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Warped to the Core

Skavens are a plague for the Empire… But they’re cunning.

The torches burned brightly, illuminating the way ahead.

Yet, the progress remained as slow as if they were fumbling in the dark. The stone was unsteady under their feet, the smell of rot and soot abominable. There were traces of activated traps, in the shape of skeletons stuck to the walls by protruding arrows.

Viggo? He watched it all, even examining the bones. Rot had taken most of the flesh away.

“What happened?” asked one guard behind him.

An old Ram with scars all over his face. A veteran, yet one whose body was failing him. He was the Captain, by the account of his armor and the medals plastered on it. But the way he held his blade, the quiver in his fingers.

Viggo noticed it and sighed, turning to face the poor man as well as the escort.

“Skavens. Undoubtedly,” he said with a scoff.

He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting while his remaining blue eye scanned the amassed crowd. Twelve guards, not counting the captain. That was all Grat, or Granitdorf, could offer.

The village lived on the periphery, close to the mountains, and was but a shade of its former glory. Once, it delivered stone used for most constructions, while its iron mine fed the village.

However, the mine had been closed off, and the solid stone was ignored in favor of more refined materials such as marble.

Hence, the black-furred Wolf couldn’t take it against those poor men to offer such a paltry resistance. They were but veterans back from war, trying to make a life in a dying village before they and their families had to move on.

The issue was how they handled him… How they were speaking among themselves, and already questioning his findings.

“How can you tell?” “Shouldn’t we have found them already?” “I heard they’re monsters.”

Viggo tapped his finger on his forearm, waiting as even the old Ram turned away, trying to get a word in edge-wise before they turned towards him. Towards the Witch-Hunter, towards the Wolf whose body was covered with scars. He was a saint of stoicism compared to them.

He looked at them. Fools, all of them, clutching their blades and torches.

“Who else could have set traps here? Bandits?” he scoffed, shaking his head and then grabbing his two-handed club with one single hand, hefting it at shoulder-level. “Bandits wouldn’t know about what lies underground. Nor do you?”

“A danger?” asked another Guard, a stout Bull, his cheeks gaunt.

“Warpstone,” said Viggo as he pointed ahead with his muzzle, in an order for them to follow.

He heard them grunt and growl, but they followed dutifully while he was watching for the traps. Most had already been used, so it was easy to spot the unused traps or even dismantle them while the Guards spoke and asked themselves what the Warpstones were.

“You never saw them. Long ago, the Emperor Magnus the Pious forbade their mining,” began Viggo, pushing against a collapsed beam. “They’re called Witch stones, Wyrdstone, or Seer-stone. But they’re all… Cursed. A green blight underground.”

“And we… There are Warpstones under our village.”

“This is why your mine has been closed. But that wasn’t enough,” replied Viggo, stern. “They are powerful magical artifacts. They twist minds, and they attract Skavens like honey attracts flies.”

“Wh-Why haven’t we warned?” shouted the Ram.

“Would the villagers have kept quiet if they knew a trove of magical ore lived under their feet?” asked Viggo, glaring over his shoulder. “I am only sharing this with you because your village is condemned.”

“He- He is serious?!” shouted a Guard behind.

“Quiet!” shouted Viggo, snarling.

Yet, as he progressed slowly, he heard the commotion behind. Followed by the sound of an unsheathed blade. He turned, twisted, and faced the Guard, a lupine like him, and the blade pressed against his neck. Not a hint of fear in Viggo’s eye while the other Wolf trembled.

“We… This is our home. We will defend it ourselves. We do not need you.”

“Calm down, Scarn,” said the Ram Captain.

“Calm down? He comes here, says we have… Skavens under our feet, and we will lose our village! How can I be calm, Captain?! He’s forcing us to exile. How can I stay calm?!”

“Because,” said Viggo, grabbing the sword and pushing it aside with his gauntlet. “Exile is a mercy compared to what the Skavens will do to you. And…”

“And?” snarled Scarn, his eyes looking at Viggo, whose gaze was focused behind him.

“Sigmar, have mercy.”

Viggo’s eye, and soon Scarn’s as he turned, saw what was behind. The passageway was now full of Skavens. Large, massive Rodents, wielding rusty weapons and armor. Their rearguard had been captured and overrun. Out of the twelve guards, only five, including the Ram, remained afoot while the others had either been wounded or disarmed.

It’d been so quick, they must have been prowling them.

“Watch out!” roared Viggo as he lifted his club and swung it forward. Scarn, the Ram, as well as the other Guards, ducked in time to avoid the massive metal club going their way.

However, the first Skaven was definitely caught by the hit.

His armor absorbed the hit, but the momentum hurled him, making him stumble and step into a trap. The click was loud. Louder was the scrunching noise as the stones fell on him.

Viggo roared, his ears up: “RUN!” He beckoned the Guards to follow, to survive.

Yet, in the melee, only three followed. The others were too slow to react as the flood swallowed them. Their cries were louder, but louder was Viggo’s heart thumping in his chest as he ran ahead, following the path and ignoring how wet or unsteady the stone was.

