FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter V

(MirandaArqayla)

Keedee was way too worked up with all the excitement of the night to actually pay attention to where she was going. Forward, ever forward, to see what might be waiting for her in the next room and little else mattered. That included her own friends. It wasn't that she didn't care about them. She just assumed they were fine as she pushed onward in single-minded pursuit of the ecstasy that was adventure. There was no need for forces supernatural or otherwise to interfere. She did a fine job wandering off on her own without the rooms even needing to rearrange or vanish behind her or whatever other tricks lurked within the creaking wood.

The spirit of adventure, of danger-loving foolishness only grew stronger within her when she found herself surrounded not by walls, but by the wild. It was fresh and green there. The setting sun reflected through the fields, the stones. High above, a moon was rising, full and bright. And so was another, right alongside it. It took her more than a few glances before the reality of such a sight dawned on her. That finally made her stop in her tracks and actually look at her surroundings, instead of blindly pushing on. She was somewhere else.

She had long since left the house behind in favour of a more open, untamed wilderness. Out there, she felt so much more attached to her own instincts. They told her to be cautious, more than anything. She was outwardly a hyena, but that side of her was nervous without any other people around her. She needed her pack, her clan. And the other side, those mixed zebra genes of hers that didn't manifest, told her that the only option was constant vigilance. Every rustle, every snap of twigs could be a deadly predator out to get her. She had to be ready to run at the first sign of danger.

Of course, for someone as odd as her, it was all just invigorating. There was so much to explore, so much to experience, that she couldn't help but forget about how she got there in the first place. The mansion was just a memory, something faintly present in the back of her mind. It felt important, but every step she took through the soft, dew-covered grass made it fade a little more. Until all she could think about was what might possibly be up ahead. Over the hills. Across that river. Inside that cave.

Her eyes were keen in the limited light, but even to her the mouth of that great cavern was dark. The rock surface outside was carved with several deep, rough gashes as if something had been fighting to get out of there. From within, she caught some sort of unfamiliar scent. Warm. Feral. But still distant. No doubt there was something in there she didn't want to deal with. The sanest option was to simply walk away and find better shelter. But she could feel the first drops of rain upon her shoulders, leaving her shivering with the chill they brought, as if they were freshly melted ice. The warmth from within that rocky maw was more inviting than the frigid, possibly endless landscape, with no other shelter in sight. She stepped in.

She knew she was being impulsive. She knew how stupid this all was. But she was desperately, painfully curious. There was no way she could have lived with herself if she went on not knowing what was in that cave. Wherever she really was. Wherever the house had taken her. It didn't matter anymore. She was pacing through the dark, squinting her eyes as they glimmered there in the shadows, moving along until she heard the heavy breaths. Something was sleeping there. Something so large that it's mere exhalations shook the ground beneath her. She could feel the tremors beneath her feet. Or maybe that was just her shaking. From the cold, from the excitement, from the dread of what she was about to find.

It was a relief to see he was only a dragon. A huge, feral one, but she had met those before. And of course she was turned on. She didn't get to be called a particularly excitable hyena for nothing. He was lying there, all stretched out, his head upon his forelegs like a sleeping cat, snoring like he were trying to bring the cave down upon himself. She just watched him for a while, letting herself fall under his menacing allure, admiring his heft and strength and size. All red and golden yellow, she could tell how handsome he was even in the moonlight that managed to reach that point in the cave. Thick and pudge and soft despite all those scales, she was feeling an increasingly devious impulse to just go right up and give him a squeeze.

She hadn't made a sound, not even the tiniest of giggles. Yet somehow he still knew she was there. A snort announced his awakening, and it was followed by his eyes opening up wide. Steam emanated from his nostrils when he snorted again, looking right towards her. She was crouched down, but still entirely visible. A puny little bundle of spots, staring right back. That was when he grinned. Broad and toothy, showing off every single one of his fangs all the way to the back of his jaws as he shone that deadly visage in her direction. There was no holding back her cackles when they met eyes, no matter how firmly she planted her hands over her mouth.

Snickering into her palms like that didn't make him stop grinning. But she went silent when he opened wider and simply licked his lips, right in front of her. She was still some distance away, but the flick of his spit made it all the way to her. Only then did she settle down, at least audibly. Her body was still quivering, still all tensed up and excited with that special mix of fear and attraction that she so uniquely experienced. She was wet. And not as in a bit damp around the edges. She was completely soaking, dripping wet with arousal that ran down her thighs just to look at him making those teasing, threatening gestures at her. Her legs quivered as she rubbed her thighs together and she bit her lower lip hard enough it hurt.

It was easy to order her around like that. All he needed to do was beckon a claw to her, and she was strolling right over, lumbering along as if mesmerized by some sort of hypnotic song. But no, she was just horny enough it was hard to walk in a straight line. Full on drunk on her own lusty desire for the big and dangerous to the point she couldn't even think of what to say to him. She just made noises instead, little muffled whoops slipping out through her tightly sealed lips.

"Silly little thing. Wandering into a dragon's cave all alone. Does the spotty morsel have a name?"

She stood up tall on her toes to answer, trying to make herself look as steady as possible. Which just made her state all the worse. She almost collapsed entirely, her legs wobbling, her chest heaving as she just sucked in a breath to answer.

"Keedee."

"Cute. Not that it'll matter. I assume you know mine already if you're walking in here all juiced up like that. Been lusting after me for a while, have you?"

She blinked. "Um, no, actually. I just ... kind of came in."

That made him laugh. It was a deep, scrapey kind of sound, one that made her shiver some more.

"Is that so? Just happened to walk right in here and get all turned on at the mere sight of big Augustus himself? I'm flattered. And grateful to whoever sent you my way. I think I know who I have to thank for your timely arrival."

