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Claudia the Monster Tamer vs. The Ratkins

“Hey, look,” the raccoon ruffian jeered, shoving an elbow into the ribs of his possum pal. “Big Claudia just toddled in.”

The possum socked his fist into the raccoon’s kidneys. “Ah, who cares?! You're so obsessed with her. Why don't you go introduce yourself? You can be losers together!”

“Fuck off!”

Claudia's eyes shifted to the side warily, the St. Bernard suspecting that the tavern scuffle escalating in the corner had something to do with her. They definitely weren't fighting over who got to hit on her. Claudia knew this because her body was too large, her muzzle too jowly, and her mannerisms too awkward. Insecurity followed her like a dark cloud everywhere she went. Insecurity…and intense, all-consuming horniness. She had done everything she could imagine to sate herself. A wide variety of vegetables, every finger on her hand, and even the hilt of a bone-handled dagger had disappeared between her thick thighs. None of them was good enough. They didn't throb with lust. They didn't thrust on their own. They didn't do everything they could to fill her up with seed and impregnate her. Just the thought of it made her pant. But when males saw her clomping down the street in her leather armor with a massive sword on her back, they were either too intimidated or too embarrassed to be seen with her to introduce themselves. Little did those males know, she would love nothing more than to drop to her knees before any of them and breathe in lungfuls of cock musk right through their trousers.

But that simply wasn't in the cards. No, Claudia had come up with another strategy. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and they didn't get much more desperate than this. She palmed the warm elixir vial in her pocket as she approached the bounty board.

RATKIN EXPULSION BOUNTY

REWARD: 200 SILVER

Ratkin have infested a cave near my farm. Maybe as many as 3 or 4. Eating my crops. Payment on proof of expulsion.

Ratkin, much to the chagrin of many, were a protected species under the Demifolk Act. While merely relocating them was the legal solution to Ratkin raiders, there was no shortage of bounty hunters that would simply discreetly kill them and bring proof to the disgruntled farmer. Coin would exchange hands, and the local authorities would never learn of any of it. That wasn't what Claudia had planned. She'd do this by the book…more or less.

Claudia gulped and snatched down the notice before taking it to the barkeep and holding it out for him to see.

The fat pig snorted at her, amused. “Yeah, I saw it. I put it up there. Put it back.”

“I'm claiming this,” Claudia snarled, trying not to let the anger and shame show in her eyes.

“Hmph,” the barkeep grunted, smirking as his eyes swept over her. “Okay, Claud’. Why the hell not? Nobody else is taking it. Maybe you'll finally get a little blood on your sword.”

Claudia glared daggers at the pig before storming out of the tavern. She couldn't allow this to ruin her night. To drive away the discomfort plaguing her mind, the Saint Bernard allowed her thoughts to wander back to the genesis of her plan.

—-

“You sure this is what you want? You a berserker?” the alchemist goat asked, sloshing the vial of glowing pink liquid in one gnarled hand.

“I use a sword…but I wouldn't go that far,” Claudia replied, wishing the old bastard would just take her coin and stop asking questions.

“Then you'd want an oil to poison your blade, or enchant it,” he suggested, gesturing to the shelf behind him. “The Emotion Potion transfers emotions on contact from the drinker to anyone who comes in direct contact with them. Useful for winning a difficult argument or…a love potion. Geez, you're not using it for that, are you? Because if you are, I can't–”

“No, no, no!” Claudia groaned, slapping her hand on the table. She had to come up with something to salvage this transaction. “Look, I am a berserker. And despite the sword, I specialize in grappling.”

“‘Grappling’?” the merchant muttered, one brow lifting.

“Yes. Like wrestling,” she replied, leaning forward over the counter and showing her teeth. “I want the rage that I feel to flow into my opponent so that I can truly indulge in the thrill of battle with a creature that hates me every bit as much as I hate them.”

“Geez,” the goat wheezed, setting the potion on the counter and backing away. “That's…uh…pretty badass?”

“Y-Yeah, it is,” Claudia grunted, swiping up the bottle and replacing it with a fistful of haphazardly tossed coins.

She stormed out before her barely suppressed anxiety could crack through her “berserker” persona. As she rounded the corner behind the alchemist's shop, the big dog dropped into a squat and started panting until the stars in front of her eyes went away. Bracing herself against the wall, Claudia stood and began the long walk back to Wyldesvale.

Nobody in this town, Midwitch, knew her. If she'd tried this stunt at the apothecary near her house, the rumor mill would have made her life a living hell within minutes.

“Who is she trying to bewitch?”

“Nobody get near that big pervert!”

“Maybe now she'll actually get laid!”

The imagined taunts felt like an iron horseshoe in her gut. They would've been right.

