FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Hobbling along on his crutches, a weapon almost literally pointed at his back, Timothy Morton's arms were getting tired of supporting his weight. He was half-tempted to just let himself get stabbed; at least dead he wouldn't have continue the slow torture of forcing himself to move while listening to the old man droning on and on about some long dead twat or another. He rolled his eyes; just because they were both in chains didn't mean they were friends or something!

Yule's chattering and the ache in his arms notwithstanding, Tim was having a pretty good time: aside from the other five, he was pretty much alone, and it made a nice change of scenery from the prison walls. Of course, not much in the way of his line, but as most of his old gang wanted him dead, maybe that was for the best. He grunted: it says something when a gang of crooks takes the time to chop of your leg and literally drop you in front of the guardhouse.

"Fuck 'em!" Tim thought. His proper thieving days were over for good now, no sense crying about it.

Yule's yammerings got cut-off with Lysander calling the party to a halt. Pricking up his ears, Tim listened to Lysander and the other, younger paladin Richard talking quietly with one another. Apparently William - the captain's son, and one nauseatingly smarmy little suck-up if there ever was one - should have caught up with them. It had been an hour or so since they'd last seen him, when he'd stayed behind to clean the dishes.

Tim smirked. In his old profession, he'd spent a lot of time with his eyes on people's waistlines; and from what he'd seen, he'd have wagered the captain's boy had taken the time to stroke his meat and had probably felt a bit knackered afterwards and fell asleep.

"Maybe I should wait for him?" Richard suggested. "Or maybe go back and look for-"

Lysander interjected, "No, we don't have time to wait. Once we've arrived at the ruins, I'll send Farrier out to hunt for him."

"But he might be-" Richard argued.

"This is not a discussion, this is an order," Lysander concluded firmly.

"I don't mind staying behind to wait for him," offered Tim cheekily.

Lysander stared at him with a hateful expression that Tim had seen a lot over his lifetime, and simply said, "Move out."

Wincing slightly, Tim started to move. Lysander, he decided, needed to get laid, or diddled up the bum according to some rumours he'd heard a while back about the men in the Holy Hand. Tim did not put much stock into religion - just a bunch of useless guff to keep people in line - and anyone that full of themselves he found utterly intolerable.

Compared to the absent suck-up, the humourless bastard and the boring blowhard, Tim thought the younger paladin was the most tolerable; at least after the hunter who was never around long enough to be annoying. Considering he was one of those guys who usually walked around like cock of the walk, he hadn't seemed to be the type to kiss your ass while stabbing you in the back.

Tim grinned; young and sheltered like that, Richard would probably be very gullible. Entertaining the hope that Lysander would slip up and he might get to escape, Tim fell into a steady rhythm of embedding the ends of his crutches into the dirt at regular intervals, hopping along in between.

After a while, they started noticing tell-tale signs that they were approaching what had many years ago been one of the larger settlements. The ground was unnaturally flat, the pattern occasionally broken by a lump of worn cobblestone. A few decaying frameworks from houses and other smallish buildings could be discernible for what they actually had been. Occasionally, long-abandoned markers partially told them what way was what.

Yule, Tim thought, would have known the exact date, who had been involved and why they had done it, but wasn't terribly interested enough to ask. Instead, Tim found himself wondering why anyone other than hunters would bother coming here in the first place: after this many years, the ruins would have been picked clean of anything valuable, and to him there was little point for coming here for anything else. Unless you were some old fool with too much time on their hands.

He had to watch where he put his crutches now; he'd learned that lesson a long time ago. Nature had reclaimed most of the ground; Tim admitted it was pretty amazing that every huge city he'd ever been into could end up turning into this at some point.

Ragnar turned up again, looking concerned. "I've seen things," he announced to the group. Tim was surprised; usually the guy only talked to Lysander, or William when Lysander was busy.

"What kind of things?" Lysander inquired.

"Unnatural things," Ragnar explained. "There's hoof prints around that are too big, and there's only one pair when there should be two. Then there's some animal - a bear I think - that's not native to this area. Some other things too, but I think they've got some sense as they've covered their tracks cleverly."

"By the Hand," Tim thought impatiently, "uncork the guy and he doesn't shut up!"

Richard asked, "Could these be the monsters that had been reported in the area?"

Ragnar shrugged, "Probably, yeah; they're definitely strange, whatever they are."

