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Ryoga tugged at his silk cape as the toe of his knee-high boot struck at the floor in continued annoyance. A female fennec servant spread out the wrinkles of his broad ceiling-high parchment calendar, and when she bent over, tail up, Ryoga salivated at the tight pucker of her tailhole and the lush, velvety folds of her cunt.

"It's a symbol I don't recognize, Your Highness, but seeing as it takes up the next few weeks, I can only imagine a most important engagement."

Her words rolled off his ears like water off an otter's back. He reached to a side-table where a pair of opera glasses lay, but the lioness Sylvia put her boot on his paw.

"You can easily see the calendar from here, my Prince," she tutted, and then waved a paw at the servant girl. "You've done well, Ka'Ou'Ra; you're dismissed!"

The servant girl turned, saw the comedy at hand, and went red in her broad ears. She giggled, then strode forward, breasts swaying and alternating with the sashay of her hips.

The fennec drew up to the high Wolf Prince and bent over him salaciously, dangling her full breasts before him as she kissed his extended paw. "Thank you kindly for your attention."

Ryoga's head thumped; he felt his cape grow wet under the provocative tent his loins had thrust into the rich fabric. "You distract me. You may distract me later when I am fully satisfied with our arduous mission. Away with you now."

The fennec bowed, and before she left Ryoga slipped out from under Sylvia's boot and gave her naked rump a resounding smack. She squealed in delight, clopping out of the room in thigh high boots that all but demanded the wolf pounce and take her against whatever surface they landed on.

"Goddess bless you, Ryoga; you've been more lusty than usual," Sylvia observed. "Do you truly dread the mission at paw?"

The wolf slammed his fist atop the side table, upsetting the opera glasses and flinging them to the floor where they shattered. His lips pulled against a salvo of wolf teeth that gleamed in the blazing torch light. "Any fool who does not heed the gravity of this situation is a feral lout. How are you so calm?"

The lioness bent over him, pulling back his cape to stroke at his chest. "Because I've full confidence in our Crown Prince of Jahaliya."

Ryoga pulled her paws down into the folds of his cape. They readily found their target; the lioness stroked the wolf's rigid length with deliriously soft paws. "It's war if we fail," he said, hips thrusting into her fists, "a great number of bodies to return to our weeping Goddess as She deliberates Her faith in us."

Sylvia's paw pushed the lip of his sheath down around the base of his knot. His rhythm was insistent, final, as if to breed. "Cetaes needs our intervention," she said, peeling his cape away so he could fuck her paws in the open, "but I can't help but feel that the Poacher Queen's ultimate reason is to draw us out."

"I'll collar and leash her," Ryoga growled, precum bubbling out over Sylvia's knuckles, "and parade her through the entire kingdom. Goddess restrain me that I don't put that bitch down like a rabid dog."

"Patience, Your Highness," she insisted, fondling his balls as they drew against his pelvis, "Goddess will handle her once you've done your part. The season of whaling is almost at paw in Myscindrya. The Poacher Queen will come, her armies decked in the pelts of their slaughtered foes, and we with your Harem will support the Cetans against this menace."

Ryoga bucked, his breath coming in short gasps through gritted teeth. "We've already apprehended one too many 'passenger vessels' idling around the Myscindrya/Cetaes bay. Recon report ships from PQ, no doubt, but their crews aren't talking. Ah!" he barked, thrusting his hips upward as gossamer strands of pearlescent wolf cum shot into the air, sparkling in the torch light before coiling and splattering on Sylvia's arm, Ryoga's groin, and even a bit on the silver and alabaster wolf's nose.

"Very good," Sylvia said, lapping bouncy strands from between her fingers. "Now we can focus on the task at hand."

***

Majordomo mouse, John of Jahaliya, thumbed an embossed invitation card as he marched to the port. He saw many other genial cards in the paws of the Harem, of the leading Generals, of Sarge and Brohan, but this one was larger. Florid. Perfumed with both flora and the female musk of the inviting fauna, signed in black splattered ink by the very claw of Governess Cyndra. She'd damned near torn through the card, which told of her excitement.

John put the specific, explicit invitation into his satchel as he marched down the airship's gangway into Myscindrya, where the great port before him spread out with the noise of industry and misted with the sweet, salty breeze of the sea breaking against the shore and many great boulders.

By instinct or perhaps by duty, John gravitated to their mage Lydra, who was perched at the end of an exceedingly long metal dock where grand caravels and schooners banged against their moorings. The panther manipulated a moist breeze to cascade over John's broad chest, and she giggled as he returned with a kiss.

Ryoga watched the hunk of a mouse from afar, official scrolls of port blueprints and trade reports fluttering between his fingers. The excellent, buxom rabbit General Athena was with him, standing faithfully beside him with her bronze brush helmet secured safely under her arm. His Harem stood dutifully behind them. Ryoga snapped the parchments straight and handed them back to the foreman, a beaver named Sawchuck, who had an amusing pot belly and whistled when he talked through his buck teeth.

"You've really built a case for defending this port," the Prince said with coy appraisal, looking over the harbor's piers, the enormous cargo ships, and towering loading cranes. "These impressive designs speak not only of your innovation but the need to defend our industry from those blathering savages. You've built all this; now we need to defend it. A terrible task you've lay before me."

Sawchuck batted a webbed paw, but then remembered himself and took his tortoise shell hard hat off, genuflecting before the Prince. "It's my great honor, Sire. Maybe one day we can prosper trading goods instead of wounds. Come with me," he beckoned, "we've gutted this place from the belly up to ensure a clean, economic machine."

Sawchuck led Ryoga and Athena on a tour of the various facilities, of multiple stories-high buildings constructed not only to strict, efficient standards of industry, but with a certain flash of stylistic Jahaliyan sensibilities: Jahaliya had it, and they would flaunt it through gleaming sexualized statues of the Harem sluts stationed at their entrances, their courtyards, and their roofs. There was some for the ladies as well: the crown piece (aside from flattering statues of Ryoga and his fantastic undercarriage, tight in one place and rigid in the other) was debatably a statue in the library of Horace the bear at full staff. His bronze cock, and this was tested by a gang of juveniles, easily held twelve rapscallions hanging from the tip.

"I don't remember establishing a second Jahaliya," Ryoga joked. "But this is all exemplary work. I'd conquer it over plagiarism did I not already own it."

"You flatter me again, m'Sire," Sawchuck said, doffing his helmet for perhaps the twelfth time as they'd been walking, "Let's just blame the Goddess' Blessing and be done with it."

Athena laughed, flashing her buck teeth with a saucy grin. "It's Her and our genius, I promise," she said, "All donations by Amazon artisans: statuary is our specialty, and our inspiration is a pleasure to us."

"So over here, here, and pardon me, your lapine military excellence, if I could get past your ears, way over yonder we've got hidden underwater entrances for Cetans to get into our facilities, easy interactions with Jahaliya. That building over there's half-submerged for a reason, and no the foundation didn't fall out: that there's our Cetan Embassy between those scary guard towers. There you all can diploma-cize with the seals, sea lions n' the like while being guarded from possible aerial assaults in the event of intrusions."

Ryoga nodded approvingly, but before he could remark his eyes were caught by a silver and alabaster whip of a building, a grand arch that lashed back to the land like a giant tentacle.

"That's your penthouse, there, Sire," the beaver said, "plenty of glass windows, open nest beds, and wide rooms so you can really put that Goddess' Blessing to the test."

Ryoga frowned, twisting his paws into fists and his arms into cables. "I'll not have you prying into my sexual escapades, you concrete-caked pervert!" he said, watching as the beaver flattened, cowering before him. Ryoga then grinned. "I'll have you join us proper; I have this wonderful fennec servant you might want to mount."

Sawchuck recovered, stumbling to get both footpaws under him. "Not if you give me a heart attack first, Your Majesty. Save those tricks for the foxes and coyotes!"

They all laughed, and Sawchuck led them to the crown jewel of his tour.

"Now this here's come from a discretionary fund after we built all the other stuff way under-budget thanks to them genius big-titty Amazon sluts. Whatcha think?" he asked, thrusting a paw out to a submerged stadium in a cove, a colossal bubble made of glass peeking over the cerulean waters that flowed around it.

"I don't know what it is," Ryoga said. "Is this King Shamon's personal penthouse? It's certainly bigger than mine."

