FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

CONTENT WARNING:

The story you are about to read contains explicit and detailed depictions of the following:

Rough Sex

Dubious Consent/Regretfulness

Anthropophagy

Reader discretion is advised

Prologue

It wasn’t the first time Malroth had found himself amongst a pack of werewolves, and as you’ll soon see it won’t be the last. But unlike before where his ambitions merely fueled by anthropological curiosity this time, against the goat’s better judgement, he found himself almost hopelessly driven by a deeper more primal curiosity. A carnal one, if he was to be honest.

So here he was, in the main tent near central fire pit of the grounds in which the pack had situated for the time being, heeding the words of the Chief, in a display of vulnerability and desire he rarely showed and quite frankly despised. But even he was powerless to deny it. And he hoped that would be enough.

“Sadly your desire alone, your honesty though commendable, is not enough. A sacred tradition like that cannot just be attended from one outside such as you without much consideration. You must be aware of the… risks it poses. You were correct in that we undergo extensive training in order to keep our minds. But how much of our mind is kept, for how long, and what stays… it is not always under our full control. So there are dangers still, many in fact. There are few laws I which we abide by, but the ones we do, we do for the safety of others… and ourselves.” The Chief finally said.

Malroth’s heart sank, to the furnace even. All this pleading, all this openness, all this truth and he was still denied? For practically offering a service to them? What a waste, a complete waste. Malroth felt himself tense up, a roar in his ears. He knew the Chief could feel it as well, he didn’t care in this moment. That was, until–

The Chief raised a paw, his fraying fur displaying countless moons passing in his lifetime, his eyes faded to pearls, his claws dulled to nibs, and his skin encrusted with scars. Malroth took in these details, but also reminded himself these elements had no bearing on his other more wild half should he desire to test his luck. “However.” The Chief continued “I may… be convinced. You see, we ourselves are in a desperate situation. One I feel is more pressing than your... personal endeavor. But you may be able to do something about.”

This stopped Malroth’s torrent of a mind just enough. Just enough. “Name it and it shall be done” he said, with as little hesitation his mind could muster.

“Patience, my young interloper. It is unwise to agree to a bargain where the terms are known only to one party. Nevertheless, I shall explain. You see, we– this pack– are not long for these fields, nor these forests. They have long run dry of all that we need to sustain ourselves, and as I’m sure you can assume we’re not as easily able to enter towns and shop for provisions and sustenance as one such as you may be capable of doing.

“Our journey to more fertile lands will be a long one, no matter how we look at it. As it always is. It is one we often take, but it comes equally often with much risk. So to this end, I propose… a trade.”

Malroth barely hesitated, his mind still racing, processing, but his goal could not leave his head no matter how many time he tried. “Get you and your pack some food, and you’ll let me do what I ask?” He got up, barely able to stand in place as it was.

The Chief rose to meet him and again raised his paw, he lead the goat outside the tent. “Bring us an offering of flesh for food, one that will satisfy us, and I will allow you to take part in our night of nights.” He paused once more. “Still.. you do this, and you are accepting the risks. I guarantee nothing, no safety and no precautions. I do not think any of us will… intentionally harm you.“ He looked to a triad of particularly rowdy wolves. “But there’s only so much we can do once such things… are set in motion.”

For the first time, Malroth paused. Now that it felt more real, the weight of it all fell upon him at once. It was scary, he admitted. But the knot in his stomach was intoxicating all the same. He finally composed himself, now that he was out in what could be considered public again, and gave a brief but firm “As I said, it will be done.”

The Chief nodded, a warm smile appeared for only a brief moment. It seems a weight had been lifted off his shoulder as well. “I greatly appreciate your assistance in this matter. Between us and only us, it has been a concern of mine for several months now. The freshness of our game has been… low, and our backup supplies even lower. Something to alleviate that would do wonders for our journey.”

Malroth’s turn to nod, “understood.”

