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“Your Highness?” The leopard courtier looked flustered.

“You heard me.” The yellow and white-furred fox—meticulously groomed and impeccably dressed in his silk shirt, crushed velvet vest, frilly cravat, tight and starched trousers, knee-high boots, and ceremonial sash of office—was the very picture of an impatient and demanding prince, tapping his foot and scowling at the courtier before him.

“I…yes, sir, but your associates—”

“Are to be announced as my escort,” the prince coolly stated, cutting off the guard’s attempted protest.

The courtier, dressed in the standard livery of the castle attendants, hesitated as he surveyed the small group demanding entry to the throne room. While the prince was utterly spotless in his royal finery and appeared more than ready to meet the king, his entourage looked more like a roving band of unsavory barbarians, especially the massive bear standing right beside the comparatively diminutive prince and glaring down at the courtier; the ursine was an imposing mountain of brown-furred muscle, sporting a leather breastplate that covered only his chest and left his thick, burly stomach on display, while his leather breeches bore countless stains and scratches in addition to the steel codpiece covering his groin. Complete with a scuffed leather pauldron over his left shoulder, a thick ring pierced through his septum and a stud through his right ear, a patch on his right eye, scars that criss-crossed his beefy arms and grizzled snout, and an array of lethal weapons hanging from his belt, the bear was clearly more of a savage mercenary than a refined member of the prince’s retinue.

And yet Malloy—the prince who had gone missing for nine months and turned up at last—was here, now, demanding an audience with the king for himself and his dozen or so…new friends…

The leopard gulped, then nodded uneasily, hoping that he could use the excuse that he was “simply following orders” if he got into trouble for letting such ruffians enter the throne room along with the prince.

“Very well, sir…a moment, please.”

Grif, the bear standing beside Malloy, chuckled smugly as he watched the leopard turn and open the tall, impressive oak doors that led to the royal chamber.

“Ready?” he murmured to the shorter fox standing next to him.

“Of course,” Malloy snickered quietly.

Grif grinned cockily—everything was going according to plan so far. They’d made it past the palace guards, encountered no resistance from any of the other attendants they’d passed as they’d sauntered through the castle, and now all they had to do was waltz into the throne room to enact the final stages of their scheme…Malloy had been playing his part perfectly so far, he now just had to be convincing enough for his father…

The oak doors swung open, revealing the grand chamber within—tall, stained-glass windows let in gloriously multi-colored gems of light, while a wide swath of sumptuous, gold-embroidered carpet led across the polished wooden floor to the dais on the far side of the room. And there, beyond the advisors and nobles and guardsmen gathered on either side of the carpet, and beneath the red velvet drapes that bore the seal of the kingdom of Perault, sat King Ruprecht himself on his imperial throne.

“Your Majesty! Announcing His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Malloy! And his escort,” the leopard added hastily as Malloy purposefully strode the carpet towards his father, with Grif arrogantly swaggering beside him and his fifteen fellow mercenaries trooping along behind him.

A hushed, collective gasp rose from the royal court. Heads turned, whispers quietly hissed, and eyebrows furrowed as the whole room stared at the young fox who traipsed towards the king.

Ruprecht, formidable as ever at 55 years old with a strapping physique suited for a strong monarch, looked like he’d seen a ghost. It was almost comical to see the king—dressed in his decoratively-embroidered tunic, polished shoes, shining leather trousers, and wearing the elegant golden circlet of his crown—so speechless, with his eyes wide and his normally-straight back slumped in his throne.

Grif chuckled again, imagining the conflict that was tearing through the king’s mind. The worst-kept secret in all of Perault was the fact that King Ruprecht was embarrassed of his son and considered Malloy to be an incredible disappointment (and Grif had to agree that Malloy would make for a lousy king, as far as kings go). Couple that disappointment with the shock, sadness, and guilt of then having his child—his only heir—go missing for the better part of a year, and now…well, it must have been driving Ruprecht mad with both relief and exasperation to suddenly see Malloy in the flesh at last, apparently unharmed, but in the company of thieves, rogues, and bandits, who were soiling his beautiful palace with their dirty bare feet and mud-encrusted boots.

“I…Malloy, is it you?” King Ruprecht asked, his voice shaky.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Malloy replied steadily as he came to a stop before the throne. He knelt in front of his father, as if pledging his fealty to the king, while Grif and the rest of his entourage stood idly by.

“But…what happened? Where have you—”

“Agents of Karenno abducted me during one of my…ill-advised wanderings, so the fault for going missing is mine,” Malloy started, speaking clearly and loudly enough for everyone in the chamber to hear his well-rehearsed explanation. He gestured to the tall bear standing beside him as he went on, “By chance, Grif and his friends here caught onto what was happening as I was being transported across the border, and they mounted a rescue. We became good friends as they escorted me all the way from Karenno; I would have sent a message ahead if I could, but I couldn’t risk being discovered if my letter was intercepted…but I am here now, ready to resume my duties as Crown Prince,” he added, pointedly looking up at the king.

Grif smirked—the fox sounded perfectly natural as he spoke, even though every line of what he said was a complete lie. Yet Ruprecht seemed to be eating up his son’s deception hook, line, and sinker; he was smiling gratefully, leaning forward as if to see more of Malloy in his finery, and his yellow and white-furred tail twitched happily as he nodded.

“I’m…I’m glad to have you back!” Ruprecht’s voice shook again, but this time from emotion instead of shock. “I’ve missed you, and…it pleases me to see you well. I shall need to call on our ambassador from Karenno, but…in the meantime, I thank your friends for returning you to me intact,” he added intentionally, gazing at Grif and the rest of his band.

Grif nodded disinterestedly, trying not to show the king too much attention or respect, while a few of his fellows—an orc, wolf, and hyena—leered and sneered back at the monarch.

“I…please, excuse us.” Ruprecht addressed the court at large as he pushed himself up from his throne, rising to his full height of 6’2”. “I need the room with my son and his companions.”

Intrigued murmurs arose from the crowd, but the aristocrats, nobles, and advisors compliantly shuffled towards the doors, clearing the chamber. Soon, the only people left in the throne room were Malloy, the king, Grif and his mercenaries, and the dozen armored guards who remained at their posts by the doors, windows, and throne.

Ruprecht descended the steps from the dais to approach Malloy, who had risen to his own feet by now. When the chamber doors closed to keep the court from re-entering, the king smiled and clapped his hands on the prince’s shoulders.

“Truly, I’m glad to have you back,” he said sincerely. Ruprecht smiled down at his son before he asked with a note of concern in his voice, “Did anything happen when you were kidnapped? Did they hurt you at all?”

Malloy shook his head, keeping the king’s attention on him while Grif’s contingent of men subtly positioned themselves to align with the guards stationed around the room. “No, I’m fine—I was just a little shaken, but they didn’t do anything more to me than tie me up and gag me. Grif and his friends treated me well on the way back, too; he actually took it upon himself to be my champion.”

“Really?” Ruprecht asked dubiously.

“Yes, he protected me from quite a few bandits and bartered for our safe passage; the way he fights is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I dare say he could even best your personal champion, Sir Penchen.”

Ruprecht chuckled. “The day I see Sir Penchen beaten will be the day hell freezes over and pigs fly.”

Malloy winked. “You never know, that day could come sooner than later.”

“True…it’s a good thing he’s not here to hear you say he could be beaten, he’d take that as a personal challenge to a duel right here and now.”

“I’ll be ready for him, Your Majesty,” Grif contributed politely.

“Indeed.” Ruprecht spared Grif a quick glance before he focused his attention on Malloy again. “And you truly feel you’re ready to resume your duties as Crown Prince?”

Malloy grimaced almost bashfully. “To be honest, I feel ready for more than that.”

Ruprecht chuckled. “Well, the throne will come to you soon enough. For now, I’m just glad to have you back…and I take it you’ve learned from the consequences of your, ah…rambunctiousness?” he asked.

Unnoticed by Ruprecht, Grif smirked as he heard the king dance around the direct question he intended to ask. He knew that older fox meant to inquire, “And have you finally learned why you shouldn’t go whoring around like some filthy slut who raises his tail for any barbarian to fuck senseless?”, but his royal decorum would never allow him to use such a blunt or profane tactic. But the bear’s smirk twisted further into a satisfied grin when he heard Malloy’s response.

“Oh, I’d say the lessons have stuck with me well,” the prince said suggestively. “Grif actually helped me see the error of my ways and made me realize the importance of what I’m truly meant for.”

“He did?” Ruprecht sounded genuinely surprised.

Malloy nodded solemnly.

Ruprecht coughed to clear his throat before he properly addressed the bear, who was gazing around the room to check that his men were in position and at the ready for the signal. “Well, uh…Sir Grif—”

“Just ‘Grif’, Your Highness,” the bear corrected him, his tone even.

“Well…Grif, it seems I…owe you a debt of gratitude for taking such good care of my son and ensuring the future of the crown,” the king said, his reluctance and unease clear as day in his voice.

Grif chuckled as he looked down at the king; the bear was just over seven feet tall and towered over both foxes who stood before him. “Well, when one’s got a personal interest in the future of the crown, one does everything he can to keep it safe,” he cryptically growled.

Ruprecht frowned, confused. “Personal interest?”

“A deeply personal interest, if you catch my drift,” Grif rumbled. He nodded carelessly at Malloy as he added, “Although maybe your boy here should spell it out for you instead.”

The king bristled at the blatant disrespect. “You can address him as ‘Prince Malloy’.”

“Actually, he can address me however he likes,” the younger fox took over, speaking with such authority that Ruprecht stared at him in surprise. “‘Bitch’, ‘breeding sow’, ‘cuntboy’, ‘foxy’, ‘piglet’…‘Slop’ is my preferred name for him to use, though,” he noted.

Ruprecht’s eyes were wide in indignance at the profane names his son had just casually stated. “Bi…Slop? I—”

“And about that debt of gratitude,” Grif said over the king’s outrage, “I know the perfect way you can pay me back.”

“What?”

Snap!

The instant that Grif snapped his fingers, two things happened:

First, his men sprang into action, rushing the guards by the windows, throne, and doors. The mercenaries moved with such alacrity and used such brutal, overwhelming force against the palace guards (who were hampered by both their clunky armor and the fact that they were nobles who only “fought with honor”) that the king’s men were quickly subdued by Grif’s band and their underhanded-but-effective tactics. The fighting was over in the span of a few vicious, frantic seconds, with the mercenaries pinning their opponents to the floor by chokeholds, weapons pointed at vital areas, and sheer bodyweight.

And second, in the ensuing chaos of the sudden struggles around the room, Malloy slugged Ruprecht in the jaw so hard that the king tumbled to the floor in a daze. As Ruprecht went down, Malloy quickly snatched the crown from his father’s head, holding it in his left paw while he shook his stinging and aching right hand.

Pained and angry grunts from the palace guards echoed around the room before settling to huffing pants and defeated groans, and Malloy triumphantly chuckled as he looked down on his father, still shaking the paw he’d used to sucker-punch the king. “Ah, damn, did that hurt, but it felt so good!”

Ruprecht, stunned, shocked, and enraged, spluttered as he looked up at his son. “W-what have you done? What’s the meaning of this?”

