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The Rat's Voodoo For Zsisron by Draconicon

Bertrand ran a thick fingered hand down his back as he pulled himself out of the swamp water. The slime and bits of moss sticking to the gator's scales fell to the ground pretty quick, but the leeches futilely trying to get through his scales took a bit more work. He reached around, plucking them off of his bare back and chest before throwing them to the mud under his toes.

"Pains in the ass."

He stepped on one as he started walking, mud-stained shorts clinging to the base of his tail and his hips. The gator would have preferred to keep swimming, all things considered, but this part of the swamp was too shallow for any but the hatchlings of his kind.

Ducking a tree, he chuckled. Bertrand was more than ten feet tall, and that was the main reason he preferred swimming. No ducking, no having to watch where he stepped so he didn't knock something down. Nope, just a plain swim that took him where he needed to go, and got him what he needed to eat.

He shoved several annoying vines out of the way as he kept pushing through the undergrowth. Despite his size, he was trying to move a bit quieter than he normally would. After all, this was the Shallow Swamp. Things that made too much noise got noticed here, and while he could handle bigger predators, there were some things - legendary things -that he didn't know if he could deal with.

Bertrand stepped over another stump before he noticed something through some of the branches. At first he thought it was just some swamp-light, or fireflies coming out early, but it was too steady for that. He narrowed his eyes, peering through the thick plants, and eventually realized he was looking through a window, at a fire. He cocked his head to the side.

"What sort of moron lives out here?"

His instincts told him to stay away, but there was something about the fire that attracted him, something that told him it would be good to look into. Besides, his body was cold; the water wasn't that warm anymore, and as he was still wet, it'd be good to dry off. Maybe the owner of the fire would be willing to share. '

All those reasons and more filled his head faster than he expected. Normally he avoided people, but with all those good reasons, why shouldn't he?

His toes squelched through the mud as he made his way towards the hut and the fire inside. It drew him on strongly, and before long he found himself anticipating the warmth inside as much as he did finding out who lived there.

It didn't take long to reach the back of the hut, and as he circled it, he grumbled in frustration. The place wasn't even as tall as he was; the person living there must have been absolutely tiny to fit in such a little thing. It reached maybe to his chest, a little past seven feet, but the door was only five. Maybe if he crawled he might have fit inside, but that was if he could fit through it, and he doubted that the home-maker had managed to make the door wide enough for someone like him.

Sure enough, that was the case. He groaned, but leaned forward anyway. His fist was nearly big enough to cover half of the door, and he felt it give under his knocks.

"Yes?"

The voice from inside was almost more of a squeak than anything else. Either a rat or a mouse, and in a swamp, it would be a rat, Bertrand thought.

"You got a fire. Share it."

"Oh, someone out there? Someone traveling, per-haps?"

The strange accent made him think of some of the city frenchies, those that kept sounding so proper. The gator grunted, but answered.

"Yeah, traveling. You gonna come out and share that heat or what?"

"Oh one moment, one moment."

The door opened, and the gator realized that the rat - he'd been right - living here wasn't even half his size. Maybe four feet tall, if that. The rodent wasn't even dressed, either, but naked, covered only in strange white patterns writ clear on his fur.

But he recognized them, taking a step back.

"Voodoo."

"Yes, but good voodoo. Bad voodoo, no good for you."

He was about to turn, but the rat raised the torch he held, and the fire caught his attention again, holding him in place. It was so warm looking, and he was so cold.

"Just stay a bit. You'll like it, I promise."

"No tricks?"

"No tricks."

The gator slowly sat himself down. Even like this, he was still a few inches taller than the rat, if not more, and he put out his hands around the fire. It crackled and flickered, and he sighed in relief as his hands started to warm up. The heat spread along his scales, giving him some wonderful relief from the chill that had started settling in.

He rubbed his hands along his arms to spread the heat along, but couldn't take his eyes off of the fire. As the sun kept going down, it was the only light in the area, and it was so easy to just let his eyes rest on it.

Of course, it was a little more startling when the rat threw some powder on it and it nearly exploded, but the color changes kept him entranced. Bertrand felt that something was off, but the heat was so good, and the light show so interesting that he couldn't look away.

At some point, he realized that he was laying on his stomach, and that his shorts were no longer in the way. If anything, he was starting to grind his belly and his crotch through the mud, and he blinked, wondering why he was doing that.

Then the rat put another powder over the fire, and the soft scent and the gentle pink color of the fire lulled away his worries.

A gentle hand pushed against his side, and he rolled over. Water poured over his cock, running the mud away from him, and more poured over his legs and stomach. He felt it sliding off, but it was so hard to think of anything but the fire, and he turned his head to keep looking at it. He was looking just past the rat - who looked as hard as he did, he realized distantly - and smiled at the flickering, dancing colors.

The rat moved, but he didn't care. It felt good, whatever he was doing, and the rat's stroking fingers were not a threat to him. All he needed was the nice...warm...fire...burning away and taking away the cold...taking away his thoughts.

He lay there dumbly as the rat moved over him, sitting on his leg. He could just see him, grabbing hold of the gator's cock, squeezing it and rubbing against it. The size difference was such that the rat was nearly double the size of the gator's cock, positively tiny against it, and the gator's endowment throbbed at the touch of the rat's body. He groaned in a low tone, his body thrumming softly with pleasure, with the need of more of that touch.

Everything was so hard to focus on, his attention going from the fire to his shaft. It felt like it was tingling, like something was rubbing into it. His eyes bleary, he tried to focus them on the rat.

"Wh...what..."

"No tricks, nothing bad. Good voodoo for you."

"But...why..."

"This is special. I will have, and you will like."

The gator groaned as the rat started really working him, grinding and rubbing at his shaft. And just like that, his mind was gone, his eyes locked on the night sky through the branches. So much time had passed staring at the fire that he never noticed that the sun had set completely, never noticed that he was here after dark, in the hands of this rat.

He didn't care. Bertrand lay still, his body unable to move, his mind unable to know what moving meant as his cock was milked, stroked, teased constantly by the voodoo user. He panted softly, his chest rising and falling as dollops of pre the size of the rat's hand oozed out of his shaft. Bertrand barely realized it; he just knew that it felt incredibly good, and he didn't want it to stop.

Somewhere between then and midnight - he was too out of it to know when - he felt the pleasure surge to a peak. Bertrand's eyes rolled back in his head from the sheer delight of it, and he felt it rain.

Pierre smirked as the flood of cum from the gator's cock finally came to a halt, dismounting the large beast as he hunted for some of the vials that he kept around his property. It didn't take long, but he was almost frantic when he pulled them out from under a rock.

Hurry, hurry, before it dries! Must have, must have.

The rat scurried along, scooping the gator's slimy, plentiful seed into the different vials and capping them off. Much of it had gotten into his fur, but a fair bit of it had landed on the visitor's scales as well, and that was what he needed to harvest. Uncontaminated seed, for the other rituals he had.

He wasn't lying. Voodoo he did was good, and it helped people. Just look; it had helped this gator get through an enormous amount of stress, and helped him purge something he'd been backed up with for far too long. Pierre just did it in a very different way.

Smiling as he capped off the third vial, the rat walked around the gator, moving to his head. He moved forward, standing with his bare, big balls hanging over the gator's snout, and let him breathe in the musk a few times.

"Remember Pierre. Remember, and come to the Shallow Swamp again. You have much seed. Save it for me."

It should stick. It usually did.

Now he just needed to make sure that he was ready for the crocodile that would come the day after tomorrow. That one would need not one, but four fires to keep down. He looked forward to the challenge; besides, that croc was even more fun than this gator.

The End