—

The Emotion Potion tingled as it trickled down her gullet. No going back now. The mouth of the cave yawned open before her, exhaling cool air up her too-shirt kilt…which had nothing but fur beneath it. Internally, Claudia was anything but cool. Horniness had to defeat anxiousness, or all of this would be a humiliating disaster.

“Come on, girl, sexy thoughts,” the chubby dog muttered to herself. “Hank the blacksmith, slapping his big mule dick on my muzzle. Calling me a whore.”

It was her all-time favorite bedtime fantasy. The muscular equine would order her to her hands and knees, ass in the air. As he lifted her tail and spread her out with his calloused thumb, he would whisper harshly that he didn't want her to say a word. He was going to pretend that she was Esther, his beagle neighbor, and hearing her goofy, deep voice would ruin the illusion. Claudia would nod in agreement, but as he slid inside of her, she would whimper and moan in the highest register she could manage. Her beefy body could take him easily, but Esther's couldn't. Hank groaned Esther’s name as Claudia clenched down around him. Yeah, you big fucker. That's what your little beagle bitch would feel like.

Claudia’s eyes shot open to find herself standing in the cave entrance with her hand sawing furiously between her legs. Gods, that was a bit much. She quickly recomposed herself and looked around, sniffing at the air. No sign of any Interlopers. Not that she'd be able to smell them over the stank coating her fingers. She shifted her boiled leather chest armor, wincing as it scraped against her hard nipples. Finally, she tightened her leather helm, feeling the cutouts pressing against the base of her floppy ears. Her crystal lantern flared as she triggered it to life. Time to sally forth.

The cave was a wide one, thank the gods. Squeezing her bulk through a tiny crevice nicknamed “The Spine Crusher” or some such was the last thing she needed. Even better, the cave featured frequent clusters of the very same crystals that powered her lantern. They didn't glow as brightly as hers, as the lantern’s reservoir contained an oil that greatly enhanced their luminescence. It was enough to light the way, though. As she progressed, Claudia noticed corn husks and cobs littering the ground with increasing frequency. Rounding a corner, the dog stopped dead in her tracks.

In a large gallery featuring scores of sinister stalactites and glowing crystals, three Ratkin stood huddled together, throwing bone dice and crowing about the results.

“Snake eye! Lose all corn! Give to Partac,” Partac jeered, his scarred muzzle grinning.

“Whiteface think you use cheater dice,” the loser snarled, rubbing his white-furred face in exasperation.

“No crybaby! You lose!” the third rat, a female, cackled. She wore a simple leather loincloth like the rest, and her perky breasts bounced as she laughed.

The revelry was cut short as a massive creature stumbled into the chamber, a gigantic sword held high. Frozen with terror, the rodent-kin could only watch as 400 pounds of certain death thundered toward them in leather armor and an…uh…obviously undersized flannel kilt.

“FLAYA, GET DOWN!” Partac shrieked, breaking his cohorts from their stupor. He dove and tackled the female as the canine hunter began to swing her weapon.

Whiteface remained upright, watching in awe as the dog’s slab of a blade whiffed way overhead, spun in the air, hit a stalactite broadside with a mighty CLONG, and rebounded sharply with the Saint Bernard still gripping it. The weight of the sword sent her staggering before she face-planted onto the cave floor with her butt in the air. What the Ratkin didn't see was Claudia angling her muzzle to the side so her helmet would take the impact. At last, the commotion ended, and the dog lay “unconscious”.

“The hell?” Partac gasped, stumbling to his feet. “What was that?”

“That?” Flaya chuckled, sitting up. “That a pussy.”

The dog's giant butt and everything it entailed was on full display. Knowing the Ratkin were looking at her parts almost made her start panting, but she managed to keep herself in check.

“Worst hunter ever,” Whiteface remarked, strolling up to the stricken dog. “Think she dead?” The Ratkin extended his finger and poked Claudia's butt cheek.

Magic surged through his body in an instant, shocking him like static electricity. Then he felt something else. Arousal…profound, undeniable arousal. His eyes bulged, and his muzzle gaped as he pressed first one palm and then another into Claudia's glutes. The Ratkin’s nostrils dilated as he inhaled her intimate scent.

“What you doing?” Partac asked, walking timidly toward his entranced friend. “If she wake up, we…”

That was as far as he got before Whiteface shoved his snowy muzzle into Claudia's canine pussy, slurping and kissing with unbridled passion. The dog bit her lip so hard that it went numb. It was too early to give away the game yet…but GODS was it ever hard. Nobody had ever touched her like this, nevermind licked her. Every nerve between her legs was on fire with activity.