Tim was eyeing Lysander; he'd felt the guy wasn't quite right, but standing here now gave it away. They'd not been near any major settlement in a while; it had been mostly unkempt plains, forests and roads that lead to what amounted to a dead end. The only people coming out here are not the type to go and whine to priests to get something done; they'd grab some friends and deal with it on their own. So why the hell was Lysander - a pretty big deal by all accounts - out here dealing with this supposedly small problem?

"I don't need to tell you all to be on the look-out for anything strange," Lysander warned them, "now that we have this confirmation. Are any of these tracks close?"

Ragnar nodded, "Yeah, but they don't leave a very long path; I think something or someone else is covering them up in spots, and of course there's all the old cobblestones around so tracks won't show up on them."

"Alright, Brother Richard," Lysander commanded, "I want you to remain here with Morton. If he tries to escape, kill him. If you see anyone other than us or Uxbridge returning, kill them. Hopefully Uxbridge will turn up at some point, or we'll meet him on the way. If you see him first, tell him what's going on. If he's acting suspicious, kill him. Farrier, I want you to take Baker and I to some of these tracks so he can study them."

Tim shrugged and looked over at Richard, asking, "If it's all the same with you, I'll sit down."

"Certainly," said Richard; the paladin looked a bit flushed and out of breath. Tim tingled with excitement, wondering if maybe he'd gotten his chance at escape.

While Tim and Richard had talked, Lysander had had Ragnar explain how long it would take to get to the strange tracks. "Only about ten minutes or so," Ragnar stated.

"Brother Richard," Lysander added, "if we haven't returned in two hours, take Morton, follow the trail back to the village, return him to the prison and go back and report what happened."

"Yes, Brother Lysander," Richard bowed slightly. Yule, looking intrigued by the endeavour for the first time, quickly followed Ragnar, who lead the group, Lysander following at the rear with his weapon drawn and held tightly in his hands.

Tim eyed as the three others left, trying his best to look generally aggravated but pleased to see the back of them. His heart pounded as he could almost taste the prospect of freedom in the air around him. Once they were gone, his mind whirred into action.

Unfortunately, his crutches were too light to be used as a cosh, especially against the huge, young paladin. Instead, he started moving, looking around.

"What are you doing?" asked Richard immediately.

Feigning outrage, Tim growled, "Looking for a place to sit; not everyone can just plop down where they like."

Richard nodded, "Yes, of course. We can't go too far though. How about over there?" The paladin pointed over to the nearby ruined edge of a building; the large corner-stone offered a good place for Tim to lean against.

Tim turned his head to keep Richard from seeing him grin. "That'll do," he grunted and hobbled over towards the rock, Richard hot on his heels.

Tim scanned the ground, looking for a suitable loose rock to trip nearby: heavy enough to knock the paladin out when he tried to help him out, but not too heavy as to kill the guy. Tim wouldn't get upset if he killed someone in a proper fight, and wouldn't cry himself to sleep if he accidentally did someone in, but deliberately planning to outright murder someone offended his code of honour.

Suddenly his face lifted: with his senses excited, he'd heard a low grunt and a heavy footfall. Freezing in place, he whispered, "Sh! I heard something!"

Richard shrugged, noting, "I didn't hear anything."

Tim's eyes scanned about: he'd heard it again. Something was moving around, rather clumsily in his estimation, somewhat close by. He couldn't see anything. "Did you hear it that time?" he asked.

Richard shook his head.

Tim rolled his eyes, "Maybe you ought to start pointing that weapon at something else other than me. There's something following us." As he had talked, he'd heard it again, this time definitely closer.

Richard glared, "You must think I'm really gullible. If you don't want to stand on your crutches for the next two hours, keep moving over to that rock."

If Tim's hands weren't keeping him upright, he'd have clawed at his face in frustration. "How the fuck do you go about being so deaf and stupid?" he growled quietly. "Something, probably a monster, is out there coming at us!"

Richard pointed the tip of his sword into Tim's chest. "I've just about had enough of you," he growled, voice rising. "Stop making up stories and walk or I'll stab you and say you were trying to escape!"

Suddenly, Richard twisted around; Tim's attention had been focused on the sword pointed at his guts, and hadn't noticed anything, but apparently now the paladin had. "We need to get into a more defensible position," he said, starting to breathe heavily.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tim noticed a large, slimy-green figure growl and jump towards Richard. He quickly managed to reach out, pulling the paladin on top of him; the two fell backwards, and Tim winced in pain as Richard's heavy, plated body smashed him hard against the cobblestones, but it had saved the paladin from getting tackled to the ground.

The figure sailed past them, smashing into the ground with an angry snarl, as it turned, twisting itself up. It was about the same size as Richard, green, pig-ugly and buck naked, and all that Tim could see as Richard got up, sword in hand, and charged at it.