The wolf raised his arms “Wonderful! Now, I will invite you to familiarize yourself with us. We’re not long for these parts, but if you’re going to engage in such an act with us, it would do well to start seeing us as more than just vessels for your pleasure. I’m not blind enough to not see what others see in us after all. We may get… wild. But we’re still full beings, even if it is only half the time. Is that understood as well?”

“It is, Chief. It is.” Malroth said, his voice now fully returned to the cold flatness it felt most comfortable occupying.

“Good, no go forth!” And the goat did so. He knew it behooved him to familiarize himself with them on a more than basic level. But his mind wandered untethered. He had finally done it, he was finally to be among the many threads of pleasure in a tapestry of maleness and mating.

He met with and talked with many of the pack, though admittedly there were not many to do so with. Getting a taste for their likes and dislikes, sizing them up, basic pleasantries, etc. There were those with scars, some with none at all. Some with a fair amount of coverings and trimmings (though still rudimentary), and some who bothered none with clothing whatsoever. Some whose voices sounded like sandpaper to the goat, some whose voices poured down Malroth’s ears like aural honey.

He’d so far done his best to keep to the ones who seemed to actually wish to engage in convesation. However, try as he might to avoid him, he inevitably found himself approached by a particularly wide and stocky wolf he’d had his eyes on since the beginning. The one who’d been a part of the trio of roughhouses the Chief had pointed to earlier, who had since been occupying themselves with seeing if they could extinguish the fire pit with their bodily fluids. It was something Malroth at the moment wanted none of, and as soon as said wolf got close he could feel his instincts had been right.

“So handsome, I heard what yer doin’ for us. Mighty appreciate it here fellah!” The burly male, made a loud laugh that sounded more like honking than anything made by a canine. He then, daring as he was stupid, put his muzzle close to the goat’s ear and said “which side o’ me do’ya want tonight?” The canine rubbed the ever-unignoreable rod shape in his loincloth. “I can make either very much worth your while. Or both if ya wanna git REAL wild.”

Malroth reflexively squinted his eyes shut and backed away from his flirtatious nasal assailant. “I’m perfectly capable of handling either, so long as you can handle a bit of mint before it comes to that.”

The big wolf belly-laughed again. It still sounded like a series of unnatural noises, and now it smelled unmistakably like mead. “Ya truly are one-of-a-kind, Mally. I’ll make sure it’s all sparkly clean for you by moonrise t’night. Don’t you worry your tight lil’ ass none-the-long’r!”

As the wolf trotted away, the goat paused once again. He had only just been re-convinced of going through with this and he was already reconsidering. But no, this must be done. He’d already come to far and he’d already agreed to do it. This must be done, and it must be done tonight. And of course it’d be tonight, after all, tonight was a–

Tract Three – The Blood Moon

The shoulder upon which Malroth was carrying the body of the male hare had started to ache about a mile ago, but the goat couldn’t stop now. He’d done to much, promised to much. He had to see this through if only for his own satisfaction– If he was indeed to find it.

The moon overhead was the color of rust, as if another sun made manifest through the haze of a desert storm, but all Malroth could feel was the cool crisp breeze of the middle spring and the wait rustled through the trees long after the true celestial guiding light had set. It was, quite frankly, the perfect night for a werewolf pack to conduct their ritualistic intimacy. The cult leader had truly been given such a wonderful opportunity, all elements considered.

Still, he hesitated. And with his free hand reached into his robe and procured a bottle of red liquid. He snapped the stopper off and drained it in his mouth. Immediately wincing at the taste, he soon felt as if his insides were being sucked into his heart with the force of a mill. He kept telling himself it was for his own safety, that it would help keep any curse at bay. But it was only when the feeling in his body began to subside that it felt worth it. With a huge sigh and a re-alignment of his balance, he opened his eyes once again.

He continued making his way through the forest, and by the time he finally made it to clearing he could smell them, and he was sure they could smell him too. Indeed, 7 large canine figures began to emerge from the deeper forest, their eyes transfixed on the goat and the +1 he’d brought. He saw some of their tails wag, their ears swivel in place before locking forward.