He stood up, towering above her, She was barely up to his chest, maybe reaching the protruding sag of his pudgy belly. His presence was warm, banishing the air she brought in with her. And his scent was distinctly male. More so when she saw his cock dropping down, bobbing back and forth a few times before starting to firm up towards his underside. Broad smooth, it lacked any intimidating ridges. But she still knew right away that there was no possible way she could fit it inside of her. Not that there weren't plenty of other things they could do together.

"You wanna fuck, don't you, hyena? You're pretty small. But I bet that fur feels good on my dick. Come here."

She approached even closer as soon as he directed. There wasn't even any hesitance on her part, no time to think about it. She was just going forward, letting that raised front foot take over her vision as he pushed her to the ground. That left her pinned for a time, a small amount of his weight coming down on her to smoosh his soles right over her entire body, pressing her face up between his toes. A nicely thick, masculine scent of lust and scales filled her senses, leaving her squirming, almost drooling as she giggled a little more. Not laughing, just so excited she wasn't even able to speak.

He grunted a command. "Clothes off. Don't make me use my teeth."

She had to wait for him to let up on her body before she could even move, but she obeyed without a word of protest. Squirming and kicking around on the floor in front of him, she stripped down and tossed her outfit to the side, not caring what became of it. She was far too focused, far too horny. And when she was naked to her bare, soft spotty fur before him, she nearly screamed with desire when he came down upon her. He was smothering her in potently musky heat, using her face and most of her upper body as a place to rest those big fat dragon nuts, and that was exactly where she stayed for a while, unable to breathe a single gasp of air.

It didn't even bother her for the longest of time, until finally she started to feel that tightness in her lungs. She started to squirm, unable to hold still, wiggling there beneath his balls until he finally grunted and lifted them back up, leaving her panting and coughing just a bit. Some of that was just her choking on all the saliva she was producing. When she'd recovered some, she got a faceful of his cock. Maybe she couldn't swallow that massive trunk of a dragon dick, but she could certainly kiss it, could slurp it and suck on its surface, swiping her lips and tongue over every inch she could reach. When she got the taste all soaked into her tongue, she just went ahead and wrapped her arms and thighs around the rest of his meat, clinging to it, refusing to let go as he humped her.

Hyena that she was, her clit was sensitive. More or less normal size, if slightly more engorged than most females, it was perfect for a smooth-fleshed dragon cock to grind on. He wasn't even trying to pleasure her that hard, just thrusting and rubbing himself off with her fur, soaking her in the pre he was soon smearing over her body. But in the process he just happened to catch against her clit again and again, rubbing the juices out of her, getting his own dick soaked in them until the process of pleasuring himself with her was deafeningly slick.

He puffed some as he put some effort into it. His belly pressed just above her ears, and she could hear him breathing heavy. He probably could have just flattened her right then, crushed her flat with the force of his dick rubbing against her, but he was gentle enough she only felt the pleasure. It was enough to get her shaking, get her twitching and squeezing tighter, clamping herself around his shaft while he fucked her as best two bodies of such different sizes could fuck. She was screaming, whooping, yipping, making every noise she could as she writhed like mad beneath him, finally forced to a climax she couldn't possibly resist.

She squirted near as hard as he came. In what remained of her coherent mind she was delighted to know just using her like a toy was getting him off. Just as she felt herself contracting and seizing up with pleasure, gushing those warm juices all along the underside of his shaft, he snorted and slammed against her, pressing the wide-open slit of his cock against her muzzle as it bulged broadly with his flexes of orgasm. Then her vision, along with her hearing, her senses of smell and taste were all blotted out by the rushing cream. Pure fresh dragon cum straight from the tap, blasting her right in the face until her nose and ears were all plugged up with it. She had no choice but to start gulping at it, feeling it forcing its way past her lips, making her gargle and gag on it as she choked as much of it down as she could. The rest just poured all around her, soaking into her fur in her ears, her pussy, even between her toes.

Left flat and ruined there, her fur stuck to her body, sopping and steaming with the heat of dragon seed, she just drooled a while. She barely even made any noise, aside from a small little snicker taking over her weakened body now and then, making her convulse. It was hard to even tell if she was awake, or was just passed out and having pleasant sexy dreams about him. But she was making plenty of noise once more as soon as he got his tongue upon her.

She yelped out, crying in both bliss and surprise as he swiped that meaty slurper up over and between her thighs. He dragged along her puffy, overstimulated cunt, then to her belly, her breasts, and finally her face. It was only a start when it came to cleaning her up, replacing that thick cum with drool that was near as copious, but it did help her shake off the stunning effect of climax. She couldn't really get up, not when he was looming over her like that. And he was grinning again. Even in her blurred vision, shrouded further by the darkness of the cave's moonlit interior, she could see his teeth. Gleaming and sharp, all locked together, one after another, each pointed down at her vulnerable, naked body.

When he reached to snatch her up with his toes and dangle her helplessly in the air before him, she could only yip again. There wasn't much to say. She'd already submitted to his whim, already put herself in harm's way just to see what might happen. If he wished to toy with her further, even after already making her cum so hard she was having trouble keeping from fainting again, that was his decision to make. And so she didn't protest, didn't yell and scream or try to change his mind when he brought her closer to his jaws. Even when he opened them up wide, showing off the wet and slimy interior, puffing her with his potent breath until she was curling each toe up against her pawpads.

"You're cute. But you're still mine. I've been thinking about how I want you, but one lick and I'm reminded of something." He dragged his tongue slowly over his teeth, highlighting them with spit while he kept her in suspense. Only once he'd worked over every single fang in turn, one side to the other, top and bottom, did he lean in and speak to her again. His voice was equal parts whisper and predatory rumble. "I fucking love the taste of hyena. You might be tiny, but that just means I'll have to savour you."