Sawchuck laughed, feeling more at ease with the Prince. He elbowed the high royal Prince in the stomach, gently, then sauntered forward with his tool belt sashaying around his generous hips. "I'll build you one three times the size if you are inclined, but no, this is something more fun than simple defence, commerce, housing, all that: this is a special underground viewing auditorium, and that glass bubble extends to the underside as a big viewing window so you can see the underwater alcove below and Cetans can look in at any underwater reverie."

"Ah, the pleasure after business, my penthouse excepted," Ryoga chuckled. Athena leaned against him, kneading his arm.

"Not just pleasure!" the beaver objected, "but unity. How better to understand another culture than by indulging in their art? 'Scuse me if I'm getting philosophical here, but I think sharing of each others' spiritual expressions through art can bring truly disparate peoples together. You can have your alliance through lip-service, but why not understand what really makes these rubber-skin mammals tick?"

Ryoga's eyebrows rose, impressed. What a grand view of architecture, he thought, but before he could speak, Athena interrupted.

"'Rubber-skin,' isn't that a bit harsh?" she asked.

Sawchuck shrugged. "Rubber's a good material, and those sea mammals need to handle harsh waters."

"Fair enough."

Ryoga's eyes glinted at her. "That separatist mentality is what started our tiff with your nation."

Athena bowed. "Deepest apologies."

"See? My project is already raising good conversation!" Sawchuck cheered. "And speaking of, there's also a luxuriant sealed-off portion, though seals are allowed, excuse the pun, with its own built-in dock for water arrivals and water escapes with max security. It's your safe house away from home!"

The Prince nodded approvingly. "How have I not heard of you before?"

Sawchuck smiled, adjusting his helmet. "I just haven't had this sorta opportunity before to make my work mean more than the simply practical."

"Well it's genius. All of it," Ryoga gleamed, "I'll have you working at the capital when we've quashed the Poacher Queen once and for all! And we will quash her, make no bets against that," he said, angling a pretty black claw at the beaver's snout. "I've heard tell from my Sluts of grand uses of steel, and of a building concept called 'skyscrapers.' A hundred storeys tall; could you imagine?"

Sawchuck sputtered. "Out of sword metal? Those things are of legend, m'Sire, but I'll look into it if you want to look down on gryphons and winged centaurs. It'll have to be built back in Jahaliya; Governess Cyndra will throw a royal fit if it exceeds that fuck-balcony of hers. It's gotta overhang all the port; no exceptions."

"Very good. What else does this glass auditorium offer?"

"What else? Oh, you tan my hide, Highness ... now these are my personal fantasies hopefully to become professional, but your bow-mistress, Natalya..."

"Natasha."

"Natasha could use the stage platform to dance in the open, oh her exquisite grace, and be framed by sea mammals jumping all around."

"That is an insecurity held by many ground-walkers against the bats and the dolphins, who defy gravity at will."

"But why let it be an insecurity? Ground-walkers, especially wonderful bunnies like Natasha, perform peerless acts of grace despite the disadvantage of groundedness! Strong shoulders, too."

"You're an optimistic sort."

"Well how else would I make your penthouse and this auditorium?"

Natasha, having silently followed Ryoga along with the rest of his Harem, finally spoke up. "Your faith in me is flattering, Sire; I'll do my best."

Ryoga turned to her with a smile. "There's my good girl."

Natasha giggled as she curtsied, her lavish breasts dangling free as she bent down, one boot behind the other.

Sawchuck sputtered, blushing as his own length sprung out below his toolbelt. He took off his helmet and wiped his brow. "Phew! I'm sure she'll do more than well. Goddess, you got a beautiful platoon, Highness."

Ryoga grinned and tapped the pudgy beaver's pink tip as he walked past him. "A blessing of the Goddess I've always loved. Tell me, your hardness, have you built any bridges in your career?"

Sawchuck saw his mind split between the delicious feminine curves of General Athena and the Harem and Ryoga's firm, muscular form. "Ah, ahem, well, just a few river crossin's.

Ryoga saw the male's confusion as he drank in all their sexual forms. His eyes twinkled when the beaver's musk tickled his nose. "I'm sure you could span the Cetaes kingdom with a few months and some healthy Jahaliya loving. This masterpiece auditorium is proof positive."

"J-jahaliya loving?"

Ryoga waved a paw. "In due time. One does not feast before a battle. So then. How's Myscindrya settling in with their thrallship unto Jahaliya?"

Sawchuck pulled his tool belt up under his gut, making his erection bounce. "Just fine, overall, albeit with a few bickerings and scuffles between them warrior women and yours. Funny enough, they've built the surrounding walls around pure Myscindrya higher, but before I could ask Governess Cyndra herself assured me that this wasn't to keep unwanted males out and wanted males in.

"If you're in the mood for puns, this is a good 'un. They actually have a 'male-slot' near the main door, a glorified glory hole, and rumor says that males can get straight admission if they stick their phalluses through and a waitin' female likes what she sees ... or tastes. Then the whole door swings open." The beaver got a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I'll tell you. Mine can't break down said doors or anything, but they've teased me on a number of occasions. A thirsty bunch!"

Ryoga laughed, a bark of gay triumph. "Magnificent! All in Goddess' good taste."

"There's a weird exception, however."

"Yes?"

"There's one guy they refuse to talk about, and of course that means everyone talks around the subject, as if playing a game of horseshoes where you can't hit the pole. You got a mouse fire-mage?"

Ryoga's expression cooled, and as the group scaled a winding pathway to exit the auditorium's cove, the wolf's cape flapping as they emerged into the wind above ground, he spoke in a softer, more graven voice. "I know exactly what you mean and what for. They tortured my poor John. It was by virtue of the Goddess' Blessing he made it out alive; although the trauma still lingers."

"They whisper about him non-stop."

"Either by lust or by guilt, or assuredly a combination of the two," Ryoga said, cresting the top of the coastal cliffside to view the entirety of his thrallship. There was John far off in the distance, hidden at the edge of a pier where he and Lydra played cards behind a rack of cannons and cargo. "I'm surprised he agreed to come at all."

"He's here for a reason."

"Obviously," he said, and that was that. Ryoga dismissed Sawchuck and opted to watch Myscindrya from the crown of the hill, his thumb firmly hooked over his sword belt as his fur and the rest of him blew in the salty sea breeze.

A bat appeared in the skyline, then paused in its flight path as it spotted Ryoga. The winged creature, bearing the harness and heraldry of Jahaliya, flew to them, and then Bryce "Horatio" landed before his Prince with a quick bow and trusty salute, his brass horn and a couple of scrolls tucked under his wing..

"Report from the local garrison leader, Sire," he said, then with a wave of Ryoga's paw proceeded in quick succession with his report, snapping the scroll open like he was splitting a melon in half. "Troops settling in well, despite the theatrical display where we 'sunk' their ships to hide them in the underwater barracks. Cetans and Amazon water-mage Eye-Jiss, oops, Ees, spelled Eye Jay Ess, perfectly handled the smuggling of crew, passengers, and equipment to port."

Bryce flipped his scrolls, setting his horn bell-first down on the grass. "And also, Ijs has developed a ramming harness for King Shamon's sperm whale troopers. She's quite proud of it, you can tell by the messy cursive, and she's also designed utility harnesses for the seals and sea lions so they can properly outfit the whales and replace them on the fly. Rather, the swim."

Bryce licked his wing fingers and flipped again, glancing up at Ryoga once to find his attention completely rapt. A few of the Harem Sluts behind him were scratching their heads. "Neat little tidbit about the ramming harnesses; Ijs put a special blob of enchanted water at the crown of the headpiece. It has neutral buoyancy and it'll not only negate damage to the whales' noggins, but it'll ensure their squishy foreheads don't negate the impact. Guarantees full damage, hard as a rock. And that's it, Your Majesty"

The bat looked up at the Prince, but his eyes stopped halfway at a pulsing wolf-cock at full mast. "You're pleased, then?"

"Very," his fangs gleamed. "You're dismissed."

"And that's what they call hard science," Sylvia whispered to General Athena, who spluttered with a giggle.

Ryoga led them back to the city.

***

John waited outside the great doors to the city, Lydra reassuringly squeezing his shoulder under his broad copper pauldrons. The muscular mouse fiddled with the pommel of his sword, his other paw scratching beside his heavy brown balls a number of times. Finally, an Amazon guard arrived in a relatively modest metal bra and bikini with an invitation--odd for them to be wearing clothes--and escaped as soon as he took it from her outstretched paw.

The mouse contemplated the envelope, flicking its wax-sealed flap a few times, turning it over much longer than was needed.