Hissing with anger and still in pain from the blow to his jaw, the king tried to stand up, but Grif quickly stomped on the older fox’s chest, pinning him down to the floor with his heavy, muddy, steel toe-capped boot. Ruprecht squirmed, trying to free himself, but the bear’s foot was immovable, and as Grif ground his boot on the king’s beautiful tunic, he pressed hard enough on the fox’s chest to strain his ribs and make him wheeze for air.

Malloy, however, snickered as he leered down at the beaten king, at the father that had caused him so much grief and anger over the years. “Well, I told you I was ready for more than just being Crown Prince…but I think you and I have different ideas of what that means,” he clarified. “And as for Grif’s personal interest in the crown…well, that’s because it’s his now, and he’s got an heir on the way.”

Ruprecht choked. “What?! Wait, no-no-no-no—”

The king could only look on in horror as Malloy handed the crown to Grif, who placed it on his own head. The small, ovular ruby embedded in the front of the golden circlet glowed a deep, resplendent red as soon as the crown touched the top of Grif’s head.

“No! Guards! Stop him!” Ruprecht managed to howl out, but it was too late.

Gazing around the room, Grif saw the royal crown’s enchantment take effect—the eyes of every guard in the chamber glowed blood red with magic, sealing the powerful compulsion spell that Malloy had described when Grif had started hatching his plan to take the throne of Perault. Once the bear had finished making the young prince into his personal possession, he couldn’t stop thinking about more…about taking everything that the fox was heir to, about wresting control of the country away from the fox’s family at last…

Fortunately, Malloy was all too eager to provide his assistance to the dominating bear who had abducted him, modified his body, and raped him repeatedly. The fox wanted nothing more than to be a good bitch for Grif, to please the giant man who had forcefully taken ownership of him and transformed him into what he had always been destined to be: a sloppy, fuckable hole who was happiest with a thick cock either in his pussy or shoved down his throat. And so, Malloy—or “Slop”, as Grif had taken to calling him—was happy to give every piece of information he could to help the powerful bear take his father’s throne and kingdom, including the fact that any guard or courtier who had taken an oath to serve the monarch of the realm was magically bound to the crown itself, not to the individual sovereign. It was a spell that ensured the loyalty of the people in closest proximity to the ruler, those who were entrusted with the crown’s safety, and ultimately the safety of Perault as a nation. Of course, there was a reason why the crown was kept under the strictest protection and only ever worn by the reigning monarch—anyone else who wore it would automatically be granted the position of sovereign with the absolute ability to command the royal guards, the whole court of nobles, and the nation’s army. And now, Grif was the man in charge, as signified by the lustrous red glow that was beginning to fade in the eyes of every guard in the room.

“It seems there’s been a transition in power,” the huge bear chuckled. He nodded at the orc who had restrained one of the guards by the throne; the burly, green-skinned, hirsute, and tusked brute released his captive, a muscular, armored bull who remained on his knees.

“Keep the former king restrained,” Grif commanded.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the bull replied obediently, rising to his feet. He strode over to Ruprecht, still pinned to the floor under Grif’s boot.

As soon as Grif removed his foot from the fox’s chest, the bull who had once been staunchly loyal to Ruprecht roughly dragged the old man up to his knees and held his arms behind his back. The bull forced his former king to turn on his knees to face the throne as both Grif and Slop now approached the dais and the luxuriously cushioned golden chair. As Grif nonchalantly waltzed up to the chair, his mercenaries around the room released their captives as well—now that the palace guards were bound to Grif’s will, there was no reason to keep them restrained any longer.

“Well, who knew it’d be so easy to take over a kingdom?” Grif boasted as he heavily dropped down to sit on the throne.

He settled on the luxurious velvet upholstery and stretched his legs, kicking off his boots as he did so to really make himself at home. While Slop stood patiently by his side like a royal attendant himself, Grif chuckled as he watched Ruprecht’s face contort in irritated discomfort at the sight of the bear shoving off his dirty, worn boots to free his feet; a musky, faintly cheesy pungence practically steamed off of the ursine’s huge, padded, bare soles, wafting towards the former king, who turned up his sensitive nose in disgust…while Slop happily sniffed the air, drinking in the scent as he stared down at Grif’s paws like they were the biggest jewels in the royal treasury.

Grif sighed as he curled and flexed his toes and stretched his arches before stacking his feet comfortably, and he idly continued, “Forget about politics or using an invading army, all I needed was a Crown Prince who’s happy to give me the crown to spite his goat-fucker of a father…nicely done, Slop,” he added praisingly, raising a meaty hand to cup the fox’s rump next to him.

“Thank you, Papa Bear,” Slop tittered as Grif shamelessly groped his ass.

Chuckles and snickers of delight rose from the band of mercenaries around the room—they always got a kick out of Slop referring to Grif with that moniker the bear had ordered the fox to use.

Still huffing in anger and pain, Ruprecht sneered up at the bear on the throne, and his voice shook with rage as he said, “Surely…we can come to some diplomatic solution here…what do you want?”

“What do I want?” Grif repeated sardonically before he chuckled. “This isn’t a negotiation—I already won, I already got what I wanted. You don’t really have anything to offer me, Ruprecht.”

“You…I can give you money and amnesty, for you and your…companions,” Ruprecht offered.

“Hm, tempting,” Grif said as he lazily scratched his chin. He shrugged and snickered, “But technically I already got both of those now.”

More chuckles and chortles sounded around the room, the mercenaries enjoying the spectacle of the former king’s futile bargaining. The fox glared angrily at the men who had subdued his guards…then at the young fox who had betrayed him and the bear who had taken his crown.

“I…GET OFF MY THRONE!” Ruprecht yelled at the top of his lungs, seething as he struggled to free himself from the bull guard who kept him restrained.

The older fox’s voice boomed around the throne room like thunder, and for a moment Grif could see and hear the king who had once been “Ruprecht the Unyielding”…but the bear smirked and shook his head. All he could see and hear now was just a petulant, upset man of no real importance.

“No, I don’t think I will,” Grif chuckled. “It’s not your throne anymore, Ruprecht…it’s mine now. Just like everything in this castle’s mine, and this country’s mine, too.”

Ruprecht’s chest heaved from the force of his yelling, but his voice was cold and determined when he said, “Your head will end up on a pike, the people will never stand for it.”

Grif scoffed. “Please, it’s as if you only think of the nobility—you have no idea how much people like me hate having you and your family parading yourselves like you know what’s best for us. It’s time for a change. So, the masses’ll happily stand for it, and the nobility’ll stand for it if there’s an army telling them to.”

“You have no right,” Ruprecht countered.

The bear grinned as he gripped Slop’s ass tightly in his dinner plate-sized paw. “Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong, Ruprecht; I’ve got the right. You were bested in combat—what little combat there was—the crown was taken from you, and now I’ve got the keys to the kingdom. Besides, with an heir on the way, the people’ll have a new royal house to support.”

The restrained fox frowned. “What do you mean, an heir on the way? A savage like you could only ever father a horde of filthy, degenerate bastards.”

“Heh, aren’t we all filthy, degenerate bastards in some way? Even you?” Grif asked rhetorically. “You might claim your bloodline’s pure and royal, but it’s really just as dirty and common as mine—the only fancy thing about it is that you can trace it back to the last person who took the crown in the first place. But then again, you might have a point.” The bear nodded mockingly, pretending to concede to the deposed king. “The people might not accept a bastard born of some ‘savage’ they’ve never heard of before. It’d probably help if he married into the previous royal family and then…what’s the word…ah! ‘Consummated’ the marriage to produce the newest heir to the throne. Always good to secure the legacy for the future, after all,” Grif added with a wink. “And fortunately, ol’ Grif’s nabbed himself the perfect consort who’s already received my seed and is happily bearing my sons and heirs.”

Ruprecht scowled, fuming. “And who would that be?”

“Hm? Oh! Heh, you’re looking right at him, but you can’t see him, can you?” Grif chuckled—he playfully smacked Slop’s backside, jostling the fox and earning an appreciative grunt from the teen. “Here, this’ll help you see…”

Grif removed his hand from Slop’s rump and raised his hefty paw to the boy’s chest, where he tapped directly in the middle of the fox’s sternum.

Slop’s yellow and white fur coat shimmered, as if it were as insubstantial as a heat mirage…before it began to disappear, like someone was wiping away condensation from a window. The change began at the top of the fox’s head, with the lofty tuft of yellow fur between his ears melting away to nothingness…then his ears themselves seemed to melt as their white and yellow fur vanished, leaving behind only the bare, pink flaps of skin that protruded from the sides of his head, which was rapidly losing the rest of his coat.

Grif chuckled, his eyes on Ruprecht’s horrified expression as the older fox watched his son’s metamorphosis. “Heh, like what you see?” he snickered as the illusion of Slop’s fur melted away like butter in a hot pan.

Ruprecht could only splutter as he saw Slop’s fur disappear from his face and muzzle, exposing the boy’s pink skin…and revealing the messy streaks of green paint that had been daubed over the fox’s eyes, across his forehead, on the tips of his ears, down his cheeks, above and below his lips, and tracing down along his jawline to his neck. In addition to exposing the tribal-esque body paint, Slop’s transformation further revealed the steel studs pierced through his eyebrows and several rings pierced through his ears that connected with chains to a large ring pierced through his septum.

Slop’s clothes remained intact and in place, as they weren’t part of the illusion spell that Grif had cast on the boy, but the rest of his fur continued to disappear beneath the costume that he had donned. The dispelled glamor enchantment worked its way down along Slop’s body; his already-tight vest constricted even further around the extra girth that was now visible in his torso, while his fur melted off inch by inch. His skin was bare beneath his clothes, and soon the illusion disappeared from his exposed tail—leaving behind only a whip-like cord of flesh and bone that hung from the backside of his trousers—and his hands, which had also been decorated with green body paint on the tips of his fingers and the insides of his palms. A steel band on his left ring finger glimmered into view as the illusion enchantment faded, and Slop, now revealed and no longer needing to act the prim and proper prince, panted hungrily, his tongue hanging out to show off the thick stud that had been pierced through it.

Ruprecht stared in disbelief. “What have you done to him?” he demanded.

“Heh, and here I was thinking you’d be pleased your boy ended up married!” Grif chortled, raising his left hand to show off the steel band he wore that matched the one on Slop’s ring finger. “Although you probably didn’t want him eloping with some brute in the forest, huh? Ah well, can’t get everything you want…but tying the knot with him was just the start. There’s plenty more,” Grif grunted as he pushed himself up from the throne to stand again. “I had to put some work into making your boy my consort, so it’d be a real shame if you didn’t get to see every inch of the little whore now.”

The bear pulled Slop to stand in front of him and face the fox still restrained and kneeling on the floor. Towering behind the former prince, Grif reached around Slop’s torso and grasped the fastened front flaps of his vest.

Riiiip! Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!

With an almighty yank, Grif tore the vest, sash, and shirt apart, ripping the fabric and making buttons fly. The torn ceremonial sash that had once hung across Slop’s chest fluttered to the floor while the vest and shirt hung loosely from the boy’s shoulders, exposing more of his bare skin beneath. The cravat, however, remained around Slop’s neck, but Grif easily unfastened the strip of cloth and dropped it before spreading the young fox’s collar open to better display his neck and chest.