“Drop it” one of the beasts said, his voice deeper than any Malroth had heard before, his build taller than any of the others around him. This was the Chief, he could tell immediately.

“Curious,”– the goat said– “I always thought it was the owner who often said that to the pup.”

The eyes of the wolf who spoke narrowed nearly to the shape of splinters. “We serve no master, you know this. And we warn you not to challenge this.

The cult leader shrugged. “I suppose fun isn’t allowed here then. My apologies, didn’t mean to offend your customs of solemnity” he said jeeringly.

Another wolf, this time with a more wheezing voice, spoke up “we will have our fun with you IF we feel what you’ve brought us is to our liking. Now drop iiiiiiiit!” Malroth’s grin faded, he did as he was told.

The body of the hare crumpled onto the forest floor like a stiff sack of logs. No visible gashes or cuts, but there were for sure bruises and signs of a struggle. It wasn’t easy to get a lepus to hold still while you killed them. The goat hoped this extra effort wouldn’t go unnoticed by the pack that stood before him, but unfortunately–

“We prefer them to be alive. Prefer to kill them ourselves. Fear and struggle taste best when fresh.” The Chief’s words once again cut the thick silence in the air.

Malroth’s eyelids grew heavy in disappointment. “So then I hope you shall tell me, is what I have brought sufficient? Or have I burned my candle for an empty parchment?”

There was a long, dense pause. There were glances between them, sniffs, and other tiny movements the goat could barely perceive. He lost track of which he knew he’d picked up on and which he’d merely imagined. Eventually four words broke the quiet of the night. “It is indeed sufficient.”

The cult leader sighed in relief, he began to unfasten his clothing and disrobe. “much appreciate, it would’ve been quite the shame to wast–“

“HOLD IT” One of the other wolves, the brawny one from before, interrupted Malroth. Making him freeze, his blood turning to needles of ice momentarily.

“I smell somethin’… else on you. Show yer face t’us, varmint.” He demanded. Malroth slowly raised his hands to the top of his hood and dragged it off from around his head, his horns phasing through it as if they carried no density. The goat’s head revealed itself, and he stood motionless before them. “Open yer mouth fer us!” The huskier wolf said.

Malroth hesitated, “Who made you Chief?”

“Do as his says, Malroth” the Chief interjected.

Malroth nodded and spread his lips, revealing a metallic glint. Most of the wolves growled immediately, some recoiling. “Silver! He’s crown’d his teeth’n silver!” The same stout werewolf from before said, practically hissing.

The Chief howled at the goat, “Make your case or leave immediately, Interloper.” His bared teeth glowing brighter than the moon above.

Malroth hesitated again, his mind racing. “Please understand, Chief, I in no way meant to deceive any of you. Nor do I intend to use these offensively. This is the first time an outsider has included himself in this oh sacred rituals is it not? You can smell a potion on me as well can you not?”

The Chief’s eyes narrowed, Malroth could tell he wasn’t satisfied. “Chief, listen to me well. You yourself told me you could make no guarantees to my safety once, and if, we’d begun. I do not mean to harm anyone here, but you cannot tell someone such things and not expect some level of precaution from them. There must be steps taken for one’s own safety. You cannot deny this.”

A silence once again fell upon the group. Even the wind had quieted itself. The crimson glow of the moon acting like a spotlight of divine judgement upon them in unblinking interrogation. Finally the Chief’s shoulders lowed and his eyes opened back up. “You are reasonable, Interloper. We will accept this as stated and indulge in your desire. But remember this well, goat. One move against us found to be done outside of self-preservation… and you shall not leave here among the living. That is a promise, not a threat.

Malroth considered these words, giving them one final thought. Despite his every preservation instinct telling him not to, he had only one answer to give. “I accept.”

“Then we begin.” The Chief said, “shed your clothes and join us.”