"You're nervous, John," Lydra said, staying his paws, "Why? You were magnificent during the reconciliation orgy. That torture must have done you in."

John knew the content of the letter, and he opened it to confirm it. "I was with friends during that orgy. Good distractions from those recovering man-eaters, who still seem infatuated with me. I know I'm good, but this attention is strange. They want me there, alone," he said, flourishing the letter before the wind-mage. "right in the middle of them."

"But Goddess made you like the experience! If for a spell."

"Yes, but the memories still sting."

"You there, missie!" Lydra called, sending a small gust out to ruffle a patrolling guardsman otter's fur. The busty brunette turned to them, also armored to cover her erogenous zones, and Lydra stole the letter from John to flap it at her. "I don't think this seems fair; didn't your mage whip him into cumming lava? I should come too."

The otter marched up to them, inspected the letter, saw Cyndra's hurried, passionate cursive, and shrugged. She opened her mouth for an affirmative "no," but her speech seemed to tumble, like her eyes, over the athletic molding of the panthress mage's naked body.

"I, ah, nothing I can do, m-marm. This is an executive order. Invite's for the fire-god, I mean fire-mage, alone."

Lydra jumped between him and the guard, seizing him by his heavy pauldrons. "John, you don't have to do this!" Lydra said in a surge of fury, "have Ryoga order the invitation amended!"

John shook his head and brushed her paws off like a couple of leaves. "I have to solve this alone. Goddess will protect me. Go accompany our Prince; he seems to have a free pass of the land."

Lydra groaned, throwing her paws into the air as she muttered, "Male pride." She walked off in the direction of the pier, where an iconic red cape lead a great procession like a twinkling star in the sky.

***

John came to Myscindyr Castle accompanied by two cat guards seemingly selected for the overwhelming swell of their breasts and hips. They escorted him through a queer, underground pathway paved with liquefied pearls and lit by glowing wall-mounted orbs. This path opened up into an underwater, glass-lined tunnel that thrust through the bottom of the bay, sharks and fish frolicking at every angle around him.

John emerged into a brilliant granite and glass anteroom, where his nose immediately fixated upon an exquisite cheese, crackers, and grape buffet at the back. Preventing his view of this mouth-watering endeavor, however, thrust a marble water fountain carved as an enormous erect cock and balls. It would look exactingly similarly to his own phallus were it not boarded up inside his frightened sheath.

Here, the modest Myscindryan raiments were not to be seen, and John caught with his ear a set of confident paw-falls of cats striding towards him. "What is all this?" he demanded as his torturer, the jaguar ice-mage Ijs, slinked towards him accompanied by a cadre of Amazon women displaying themselves in all sorts of slavishly lewd dress.

Lift and separate, indeed.

"The Governess can explain," Ijs said with a flip of her paw, tossing a puff of snow into the air, "I'm here just as you, requested with little notice."

It was a wonderful sight, all these ardent females posing, displaying, and splaying themselves for his pleasure and hopefully his mating, but John couldn't redoubt his reluctant arousal for the compulsion that drove him, like a leaf in a stream, towards the Governess' chambers.

Cyndra, massive Cyndra, wonderful Cyndra, towered over him a good two feet when she blasted the doors of her bedchamber open and stood before him nude framed by a lush cape, her heavy breasts hovering at his eyes' level, nipples large as his balls.

John felt his arousal break through. Nude as a Jahaliyan, he let it grow.

"Lord John, oh Blessed One," her voice boomed, "would you fuck my tits?"

It was carnal, crass, and straight to the point: she spoke simply and perfectly. His cock responded in kind.

"I..." he started, but the females around him started to mewl at the wonderful lewd display swelling up between his hips. He was at full mast instantly and his pelvis felt the painful weight of a hefty blessed erection. "Yeah, let's fuck."

The caped mouse tackled her and the giantess caught his smaller frame. She carried him backwards to her bed on the fuck-balcony and roared as he attacked her chest. He was thrusting between them before she'd lay down.

John, for a sober moment, fought against his insatiable lust, but each thrust between her generous breasts shivered his puritan resolve and he easily accelerated. Coos from voyeuristic servants behind him beckoned him on, their attention assuredly fixed on his muscular buns flexing with each plunge.

"Yes, thrust your cock hard!" she bellowed. Ryoga, far below on a distant Myscindyr boardwalk, grinned and looked up at Cyndra's fuck-balcony.

"Go get 'er, champ," he whispered.

The whole kingdom seemed to participate; a number of whales and sea lions broke the bay's surface for the bombastic passion overhead.

Eventually, John could not stand the slick, tight wetness his cock had created between the Governess' massive mounds, and he howled in delirious triumph as his cock spewed into Cyndra's face, throwing ropes of tender semen all over the giant snow leopard's whiskers and face.

John squeezed her tits as his cock splattered everywhere above them, giving one final thrust with a sated grin. His buck teeth gleamed in the moonlight. He nearly cheered for joy, like the cheer Ryoga gave him this morning when they first arrived, but then he saw Cyndra's cum-spackled face fixed in an expression of chained stoicism, not lusty indulgence.

Throwing one shaky leg over her as he dismounted the Governess, a cum-string stretching before breaking between them, the Majordomo wiped himself off as best he could, quaking in his boots from such a lovely orgasm. Sobering up, he reached to clean the snow leopard's face, but she bat him away with a massive paw.

"Is anything wrong, Your Thrallship?" he asked. The Amazons behind him seemed to hold the same stoic impression even though their labia gleamed with moisture and their nipples stood erect.

"I'm not sure if She's spoken to you about this," droned Cyndra as she sat up, "but Goddess does not share the same satisfaction Our Lordship Ryoga does with our penance. Thus, I present our Ordained Geas; She's demanded that you come, alone. You are the way to our salvation."

"Me?!" the mouse sputtered, his boots clacking as he reeled, "Well, then, fine! I forgive you! Goddess Bless you, and goodnight."

John bowed and then turned to leave.

"It's not that simple, Lordship," she said, "I daresay Goddess has burdened us with Jahaliyan luxuries, ones we cannot sustain."

John stopped, and nodded gently to an Amazon that brought him his cape. She then reached down for his cock, purring lewdly as she fell to her knees. Cyndra bellowed, "Enough!" and the young slut scampered away.

"I beg pardon, but 'burdened with luxury?'"

"Precisely," Cyndra said, rising with cum still bouncing from her whiskers, "Outside and on duty, our Amazon are firm and disciplined warriors. But inside, they turn into buxom sluts and prowl the city, yearning for thick hard cock."

"That sounds fine."

"It's a debt that will repossess everything if you personally are left unpaid. She has conveyed Her displeasure and our everything--strength, dignity, sexual pleasure--shall be taken unless we degrade ourselves in front of you, totally, for a revenge you must claim."

John pulled at the gold chain connecting the collar of his cape. He looked out to the moonlit port, the waves softly undulating in its pearly light, and felt his heavy cock swing between his legs as he closed the gap to Cyndra, who knelt and beckoned him in.

"We bear the shame of our sins," the snow leopard said. Even on her knees, she was still taller than the stocky mouse, a grand woman to be sure. "We submit to our humiliation as we beg your forgiveness, vile cunts dreaming of absolution. Will you inflict your lust, vengeance, and satisfaction either with your thick pulsing cock or the back of your paw?"

John warily took a few steps back, paw wrestling with the chain of his cape. He turned to escape, but the gate was blocked by an array of females kneeling away from him, their faces pressed to the ground as they held their asses high in a grotesque display of sexual submission.

The mouse whirled back to Cyndra, who had prostrated herself the same but at least faced forwards. Through his annoyance John asked, "Are you sure it's Goddess that's ordered you so? I don't understand!"

Cyndra crawled towards him, the great woman reduced to a writhing, furry wretch, opening her mouth when it was within range of his cock. Tears flowed down her face, and her barbed tongue stretched out to lift his pulsing glans.

"No!" he shouted, and reeled backwards into a line of rumps where he crashed and tumbled against all acreages of warm backside. His nose banged against a wet velvety flower and was drenched in its sweet musk.

The mouse stumbled as he stood, stepping on a few ankles and tails, deliberately ignoring the penitent yelps their owners issued. He righted himself and wiped his nose on his cape before he threw it behind him, his own tail lashing anxiously. "I can't do this. Stop this, all of you! If Goddess so ordains, She can talk to me. I forgive you, I do! While I didn't like what you did to me, Goddess at that time made the torture bearable. This is all unnecessary, and by the way, will you please stand up?