Ruprecht recoiled when he saw that the green body paint on his son’s pink skin extended down along the young fox’s throat and over his clavicle…then grimaced at the sight of the two large, messy, green handprints—obviously Grif’s—adorning Slop’s thicker pectorals.

Grif smirked as he noticed that Ruprecht’s eyes were on the young fox’s chest—he had a feeling that even the boy’s own father wouldn’t be able to resist looking at that particular feature.

And the bear was right; as discomforting as it was for Ruprecht to see that Grif had clearly put his paws all over the former prince, the former king couldn’t help but ogle his son’s chest. Where before Malloy had been slim and quite flat of breast, the Slop standing before him now looked like he had developed a small yet gorgeous pair of tits. They were plump with more fatty tissue and were just starting to visibly hang with their increased weight; the cleft of the fox’s sternum was now a somewhat deeper valley between the two mounds instead of the shallow channel it had once been. And, of course, as Ruprecht stared at his son’s small bosom, he saw the steel rings that had been pierced through his nipples and were connected to each other with a chain that drooped in the middle, forming a handle for anyone to grab and pull Slop by the perpetually raised nubs of flesh in the middle of his darker areolas.

“Now, see this?” Grif asked, directing Ruprecht’s attention back up to Slop’s throat.

The bear pressed a thick finger to the fox’s neck, where his Adam’s apple should have been…but there was simply a soft and smooth column now, without the defining, masculine topography of the cartilage that had once covered the front of his larynx.

“No more pesky Adam’s apple—just one of the things I took that used to make your boy…well, a boy,” Grif explained smugly.

Ruprecht gulped, repulsed by the body modification that Grif had pointed out. “You’re…that’s vile! How dare you violate him like that!”

Grif just laughed at the former king’s indignance. “Oh don’t act so high and mighty! I saw you get an eyeful of his tits already.”

“I don’t—”

“Ah, see! Looking at them again!” Grif pointed out when he saw the fox’s eyes flick back down to Slop’s chest.

The mercenary had caught him red handed, as Ruprecht had glanced at his son’s breasts again in spite of himself…and he stared when he watched the bear cup Slop’s bosom in his massive hands.

“That’s it…you like seeing your son with a nice little pair of tits like this, eh?” Grif teased as he began suggestively rolling Slop’s small breasts in his paws…then gently kneaded them, rubbing his thumbs and fingers on them before he pinched and squeezed the hard, raisin-like, pierced nipples.

“Nngh! Oooh…that feels good, Papa Bear,” Slop huffed, wriggling into Grif’s broad, embracing arms while the burly bear’s thick fingers continued fondling and playing with his breasts. When Slop spoke, his voice now sounded thicker and raspier, as if his vocal cords were slathered with a constant coating of bear cum.

Ruprecht couldn’t look away. It was like he was getting hypnotized by the sight that he knew was so wrong, yet he had to keep watching the bear molest his son like this…even when Grif tauntingly growled at him, “That’s my boy…love playing with these little sugar sacks of his.” He leaned down slightly, just enough to kiss the top of Slop’s head—the kiss wasn’t tender, it wasn’t soft…it was the kiss of a predator tasting his meal, an intrusive display of ownership and dominance. And as if to affirm that fact, the bear rumbled, “And all that sugar belongs Papa Bear now.”

Ruprecht gulped again, at a loss for words…yet his body was reacting in a way he couldn’t fully comprehend…didn’t want to think about…

The bear chuckled smugly, glancing down at the former king’s crotch; in the older fox’s leather trousers, there was enough of a bulge forming that Grif knew Ruprecht was enjoying the show on some level, much as he’d want to deny it. Well, perhaps to corrupt the former king further, Grif would just have to tease him a little more before he really showed him the fucktoy that Slop had become.

Grif clenched his right hand around Slop’s right breast while he lowered his left hand to the chain that dangled from the fox’s pierced nipples. He tugged, pulling on the little nips and eliciting a soft moan from Slop while Ruprecht looked on, stunned.

“Heh, even though there were some things I took from your boy, I did give him a few things, too…like these perfectly squeezable, grabbable tits. He looks so good with them, doesn’t he?” Grif asked mockingly, addressing Ruprecht.

“You…I…” Ruprecht was speechless.

“Mmm, oh, that’s a yes for sure,” Grif snickered. He then released his hold on Slop’s right breast and the nipple chain before he growled in the young fox’s furless ear, “Heh, why don’t you shake those little sugar sacks of yours, Slop? Give your ol’ daddy a little show.”

Slop grinned and nodded happily. “Oooh, yessir, Papa Bear!”

Like some whore showing off her wares on show in a brothel, Slop began to exotically gyrate and twist his shoulders, shaking his chest back and forth enough to make his tits bounce. The chain connected to his nipple rings jangled and rattled with his movements…

And Ruprecht’s eyes were locked on the lewd and bawdy display the whole time. He watched his son’s fatty pectorals jiggle and wiggle with their added heft…the green body paint on Slop’s chest warped and moved with the bouncing of his bare pink breasts…and the former king couldn’t deny that some part of him wanted to put his hands on those small, soft, pillowy mounds of his son’s…

“Pretty, huh?” Grif asked, distracting Ruprecht from the show. The bear could see the subtly growing bulge in the former king’s trousers, and he just couldn’t resist a little more teasing. “Nice and fuckable, and they’re only gonna get bigger to keep my sons well-fed once they’re born.”

“I…what?” Ruprecht asked blankly.

The bear grinned toothily. “Heh, thought you might be interested in that…alright, Slop, that’s enough for now; let’s show off that little bun in your oven.”

“Mm, yes, Papa Bear,” the young fox panted eagerly as he slowed to a stop, his small tits bouncing one last time.

Grif tugged the open, ruined vest and shirt off of Slop’s shoulders, pulling the sleeves down along the fox’s bare arms and methodically dragging the clothes down along his torso, until they fell to the floor, leaving Slop completely topless.

“There now, isn’t that better?” Grif asked Slop, crooning in the fox’s ear as he reached down to cradle the boy’s slightly swollen, pink belly with his enormous, beefy paws. “You don’t need those clothes weighing you down, do you?”

“Mmm, thank you, Papa Bear,” Slop murmured back happily.

The bear growled dominantly before he smugly looked at Ruprecht again.

“Well, what do you think?”

The restrained fox on the floor felt like his eyebrows were going to pop off of his forehead, they had risen so high at the sight before him.

Ruprecht saw that there was more green body paint on his son’s naked, pink skin; in addition to Grif’s handprints on his breasts, there were tribal designs and lines painted along his diaphragm and abdomen, including another giant, ursine pawprint on his lower stomach. Furthermore, Ruprecht caught sight of the twisted steel armlets around his son’s biceps and forearms and the steel ring pierced through the young fox’s belly button.

But what truly made Ruprecht gasp in disbelief was the fact that he saw, standing in front of what had once been his throne, his son was clearly pregnant with what could only be the bear’s progeny.

Overall, the furless fox’s upper body was softer and not as defined as it once had been, and while his whole torso appeared thicker and fatter now, Slop’s lower stomach had grown to the point of looking like he was carrying a melon in his gut. The once-slender fox was now pleasantly plump with the added weight that only a pregnancy could cultivate, and Ruprecht’s eyes bulged as he watched Grif’s rough, dirty paws caress the notable bump in his son’s belly. The bear gently raked his claws across Slop’s soft, tender skin, as if making another display of ownership, of possession.

“I…but how…when…what’ve you…” Ruprecht didn’t even know where to start, he was so flabbergasted.

Grif laughed again, a hearty a mirthful bellow of pride and triumph. “Haha! You should see the look on your face, it’s priceless! Ha! Ah…well, the important thing is that officially, Slop here is just a little past three months along. But thanks to a lovely little artifact I picked up from a mage a little while back, I can keep our bun cooking for as long as I want…I just love seeing my little forest bride pregnant like this, and he’s been carrying my heir for the last seven months,” Grif proudly clarified, still possessively rubbing Slop’s small and slightly bloated stomach. “Happy to give my son some extra time in my bitch’s womb…although judging by the size already,” Grif rumbled, now patting the topless fox’s gut, “I think I’ve got three heirs growing in there…might have to make it an even four sometime soon.”

The bear sleazily chuckled and sighed, relishing Ruprecht’s outward horror and disgust…and savoring the sight of the subtle bulge in the older fox’s trousers, a sign that, as much as the former king didn’t want to admit it, he wanted to see more.

“Wanna see how I popped my cubs in him?” Grif asked as he reached for the leather belt that was holding up Slop’s pants.

He didn’t even wait for Ruprecht to stammer out a response—Grif unbuckled Slop’s belt in a flash, but rather than pull his starched britches down…

Riiip!

Grif roughly yanked back on the furless fox’s pants, tearing the legs along the seams on their sides and in the crotch.

“There we go…get those boots off for Papa Bear,” he growled in the young fox’s ear as he tugged off the ruined trousers.

“Yessir!” Slop happily complied, shaking off and stepping out of his knee-length boots while Grif pulled the boy’s ripped pants off completely.

Ruprecht could hardly believe what he was seeing, but there it all was, clear as day before him: When Slop had been fully relieved of his costume, the former king saw that his son was wearing only a stained and ragged loincloth around his waist and a soiled and torn pair of those scandalous toeless socks that Ruprecht had tried so hard to prevent the former prince from wearing. Malloy had been rebellious, teasing his father quite a few times about his preferred footwear that showed off his paws and allowed his feet to get dirty like some filthy commoner, and Ruprecht couldn’t stand the sight of his son flaunting his bare pads and displaying the kind of behavior that was thoroughly unbecoming for a prince. But while Malloy had worn those socks often just to get a rise out of Ruprecht, it now looked like Slop was living in those socks around the clock.

Ruprecht scowled at the sight, imagining that his son had dragged his feet and those socks through the forests and swamps and building up a terribly musky odor…and in between walking all those leagues, Slop had probably let Grif and every other man in his band of mercenaries play with his paws. They’d likely rubbed their thumbs over his pads and pressed their noses in between his toes before lewdly licking them and treating his son like some whore, like some flesh toy…

The older fox shuddered at the visions running through his imagination, and he didn’t even want to contemplate the significance of the steel anklets and toe rings that his son was wearing now, nor did he want to really consider the meaning behind the rest of the green body paint that trailed up along Slop’s naked, thicker thighs and led beneath the loincloth that covered his groin and the bulge that was conspicuously missing—

Wait.

Ruprecht did a double take when he realized that his son’s manhood wasn’t making any kind of discernable silhouette under the thin fabric of the loincloth. Slop’s groin was so flat that it was almost as if his genitals had been tightly tucked away, or…

“Now, allow me to get you better acquainted with Slop, the new royal breeding stock,” Grif rumbled for Ruprecht’s benefit as he lowered his paw over his bitch’s loincloth…and pulled it up, as if he were drawing back a curtain, to reveal what lay beneath.

Ruprecht’s jaw dropped—his chin could have hit the floor, his mouth was so open in shock.