Tim turned and tried to scramble away; one of his crutches had broken when Richard had landed on it, and as it was Tim didn't have time to stand up. All he could do was put as much distance between him and that thing as he possibly could.

"Stupid prick should have stuck around," he thought, thinking of Lysander, "going off looking for monsters when one could have landed in his bloody lap!"

Behind him he heard the sound of what seemed more like a shouting match than an actual fight. Tim heard the sound of a sword slicing through the air - after what happened to his leg, the short, sharp sound made him feel ill - and he guessed that the monster was staying out of the way when he only heard a few pained wails compared to the fast flurry of wild sword-swings.

Deep in his guts, Tim got a bad feeling. He remembered how easily Richard seemed to get tired out, and this battle was going on for a long time: chances were good that the monster would easily wear Richard out. Turning over to see, he noted that it seemed to be the case; the paladin's face was shining nearly as brightly as his armour, his breath becoming raspy. Tim wasted no time and went back to trying to flee: if that monster wanted an easy meal, Tim didn't want to be a part of it.

Suddenly alerted to another presence nearby, Tim glanced around, only to shrink back as a heavy, clawed paw reached out and easily lifted him off of the ground: it was a fucking gigantic black bear, with a metal collar around his neck.

Normally Tim would have acted coolly, but monsters were way out of his comfort zone; he felt his pants warm as he pissed himself in fright as the bear carried him off, draped over the animal's shoulders.

After the initial fright, the voice of Tim's inner thief picked up, and he started looking around. His face pointed in the opposite direction from where the bear was walking - strangely upright, though Tim wasn't an expert on bears by any means so he wasn't sure he was right - and paid attention to where he was being taken in relation to his last known location.

Unsurprisingly, Richard had lost the battle, and the monster was now dragging his body along the ground, before following him and the bear towards the centre of the ruined city.

About fifteen minutes later, the bear turned, and down a set of stairs that led down into a basement. They paused for a couple of seconds, before proceeding into a dark passage through what Tim guessed had been a secret door.

The pair was quickly swallowed up by the darkness, and other than the bear's claws clacking on the stony floor and its heavy breathing, Tim couldn't hear anything. Not even his nose could tell him anything: the bear had pretty musky armpits, and his face wasn't too far below the left one. To keep track, he counted the steps the bear took until finally they emerged into a lit area.

They were in a dungeon - Tim was very familiar with the design. The tunnel they had gone through, he guessed, was used for transporting particularly sensitive political prisoners in secret. Unlike most other dungeons he'd been in, however, this one lacked the sounds of moaning prisoners: passing by the dark cells, Tim couldn't make out any vaguely humanoid figures, and assumed that meant that he and Richard were going to be the first guests to grace these rooms in quite a while.

At one cell, the bear growled; Tim heard a rusty metal door sliding open reluctantly, then felt himself being lifted off the bear's shoulders and dumped into a cell, which the bear then proceeded to push shut, the door protesting the entire way.

The bear then padded away, leaving Tim alone to swear and try to get the door open.

* * *

A loud rumbling greeted Tim as he awoke. This time, however, it wasn't the bear, or giant green-skinned man, or the goat- or bull-man coming around on one of their rounds; instead, he was starving. Looking around his cell, he noted they hadn't brought along any food while he'd been asleep. "It's a shame," he thought, "the food's much better than it had been at Jagged Cape."

By his reckoning, he'd been captured four or five days ago: it was a bit hard to tell for sure, but Tim was used to estimating the passage of time in prisons. Of course, the estimations were based on the assumption things here were as regulated as they usually are in prisons, and whoever was in charge here wasn't just fucking with them.

However long ago they'd been captured, it had been long enough to figure out a rough schedule: one of four guards would come around at what he guessed was the hour, save for any special circumstances like unusual noises or repeated yelling by the prisoners. That had been mostly the first couple of days: Richard had been placed in the cell opposite a few moments after he'd been locked away, and the older paladin, the old man and the scout were brought past his cell at some stage. Tim didn't really hold out much hope that the captain's son would rescue them, even though he'd failed to make an appearance. Given the inexperience the others had, he decided it was up to him to break them out.

The first day had been the basics: checking the cell for weaknesses while the guards were absent. The cell door hadn't been locked behind him - Tim had paid attention to this fact especially - but it wasn't necessary: the gate was rusted and heavy, probably why all of the monster guards had been huge hulking brutes.