He didn't give her even a moment for a response. Not even a gasp, a look of horror, a protest to be cut off by his decisive action. Instead, he just shoved her in his mouth, ramming her head towards the back of his throat. She splatted face-first into that same tongue that had so nicely slurped her, and all was dark when he sealed his lips shut around her shins. He was much bigger than her, though she still didn't quite fit entirely in his mouth at once. Mostly. And she was plenty small enough to suck on, soon caught up in the squeezing, kneading grip of his cheeks and tongue as he swished her all around, drinking all the cum and juices right off her matted fur while he drooled so hard it dripped from her protruding toes.

She couldn't even get a proper cackle of alarm out under such a wet assault. It was all muffled, all knocked out of her by those ruthless sucks, while she was squished from one side of his maw to the other. His tongue pressed against her spotted body so firmly that it nearly crushed her. She could feel her spine popping from the force as she was bent in all sorts of shapes. And through it all, there was the ever-present threat of his teeth. They weren't hurting her, even when she found part of herself laid right overtop of the bottom row, but she could feel their points, feel their strength and firmness. Compared to them she might as well have been made of paper.

It was just a nibble at first. He pushed her around with his tongue until she was resting atop his teeth, bringing the upper row down upon her back. She felt the points pressing into her flesh, digging in but not quite piercing as she balanced there, not moving. Her muscles were tense, yet some part of her enjoyed the kneading pressure. Like a very intense sort of massage. He took care not to draw any blood. Just rubbing at her, teasing her with the thought of how easy it would have been to just bite down. Hard. But he wouldn't have even had to use much force to completely ruin her in a single bite.

He tested her. Just to see how much she could take. The kneading became more of a pinch, building up the pressure ever so slightly, just barely starting to press through her skin. She didn't smell blood yet, but his breath was pretty strong in her nose. Before he could do any real damage, he just shoved her onto his tongue again, tipping his head to the side and letting all the juices flow along with her. She was left sprawled and panting, clinging to his slurper. It was too dark to see in there, but she could feel the flexing undulations of his gullet, squeezing around a morsel that wasn't there. One slip and she would have been gone.

But he didn't swallow her. He was enjoying her flavour far too much for that. He wanted more. His cock was already throbbing, already squishing up against the rounded shape of his well-fed belly to think about it. He was going to find out how good she really tasted. Not just on the inside. A little push with his tongue had her lined up just right. His fangs pressed in firmly to her body once more. Her head was pointed at the back of his throat, while his teeth curled up between her breasts and down her spine, before leaving one leg to dangle out beside his jaws. The other got wrapped up at the ankle right between his front teeth, letting her wiggle her toes between his lips.

He began to bite down. Softly at first, just holding her there, pinching her in place. Then firmer and firmer, building up the pressure, testing her body, pushing her to her own limits. A shaky gasp slipped from her, but that was the best she could manage. When she felt him start to really pierce her skin, start to draw some blood, she wanted to cry out, or at least whimper, but the squeezing grip kept her silent. Even when her bones started to give out.

She had a strong skeleton, but not one that could resist a dragon's jaws. Her ribs began to cave in first. Splintered and bending, they produced the first sickly crackle, rolling through her body. Her ankle was next, her paw getting twisted off in unnatural directions as he snapped his way through that bone, almost but not quite severing her paw right then. Instead it simply dangled, attached by skin and flesh left shredded by the bite. The only part of her that was free was that one leg hanging loose from his mouth, and it kicked all around for a while, beating against his chin and lower lip while he slowly bit into her supple body. She still couldn't manage a scream.

Blood was starting to trickle from his jaws, where it wasn't just being swallowed. He was getting plenty from her. Wounding her. Hurting her. Pressing in deeper and deeper until his teeth nearly met in the middle. Only then did he relent. Parting his teeth again, showing restraint. A crunch, a chew, but not fully. He didn't bite her in half, as easily as he could have. He was just letting her bleed, slurping at the crimson, drinking it right from her body. Her free leg was still kicking, weaker then, showing how much she protested if nothing else. It was hard to breathe, but she couldn't tell how much damage he'd really done. And she didn't even get a chance to think about escaping.

He finally couldn't resist it anymore. She felt so soft and warm against his teeth. Her flavour was incredible, especially once he'd broken her open. He wanted nothing more than to just chomp into her. The thought of doing it was nearly bringing him to orgasm, leaving him throbbing, painting his gut with pre. And so without even so much as a warning, he plunged his teeth down all the way, cleaving through her body. He didn't hold back. All the muscular force of his jaws went into chewing her, the crunch of her spine echoing all throughout the cave and into the outside wilderness. And he followed up with another, and another, grinding and gnashing at her body, propelling gore and chunks of meat from his jaws as he gnawed her to shreds. One bite at a time.

She was squirting for him again, but this time not so happily. Her blood was positively spraying out on each bite, panting down the golden side of his scales. Where he was already red, it just blended in. He didn't swallow any of her just yet. He let all the ruined chunks build up, mashed to paste and pieces there on his tongue while he slurped in more of her to work on. Her free leg fell limp after the third crunch, just dangling there from his lips, and he sucked it in to pulverize between his teeth along with the other. They didn't quite get severed, just mashed right up, left attached as shreds of skin and ruined bits of bone. Turned to paste by his brutal chews, stuffing his cheeks full of mashed up hyena meat.

He couldn't tell if she was still alive by then, but she was twitching. He knew her species could handle a whole lot of punishment, but he wouldn't have blamed her for expiring so quickly. There was no savouring her anymore. No taking his time to enjoy the taste. Only the chomping, the munching, the grinding of her flesh and bones into a tasty slurry to start gulping down in little bits. He saved her skull for last, lining it up between two teeth and impaling it in a single bite. It shattered open, pouring out its contents, letting him shove his tongue into her cranium and scoop out the treat within. Her face got pulped up with the rest of her with a few more mastications, and the thought of that kept his fat dick dripping.