His boots stomped on the ground, his mind afire as he looked for an opportunity. For an exit. For a way to escape. If they were in a Skaven colony, there had to be adjacent tunnels. But he saw none as he continued to descend, the light from their torches replaced by the green hue of Warpstone. As the carefully built and supported tunnels were replaced by dug-out holes.

Yet, as he twisted his ankle and took a sharp turn right, something… Something hit him in the face. The blood ran warm; his eye rolled. What struck him?

-

“Please! Please! Please! It burns! It burns so much! End this! Please! Sir! I need it!”

“It… It never ends. Does it?”

Viggo opened his only eye. The other was but a mesh of scared flesh. Even his eyepatch had been removed when they stripped him of his gear. The Skavens definitely had no respect for proper gear, and sometimes, Viggo saw one of them parading with parts of his equipment: his breastplate was worn by an enormous ogre-like Skaven. His shoulder pads were used as a bowl. As for his loincloth? He preferred not to wonder.

However, his eye drifted not onto the rusty bars of his massive cage, nor on the hardly lit prison around. But on a huddled shape, with a green glow sticking to his body.

“No. It will never end,” said Viggo, his voice calm as he observed Scarn.

What he assumed to be a Veteran was merely a poor sod who’d lived in the mountains and avoided conscription. He’d never experienced the horrors of war, never seen its ugliness.

He was young. Not a teen, but of an age to get a female.

And yet, he was condemned.

Condemned as Viggo observed the brown-furred Lupine bastard shudder. As he saw the fingers twitching in a fight against the need to explore his body. They pulled on the glowing green piercings passed through the Lupine’s swollen nipples, or yanked on his erect cock and the studs pierced along the lower side.

The poor sod was almost at the end. Though his willpower allowed him to push away the worst of the Warpstone’s effects, it was definitely affecting him.

Those curves belonged to a female, whether it was that ass, curvy and large, or those generous thighs. Or even those plump breasts that had been blossoming lately.

Viggo couldn’t deny it… They looked tempting. Comely. Something he’d see from wenches in the capital. Yet, it was definitely a male before him.

One whose body and will dwindled, reduced to nothing more like a toy, a plaything, a fuckable piece of meat for the Skavens.

Much like the Ram. He never asked the Captain’s name, but the poor Ram had his ass pressed against the bars in another cell. He was definitely gone, too busy fondling his breasts and squeezing the milk out of them while begging anyone, any guard, to step in and fuck that ass.

“Please! Good sir! Fuck my cunt! My big cunt!”

“Good! New plaything ready! She heat?!”

Viggo’s neck snapped looking at the Skaven entering the room. One stout Rat, wielding a spear while he fondled his codpiece and then… Pulled on it to remove it. To reveal his erection underneath it. A cock that was… Well. Impressive. Massive even by all standards.

It could be compared to an arm, daunting in many ways because of its spines. But it didn’t deter the Ram, who begged, shook his posterior, and then moaned when that cock was inside.

“He-He’s done,” mumbled Scarn, watching the Ram drool all over himself and ejaculate in his cage, spraying cum all over it.

“Late stage of the corruption,” confirmed Viggo, nodding as he adjusted and closed his legs, trying to meditate despite the shouts. Despite the moans from Scarn brushing his asshole, or the brief spurts from the Lupine’s soft cock dripping on the floor.

The exposure to Warpstone could be described in three stages in the case Skavens’ slaves.

The first stage was pain and dizziness; the weak of mind would already break, while most would be left unscathed if not suffering.

The second was euphoria; the majority would lose themselves to it, to the pleasure, to the needs… Becoming nothing but ravenous sluts eager to be taken.

The final stage was the breaking, the emasculation, the entire corruption.

Scarn was at that stage, unlucky as he was.

Through Viggo’s coaxing, he’d endured the stages. He’d kept himself. But the old Witch-Hunter could see the gleam in the eyes, the Lupine swallowing his saliva when each Prisoner was taken away.

Finally, as the old Witch-Hunter meditated, as he repeated the mantras; he heard it. The slow steps, then the cry of the metal as the Lupine pressed his posterior against the bars.

“Please! Please! I can be taken, too! Take me! Too!”

Viggo strained to keep his eyes closed.

He didn’t dare to look at Scarn, to see that body, because it would awaken earthly desires. Make him needy, make him feel it.

And so… He only heard the cries, the cheers from another Skaven, and then the moans of pleasure from the Lupine whose ass was surely taken.

It didn’t take long for Scarn to cum, for the Lupine to shudder, tremble, and then cry in despair while his mind was broken from being bred.

It didn’t take long before he was taken away, leaving Viggo alone as he repeated the same mantra he’d been told as a Witch-Hunter. He had to clear his mind, to ward off the Chaos corruption, to endure even as he could sense the influence of the Warpstone seeping into his body.

He was not in an advanced stage, only at the first stage. But so drained was his strength, so weakened was his body as he grunted… And felt the sting of the corruption inside his veins.

However, he… Smelled it.

The smell of sex, of old blood, of food. Something more than the gruel they were fed. There, Viggo opened his eyes and faced a Skaven who’d entered his cell. A black-furred Skaven, bigger than the majority, with red eyes and an aggressive snarl due to a large scar running along his left side.

“Hunter, yes. Last whore. Last unclaimed,” said the Skaven, chuckling.

