thick saliva dripping into her hair. She can smell the reek of Alice's carrion breath. Krista would wet herself if only she could. * * * * * *


 Report of Temporal Scrying: Town of Bywater
 January 25th, late evening. Probability index 87.3%


• * * The last ray of the fading sun cascaded over the small, squat town, casting long shadows across avenues and bridges. The last of the shopkeepers were closing their market stalls; carts rattled over the muddy roads carrying them and their unsold produce back to their home. A lone guard in a chain tunic more battered from unwashed fur then arrows or blades paced the street. His heavy boots sinking into the muddy road as he walked the town's only major street, slowly lighting oil filled braziers as he went. They cast a garish smoky light about the town; a light far too bright to suit the purposes of the tan wolf who silently licked his muzzle in the dark alley. He turned his back on the light, his boots trampling through all manner of filth as he made his way to the darker section of town. He had come to town in a fine silken robe and traveling cape. He had sold them both that morning. It had been weeks at the best of the Kingdom's brothels, an endless orgy of lust, recalling his earlier dreams. Only this time his knot formed easily. He had cum several times a day, filling several different whores, each one moaning under him. The heavy breasts of each rocked with his thrust. Each one telling him he was the best, that is penis was the largest. Each one of them had read from the same sexual script. He became something of a legend amongst the girls, a contest for their skills; After the first few days, the girl's began to vie for position to claim his endless libido. And it was only with a sense of disappointment that he unloaded himself in to their chemically barren wombs before moving to the next. Not once was his lust sated. He found it strange that the lack of fertility should bother him at first. He was a rich man after all. He did not need a score of unwanted children to drain his coffers. But still each time he came, he felt only a sickly feeling of remorse as visions of his young sobbing apprentice and a thousand other naked girls all cried and bemoaned his wasted seed. That image, his young ward and her dark mask splattered with his white cum, it haunted him. It played endlessly in his mind. Slowly, his tastes changed. At first he had found the heavier well worn whore appealing, but now it was the young virginal appearing ones he craved. They, of course, cost nearly three times as much. And Morgan had neglected to bring his entire fortune to this small backwater brothel. The house matron had quickly grown tired of is IOUs and had cut off his supply until his promised gold arrived. Escape from the brothel had been a simple matter, though in the process he had needed to abandon more then a bit of his property. Now crouched in the darkness, the wolf felt his loins stirring again. He watched the lone rabbit walk slowly of out a nearby ally, warming her paws over the brazier. Even if she had not pulled a blood red scarf from within her bodice and tied it about her neck, her wide legged walk, her casual, sultry lean, the cut of her dress they all told of her profession. Ever since the King had legalized brothels (not prostitution mind you, only his own heavily taxed brothels) few of these true whores remained. After all, who would want this dirty peasant rabbit for a back alley knee-wobbler, when they could have a beautiful, infertile whore, her body magically maintained? Morgan for one. It was not more then 10 minutes after had locked eyes on her, licking his lips at her heavy bosom and thick rump, that she had led him to a back alley by jingling his heavy coin purse at her. Morgan felt like his old self again, and she was just the kind of woman he had liked best: heavy, with a layer of fat coating everything except her large nipples and loose sex. The kind of whore one could slide into without the least resistance! Who needed those tight, cold virginal pussies!? Morgan could fuck a pussy like this for days! Morgan barely listened as, in the most gutter-ridden speech, she set her price. He had no interest in what could come from her upper lips, he pulled a coin from somewhere within his tattered robes, handing it to her with no more respect then one would give to the mutton dealer Truth be told there was another thing that attracted Morgan to this well worn rabbit: to a practiced mage like Morgan magic was as noticeable as the whore's rather pungent smell, but far less appealing then the mix of sweat and lust that this rabbit exuded. She was free of the smell of magic. While no doubt she had been touched by at least one male today, her body was free from any magical tampering. Her tits were full saggy and natural, but best of all she was not bearing any magical birth control. Hers was a waiting eager womb, wanting seed. She was a whore, so of course she would have been smart enough not to work while in heat, but Morgan could fix that. She welcomed him to their coitus, by placing her back against a wall, pulling his hips to hers even as she lifted her dress to her stomach. Her expert paw found his member, guiding it into her loose, often ravaged sex. It had not