The goat did so, and the tingling knots in his stomach only grew. The pack surrounded him ever closer, their eyes locked upon him, their chests announcing their heavy breath, their… heat. Malroth learned first-hand that canine heat wasn’t simply a metaphor. Their bodies easily warmed the space around them.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity in limbo, Malroth took another step forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a twitch in the crowd. The stout wolf’s eyes transfixed on the lone intruder, his mouth displaying a grin of unfathomable hunger. The goat braced to say something, but a dam of nerve caught the words at the bottom of his throat, causing only a single sound to escape.

That was all his starer needed.

The wolf lunged forward, bringing Malroth to the ground in one motion. Bis body feeling more exposed than it ever had before. “On yer knees” the massive canine said, Malroth’s body complied before his brain could perceive the command. Almost immediately, the goat felt a feeling of force and wetness on his lower regions. The wolf was rimming him, and his tongue covered his entire hole and nearly half his cheeks. Malroth could only buckle in and prepare.

Even now, positioned as he was with the wolf’s tongue gliding over his exposed anus, he could smell the large canine’s junk dangling between two thick pairs of thighs as it escaped his sheath. Dripping, growing, likely quivering with anticipation. “Yer hole’s tightenin’ just from the lacquerin’ of my tongue. You sure you’re ready fer me?” The thick wolf teased with his dense voice. Malroth could’ve sworn he felt it reverberate down to his inner thighs.

The pressure of the Wolf’s tongue was released. Malroth’s hole, now dripping wet, was met with the cool air of the night causing a shiver to run along his body. It traveled from his rear entrance to his brain and back down to his groin. He could only let a moan escape his mouth, the words failing to form in his brain. “Good, I like tha speechless ones.” The werewolf said. “They end up moanin’ tha loudest.”

Malroth swore he could feel the massive canine’s shadow itself weigh down on him as he positioned himself over the goat. He heard what sounded like stomping and growling from the other wolves around them, but sound was barely reaching his ears by this point.

As soon as the tip of the wolf’s knotted shafted touched Malroth’s hole he could feel it: A steady flow of slick, warm, heavy precum slathering the rim of his anus, smearing itself and matting his fur more than the tongue ever could. He could feel himself instinctively squirm, which only made the werewolf laugh.

“Havin’ second thoughts now? I told tha pack I’d get first crack at your tight lil ass. I’m the bigg’st one here when it comes to what matters, and I’m gonna make sure you’re broken’n reeeeeal nice for the rest of ‘em.”

“Ahhh... hah.... forgive me, I mus–“ and that was where Malroth’s sentence would end. For at that moment, the wolf’s thick shaft slammed itself into the goat’s backdoor, knocking the air out of his body in one motion. The cult leader’s body gave in and fell to the ground as large claws dug into his thighs. Piercing fur and flesh as the massive werewolf filled his partner with his cock, rocking it back and forth like a plow upon soil. Was this all he was now? Just a mere layer of pleasure between another man and the earth upon which he now lay.

Speaking of soil, with each thrust, Malroth’s body scraped against the ground. From neck to groin he was dragged across the dirt and grass. The goat couldn’t stop his erection from growing at all the stimulation. Deeper and deeper the werewolf plunged himself into the smaller male, stretching his hole and letting out rough, loud grunts as his did so. The friction of flesh on flesh, slick as it was, still creating more warmth than the normal body possessed. It filled Malroth with a heaviness he’d never known before.

Not too long into the grinding, the goat felt it. The thick, stiff bulb at the base of his assailant’s cock. He could feel it pressing harder and harder on his anus with each thrust. His whole body shook, he tried to pull away with his hands, squirm in protest, he forced his mouth open, trying desperately to protest the inevitable.

But inevitable it was. Finally with a single, slick *pop* Malroth felt the canine’s knot surpass the edge of his entrance, and his head started to feel light. Vision blurred and stomach churned as his whole body was forced to concede to its intruder, causing the goat’s own shaft to emit a trembling burst of pre. The length, the width, the knot, its size, its smell, its weight, slamming full force in and out of his body. The werewolf was beyond words, only guttural grunts and long strings of saliva escaped the savage muzzle of his assailant.

