FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A General’s Regrets

Never underestimate a Warlock. Especially you’ve been forbidden to lift a finger against!

He squirmed, he fought, he pulled on the bonds. Again.

But the result remained the same with all the strength he applied. All the might he could apply, all the efforts he could do, were nothing against the enchanted bracelets binding him in the air, the legs spread and arms held above his head.

Still, the grizzled and one-eyed Minotaur tried to get himself free, his stern and stoic expression broken into visible anguish as his lips were pulled. Even shaking his head was useless, his horns cut.

He tried, twisted left, then right. He pulled on his arms, on his shoulders as he saw himself through the mirror. A sick display his captor maintained. To let him observe what had happened to him. Oh… he remained the same Urak: blue eyes, brown fur, gray mane, mountain-man beard.

But he was different. Definitely different if he was to glance down there, like his captor oh so desired with those swirling paintings, those traces etched magically on his fur, or that cursed womb tattoo that swelled with each second on his hairy belly.

Still, he tried to pull… To shake… To-

“Urak. Are you regretting my gifts?” asked the deep, rumbling voice, its origin kept in the dark except for the four glowing white eyes flashing through the mirror.

“Get away, Fiend! I do not want any more of your gifts!”

“But they’re gifts. You who wanted so hard to break into my home and yet refuse what I offer?”

The elongated dark-gray nail touched and grazed his chest, poking at the piercings passed through each of the nipples, pulling down on the aureolas. They were getting heavier, feeling so every day. He was sickened of that scalie black finger dancing on the furry breasts and stroking them.

There… That skull appeared.

That damned Warlock was not a human. Was not mortal, it seemed. His head was gone, replaced by a predator’s skull, but those four sockets were abnormal. As much as that body mixing the traits of a southern raptor and the musculature of a human.

Whatever he was… He was nothing but a Fiend in the Minotaur’s eyes. A Minotaur powerless as he sensed the fingers descending along his belly… Something wet dance pressed against his back, his spine, his exposed posterior. It was warm, but its slimy touch was unnerving, teeth-gritting.

“I contacted your Queen. She was irate you tried to break our mutual deal,” said the Warlock, his voice suave and collected, smooth as he whispered to the Minotaur’s pointed ears. He even… Licked them.

“But I confirmed she wouldn’t suffer my wrath for a simple gesture of hers. Tell… Do you guess it?”

Urak gulped, feeling the hand going down, stroking the fuzzy bush in the breasts’ cleavage, then down his groin. Down… Down where the happy trail was growing wider and joining with the pubes that were set aside… And finally, there was the organ.

The clawed hands pushed everything aside, the hair, even tugged on the strands to unveil the sheath. Urak had an organ fitting his lineage, shape and smell. But he felt wounded… so diminutive.

He felt the cold scales brushing against it, and the throb shaking it as the foreskin slowly extended. As the wrinkles were steadily smoothened by the blood engorging the shaft.

He bit his lips, the terror tainting his gaze as the fingers hooked underneath the cock to lift it. And stroke it, carefully, between two fingers. It was like a slimy touch, and he felt disgusted to even share the same room as the Warlock.

“She sold me!” he finally shouted, admitting to his crime. Yes! He had been attempting to get rid of the Warlock. The Queen had been too fast to strike a deal with him; Urak thought she had been colluding with the Warlock. But with a mere flick, his entire squad had been killed, disarmed, or sent away. A single flick, and he ended here… Bound.

Bound and forced to endure those fingers’ slimy touch, to feel the steady stroke as the Warlock’s slimy cock slipped behind him, against his posterior… Numb. Desensitized. Yet, the sensation stole a huff from the Minotaur as his asshole was spread open by the prehensile purple organ. He felt the heat, and then the wiggling inside his asshole as it was explored again, stretched… With the tip purposefully avoiding touching his spot: the prostate, that was how the Warlock called it.

It was a clear attempt to steal a grunt from the Minotaur, to make wince, show weakness, even moan. But he resisted, clenching his teeth while sweat coated his brown-colored fur. He wouldn’t show any weakness to the pervert, allow him to relish the moment, the instant.

“Peace for the country, or a belligerent general. It was no choice,” chuckled the Warlock, passing another hand up. Whereas one descended… Another explored up.

Collarbone, neck, jaw, cheekbones. Then, the slimy fingers held his face and had him look at the mirror, at what he had lost. What he had become while the prehensile cock still wiggled inside him… And could be seen through his guts.