Cyndra flinched; her arms fumbled against the ground as if a colossus's foot held her in place. John's eyes lit with fire.

"Now, damn you!"

The snow leopard struggled but rose, her jaw set in stone as she dared tower once more above the aggrieved party. Surely, Goddess would strike her down with lightning.

Cyndra shivered and her tears trickled once more. "We have no choice," she said, "and if your revenge is to see our nation dry up, so be it. As you to your home, we'll go to our perdition."

John, however, felt many doubts gnaw at him. The mouse looked to the bay: the coast was pure and gay like a good orgasm. "All right," he grumbled, hearing the females behind him rise as well. "Let's consult some disinterested opinions to find a reasonable compromise."

The mouse pinched his claws between his teeth and blew a shrill whistle of distinctive tone. With the quiet beat of wings, Horatio soon appeared and squeaked with astonishment as the females, again, prostrated themselves to a Jahaliyan. "Will you quit that?!" John shouted before turning to the bat, "Nevermind them; get Sylvia and Lydra. You see the problem here," he whispered as he piloted Horatio's chin.

"Is this a problem?" Horatio asked, his cock spooling out.

"You haven't heard them talk. Now take off!"

The thumping gust blew John's fur and cape, then their herald was gone. The Amazons remained in their humiliating genuflections. All the mouse could do was take post on Cyndra's vast fuck-bed and watch the glints of dolphins gleaming as they played.

***

"Goddess Bless!" the lioness and panthress exclaimed as they emerged to the same outrageous display. All hind ends were turned to them this time, with John struggling not to cringe at the occasional miserable face that wasn't planted against the stone. John reclined on the cushions, his boots crossed at the ankles.

"John, dear, this isn't your doing, is it?!" Sylvia implored.

"It's the 'Goddess' Will,'" he sighed, his face displeased and his sheath most chaste.

"We cannot further risk Her displeasure," Cyndra said, not daring to lift her chin.

"I couldn't see this being Her Will," Lydra ventured.

John shrugged. "But there is the chance it is. I had time to think while you were coming." He raised his voice to his captive audience, "And I've a better idea. If there is Wrath to be borne, I'll shoulder the burden. I have favor with the Goddess; I can take it far better than you can."

"You're too noble!" Cyndra begged, "You've had enough!"

"Please," John grinned, rubbing his fingers together as he lay back in the luxuriant fabric, "I'm just getting started."

***

The next morning, Ryoga stood at the cliffside with a pair of binoculars. The coast rumbled with land and sea warriors braced for the battle ahead: Cetans treaded the deep waters while a line of fast launches loaded Jahaliyan and Amazon warriors. Bowmistress Natasha rode the wolftaur Tarreg high above; Horatio hovered ready with his horn.

"Intel suggests they're ignorant of our bolstered defenses," Athena bellowed from the pier. Her voice reached her Prince, clean and clear. "So bearing caution in mind, a simple forward attack while others surround the whalers' hunting launches should be fine. If you see a ship with mounted harpoon launchers, that's first priority. Scuttle or seize them."

A roar met her orders, and then Horatio's horn blew overhead. With that, the attack force moved out. Together for around an hour, the Cetans and the fleet sailed out until the enemy ships were in sight and Corsi dove overboard for the battle ahead.

High above riding Tarreg,, Natasha's own binoculars caught the lead vessels behind the smaller launches, everything coming into range at a steady pace. On a ship near the front stood a shapely female with a flapping cape framing her naked buxom body, she raising her hand calmly to signal. The Poacher Queen had sent one of her own officers to rake in this haul.

Ryoga gritted his teeth. "What are you planning, you bitch?"

On the waterfront, hanging from one of the Jahaliya launches, Corsi spotted something bizarre drop from the bow of the main ship: a small cylinder, hardly larger than her thigh, plummeted into the water while trailed by a fine wire. The crewmate on the other end of this contraption hit a button, and the device opened up to emit a subtle thud that nauseated the otter.

It wasn't meant for her.

Out in the open sea, the whales, dolphins, and narwhals squeaked and scattered, turning the water into a boiling, frothing chaos. Seals, sea lions, and walruses yelped as they leapt out of the way, dodging their maddened brethren who were now reduced to a overwhelming blubbery wave.

Corsi caught the rope ladder of her launch as the boat lurched against a massive wave. Tina swung out and caught Eleanor as she flew overboard. "What's happening?" the rabbit gasped, spluttering on seawater.

"It's that evil device!" Corsi shouted, picking up a flare gun and firing it towards the ship.

Overhead, Natasha saw order to the chaos: those Cetans were swimming shoreward despite their diminutive seal, sea lion, and walrus brethren nipping at them, yanking at them to stop their mindless rush. The rabbit's paw shot to her head as an icy grip wrenched her throat.

"They're going to beach themselves..." she whispered, her mouth torn in a grimace. She had to think rationally: the main ship seemed to be integral in all this: Corsi kept firing at it.

"Horatio! To Ryoga," she shouted, "Tarreg! To Athena. The Cetans are going to die if not stopped, and if we lose them, who knows what's next. Move your damn wings!"

The three creatures shot from the clouds like spears, the bat to Ryoga and Natasha with her wolftaur mount to Athena. They rattled out their observations to their leaders as quick as they could, but both the General and the Prince stopped them mid-sentence and cast them back into the sky.

If that happens, Ryoga thought, we may as well let the enemy clean up their spoils.

Myscindyr will be on trial, the Amazon General thought, the Goddess will toss us to the bottom-feeders. But not under my command!

With that personal declaration, she responded accordingly.

"Attention all forces!" Athena barked into her link, "this madness must be stopped. There's a disruption device affixed to the main ship; follow the flares and stop it post-haste. Mages? Stop this runaway pod!"

John, Lydra, and Ijs braced themselves on the end of the pier which now bucked and lurched against the violent waves roiling beneath them. Cyndra rushed up behind them and, with a surge of giantess strength, tore the anchor from a beached ship and slammed it into the ground, then tossed its chain to the mages who secured the dock to the coast.

"How the hell we do we stop them?" Ijs cried as she froze the knot to the dock, "we're dealing with several tons of blubber that Governess couldn't bruise."

With his telescope, John watched as the harem in their several launches skirt around the pod, avoiding a total scuttling as down below, the seal, sea lion, and walrus forces desperately swarmed the overwhelming charge and ricocheted off their hides by the score.

"Strap up, Sluts; we're going in!" Corsi shouted to her shipmates, then howled in victory as she shot one last flare and set an incoming launch ablaze. Corsi drove her own launch forward, screaming curses through mouthfuls of sprays of seawater as it crashed over another enemy launch and then was abandoned altogether when a catapult ball shattered it in half.

"She's gone into the water!" John shouted. Athena nodded and she launched into her commands, her voice soaring above the commotion as she ran beyond the mages to the head of the pier. She tapped the magic communicator in her ear to make sure it linked to her forces.

"Ground troops, focus on the spearhead!" her voice crackled, "We need to see that otter to her destination. Natasha, covering fire!"

"I got it!" Natasha shouted through her comm link to the General, but she barely heard her own voice for the high winds roaring in her ears. Her bolts glinted in the sun as one rained after another down on advancing forces.

She was rewarded by an immediate shake-up in their charge, their confidence wavering: the surface attack was plenty for the whaling forces to deal with, but the wolftaur-mounted bunny up above gave them an unwelcome new concern. Return fire came almost immediately, but Tarreg dodged arrows already fighting gravity, and even batted a few away with his paws.

Larger waves crashed against the shoreline as the crazed Cetans barrelled forward toward their doom, the water blasting against the General's and her mages' knees and thighs.

"It's no use!" Lydra exclaimed, watching through John's telescope elephant seals and walruses bounce off their crazed whale and orca brethren. Seals and sea lions barked uselessly in their ear holes, unable to imbue any reason to them. "They'll be beached and the Poacher Queen will win with just that!"

"There's ... there's gotta be some way," John said, desperately pondering. Ideas rattled in his head like coins through a gambling machine, none finding their mark. "Nothing's stronger here but Goddess and ocean. Hold on. What if we turned the tide turned against them?"

Lydra cocked a brow. "Literally?"

"Yes!" John exclaimed, his wild gestures attempting to bolster his idea, "Let's slow them down. Ijs, can you form a riptide?"

The jaguar hesitated, looking out at the vast coast which boiled with ships, animals, and projectiles. "Somewhat."

"And Lydra, you can give us a strong gust, can't you?" John asked.

