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Kvatch was making his way towards the sanctum of the Horned Rat with a heart filled with apprehension. A few minutes ago, a plague monk had stopped by his cell to inform the young novice that the abbot wanted to see him at once for his first private lesson. He had humbly asked the monk if he knew what that lesson would consist of, but the diseased rat had simply grinned before shuffling away.

The uncertainty was making Kvatch anxious. The acute pain in his rear from the humiliating initiation ceremony the day before had mostly faded but it had been replaced by an odd tickling sensation in his entrails that wouldn't go away. He briefly thought about inventing some sort of excuse to escape the summons of his new teacher but quickly decided against it. The priest would be angry if he did. In any case, after what he had already endured, the worst was certainly behind him. Or so he hoped.

The sanctum itself was a small room at the end of a tunnel and was hidden behind a heavy curtain. The brown-furred rat stopped in front of the entrance and announced himself in a fashion that he hoped would sound suitably humble and fearful.

• "Oh great pestilent one, the miserable maggot-meat Kvatch has come-scurried here at your request."

After a few seconds, a croaking but strangely friendly voice bid him in. He hesitated for a moment, gathered his courage, drew the curtain aside and entered. The room was illuminated by a warpstone brazier that emitted a sickly greenish light and was empty save for an altar draped with a dirty cloth crudely stamped with the three-sided symbol of the Horned One. The priest himself was standing in front of the altar with his back turned to the door. The novice quickly prostrated himself and waited for his master to acknowledge his presence. He did not dare look up without permission but he heard him slowly turn around and cough up a ball of phlegm on the filthy ground before he spoke again.

• "Ah yes, you have been fast-swift. A most eager-diligent disciple you are. Good-good. But please stand up so I can see you better."

Kvatch stood up hesitantly and remained immobile as the priest stared at him. His teacher was dressed in ragged green vestments that were matted with all sorts of crusty stains and his face was hidden by a cowl. His tall body was almost entirely concealed beneath his robes but, from the way he had to support himself on a long crooked staff, Kvatch could tell he was very frail and emaciated. He noticed with disgust that his tail was covered in open sores.

Slowly and without a word, the old rat pulled back his cowl and revealed a leprous face from which large patches of skin had peeled off, exposing the diseased and blackened flesh underneath. The young disciple felt his anus clench and his musk glands contract instinctively as two milky white eyes weeping with pus bore directly into his own.

• "My eyes are not as good as they once were," the priest said, "but my nose is still sharp. Why don't you take these garments off so I can get a better sniff of your scent, yes-yes? Do not be shy, I have smelled far fouler things!"

The novice instantly felt his blood rushing to his nose and ears. His mind briefly raced again for an excuse to leave but he knew it was too late. Silently, he took off his robes, dropped them on the ground and covered his rathood as best as he could with his hands.

• "No-no, what did I tell you?" The disgusting thing laughed raspily as it grabbed Kvatch's wrists one after the other and gently pulled them aside. "No false-false modesty in my presence. We shouldn't have anything to hide from each other."

Feeling increasingly embarrassed, Kvatch forced himself to stand still as the rat dragged his carcass around him, lifted his tail, bent his head to the level of his hole and forced the tip of his cold, slimy nose inside his anus to breathe in his musk.

• "Ahhh, yes-yes, now I remember clearly. You were the first one to receive my communion during the ceremony, weren't you? Very tight-nervous you were, just as you are now. Is that a hint of fear I smell-sniff? Do not worry, you will soon learn to embrace my lessons."

His nose satisfied, the priest circled again several times around the novice, surveying him greedily from the tip of his perky ears to the claws of his gnarled feet. He stopped several times to grope his arms or buttocks with his long and sharp fingers or caress his fur with strange tenderness. The chill air was heavy with warpstone fumes from the brazier and the young rat, shivering as much from cold as from fright, was starting to feel light-headed. The inspection over, the elder mused to himself.

• "A mighty-good specimen. Lithe but healthy and well-fed. You will make a wonderful vessel for the blessings of the lord of decay."

For the first time, Kvatch dared to open his mouth.

• "A... a vessel you say-squeak, Oh most putrescent one?"

• "Indeed, my young novice-friend. We are the only ones who truly embrace the Horned Rat's message of decay-rot. It is our sacred duty to receive his holy corruption in our bodies, to cultivate it and to spread it to the wider world. Here, let me show you so you can understand-see."

The plague cleric positioned himself in front of his disciple. Slowly, he unfastened his robes and revealed his body. Kvatch involuntarily recoiled and shut his eyes in revulsion. The skin was covered in tufts of patchy, matted fur and in open wounds that were oozing a yellowish fluid. Not wanting to offend his master, he forced himself to reopen his eyes and look again. This time, he noted that, despite the general deterioration of the body, the groin looked less decayed than the surrounding areas. The sheath was still fleshy and two large, swollen testicles were dangling right below it.

• "Yes-yes," their owner cackled, "as you have not failed to notice, these parts tend to remain in a more, ah, functional state than the rest. But it is necessary, for these are the tools with which we spread the blessings of our god. But why don't you have a closer look? Please go on your knees and do not be afraid to touch."