Viggo eyed the Skaven, seeing how his armor was richer compared to the others, with no rust on it. But that groin was covered with one of the flimsiest pieces of fabric that ever existed. One that was tightly hugging the Skaven’s groin, his cock… His low-hanging testicles.

Viggo saw that bulge and then turned away, grunting.

“Yes, yes! Very good! Reluctant! Reluctant makes best brood!”

Viggo’s ears dropped, listening to how the Rat talked about him, how he loudly snuffled. And how… he acted, grinned, and approached.

“Another step, and I will make you regret it.”

In reply, the Rat snickered as he grabbed his loincloth and removed it, ripping it apart to reveal his groin. To reveal those low-hangers in a fuzzy gray pouch. And then, that cock. It was… Inhumane.

It was said Skavens were less affected by the Warpstone’s corruption. But that was wrong. That cock was definitely abnormal, with a knot at the base and a flare at the end.

It was a monstrous piece of flesh, one with a few beads on the underside. But worst was the stench, the smell, the odor of magic and corruption.

One odor that hit the Wolf’s nose square when that cock dropped and smacked his muzzle, coating his fur with precum.

The Witch-Hunter’s first reflex was to howl in pain and disgust, then to recoil from the hit while covering his nose.

A recoil that satisfied the grinning Skaven, his red eyes fixated on Viggo’s face… Right while his cock bobbed before the Wolf’s face, spraying precum onto that muzzle.

A disgusting, steamy, and sticky precum that made the Wolf snarl and then open his mouth to bite it.

He jumped, pounced. But as Viggo’s teeth and jaw closed so forcefully it rattled his skull, there was nothing while the Skaven snickered, stroking his cock.

“Good! Good Hunter! Good Whore! Very, very good! Yes, Yes!”

“Hunter… you… Know what I am?” asked Viggo, scratching his jaw, trying to realign it despite the pain.

“Yes! Hunter! Hunt Skaven! Hunt us! But we take back! We breed! Breed more! You hunter! Breed more!” replied the Skaven. “Me Tholk! Me husband!”

Viggo’s eyes widened, and his reflex was then to jump again. Not at the Skaven’s cock but at his throat, he had to kill it. That name, he’d heard it. It was an important Skaven, and-

THUNK!

The hit from the gauntlet stunned Viggo. It hit him in the back as he dropped like a weight. Instantly, he wanted to puke, dazed. The world swirled around him. His eyes were veiled… Everything was darker, more intense, too intense.

The smell, the sound of fire, the snickering… And then, the presence against his backside.

“N-No,” he slurred, his voice heavy and his tongue unable to find a comfortable position in his mouth. He wanted to puke so much… And he howled.

“Good! Very good!”

Viggo’s fingers planted into the dirt, into the dirt with his blood and other fluids spilled on it. His asshole was on fire. It felt like a drill went inside; it felt like a pole was spreading his ass and pushing deeper. It was…

A sensation so obscene, to have something forced in where he was used to… have it out.

But he didn’t have anything inside him… Nothing as that pole pushed inside… Squeezed his inner walls, crushed them, and made his body burn… And ache… And suffer.

His mouth opened while saliva poured free, but his eyes rolled as he could sense the Rat enjoying himself as he was deeper. So much deeper, so deep he could almost feel his stomach bulging and pressing against the soil.

“Yes! Very tight! Good! Need tight for first!” said the Skaven.

“N-No,” groaned Viggo.

He planted his claws in the ground.

His arms were weak, so weak. The headache he’d been chasing with the mantra returned with the concussion. His stomach churned, not only from the cock. His limbs quivered from the inflicted pain and the horror. The fear.

But that cock, that damned Skaven cock was going deeper, and… There was no end to it. So he crawled… Only for one foot to plant onto his back, pinning him to the ground.

“No! No! Whore stay put! Whore fuck!”

‘Whore’. Not even a name, not even any other way. Just whore.

Whore as Viggo grunted and growled, feeling that cock pushing so deep within him, it felt like it was crushing everything.

And then it stopped. Or rather, the Skaven’s testicles were against Viggo’s posterior, their hips joined save for the small distance from the knot. The Rat’s cock was inside him, almost.

Breathing was difficult; his stomach had to be crushed. It felt like he had broken ribs… But that cock was definitely inside and then… It slipped back.

It slipped away, leaving behind a sensation of emptiness. A gap within himself, a hole that couldn’t be filled. One hole whose mere presence made the Wolf howl and shudder and quiver, his face pressed against the ground.

“First breeding! Hard!” said Tholk, as if it was a pathetic apology for the Wolf writhing on the ground, his face under his arms.

An excuse that was finished by a thrust inside Viggo’s ass, by the Rat pushing inside him and half-way dragging him on the floor before he pulled back.

Back… And forth. Back. And forth.

Viggo’s mind was fighting against the waves of nausea, horror, and displeasure. He fought against the dishonor and shame of having a Chaos spawn use his asshole. Corrupting him, ruining him.

He gargled, spat, dry-heaved while the Rat held onto his waist to pump inside him until, through sliding and pushing, Viggo’s head was pressed against the bars and smacked against them. The sound was rattling. Worse was the chuckling from the enormous and overpowering Rat, who didn’t hesitate to smack the Wolf’s arm when he flailed them in an attempt to push Tholk away.

