FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Johnny Deathgrip in The Land of the Monsterbabes: Slime and Punishment

By: Bionic Beagle

It was another idyllic day in Elliasberg. Three vixen girls crouched next to a hay shed. Two of them cupped their hands around their eyes, looking through cracks in the boards. The other nervously scanned behind them, looking for any signs of an unwelcome interloper who might spot their unwelcome interloping.

“Geez Flora. You weren’t kidding. He’s strangling that thing like he hates it,” Cynthia Eggert muttered, glancing over at her cousin.

“Yeah, totally,” Flora replied, never taking her eyes away from the spectacle unfolding within the shed.

In truth, the penis being brutally ravaged was one Flora was quite familiar with. It had been inside her more than once, in fact. The unfortunate (but considerable) phallus’ owner was Johnny Knightly, a stout possum farmhand with a rather lurid reputation. During a moment of weakness (read: extreme horniness), she found herself approaching Johnny at a barn raising dance. Shortly thereafter, she found herself on her hands and knees behind the new barn with Johnny slamming his muscular groin into her ass. She had entreated him to go faster, and he had. She’d begged him to keep going, and he did. He had given her such splendid pleasure, and at no point had he indicated that he was anywhere near a climax of his own. After Flora's second orgasm sent her sex fluttering over his unyielding girth, she’d asked him if he was close, because she was getting a bit sore.

“Close enough,” he’d answered.

Johnny pulled out and began pistoning his calloused farmworker’s hand over his sticky length. So firm was his grip that it made a clear indent in the firm flesh of his shaft.

“C-Can I help?” Flora had asked, a bit concerned for the organ that had shown her such a lovely evening.

“Nope…” the possum had grunted.

Harder and faster, Johnny had flogged himself. His squinting eyes peered at the glistening folds between Flora’s thighs, which she helpfully held open as a visual aid for the struggling male. At long last, Johnny’s jowls pulled away from his clenched teeth as a strangled sound rattled in his throat. The tip of his member bounced once before drooling a gentle stream of white into the grass. She hadn’t seen many males blow their load, but it still seemed like a pretty low yield.

“Guess you know why they call me Johnny Deathgrip,” he'd panted, grinning sheepishly at her.

They'd sneaked away for a few more trysts since then, and not once had the possum ever finished inside anything but his own hand–despite Flora offering various parts of her own anatomy for that purpose. She'd followed him to the hay shed intending to surprise him and treat her snatch to another vigorous helping of possum meat, but her cousins Cynthia and Alberta had caught her. When they asked what it was that interested her in the barn, well…she couldn't exactly say “nothing” considering what she knew Johnny would be doing on his break.

“Are you two about finished?” Alberta moaned. “I want a tur–”

CLANGCLANGCLANGCLANG

The monster attack bell frantically chimed. Shouts of fear and confusion could be heard rising from the village. All three members of the voyeuristic trio leaped stiffly to their feet and tried to look innocent as four young and green paladins assigned to defend the village charged in their direction–their armor clanking, their sealing swords unsheathed, and their eyes filled with terror.

“Ladies, seek refuge in the church!” one of them shouted at the vixens.

“Let's get the hell out of here!” Cynthia shouted, sprinting away toward town. Alberta ran after her without a word

“But what about…” Flora moaned, glancing back at the barn. Surely he'd heard the bells. He would be okay. With that, Flora ran.

—

“What the hell…?” Johnny grumbled, stumbling out of the hay shed with his hands fumbling at his waistband. Surely it must be another false alarm.

At least, that's how it seemed until a paladin came racing past covered in blue slime. The wolf tossed his sealing sword to the side as he fled.

“Geez. Well, that's not good,” Johnny murmured, walking over and picking up the sword. It felt good in his hands. An unfamiliar sensation of strength and confidence surged through his body. Was this what it was like to be a hero?

“Ohhhh! Where's your armor, Mr. Paladin?” a girly voice cried out.

Johnny spun around to find a nearly seven-foot-tall female great dane, her perfectly proportioned curves rendered in translucent blue slime. He had never seen a monsterbabe in person, but there was no mistaking the nature of this wobbling temptress smirking down at him. He was in trouble.

“S-Stay back!” Johnny cried, brandishing the enchanted sword with as much menace as he could muster. The tip trembled noticeably as he pointed it at her gelatinous breasts.