After scratching that off the list, he hoped that age would have worn down some of the stonework, and Tim had spent all of his guard-free waking hours slowly checking each stone in his cell for weaknesses. Unfortunately, for an old place, everything seemed to be in pretty good condition: either whoever had built this place had done a good job of making it last, or it had been done up more recently.

With the basics handled, it was about being patient and waiting for an opportunity. The guards would let them out at some point; otherwise, they wouldn't bother keeping prisoners. When that happened, he'd have his shot. Not much of one - he didn't have his crutches any more - but it was at least a little better than nothing.

When the guards were around, Tim's senses went on high alert: watching their movements with feigned disinterest, but taking in as much as possible. All of the guards were always buck naked, all of the time, and their large bulges would make a good soft target for a quick elbow jab. They didn't have weapons to swipe, though Tim noted they probably didn't really need to have any.

Tim lay back on the cot; idly scratching his beard. If he had to choose between this prison or Jagged cape, he decided, he'd pick this one. The cots were comfortable, the food was good, the cells were large and didn't have the constant reek of piss and shit that most prisons had because there was some contraption in the corners - they had been recent additions - that would carry any waste away with the pull of a chain and a rush of water.

Escape at this point was only a matter of pride - if you're a prisoner, you try to escape, he had always thought - with the added bonus of getting away from the present company. Yule, surprisingly, was the least annoying, but he'd been in prison before; for the rest there was the usual noises and annoying all-to-frequent praying that just droned on and on. That and the obviously-unsuccessful escape attempts; at these, Tim would usually mutter something about "idiot amateurs" under his breath.

Tim pulled down his pants, laying back on the bed. There wasn't much to do to pass the time, and unlike the young paladin across the hall he wasn't too worried about his immortal soul or whatever shit they believed in. Either that, or he'd long-since lost the apprehension of fondling himself when there were a bunch of other men around. If he hadn't, prison would have been even more unbearable.

Despite his hunger, Tim had woken up with an erection. His hand wandered down, gently stroking it to get him properly in the mood. It felt really good to play with: it wasn't hugely long, though it was slightly larger than average, but it was much thicker than normal, and looked even bigger due to his naturally skinny frame.

Besides, if Tim wasn't going to touch his cock, it wasn't likely to get touched. Even before he'd landed in prison, he'd had troubles getting ladies interested; even prostitutes would turn him down. Afterwards, well, there was that kind of action between prisoners sometimes, but a one-and-a-half-legged, anti-charismatic thief wasn't going to be on the giving end of that relationship.

Behind him, he heard Richard beginning to pray - something he always started when he'd noticed what Tim was currently doing - and Tim tuned it out. He'd heard it all before, and wasn't interested. However, he did slow down when he heard the clopping of hooves over the cobblestone floor, craning his ears.

It was the bull-man - Tim had trained himself to be able to tell the difference between guards by their footfalls, and with different species being involved it was even easier than usual to tell apart - who seemed to be the one in charge of the guards: he didn't come on patrol very often, and occasionally he seemed to give orders to the others who would accompany him.

However, this time he was alone, and apparently interested in Tim, who swore and tried to quickly yank up his pants as the hugely muscular monster quickly picked up the rusty cell door and slid it open.

"Whoa! Hey!" Tim yelled as the monster picked him up, Tim's pants still hanging off of his single ankle, his dick bobbing embarrassingly as the bull-man held him in one arm.

The others became active; Ragnar and Yule peered out of their cells, while Lysander and Richard started to call out to try to get someone's attention. Tim couldn't tell whether it was him or the creature. However, he didn't care.

Tim's mind was in action; now was the chance for him to escape. Unfortunately, he'd been caught slightly unaware, so had given up precious seconds, but he was in control now. He reached down, his hand clenching quickly into a fist, and slammed it right into the smooth, hairless, pink nutsack of the monster.

It was weak - even under perfect conditions, an unarmed strike from Tim wasn't going to cause much damage - but it was definitely startling enough. Tim braced himself as best he could, and crashed into the ground when the creature dropped him, bellowing in annoyance.

As soon as he hit the floor, Tim rolled away, trying to get out from under the hooves of the monster; unfortunately, the creature was faster, and was able to grab on to the slippery thief by the shirt, hoisting him up again, large hands clamping Tim's arms tightly to his sides.

"It was worth a shot," Tim shrugged, apologizing to his own genitals which had been unceremoniously squashed as he had tried to escape.

The creature took him along a long passage of empty cells - "How many prisoners was this place designed to hold?" he wondered - until they reached a break in the cells where the paths reached a crossroads. The creature turned left, passing through a small, empty and seeming abandoned chamber, before passing out the other end.