Eventually, as the grunts came to a lout howl, the grip on his thighs reaching their deepest, and the thrusts reaching their fastest and shortest, something else released from the massive wolf. A flood of hot, wet, thick seed instantly filled Malroth’s body. The dam had broken. He immediately felt even heavier, and that was before the massive wolf came crashing down upon him with his full weight.

The thrusts from the wolf didn't stop, not until long after his cock had rendered its last string of semen. All of Malroth’s body ached, but particularly his front, which had bared the brunt of the humping and chafing. His heart could not stop beating, his breath would not catch up, the two felt permanently out of sync. The roaring in Malroth’s ear had barely slowed, the rabid thrusts of his large assailant had seldom halted, when he heard the wolf growl “Was only furst ‘round. We got loooots more where that came from. That means a long, looong nite ahead of us.”

Those words echoed in the goat’s head where his brain had once been. Desperately searching for the rationale that had lead him of all people to this place and this moment here and now. He found none, and so his only response could come in the form of a dry creaking sound from his mouth.

Following this was a choir of cackling and howling from the pack, who wasted no time in commencing their assault. The stout wolf who had just “finished” with Malroth twisted himself to his “feet”, sending sharp pains all throughout the goat’s body from the swift movement. The large male gripped him, holding the cult leader in place against his chest, still knotted to him and exposing him in the most vulnerable of ways. Malroth braced for round two, “I survived the first onslaught, I can survive the next” He thought to himself. But then fate’s true plans showed their intentions.

Suddenly from the crowd the Chief approached, and Malroth’s mind drew a blank. He’d sworn an allaince to this man not even a day ago to be in such an intimate position with him in such a shameful manner this quickly? What HAD he become? Was the Chief REALLY part of this? He indeed was, as the old wolf’ continued approach conveyed.

The pack leader then aligned his thin, twisted, well-used shaft and knot to Malroth’s already stuffed hole. “So nice to see you integrated so easily into my pack. Perhaps you belong here more permanently? There’s room for one more at least.”

At this point the goat began to panic as the double-nature of the canine’s words came into view. His entrance already slick and sore from its first battle with a wolf’s inhibitions, he couldn’t possibly possessed the strength for another. The Chief codlin’t possibly mean–

“What’s the matter?” The chief said. “Not so sure about this anymore? You had to know this wasn’t just an ordinary bargain with one, maybe two of us looking your way. You already know we never have outsiders join us in these dances we do, and that hare you brought us… that would never do like someone so warm and alive as you. We LOVE it when our prey squirms as much as you do.”

“Now let us truly begin."

The blood in Malroth’s veins turned to ice once again. His heart the texture of sharp spines in his chest. The Chief slid his shaft into the sloppy hole of the goat, slowly at first. Second. Third. Before slamming it in while the brawny wolf who had initiated these acts began thrusting again, in opposite rhythm with his Chief.

The burly wolf lay back on the ground, this time with Malroth on top, letting his Chief a better angle to ravage the cult leader’s hole. The goat’s legs dangling between either side of his master’s body, water formed in the ducts of his eyes, his arms holding on to the muscular wolf for balance, anything to tether his dazed conciseness to the here and now. He desperately moaned and gasped for air, but not even that could last for long. The raspy-voiced wolf from before had found his target.

He gripped the goat’s muzzle open with a force that rendered it instantly immobile, leaving the caprinae unable to protest with his silver-coated teeth. The canine pressed his hot, smelly, heavy balls against the goat’s chin, gripped one of his horns with his other claw, and began his assault on Malroth’s muzzle. Shifting between rapid thrusts and slow ravages of his throat.

Tears now streamed down the goat’s face. His own shaft, stiff as a board and leaking steadily from all the stimulation. This was apparently enough to grab the attention of another wolf– who didn’t approach the markhor’s junk so much as attack it between the crowd of other wolves. Immediately enveloping it and Malroth’s balls within in his muzzle and proceeded to further torment it with a flurry of insatiable movement. His whole shaft disappearing and re-appearing in less than half-seconds at a time.