The panther grimaced, eyes wide with panic. "On a certain scale!"

"See, you're qualifying everything," John said, his mind ablaze. "And I'll breathe a wall of fire, high in the air: it'll create a high pressure zone that will force your gusts out."

Ijs shot a queer glance at John, her claws calculating the magic required. "John, I've seen you erupt lava, but that was only from my whipping you and with the Goddess' Blessing."

"Exactly!" John said. "Sexual energy. And remember the orgy thereafter and the energy involved ?"

Lydra snapped her fingers. "We need that now. We've been so focused on the grave consequences we've forgotten the source of our pow--"

"Will you make with the magic already?!" Ijs interrupted, yanking Lydra into a deep tongue-kiss. One paw extended toward the shore, beating back the waves with some of her own; the other spread the panther's pussy open and teased the inside with a claw.

"That's not enough," John said as he tossed heat shimmers into the air with his arousal, supplementing Ijs's waves. His voice rose as he called out to those around him, "We need any and all idle reinforcements; put down your weapons and get your paws on our tools!"

Governess Cyndra bounded up and presented herself. John dove down between her knees, sucking on her clit as he kept firing heat blasts into the sky. The giant snow leopard quaked, paws automatically gravitating to his head, her muzzle still fixed in a grimace.

"Is this your best idea? A quick one-off before our defeat?" she said over the loud, lewd slurping noises issuing from between her legs.

John coughed, muzzle already drenched in her juices, and climbed up her body until his cock was in line with her cunt. "No! It's my only idea," he panted, "Got a better one?"

Cyndra blushed as he felt the blazing head level itself against her folds, and with a sigh of sarcastic resignation eased him in and waved to a reserve battalion of troops. "Trust me, John; I love this plan. I'm gladto be a part of it!"

Cyndra leaned her head back as the mouse clutched onto her, humping into her furiously and fantastically as his free paw continually blasted fire into the sky, singing her whiskers.

Others quickly closed in on the group and turned Lydra and Ijs's lesbian mage display into a small orgy, keeping the panther and jaguar passionately kissing as male and female soldiers commandeered their hind ends, filling a hole with a muzzle, cock, or a strap-on as they passionately administered to the mages' pleasure.

Athena returned from her post to behold a flash orgy, and the bunny understood the sudden change in weather as her mages finished on their partners and switched out for others. "Goddess Bless," she murmured to herself, eyes flicking from the battle to the ocean's swell to thunder clouds tumbling over a wall of fire, finally resting on the writhing, musky bodies at her boots.

Corsi splashed and dove around zipping arrows and small chase vessels that ran up beside her, dodging their oars and spears flashing over the side as she closed in on her target. The sea had grown choppy and the winds picked up; she wondered what was going on behind her, but more curious was the odd number of soldiers ducking and dodging arrows imagined and real.

Natasha is getting results with her suppression fire.

Whatever the distraction, Corsi was sure she now had a shot at that device as long as she remained focused. As she got closer and closer to hit, her stomach turned into knots.

The otter popped her head up once to face the shore: Tina and Eleanor were on their way. Good.

Ryoga turned his binoculars towards the shoreline: he laughed once he saw John caught between an Amazon lioness with a strap-on and Cyndra, John thoroughly plugged while he fucked the Governess's tits. John knew what he was doing, but in his heart of hearts Ryoga wished he was down there, and so he took a moment to stroke his cock before he returned to the battle at paw, blushing deep as his mind put John in the center of several more males and females fucking him silly.

The thunder boomed and lightning crashed, waves climbing high as the Myscindyr walls and pushing out to the ocean. Ships and dolphins headed toward shore were lifted and turned around while whales slowed to a crawl, feverishly struggling.

A sudden storm to save us, Ryoga thought, his teeth flashing, I'd say it's beautiful luck, but something about that mage orgy tells me they're not just fucking around.

Corsi dove under the main ship as a catapult boulder whooshed deafeningly close, striking the water behind her and throwing her forward: the whaling fleet was focusing a nasty amount of resources against her! She took one of the secret paths tunnelled into the ocean floor as weasels with harpoon launchers and enchanted breathing gear swarmed into the water.

Horatio darted across the battlefield, the bat's horn blowing as ship positions changed, a cycle of fronts threatening to break through different points of the Jahaliya/Amazon launches. The Goddess-Blessed fleet was caught between whalers and berzerk whales. Natasha's arm throbbed as her magic quiver struggled to produce bolts; the bunny would sometimes pluck fragments not fully formed and toss them out in frustration. Aim, shoot, reload, balance on a moving wolftaur: all feats took physical and/or magical exertion, and Natasha was openly panting.

However, with the bolts she produced, they landed true in the general area as the enemy broke formation at the sight of the Bowmistress of Jahaliya.

The main ship heaved as its helmsman threw the wheel into a spin, angling the vessel to the shore. It was a stupid move, absolutely suicidal, and one only effective if the ship was loaded with ...

"No. No, no!" Natasha gasped. She put a paw on her quiver, the other grasping the crossbow: "Ballista and Greatbolt. Now."

Corsi came up on the other side of the ship, hidden by a mass of floating driftwood that had been her vessel but was now floating out to sea. She saw a massive shaft of wood shriek from the heavens, exploding into the ship's wheel and nearly its wheelman, locking the vessel in a slow, perpetual spin.

The weasel hunters scattered, splashing desperately for shore and sputtering as their land-lubbin' bodies couldn't keep up with the thrashing sea.

"Hope you bastards drown," she growled, her lithe body threading the ocean surface like a seamstress of the sea as she shot toward the vessel.

Back on shore, the orgy rose to a noisy peak, sweat flying and fluids spurting as bodies rolled over each other, the three mages at the center delirious in an exponentially gaining orgasmic high as they stood as best they could onbuckling knees, serviced from the shoulder down, and sometimes from above as they caught a cock in the mouth.

The seas burst, tidal waves surging outward and flinging ships into the air. Ground forces rushed to recover capsized allies as whales and orcas froze in a high sea wall towering above the shore. John saw, as he pulled out and sprayed down the sore orifice of a Jahaliyan husky whose gender he did not know, a line of sperm whales five hundred tons heavy hovering in the sea two hundred feet above him. "Goddess Bless," he whispered.

Corsi rode the undertow of the swirling main ship and slammed into the sonic device. Pulling a clam knife out of her belt, she pried the case open to find a series of almost-organic tentacles swirling around a pulsing crystal. Corsi turned her head and lost her lunch, casting chewed clams to the sea, and then reached into the wriggling mass to pull its heart out. The otherworld device screamed as its tentacles tore from the gem, which pulsed in the otter's paw a few times before turning into mush, rushing away on the roiling currents.

Lydra gasped and fell to the ground, going limp under the soldiers pounding into her and falling over the one deep in her cunt. Ijs pushed her own lovers off of her and ran to the limp panthress, slapping each soldier in the face to get at the panthress beneath. The seas wavered and the wind died down, but when Ijs looked to John, she saw him smiling.

"Look!" he cried.

The orcas and whales were looking down at them. There was a pregnant pause as, roused to consciousness, the Cetans saw the mass of sticky bodies down below and realized that they were above the land-mammals and therefore, above land. As the wind died down, the sea succumbed to gravity.

King Shamon, roused from his insanity, was the first to hear the clatter of arrows, swords, and splintering wood behind him and the looming coastal shelf ahead of them. "Zounds!" he barked with alarm, "Everyone, about face. Port and starboard on me, now!"

The Cetans turned tail and charged back to the fleet, bashing their head-rams against enemy ships and cutting through the massive fleet as if they were toys in a bath. The sea collapsed on the shore and gushed forth, millions of gallons washing over the orgy of soldiers and throwing them back toward the city with moderate disarray.

"Goddess, did that have to be done?" Ryoga asked as he saw the ships turn back. Horatio landed to give him a report, but the Prince put the trumpet to the bat's lips and snarled, "Blow."

A sharp, ear-splitting cry screamed over the bay and ocean, summoning all Jahaliyan, Amazon, and Cetan forces on a forward charge.

"Charge, before they have a chance to use a second device!" Ryoga cried as he watched his soldiers surge, "Let them know the Just Power of Jahaliya!"

"Give them no quarter!" Shamon shouted as he crested the waves, "It was their genocide we survived!"

Ryoga cupped a paw over his muzzle; his ears glowed with magic. His voice carried over the sea. "You're better than that, Shamon and his servants. You're under Goddess now."