“Oh, stop! You'll put an eye out with that thing!” the slime chuckled before swiping her arm toward the stunned possum. It extended into a whip-like appendage and snapped into the blade's hilt, sending it tumbling to the grass.

Johnny looked at his empty hand, and then at the sword glinting on the rocky ground. After a quick trajectory calculation, he lunged for the weapon…and ate absolute shit. The smooth sole of his worn boot slid across a moist tuft of grass. His eyes slammed shut as the earth flew toward his defenseless muzzle. But the impact never came. Elastic bands of goo halted his descent, stopping the tip of his nose a mere centimeter away from a bloody disaster.

“I just saved most of your front teeth, you dork,” the slime remarked, using her tentacles to flip the possum onto his back. “The least you could do is offer me lunch.”

“How about a s-sandwich?” Johnny offered as the blue goo spread over his limbs and dipped into his clothes.

“I could go for a six-inch sub,” she giggled, her slime oozing over his flagging erection. “Ohhh…Actually, make that seven.”

Tendrils hooked underneath his trousers and yanked them harshly downward. The possum's cock flopped upward, only to be caught in mid-air by more tentacles. Johnny watched helplessly as the monster’s amorphous body surged over him like an amoeba, pinning his arms and legs in place. He could see his penis trapped within her translucent flesh as it formed a ribbed tube around it.

“How's it feel, handsome?” the blue canine smirked down at him. “Warm, wet…and slimy, of course. Tailor-made just for your dick.”

Johnny ground his teeth as he watched the slime start to stroke his length with the vagina it had manifested. It was the perfect size, the perfect temperature, and the perfect texture…and yet…it just wasn't enough. Hardened ridges slapped against the edges of his glans, which deformed a bit each time her hole sucked at it like lips sipping on a cool drink. Any other male would have been sinking his nails into the dirt and groaning like a cow in labor. Not Johnny.

“It's fine, really. But you should really know that I'm not the…uh…easiest person to…do it with,” the possum admitted.

“Oh, really? Hair-trigger? That's okay. You just fill me up as fast and as often as you want,” she cooed, bouncing her body over his lap.

“The opposite.”

The slime's blue eyes widened in surprise, and her “hips” stopped in mid-stroke. “You're serious? This isn't doing anything for you?”

“No, no! You're doing great! It feels good! It's not you, it's me!”

The slime glanced down at her loins, her face a mask of shame and disappointment. “I mean…I guess you're not as hard as most guys at this point. Alright, I usually reserve this for the third orgasm, but here…”

A chorus of wet squelching emerged from her nethers as they reconfigured around him. Conical protrusions formed around his glans, prodding it with their soft tips. A loop of slime slid around his scrotum and pulled it taught, but not enough to be overly painful.

“I call this the ‘iron maiden'! It makes the boys scream like their tails are on fire every damn time. You're gonna wish you didn't keep me waiting for my dinner!” the slime snarled.

Squishy spikes dimpled the engorged tip before swiping up and down. A tremble went through Johnny's hips as the nubs thudded against the corona of his glans. Nothing except his own clenched fist had ever made his breath hitch like it was now. Even so, it wasn't his fist. It didn't move like his fingers did. It wasn't familiar…it wasn't enough.

“It's actually a little uncomfortable,” Johnny complained, watching his cock's head deform inside of the monster. “Do you have to be this rou–URK!”

“I'm not doing this for your pleasure. Not anymore!” she gasped, squeezing her hand around his muzzle. “We're past that. I'm going to make you cum or burn the nerves out on your stupid dick trying.”

Little did she know, she'd been beaten to that long ago.

Grunted expletives poured from the monsterbabe’s transparent muzzle as her body jounced, jolted, and jiggled. Her “iron maiden” bit into his tip like they were teeth chewing a tough bite of steak. Ribbed flesh scrubbed the shaft, pressing into the throbbing veins and urging his urethra to expel something that wasn't there. Johnny's organ was treated to a whirlwind of sensations, and none of it was getting him close to ejaculation.

“C-Come on!” the slime panted. “Cum in me now, damn you!”

The grip on his muzzle and limbs weakened. Johnny wasn't sure if a slime monster could sweat, but it certainly looked like that was the case. Blue droplets showered over his chest and face, as well the soil all around them. Her body was losing mass little by little. The grip on his right arm was growing particularly loose…the arm nearest the sword. An idea took shape in the possum's overstimulated brain.

“Oh! I feel it! I can't control myself!” Johnny shouted as convincingly as he could. His body flopped and thrashed, inching slowly in the direction of the weapon.