Where Malloy’s cock and balls should have hung, there was now only a fleshy pair of vertical lips on Slop’s pubic mound, and the top of an engorged pink pearl of a clitoris—complete with a steel ring pierced through it—glistening as it peeked out from between the rose petal-like folds of the fox’s inner labia.

Grif snickered, taking in the former king’s reaction. The bear could see that the fox was utterly horrified by the sight of Slop’s modified pussy, yet there was a distinct glimmer of fascination in those outraged eyes…and Grif could just imagine that Ruprecht, consciously sickened as he might have been, was observing on some subconscious level that his son’s vulva looked almost natural on him…and that some deep, shameful, twisted part of the boy’s father was wondering if Slop’s cunt was still tight at all…or if it had been stretched beyond recognition by so much sloppy and powerful fucking…Ruprecht was a man with carnal desires, after all…and Grif could see the stirring in the restrained fox’s crotch that told him the former king wanted to explore his son’s new innards for himself…

And perhaps he would, in time. But for now, Slop’s cunt belonged exclusively to Grif, especially since the little slut was bearing his offspring. But still, Grif could give the boy’s father a good look to tempt and tease him.

“No cock and balls for this bitch, eh?” Grif growled lustfully, tracing his finger in a circle just above the apex of Slop’s labial lips. “As I understand it, with how disappointed you were with the former prince, you’d have been happier with a daughter than a son…think I did you a service in that case, huh?”

Ruprecht gulped and spluttered, struggling with the multi-dimensional conflict of being angry beyond words, of being shamefully aroused by what had been done to his son, and of not wanting to let the bear goad him.

“Now, you know, a boy’s cock is alright, it’s fun enough to play with,” Grif began conversationally, still drawing Ruprecht’s attention to Slop’s vagina by circling around it with his finger. “But I just go crazy for a boy with girl parts. Give me a tiiiiight little pussy I can wreck and a warm cunt I can breed, and I’m a happy man. I suppose I’m like you in that respect, eh?”

“I…what?” Ruprecht snarled, finding enough of his voice to rise to the bait that Grif had laid for him to engage. “What could you possibly—”

“Oh, you and I both want something petite and smooth moaning under us while we’re in the throes of passion…and your son moans like a good little whore for me,” Grif snickered, using his free hand to cup the underside of Slop’s jaw.

Ruprecht jerked against the bull who was restraining him, as if wanting to rush Grif, but the guard held him steady.

“You and I are both hot-blooded men who love spilling our seed into a good bitch who begs us for more,” Grif continued with a sadistic chuckle, enjoying the former king’s reaction. “And that’s what makes your son perfect for me. ‘Course, you’ve seen some of the changes I had to make to him, but your kid makes for an excellent little slut.”

His left hand still resting on Slop’s pelvis, Grif lowered his paw and gently pushed his thick index and middle fingers into the fox’s pussy.

Slop quivered as he was penetrated by the bear’s digits; the two brown-furred fingers, with their rough pads, rubbed against the smooth, slick, sensitive flesh of the fox’s inner labia, wetly gliding across the bundles of nerves and pulsing back and forth just beneath his clitoris…before Grif then spread his fingers wide, stretching open the vertical lips of Slop’s labia as he did so.

“Just get a look at that,” Grif growled, holding the fox’s pussy open to reveal the fleshy, moist folds of Slop’s most intimate space.

Ruprecht could see the ripples of his son’s cunt, the beautiful way they parted under Grif’s fingers and the enticing way they glossily dripped with Slop’s bodily fluids…

And Slop just happily stood there, letting the huge ursine bare his pussy to his father without an iota of shame. The young fox panted and smiled happily as he stared down at Ruprecht, like he was delighted to be on display like this…like he was pleased just to be Grif’s plaything, to have his body used and manipulated however the huge mountain of a man liked.

Yet, for all the disgust, revulsion, and pure rage that was roiling away in Ruprecht’s gut, the former king felt a different kind of heat rising in his face and the shameful hunger that was stirring in his loins. The more he stared at his son’s open cunt, the more of a loathsome-yet-lustful need the fleshy, inviting tunnel inspired in him…

Grif, with his well-trained nose and keen power of observation, could pick out the scent of Ruprecht’s arousal and could see the subtle throb of a stiffening shaft in the older fox’s leather-clad crotch. He grinned, knowing exactly what he needed to do to simultaneously corrupt “Ruprecht the Unyielding” and further break his spirt.

“See that? That wet, warm, snug and cozy little spot?” Grif wriggled his fingers up and down, keeping Ruprecht’s eyes on Slop’s open labia and the spread entrance of the fox’s vaginal tunnel. “I’ve been in there…and it’s soooo good…I’ve stretched your boy around my fat cock and wrecked his perfect little pussy more times than I can count. And who gave you that pussy, Slop?” he crooned in his bitch’s ear.

Slop squirmed with pleasure and giggled as he nuzzled up close against the huge form of the bear standing behind him. “You did, Papa Bear.”

“That’s right, piglet.” Grif sloppily licked the side of Slop’s face, dragging his longe, wet tongue up along the boy’s naked cheek like he was slurping on a piece of honeycomb he’d snatched from a beehive…possessive, dominant, and enjoying the spoils of his theft.

“I took everything from your son that made him a man,” Grif said, addressing Ruprecht again while he kept Slop’s labia spread. “No Adam’s apple to make people think he’s a man…no balls to make his seed and keep the old family line going…no dick to even help him piss like a man. He wasn’t fit to be king—don’t pretend like he was when you were thinking that even before I took him and made him mine,” he continued authoritatively. “He wasn’t fit to rule, and he wasn’t fit to be a man at all…so I made him into what he was meant to be: a breeding bitch fit for a new king.”

Ruprecht growled through clenched teeth in response to the bear’s assertions, but Grif simply chuckled. “You might be thinking there’s some way to change him back and pretend none of this ever happened, but lemme show you just how permanent this is…”

Grif dominantly spun Slop around on the spot and used his strong hands to bend the furless fox over, exposing his ass for Ruprecht. Grif maneuvered Slop to spread his legs wide enough to show off the pucker of the boy’s ass, which momentarily relaxed in an open gape before winking shut…then Grif pushed Slop down lower, bending him forward enough to properly display his taint. And there, on the soft, smooth patch between the boy’s puckered ass and the bottom of his labia, Ruprecht could see what was clearly a spell seal.

A small bear paw—patterned with twisting and intricate knot motifs—had been inked below an arc of alchemical runes for the word “cunt”. The ink brand was a crisp and clean black that stood out against the pink of Slop’s skin, and the seal had been so neatly crafted that it looked like it had simply been stamped on the former prince’s taint. Ruprecht winced, imagining the pain of having been magically branded in such a sensitive spot…but some part of his twisted and depraved subconscious relished the image of his son holding his legs apart and having a sorcerer delicately apply the seal to his perineum while Grif held him steady.

“Heh, I saw to it that no mage is ever gonna be able to change him back,” Grif proudly proclaimed. “See that brand? As long as Slop’s alive, he’s gonna be the bitch I turned him into.”

Smack!

The sound of Grif’s paw slapping the bare flesh of Slop’s ass echoed around the throne room, and Slop moaned as he wagged his hips.

“This isn’t your boy anymore…he’s my hungry little slut,” Grif boasted to Ruprecht as he padded backwards, until he was sitting on the throne once again. He pulled Slop with him, dragging the fox forward; Slop ended up straddling the bear’s wide lap in the gold and velvet-upholstered chair, and the mostly-nude boy was still facing away from the former king.

Grif snickered as he leered at Ruprecht over the top of Slop’s head, and he dragged his hands up and down along Slop’s sides and back, teasing the base of the boy’s raised tail and kneading his pink cheeks in his massive mitts. It was as if the bear was lasciviously caressing the spoils of war he’d taken, making a display of putting his paws all over what had once belonged to Ruprecht. As for Slop, the boy eagerly nuzzled into the hollow of Grif’s neck, kissing and licking the intimate area like an obedient and happy dog.

“If I could’ve gotten my hands on him when I really wanted, he would’ve spent his slutty teenage years with a pussy instead of his dick and balls,” Grif continued idly, gazing at Ruprecht while Slop lapped and kissed away at his throat and collar in an act of deferential worship. “But he loves having the tight little cunt I put in him, and he loves me for doing anything I want with him. And I mean anything.”

Grif smacked Slop’s ass lightly, this time to get the boy’s attention. “Let Papa Bear wear you like a glove, Slop.”

“Hmmm, yes, Papa Bear,” Slop murmured happily, lifting his hips and raising his rump up from the bear’s lap.

Grif smirked. “Might wanna keep your eyes on my hands, Ruprecht.”

Ruprecht watched the bear clasp his hands together in a single, huge fist, his fingers interlacing with each other; Grif settled his elbows on the throne’s armrests, placing the blunt knob of his clenched, meaty hands and the thick column of his forearms just beneath Slop’s raised rump…and then the young fox began lower himself down towards the bear’s lap again.

“No…no, no, no,” Ruprecht faintly moaned in shock (and reluctant awe).

As Slop lowered his hips, his ass cheeks pressed down on Grif’s knuckles…before the mounds of the fox’s rump parted and spread to admit the topside of the bear’s clasped hands. Slop bent his knees further, bringing himself down upon Grif’s fists; he gently twisted his hips from side to side, grinding his puckered hole against the raised bumps of the ursine’s knuckles.

“That’s it, piglet,” Grif grunted to Slop, who had placed his hands on the bear’s shoulders for support. “Just relax like a good bitch and let Papa Bear in.”

“Uuuuungh!” Slop groaned lewdly as he quivered and sank down—his bare toes curled tightly, then spread as the ring of his sphincter opened around the bear’s clasped hands, willfully spreading to allow Grif’s fists to penetrate him. The hot, loose, sloppy flesh of his rectum welcomed in the upper third of Grif’s meathooks, wetly sliding over the bear’s brown-furred, curled fingers and just starting to rub against Grif’s claws and exposed paw pads.

“Yeeeeaaah…just like that…fuck, that’s a hungry ass you’ve got, piglet,” Grif chuckled smugly as the fox dropped lower, steadily swallowing the bear’s fists in his ass.

Ruprecht watched, too stunned to say anything as his son’s ass stretched wide to admit Grif’s fists. Inch by inch, the bear’s clasped hands disappeared into the fleshy orifice—Slop’s anus stretched to what looked like an impossible circumference, the puffy, gaping orifice was like a loop of warm taffy that a candy-maker kept pulling wider and wider. The fox’s sphincter had been worked beyond its capacity to elastically snap back into its original shape and tightness, and a thick, meaty, angry red rim of glistening flesh that extended beyond the confines of Slop’s ass was evidence that the boy had prolapsed without a care in the world. Part of Ruprecht was sickened to see his son’s guts out and on display like this as he voluntarily sodomized himself on the bear’s fists…yet a shamefully curious part of the former kind couldn’t help but wonder at what exactly Grif had done to Slop to make him open so easily.