The next passage, torch-lit like the rest had been, was long and without branches. It wasn't a confusing path, and Tim was easily able to keep track of how to get back to his cell, at the very least.

The passage terminated at a large door; the monster bellowed, and the door was opened by the goat-man. The goat-man had a huge erection, and as Tim was carried through, he noticed that the green-skinned, ugly, muscular giant was sitting spread-legged on a table, spreading apart his ass cheeks and showing off his hole. "Oh fuck!" Tim blurted out, quickly clamping his mouth shut; he heard the door firmly being shut behind him, his eyes wandering around the room as he tried to avoid looking at the creatures who seemed to have been interrupted in the middle of fucking.

At the other end of the room, the bull-man pushed his way into the wide, looping corridor which encircled a roundish room being guarded by the huge bear; Tim was quickly walked past into a chamber. Opposite to him was a huge, expensive-looking bed, flanked on either side by tables filled with all sorts of weird devices - some of them kind of lewdly suggestive - and expensive, fragile-looking glass pieces of apparatus connected together. The centre of the room had some weird wood and metal contraption set up, with a drain in the floor and fed by a large water reservoir; the device seemed to be off.

Almost completely disguised by the bedspreads was the figure of an average-sized man. Pale of skin, smooth of body, with a freshly-shaved, near-smooth head, the man reclined under the bedspread, content to relax until the bull-man dropped Tim next to him on the bed.

"Thank you, Minotaur," the man said, "I'll be needing you in a few moments, make sure someone else is covering your patrols."

Minotaur - the name of the creature, Tim guessed - bowed awkwardly, then quickly left the room. As the heavy wooden door slammed behind him, the other man quickly turned towards Tim and looked him over hungrily. The man inquired, "When he returns, would you like a drink? I'm sorry, we're a little short-staffed here at the moment."

The smile the man gave was pleasant enough - and there were literally huge, fucking monsters within earshot - so Tim shrugged and replied, "Sure, why not?"

The man smiled, "Excellent! I have a rather strong brew you might enjoy; I dabble in making it myself. It should make you feel a bit better.

"Oh, how rude of me, forgetting introductions. I know who you are, of course - Timothy Morton, erstwhile prisoner of Jagged Cape, and once a moderately skilled thief until the unfortunate incident with your leg - but you may not know who I am."

He waited for a moment, anticipating an answer. When one wasn't forthcoming, he gestured as though he were bowing while still under the covers. The man introduced himself, "Edmund Overton, the last of the Overton line that was once powerful and feared for leagues around. I suppose we have a lot in common then: nobody really likes having either of us around."

Edmund's hand rested on Tim's stump, fingers gently caressing the end where the rest of his leg would have been. Tim hadn't been touched there that way before. It felt quite nice, if a little embarrassingly arousing.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Edmund said, seemingly kindly, "I think it has to do with the increased sensitivity in the skin in that area, and because you were interrupted. Again, I have to apologize for that."

"N-no problem," Tim mumbled confusedly. He wondered how Edmund had known about that: granted, he was pantsless when he'd been brought in, but there were other reasons why that might be the case. That minotaur thing hadn't said anything either.

"Besides, I'm guessing you've not had someone else touching you so tenderly in quite a while," Edmund suggested.

While Edmund had talked, Tim started to scope the place out, looking for anything to help him escape. Some of those liquids could be thrown into people's eyes, he noted, replying to Edward with a non-committal, "Oh?"

"Well, you have been in prison," Edmund suggested, "and from what I learned about you from a former guard of yours, it doesn't seem you were terribly popular for that kind of thing in or out of prison."

Before he could reply, the monster Tim had heard him call Minotaur - or a minotaur - returned. He stood near the foot of the bed, chest puffed out proudly, muscular elbows poking out as he held his hands behind his chest.

"Thank you, Minotaur," Edmund said, nodding his head in approval. Turning back to Tim, Edmund observed, "He's made a good addition to my security forces. As you can probably guess, I'm not exactly strong myself, and it is nice to have a bunch of strong, powerful men around that will do anything you ask of them."

The tip of Tim's penis oozed back out of his foreskin; whatever Edmund was doing to his leg was somehow really pushing some cock-stiffening button inside of him. "I- I guess, if you like that kind of thing, then yeah," he mumbled.

Edmund ordered, "Bring me the special liquor I served you not long after your arrival." The minotaur bowed, tail idly twitching from side to side as he walked to one of the tables beside the bed, scanning them with his dark, bovine eyes.