The rest of the wolves busied themselves with the muzzles and rears of those preoccupied with Malroth. Their bodies clashing, their growls, roars, slaps, and thrusts drowning out any thoughts the goat could possibly possess. Nothing else existed, nothing else was real. This mountain of sexual savagery falling with its full weight upon him. It was only now he understood how it was to be ravaged in a way only those on the razors edge of being wild beasts can bestow.

Malroth willed this to stop, he couldn’t handle it. The force of one beast was almost too much to bear. But with two forcing themselves into his rear, one filling up his mouth, one stimulating his own shaft and balls, and others pounding hard at their rear entrances, it was like all of nature itself bearing down upon him. The force of every current, every quake, every tidal crashing down at his most sensitive spots.

Finally, Malroth’s body broke. His legs tightening up one last time before going stiff, his toes quivering one last time before going limp, his balls tightening for one final moment before releasing their volley into the awaiting canine’s mouth, in an orgasm so intense that his spine could feel the recoil. Ropes and ropes of hot goat seed shot deep into his belly, and the canine waisted no time lapping it and his surrounding organ into a flurry of heat, wet, and pleasure.

The rest of the pack, with what seemed liked dozens of piercing howls, apparently took that as their cue. The chief and brawny wolf released their loads into his rear, filling it to the brim and releasing. He felt it flowing back out of him soon after. The one that had been occupying his mouth allowed himself to release down the goat’s own throat. Coating it in hot, thick canine seed. Those who’d mounted the ones contending with Malroth following suit, which started many more chain reactions, and even more to come as the night continued.

“Awrite, who’s next with our lil’ intruder here?” The burly wolf said, deep satisfaction in his tone. The was another flurry of motion, more holes in Malroth’s body being passed around, stopped, uncorked, and filled once more. There was no logic, no rhythm, no grace to any of it.

His whole body violated, heavy, on fire consciousness melted, what was left of the world faded.

Epilogue

At first, Malroth could only move his toes. Then his eyes. That was a mistake. Only a blinding light greeted them upon opening. His fur, especially around his anus, was matted and stiff. Unbending to the warm breeze. Finally, he could feel himself breathing again. This was a good sign, but it wasn’t good that when he exhaled, it was accompanied by thick hacks and coughs.

This got the attention of the chief, who Malroth could smell as he approached even though he was no longer assuming his were-form. In fact, he could now distinctly pick out each of them, for reasons his mind did not wish to dwell on. “Good morning, interloper. How terribly are you feeling?” The Chief said.

Malroth finally forced his eyes open long enough to focus on the canine, who was now sitting just out of reach, holding a clay bowl. “You assume as such for what reason?” The goat slowly replied, his mouth refusing to move at normal speed.

“Perhaps it is because you’re just now waking up past midday, you’re still naked, and you’re covered in more cuts, bruises, and climax than anyone I’ve ever seen.” The grin on the Chief’s face audible in his tone.

The goat tried to sit up but immediately began to fall back, his spine not providing the necessary structure to hold himself upright. The Chief caught him, setting him back down as he started to feel his whole body ache once again. “Rest as much as you need, I was only making fun. That IS allowed here after all. Speaking of, how was it? Everything you’d hoped for”

Malroth had to pause before his response arrived. “And more. Thank you.” After a moment the Chief handed him the bowl, which contained some sort of stew. “What’s on the menu?” The goat asked, still battling pain and soreness with every movement.

“Remember that hare you’d brought us?” The Chief said simply. Malroth looked down at his bowl, then to the fire pit the rest of the pack was gathered around, then to what remained of the body he’d brought with him the night before.

This contemplation lasted merely a moment before he began eating. It was incredibly delicious, whether that was from genuine taste or his immense exhaustion and hunger was a question that rapidly faded from his mind unanswered.

As he paced himself with his stew, the brawny wolf noticed Malroth eating and left the fire pit to pass by him and the Chief. “Mornin’ Mally! Was I good enough for ya?” He said chuckling.