“Fucking finally!” the slime groaned with naked desperation. Her form was starting to fall apart as she committed every last ounce of her remaining energy to feeding on him.

“I'm gonna…I'm gonna…ATTACK!” the possum shrieked as he swept the palm of his hand onto the hilt of the sword.

Though he'd never even entertained the idea of being a paladin, the weight of the enchanted blade in his hand filled him with confidence. He swept it at the monster, being careful to slice well above the portion currently containing his most precious organ. The moment the magic steel made contact, an explosion of heat and light blinded Johnny and sent a wave of uncomfortable warmth rolling over his naked nethers.

“T-Thats it…?” Johnny gasped, his arm holding the blade where the slime had once been.

Between his thighs was a quivering pile of blue slime. The enchanted blade was designed to reduce monsterbabes to their base nature on contact, and apparently it had done its job. Johnny's tingling prick bounced over the creature's remains, almost appearing to lament her loss. He found himself wanting nothing more than to wrap his fist around the sloppy shaft and flog it until he finally found relief. But the sound of approaching footsteps made it clear that wasn't in the cards.

“Ellias be merciful! It's one of the monster's victims!” Captain Salidin of the Paladins cried as he ran forward with sword in hand. The collie’s muzzle darted in every direction as he sought out the enemy. “Where is she, boy? Tell me!”

Johnny pointed between his thighs at the dissolving goo.

Salidin’s eyes went from the slime to the possum's slimy penis. “You did this? Even as she preyed on you? How did you endure?”

Johnny shrugged. “She didn't have the…uh…right ‘touch’, I guess.”

The dog looked perplexed for a moment. Then recognition dawned in his eyes. “I've heard…certain things about you. Johnny Deathgrip, right? And you say that she couldn't feed on you? You're sure?”

“My balls are killing me, so yeah, I'd say so,” Johnny shrugged.

The collie sheathed his sword and crossed his arms over his chest, his mind working at a problem. At last, he reached out an armored hand and offered it to the seated possum.

“There's someone that's going to want to speak to you,” he said, pulling Johnny shakily to his feet. “But first…I'm going to find you some pants.”

“Ah…” Johnny sighed, putting his hands over his aching maleness. “Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize,” Salidin replied, turning to walk back toward the village. “It's simply that it wouldn't do to meet His Holiness with your schnitzel on display.”

“His what!?”

—

The sheep sat with his hands clasped on the enormous mahogany desk, his gilded hat towering above his horned head. He appraised the farmhand sitting across from him with a mixture of wonder and incredulity. Behind him stood a wolf wearing the rather ridiculous uniform of the papal guards. While his clothing was clown-like, his countenance was devoid of all mirth.

“Johnny…’Deathgrip’, was it?” the Pope muttered.

“Johnny Knightly, actually,” the possum chuckled wryly. “That's just a silly nickname, your Holiness. They call me that because…well…”

Pope Exaltus raised his wooly hand to halt him. “I know why they call you that. Your fellow townspeople were very forthcoming on that subject. And I'd wager it has something to do with why that monster was unable to consume your essence. I'm no fool. I know most of my subjects sully themselves in private. And yet I've never found a single one as resilient as you during a direct monster attack. I have a proposal.”

Johnny frowned. He wagered that this proposal was going to be highly disruptive to his peaceful life of hard work, frantic masturbation, and the kind of sex that inspired endless gossip.

“You shall become a Paladin in the Church's service. Your unique qualities will be invaluable in the field of battle. Doing so would make you favored of the Church, of course,” the sheep proclaimed.

“And…alternatively, sir?” Johnny replied, eyeing the papal guardsman as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, I am the Father of the Church, and you are evidently a very frequent sinner. What's more, you've inspired delinquency in numerous ladies in this village that bears our Goddess's name. What am I to do in the face of this depravity? Flogging, imprisonment, castration…the options are endless.”

Johnny's throat made a choking sound. A distant voice in his mind was wishing that the damned monster had just milked him to death.

“Hmm. I'm getting the impression that you yearn for redemption,” Exaltus grinned, tenting his fingers. “Is that so?”

The possum gulped and nodded.

“Outstanding! Get this man outfitted!” the Pope shouted, gesturing his man toward the possum. “And…maybe skip the codpiece. For tactical reasons.”