To his own surprise, Kvatch did exactly that and dragged himself close to his master's genitals. The two heavy orbs were dangling right in front of his muzzle. He raised a trembling hand and cupped them, feeling their weight and texture. They felt like they were brimming with a substance that was both virulent and teeming with unnatural vigour. He ventured to give them a light squeeze but immediately drew back his hand as if it was burnt by his irreverent action. He cowered on all fours, ready to squeal a plea for mercy to his wrathful master. The priest, however, was simply leering at him with a lustful smile.

• "See how they are filled with the ichor of our god? Soon I will share it with you. But the holy-sacred fluid needs an instrument to dispense it. Please inspect it as well."

Kvatch's eyes were now fixated upon the sheath. He brought his nose close to its base and took a long sniff. The smell was foul but strangely intoxicating. Possessed by a sudden urge, he grasped it with his hand and started stroking it up and down. He felt the long rod inside swell and soon the tip of the sheath parted to reveal a sticky length that grew and kept growing. Its colour wasn't a healthy pink like the erection that Kvatch was himself now sporting but an aggressive crimson red that reeked of corruption. The novice grabbed the hot shaft and felt it pulsate unnaturally between his fingers. Already, the tip was oozing little streams of foul liquid that dribbled messily on his fur.

• "Ahhh yes-yes... see how much progress we have made. But maybe you would like to drink-taste directly from the source?"

The young rat's reverie was interrupted and for a moment he hesitated. "Ugh, after where it's been yesterday?" he thought. Somewhere in his mind a voice was urging him to immediately turn tail and flee, consequences be damned. But the thought of inserting that rod of corruption into his body again was strangely pleasant. He wavered for a few seconds and then opened his maw. Taking great care not to rub the throbbing member against his sharp teeth, he guided it inside until it rested on his tongue.

During his four years of life in the warren, Kvatch had had to put quite a few dirty things in his mouth in order to survive but this was simply too much. The sour, putrid taste of the unwashed dick was beyond revolting and the small amount of semen that was leaking from the piss hole was already causing a horrible burning sensation on his tongue and throat. He gagged and choked before jerking his head backwards and dropping to his hands. He retched and spat several times before doubling over and vomiting a pool of bile onto the floor. He instantly felt better knowing that the vile substance was out of his body but his relief was short-lived. Panic gripped his heart as he realized the enormity of the insult he had just given his teacher. He prostrated himself and grovelled for forgiveness.

• "This miserable worm is undeserving of your blessings Oh great corruptor. Please have mercy on this weak-meat and allow him to disappear from your sight forever."

He was sincerely hoping that his master would indeed defrock him on the spot. The spell that had momentarily taken hold of him was broken and he didn't want to have anything to do with clan Pestilens anymore. But he knew that he would be very lucky to be allowed to get away so easily. It was far more likely that the furious priest was simply going to beat him to death on the spot or dissolve his flesh with a spell.

Kvatch waited several agonizing seconds for the blow that would fatally strike him. That blow did not come. Instead, the astonished novice felt a hand pat him between the ears and heard a reassuring voice speak to him.

• "There, my dear-dear disciple, do not scourge yourself so much. It is I who should be begging you for your pardon-forgiveness. You are obviously a very promising student and in my eagerness to teach you I may have gone a bit too fast. The gifts of the Horned Rat are mighty-potent and it takes time for even the most talented among us to be ready to accept-receive them."

• "So, you are not furious-angry my master?" Kvatch said while looking up cautiously, still half-fearing a trick.

• "Of course not. As I said, it is I who lacked patience. This is a lesson that we will try again another time, when you are ready-prepared. In the meantime, I still owe you a blessing."

Quickly, the priest grabbed his still hard member and stroked himself with fast jerks while thrusting with his hips. He came almost immediately with a croaking groan and shot out several long thick ropes of yellowish semen out of the tip of his cock, coating the head, arms and back of the cowering apprentice below him. Some of the gooey mess fell on Kvatch's sensitive ears and muzzle and instantly made the contaminated skin itch horribly. He silently thanked the Horned Rat that none of it had gotten into his eyes. Meanwhile, the priest was still grunting and squeezing a few drops from his rapidly softening penis. He finally breathed deeply and spoke.

• "Good-good. We have made excellent progress after all. I am sure you will make a fine-fine acolyte one day. You are now dismissed, I will see you tomorrow for another lesson. No, no need to be worried," he said smiling, "no physical exercises this time. We will simply study the sacred texts together. In the meantime, why don't you find yourself a quiet spot and meditate on what you have learned today?"

Kvatch thanked his master profusely, grabbed his robes and scurried out of the room as fast as decorum allowed. It was only after he was out of sight of the door, still naked, that he dared stop and wipe the sticky seed from his fur with a rag. He quickly put his robes back on. His mind was racing with frightened thoughts. This was certainly not what he had expected when he had left his clan to join the Pestilens order several weeks ago. He had to get out but how? The elder monks were keeping a close watch on the comings and goings of the novices and he was due to see the priest again tomorrow. The priest! Just thinking of that lecherous diseased old bag made him sick. He certainly didn't want to end up like him. Of course, on the other hand, he was powerful, and respected, and strangely friendly and...

The novice felt something dangling on his left whisker. He absent-mindedly touched it and realized that some of the unholy semen was still coating the long, stiff hair. His hand immediately reached for the piece of cloth in his pocket but stopped suddenly. He thought about what the old rat had told him and his mind became cloudy again. What if he...?

Lost in his thoughts, Kvatch licked his whiskers clean and felt a warm, sickly fire descend down his throat.