In fact, Slop showed hardly any signs of distress; he was grunting and whimpering like he was feeling the most exquisite pleasure of his life as he effortlessly lowered himself further and further. Slop kept his furless tail raised, giving his father a full view of his ass slickly engulfing the bear’s hands. Grif’s thick palms soon disappeared into the fleshy confines of Slop’s ass, and before Ruprecht knew it, the lips of his son’s anus were sliding over the bear’s wrists—both of Grif’s hands were completely inside the former prince.

“Uuuungh, oh fuuuuuck that’s so good,” Slop moaned.

“Heh, that’s it…you love having Papa Bear’s fists in you like that, don’t you, Slop?” Grif growled as he leered at Ruprecht again—he eyed the growing bulge in the older fox’s trousers, and the bear smirked with the knowledge that Ruprecht’s shame was slowly but surely being overpowered by the arousal he was trying to deny.

“Uh-huh!” Slop huffed as he nuzzled into Grif’s neck again.

“Grrr…it feels good inside you…you’re so hot and wet in there,” Grif rumbled. Then, with his fists lodged inside Slop’s ass, Grif spread and wriggled his fingers teasingly, brushing and sliding his digits against the slick inner walls of the boy’s stretched rectum.

Slop squirmed and moaned with pleasure, and his tail whipped back and forth. “Ungh-hngh!”

“Heh, you like Papa Bear tickling you from the inside like that?” Grif asked sleazily.

“Oooh, yessir!”

“I bet you do…and just feel all that weight in you,” Grif said, clenching his fingers tight again inside the fox’s ass before he gently wiggled the mass of his fists back and forth in the snug tunnel of flesh that hugged around his hands. “Like a big fucking dog knot, huh? And you’ve had some of those in you before…”

The mercenaries around the room chortled and snickered, pointedly looking at three members of their company; the trio of hulking mastiffs grinned proudly from their posts by throne room doors.

“Yeah, Papa Bear…your…your fists are better, though,” Slop huffed hazily. “Could…could I get more of them? Please?”

Grif smirked. “You want more? Then get more in you, bitch! Keep sinking down…oh, you know what? Turn around and face your ol’ daddy while you’re at it…really show him how much you love having Papa Bear’s hands in you.”

“Ungh! Yessir!”

Slop did as he was told, scooting around and turning in the bear’s lap until he was now facing Ruprecht while he kept Grif’s fists in his ass.

At last, Ruprecht could see the expression of blissful pleasure on his son’s face—Slop was grinning like a horny lunatic, his cheeks flushed as he panted and grunted. Ruprecht glanced down at Slop’s belly, which seemed to swell even more now from the heft of both his pregnancy and Grif’s fists…and Slop bent his knees further, pushing himself lower to get the bear’s clasped hands deeper inside of him. As he did so, Slop pushed his loincloth to the side, showing off the flushed pink of his pussy; his clit seemed to have swollen even more, and clear, wet mucus was starting to drip from the vertical lips of his labia.

“Oh yeah, atta boy,” Grif growled satisfactorily as Slop sank halfway down his forearms—his huge fists plunged past another sphincter inside the boy and rubbed against the rippled flesh of his guts, while the angle at which his forearms met made the fox’s ass gape and spread even wider. “Ride Papa Bear’s fist a little…”

“Ungh…yessir…”

Slop huffed as he lifted himself…then sank back down, squatting onto the bear’s fists again and again.

Schlorp…schlop…glop…

The fox worked himself up into a slow and steady rhythm as he began riding Grif’s fists.

“Ungh! Aangh…mmmf! Unf! Oh…fuck, Papa Bear…I love you…I want more…so much more,” Slop whimpered intermittently over the next few minutes as he drew up and down on Grif’s fists and forearms.

For his part, Grif grinned cockily at Ruprecht. “Heh, see that, old man? He loves having a fist in him…it’s like he was born for it.”

Schlorp…glop…plop…schlop…

“Ungh…Papa Bear,” Slop moaned.

“And he always begs for more,” Grif told Ruprecht knowledgeably. “Even when I don’t have anything in him, he’s always hungry for my fist or my tongue or my cock.”

Ruprecht’s eyes were locked on his son, watching the young, furless fox fuck himself on the bear’s hands like a virtuoso. By now, the former king’s own member was beginning to push insistently against the inside of his trousers, and Ruprecht’s stomach twisted with deep shame as he found himself…enjoying the sight of his son impaling himself on Grif’s fists.

Schlorp…schlop…glop…

Of course, that was nothing compared to the shame and arousal Ruprech felt when suddenly—

“Ungh!” Slop grunted particularly loudly as he thrust himself down on Grif’s clenched paws.

An arc of clear piss squirted from Slop’s pussy, splattering to the gold carpet in front of the throne, and Ruprecht’s cock throbbed in his pants.

“Aw, that’s adorable…got a little phantom squirt, huh?” Gif observed as Slop kept fucking himself on his fists and dribbling piss that started to drip down to the cushioned seat of the throne. “Sometimes this bitch’s body still thinks he has a prostate…ate that tasty little nut myself,” he told Ruprecht with a proud and lustful grin.

Ruprecht’s eyes widened. “You…you ate his—”

“Oh yeah, and it was delicious.” Grif licked his lips. “A breeding bitch like this doesn’t need a prostate, now, does he? Heh, speaking of breeding bitch, though…I think it’s time I pumped another heir into him.”

Without wasting a moment, Grif shoved his clenched fists forward so fast and so roughly into Slop that the young fox lost his balance; Slop toppled forward off of his knees, off of Grif’s lap, and tumbled out of the throne and to the floor from the force of the bear’s internal shove.

“Ungh!” Slop grunted as he fell forward—his ass quickly lifted off the bear’s forearms and fists, and like a plunger being yanked from a commode, Grif’s clasped hands were forcibly withdrawn from the fox’s guts with a wet, sucking schlop.

Slop caught himself on his hands and knees on the carpet in front of the throne, keeping the precious cargo in his womb safe, while Grif was left behind with slick, damp fur on his forearms. The young fox panted and settled up on all fours as he faced his restrained father, while the bear behind him slid out of the throne and sank to his knees.

“Heh, part of me wants to get back in that ruined ass,” Grif growled, gazing at the gaping wreck that was Slop’s stretched and well-abused hole. But he sighed as he reached for his belt and unbuckled the leather band that kept his trousers and codpiece in place. “But I just gotta breed that tight little cunt of yours, Slop.”

“Pleeease, Papa Bear…put another cub in me,” Slop begged, wagging his hips enticingly for the bear who loomed behind him.

“Heh, might put another two or three in you, you hungry little breeding sow,” Grif chuckled as he pushed his pants down to his knees.

Ruprecht wrinkled his nose at the musky, steamy odor that wafted on the air as Grif freed his cock and balls from the confines of his leather trousers. The bear’s scent was earthy and pungent and undeniably, overwhelmingly masculine.

The bear’s thick mace of a cock sprang to attention as Grif tugged his waistband down; the girthy slab of beef bobbed and bounced with arousal, while Grif’s lemon-sized nuts hung low from his groin, heavy and churning with a fresh batch of sperm within his brown-furred scrotum. and when he pushed his pants down, his thick mace of a cock sprang to attention.

Grif reached down, using his left hand to teasingly rub Slop’s labia while he used his right to playfully beat the solid log of his hefty cock against the fox’s bare ass.

Pat! Pat! Pat!

“Hear that, Ruprecht?” Grif asked, a devious gleam in his eye as he leered at the former king opposite him; Ruprecht was just 15 feet away, still on his knees and held by the bull guard, forced to look upon the lewd scene that was taking place in front of what used to be his throne. “Hear all that weight being thrown around?”

Pat! Pat! Pat!

Slop moaned softly and quivered as Grif’s thick fingers continued to fondle and play with the lips of his pussy, continued to gently tug on the ring that hung from his swollen, pierced clitoris…

Pat! Pat! Pat!

Grif smacked his cock against Slop’s backside again.

“That’s all going into this bitch…you’re gonna watch how a real king makes new heirs…right…”

Grif paused as he pushed his cock down, following the curvature of Slop’s taint, and aligned his cockhead with the vertical slot of the boy’s vagina. He rubbed his throbbing, hot cock against the fox’s vulva for a moment, spreading the bead of precum that had already welled up from his urethra and sliding his cock against the slimy entrance of Slop’s wet pussy…before, without any further ceremony, he pushed up and in, thrusting forward with a powerful surge to hilt his blunt, fat cock in the warm, moist, fleshy tunnel of Slop’s cunt.

“Now,” Grif finished while Slop moaned and arched his back.

“Uuuuungh! Papa Beeeeaaar,” Slop gasped as Grif penetrated him; his pussy stretched deliciously to accommodate the bear’s girth, tightly hugging Grif’s member in a passionate, desperate, and hungry embrace.

“Yeeeah…Papa Bear’s where he needs to be…with his cock in his breeding bitch,” Grif growled arrogantly. He flexed his cock inside of Slop, making the young fox quiver and gasp again, before he drew his hips back…and then thrust forward again…back…and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, building up to a methodical rhythm and eliciting a grunt and huffed moan from Slop on the apex of every thrust as he filled the fox again and again. “Atta boy…take Papa Bear’s cock like a good little piglet…ungh, that’s a wet little cunt, squeezing around me…you’re hungry for it, aren’t you…”

“Uuuungh…yes, Papa Bear,” Slop murmured while the bear’s huge mitts firmly wrapped around his hips, holding him in place.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

Grif’s pelvis smacked against Slop’s rump, making the fox’s ass bounce and jiggle while the bear’s testicles swung up with every thrust.

“That’s Papa Bear’s good little cuntboy,” Grif rumbled, still purposefully fucking the young fox in front of the throne.

Ruprecht watched the whole affair, unable to look away, his own member now throbbing in his pants at the sight of his son getting fucked raw before him. Malloy—no, Slop—tossed his head back in pleasure, twitched his tail back and forth, and rolled his eyes back while he panted with his pierced tongue out. The boy’s small, fatty tits hung downward and bounced with the motion of Grif’s humping, making the chain connected to Slop’s nipple piercings jangle as it swung back and forth. And Grif was leering down at Ruprecht the whole time, maintaining eye contact with the former king, continuing to captivate him with the debaucherous display.

“Ungh! Ngh! Ngh! Oh fuck yes…ah, Papa Bear…more…more…pleeease!” Slop panted as Grif continued to rut with him doggy-style.

The bear chuckled smugly as he addressed Ruprecht. “Heh, hear him begging? If it weren’t so fucking hot, it’d be almost pathetic how bad he needs my cock. I once spent a whole day just breeding him nonstop and he still wasn’t satisfied. You should listen to him when we really get into it, he screams for me to fuck him so hard…think you might want a turn with him later?”

Ruprecht regained enough of his regal composure to sneer at the bear in spite of the humiliation of being aroused at Grif’s suggestion. “Hardly, you…sick degenerate.”

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

Grif, in spite of Ruprecht’s insult, just grinned as he kept nonchalantly fucking Slop, grinding against the young fox’s backside while he rhythmically pumped his fat cock in and out of the boy’s wet pussy.

“Aw, now that’s no way to talk to your king,” he replied mockingly.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

“Ungh! Aaah!” Slop squealed, shuddering as he curled his toes in pleasure. “Papa Bear…”

Still on his knees and rolling his hips back and forth against the boy he was fucking, Grif chuckled, and he squeezed Slop’s sides to get his attention. “Heh, easy there, piglet…just stay quiet and let Papa Bear breed you while the real men talk.”