"I don't mean to insult you," Edmund explained. "In fact, of all of my current prisoners, you are the one for whom I have the most respect.

"For a lot of men, losing a limb like that would be very demoralising, on top of being thrown into jail by some of your own. But not you. I mean, here you are, probably planning to escape from my dungeon at this very minute, despite me sitting right next to you!"

Edmund laughed; it was a light and reedy laugh. "To be honest," he divulged, "I'm only really interested in keeping the others as prisoners; you, however, I understand."

"Because nobody likes either of us," Tim observed. The minotaur handed him a flask filled with a brown, spicy-smelling liquid.

Edmund's eyes lit up, exclaiming excitedly, "Exactly! We've had to do everything we've wanted to do on our own. Others despising us only seemed to make us stronger."

Tim cautiously glanced at the flask he'd been given. It smelled pretty good - he'd swiped some high-class, vintage stuff and it smelled quite a bit like this - but of course, this guy could have put something in it. Even though he'd seemed nice so far, he had been keeping him as a prisoner after all.

Edmund noticed this, and stated, "I've had you imprisoned for several days. Why would I do that if I was just going to poison you?"

Tim countered, "Maybe you didn't want me telling anyone about you being here?"

Edmund's eyebrow raised, "Who exactly would believe you, if you managed to survive crawling back to civilisation?"

Tim opened his mouth. He hadn't really planned that far ahead. Even if he could scrounge up decent-enough crutches, it was going to be a long trek back without the ability to get food or water.

Edmund's hand ran up the inside of Tim's leg, the other taking over to manipulate the stump, and through it his cock; the head was fully out of his foreskin, slick and bobbing. Tim shook his head, feeling vaguely unsettled. "Why the fuck is he doing that?" he wondered.

Edmund observed, "There are easier ways to buy your silence after all. I'm not without resources after all. Imagine if you could walk out of here on two full, strong legs."

"W-what?" Tim asked, a sudden erotic jolt passing through him. Edmund's hand fondled his balls as they jostled around in his sack.

Edmund explained, "Minotaur here is a relatively new recruit; he's only been here for a week, but his past experience as a guard has been invaluable. Of course, you've met before, but I doubt you'll recognize him now."

Tim, holding the flask away from himself over the side of the bed, felt his skin prickle with a sense of fear as he guessed what Edmund was about to say.

Edmund noticed the change in Tim's expression, and he said, "My Ogre - that's the green-skinned brute - found him while on patrol, washing dishes. I was in the mood for some fun, so I had him in here with my Satyr - that's the goat-man - before I offered him a position here. I think he turned out rather spectacularly."

Edmund's wandering hand left Tim's balls and started to run up and down the thief's leaking cock. "Now, imagine how easy it would be to give you back your leg, and make all sorts of other improvements to you."

Tim started to breathe heavily; having someone else working his shaft like this was really hot, even though it was a guy. He licked his lips, eyeing the flask. It smelled really good, and seemed to enhance the musky smell his crotch seemed to be giving off.

"Why don't you have a drink?" Edmund suggested. Tim nodded dumbly, quickly quaffing the contents of the flask. The alcohol burned and quickly soaked into his body filling him with a tingly intoxicated feeling that made him feel incredibly good.

Noticing Tim preparing to drop the flask in his hand, Edmund quickly snatched it away. Wordlessly, Minotaur came over and took away the flask, quickly resuming his pose.

Tim, meanwhile, was starting to feel incredibly frisky and ready to go; the alcoholic effects of the drink had overwhelmed his system. Grabbing Edmund, he quickly kissed him and started to grope and fondle at his body.

Edmund, slightly caught off-guard by the sudden switch, chuckled, "I suppose you've not had much to drink in a while, and it is a pretty intense beverage." His hand left Tim's cock, twisting the glassy-eyed thief, a dopey grin plastered on his face, and pinned him down on the bed. Under the sheets, he had been naked, his own erection bobbing against Tim as he held him down.

"Would you like your leg back?" Edmund asked, one hand gently teasing Tim's dick again, the other slowly circling his bared asshole.

Tim breathed, "Yeah." He felt his thoughts and emotions bubbling to the surface: being able to walk again would be marvellous. He knew there'd be a price - even in this state, he had enough sense to know such deals would come with a quid pro quo - but being whole again would be pretty fucking good.

"And what about being liked a lot more?" Edmund prompted his finger sliding up Tim's hole, making him buck and squirm. "I have some guys who would really like to play with you like this, make you feel good, fill in all that emptiness you have inside."