The whales relented: a pod dove under a ship instead of through it, scraping the bottom to saw holes through it. Sea lions and seals attended to the rescue of the crew.

"What do we do?!" a coyote screamed, grabbing his commander's cape and hanging off it in a pathetic contortion of fur and bone. "We can't pull out fast enough; we're sunk!"

The Poacher Queen's officer backhanded the coyote and sent him sailing across the boards. The coyote crashed through a few crates and sat up, massaging his jaw.

"I will return to the Queen and report this legion's incompetence!" she shouted across the ship, then produced a small sphere from her cape and shattered it on the ground, disappearing in the arcane smoke.

Seconds later, a sperm whale rammed through the hull and the ship began to sink. The coyote yipped, unsure if he pissed himself as he threw himself overboard. A shapely otter caught him in one arm, coyly grooming her teeth with a clam knife. "You seem conversational," she giggled, "let's have a chat."

With that, the buxom otter dragged him underwater, his vision clouding with the rush of water before a series of glass tunnels rebirthed him in an underground auditorium. He was alive and safe, sort of, dripping water onto coral-colored glass as he sat on his rump with his paws behind him. The otter sauntered between his legs and pulled down his sheath, her muzzle opening. "So, then..."

***

Ryoga and Athena paced toward the fixer-upper water-logged city district between two long rows of people: Jahaliyans and Myscindryans to the left and prisoners to the right, their heels lapped by coastal waves, their backs watched by a swarm of the several-ton mammals they'd intended to harvest. They all quaked in their soaked boots and clothes, none of them willing to speak.

The wolf paced with threatening silence, but the line stood confused and incoherent, accepting that he'd probably slice all their heads off with some great Jahaliyan scythe, blessed by their Goddess, and then drink their blood. A creative little poop-deck swabber whispered to the rest of the group that the wolf would sooner string them from that huge fuck-balcony over there, the one hanging over everything, and have the orcas chomp at their toes until somebody cracked.

Ryoga heard this threat and wasn't terribly opposed to it, but he knew the idea was all-too vicious for Goddess, who'd blessed his mages during the last battle. The Prince removed his circlet and squeezed the top of his head, quietly daring one of their whaling prisoners to jeer at him.

Between these savages and the Blessed, they seemed to be at a stand-still.

"Wow, dead party, huh?" Corsi giggled as she strung along an exhausted coyote stripped of all his pirate garb, his cock readily flopping out of his sheath.

The Prince replaced his circlet. "Corsi, dear; glad you made it out."

A salty breeze ruffled her fur as she stopped to preen. "Yes, well, a rain of bolts will keep a girl safe. Thanks for the cover fire, Natasha!"

Within the thick line of soldiers, the Bowmistress bowed.

"Who's this?" Ryoga asked, lifting his paw to the floppy-cock coyote.

Corsi grinned. "The first mate, I think." she chittered. She elbowed him in the ribs, dropping him to his knees. "Why don't you tell our fine soldiers what this whole mess is about?"

The coyote sputtered, arms wrapped around his gut. "Just going to suck me off and leave me to dry?" he wheezed. Corsi cuffed him about the ears. He raised his voice so all could hear, avoiding the glances of the crew as he spilled their secrets. "It's a new whaling technique; we thought we'd spring it on your pompous allies as a nice bit of profitable revenge for the last time. As your succulent Slut figured out, we'd beach 'em all and render them easy."

Ryoga's eyes and teeth strained behind their coverings, his pelt stretching tight against his skull as he practiced the utmost Princely poise. General Athena approached him, touching his bicep, and he shook his head. "Perhaps, in reciprocation, we should toss you all out to sea and fish out your corpses."

A gasp shot through his audience, prisoners and allies alike. Ryoga held up a paw. "Hyperbole," he said, opening his eyes to the coyote. "What else?"

The coyote flinched, and Corsi lifted him to his feet by his nape. "What else? Th-there's nothing else!"

Ryoga's eyes remained level, a steady glow appraising his enemy. "The better the information, the better your stay. The truth will go a long way towards that."

The coyote sagged, stepping out away from Corsi. "This'll rile you, but I'm going to trust the honor you thrust in front of your allies," he said, scratching his arm and behind his head, "We knew the calves couldn't beach themselves as bad; lots of them could roll back into the water. There'd be a lot of live ones, is what I'm saying."

He looked back at Corsi, then at Ryoga, who at his height seemed an impossible sight taller. The giant snow leopard behind the Prince cracked her heavy knuckles. "Promise my safety?" he asked.

"If you don't try my patience, now talk!" Ryoga roared.

The coyote yelped, shielding his face as he talked through a horrible stutter. "Whale-calf slavery! Take 'em, cage 'em, force-feed 'em, and make 'em puke beautiful, expensive ambergris! In, out, in, out, then toss 'em when spent."

A hush went about the bay, the wolf's cape flapping about him as he shut his eyes once more, a forefinger quivering as he held it in the air to preclude his statement.

One moment, a solid embossed spanse of time passing unmoving people, stretched on for what seemed to be ages. Ryoga then lowered his paw, a strange calm having settled over him.

"It's perfectly evil; quite befitting of the Poacher Queen," he said in a cool voice that almost purred. "Just be glad Shamon didn't learn about this, or he would have chomped you in half and I hardly could have restrained him."

General Athena stared forward, the best of her military training preventing her face from distorting at Ryoga's sudden change in demeanor.

The Wolf Prince sipped in a breath, then turned to his forces with a serene, demure, silver-alabaster face. "Now that their commander has escaped, we should see a pause in action. She'll report of our coordinated naval opposition and of their four-galleon loss. I don't see a prompt response from the Poacher Queen, nor a continuation of these deplorable plans. Still, let us stay vigilant and continue to molest the Queen's shipping on the high seas. That should satisfy Shamon enough for now. I shall speak with him at present."

Ryoga bowed to them, his tail waving below his cape. "A great victory for us all, Jahaliya and Myscindrya; well done."

Hardly had he finished his sentence that a blast of ardent roars put a ringing in his lupine ears. He dismissed himself on even boot-steps.

***

An hour later, in the early purple glow of a tranquil shoreside evening, Natasha was re-stringing her crossbow on the hillside, reclining in Tarreg's belly-fur as Horatio warmed their ears with smooth, dulcet melodies from his horn when a thunderous bellow shook the bay.

"They poach our flesh and despoil our young?! I'll chomp the heads off that flotsam and blow their brains through my blowhole!" King Shamon roared, leagues off with the Prince accompanying him in some hidden cove.

The bat lowered his trumpet. "My, he's rather annoyed, 'Mistress."

Natasha plucked the weapon's string and smiled. "Our Prince did his best. Imagine if somebody'd told him direct."

"That'd be round 2 with the mages and their water-wall. We could join that orgy."

All three laughed as they resumed their restful states.

***

John, Sylvia, and Lydra walked through the soggy portion of town, the great gates of inner Myscindrya looming before them as they surveyed the damage of the mage-created tidal wave. Ijs had long ago flown to the palace.

The Myscindrya citizenry milled about peaceably, actually going so far as to bow to the wizards that had inadvertently wrecked their homes as they went about a concerted effort of clean-up.

"You know, it's really not that bad," Sylvia pondered as she waved to a young lioness adult cat-calling her, "Inconvenient, but the structures have held; excellent architecture. Our Highness briefly mentioned a genius beaver in Myscindrya's employ; hopefully he can have these hovels in straight order before the season changes."

Lydra perked up, body positively bouncing. "Oh believe me, Sawchuck is more than equal to the task!"

Sylvia waved a paw, they quickly approaching the gate. "There we have it. Now John, my astute alumnus, I've a pop quiz."

The Majordomo stopped, looking up at the massive wooden doors that blocked their entrance. His ears twitched and blushed; his tail lashed behind him. "I'm sure you know the protocol for entrance, Matron."

"Of course I do! That is the purpose of a pop quiz. The question is: do you?"

The mouse felt his sheath swell and pull at his hips. "Well, tradition is --"

"It's a live demonstration, John," the lioness interrupted, her grin gleaming in the gate's torchlight as she folded her arms under her voluptuous breasts, "please complete the exercise."

John coughed, easing the rest of his cock out of his sheath with his paws as it readily grew erect, and then with it fully formed and veiny in the warm night air, bouncing heavily over a pair of pert round balls, strutted to the slot imbedded in the enormous doors and slipped his member through.