The guardsman stepped briskly forward, a faint smirk on his lupine muzzle. It seemed he had a sense of humor after all. He grabbed the collar of Johnny's shirt and yanked him to his feet, and then toward the door.

“Ellias bless you!” Pope Exaltus shouted, waving after them.

—

Johnny Deathgrip in the Land of the Monsterbabes: Harpy to See Me?

“You've gotta be kidding,” the possum, Johnny ‘Deathgrip’, sighed.

Mayor Wilkins’ frown wilted even further at Johnny’s words, his porcine nose twitching nervously. “N-No,” the pig mumbled, taking his monocle out and turning it over in his pudgy hands. “I understand why the church might have…misgivings…about our arrangement, but we firmly believe that there can be peace between monsters and normal folks.”

“‘Misgivings’?!” Johnny laughed, pinching the bridge of his muzzle. “They'll send a goddamn inquisition to this place if they find out that you're frolicking around with harpies.”

The pig gulped and leaned across his mahogany desk, staring into the possum paladin's eyes with a look of terror and desperation. “Please don't tell them! Happy Village doesn't deserve an inquisition! And neither do the harpies, for that matter! This is all just a misunderstanding!”

Johnny leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Fine. But are you sure about the second part? They've kidnapped five villagers, after all.”

Wilkins clasped his hands and closed his beady eyes. “I'm sure. I highly doubt this was a kidnapping of any kind. Just find them, and ask the harpies what happened. You'll find them more reasonable than most monsters, I assure you.”

“...Fine,” Johnny huffed, hoisting himself out of his chair and walking toward the door. He was nearly out of the mayor’s office when the pig cried out one last thing.

“Don't hurt them!”

—

“‘Don’t hurt them!’” Johnny grumbled as he trudged into the woods belonging to the harpies. “Fat chance. They're goddamn monsters.”

The possum's eyes scanned the treetops overhead, looking for threats. Sunlight filtering through the leaves caused ripples of dark shadows to flit about. It was no wonder the harpies chose this as their domain. You'd probably never see them coming until–

WUMP

A feathery mass rammed into Johnny’s lightly armored sternum, sending him sailing off of his feet and onto his back. He groaned, blinking up through the dust at his assailant. The harpy was a female dove, although, unlike normal avian folk, her arms were fully functional wings. Each foot featured a trio of slender toes tipped with sharp talons.

“Shit. I knew they'd send in the cavalry eventually,” the dove groaned, her eyes scanning the possum's paladin armor. One of her sharp claws lashed out and tapped against the front of his leather codpiece. “How many did they send? And don't lie, or I'll slice it right off.”

“Just me,” Johnny panted, internally calculating if he could draw his sealing sword fast enough to save his poor, abused maleness. The results weren't good. “They also don't know about your little arrangement with Happy Village.”

“Maybe I'm an idiot, but I can't help but believe you,” the bird said, dipping her talon beneath the edge of his codpiece. “Or maybe I'm just horny.”

With a flick of her toe, the codpiece flopped to the side. Johnny's cock rolled languidly upward until it came to a rest against his belly. Wasting no time, the harpy squatted down and pressed her groin against the underside of the paladin's dick. Humid warmth surged through his member's overtaxed nerves. Seizing the opportunity, Johnny’s hand dipped toward the hilt of his sword. The weapon had only just begun to emerge when an avian toe joined Johnny's hand on the hilt. His grip was no match for a monster's, and soon the shimmering enchanted blade was sailing through the air before clanging against a tree.

“The name's Pesta, and here's what's gonna happen,” she grunted, giving her hips a lurid wiggle. “I'm gonna fuck you unconscious, and then I'm gonna take you to the queen so she can finish the job. How's that sound?”

“Good fucking luck,” Johnny growled.

“Won't need it. You're already getting hard.”

Deathgripping had robbed Johnny's penis of some function, but achieving an erection wasn't one of them. The organ was indeed throbbing upward, its swollen tip nestling into the feathers of Pesta’s crotch. Beneath them, something warm and wet slid over his glans.

“Horny bird gets the worm!” Pesta gasped, dropping her hips.

She clearly had a lot of practice. The paladin's cock plunged instantly to the hilt into a hot channel lined with thousands of tiny, hard protrusions. Clenching her sex made the nubs dig in cruelly.

“Yeah! Howdja like that, big guy!?” Pesta sneered down at him. “Harpy pussies are some of the most merciless you'll find. I think you know why, now.”

“Pretty interesting. I can almost kinda feel it,” Johnny remarked, shrugging.