When it came to finishing her off, he made sure to chew thoroughly, getting every single solid chunk he could find. He did it with his mouth open, rudely squishing and smacking his lips as he made a great big mess of himself in the process, flinging blood and chunks. Long strands of crimson painted the outside of his throat while he drank the rest of the warm fluid right down. He kept working her like that a while, not wanting it to be over, wanting to find one more piece, one more scrap of former Kee to smash between his teeth. They were soaked in red, and his drool mingled with the blood, hanging in sticky ropes from his lips when he finally gulped her down. And such bliss it was to close his eyes, tilt his head back, and send her ruined body into his gullet in one deep swallow, not even bulging her way inside him.

The belch that rumbled out of him was as wet and crude as dragons got. Gore splattered on the walls of his lair as he bellowed out that sloppy bworrrrp. After that, all that was left to do was lick his lips and teeth, and see about getting cleaned up in time. He sat there rubbing at his dick, listening to his belly gurgling and churning at the meat he'd claimed. She wasn't all that filling really, but she was so much fun to fuck and eat that she'd given him a boner with her twitching, gushing end

Just the memory of how she'd crackled for him, of the sounds of her bones breaking between his teeth was enough to get him jerking off. He clenched his bloody teeth and snarled through them as he grunted in delight, stroking at his cock madly and thrusting up against his toes. That meant grinding on his own belly, feeling the grumbles it was giving beneath his scales as it sagged so slightly lower with her weight. She was all his now, chewed up and digesting, and it was that thought that finally made him cum.

He painted his gut with rope after rope as he shook and growled there in his lair, making the walls themselves shift with the power of his orgasm. His scales were swiftly soaked in the cream he produced, milked out more by thoughts than his own stroking. He even let got of his dick to just rub and pat at his belly while his last near boiling jets spurted out, steaming. She felt as good inside him as she did dripping down his scales. At least she got her wish. She really did end up going on an adventure. It just so happened a lot of adventures ended in getting eaten and digested by plump and hungry dragons.

Chapter VI

(Shade1)

The mansion was a lot smaller than it looked from the outside. Just a short stroll, and Spike was already finding his way back into the open air. The door he opened hadn't looked at all like it led to the exterior, but the gust of chilly air across his features told him he had accidentally stumbled upon an exit. It was colder than before, too. Whereas a dragon like him had hardly even needed jacket when they arrived on the pleasant fall evening , he was finding the chill getting to him. Like it could somehow just pierce through his scales and wrap around his bones themselves.

He thought to simply turn around and step back into the relative comfort of the spooky house, but he couldn't help but be entranced by what he saw. There wasn't much light, but the moon illuminated the blazing red leaves on the branches above as they stretched across the sky, forming something like a canopy. It was darker the deeper he walked, moving his feet automatically A tap of a button, and he was looking at the scene through a green filter, letting him see in the dark thanks to the camera's nightvision. Good thing he'd charged the battery in preparation of the night.

There was just one problem. He'd been looking through that camera the whole time, so focused on it that he hadn't even noticed he was wandering off from everyone else. That didn't seem possible. They had been right there just a few seconds ago. But when he turned around, there was no one. And nothing. Not a door, nor an empty room. Simply more forest, stretching on as far as his emerald-tinged vision could show him. Something had gone very wrong. And he was cold.

A terrible wind cut through those trees, knocking leaves from them to flutter down to Spike's feet. He shivered as he walked. There really was no choice but to continue on in search of shelter. He thought about doubling back, but that just didn't make sense to him for whatever reason. He had already come this far. Though the night was thick between those trees, he couldn't help but push on. Even when he heard the first crunch of hard-packed snow beneath his feet.

He was pretty sure it wasn't that cold yet. It was very early in the year for a storm. But there he was, trudging through a frozen forest. The leaves had all fallen, leaving only barren branches, coated with solid ice. Like it had rained, only to suddenly freeze over. The whole place was slippery, sodden, and dangerously cold. He had to lower the camera for a while just to wrap his arms around himself, shivering as he moved slowly forward, feeling an increasing need to just lie down, to curl up and sleep it all away. But everything he'd ever read in a survival guide told him he couldn't let himself do that, no matter how hard the wind was blowing. He had to keep going.

Maybe he was afraid, but he couldn't let that get to him either. He was lost in the cold and the dark, far away from his friends on a Halloween's eve. His sense of direction was useless when everything looked the same. There were only dead trees and ice, his footprints spoiling the fresh, untouched snow. Nothing else had walked there yet. Not a person, nor even an animal. Only him. He didn't even remember there being this much forest just outside the city limits, but it was hard to focus. The cold was starting to make his thoughts all foggy. Maybe he was even hallucinating, because he thought he could hear voices. But they definitely didn't belong to any of his friends.

It started as a distant rumble, something so deep he felt it more than heard it. Like an oncoming train. As it got closer, it was most distinct, sounding more organic. A groaning, sustaining note, and then finally another, singing as slowly as it could. With it came the sound of snow loudly crunching, the frozen surface shattering beneath the weight of whoever was approaching. And something rattled. It was a dull, wooden sound, like someone playing an old primal form of percussion. It mixed with the distressing wail to almost musical effect. With it came a feeling. A presence, an aura, or an energy. Spike didn't know how he knew it, but he simply understood in that moment that he was dealing with something more than natural.

He stood frozen for a time, the cold making it so easy to just remain, to neglect running in favour of shivering on the spot. So much of him was told that he wasn't sure how much farther he could have made it on his own anyway. But as the cacophony came close, his heart sped up, and his body felt warmer. It was wafting heat. Welcoming, soothing, thawing out his frozen limbs and letting him stop shivering. Such warmth made him want to stop, to embrace it, to give himself to the wailing one no matter how poorly it turned out for him. With the feeling returning to his hands, Spike managed raised the camera just in time to catch a glimpse of the beast, the sickly green shade of the image captured through the lens only adding to his terrifying appearance.