He heard mewling on the other side, a few appraising moans, and finally a hot tongue on the tip. Pleasure crackled down the shaft and sizzled through his body. Just as quickly he felt the saliva cool on his glans as a giant lock within the gate's body slammed open. The gates groaned as they parted.

They entered the inner city and were blown away by tall palace buildings ensconced by golden filigree that crawled up their thick shafts like veins.

Lydra grinned and patted John's shoulder, eyes following his cock's sturdy bounce. "Keep that ready, John; you've obviously made a good impression!"

The mouse blushed as he strode on forward, ears pricked at a heavy wind humming low and throaty through the city. "I'll do my best," he said.

Looking behind him, John spotted on a high catwalk, the glass and steel structure formed exactly as an uncircumcised penis pressing against sculpted pussy folds built into the main structure, his Wolf Prince Ryoga rattling off a number of items to attentive Amazons and one Cetan sea lion, who was being carried along on a stretcher by a few Jahaliyan servants.

"Well, glad I'm not alone," John whispered to himself.

A long line of guards greeted them at an enormous set of double doors. John saw, in the reflection of a side building comprised chiefly of gold-tinted glass, that these doors were much smaller than those of the main entrance, but nonetheless big enough to balk at as they towered over his head.

"Right this way, my noble mages; Goddess awaits inside," a messenger beamed, genuflecting herself before the trio as the giant doors glided silently open behind her.

Ijs paced in the center of a wide crater carved from quartz. Her thigh-high boots clacked on the curved stone surface and the pink rock reflected in her black and yellow spotted fur. In the center of the arena sat an odd sculpture of iron and crystal, shaped almost like a musical note and seeming to sit on an oiled pivot.

At the sight of John and the rest, the jaguar grinned and gestured to a set of silver pews scoring the inner ring. John and his company silently thanked her and took their places. They saw Cyndra perched on a giant throne of the same precious metal and John nodded politely when Jahaliya's Governess acknowledged him.

Ijs swiveled on toe and heel to return to the strange sculpture. She gave it a whirl and then slashed the air with her other paw, throwing ice magic through its rotating blades and igniting the crystals with her arcana.

The jaguar's eyes glowed a clear, icy blue, her pupils occluded in the clean wash. Her body suddenly went rigid as the monument whirred to life, and then a voice came from the jaguar, but not from her mouth: it spoke directly to the minds present and reached not one idle ear.

I've most satisfied by your heroic and entertaining solution to today's battle, a voice intoned.

John knew, with a jolt of his cock, it was Goddess speaking. Here in jaguar form--the jaguar that had tortured him, no less--it was a strange, thrilling sight.

The geas is done; the ambrosial voice continued, the abuse to John of Jahaliya is heretofore absolved.

John perked at this, a grin crossing his muzzle and showing his buckteeth. The Amazon audience cheered and Cyndra stood free of her throne, the enormous snow leopard thrusting her arms to the ceiling of this sculpted sanctum.

"Our Lady of Mercy," Cyndra intoned, stretching her giantess form out for the Goddess to fully drink in, observing Her vessel, Ijs, growing wet between the hips, "I pledge my people's unfaltering loyalty and their every achievement as warriors to Your wishes, and to your kingdom Jahaliya. If we may only keep the pure fundament of our Amazonian warrior culture, we are Yours by all Your Holy Means."

A sweet, arousing giggle sounded throughout the chamber. My ardent paragon of the female form, the Goddess grinned, as you have pleased Me before, as long as you continue to uphold My Ideals, I Myself shall preserve your heritage."

In response, Cyndra and her kingdom fell to their knees and pledged themselves. "My great Goddess, we shall be true warriors of Jahaliya, on duty,"

The Goddess chuckled again. John bit his lip as precum spurt onto the floor, his cock quivering at Her every word. Spoken like a true politician; what do you mean by 'on duty?'

Sylvia and Lydra inclined their heads, surprised at Goddess' conversational tone. She was having quite the bit of fun with Her boisterous, giantess thrall. The possessed Ijs seemed ready to jump between her Governess's breasts.

Cyndra stood and posed before the glowing jaguar medium, assured that Goddess could see every contour of her buxom, invincible form. She said in a tone born of smoke and lust, reaching a finger out to tickle Ijs's clit, "We of Myscindyr dream not only for our honorable military service to the Crown, but also wish to be holy, horny sluts whose toned bodies may serve the myriad thick, pulsing cocks our Prince, King, Majordomo, and others sport in service to Your Just, Lusty ways."

The possessed Ijs kissed her Governess's muzzle and then left her for John, hovering a few inches above the ground as she crossed the air between them. The jaguar's brow creased when she neared the muscular mouse.

You've regrets, John. Can I soothe you with My Light?

John held a fist up as he turned away from Goddess. Breath came sharp around his buck teeth. "I ... was briefly tempted by the geas," he said, avoiding Her gaze, "To fuck a bunch of servile Amazons, it's a powerful thought."

Ijs's brow sagged in pity.

"Well then. We owe you our freedom, so how about we repay you with our lust?" Cyndra argued, tossing her throne backwards as she strutted about the arena. "Tonight, it's anything you want, but pay mind, Majordomo, I'll want that sluttiness returned on a future date."

John squeaked. "No more whips."

Cyndra laughed. "No real ones; how's that?"

"Dear Goddess ... "

Ijs grinned, the inside of her thighs moist and fragrant. I say you get to it, honorable John. For Goddess, cunt, and country.

John looked to Sylvia, who while her nipples were erect and the fingers of one paw wandered precariously close to her pussy, observed the entire matter with a quirked brow. The mouse bowed before Goddess' possessed medium, his erection striking the toe of his boot as he nearly fell prostrate.

"Best of pardons begged, My Deiess," Sylvia asked, "but wouldn't this all have been solved with the pre-established geas, where they submit themselves to John regardless?"

Ijs chuckled, a paw bending back to play with her mage's robe. Context is everything, she purred, and the difference here lies in the fact that, freed of the geas, they still desire John so desperately.

The jaguar, glowing with magical power, strode up to John and gently tapped the head of his cock, head nodding as it bounced. Don't deny yourself, and them, for a contradiction that no longer exists.

Cyndra stood before John, her curvaceous form glowing in the ritual's crystal light. "As such, let's enjoy ourselves now," she said.

John couldn't deny his erection for much longer. The mouse smiled, another splash of pre hitting the sanctum's floor as he stood upright. He looked briefly to Ijs, who beamed with the Goddess' pleasure, and then back to Cyndra, who posed entirely nude before him, wearing nothing but a grin.

"Just an orgy, right?" the mouse chuckled, "How hard can it be?"

The snow leopard squeezed his cock, her large paw engulfing his admirable malehood. "Harder you are, the easier it is."

John winced, leaking into her warm palm. "Perfect. Do you have any pies?"

Cyndra repealed her paw, licking the sticky liquid from between her fingers. "Glad we've come to an understanding, my mousey stud."

***

Against Cyndra's wishes but overruled by an ardent Ryoga with the final vote cast by John, the ceremony was set up in the experimental, elaborate half-submerged auditorium.

"The Cetans can rescue us if the place breaks; you should have more faith in Sawchuck!" the Prince had laughed.

"I hate the water," the giant snow leopard growled.

"Then why do you have a fuck-balcony over it?"

"Because it is over it, not underneath."

John entered the auditorium when summoned, having beforehand been lavished over with tangy fruits and refreshing beverages on said fuck-balcony as the battlefield below was cleared of debris. Before him stood a line of nude, elite Amazon warriors on the pearl-encrusted stage. A rack of magic orbs above them lit the stage and twinkled on mirrors submerged below the aquarium/auditorium's water, broadcasting the lewd display to a legion of horny Cetan warriors, their cocks bobbing beneath them in the water.

Eleanor bowed to John when he entered, then waited for him to cross the gangplank from the entrance tunnel to the stage. She handed him a funny conch shell whose end had been carved into a flare.

"I was going to sing, but you were so enthusiastic."

John chuckled, putting the conch up to the rabbit's ear before whispering, "If you were going to use that magic microphone, we'd be cumming before the first chorus."

Eleanor blushed, pressing her paws between her thighs as they shivered.

Horatio's nose pulsed at the sweet feminine arousal as the bat walked past her, his own cock bouncing low between his short legs. He saluted, trumpet under one arm.

"Musicians in position, Majordomo."

John looked past the erect bat, idly tapping the short male's snout with his own cock. "On the stage?"

Horatio snuffled, muzzle automatically opening at the thick, semi-erect shaft. "Just in case you have extra pies."