The harpy was thunderstruck. Her body, reproductive tract included, went stock-still. “What in the fuck did you just say? ‘Almost feel it’?! ‘Almost’?! Feel this, asshole!”

Feathers flew as the dove bounced her hips furiously up and down. The rough flesh of her sticky hole scoured the possum's cock…to no avail. He was rock hard, but the telltale twitches and ball shrinkage weren't in evidence. Johnny was simply not going to cum.

“How are you enduring this?! Goddamnit!” the bird complained, shaking her hips from side to side so that his tip would grind against different parts of her insides.

“Look, it's not you, it's me,” Johnny panted, grabbing her hips and thrusting up into her. It was time to take control of this situation.

“Oh, you bastard! Oh shit, why does your dick have to be so great!?” the harpy cried as her beak craned up to the sky in bliss. Johnny wasn't cumming, but the monsterbabe certainly seemed to be. “I'm gonna…oh shit, I'm gonna…”

Perfect! The possum pulled out far enough to grind the tip of his dick against her G-spot as bliss robbed her of all reason. Choking sounds emerged from her beak. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. And she…fell over. Johnny's penis pulled free of her, throbbing plaintively up at the sky.

“H-Hey? You okay?” he asked, sitting up and examining the stricken bird.

She lay on her back, staring up at the tree canopy above with sightless eyes. Johnny had never heard of monsters reacting to orgasms like this, though there were hardly any documented instances of monsterbabes outlasting their male victims. Despite having been attacked, seeing her like this caused hot embers of guilt to ignite in his chest. There was a way to help her…but should he? Oh, to hell with it!

Johnny knelt over the harpy's face and grabbed his erection firmly. The slime from her sex squelched and crackled as he pumped his fist hard and fast over his length. The familiar sensation activated his frayed nerves like nothing else could, and soon he found himself on the brink of unleashing his pent-up balls.

“Fuck yeah, baby….Here it comes!” he groaned as his rough paw pads scrubbed the head of his steel-hard prick.

Hot ropes of white spewed out over the monsterbabe’s visage. The moment one of them splashed into her open beak, her eyes sprang open.

“Food!? I'm…being fed?” Pesta moaned, licking at her beak as she stared up at the possum hosing her down with protein.

“Ahhhh, yeah,” Johnny groaned, massaging his taint. “You okay?”

“Yeah, guess so. Thanks. But what the hell happened?” the harpy asked, swiping cum from her face with her wings and licking it up. “I remember approaching the queen and…oh shit! That's right!”

“What?” Johnny asked, trying to shove his flagging cock back behind his codpiece.

“Something's wrong with our queen, Celestine! She went into a lustful frenzy, fucking all of our boyfriends relentlessly. They haven't been able to return to Happy Village, which they usually do after visiting us,” she explained. “Geez…that must be why you were sent here.”

“Yep,” the possum paladin affirmed, dusting himself off. “And if we don't fix this quick, the Pope is going to raise hell.”

Pesta’s brow furrowed for a moment before she was struck with a sudden realization. “Hold on!”

The bird bent over at the waist, her beak gaping open. Choking, retching noises emerged from her throat as a bulge made its way up her neck, little by little.

“Eh–are you okay?” Johnny asked, wincing in sympathetic disgust. Birds were truly fucking weird.

She lifted her wingtip as if to tell him to wait a moment. Then, with one mighty hork, a red object slid out of her distended maw. Her nimble talons swiped it neatly from the air before it could hit the ground. She held it out to Johnny. He took it gingerly with his fingertips, grimacing at its slimy warmth.

“That's a sacred grapefruit from the garden of our village’s alchemist,” Pesta explained, wiping her beak on one wing. “It will undoubtedly bring our queen back to her senses. I had gone to force it on her any way I could. It went poorly. Whatever madness affects her must have afflicted me temporarily just by being near her.”

“You…swallowed it?”

“I have a craw, dummy,” Pesta groaned, rolling her eyes.

Birds were super fucking weird.

“So none of the harpies can approach the queen without losing their mind, and all of the villagers are probably fucked into a stupor,” Johnny surmised. “The only one with any chance of getting near the queen without getting screwed into submission is–”

Pesta smirked. “Great minds, possum.”