“You-”

“Shhh, shhh,” shushed the Warlock, gripping… harder. And somehow, with one hand, he managed to close the Minotaur’s jaws shut. Down, the lengthy exploration of Urak’s cock changed to a tender ascension, to tracing the blood rushing through the veins underneath the skin. Moreover, as the touch continued, there were more throbs… No. More… Sighs from the Minotaur. “Good Bull. You lost it all… But while you had no qualms about killing me. You know I won’t.”

No. The Warlock would not kill him.

Not because of fear: he had Urak in his grip, bound and weakened.

Not because of the Queen: she was as impotent as he was.

Nothing…

A perverse need throbbed inside the Minotaur’s guts, rolled, and finally hit… Hit his prostate. The sensation was stronger, this time. No… It managed to steal a squirm from him as his lower groin began to burn. Oh, he was more sensitive by the day. The Warlock was training his prostate, feeding him potions and drugs all the same.

But somehow, even his cock was getting more sensitive as he knew he was losing some of it.

Finally, even at full mast, engorged and throbbed, his cock only managed to point up and reach Urak’s belly button. A shame, compared to when he had his cock going way above. The median ring was there but not as marked. His flared tip was impressive, but nothing to scoff at as he felt the squirming length widening his guts, playing against them, titillating them, filling them.

Stuffing them with his scalding hot precum until every crevice, every place, every spot, was known by the former and abandoned General. He felt the twist and turns in his guts as much as he saw them from the prehensile cock twisting and bulging underneath his skin.

“Hrmphhh!”

“Shhh… I know. I know.”

Yes, the Warlock knew what he was doing. That damned Fiend was fully aware of what perversion he inflicted upon Urak as that prehensile cock started to twist, coil, and unleash a barrage of hits inside the Minotaur. His bound legs and arms tensed, tugging on the magical bindings, with a fail. But worse was the pain he felt, the tremor that shook him, the… Horror as he sensed that fire growing in his groin. He felt tension growing in his loins. He felt… tenderness at his flared cocktip while the Warlock stroked him, giving him no chance to resist the assault.

He winced, he whined, he moaned though he tried to close his eyes shut, to be stoic.

But it meant nothing.

Nothing as he instinctively thrust forward. His body answered that noble and bestial call, that simplistic need to breed and take. To fill and… Yes. Impregnate.

He thrust forward, his cocktip held in one closed hand, acting like a makeshift pussy. And he fucked that hand… Fucked it, thrust against the palm, shook his hips. And mooed.

Oh, he mooed. Loud and clear the moment a white and long shot pushed out from his urethra. One line of cum ascending in the air, almost meeting him at eye level before it descended, following an arc, and… Dropped on the ground, splashing only to be consumed.

And again. And again. And again.

His hips pushed onward, following that bestial and needy instinct to breed and fuck. However, there was shame as he felt the tremor going through his body grow, too. No… It was the Warlock’s cock. He watched it, watched that wiggling thing inside his stomach throb, too. But it wasn’t out of an orgasm. He watched it throb, and so he watched it… Grow.

Both in width and length.

Urak watched the growing median ring on it, its width increasing with time. He watched the length twist further inside him while that skull-faced Fiend offered a sorry smile while he continued to stroke.

“Ah… Here it is… General. Do you feel it? The moment?”

No. He was not feeling it like the Warlock. But the heat present in his loins and ass was assuredly linked to it. Urak looked down, his eyes tracking through the mirror how his cock no longer reached his belly button. Rather, it was shrinking. Steadily, before the Warlock released his grip and the organ flopped down, smacking against his swollen and fuzzy nuts before it remained so… Down. Engorged but not stiff. Just there as the Minotaur’s eyes widened and his expression broke.

“HRMPHH!”

His eyes focused higher, bloodshot, as if he could free himself if he pushed enough with them. As if the sensation would stop.

Something stung him. Something felt he had been stung in his inside, penetrated, hit, pierced. His breathing hastened, his eyes started to veil up as only a glance down confirmed something. The tattoo had grown and was now pulsating with energy, with his energy, with the Warlock’s magic.

There was that unnerving pain as the magic seeped inside him, planted its roots in his guts while the Warlock was content to wait for the moment. To wait until the Minotaur was ready and… Well, in heat.

“Anyyyyyyy moment, noooow,” repeated the Warlock, his thumb stroking the Minotaur’s cheekbone while his cock was happily stroking and circling the prostate, again edging it but without allowing Urak a release, or even peace. Only sensations.

“Any… Momeeeeeeent!”

The Warlock was enjoying his sick power play. The Minotaur? He felt the tendrils go deeper inside him, and finally… Reach it. He moaned.

He moaned and sensed the Warlock releasing himself.