been quite what he wanted, but no man refuses a pussy when it has already wrapped around his cock. No sane man. The rabbit had let him into her with a bored, far away look in her eyes; there was no passion in her even as she wrapped her paws around his neck. Morgan grabbed her bodice, tugging it downward, letting her large breasts bounce free. A relatively small, rosy pink nipple crowned each of the large orbs. Morgan's lust grew ten times at the sight. She had never given birth, never breast-fed! Oh, how he could change that! He thrust himself harder, watching those nipple bounce. He reveled in the way her body moved and jiggled with him, but even as he began to push himself deep into her, his paws grasping her heavy rump. He slid himself hard and deep into her professional sex, but she looked off into the sky, as if bored. And bored she was, no doubt. How many men had taken her this way today? This week? This year? It did not matter to Morgan. None of them had been archmages... none of them could make her beg and scream in the way he could! None of them would fill her womb with pups! Magic, like all human inventions had been divided into subfields for easier instruction. Morgan personally specialized in animals and anatomy. And while their were war mage, healing mages, scrying mages, there was a type of mage that even Morgan admitted a grudging respect for, body mages. As a young apprentice one of the first things you were taught was not to alter living bodies. Minor spells such as castration of the womb, or firming of the bosom had been nearly perfected by mages who spent their entire lives focusing on such minor uses of power. But in the wrong paws, shaped bodies could quickly become unpredictable, dangerous, and unstable due to the fact that Mother Nature was the queen of all jealous, prideful bitches. Body alterations would likely backfire as the natural pattern of life tried to reassert itself. Such warnings were for children! Apprentices! Apprentices like that untalented Raccoon. Morgan pulled his length free from the rabbit, sliding from her with total ease. Her eyes had a momentary flicker of not-quite-excitement-but-something as he left her, thinking perhaps she had just made a quick and easy gold. But her eyes quickly became that dull gray again; she had done this enough to know her customer had not cum, and no man left before blowing their load. Grinning wildly, Morgan closed his eyes, adjusting his blood flow, directing more and more of his blood into his member, letting it swell and grow as that ungrateful bitch of a rabbit looked skyward again. Bored, he thought, I'll show you the time of your life whore! I'll fuck you so well that you'll never be able to find pleasure from another man!! Morgan groaned, his shaft growing till his skin felt as if it were about to tear. The rabbit had looked down at him quizzically, this was a business, and the longer each john took the less gold she made at the end of each night. She opened her mouth, the most detestable of lower class drawl spilling forth, "Oy, gov, 'e gunna stan ere al dey or you gunna rodger me gunny hole?" For Morgan, the mind was willing but the flesh was weak... He would show this complacent bunny! He would leave her a moaning, writhing, mess with a cunt full of his seed. If his body wouldn't do, he would fuck her into submission with magic! He groan, hilting his newly enlarged cock into her sloppy sex. He closed his eyes, visualizing the magic as air wrapped around his already bloated prick deep inside the rabbit, growing, reshaping. Soon a phallus that any stallion would have longed for was buried in his complacent rabbit whore. "Eye, Gov... fuck! What e 'ell you got 'own air," she moaned, her pussy stretched to its well-stretched limits. Morgan growled in lust, somewhere in the back of his mind, something told him he has used too much blood in his cock, that his rational mind was starving, but... the whore! The rabbit must have been feeling as if she were a virgin schoolgirl. She gasped and groaned as he began to relentlessly pound into her. He continued to grow inside her, imagining the thick veins that would run the length of his monstrous invisible cock even as it stretched her sluttish hole. Morgan let his new cock expand till it filled every cubic inch of her depths, then he began to slam into her, spearing her impaling her insides. The rabbit, the practiced whore, screamed into honest lust and pain, a thin trickle of her blood tracing down the invisible cock inside her. "Oy... 'e Gov! 