—

Pain surged through Johnny's arms as Pesta flew him over the harpy village with her powerful feet wrapped around them. Beneath him, dejected harpies of various avian subspecies watched him with surprise and suspicion. A handful of male villagers sat slumped by cottages, several of them being medically tended to by older birds. The care and upkeep of the homes and gardens had obviously been neglected for some time.

“Pretty bad, huh?” Pesta asked, ascending toward a gigantic treehouse. “That's the queen’s dwelling, in case it wasn't obvious. I'll drop you off on the balcony, but I can't go in with you.”

“Yeah, best if you didn't,” the possum grunted, feeling as though gravity were stretching his spine out like an accordion.

“Just curious, you got a plan?” she asked as she levelled her passenger’s feet off with the treehouse balcony.

“If she's as horny as you were, I might have something.”

Johnny hoped he had something.

The paladin's boots clacked down on the platform outside the dwelling’s main entrance. Blessed relief surged through his arms as Pesta released them. She tipped him a nod and a concerned look before swooping down toward the village.

Go time.

The door to the queen's home thundered open as Johnny kicked it. Inside was a disaster area. Satin sheets covered in white stains were flung everywhere. Down from destroyed pillows whirled in the breeze of his entrance. In the middle of the chaos, the queen of the harpies lay on a semen-blotched chaise lounge. The swan’s beady eyes fixed on him.

“A male? Delivered to me? How thoughtful. I was beginning to think my girls were avoiding me,” Celestine murmured, looking at him with a blend of lust and suspicion.

“Name's Johnny, your majesty. And I heard you suck a mean dick,” the possum said, yanking his codpiece down and allowing his maleness to spill out.

The queen looked down at his half-formed erection and sighed. “We harpies are known for our superior pussies. I think I'll put that to use instead,” she purred, flapping up from her resting place and staggering to her feet.

“Yeah, one of your girls already tried that. It didn't work.”

Celestine stopped in her tracks, fixing the possum with a skeptical glare. “It…didn't work?”

“Smell my dick if you don't believe me,” Johnny offered, gesturing to his crotch.

Wouldn't you fucking know it? She did.

With a whoosh of her giant wings, the swan launched herself forward. Her knees slid across the floor as she dropped to them, bringing her head to a stop just in front of the paladin's groin. She sniffed daintily. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“You son of a bitch, you weren't lying. But why aren’t you fucked into a stupor?”

“Female possums are called ‘jills’, actually. And…uh…I just have an oral fixation?” Johnny shrugged, grinning sheepishly down at her.

“Well, I have a bill, in case you hadn't noticed,” the swan grumbled, apparently a bit self-conscious at her limitations. “So sucking isn't my forte. Swallowing, however…”

Celestine’s bill yawned open as she dove for his cock. Johnny watched in wonder as his penis vanished down the queen's gullet in an instant. Hot throat muscles squeezed and kneaded him. As he hardened, he could even see himself bulging through her neck. She stared up at her prey, her dark eyes filled with lust. So aggressive was her dick-devouring technique, the possum knew he’d already be on the verge if not for his self-induced condition.

“By the goddess, you weren't kidding about swallowing,” Johnny groaned, hoping his acting abilities were up to snuff. It felt good, but not enough. Not for him, anyway. “C-Can I fuck your throat? I'm so close!”

Celestine nodded, dragging the tip of his cock against her esophagus as she did. She was clever in the ways of pleasure. Hopefully, she was considerably less clever when it came to detecting ruses. Johnny wrapped his fist around her head, just enough to cover the bird's eyes, and began fucking her throat. Obscene sounds emerged as he plundered the queen's mouth. With her eyes obscured and her body entirely devoted to milking him, she was in no position to see him reaching into his back pocket.

“Here it fucking comes, baby! Swallow it!” the possum growled as he brought the fruit over his crotch and squeezed.

The sacred grapefruit juice tingled a bit as it slid down his shaft and into the swan's maw. She gulped at it greedily for a few seconds before a confused GLUK?! emerged from her throat.

Celestine scrabbled backward in a flurry of flying feathers and flapping wings. Johnny's cock was once again cruelly expelled into the relatively cool air, angry and unfulfilled.

“That flavor!” Celestine shrieked. “It's grapefruit from the sacred tree! How dare…you…I…” Malice faded from the queen's face as the juice ran its course. She looked around her destroyed home as if she'd never seen it before.

“Are you okay?” Johnny asked, trying in vain to cram his impossibly sticky member back behind his codpiece.

“I believe so…but my poor home! What have I done?” the swan groaned, plucking up a cum-stained pillow with her talon.