Tim nodded; it was hard to concentrate and he didn't really understand what Edmund was talking about, but he was feeling really good right now, having Edmund stick his finger up his ass, his cock liberally soaked in pre-cum. He found himself wondering what it would be like if he had a dick going in there, like he had seen the monsters doing when he'd been brought in.

It would be nice, he decided, to have all that attention on you, guys looking at you with lust, knowing you were there to fill there need, their huge fat cocks being thrust into your mouth and ass, your hands running along their thick, meaty shafts.

Edmund's head quickly wrapped around the end of Tim's shaft, his one hand stroking it increasing in speed as the skin between it and his ass came alive with contracting muscles.

Minotaur suddenly came over, slowly stroking his huge sheath. Tim looked at it, incredibly turned on by not only the size of it and the heavy, smooth balls underneath, but of the huge, manly bull-man himself. He wanted to reach out, and feel his hard muscular body, but he quickly had to grip on to the bed sheets as he had an incredibly intense orgasm.

Tim, quiet by his nature and former profession, became very loud, moaning and repeatedly exclaiming, "Yes!" as his hot ejaculate squirted into Edmund's mouth. Edmund knew some great tricks for enhancing this moment - something he did with by running his finger near his urethra made Tim particularly vocal - and he reminded himself to ask Edmund about it later on, though he'd probably have to use it on Edmund and the Ogre. The other guys, he'd have to learn about the differences between the human and the more bestial cocks with how to pleasure each one the best.

Edmund sucked him almost dry; Tim's cock became incredibly sensitive and he really almost couldn't take the pleasure. However, soon he felt pleasure as his saliva-streaked dick plopped wet and limply from Edmund's mouth.

"Delicious!" Edmund said; Tim suddenly felt very warm and giddy. The blood that had been keeping his cock stiff rushed to his face at the compliment.

"You're very good at that, sir," Tim complimented in return. "I've never had such an intense feeling -"

Edmund completed, licking his lips, "- with anyone before. Don't worry, you will get to feel that way very often from now on."

"You're going to make me into one of them now, aren't you?" Tim asked. "A monster?"

"Does that upset you?" Edmund asked.

Tim shook his head, "I'm a thief who can't sneak around without a lot of difficulty that everyone hates. If I'm going to be treated like a monster, I might as well be one."

Edmund smiled, "I thought you might feel that way after a bit of suggestion. I've already started turning you into one, preparing you, but you've taken it to it quite easily. I think because we're alike, you and I, so it was easier to relate to you."

"I'll get my leg back, right?" Tim asked hopefully.

Edmund nodded, "In fact, you should start feeling it growing back soon."

Tim's face lit up; it seemed as though years were being lifted as he felt somewhat optimistic for the first time a long time. Eagerly, he reached down and rubbed his stump, which made him wince as the sensation was reflected in his cock.

"You'll need it," Edmund explained, "I'm going to need someone with some experience at being sneaky and underhanded to help me with my future plans."

Edmund sat up on the bed, rubbing his own dick which had softened a little. "I bet there's something you want in your mouth now, though?" he prompted.

Tim nodded, slightly nervous at it being his first time despite the fact he was more than eager for it. In fact, his mouth seemed to water staring at the naked man sitting on the bed with him, who had so much power and yet willing to heal a thief and make him feel good. Flipping over onto his belly, he slid over to Edmund, pulling himself up onto his elbows, tentatively taking over the stroking of the other man's cock.

The skin on his face and hands prickled; Tim wanted to scratch them, but he was too eager to take his new master's cock in his mouth and try to give him even a little bit of the pleasure he'd been given before.

Starting nervously, Tim licked Edmund's shaft, feeling the prickling growing of the new fur spreading across his face. His hands were already too hairy to be fully human, but he really couldn't pay much attention to the soft, creamy white and oaken brown fur enveloping his body.

His face starting to reshape into a short muzzle, Tim's transforming lips separated and took the tip of Edmund's cock into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it. As he did, he felt a surge - almost like a mini-orgasm of mental pleasure - as the mass of his foreshortened leg extended.

Tim tried to remember the things Edmund had done when they had been in the reverse position, tightening his lips - as best he could, the growth of his muzzle was making it awkward, especially the sharpening of his teeth into tougher, sharper meat-tearers - like a greedy, eager calf at its mother's fat teats.

Edmund assisted, widening the stance of his legs to give more room for his newest servant to move as he pleasured him, gently thrusting in and out. Tim felt another burst of pleasure when he got the timing right, or when he used his tongue well, or when he didn't scrape the cock too much against his teeth. Each pleasure brought forth further growth in his reforming leg.