It was like a twisted corruption of what used to be a deer. The cold was gone, banished by the monster's presence, but Spike was frozen once again. The creeping horror in his veins held him in place as surely as if his whole body was coated in solid ice. His eye went wide upon the lens, locked in an unblinking stare as he filmed up and down the white fur of the naked monster hunching before him. Its skull was bare, all exposed bone and wicked fangs, locked into a perpetual snarl without any lips to hide them. Four empty sockets might have been eyes, but they held only darkness.

The monster appeared male, judging by the antlers. They were like tangled brambles, bent and sharp, their many points decorated with dangling totems and bones. That explained the clattering. More obvious were his exposed genitals, dormant but resting there, a soft sheath upon his balls, exposed to the elements. He was all clad in white fur, or at least it seemed that way with how brightly it reflected in the camera's filter. And he was big. Even in that hunching stance he towered over Spike, and some of the trees themselves. His hair dangled smoothly over his shoulders, down to a broad and powerful chest. Some parts of him were dense, muscular, and others were frightfully lean. A clear outline of his ribs contrasted with his strength.. And his tongue hung freely from his jaws, dripping something thicker than saliva. Spike could outright hear it pattering to the snow below as the slouching, unnatural creature loomed close.

Wendigo. That was the word. Spike was getting plenty of clear footage while he lingered, out of his senses. Only when he felt the heated breath of the monster did he snap out of it. He ran. There was no other option in his head. He was looking into the empty eyes of a monster, lost there in the dark. The moonlight was gone, leaving only his camera as guidance as he charged his way through the icy trees, listening to the guttural growls mixed in with wordless whispers just behind him. The wendigo was giving chase, down on all fours, scraping through the snow to catch him. Spike had never ran so quickly, bearing down low to the ground as he sprinted with all his might, all his fear, knowing that slowing for even a second meant certain death. Snarls like that didn't announce friendly intentions.

He didn't even manage to wind himself before he felt a heavy weight strike him in the back. The camera fell from his hands, leaving him in almost complete darkness as he cried out and collapsed into the snow, kicking up a freezing mist of powder. He rolled over, getting himself soaking wet as he tried to shield himself, getting his legs up to kick at the aggressor. Those snarls turned into something much more piercing, into a screaming wail that was unbearable to listen to. Spike covered his ears as he laid there, unable to see what was coming at him until he felt the fangs. They were not gentle. He felt biting, crushing, and then tearing. All he had was sound and sensation as his body was effortlessly, brutally shredded by bite after bite, pulling great mouthfuls of his flesh and insides and swallowing them right down. He could hear the gulping. At least the pain was mostly numbed by the freezing cold. But he could feel himself bleeding. First a trickle, then a damning flow. He knew he wasn't going to survive such damage for long, even if he got away. And when he could feel the wind upon his exposed innards, he knew that wasn't likely.

It was hard to even properly comprehend how much was happening to him, especially as his body began to shut down. But it was severe. He knew that much. He was being tossed about by the beast's brutality, limply flopping back to the snow on release. Nothing more than a ragdoll, with chunks of flesh torn from him with each bite. The wendigo was mostly focused on his legs, tearing the flesh from his very bones. And those couldn't stand up to that hunger either. Even over the terrible growls that filled his ears, he could hear them break. Not just snapped off, but utterly crushed, nothing more than splinters, dust there upon the snowflakes. He even felt a slurp, a primal sucking as the monster drank his marrow. As all the gnawing continued, he soon found himself with nothing below the thighs. Just shreds, stumps, his legs completely eaten, nothing more than meat inside the creature's belly.

Facedown in the snow, with only his arms left to move with, he began to crawl. Slowly inching away through the thickly accumulating puddle of his own blood, soaking, shaking, he tried to cry out for his friends, only to feel those teeth around his throat. They choked out all words in a crushing grip, lifting him into the air. That bite wasn't quite enough to end it, but it wasn't going to be long. He couldn't breathe, and he'd lost an immense amount of blood. The monster seemed briefly hesitant, breathing heavily through his skinless nose as he clutched his prey. Spike felt hot fluids running down his remaining body as he dangled there, mangled but not hurting. Merely dripping. There were already great chunks missing, great big bites taken out of him. He couldn't see but he could even feel his insides slipping out through those holes in him. The wounds were already deep enough to ensure he wasn't getting back up. He couldn't even raise his hands all the way, shakily lifting them only to let them drop back to his sides. He felt those teeth, sharper than his own, digging deep into the scales of his throat. But he didn't feel the final bite.

Instead, there was warmth, and crackling. He thought it was his own bones at first, but it was more mundane than that. He was laying by a small, flickering campfire. The coals burned brightly in the darkness, hurting his eyes until they adjusted. He lay there on damp, dead grass, gazing into the flames. The snow had melted in an almost perfect circle around the fire, and as long as he stayed there, he felt safe and sheltered from the cold all around him. It took him some time before he managed to sit up.

The first thing he did was inspect his body for any sign of wounds or damage. He knew he hadn't been imagining things. Those fangs had pieced his scales as easily as if they were nothing more than common skin. Yet as he ran his fingers over the places where he remembered feeling the bites, he couldn't find a single mark. Not even a scar. He was intact as ever, left dazed and lost as before, but alive despite the crunchy fate he felt like he had only just suffered. And he couldn't sit there considering the impossible reality forever, because he once more could heard the distant crunch of hooves upon the snow.

There was nothing more to do but to grab a burning branch from the fire and hope he found a place to hide before it was too late. The heat didn't bother a dragon like him, and it provided the light he needed to ensure he didn't trip over anything or simply crash headlong into a tree. When he turned away from the fire, his new torch illuminated a message left scrawled for him. It was smeared across the snow in red, the blood still bright and flesh as it twinkled in the torchlight, revealed one letter at a time.

I AM SORRY.