“What the fuck you do?!” Partac shouted, rushing toward Whiteface and grabbing his shoulders. “She kill you–”

Emotion Potions were more potent than Claudia had imagined. Her explosive lust used Whiteface as a conduit to transfer emotion to the other male, blotting out all of his terror with amorous ambitions. Partac pressed himself into the dog's meaty thigh, resting one spindly hand beneath the base of her tail. The Ratkin's thumb pressed into the warmth of her anus, teasing and rubbing as the creature humped his hardening length into her fur.

“Males!” Flaya groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation as she stomped toward her companions. “Maybe kick to balls bring you back to senses!” The female rat grabbed Whiteface by his scruff and prepared her kicking foot…before slumping against his back. “Oh…I…” she moaned, thrusting her crotch against the feasting male's body.

She'd gotten them all.

Claudia pushed herself up, turning to the Ratkins. “You're uh…you're really good at that,” she gasped back at Whiteface. “You've defeated me…it's your right to do what you will with me.” Her acting was less than credible, but it hardly mattered.

Flaya pulled away from behind and padded up to her face, squatting with her lithe thighs spread and loincloth pulled to one side. “You ever lick female before?”

Her lips had never been against anyone else's face before, nevermind any other part. What's more, she'd never considered engaging in any trysts with another lady. Amazing what ideas extreme arousal could make seem perfectly reasonable, isn't it?

Claudia answered by slapping her broad tongue between the Ratkin's legs and dragging it up slowly, hesitating for a moment as she took in the flavor. She then continued, _SHLOPSHLOPSHLOP_ing as Flaya held on to her helmet for dear life, moaning and squeaking.

Partac rushed to her side, tearing off his loincloth as he ran. The Ratkin unashamedly fondled his penis while watching his friend's pussy get devoured, both eyes wide and muzzle panting. “Fuck-hot…she good?”

“She eager!” Flaya replied, humping the dog's soaked face. “You try!”

Flaya pulled away reluctantly, allowing her comrade to take her place. He held himself by the base, smearing his tip over Claudia's sensitive nose.

This was it. A real penis. She could smell it. She could see every throbbing vein. And it was hard for her. Absolutely enthralled, the dog opened her drooling muzzle and prepared to close over his tip for teasing and licking, just as she'd read about in the books she hid beneath her bed.

Whiteface decided then that enough was enough. “Fuck pussy…fuck pussy!” he moaned. The Ratkin used his tapered tip to swipe through her labia, smearing greasy fluid over it before thrusting his hips forward with a wet SHLICK.

The sudden penetration drove Claudia forward, her open mouth devouring Partac’s maleness all at once. He looked down in shock at his entirely vanished dick for only a moment before gripping her head and groaning as wet heat assaulted his entire organ all at once.

“Gods, blowjobs are loud,” Claudia thought to herself as her lips slurped over his shaft. “And sex!” she mused as her vagina let out a sharp noise in response to Whiteface burying himself in it with another sharp thrust.

Both males fell into a complementary rhythm, using her willing body like a lewd seesaw. The dog relished the sensation of a very grateful male slipping against her tongue as another used his delightfully curved penis to rub against the inside of her sex. Society, which shunned the large female regardless, would call her a whore for relishing in this blend of sensations. “Whore…” That word made her even more horny. She wanted that. She loved being dirty.

Claudia didn't realize the potion was already wearing off. Not that it mattered.

“Hells! I no can take it!” Flaya moaned, frigging herself with frantic speed using both hands. She bent over, lifted her tail, and slapped her ass frantically. “Out of dog! Fuck rat now!”

Partac yanked his hips back, pulling free of Claudia's grasping maw. Strands of saliva still connected them. “Greatest day of all life…” the male groaned in disbelief as he held his dripping length in his fist. He spun around, braced his hand against Flaya’s rump, and inserted himself with incredible ease right before Claudia's eyes.

That's what's happening to me right now! Claudia thought to herself, her pussy fluttering around Whiteface.

Flaya glanced over at their would-be killer. The dog stared entranced as Portac’s balls slapped a rhythm on her rear. Her hypnotized stare gave the Ratkin an idea.

“Whuh?” Portac grunted, glancing down as he felt his partner shifting around him. Her hips were twitching toward the hunter's face. Gradually, the sex addled neurons of his brain came to the correct conclusion.

The two of them humped and shifted toward Claudia's open muzzle. Once they reached their destination, both rats marveled as she dove in to lick, suck, and sniff everything they had to offer.

“Too much! Too much!” Partac shrieked in a falsetto as the dog suckled on his bouncing balls all at once.

Whiteface couldn't see much, but he could sure as hell hear what was happening to his cohorts on the bitch’s other end. An erotic symphony swelled in the cavern as the elder rat bred the adventurer with every ounce of strength he had. “Fucking slut…get bred…get rat pregnant dog!”

Perhaps it was the degradation from the male in her cunt or the taste of pair riding her tongue, but a high keening wail exploded from Claudia's throat as her body went rigid, relaxed, and went rigid again.