It only amused the Skaven, made him roar with laughter while he continued to pump, to hit… And finally, at the apex, to cum.

To cum into that tight, recently ruined and abused entrance. To stuff it with so much cum, Viggo felt like he was bloated… That he was about to puke that semen now bloating parts of him he didn’t know. Alas, until the Skaven pulled out, his enormous cock left but a crater of the Wolf’s modesty.

“Good! Good! Next breeding soon!” shouted Tholk, chuckling as he stepped out of the cell.

Leaving Viggo heaving, panting, gasping. His eyes were wide open, his pupils dilated. He’d been raped, taken, soiled. He couldn’t return to the order without being purged or even sent to the purgatorium.

He… Was marked. Marked by Chaos. And he felt its power inside his guts.

-

Viggo shuddered.

His back was pressed against the sole wall of his cage. It was the only position that was remotely comfortable, lying on his back with his legs spread. If he closed them, the pressure on his rim was terrible.

And if he was on his belly, his swollen guts hurt forevermore.

Instead… he was panting, dry-heaving while his furry fingers pressed against his guts. He… Was massaging them. It was something he didn’t learn, but guessed it helped as he squeezed against his maculated fur, pressed against the distended skin, and felt the… Cum inside.

Warm, steamy, sticky.

Then… As he pressed it, there was a first spurt of air, then the sound of a balloon deflating. A wet sound came from between the Wolf’s cheeks as he gritted his teeth.

“E-Endure,” he mumbled, his face burning.

Between his legs, his rim was unleashing a tide of cum. So much that had been pumped inside him by Tholk.

He… Constantly did that. Constantly stuffed Viggo until the Wolf looked gravid. That was the purpose. Each time, Tholk left by saying he was ‘Happy to make the bitch pregnant, yes yes’ while his beady eyes blinked one after another.

Viggo knew… Knew he looked like a mess. But worse had to be his asshole, as by gritting his teeth, he pushed his fingers down between his buttcheeks to have a feel. To touch, to explore. To sense his rim that was… Inflated. No. Swollen.

He pushed against the entrance, finding the muscles different from what might have been… It looked like.. It felt like a pastry, sticky and coated. But like one of those donuts in the capital.

And he frowned, then gulped.

THUNK!

Viggo pried his fingers away, but that was too late. The Skavens were there, chuckling and pointing fingers.

“Oh! New Whore heat? Good! Good!” said one Skaven.

Viggo? He turned his gaze away, though he desired to glare at them.

“I’m not,” he said, but his words didn’t carry the conviction he had before. He felt it. He’d started to feel it. The slight pleasure when Tholk pressed one spot in his ass. And the ache when he wasn’t there. It was faint, but the more he tried to chase that thought away, the more it returned.

It was like the Skavens.

The more he pushed back, the more they forced themselves onto him like those entering the cells. They had something green in their hands, fashioned from the Warpstone.

“Tholk gift whore! New gift for you,” said one Skaven, presenting a ring.

“A… Another piercing?” scoffed Viggo, looking away. It was probably like one of those rings adorning his swelling nipples, with the areola the size of a silver coin.

But no, the Rat chuckled. “For cocklet! Yes!”

“Cock… Let? WAIT! NO!” roared Viggo, screaming and kicking when the Rat jumped on him. There were too many; they were too strong for the exhausted Witch-Hunter.

When they were done, they left him battered and still squirting on the ground while the large cock-piercing was at the tip of his cock. It was like a token or an insult. A presence so vile, now attached to his pride and glory. To his manhood.

And it burned. It burned the tip, and that burn was slowly seeping inside him. He didn’t know the effect, but it could only be vile.

“I… Hate it.”

“Gift from me. Yes, yes! Very cute!” said Tholk, entering the cage.

Viggo snarled back at the Skaven, but he could feel his will weakening. No, even his rim clenched when he saw the naked Skaven with his low-hanging balls, and that flared, knotted cock pointing down.

It continuously dripped, leaving a trail whenever he was near Viggo… And the Wolf’s nose picked up the scent, his nostrils flaring as he turned away, his ears low.

They dropped flat when the Skaven crawled closer, a looming shadow covering everything… Hiding the Wolf while the Skaven sniffed.

“Hunter heat?”

“No. No heat,” grunted the Wolf as he smacked the Rat’s hand away.

But the hand returned. It grabbed Viggo’s hips, dragged him to the floor, then his lower body was lifted while his shoulders rested on the ground.

“Hey! Release me! At once!” he roared, kicking Tholk’s face. But Tholk didn’t care.

Even kicking, even hitting that face, the red-eyed Rat continued to approach his face from Viggo’s ass. His rancid breath was on the Wolf’s sphincter, making that pucker tense.

But then… The lips were pressed against it. And the tongue darted inside, planting like a fang in something.

Viggo’s eyes widened.

His mouth opened only for gravity to close it back. Saliva was starting to get in his nose while the stench of something different hit his chin.

Not the Rat’s juice. His own. His own precum had landed on his chin, coming from his half-hard cock slipping out from his sheath. He was half-hard… And it was from having that tongue playing with his ass.