THE HUNGER IS STRONG.

Spike stood there, considering for a while. With no one else making themselves known in those woods, he had to assume the message was from the wendigo himself. But what good did it do him? An apology wasn't much when the creature fully intended to consume him. Again. At least, Spike assumed so, listening to those hooves growing closer, the rattling becoming audible along with the slow groan of incomprehensible song. He set out once more, swiftly, pushing past frozen branches, sometimes snapping them right off in his haste.

He could jog, or even sprint, but he couldn't go faster than the monster. It wasn't long of fleeing that he looked back over his shoulder and saw him there. He stood as tall as the largest of trees, bending them aside effortlessly as he pursued his prey in a straight line. Or maybe it was more than bent out of his way instead. He was slightly less lanky than before. His meal had filled him out. But he was still lean, still showing ribs and bones beneath his skin. He was still hungry.

Spike backed away until he found himself up against an icy tree. He knew he could have kept running, but he hoped to get a better look at his assailant this time. The wendigo bent double as he approached, coming down to all fours and slowly crawling forth. He clutched at himself now and then, rumbling in his throat, almost seeming to chant. Spike could tell he looked hungry, hunched by the pains it caused. He felt sympathy - but he was still the one cornered by a wendigo, watching him lurch closer and closer, black goo dripping from between his teeth.

He thought about swinging his torch, trying to drive the rabid beast away as if he were nothing more than an animal. But animals didn't leave messages in the snow. So instead he slowly raised his hands, making a calming gesture of surrender. He wasn't running, he wasn't hiding. He simply let the snarling monster walk towards him, pounding those split hooves in the snow as if to break the very ground beneath him with his weight. Just standing near like that, he could feel the heat coming off the white-furred creature as before.

Finally, though his voice shook a little, Spike managed to clear his throat and speak.

"I don't want to fight you. I just want to understand what's going on. Didn't you already eat me, or did I dream that?"

The wendigo seemed startled by that, stopping and crouching there before his prey. His voice was surprisingly soft.

"You did not dream it."

"And you're going to do it again?"

"Yes."

Spike bit his lower lip at that thought. "The last time wasn't exactly pleasant. Maybe you can be gentler this time?"

"I am not much in control when the hunger is here," the wendigo said quietly. "But I will try."

"I'm not mad at you. I'm Spike," the dragon said, and even tried to offer a smile.

"I know. I am Oghden." He slowly tilted his bare skull to the side, regarding his meal. "They do not usually introduce themselves this early."

"I'm not scared. Well, not a lot. I understand that you're hungry. But maybe I can distract you with your other appetites first."

Spike gave an obvious look lower on the wendigo's body. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like, to be wrapped up in the embrace of a monster, to experience the pleasures of that bestial lust. If it was anything like his hunger, then he had to wonder if his body could even handle it. Oghden seemed to confirm such worries.

"You do not want to do that."

"Maybe I do! You don't know."

The wendigo stepped closer, reaching out his claws to touch the dragon's cheek. Spike didn't flinch. Mostly. They were alarmingly sharp, probably capable of simply pulling his scales right off without much effort. But he stood his ground, feet freezing in the snow. He felt warmer the closer Oghden got.

"You will not likely survive it."

Spike shrugged. "I mean, you're going to eat me anyway, right?"

"Yes."

"But I'm going to be alright? Later on?"

"Yes."

Then he just grinned. "Well, then there's no reason we can't have some fun first! If you can wait that long for your meal anyway."

He felt a grip on his shoulder, then his arm. Oghden tugged him close, letting him feel the heat that came from his snow-coloured fur. All the cold, all the winds and icy were banished as long as he was close to that tall beast, feeling his embrace, and his claws dragging down his back. They could have hurt him, but they didn't. Not yet.

Instead, he found himself pinned down beneath that heated weight. He couldn't see much once he dropped his torch, the flames flickering nearby. Just a glimpse of the beast upon him. Instead, it was all about the sensations. The sounds. The touch. The scent of snow and fur. He felt something being torn, but it was only what he wore. His scales were bare beneath the wendigo's body, and he soon felt them up against that dense fur.

Oghden's shaft had a knot. He discovered that when he felt it thumping up against his own cock. The wendigo was thrusting, grinding. He didn't speak anymore. He was all snarls, dripping that strange black ooze from his jaws to patter to the snow around them while he mounted the dragon. That same substance clung to his member, making for plenty of lube. Which was good, because he wasn't wasting any time in claiming Spike. The dragon found himself folded right in half, his legs spread and hefted high up over his head as he was pinned and mounted in a brutal mating press.

Penetration was swift and slick, ramming inside of him all at once. That knot thudded against his backside and he could barely even manage to gasp. All the air was just knocked out of him at once. He felt those claws on his shoulders, those jaws only a few inches above his head as Oghden curled his body downwards, arching his spine to get a proper angle to pound. It was barely rhythmic, simply rough, feral rutting, harder and harder, testing the limits off the dragon's body with every ruthless spank.

It had Spike hard, but he couldn't move much. He was completely overpowered, and everything was only getting harsher. Those claws scraped him. Those jaws snapped at the air, closer and closer to his head. And that knot wasn't going to stay on the outside. With every thud, every battering ram impact, he spread the dragon's tight hole out a little more, until he just forced that slick bulb right through. That got a cry from Spike, leaving him squirming for a time, but he still endured, still held up to the onslaught even if it was getting increasingly hard to feel his legs.

Being knotted wasn't going to slow Oghden down any. He just kept yanking that fat bulge back and forth, ramming it deeper into the dragon's insides only to yank back and do it again. Spike felt himself being fucked stupid, the impact rattling his brain until he could barely think, only feel. Some of it was uncomfortable, his body getting battered and bruised by the violent fuck, but there was pleasure too. Spike did his best to focus on that as the torch flickered away, leaving the two of them in utter darkness. There wasn't even a trace of moonlight. Just the sounds of bodies slapping and grinding together, of feral snarling and the dragon's muted whimpers.