No… Urine. No. The Warlock controlled himself perfectly and seemed to have been waiting for this. The moment Urak moaned, there followed the tidal wave of Fiendish and corrupted cum inside. In one instant, he experienced. No, he witnessed how the semen poured from the cocktip, deeply entrenched, and started to flow in all directions. He saw how it started to follow the long trace formed by the bulging cock and saw how the details were steadily erased by the flow going up… And up.

It swallowed everything. It erased everything. It filled everything.

Urak’s moans turned into coughs and gargles. The Warlock released his jaws, but no words were uttered beyond the coughing fits as the pressure on the lungs was growing intense and brutal. Urak’s eyes watered as he was heavier by the second. It added to the tension on his arms and legs.

Still, he gritted his teeth as he could, his nostrils opened, as he tried to endure the flow overtaking him… And the blanketing, soothing, embrace all over his sore muscles. The Warlock had changed him, cursed him. And made it so he was to appreciate the gift. Gift…

Gift… A gift he saw with scornful eyes, blue eyes, frowning eyes through the mirror. His belly had gone round and heavy. It sagged forward, pressing and hiding his groin by its sheer size. Moreover, the skin was taut… The womb tattoo, too, seemed stretched over his brown fur as it shone with an unrestrained might. And so… So, Urak felt the first pang in his stomach. The first hit of something he shouldn’t feel. He experienced it, nonetheless, like a tiny pang of pleasure and pain meddling together. Nothing big, nothing that could encompass his entire guts. But where it was small in size, the sensation grew in multitude.

One. Two. Three. Four. The pangs began to multiply, giving Urak an entire awareness of what the Warlock was doing, even if the cock was slipping out. He had been… Impregnated.

Each pang. Each little needling was another spawn the Minotaur was to gestate for the Warlock. His teeth gritted together; they were grinding loud and clear as Urak scoffed, and groaned.

“You- D-ared!” he shouted, saliva spewing from his mouth as he shouted at the Warlock’s reflection.

“I dared. And you will be so much better. Though… I think we are missing a detail.”

The suave tone did nothing to hide the malevolent desires from that pervert. The Fiend ogled Urak’s lower reaches, stroked his belly as if he possessed it. Oh, he possessed it. But the Minotaur did not appreciate it. Nor the soft chuckles when the Warlock stepped around, keeping one hand locked on the Minotaur’s belly to face him… To take away the mirror and force them to face one another.

The former General scoffed and growled, looking away. And moaned when another pang of pleasure hit him. He winced and opened his lips. He couldn’t resist them. They were so intense and pleasurable, so… Perversely entrenched within him.

“F-Fiend,” he managed to utter, though, as he opened one eye on the Warlock, who kept stoking him.

“Not Fiend. Former Human. But you don’t care. You only care about power and influence. But I know something that can help with that. You’re only a Bull… And I know precisely where your pride lies.”

His Pride. The Warlock had already claimed it and corrupted him.

The Warlock had shrunken and taken Urak’s manhood away. Moreover, he had… Impregnated the Minotaur. Never before had it happened, and should Urak manage to get free… The sole thought of being watched as the Warlock’s breeding cow was an image he was not willing to confront.

So… He kept his eyes away, yet feeling how that hand descended again. The fingers dug into his bristling fur and bloated skin, unnerving the Minotaur as it felt like his guts themselves were stung. But the progress continued as the Warlock seemed focused, admiring his craft as he passed beyond the womb tattoo. And reached… The fuzzy groin, reached for the Minotaur’s sheath, hard-pressed beneath the belly, the folds, and the half-hard cock dangling from it on the testicles.

“You took enough!” shouted Urak, not even daring to look down. The Warlock had already stolen half his size. A glance down, and he could confirm the prehensile organ was reaching past the Warlock’s knees as it swayed with his mind and movements.

However… However, it was not enough as the Warlock stroked the Minotaur’s cock, brushed the tip with his thumb and stole a wince. Not from the sensation, but how numb Urak felt as the finger passed, explored the flared end, caressing the corona.

That Skull-face was almost impossible to decipher, the expressions obscure and obtuse to the Minotaur. But those eyes, the four of them, were darting down at times, then back to Urak’s face. There was… A purpose in the stroking, the brushing, the teasing.

The Warlock lifted Urak’s cock, explored it, passed those clawed fingers over the entire length… Over the veiny skin, over where the median ring would be if he we fully erect. Somehow, his focus on his organ was growing more and more unnerving. Urak gritted his teeth, preparing for the worst.

Yet, the worst he imagined was nothing as his effort, his gritted teeth, his tensed limbs… All broke down when he sensed something cold and slimy against his flared tip.

“No… No… NO!” he shouted, saliva flying from his mouth and landing on the Warlock’s skull. Warlock who didn’t seem to mind as his skull split with a grin. A perverted grin as his slimy cock was rubbing against Urak’s cocktip, smearing it with cum and precum.