“If you think it's bad in here, you should look out there,” the possum suggested, thrusting a finger toward the door.

—

“People of Harpy Village…and Happy Village, I apologize sincerely for my behavior,” Queen Celestine announced, bowing before the assembled harpies and male villagers. “I fell under the influence of dark magic, and I was not myself.”

“What happened, your grace?” a chubby male beaver asked, holding up his mangled, stained trousers as best he could. “Is there any chance it could happen again?”

“I…do not know,” Celestine said, her eyes lowered. “But we must launch an investigation at–”

“At once? I agree.”

All eyes turned to the peculiar new monsterbabe sliding into the clearing. Her lower half was that of a serpent with purple scales. Her upper half was that of a fox with deep blue fur, shoulder-length silver hair, and breasts that bounced perkily as she moved. The queen and all of the rest of the harpies dropped to their knees in an instant. As for the males, they simply stared with uncertain and frightened eyes.

“Monster Lord Alicia! What brings you here?!” Celestine stammered, her eyes glued to the earth.

A “monster lord”? Whatever that was, it was powerful enough to make monsterbabe royalty kneel.

“Powerful, dark, corrupting magic,” Alicia replied, looking around at the disheveled village. “Someone is trying to frenzy my babes, but to what end? Why are these males walking free in your territory?”

“My lord,” the swan murmured, bowing so low that both of her wings touched the ground. “We have something of an agreement between the mortal folk and ours. A…uh…cooperative one.”

“Cooperative?!” Alicia growled, red light blazing in her eyes. “This flies in the face of thousands of years of tradition!”

“If we followed tradition, we'd be at war with these harpies! We’d have slaughtered each other without learning what wonderful folks they were!” a surly ox villager shouted at the monster lord. “What is there to be gained from this endless cycle of violence? Not the love we've found, that's for sure!”

One of the harpies, a white heron, jumped to her feet and wrapped her wings around the ox, who wrapped his arms around her in turn. “Please forgive him, Lord Alicia! He doesn't know who you are!” the bird pleaded, keeping her eyes averted from the naga.

Alicia shot the couple an annoyed glance, but did not move to punish his insolence. Instead, she turned to Johnny and snarled. “You. Paladin. I'm sure you, of all mortals, have an opinion on this matter.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Johnny sighed, looking over at the ox and heron. “Before I came here, I'd never seen anything like this. I didn't know a peaceful life between mortals and monsters was even possible. The church certainly never taught that.”

“They certainly wouldn't have,” Alicia chuckled.

“Maybe it's because I never really wanted to be a paladin in the first place, but I don't give a damn what they think about this,” Johnny said, gesturing at the harpies and males behind him. “Only a real asshole would destroy what these people have, and it's not gonna be me.”

“Interesting. Very intriguing,” Alicia mumbled. “I think…I agree. Celestine, girls. You may rise.”

Celestine and her subjects stood, though they still seemed reluctant to look upon their lord.

“We need to find out who or what was behind the magic that frenzied you, Celestine,” Alicia surmised. “It wasn't my associates or me. And that magic is unlike any I've seen the church wield. That means a third party has an interest in disrupting the harmony of this place. Please investigate as best you can.”

“Yes, Lord Alicia!” Celestine barked, bowing low. The other harpies, and even a few villagers, joined her.

“And you!” Alicia continued, pointing at Johnny. “You're coming with me.”

“I don't know that I should,” the possum shrugged. “If I don't report back to my superiors, they're going to send more paladins. And they'll be…less agreeable than me.”

“I'm aware!” Alicia groaned, rolling her eyes. “That's why I'm coming with you. Something tells me we've got a lot to discuss…and a lot to do, Mr. Heretic Paladin.”

The naga grabbed Johnny by the sleeve with shocking strength, dragging him away from Harpy Village like a mother dragging her child by his ear. “H-Hey, not so rough!” he whined. “I can walk perfectly fine on my own!”

“Then do it, already!” Alicia retorted, swatting his ass smartly with her tail tip.

“Thank you, paladin!” Queen Celestine called after him. “And please try to be more reverent to the Lord of All Monsters!”

Johnny's eyes opened so wide that he thought the muscles controlling his lids might tear. “ALL monsters?!”

“Yeah,” Alicia smirked over at him. “What, you thought they were calling me ‘lord’ for fun? Now stop gawking and start walking. Maybe I'll sign you an autograph if you're a good boy.”