Malroth swallowed a bit of meat and carrot before simply answering, “I enjoyed it, thank you.” “Hope ya dun mind the bit o’ me I left on ya in the nite, consider it a memento for a lil while!” The wolf belly laughed as he walked away, returning to the fire pit.

“Thank you for putting up with him. He’s easily the one who indulges in our rituals the most… passionately.” The chief said. Malroth looked to the Chief, wordlessly asking what the huskier wolf had meant. “Oh, that? Well… it IS tradition for us to mark each other during our rituals. It is a way of strengthening pack bonds. I don’t think we would have done it for you since you’re not officially ‘in’ with us, but either he couldn’t control himself last night or… he most likely just wanted to do that to you anyway, knowing him.”

Malroth gave his fur a proper visual and nasal inspection, and sure enough he smelled exactly like the wolf from nearly horn to toe. He couldn’t admit it out loud but he liked it, in fact he loved the syrupy wolf smell on him, and found the idea of it being performed quite hot. He made a note to try it on someone himself one day soon. He also noticed that while he was indeed coated evenly in cuts, he showed no signs of lycanthropy. Malroth sighed in relief, the potion had worked.

The cult leader eventually finished his meal, and gave the bowl to the Chief, who took it to the fire pit before returning to Malroth, this time with the goat’s robe in tow. Perfectly folded and presented. “I… thank you” Malroth said, the words almost failing to escape him.

“There is no need to thank me. Simply walk along with me.” The chief helped the goat to his feet, his joints cracking like timber. Once Malroth had donned his robe, the Chief started leading the goat to the edge of the forest clearing.

The Chief continued “I must thank you, truly. If you had not procured that quarry for us, we… honestly would not have had enough energy to survive the journey ahead of us. I must also bestow my thanks for one other reason.”

Malroth looked toward the Chief, waiting on his next words. “As a result of this… unfortunate situation, pack moral has been dreadfully low for months. Our rituals are meant to supplement our bonds, not supplant them. But sadly for a while now it was almost the only thing keeping us together. That was until you came along.” Malroth raised an eye, but dared not interject. “You… saved this pack, Malroth. In more ways than one.”

“And this is why you let me partake, I assume?” Malroth inquired.

The Chief nodded “The sole reason.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The goat asked.

The Chief almost interrupted with his response, “You needed to know. You came here for selfish reasons, you wanted to use us as personal objects of pleasure. I understand you may have had curiosities about our culture but that’s not why you approached me yesterday. We both know that. But I felt you needed to know what your actions have done for us, just in case… your intentions have shifted.”

Malroth pondered on this, his brows furrowed. As best they could at least. “You.. used me. You took my vulnerability, my moment of need, and used it to further your own goals.”

“Call it whatever you want, I think we both helped each other. You got your rocks off, and we’ve grown stronger as a pack once more thanks to your altruism. Unwitting or otherwise. What else do you think that offer was for?”

As desperately as he wanted one, the goat had no answer. “That’s what I thought.” The Chief said. “And perhaps you’re not as vile as you pretend to be.”

Malroth’s face darkened, as did the light around them in the woods. “Oh I promise you I am VERY capable of enacting whatever foul I wish.”

“Then how did I coax you so easily, hmm? What have you got for that which cannot be undone?” The Chief sneered.

“Is that a challenge!?” Malroth said, almost screaming, “I can show you EXACTLY what happens when control is taken from me!” The goat lunged towards the Chief, who dodged out of the way. Malroth spun around and saw–

Nothing

The forest clearing was empty. No werewolves, no tents. The spot where the fire pit had once been was covered in grass, as if the land was never touched. Malroth suddenly felt very cold. He looked over both shoulders, checking if he was indeed alone. The cult leader began making his way back through the forest towards the edge, treading lightly and counting footsteps as he did so. The pain in his body now feeling like a distant and barely corporeal memory.

“What else do you think that offer was for?”