The darkness only made everything more intense. He heard every little sound. The scrape of claws, the clack of teeth above him as Oghden hungrily gnawed the air. He could even hear the wendigo's stomach rumble. And it was no ordinary belly noisel. It was a heavy and ferocious growl, one that sounded almost threatening. Spike knew that a good mating wasn't going to leave him starving any less. If anything, he was only working up the monster's appetite. But he was alright with that if it meant getting more of that broad cock driving into him, pounding him so hard he could feel it in his own teeth and skull, the tremors of impact rolling all the way up his spine while his moans echoed through the empty forest, weak but constant.

He couldn't last for long, in more than one sense. Spike felt something within him give way, some bone that snapped or just collapsed into dust. It went along with a brief shock of pain before his leg was utterly numb. But there was his climax as well. Forced out of him by the grinding of that knot against his prostate. He couldn't possibly resist. It took over his entire body, tingling, clenching, shaking through his muscles. Even as he heard his body started to crunch, start to break under the unrelenting force, he still achieved a fantastic orgasm, blasting his cum all over his belly, his chest, his own face, over and over, all milked out by that perfectly merciless fuck.

Oghden came too. He just lunged into it, the hardest thrust of all, like a spear through his spine. Spike heard something else go crunch. It was starting to sound like his body was made of potato chips. But he felt the heat, intensely pouring out inside him as that knotted wendigo cock bulged and filled him with seed. He was left squirming helplessly, feeling so much of his body numb, but the cum he could feel at every point. Pumped into his backside, all the way up into his belly until he was sloshing full, absolutely stuffed with the heavy, oozing, potent stuff.

Then they were just left panting together. Oghden's breaths were ragged, feral. Spike's was barely more than a shaky whimper and gasp. He might have been paralyzed. He heard the rough pull out, but he didn't feel much of it. His legs flopped to the ground, numb, unfeeling. But he still felt it when those claws dug into his shoulders and hefted him right up in the air, as if weightless. He couldn't see the wendigo's face, but he could feel his breath. Steaming hot in his face, accompanied by the slick crack of his tongue curling around the dragon's throat. And squeezing.

No hesitation, no warning or words. Only the hunger. Spike tried his best to understand. In his broken state, he wasn't thinking much at all anyway. He was fucked too stupid to fear. Even when he felt those jaws framing his face, his head, his throat. There was no biting this time, aside from a bit of gnawing. Spike heard swallowing, and he felt a rush of thick saliva or ooze or whatever that was sliding past his face. Then there was the powerful grip of the wendigo's throat. Nothing could escape from such a mighty squeeze. Especially not a broken, nearly mindless dragon.

He went sliding down without much effort at all on Oghden's part. It took just a smooth gulp to drag him inwards, one that massaged or crushed him. Maybe both at once. His body was broken, shattered in ways that were surely going to be fatal even if left uneaten. But that wasn't going to matter. The deeper he got, the further that numbness spread, leaving all the crunches and crackles of his bones little more than just sounds. He didn't feel it anymore. Only warmth, and pressure, as he listened to the gulping growing more distant. And the gurgling coming closer.

His head fit inside of Oghden's throat with ease, but the rest of him gave no trouble either. His shoulders, his chest, his stomach. Soon he was breathing the wendigo's own breath - something like a warm summer wind to feel, but scented like frigid winter. Every inch of himself that he felt consumed was at rest. Soothed by the heat, slipping into submission, into acceptance, while the rest of him still protruding from those bony jaws felt dangerously cold. He wanted to be eaten faster, to fill and join with the monster's body as quickly as he could. When he caught the scent of the wendigo's stomach, he welcomed it, sighing deeply as his muzzle spread that last sphincter and he splashed down into a thick, almost tar-like goo within.

It didn't smell like acids in his gut. More like something damp, something slimy, wet. It was so humid inside there that he could barely breathe, and that viscous substance clinging to his face didn't make it any easier. He waited for his arms to squish inside and then wiped at his face, managing to gasp a little more clearly. Not that it was going to matter much. As soon as he splashed down in there completely, his feet vanishing between the creature's teeth, slurped and shoved at with his tongue, the churning began. And it was just as ruthless as the rutting. He felt his body being crushed inwards, forced into a tighter and tighter form until his insides couldn't hold up. It was a thrilling thing to feel his body dying, function by function as he was messily digested by acids stronger than anything that ought to exist. Especially inside a living creature.

He sizzled and burned away, patches of him melting off to expose the broken bones beneath. The cum inside his stomach was soon leaking out as he was punctured by digestion, pulled apart and opened up at the same time as being drowned, crushed, and suffocated. In those final heated moments spent trapped inside the wendigo, violently, involuntarily twitching his last with what remained of his muscles, he felt a strange rush of ecstasy. A rich, pure feeling, unaffected by his numbness, spreading through all that remained of him, tingling down his damaged spine. He was being converted into fuel, into another meal for an immense and eternal hunger, and all he could feel was bliss. Until he finally sighed, wrecked and ruined by the digestive process, left to slump down and be absorbed into the body of the beast.

--

Spike awoke as he had before. It was dark all around but for the fire. His body was intact. He had felt himself die that time, felt himself being digested there within the wendigo's gut. Part of him had to wonder if he was even himself, or simply a copy with the memories of before. And he was alone as ever, basking in the warmth of the flames. They were warmer than before, enough to almost banish the horrors of winter around him. He sat up and inspected himself for damage once more, feeling entirely intact. Perhaps even better than before. His joints were feeling soothed, the tension in his muscles gone. Like he'd received a professional massage. But it definitely hadn't felt like one.