Soon he was bobbing his head, Tim's darkening, moist and extra-sensitive nose burying itself into Edmund's musky crotch, drooling over his cock. His new fur had spread down his forearms and over his head, his own hair gradually replaced with fur.

As his ears elongated into round, flat mustelid versions, he heard his Master's voice say, "You're doing well, my slutty little weasel, but I'm sure you'd like it more if you could take commands from your master more directly?"

Tim didn't answer directly, instead opting to increase his pleasuring of his master, working the shaft with the slightly-thickened, pad-like, dark skin of his palms while sucking gently on his master's testicles, turning over once again so his nose was buried right next to his Master's asshole.

"Very good," Tim heard in his head, earning him another burst; enough that his new, short and increasingly furry legs now both had ankles. "But you want to be a really sneaky little slut, don't you?"

"Yes, Master!" Tim begged. Although a little reluctant, he disengaged briefly from Edmund before turning around, exposing his rear to his master, and turning to face Minotaur, whose long, pink erection was jutting out at a heavy angle from the rippling muscles of the bull-man's taught torso.

As he did, he caught a quick glimpse of himself. Brown fur running down the back of his shorter-looking arms, and over his shoulders, was also just visible on his cheeks, his front was almost covered with a lighter shade. This reached down as far as his ribcage, where a line demarcated the still-human remnants, before being interrupted by a sparser coating of fur on his one old, slowly reshaping leg, and the new leg that looked more of like what the other would eventually turned into: the leg of an animal, subtly adapted to working - at least some of the time - as a biped and quadruped.

Tim hungrily grabbed at the bull-man's rump, digging the tips of his darkening, thickening nails slightly into their firm, toned flesh to keep him upright. His rough tongue lolled out, sliding around the sheath's opening, teasing Minotaur.

While he did so, he raised his ass up, feeling his Master's hands pushing open his hole with a couple of urgent fingers, stretching him open and rubbing his natural juices around to ready Tim's ass for hard fucking.

The prickling spread outwards from his hole as Edmund reshaped Tim the way he wanted him to be: his hole loosened up as fur spread outwards, and the beginnings of a tail sprouted like a fat, fleshy finger.

Minotaur hoisted Tim's monstrous upper-body upwards as he climbed onto the bed as well, guiding the increasingly weasel-like thief to the pointed tip of his eager shaft. With all three being subtly controlled by Edmund, this also allowed Tim to be impaled quickly by his demanding cock.

Tim moaned as he felt his fuzzy ass slam down against his Master's pelvis, his guts stretched by the invasive erection in a rather painful way that he still really desired. His mouth opened wide, his elongating torso allowing him to take Minotaur's cock in his mouth.

While his body bounced between the two cocks, one slamming into the back of his throat as he held on tightly to Minotaur's ass while his own slapped up against his Master, Tim felt his own cock stiffening again as the fur enveloped his genitals, his foreskin sprouting fur as the rest of his cock gained a more animal shape.

"It's time, Weasel, to give up your old life completely," Edmund commanded. The new, nearly-complete monster agreed: the past was the past, and he wouldn't forget it, but it felt more like a cautionary tale as to how bad humanity was. No wonder he loved it when he, his Master and the other monsters fucked!

Weasel felt his Master's seed squirt up, splattering his insides, the sensation tingling through him; his master was contented, and he felt the final surge that completed the restoration of his leg: the sharp black claws, and the final toughening of the padding. After a strong burst, a short, thick, healthy-looking tail had finished forcing its way out of his body.

Weasel wasn't too interested though, in the last traces of his old human body disappearing. That had been someone else, after all. He was just happy he had gotten his master off, and was more than pleased to feel Minotaur's thick cock sliding in and out.

Edmund's cock pulsed several times, Weasel clenching his sphincter tight to force out the last few drips, before sliding off. For anyone other than his Master, Weasel would have turned all of his attention to the cock in his mouth, and hopefully the next one in his ass, but this was his Master after all.

Turning around, he started to lick Edmund's cock clean, earning himself a burst of approval. "You will make a good addition," Edmund informed him. "I think you will find the others will be pleased to break you in a little more, and I have to rest."

"Yes, Master," thought Weasel, inquiring concernedly, "You are happy and well, aren't you?"

"I am most pleased with you," Edmund thought back. "But I need to think of how best to handle the next guest. Away with you!"

Weasel grinned, his sharp teeth showing, as Minotaur picked him up and carried him out of their Master's chamber.