“Emperor’s mercy… Saint Leopold… Maria the Saint,” mumbled Viggo, his paws against his face as he tried to summon the saints he could remember. Anyone, even Sigmar. Anyone… But that pleasure that was spreading through his groin, through his spine, through his skull as that tongue lashed onto that small part of his anatomy.

But they wouldn’t come. They wouldn’t release him.

Instead, Viggo endured and took. Viggo received what something vile was and yet so pleasant. He felt that tongue pressing against his prostate, a small organ inside his ass.

But one that was sensitive, pleasant, and definitely reacting without being crushed by a monster of a cock.

And through the Rat’s tongue prodding and pushing it, Viggo’s cock went from half-hard to fully hard. Even to have his knot slipping out of his sheath, hard and throbbing.

“Yesh! Yesh!” said Tholk, his tongue still inside as he gave the organ a fateful… poke.

It wasn’t bigger than most, or more intense.

But it was the poke that made the Witch-Hunter’s will crumble. That made his groin, primed like a keg of black powder, explode. The pleasure was intense.

The repercussions? His entire body shuddered while three shots of cum, the next lesser by the former, shot across the air. They landed on the wall. They landed on the ground. They landed on his face… And presently onto his chest.

But the deed was done as the Wolf’s breath resumed, and a whine escaped his lips.

He… Came. From the pleasure provided by a chaos spawn. No amount of inner purge or mantra could undo that mark.

Finally, the Wolf truly broke down into tears. Tears dripped over his face as the Rat continued to suck on his rim, to poke and caress his prostate.

It was warm, and good, and pleasant. It was everything the whores in the brothels could offer and more. It was both the salve soothing the soul and the very poison inside it.

It was the embrace of a lover and the overbearing presence of a monster.

Finally, Viggo’s hands reached for his face. For his dirty face… For his snot-filled mouth. For his jaw, he tried to force it closed despite the hiccups shaking him to his core.

Worse, as he forcefully shut his eyes, they burned. His face burned while he could feel another… Erection coming. Another orgasm approaching.

One coming from Tholk’s kisses.

“S-Stop,” hiccupped Viggo, his voice reduced to a pathetic mewling. “Please. Sigmar… Save me.”

Tholk’s tongue was relentless, pushing against the same button that had made Viggo ejaculate. This time around, the orgasm was less intense. But far more agonizing for the Wolf as it happened again.

It wasn’t a random occurrence. It was a reality; it was a fact. It was… His weakness.

His weakness at the single shot landed on his covered face, and he snorted, swallowing down the snot while his breathing was raspy and light.

It continued again… The Rat ceaselessly ate his ass until came a third ejaculation, weak. The weakest of all, while the Wolf’s cock, out of his sheath, burned hotter than before. The knot ached, so did the pierced tip. And the fire within was spreading as Tholk yanked his mouth and tongue away in a wet suction noise.

His face was coated in cum, his own cum. But it didn’t seem to matter much to the Skaven as he sniffed the air, dropped Viggo’s lower body, before he crawled closer to the gargling Wolf.

Viggo held his breath, his pupils dilated as he saw that face approaching. As he watched that Rat coming so close, ready to take him again, to crush his pride, to wound him… To wound everything he held dear.

He already imagined the fucking, the knot smacking against his rim in an umpteenth attempt to force through. But…

No. The Skaven licked his fingers, licked Viggo’s cum sticking to the face, and jumped back, grinning from ear to ear like a demon.

“Hunter squirted! Good! First Squirt! Good Squirt! Female soon!” shouted Tholk, with drool dripping from his lolling tongue. He looked… Elated.

A joyful monster compared to the shuddering and sick Witch-Hunter.

-

“Clean! Clean! Clean!” roared the Skaven.

It didn’t help much, though the Skaven’s cry was followed by more cold water being splashed against Viggo’s body. Against his plugged ass. Against his back.

The Wolf had his hands pressed against the wall, enduring the cold and the pain, while his new balance didn’t help.

“Turn! Face! Now! Now!” roared the Skaven.

Viggo trembled, but against his judgment, he turned.

The water splashed against his body, drenching his fur. The reflex was that all his muscles tensed as if to produce warmth. Down to his nipples perking up while his ballsack was pulled closer to his abdomen.

It didn’t help either when another bucket was splashed on his face before the Skaven snorted in satisfaction. “Good! Now dry! Tholk wants you!”

Dry.

As if the Wolf could dry himself faster if ordered to. Instead, he looked like a wet rag standing in what… Seemed to have a foreman lodging in the mine. The walls and ground were made of cobblestone. However, it was obviously Tholk's den.

His scent was sticking everywhere, even to the pile of fur and fabric used as a bed in a corner. The traces of his ejaculation could be seen, too, near one mirror. One of the many mirrors Tholk had in his room.

The same mirror that forced Viggo to see himself through them.

Instead of a vigorous Witch-Hunter, he noticed the curves. He noticed the absence of muscles, atrophied. He noticed the dropping shoulders… Then the fat accumulated on his chest and belly. The prominent ass… The perky dark nipples. And then… His genitals with the Warpstone ring wrapped around his testicles.