Dog female cum on dick! My dick! Whiteface rejoiced internally as he thrust sheathe-deep into the clenching tunnel and unloaded every drop of cum he possessed in sharp, spasmodic bursts that felt like they would never stop. Her body squeezing his now over-sensitive flesh was almost too agonizing to endure, but he remained inside–pushing his frenzied brain to the limits of sensation. At last, Whiteface’s legs gave up their struggle and collapsed, sending him onto his ass. The Ratkin stared up in wonder as his fluid drooled out of the large female in a long, sticky strand.

A similar tale played out at Claudia's head as Portac hilted himself in Flaya and made a series of gasping, choking noises as semen roared into her. Flaya's smaller pussy quickly overflowed, covering the dog's slapping tongue in salty fluid.

“AHHHHHHH!” Portac shrieked up at the ceiling as the two females inflicted unfathomable pleasure on him. He was no virgin, not by a long shot, but he'd never imagined anything like this. Anything this intense. Now, perhaps, nothing less would be enough.

Claudia groaned before flopping onto her side and rolling onto her back. Both rock-hard nipples rubbed uncomfortably against her chest plate as she panted. There was a wet noise and a gasp nearby. Flaya appeared in Claudia's field of vision, staring down at her.

“You miss on purpose,” Flaya spoke confidently, rubbing at her crotch fur.

Claudia nodded.

“You want breed with Ratkin? Very strange, but…very fun. Most fun ever!” Flaya chirped, rubbing her hands over small breasts.

“Yeah! Dog fun!” Whiteface grunted, slumping against Claudia's leg and nuzzling into her fur.

“I…uhh…had fun too,” Claudia muttered. “But I actually did come here for a bounty. The local farmer wants you to leave, and he's willing to pay. Will you do it? I don't want you to…you know…meet anyone who won't miss.”

Partac put his hands on his hips, watching his dick drool its last onto the cave floor as it retreated. “Well…if have to. But where we go?”

Claudia sat up, thinking to herself. She'd come here for less than pure reasons, but did that mean she had to leave that way? Maybe there was something she could do for them. Maybe she was obligated to. No, she knew she was.

“Guys…I have a proposal for you.”

—-

“Hey, hey! Look who's back!” the raccoon shouted, slurring drunkenly.

“Nice skirt, fattie!” the possum jeered. “You getting into hooking? Might actually make money that way, for once! Chubby chasers pay good coin!”

The barkeep looked up at the commotion before grinning at the hulking dog standing in the doorway. “You get rid of those Ratkin? Or you here to drink your sorrows away?”

Three Ratkin stepped out from behind Claudia and stepped into the bar. Whiteface spat on the dusty floor. “‘Get rid of’ maybe not best words.”

“Hey, get those fucking things outta here!” the pig shouted, heading around the bar to confront them.

“Go girl! Like I tell you!” Flaya whispered, swatting the back of Claudia's calf.

“I'll leave when I get what's mine,” Claudia growled, the anger feeling more natural than she imagined it would. “Give me my bounty, and maybe I'll consider leaving one of your asses unkicked. Maybe yours, pig.”

Whiteface strode over to the stunned raccoon and kicked the stool out from under him, sending the tipsy ruffian spilling onto the floor. The possum had only just begun to rise when Partac sprinted over and delivered a swift, high kick to his kneecap. Claudia watched them long enough to make sure her buddies had the upper hand before striding forward toward the barkeep, a smirking Flaya at her side.

“Uh, hey, look…you did get the rats away from the farm!” the barkeep chuckled nervously, holding up both hands before plunging one into his apron pocket. Coins jingled. “And you did it by the books, too! Good on ya! 200 silver.”

Claudia put her hands on her hips. “As you can see, these rats were a real handful. I'm thinking…400.”

“400! Sure! Sounds reasonable!” the pig stammered, fishing out the coins. His terrified eyes darted from Claudia to Flaya, who was twiddling a bone dagger in her nimble hands.

He tossed the coins onto a table and backed away. Claudia swiped them up, tossing a silver piece to Flaya, who caught it in one hand. “A pleasure. Boys!”

“We just wrapping up!” Whiteface chuckled, dusting off his hands after delivering one last kick to the raccoon's ribs.

Claudia and the Ratkin trio walked casually out of the tavern together, Partac playfully socking her on the thigh as they discussed the day's events. Nobody had ever seen the gloomy dog this happy…or this confident.

“Taming Ratkin? Gods save us,” the possum groaned, rubbing his aching eye. “Claudia the Monster Tamer.”

“...Say that again,” the raccoon slurred, sitting up quickly–his eyes wide.

“Shut the fuck up, you idiots,” the pig grumbled, walking dejectedly back behind the bar.

—