“Nnf! Mmmf! Mmmm,” Slop quietly grunted and groaned, doing his best to contain his pleasure as ordered.

“Good bitch…now, you don’t need to go pretending you’re some saintly father,” Grif said matter-of-factly as he addressed Ruprecht again. He nodded at the former king’s crotch, eyeing the now-prominent bulge within the older fox’s leather pants. “I see the stiffy you’ve got going in there, so don’t go trying to hide how much you’re enjoying this.”

Ruprecht glared daggers at the bear…but Grif was right. Some horrible, depraved part of him just couldn’t get enough of the sight of his son getting plowed by a huge breeding stud like the bear…and an even more twisted and foul part of Ruprecht wanted to be doing the breeding himself.

As much as Ruprecht didn’t want to admit it, his cock was starting to ache for the warm, wet, slimy, and tight confines of his son’s cunt, which was currently schlopping and schlorping around the girth of Grif’s member. Ruprecht could just imagine how much Slop’s insides were elastically contorting themselves with every thrust of the bear’s fat cock, which was pushing deep into him…probably all the way up into Slop’s womb, where he was carrying the bear’s unborn heirs already…ready to inject his son with another batch of heirs, too…

It was like Grif could read Ruprecht’s mind, and the bear smirked knowingly as he continued, “Heh, y’know, I think it’s starting to make sense; the real reason you were disappointed in the prince here wasn’t because he wasn’t cut out to be a king and went out whoring like a little slut instead. It’s because you wanted to be the one bending him over like the bitch he is and breeding him…but you couldn’t.”

Ruprecht bit the inside of his lip as his throat tightened; he wouldn’t—couldn’t—answer.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

Grif—still driving his cock into Slop again and again at a constant, upbeat tempo—went on, “You want a piece of this breeding sow, too, even though he used to be your son.”

“Mmmf! Hnngh! Ngh!” Slop grunted quietly, panting with his pierced tongue out; drool dripped from his mouth while he arched his back and tossed his head in pleasure again.

Ruprecht stayed stone-faced, forcing himself to remain as silent as the grave, even though his resolve was weakening little by little like a seaside cliff being eroded by the ocean’s waves.

Grif snickered. So much for “Ruprecht the Unyielding”—he could see the former king struggling to hold onto his precious morals and virtues, to try denying the obvious…

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

“Hmmmf!” Slop groaned softly as the warm, fleshy tunnel of his pussy expanded around the bear’s stiff, throbbing cock again.

To add insult to injury, Grif carried on, “Heh, I don’t hear you denying it…but if you want him, you’ve gotta ask me for it.”

Ruprecht spluttered at that and his eyes widened in shock. “I—what?! No! I—that’s…you’re…”

Grif’s smug grin only grew wider as he continued vigorously thrusting into Slop.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

“Unf! Heh, be that way if you like,” Grif grunted, hilting himself again and again in the young fox in front of him, “but I know you’re gonna want it someday.”

PLAP!

“Uuungh!” Slop moaned when Grif slammed his dick especially hard and deep into his cunt.

Grif chuckled before returning to his normal rhythm of fucking Slop.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

Slop’s naked pink skin was now misty and glistened with the faint sheen of perspiration as he sweated from Grif’s rough and powerful fucking; the bear kept going, rutting with the sweaty, pig-like fox and making the boy tremble from head to toe with pleasure.

“You WILL get on your knees and you WILL beg me for a chance to fuck your son,” Grif told Ruprecht with absolute certainty. He flexed his cock inside Slop’s pussy as he went on, “Might not be today, might not be tomorrow…but you’ll come around to it soon, and you’ll have to ask ol’ Grif for permission. Because I own this breeding bitch now, just like I own the rest of this place…guess that means I own you, too, huh?” he added with a chuckle.

Ruprecht bit back the scathing retort he was ready to say—swallowing his outrage and seeking to distract himself just for a moment from the proceedings in front of him (not to mention Grif’s constant goading), he cleared his throat and started down what he considered to be a more productive topic of discussion.

“I suppose that may beg the question of what your plan is?” Ruprecht forced himself to ask.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

Grif raised his eyebrows questioningly as he continued rocking back and forth to plow Slop’s pussy—precum and other slimy bodily fluids dribbled from between the lips of the fox’s labia and dripped to the carpet below, while Slop continued softly grunting in ecstasy. “My plan?”

“What do you intend to do next?” Ruprecht clarified.

The bear chuckled. “Heh, that’s pretty obvious. Gonna breed your boy and put a couple more cubs in his belly.”

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

“Mmm! Aaaah…oooh,” Slop quietly gasped and moaned—his whole body jostled back and forth from the force of Grif’s rhythmic fucking, and his pink, whiplike tail twitched and trembled while his legs quivered.

“What I mean to say,” Ruprecht began, trying to keep his eyes off of his son and on Grif instead, “is that you have the crown, you have the throne, you have the prince—or what’s left of him—and you have an heir on the way…I can’t deny that, in effect, the whole kingdom is yours now. So, what do you intend to do to me? Keep me as a prisoner and advisor? Or simply…eliminate me so I can’t usurp your rule?”

Grif paused and pursed his lips in thought as he kept fucking Slop.

“Should you opt for the latter route, beheading is the traditional means of removing a previous head of state following a coup such as this,” Ruprecht stated, keeping his tone even.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

Grif’s hips slapped against Slop’s backside while the bear carried on breeding the fox, pumping in and out of the boy as he considered his options…and then spoke at last. “Hmmm…I don’t need you for advice or as a prisoner, exactly…but chopping your head off…you know, that’s an interesting proposition…I could—”

“Uuuuuungh! Papa Bear! Pleeeeeaaase!” Slop loudly whimpered, unable to contain himself and interrupting Grif.

The bear growled.

RIIIIP!

In a flash, Grif had violently yanked the fox’s loincloth off his waist, tearing the worn and grubby fabric—he bundled it up tightly and, in another quick flurry of activity, roughly shoved the loincloth into Slop’s mouth, effectively gagging him. For good measure, Grif then grabbed the boy’s snout like he was silencing a barking dog. Grif clamped Slop’s mouth shut on the improvised gag and kept a tight grip on his snout to fully muzzle the disobedient fox.

“Mmmf!” Slop grunted.

“I. Said. Stay. Quiet. Bitch,” the huge Kodiak bear rumbled menacingly, intimidating the smaller fox into silent submission.

“Mmmf…hmmm,” Slop softly huffed through his nostrils—his jaw worked back and forth, as if he were sucking on his smelly, musky loincloth gag.

“Grrrr…”

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

Grif rumbled, still holding Slop’s muzzle and fucking him harder; the bear was starting to get properly worked up to his climax—dominantly fucking the boy in front of his father and teasing the former king at the same time was turning him on more than Grif thought it would, and his balls were starting to ache for release…but he didn’t want to impregnate his bitch again just yet…a plan had formed in his mind, and a devious twinkle glimmered in Grif’s eye as he addressed Ruprecht again while still roughly pounding his young consort.

“Now, I think I’ve got just the thing—you’ll get the chop, but not the way you’re thinking,” Grif said smugly.

Ruprecht cocked his head to the side, confused.

“I’ve got no use for a dead former king without his head.” As he spoke, Grif reached with his free hand for one of the small knives strapped to his belt, which was currently around his knees. He pulled the weapon—a small dagger with runes inscribed on the ivory blade and a garnet set into its pommel—from its sheath as he continued, “I do want to keep you around…but more as a trophy. And I want to give you a little reminder about just how badly you failed as a ruler, as a father, and as a man.”

Grif, still wetly sliding his cock in and out of Slop’s pussy at his same upbeat pace, held up the enchanted knife he had procured from his belt. “Thonin,” he said, addressing his mercenary who stood beside the bull guard who, in turn, had been restraining Ruprecht.

Thonin—a heavyset, green-skinned orc who was dressed only in his black canvas britches (which were conspicuously lined with yellow and white fur on their insides), heavy boots, a scratched steel pauldron on his right shoulder, and bracers on his beefy forearms—raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement and adroitly caught the knife that Grif had just tossed to him.

“Would you care to do the honors of relieving the former king of his balls and cockhead?” Grif requested.

The beefy orc grinned toothily, and he gripped the dagger’s handle tight in his meaty hand. “Heh, it’d be my pleasure, Your Highness,” Thonin chuckled deeply as he stepped closer towards the restrained fox on the floor.

“Wait—I—what, wait! Why?!” Ruprecht struggled in the bull guard’s hold, trying and failing to get free as Thonin approached with the knife in hand. The runes on the blade began to glow a dull red, and Ruprecht gulped nervously.

“Well, if I’m gonna keep you around,” Grif said as Thonin grabbed Ruprecht’s waistband, “then I don’t want you to still think of yourself as a king.”

“Hff!” Ruprecht gasped shortly as Thonin roughly pulled his leather trousers down, forcibly exposing him in front of Grif and Slop.

Ruprecht’s cock was stiff and throbbing with his arousal, all six inches of it on display from where it protruded out of his yellow-furred sheath and all the way up to the tip of its fat, helmet-shaped glans. His balls, also covered in neatly-groomed yellow fur, were plump and tight beneath his sheath…but not for long. Without any ceremony (as a disgraced and deposed monarch deserved none), Thonin carelessly grasped Ruprecht’s testicles with a large, green, sausage-fingered, hairy hand; he firmly pull Ruprecht’s testicles a few millimeters away from the fox’s groin, drawing them taut and giving himself enough room to maneuver the ivory, crimson-glowing knife into position at the neck of his scrotum.

“I want you to look down at yourself every day,” Grif continued, still banging his hips against Slop’s backside, “and see a reminder of how I won your kingdom and made you irrelevant.”

Thonin squeezed Ruprecht’s balls, putting more tension on them as he pulled them even further, creating the perfect space for the blade to slice through. The edge of the razor-sharp blade kissed the side of Ruprecht’s scrotum—the fox choked back a whine, forcing himself to stay pridefully resolute in the face of his impending castration. Meanwhile, Slop, still facing his father as Grif pumping in and out of his pussy, suckled on the musky loincloth stuffed in his mouth as he shamelessly huffed and whimpered in erotic bliss.

“You should be thanking me—just a quick slice, and that’s it. When I took the prince’s family jewels, I crushed them into a pulp before cutting them off,” Grif reminisced with a chuckle. “Heh, even with all the screaming he was doing, he was happy to lose his balls; the lil’ slopbucket here knew he wanted to be a good breeding bitch for me, and a good breeding bitch shouldn’t have balls in the first place. He’s proud he doesn’t have his manhood anymore,” Grif continued with an extra-hard thrust into Slop, as if to emphasize his point.

“Mmmf!” Slop moaned softly through his gag, his muzzle also still clamped shut by Grif’s hefty paw wrapped around it.

“But you…” Grif went on, still humping away as he gazed at Ruprecht, who was trembling ever so subtly. “Heh, you’re gonna be so ashamed to lose what makes you a man…so ashamed about losing the chance to make more sons…mmm, and I love that shame. It’s a good look on you,” the bear growled satisfactorily before he nodded curtly at the orc who knelt beside the former king.