Worse, he had that piercing through his cocktip, though the sheath folds were almost concealing it.

Yet, the Warpstone was there, obviously a brand, a mark… An insult on the Wolf’s body as much as a sign of ownership. He grabbed one of those piercings, the one at his cocktip and pulled on it.

Yet, the moment he touched it, it felt as if an icy shard had pierced through his flesh. But once he released his grip? Soothing warmth. Soothing energy. Soothing touch upon his very genitals. He gulped, shuddering while the war dripped from his fur onto the floor.

“Wife ready? Yes, yes?”

Viggo’s eyes turned to the entrance, to the former threshold with the broken door, no lock to close it. Sure enough, Tholk was there wearing his armor but without his loincloth. He hadn’t bothered to put a new one on since he ripped it on their first night.

Here. Viggo sighed, turning to face the Skaven while trying not to be too bothered. Or not showing the weakness that was his cold shudders.

He faced Tholk ahead, his fists clenching while the Rat entered, sniffed the air… And his cock pointed down, with blood rushing inside it.

The organ was going lower, with the foreskin slowly peeled off, while the scent of sex and cum stuck to it. Even from another slave, he might have used a few minutes ago.

“Ouh! Wife big eye! That how? Big eye! Angry? Need pleasure?” asked Tholk.

His voice was snarky, and one hand was extended to explore Viggo’s body, to explore that chest. The Wolf smacked that hand, but another came right in and grabbed one nipple to twist it. Viggo almost cried, his jaw locking.

“Oh yes. Big nipple! Big big! Wife angry?”

“Unh-and me. Fiend,” mumbled the Witch Hunter.

But yes, his sizable bosom was… Pleasant to the touch. Even with a twist and pulled nipple, his breasts were warm. And their warmth was spreading inward while the pressure at the tip kept growing.

One pressure that was at the back of his mind, weighing, pushing, digging, heavy. It was everything Viggo hated about his situation, about the torture the Skaven inflicted on him. But as he closed his fists, he could only… Frown. His strength was drained, and they purposefully kept watch on him and removed any weapon he might find.

“Ohh… That how? Angry? Why? Because pup milk?”

“No!” replied Viggo with a snarl, one that instantly broke down when the Skaven’s digits twisted his nipple and the pressure unleashed. The tension, the weight, it was all leaving with a twist and a spray of milk onto the Skaven’s fingers. Milk Tholk licked before his beady eyes focused on Viggo’s face… As that muzzle was closer.

“Looks Wife enjoys this. Clitty drips.”

Viggo’s eyes widened, then he looked down. Indeed, his cock had started to slip out. Barely a nub out, not much. But it dripped and sprayed onto the ground as the Skaven approached, their shafts pressing together, rubbing, touching, and comparing. At that stage, with a half-chub, Viggo was only a quarter of the Skaven’s length.

Then, a hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to lift it, to twist his head, to face that tongue forcing its way inside. Cheap ale, rotten flesh, and something else.

It was poison, but the Wolf took it… Took that tongue forcing inside his mouth, tangling with his own, and pushing to reach his throat. He pushed back… But it was weak resistance.

Much like the weak resistance he offered when Tholk’s fingers grabbed his plump ass, taking one handful of that buttcheek to pull on it… To reveal the slightly gaping and swollen pucker.

And the Warpstone stuck inside it.

“Wife breed. Wife warm,” said Tholk, pulling back and pulling onto the Warpstone plug.

Viggo’s voice broke into a mewling, his knees pointing inward as his body shuddered from the cold stab at his guts. When the disgusting Stone was in, he could… He could endure the heat.

But once it was out? It was painful, so painful, so terrible. His asshole was a crater, a ruin. But once plugged, it didn’t hurt. Now that it was unplugged, it was hurting. The third stage.

“P-Put it back,” groaned Viggo, hearing the suction of his orifice before a loud pop resonated through the room, then the ‘ting’ of the Warpstone dropping to the floor before it rolled away.

“Why? Wife needs breed for pup,” said Tholk, his beady eyes blinking. “You refusing. You want not breed? You want refuse?”

The words ‘I refuse’ were at the Wolf’s lips, a refusal, a dismissal, anything. He’d be punished, he’d be fucked, he’d be abused, bruised. But his ego would be safe.

“Take… Me.”

Viggo’s face flared with shame.

Moreso when the Skaven grinned from ear to ear and grabbed the Wolf before throwing him on the pile of fur and rags.

Already rolling, the Wolf was ready to clutch onto the fabric, to hold and bite so his cries were muffled. He had his tail aside, and he had his legs clamped so he wouldn’t show weakness.

He was ready… No. He wasn’t.

He wasn’t ready for the surprise that was Tholk’s fingers plunging inside his asshole. He wasn’t ready for the surprise that was the Skaven fingering his asshole with a greasy substance, lubing it up. Nor was he ready for the touch on his swollen prostate, the gentle squeeze that made the Wolf gasp, tremble, and then shoot against his belly.

His eyes rolled, having reached an orgasm in a matter of seconds… And he drooled.

“Wife cunt warm. Good. Good. Want more?”