“Don’t worry. It is not painful, General. You will grow to enjoy it.”

The former General didn’t want it. Yet, the prehensile organ circled closer and closer to what it had been seeking. And within a matter of seconds, of hastened breaths, of quickening heartbeats…. The tip pressed against the gaping urethra.

He closed his eyes. He huffed. He moaned. He teared up.

The Minotaur had been capable of surviving the conflicts, resisting torture from his enemies, enduring wounds that would have taken lesser men. His life had been mettle and conflict, and pain, and more wounds. His body was a canvas where clearer fur indicated where he had bled for his country.

He had always shown a tough front, whether in battle, in politics, or in intimate moments.

Oh… But he cried and snorted like a tiny broken thing as his cock was invaded and corrupted by that alien sensation.

He felt the squirm inside his precious organ. Worse, he felt the nudging as that cock was worming its way up and toward his prostate. He couldn’t defend himself. He couldn’t move or shake his hips without worsening the sensation as he was stretched from within, and obscenely so.

His urethra bulged on the underside, true. However, the cock was not showing a better front, whatever the angle used. It was bloated, redder, taut.

The more the Warlock progressed, the worse it was for the General, for his cock, for his Pride.

No man could defend himself when something wormed its way so deep inside them. The Minotaur, as impotent in his situation as he was, had no means to fight it. And so… His composure broke.

His mask… his attitude.

“Pl-Please! Get it out! Don’t… Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” chuckled the Warlock, his tip nudging at the prostate and the threshold it represented: tight but to be abused. A tender entrance he nudged at, stealing gasps from the Captive.

“Do… Not castrate me! Do not take my pride!”

“I won’t.”

The dismissive answer disarmed the Minotaur. His mouth dropped, his nostrils dilated, his brows dropped into a complete surprise. Surprise, which turned to pleasure, pain, and utter abandon when the prehensile cocktip speared the Minotaur’s prostate.

No defense could oppose this invasion. The Warlock almost purred from the sensation of the tight organ against his cock, of the flesh held together through magic, while he progressed deeper and further. He purred, his hands holding onto the Minotaur’s taut belly while the General broke down in tears and cries.

“I won’t remove your pride. It’ll be mine… For once, you will be the conquered,” cooed the Warlock, enjoying the moment far too much.

His work, his mastery over bodies… It all led him to that intense moment as he was penetrating and taking another man’s pride. Without shame, the prehensile slimy cock penetrated deeper, following the natural path until he felt the spot he had been teasing before, but from the inside. Then, he ascended… Then went onward. The sensation could have been strange to the Warlock, if he hadn’t been used to it.

But stranger it was for the Bovine whose manhood was penetrated and who had to discover every nook and cranny that formed his prostate, the path that was taken until it all stopped. The movement, the Warlock, the Minotaur.

For a moment, it felt as if everyone, even the world itself, was holding its breath.

“You will be much better, my dutiful servant.”

No answer from the Minotaur, whose mouth opened and closed without uttering any word. The wits must have left him the moment his prostate had been abused. Nevertheless, he seemed and was plainly aware of the sensations, as odd and brutal as they were. The Warlock had changed his body so… So he could witness every little change.

Among them was the flood, the scalding hot flow coming from the sighing Warlock as his cum was pumped along the prehensile organ. It throbbed, and with each progress, so did the Minotaur’s cock, nethers, prostate… Down to his testicles. To those balls as cum poured inside, searing them.

The moment the Warlock’s semen touched them, it was like a fire had been lit inside the Minotaur’s jewels.

Urak cried, obviously. His legs kicked weakly. His arms shook against the binds that held him in the air and in the Warlock’s vicinity. He couldn’t free himself. Nor could he free his body from the mind-numbing orgasm that was shaking him.

His testicles, his prize, were claimed. The most affected was the left one, somehow. It dropped, it looked heavier. But inside, the fire was spreading the furthest and wildest, conquering everything. It took, it swallowed, it devoured. Every swimmer, every little part of Urak that remained in that testicle, was drenched and taken away.

No pain? No. There was only pain for the Minotaur as he craned his head, bellowing like never before. And bellowing again when it was his left nut that was conquered and devoured. Nothing. No place. No little crevice was left untouched as the Warlock kept pumping more inside.

A Warlock who chuckled, reaching for the Minotaur’s face to stroke it, rubbed the thumb against the cheekbone as he offered that machiavellian grin: “Don’t cry. This is only the beginning, my faithful servant. The Queen has bestowed me such a good slave… I won’t waste your talents like she did.”