In the blink of an eye, Thonin swiped the blade through the thin, delicate tissues of Ruprecht’s scrotum and spermatic cords. Smooth as silk, the blade cleanly severed the fox’s balls from his groin. Ruprecht gasped in surprise at the sight of the knife lopping off his testicles—there was no pain, save for the momentary flash of icy cold that seared through his pelvis and made him buck his hips, his still-stiff cock bouncing…and then…nothing…just a numb, empty sensation…an absence, a sickening empty feeling that made the fox’s stomach churn queasily, mixed with hot, deep shame…and Ruprecht couldn’t help but lose his composure.

His shoulders sagged as he heaved a dry sob of defeat—where was his strength now? Where was his pride now? They’d been stripped from him, taken against his will with his balls, leaving him utterly bereft…almost too bereft to even notice the fact that the dagger’s enchantment had prompted his skin to neatly knit itself back together, sealing the open wounds that had been left behind. On Ruprecht’s groin, there was now just a smooth, featureless patch of yellow fur where his balls had once hung, as if he had been born a natural eunuch. With the smallest of tears welling up in his eyes, Ruprecht blankly stared at his now-disembodied balls—sealed and safe within his closed scrotum—resting like a plump, yellow-furred fruit in Thonin’s green-skinned palm.

“Haha, that’s it! No more heirs for you!” Grif barked with laughter at the shock, dismay, and abject humiliation clear on Ruprecht’s face.

Thonin raised his hand, showing off the full scrotum to Grif. “Whatcha wanna do with this pretty little thing, boss?” the orc asked, smirking.

Grif cocked his head in thought…then chuckled. “Heh, I think I just got myself a new coin purse. You!” Grif pointed at one of the palace guards who stood by the door—the ram snapped to attention. “Take that to the tailor to get it tanned and turned into leather. And you can feed the nuts to the royal hounds on the way.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the ram replied obediently; he stepped forward and took the former king’s severed testicles from Thonin before exiting the throne room, carefully carrying his cargo in his palm.

“Now, off with his head, if you please,” Grif said, addressing Thonin again while he continued fucking Slop in front of the freshly-castrated Ruprecht.

“Heh, my pleasure,” the orc rumbled happily.

Ruprecht, still wanting to resist as much as he could in defeat, struggled in the bull guard’s hold again as Thonin now grasped the stiff shaft of his cock—the fox grunted as the orc’s coarse, callused palm and fingers rubbed against his soft, sensitive skin, and he squirmed as Thonin’s digits tightly curled around the mushroom dome of his glans.

“I—wait, wait, wait!” Ruprecht started, no longer the proud ruler, but instead a victim begging for clemency. “Please, don’t—”

“Please?” Grif repeated mockingly.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!

The bear’s powerful hips continued smacking against Slop’s backside as he kept up his thrusting; Slop grunted and huffed and squirmed in carnal delight, a happy piglet relishing the continuous, rough fucking he was getting from Grif.

“Since when does Ruprecht the Unyielding plead for mercy?” Grif rumbled, feigning surprise…before he sadistically chuckled. “Heh, seems you’re learning who’s the boss now…but let’s snip that tip to really make the lesson stick.”

Thonin, not needing any further prompting, held the edge of the enchanted ivory blade against the topside of Ruprecht’s shaft, just below the corona of the former king’s glans. Then, like a man simply cutting a carrot for a hearty stew, Thonin pressed the knife down through the skin and spongy tissues of Ruprecht’s cock.

“Ah! Aah!” Ruprecht winced and squirmed at the flash of icy cold again as the dagger sliced through his flesh—this time it seared through the top of his shaft, but the sensation lasted only a second before it faded into nothingness, just like Ruprecht had felt when the orc had cut off his testicles.

Huffing more from shock and humiliation than actual pain, Ruprecht glanced down at his cock.

A stiff, headless stalk protruded from his sheath now; the cut had already healed thanks to the dagger’s enchantment, and Ruprecht saw that, where there would have been an open wound showing a cross-section of his penile anatomy, his skin now formed a smooth covering on the flat end of his blunt stump, punctuated only by a slender opening for his urethra. Well, at least that left him still functional enough to urinate like a shadow of the man he had once been.

But stronger than the nausea that made Ruprecht’s stomach churn at the sight of his severed glans (which Thonin held in his thick fingers), and stronger than the anger that simmered in his gut at the fact that he’d figuratively been decapitated in such a manner, was the embarrassment that made the former king blush and cringe when he realized that his headless stump of a cock was throbbing with the most shameful and intense arousal he had ever felt in his life.

“Heh, toss that here,” Grif called.

Distracted by the bear’s voice, Ruprecht looked up to see Thonin toss his cockhead over to Grif, who was still pumping in and out of Slop like a happy customer at a brothel. The thrusting ursine skillfully caught Ruprecht’s glans with his free hand, and held it up to get a closer look at it.

“Ah, would you look at that,” Grif said smugly as he studied the severed lump of flesh and nerve he held…before he simply popped it into his mouth like a fat little dumpling.

Ruprecht’s jaw dropped again as he watched the huge bear chew up his cockhead. Grif’s wet, heavy, solid chomping was loud as the bear masticated the meat that had once been Ruprecht’s glans, and Grif moaned softly, clearly savoring the taste and texture of the juicy morsel…before he swallowed it all with an audible gulp.

“Mmm, delicious,” Grif rumbled, licking his lips as he leered at Ruprecht once more. “Nothing quite like that royal sweet meat…your head tasted even better than the bitch’s prostate did.”

Grif growled and licked his lips again…and his hips began to buck faster and more powerfully. It was as if the former king’s cockhead had charged him up to breed Slop in earnest, and he started fucking in vigorous, rapid strokes. His cock throbbed in the wet confines of the young fox’s pussy, and with every slam of his pelvis against Slop’s backside, Grif’s balls tightened more and more, threatening to explode as the hot, carnal pressure built up in his loins like a pot that was threatening to boil over.

PLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPLAP…

“Hnngh! Hnngh! Hnngh!” Slop grunted energetically through his clamped and stuffed muzzle.

“Hhhrrrrfffffuck! Perfect…little snack…giving me…just the boost…to do this!” Grif snarled—he squeezed his paw tightly wrapped around Slop’s snout, while his free hand went for the boy’s hip, firmly grasping it so he could more forcefully drive his cock into the squirming, writhing fox like a breeding mount.

PLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPLAP…

“Hnngh! Hnngh! Hnngh!” Slop’s muffled groans were even louder now.

“Hrrr! Yeah! That’s Papa Bear’s whore right there! Ungh! Take it, you fucking tight little cunt! Get…get ready for your king’s seed!” Grif growled through clenched teeth. His massive hands clenched tight on Slop, and a glob of drool dripped from the bear’s lips while he submitted fully to the heat of his rut. “Gonna—huuufff—fill you with sons, bitch!”

Ruprecht—along with his former guards and the mercenaries that Grif had brought—could only watch the lewd debauchery of the bear madly fucking the young, furless, pierced and painted fox in front of the throne. Ruprecht’s headless shaft twitched while Grif, still snarling and growling like a crazed beast, launched into Slop again and again, until…

“Hrrr! Hrrr! HrrrRRRRR! HHHRRRRROOOOOAAARRRRRRR!” Grif’s growling grew in volume and pitch, rising to the crescendo of an earth-shaking roar.

PLAP!

The bear hilted himself balls deep into Slop one last time before he hunched over and rapidly gyrated his hips—his balls drew up tight and his cock spasmed, firing cannon-like volleys of cum deep into Slop’s wet cunt, practically filling the boy’s already-occupied womb with more of his thick batter.

“HHHHRRROOOORRRRR!” Grif bellowed again, cumming hard and dominantly holding Slop close to him.

In the throes of his passion, Grif bit down on the fox’s exposed neck and shoulder while he kept up his brisk humping to help dump the contents of his balls into his consort. The bear’s stiff cock pulsated with every spurt of hot, fresh, potent cum, and the sheer volume of fluid made Slop’s pussy swell and bloat before the excess began to overflow.

Schlorp-schlorp-schlorp…

But Grif kept going, kept pumping, kept thoroughly breeding, kept humping—he sloppily churned his cum inside the fox’s pussy like he was beating cream into butter thanks to the rapid back-and-forth motion of his sill-erect member. He growled while he chewed on Slop’s shoulder, gnashing his teeth and sucking and licking hard enough to make a sizeable bruise. His balls throbbed as they emptied themselves in surge after surge of cum, which was now dripping in globs and dribbles from the lips of Slop’s labia…down along the insides of his thighs…and falling to the carpet between his knees…

Slop had thrown his head back and closed his eyes, shuddering all the while he was climaxing with Grif, quivering with the pleasure of having been impregnated with what must have been another three big, burly sons at least, and moaning in the bliss that filled him from the tops of his ears to the tips of his curled toes.

Ruprecht remained in place, restrained and unable to look away as the new king and his whore of a consort recovered from their passion. If his will hadn’t already been broken by the fact that he’d lost his kingdom, his balls, and his cockhead in rapid succession, Ruprecht would have been sickened by the sight of having just watched his son get fucked right in front of him. But the older fox’s lust and desire were undeniable, and his cock twitched again when, eventually, Grif withdrew from Slop with a wet schlopping of cum.

Having recovered enough energy to move again, Grif released his hold on Slop and tiredly rose to his feet. The fox grunted while he let his front half drop to the floor, where he rested on his elbows and raised his ass even higher; his mouth hung open as he panted, and the loincloth that Grif had stuffed into his muzzle dropped to the floor, now soaked with his spit and drool. Grif, meanwhile, shuffled backwards, and exhaustedly dropped to sit on the throne, his semi-erect, dripping cock laying like a heavy slab of beef between his spread legs and the crown on his head now slightly askew.

“Heh…aw fuck, your kid’s a good lay,” he chuckled contentedly with a dazed grin at Ruprecht. Grif sighed, catching his breath, and then sat up straighter on the throne, enough to raise his hefty feet back on their heels. He snapped his fingers three times as he said, “Alright, Slop, get under Papa Bear’s feet—I need ‘em cleaned.”

“Heh…yes, Papa Bear,” Slop rasped, crawling around on the floor to face Grif.

As Slop turned, Ruprecht caught sight of the boy’s backside—the young fox’s ass was a gaping hole rimmed by the puffed-out, bruised ring of his anus, but his vagina…

It was like someone had sliced open a cutlet of veal and blasted it with an overwhelming deluge of thick cream sauce. Stretched and bruised, Slop’s labial lips hung partly open, just barely revealing the pink and red fleshy folds of his innards that had been liberally coated with Grif’s seed. Small drips and dribbles of bear cum fell to the floor as Slop crawled towards the king on his throne, but from the absolute mess of the boy’s vagina, Ruprecht could see that the little globs were mere drops in the ocean of jizz that Grif had pumped into Slop.