Viggo’s ears dropped, his traits dropped. It felt so good. So damn good. Why was it feeling so good, he asked himself. But his feet dug into the stack, his fingers clutched the fabrics and furs until his knuckles went white.

And… Even his tail wagged when he had another push onto his organ. Another orgasm.

It burned, it burned inside his groin and testicles, especially in contact with the Warpstone.

That corrupting influence was seeping into his body, altering it in response to his sensations.

The more he took, the more he submitted, the more his body was twisted along that will. If he continued to give in, he allowed himself to be corrupted…

He'd be like the other slaves.

“Again?” asked Tholk, his voice almost suave against the Wolf’s ears.

Again… Viggo nodded, without daring to utter a word. And… Another push.

Another orgasm, another shot through his mind, another burn inside his groin. He was giving in. He was allowing a disgusting Chaos Spawn to abuse him.

Then… As Tholk grabbed his sides, he forced Viggo to face him… To see the Rat whose four fingers were inside his ass, grazing his prostate.

He was submitting himself as a female with his legs spread and his arms over his head. His cock was half-hard and dripping over his belly, his testicles raised.

And the constant suction from his asshole was… Loud.

“Again?” asked Tholk, his face coming closer, his breath onto the Wolf’s face.

He nodded.

Viggo again nodded even though his mouth was taken, as his water-riddled fur was damp with sweat now, as he had another orgasm. Another shot, smaller than the others. One that felt much better than the former. And so on… He kept cumming, he kept cumming even though his testicles were aching, even though his urethra was burning like from an infection.

Even though his ejaculation was nothing but a few droplets.

Then… Tholk pulled his fingers back, stealing a moan from the Wolf before he had a cock presented to the entrance.

The flare easily went in with control and precision.

It pressed against Viggo’s prostate, throbbed against it, nudged it. It was warm, it was pleasant, it wasn’t overbearing. It wasn’t the abuse he’d been used to from the Skaven. It was calmer, more controlled. And yet, when he saw the malice in those red eyes, he knew it was done on purpose.

“Again?”

Viggo bit his lip. Acquiescing was giving up. But the throb against his organ, the push, the pressure that was almost promised.

He… Nodded again. And then threw his head back when the Rat’s flared cock pumped inside and crushed his organ.

His groin exploded, his cock shot… His entire body tensed, and his asshole closed on the wide cock as it slipped inside even further.

And so… The Skaven was inside him, making his belly bulge with that immense organ while more… More precum was pumped inside. Corruptive and fiendish. But warm.

“Again?”

“Yes.”

The answer was in a hoarse voice, followed by an even hoarser cry.

That cock pumped inside, reaching his depths until the knot was at the rim, bashing against the entrance and then pulling back. It was one hit, one firm hit… But one enough to rattle Viggo’s mind as his vision blurred and his ears rang.

“Again?” asked the same Skaven, his voice unctuous.

“Yes!”

Another cry. Another roar.

Another moment with the Wolf’s back arching, with his body exploding, with his ego and faith crumbling. He was collapsing under the Skaven, about to lose himself. He was losing himself; he was losing everything he was.

Was it terrible? Yes. Was it good? Obscenely. He wanted it again? “YES!”

Soon, his cries filled the room while his twitching legs cramped and then closed on the immense Rat’s waist. His fingers went white again from clutching the fabric and then clawing the Skaven’s powerful neck.

And before long, he had his mouth invaded again while that knot continued to smash and hit his sphincter. It wouldn’t end, it wouldn’t stop. It continued to smash and bash until the rim hurt.

But even then, it was nothing. Not a problem, only a source of more cries. More moans, more luscious whispers as that knot was starting to slip in. Only a thin portion, then a larger, wider, bigger. Soon, that knot reached the apex…

It was a moment, an end. If it went in… it would be over; he would break; he would be broken. He wouldn’t ever recover from this.

But as it pressed against his rim. “MORE! GIVE ME MORE!”

Viggo’s voice came out shrill and intense, his fingers digging before he froze, stopped… And smiled. Smiled when that knot was inside and his belly swelling with cum, with Skaven pups.

“Yes. Yes… Yes.”

-

Tholk’s tongue was relentless.

It kept pushing and prodding, playing with Viggo’s tongue before often overpowering it. Then… When he was done, he would pull back to give Viggo a moment to breathe.

The Wolf snorted, then had a smile pressed on his red-painted lips, despite the make-up dripping on his chin, much like that ‘mascara’ that had been pilfered somewhere.

He smiled wholly at Tholk as he grabbed the silky bra and pulled it down. The fabric, thinned from a thousand cuts, finally gave out. With a ‘riiip’ then a ‘snap’, the lace broke apart, and then the red-died bra dropped from Viggo’s body, allowing his plump and lactating breasts to drop, to sag… And then to land in Tholk’s hand.

“Bad fabric for Wife! Another! Better!” roared the Skaven, turning his head to the right, at one of his subordinates while smashing the remnant of the throne’s armrest.

“Yes! Order! Answer! Better!” replied the scurrying Skaven, his beady eyes turned low.

Then… Tholk’s face returned to Viggo’s breasts, to those jugs he lifted, played with… before he locked his lips onto one erect and Warpstone-pierced nipple.