He didn't hear Oghden in the distance this time. But he did feel his breath, sweltering hot as ever. It was right on the back of his neck. He whirled around in shock to find the wendigo simply sitting there behind, crosslegged in the snow, hanging his head and looking solemn. Spike reached out to him, risking a pat on the head between those many antlers. His hair was silky soft.

"Hey, why do you look so sad? That was fun!"

"I went too far," the wendigo meekly said. "And I enjoyed it too much."

"Pssh!" Spike waved it off. "I mean, you went wild, but that's exactly what you said you were going to do! I've never had an experience like that before. I just hope it helped you with your hunger and all that."

"Yes. I am sated for now." Oghden reached down to something at his side, and then offered Spike his own camera back. "This is for you. Your tape is there. But it will only work once. This is all I am comfortable with."

The dragon took it and turned it over in his hands a few times. He wondered if the footage was still there. Opening up the screen, he rolled back to the start and began scanning through. All was intact, green as ever, and he had to flinch when he came across a perfect shot of his own body being torn to pieces. He must have dropped the camera right beside himself when Oghden caught him the first time. There was plenty of biting and tearing going on long after he had bitten off his head, the wendigo tearing into him until he was little more than bloody bones in the snow. And even those he finished off, breaking them free and crunching on them loudly. The camera got it all, and Spike couldn't help but watch, mystified, if slightly shocked.

He still remembered what it felt like to be digested alive. The speed was once of the most alarming parts. Once he'd watched all the way to the end of Oghden's first meal, seeing every single scrap of his body consumed by those deadly jaws, blood smeared and drying upon his skull, he got to watch the digestive process from the outside this time. The wendigo rested, holding his meal, feeling over his stretched belly. Round and full of chewed dragon meat, tightening, shrinking, flattening. All within a minute, as if Spike had never been there. Only the stain upon the snow remained of him.

Except for one thing. He might have been a monster, but Oghden was still alive, still processing meat like any other creature. And he didn't fully move off camera, either. His body had processed and absorbed Spike so quickly that he was already ready to get rid of him, and so he simply stayed near the tree to do so. Squatting low, he outright picked up his dragging tail in his hands, holding it over his shoulder like a scarf while he began to squeeze what remained of the digested dragon out into the snow. Maybe it was just the camera's lighting, but the messy pile he had been turned into was so dark he could barely see it. Just a pitch black pile of wendigo shit stacking up in coils, smoothly squeezed out and melting the snow beneath with its warmth.

He was efficient. Of course he was. Though just in case Spike wasn't sure the mess was really himself, he saw little bits of his own bones, all mangled and crunched up of course but still slightly intact as they left the creature's body. It all made for an impressive mound, a great pile that stacked up near half as high as the dragon stood. His own skull was barely intact, missing the jawbone and part of the cranium, but Spike got to see his own empty eye sockets all packed with waste as it got pushed out to top the pile. Locked in a perpetual jawless scream, it rested right on top of the whole dump, becoming a monument, a grim warning to all who trespassed in that impossible snowy realm.

There was more footage than he remembered, too. He saw his own face, watched himself in the forest, terrified and fleeing. And each time he was caught and devoured. It happened again and again, like time was simply looping around on itself, letting him fall prey to the wendigo in new and gruesome ways each time. Sometimes whole, sometimes in pieces, sometimes in shreds. But they all ended the same way. With his body vanishing within Oghden, digested in mere seconds and converted into another pile as before. He couldn't remember any of it, but he didn't try to understand why. Surely there were reasons.

Spike had to admit he was a bit flustered just watching it all. Just to see himself taken down, used, feasted upon. So many attempts at escape, and he still got shat out by the monster each time until he had finally turned to face him. It didn't exactly show on scales how worked up that thought got him, but his expression was probably a giveaway. Even in the dark. He saw Oghden looking at him, looming ominously but with a neutral expression. As best those fangs could manage anyway. He had a face this time. He'd grown it back, or was wearing it, however it worked. That mean there were soft, deerish features where a bare skull used to be. His eyes were still completely dark, all four of them. It was funny how timid he could look like that, for all his fangs and ferocity.

Spike finally just tipped his head to the side, tapping on the camera as the display went fuzzy.

"But why do you have to delete it? This is ... pretty damn hot, actually. I bet a lot more people would like to see this. Probably get involved too! You could have a lot more customers. So to speak."

He was briefly startled by just the slight darkening of the wendigo's expression. The skin pulled taut around his features, letting the bone beneath show through.

"I am not looking to make money."

"Not for money. I mean more just ... what you do out here. Wherever we are. You don't have to hide. There are a lot of people into this kind of thing. Especially if they get to walk away afterwards like nothing happened."

Oghden relaxed, and was silent. He dipped his head down for a time, and finally just shrugged his narrow shoulders.

"Perhaps they're almost ready." He spoke it very quietly, mostly to himself before raising his voice to something more audible. "You are free to go. I cannot say the same of your friends. Their fates are their own on this dark evening."

"Will I see you again?"

"Perhaps. Listen carefully. I will call. When I am ready."

Spike only needed to glance to the side and the forest was open before him. The snow had receded and there were leaves again. He almost didn't want to leave his new friend. If he could call the monster that. He had pretty much already decided as much. But a glance over at the solemn, slouching creature, and he could tell that Oghden preferred to be alone in a time like this. He looked guilty and apologetic, but no apology was needed.

After all, he'd made it out alive. Even if he'd died a few deaths in that forest, torn apart or digested or simply broken, he had survived the night without any permanent scars. Even the memory of the experience was going to be a fond one, an arousing one even. He stood, feeling renewed, energetic. All his cares had been eaten away. It was so oddly therapeutic. He felt good enough that he was pretty sure he could find his way home. It just seemed that he might have been doing so alone. The night had passed and the manor was quiet. There was no sign or sound of the rest of the group, leaving him just to wonder what might have happened to them as the forest closed back up behind him, vanishing as soon as he looked away.