When he approached Grif’s feet, Slop hastily kissed the bear’s huge paws in deference before he happily flopped onto his back and scooted in closer, shoving his face into the ursine’s stompers. Grif rumbled approvingly when he felt Slop’s lips and tongue get to work on worshiping his feet, and he grinned as the boy started eagerly licking the pads of his soles and toes, which were damp with post-sex sweat.

“That’s a good bitch…you know just how to help me relax after a good breeding…mmm, get every inch,” Grif murmured, rubbing his feet on Slop’s face.

“Mmmf!” Slop moaned in delight. His pink tail slowly wagged back and forth across the gold-embroidered carpet (which now sported several small splattered stains of cum) as he hungrily licked along the arches of Grif’s soles, curled his tongue in between the bear’s big toes, and huffed the musky, pungent, and potently masculine odor.

Grif chuckled, curling his toes and flexing his feet as he pressed them against the boy’s muzzle. He then gazed at Ruprecht again. “Heh, he’s a real slut for my feet, you know—can’t get enough of them, especially after I fuck him,” the bear stated for the former king’s benefit. Grif began grinding his left foot against the front of Slop’s snout while he used the ball of his right foot to rub the soft, pliable skin of Slop’s cheek. “Think it might be an official duty for him as my consort—royal breeding stock and royal foot licker.” Grif winced with pleasure and growled as Slop licked a particularly sensitive spot along his arch. “Mmm, yeah, that’s it, right in there…” He trailed off in a blissful reverie for a moment before addressing Ruprecht again. “What do you think?”

Ruprecht grimaced and shrugged as he gazed upon the happy paw-slut his son had been reduced to beneath the Kodiak bear’s huge feet. “Well…he seems…well-suited to it…”

Grif snickered and he surveyed Ruprecht thoughtfully before he spoke again. “Heh, now that I’m thinking about official duties, I think I’ve got one for you, actually.”

The restrained and exposed fox frowned. “Besides being your trophy?”

“Oh yeah…you’re officially one of my concubines.”

“I…what?” Ruprecht’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

Grif nodded authoritatively. “I’ll build up a nice little harem here, but you’re my first concubine. And as my first concubine, one of your duties is to clean up the royal breeding stock after I fuck him.”

Ruprecht’s eyes bulged and he felt his stomach drop.

“You, strip the first concubine and bring him here to eat some of the creampie I fucked into his son,” Grif commanded the bull guard keeping Ruprecht restrained.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the bull replied obediently, pulling Ruprecht to his feet.

“I—no, wait, stop!” Ruprecht struggled as he protested, but the bull was too strong for him.

In a matter of seconds, the palace guard had ripped off the former king’s embroidered tunic and yanked his leather pants the rest of the way off of his legs, in addition to Ruprecht’s boots. Now fully naked, Ruprecht could do nothing but squirm and reluctantly stumble to keep up as the bull hauled him toward the throne.

Grif, meanwhile, had leaned forward and grabbed Slop’s ankles. Still keeping his feet planted on the young fox’s face, Grif raised Slop’s legs like he was pulling a pair of levers towards himself; the boy remained on his back, his legs flexibly rising up and spreading under the bear’s guidance, until they formed a wide V, with the lowermost point being Slop’s messy, cummy, jizz-filled pussy. Grif smirked, holding the fox’s sock-clad ankles in place as the bull guard brought Ruprecht before him on the throne’s dias…and then, without further ado, the bull shoved the older fox to his hands and knees.

Naked and powerless, Ruprecht grunted as his face was forced downward, until it was just an inch away from Slop’s spread labial lips. He couldn’t tear his eyes from his intended target, the messy trough of his son’s vagina brimming with thick, sludgy bear semen. He wrinkled his nose at the odor of Grif’s salty, bitter, pungent cum mixing with the semi-sweet aroma of his son’s sweaty crotch and wet, leaking cunt…yet his mouth was watering at the flavor profile he smelled.

“Get in there and start eating, slut,” Grif rumbled from above, gazing down at the former king who was face-to-face with Slop’s spread and waiting vagina.

Ruprecht hesitated.

“Push him in,” the bear commanded.

The bull’s forceful hand on the back of Ruprecht’s head pushed—the fox couldn’t resist, and he whimpered as his muzzle was shoved into the warm, slimy swamp of Slop’s freshly bred pussy. Ruprecht spluttered for a second; his nostrils were blocked by the thick soup of Grif’s cum and the fleshy folds of his son’s internal anatomy, so he had to open his mouth to breathe. But as soon as his lips parted, slick and slimy bear cum slid in and coated his tongue. Ruprecht gagged and inadvertently swallowed, gulping down a small helping of his son’s creampie…but he still couldn’t breathe unless he lapped more…if he wanted to get more air, Ruprecht would have to swallow Grif’s cum along with whatever little pride he had left.

Slop, still huffing and licking Grif’s paws, moaned as his father began eating him out; the former king grudgingly dipped his tongue into Slop’s flooded cunt, lapping up glob after glob of Grif’s fat load before gulping down the bear’s potent swimmers (three of which had already succeeded in their mission of fertilization, and by now Slop’s trio of new sons were already starting to grow in his womb alongside their embryonic brothers). The young fox squirmed and quivered in pleasure as he felt Ruprecht’s wet, broad tongue push into his coin slot and drag along the sensitive sides of his pussy.

Ruprecht grumbled in humiliation as he was forced to slurp up the creampie that Grif had fucked into his son, but as the minutes dragged on, the once-proud, former king found himself acclimating to the bittersweet taste and slimy texture of the warm cum he was eating…and his headless cock twitched and throbbed as he unconsciously nuzzled deeper into Slop’s pussy, licking up more and more of Grif’s spunk…

For his part, the bear simply chuckled and enjoyed the show while he held Slop’s legs up and apart, and he absently licked and kissed Slop’s toes (eliciting a shiver along the boy’s legs) as he observed his new concubine carrying out his orders. Ruprecht was only just starting to get into eating out the royal breeding stock’s creampie, as evidenced by the pathetic, beheaded member twitching between his legs and the soft grunt that escaped the older man’s lips. Grif nodded to himself, satisfied; true, there was still some resistance and Ruprecht wasn’t fully enjoying himself…but he was making progress and would adjust to his new role in time…a king didn’t become a whore overnight, after all. He had to be systematically broken…and eating his son out was just the start.

However, as he watched the older fox reluctantly keep slurping away at Slop’s diminishing creampie, Grif realized that perhaps what Ruprecht would truly benefit from was some time and isolation to stew on just how far he had fallen…and to start thinking of ways to enjoy himself as he learned his place…

“Alright, slut, that’s enough…pull him back,” Grif ordered.

The bull yanked Ruprecht’s head up from Slop’s leaking pussy, and the former king, huffing to catch his breath, instinctively licked his lips as excess cum dripped from his nose and chin.

“Thonin, would you mind escorting my new concubine down to the dungeon? I think now he needs a little ‘alone time’ to reflect on how he can best serve the crown,” Grif rumbled while he released Slop’s legs.

The burly orc nodded. “My pleasure…might need to take advantage of that ‘alone time’, though.”

“Heh, have at it,” Grif chuckled.

Thonin grabbed Ruprecht’s left arm while the bull guard dutifully took the fox’s right arm; together, they frog-marched the disgraced ex-monarch from the throne room, with the bull leading the way to the palace’s dungeon.

Still huffing, Ruprecht hung his head in shame while he was dragged through what had once been his castle. Fortunately, his former courtiers and advisors had likely sequestered themselves in their chambers during the transfer of royal power, so none of them could see him or laugh at him…

Yet, in the depths of his humiliation, Ruprecht licked his lips again and found himself savoring the remnants of potent bear cum and his son’s pussy…which, with a defeated sigh, he realized would taste better than the awful hardtack he’d probably be fed in the dungeon…

But then, as he was led down the stairs, Ruprecht’s eyes landed on the fur lining of Thonin’s trousers…which he noticed was a particular shade of yellow similar to his own…and the fur that had once covered Malloy’s body…

“Is…is that my son’s fur?” Ruprecht asked—realizing what had been done with the former prince’s coat was enough to distract him, at least a little, from his utter despair, and a spark of righteous indignation flared to life within him once more.

“Huh? Oh! Hehe, oh yeah,” Thonin chuckled while he and the bull guard hauled Ruprecht further down the stairs, into the bowels of the palace. “Your boy’s fur does a good job of keeping my boys warm on those cold nights in the mountains…but now that we’re gonna be posting up here for a while, I don’t think I’ll need to wear it as often. ‘Course, I’ll still need something warm on my privates every now and then…and I could use a project of some kind so I don’t get bored around here.”

Thonin hummed to himself for a moment, thinking, before he snickered. “Heh! Ah, you know, Grif’s already given me his blessing to use you…so, I think I’m gonna spend some time training you how to suck cock properly. It’s a key skill for a concubine,” he added with a wink.

Ruprecht gulped nervously as he, Thonin, and the bull descended further towards the dungeons.

Back in the throne room, however, Grif had swapped places with Slop—the pink-skinned fox was sitting on the throne, with Grif standing before him, towering over the boy and still wearing his newly-acquired crown. Grif had divested himself of his pants completely; now bottomless, he was aiming his cock at Slop and hosing him down with a thick, powerful stream of piss. The bear’s slightly acrid, translucent urine splattered and splashed against Slop’s bare skin and flowed down along the soft, plump contours of his body in rivulets and runnels before seeping into the velvet-upholstered cushions on the throne.

Grif smugly leered down at Slop while he used the boy and his throne like a urinal, lazily showering his head and face with his piss, then aiming for his open mouth before hitting him squarely on the chest…then stomach…then groin. Slop moaned wordlessly in exultant pleasure as he rubbed his hands over his body, relishing the warmth of Grif’s water.

“Heh, good bitch…get your king’s stink all over you and all over that throne,” the huge bear rumbled, arcing his piss into Slop’s face again. His urine splashed against the boy’s muzzle, and Slop opened his mouth to catch it before swallowing a mouthful…then Grif aimed for his stomach again, watching the splatters of urine bounce and land on the fox’s body and on the throne…and he loved seeing the growing, darkening stain of his piss on that fine velvet. “Gotta remind everyone who you and the kingdom belong to now…”

“It’s all yours, Papa Bear,” Slop murmured happily as he idly caressed his small pregnancy bump.

“You know it is, piglet,” Grif growled in agreement. He chuckled as he continued pissing. “Heh, think I’m gonna need to mark up your ol’ daddy’s bed next…maybe after I take you up to his room and I fuck those adorable little tits of yours for a while.”

The bear adjusted his aim, now hitting Slop’s small breasts with his piss, and the fox sighed contentedly.

“They’re just so cute…and they look so good with my dick between them,” Grif mused, hosing down the fox’s pillowy pecs and making the chain connected to his nipple piercings jingle and tinkle lightly.

“Mmm, yessir, they do,” Slop grunted.

“Heh, you want that?” Grif asked teasingly. “You want Papa Bear to tit-fuck you on your daddy’s bed and blow another fat load in your face for you to lick up?”

“Rrrf! Yes please, Papa Bear!” Slop happily yipped.

Grif grinned deviously at the fox while he continued pissing on him and the throne. “Heh, good bitch. You know, I think I’m gonna enjoy being the new king around here.”