The ring was bigger than the first ones, so heavy that it pulled on the flesh. But it mattered little as Tholk began to suck and lick, eking out a jet of milk. Milk he licked, slurped, sucked onto the nipple, burned, and was raw.

But Viggo only smiled and moaned… His lips curled into a stupid grin while his Master and Husband kept sucking and getting more milk out of him.

At the same time, Tholk’s raw fingers explored the green brands onto the skin, with Warpstone rubbed against the seared flesh before it healed. They were clan signs at first. But Tholk’s name was also carved on the Wolf’s buttocks, the same buttocks that were spread apart to reveal the slightly green glow around the Wolf’s asshole.

A few piercings, a few rubbings. Just enough of the word ‘Tholk’ to be clearly written and visible even in the dark. Even in the darkened Throne room, they were at.

It used to be a villa for royalty or someone important.

Viggo didn’t care much as he slipped his hands under his breasts to help Tholk suck on each of them while the fingers and claws inched closer to his rim. To his tender asshole that was forming a nice donut. One the Rat pulled on before the rim opened, revealing the flesh of the same glowing color with a slick and sticky liquid dripping from it.

Warpstone corruption… Fourth stage. One rarely told about. But once the Corruption had rooted itself deep, the insides gained a green glow, while the mind’s desires twisted them.

A desire obvious when Viggo’s fingers touched the underside of his breasts and pressed against his belly, against the distended flesh. No chiseled muscles, no thin waist. Only a gravid belly, with a popped-out navel and a Warpstone ring through it.

More runes had been engraved on it: of fertility, of abundance, of submission.

The result was obvious when a mere caress was enough to elicit a few kicks from within, the Skavens almost ready to leave Viggo’s womb and to conquer in the Clan’s name.

His face? He beamed with joy and satisfaction as he felt them, while Tholk tugged at his sphincter, exposing the glowing green inside.

Then, with that strength, Viggo was forced to gyrate on the lap, to have his tail pressed against the Rat’s belly, to feel that cock thrum against his backside while his eyes met with others.

Dozen. Maybe less, maybe more. A few powdered faces, but many were familiar.

“… Hi,” he said with a stupid grin as he saw their eyes focusing on him.

They watched his wide hips spread open, allowing Tholk’s flare to pump inside with ease once he was dropped on that shaft.

They watched the Wolf’s pathetic cocklet barely peeking from the sheath and no thanks to the Warpstone piercing at the tip. The watery drips were all Viggo’s manhood could muster as he had his lovely wife-spot crushed by Tholk’s enormous cock.

It felt good… Good when his abdominal muscles pulled on his testicles, forcing them to press against the Warpstone ring, strangling them until it felt good and they felt numb.

He smiled as it happened again, thanks to his prostate being squeezed and crushed.

Then, with his idle hand, Viggo reached for one breast. The pressure inside was already overbearing before he gave the organ a few squeezes… And a white jet went ahead, spraying a muzzled and bound rooster on his knees.

“Hehe,” chuckled Viggo, his eyes unfocused while Tholk’s cock continued to pump inside, hitting his guts from within, like gut punches that were seen through.

It was obscene and absurd. It was overbearing. It was brutal.

And yet, Viggo stroked his belly with a loving smile… Before his eyes snapped up at the crowd, at the eyes focusing on him: angry, bewildered, stunned.

“What them?” he asked, his speech slurring and his tongue heavy in his mouth.

“New slaves! Wifey cunt too wide! New cunt break!”

“Ohhhh,” replied Viggo, though he couldn’t deny it. His asshole was so wide now… He could take Tholk without even thinking about it. Which was good, but not so good for his Master who wanted tight holes.

Then, the Wolf was guided into another kiss. One in which the Wolf sucked the Skaven’s tongue while one hand grabbed his cock and twisted it until the Wolf yelped… And moaned, cumming again.

“Oh… Husband smart,” mumbled Viggo, his eyes rolling. “Where taken?”

“Hunters. Came to save someone. Viggo. No Viggo here. Only wife, hehe,” replied the Skaven, licking Viggo’s neck and then ear.

“Oh… Yes. Yes. Yes Yes,” replied Viggo, his hands on his breasts as he looked at the eyes.

Maybe he’d seen them before, but they were not slaves. They didn’t have breasts to feed pups, bellies full of them… And those cocks? They were nothing like Skavens’ improved cocks. Too small. He chuckled.

“What funny?” asked Tholk.

“Tiny clit,” chuckled Viggo, shaking his head. “Hunter tiny clit.”

“Yes yes. Witch Hunter tiny clit. Hunter better wife. Right? Right?”

“Yes,” replied Vigoo as he looked at the Rooster huffing and trying to shake his head.

Then… Tholk hit his prostate again, made him shudder, smile, almost shoot all over himself… Then. A pause. A break. A moment as Viggo stroked his belly.

“Husband?”

“Yes, Wife?” asked Tholk, taking his breath while his cum was pumped inside, warm, burning, aching, loving.

“Can Husband keep them as wife. Look funny at me. Want to see how long.”

“Yes yes. Anything for wife,” rumbled the Skaven, his eyes boggling as he stroked that belly, full of kicking, angry, and energetic pups. The next generation of Clan leaders.