"Blow your own horn!" John laughed and dismissed them both. Sylvia came from a gangplank in the distance, her breasts brilliantly illuminated by a particularly perverted spotlight, wheeling a gross of whipped cream pies. Her thigh-high boots clacked on the polished wood and pearl surfaces, and when she got to John the house lights went down, hiding the Jahaliyan and Amazon audiences in the box seats and the Cetan warriors beneath.

"They're all yours, my dear. Just one thing," she said.

The lioness drew so close to him that the erect nipples on her pendulous breasts tapped against his own, causing them to immediately harden. She bent down on him, kissing his bulky pectorals, his sculpted abs, and with one simple peck to the tip of his cock, it stood out from the mouse as rigid as a beam. John gasped at her sensual touch, fighting all urges to push her head upon it, but the lioness was already back up, locking eye contact with him and grinning as she reached behind her, grabbed a pie, and set it daintily on the tip.

"Good boys demonstrate great poise," she giggled, and then left with a sashay of her round hips, her tail dancing up high above her plump rump cheeks.

John cleared his throat. The pie itself seemed to deflate his phallus as it collapsed with the plate becoming a kind of loin plate . The audience tittered at the amusing sight, seeing their jaunty Janahliyan fire mage censored by a dessert.

"That's enough of that," he chuckled as he took up a pie in one paw, the other raising his conch horn to his muzzle.

So much pie and our bellies are full, he warbled,

So what do you do with the rest of them all?

John danced as he sang, spinning as he swooped down low, his cape furling upward to flash his pert rump and the back of his luscious balls. The band paused when he did, the musicians watching him intently. The audience whooped and whistled, and he continued.

We could eat, we could feast, we could stuff them down,

A burp and there's room for another round,

Bless, Goddess Bless all the sweets bestowed,

But one pie more and I'll just explode...

He stopped before a heavy breasted fossa cat Amazon, spinning the plate on his index finger. Another whoop and round of howls snapped around the stadium. The mouse's buck teeth gleamed in the orb light.

"Oh, what am I saying?" he laughed, wiggling his hips, rolling his pie loinplate in the light. "Even one pie is too much." The cart rolled up behind him, and he promptly splatted a pie in between the fossa cat's legs.

They'll go to your hips! (Splat) They'll go to your thighs! (Splat)

To your butt and your belly; such a crazy surprise!

It was a double-splat, he sandwiching the female by slapping the fluffy, messy desserts on those areas. An explosion of cream shot up both his arms.

It gathers on your face (Splat) and dangles from your arms (Splat),

It fills out your breasts (Splat), but I guess that's no harm!

Pies in all places, in every funny crevice (Squish)

A tiger moaned as John thrust a pie under her tail and crumpled the tin, the cream leaking between her legs.

Indulgence has many risks (Splat); this blessed vice I can't miss!

A pie for the day (Splat) and one for the Goddess (Squish),

Doused in her cream, there is no better bodice.

The males, them too! Could use a richer chest (Splat-Splat) ...

Horatio's trumpet honked as it left his lips, John having slunk up from behind to slap two creamy tins on the bat's chest.

Just listen to them moan when you coat their breast.

John walked away from the musician's box, sauntering in front of a row of Amazon women dripping with cream and pastry, wet fragments of pie rolling off their buxom furry breasts, cream dribbling down their thighs, hanging from their swollen labia. The muscular mouse saw milk bead on the clit of a jaguar, dangling before her rich, velvet cunny just begging to be lapped off.

Cyndra stood, her teats stiff as stalactites and her sex pink as a sunrise. The giant snow leopard looked down at him, past a silent, curious muzzle. When that drop of milk fell from the jaguar's cunny, John's cock lurched, straining against his pie loinplate. He sang softly, knowing he didn't have long.

A pie for rapture, a pie for regret,

But one for absolution?

You ain't seen nothing yet.

With that, his cock sprang up, flinging its pie like a trebuchet. The pastry exploded on Cyndra's face and toppled down her nose, her chin, her breasts, and clattered on the floor.

The Governess grinned, cream dripping from her lips. "Thus anointed, I ..."

The mouse cut her off, his muscular body in motion, boots stamping across the pastry-soiled surface before he pounced her into the audience, she toppling backwards with a joyous laugh. He clutched her hips and passionately fucked her. Cyndra purred with pleasure and John glowed with lust, he burying his head into her pie-soaked chest as his balls slapped against her tailhole, his cock pulsing with delight.

"Yes, John!" Ryoga's voice roared over the audience, "That's the Jahaliyan spirit!"

John came with gushing, pressurized spurts that sprayed back on him and drooled down his thighs and her buttocks, the mouse stumbling once to toss ropes over her pubic mound, stomach, and breasts before he could reinsert his geyser and fill her to the point of sticky, salty backwash.

John collapsed atop her, firmly inserted within her, and when the audience's cheers died down he felt a finger drag down his wet thigh and then tease itself against his own tailhole. He shivered at Cyndra's touch, squirming as she prodded his pucker with his own cum.

"Are we forgiven now, Master John?" Cyndra purred with a deep, sonorous satisfaction. The mouse's head trembled against the rumble of her abdomen.

The mouse groaned as a thick snow leopard digit, wide as a good cock, eased its way inside him. "Ungh, Goddess ... yes," he grunted, "and when you come to our city, I'll see you try the Illusion Cave. It's its own Blessing; absolutely required. Try it with me."

Cyndra chuckled, her deep laugh vibrating in his ears. "That would be excellent. Turn into a dragon and bend me over a castle."

John looked up at her between her tits, astonished.

"The two of us, that big?"

The snow leopard inclined her heavy chin. "A Governess does not desire to be a thrall before Princes. She desires to be a Goddess before Armageddon!"

John's mind burst at the imagery, his firm, smaller body rocking between her slick cunt and the long digit thrusting into him, thrusting him into her. "Quite the relationship you propose."

"If I am so forgiven," she grinned, keeping him tight against him, squirming at his touch and her own, stroking and manhandling him, "then I truly wish to sup of the spoils beholden to me."

John gasped, his cock lurching a second time. The audience around him, above and below the water's surface, uproariously applauded. As juices ran down his luscious sac, some of it pooling into his boots, the mouse assented. "Then you may be one of Goddess' most ardent acolytes. Unf! R-Ryoga?" he stammered, looking backwards past the intent arm that held him.

Ryoga finished over Horatio's, Eleanor's, and Sylvia's muzzles, squeezing out the last healthy dregs of cum on their cold, wet noses. He shook it off and then pushed past them.

"It sounds like a great idea!" he called out, biting his lip as his eyes spotted a blast of cloudy cum drift up to the surface, "You with your Illusion Cave and Erotic Games for the rest of us!"

The Prince Wolf turned to his audience, his silver and alabaster fur glimmering under the light of the auditorium's magic orbs, his circlet catching one to form a star on his forehead.

"Ladies and gentlemen, warriors and citizens, a most vexatious day has turned into a night of pure pleasure. We've all fought valiantly--Corsi, Natasha, Tarreg, thank you for the spear-head play and its support; Ijs, Lydra, and of course John? Way to work your magic. Brilliant; you saved half an army. King Shamon, great recovery once we smashed the insanity device. General Athena, your perfection requires too many thank-yous.

"Let's hang it up, Cetaes, Jahaliya, and Myscindrya!" Ryoga shouted, his fang-filled smile gleaming, his arms sweeping out to a deafening roar of worship. "All to your beds, or each others'. Plenty of pies in the lobby, but mind you ... "

They held their laughter, though a stray whoop leaked out.

"It goes straight to your thighs."

And with a roar of applause, laughter, and howls that rattled the underwater auditorium, it was all solved. The Kingdoms of Cetaes and Myscindrya were wholly, finally cemented with each other and with Jahaliya. Ryoga blew kisses to the audience as he left first, letting everyone else wipe themselves down and quite a few pull themselves out of each other. Cyndra grabbed John by the nape and lifted him free, dragging a long, velcro tongue over his entire front before setting him down.

John stumbled back to the center stage, bowing deeply to an encore of praise as the theater returned to its senses. It all seemed like a distant memory now, the torture and the savagery, trenches dug between their nations and filled with wooden spikes.

"Thank you, Goddess," he whispered, "I hope I can stay as worthy as you think I am."

Ijs passed behind him and tugged his tail. When John turned with a start, the jaguar winked at him, her eyes glowing. John hadn't heard her coming: her boots were floating above the ground.

You can demonstrate that in my quarters, John.