'Igger 'en a draft 'orse, e are! So full, Gov! So... eayagh!!" Morgan felt the rabbit's sex grip lustfully at his member. Unlike a virgin this wonton whore was already climaxing, her head thrown back into the hard brick wall, her body shaking her juices running down her thigh. The whore lifted a leg, wrapping it around Morgan's hip, her body urging him deeper, her mind telling her not to, that this was work; that she wasn't orgasming. Her mind lied. Her dull gray eyes locked on the wolf's yellow ones. Those eyes begged him, their look so lustful, so fearful, that Morgan almost lost control. There were the eyes of a beaten prisoner; they were the eyes of a wanton harlot, in part begging for him to end it, in part begging for him never to stop. He almost came. He moved his new cock within her. He closed his eyes, seeing her opening from the inside, looking directly out his monster's single eye. He aligned that eye with the whore's cervix, making sure that she would receive his seed deep into her womb. When he finally gave it to her. He grinned. Concentrating, he slowed the churning in his heavy sack even as he thrust, setting up a slow and steady rhythm. Invisible tendrils snaked their way through the woman's flesh, into her body. There was nothing the whore could hide from him! He had dissected enough creatures, fur or not, to let him understand all of her anatomy. To him it was as simple as flipping a switch, sending the lustful whore into heat. Before long she would be begging for his seed, begging for his children! Mmmm, thought Morgan as he growled in lust, digging his teeth into the muscle and fat of the rabbit's shoulder, this bitch needed to be taught a lesson... and this teacher could go on for hours. * * * Morgan had proven weak once again. He hated himself and his weak flesh. As the whore began to rock her hips, her cunt clamping down on him and releasing, Morgan stopped seeing her. Instead of a wolf in his 50's fucking a back alley whore, he was 19 again, hard as a rock and buried deep in his Alice. She had been his teacher in the ways of women, that loose slut of a noble with her half score of children! Morgan knew what Alice wanted. She wanted his cock. She wanted his maleness. She wanted his children. The wolfess begged him, she cried for his seed. And Krista was there too! She had begun massaging his balls with her deft little paws. He grinned down at her, still thrusting, his thick length disappearing into that hot wolf-sex. Popping his testicle from her mouth, the preteen smiled at him. "Cum Master, I'm next! I want to have your babies too!" Morgan closed his eyes, howling into the night as his orgasm hit him. As his thick seed erupted from his cock, spraying into the rabbit whore, the magical moment melted. He was old again. Weak, infirm, his cock was already growing soft inside the rabbit's depths. The rabbit had slumped over him; he could feel her drool running down his back. His whore had passed out on him! Krista stood next to him, shaking her young head. "Master... you're soft... but I was next!" She began to sob. Morgan threw the whore to the dirty ground, slapping her across the face with his paw. I'm soft... no! I cannot be soft.... Yes, more blood.... Fill my cock! Don't worry Krista I'll stay nice and hard for you! The rabbit screamed under him as he resumed thrusting with his newly hardened cock. Part of his mind told him this was a bad idea, but the image of that preteen coon and her begging could not be denied. Morgan knew he was too weak to hold back his seed for hours, so, even as he thrust, he set about changing himself. What he could not do well he would make up for with quantity. It was somewhere around his sixth orgasm that the night was ruined. For both the wolf and the rabbit, their feral instincts had taken over long ago. They said nothing, thought nothing. They continued to rut like beasts in the dirty street until the rabbits belly had grown swollen from load after load of wolf cum in magically enhanced amounts. It was then that something told Morgan's mind that they should be naked. The rabbit barely groaned as Morgan shredded her dress with tooth and claw. Then he saw it. The fur of her underbelly was riddled with circular patches of short stunted fur, some of them bare and showing off the pink scarred flesh beneath. Some sanity returned to the rabbit as the wolf stared down at her. "Oy, 'on't ya worry 'or 'ead not. Pox done 'assed 'pletely 'ey say. Yuh can rodger 'e all year and never a sickness or a 'aby for ye, gov." Morgan slowly pulled his still hard throbbing cock from the rabbit, watching his seed drip uselessly from her ravaged pussy. His eyes burned with rage. * * * The rabbit was found the next morning by a young girl, naked save for the red scarf dangling between her heavy breasts. Her forepaws had been bound together with rope, forced over her head and tied to a flagpole some 12 feet above her on the wall of a tavern. She had been left facing a public street, with nothing more then a foolish smile and a large puddle of seamen on the ground between her legs. She had quite clearly been raped sometime in the night, and from the appearance of her torn vagina quite probably violated with most of someone's arm. The woman, though fully conscious, could respond only with grunts and gestures. Her tattered dress was found not far away. A search of the garment revealed several golden coins. She was arrested on the spot for prostitution. Otherwise, the day was unexceptional for the town. A drunken fight was broken up both of the brawlers place in holding to sober up. Several vegetables were reported stolen from a shop-cart, the children who had be the likely thieves were not found. And lastly, one vagrant, a wolf in tattered robes, was forcibly ejected from the town after exposing himself to several women in the town square. It became quite clear to the guards arresting him that the wolf was quite clearly mad. As such, he was taken to the edge of the woods and told never to return to town or face jail.