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While all my efforts are currently directed towards completing Legend, a while ago i wrote the first two chapters of a story that shows some of Killer's youth. This is a prequel to Legend, that i hope to eventually continue in the future, after the main story is complete. I hope you will find this interesting and enjoyable. As always, feel encouraged to drop comments and share your thoughts.

*Years before the events of Legend, a younger prince Killer is sent in the South to study at a Military Boarding School in Ire. The idea of Killer's father, king Seth Huxley of Kesteven, is to improve mutual understanding and put an end to years of "cold war" between Northlands and "prey species" of the South. *

Chapter 2 - Dear Professor

Killer smirked to himself as he turned around. His pants refused to come up fully, as his immense cock flexed a bit, and he lazily moved his hips to send that titanic mass of black meat smacking into the door to the ruined, stinky toilet, sending it slamming closed as that great mass of meat literally chipped a chunk of wood right off. He hummed a little under his breath, walking back into the main room while the heavy black shaft hung down literally past his knees, immense and monstrous and yet utterly relaxed, flaccid and arrogant in its ponderous swinging back and forth, throbbing with thick, cable-like veins that bulged all over the thick length. His pants, unzipped, had no problems staying up because what little part of that great anaconda of black-fleshed masculinity he had been able to force back inside them was already more than enough to stretch them out. And if that wasn't enough. His massive testicles hung low, two hypervirile tanks, as big as barrels, thrumming with power as they constantly churned out gallons upon gallons of hypervirile fluids and gigantic sperms. His heavy, wrinkled sac bulged with the goliath proportions of his balls and it pushed against his pants with such domineering force that there was no chance at all of them ever slipping away. He idly reached down and scratched into the thick forest of curly, tough hair that covered his crotch and finally gripped the immense base of his member, hefting up that great serpent of hyperpotent masculinity, loving how that great weight taxed his huge arm, and how that humongous girth stretched his fingers apart. Literal tons of masculine meat that, amusingly, professor Stormscale would have struggled to set into any kind of motion, and certainly would have never been able to lift.

Killer idly ran his hand down the huge length of dark flesh until it bumped against the fat, massive medial ring, and he snorted a little. He was here on a diplomatic mission and he had to behave. The relationship between North and South was more than bad enough without him stirring the waters... but it wasn't easy to take the southerners seriously when knowing for sure that they would have literally been unable to even shake the droplets off his cock after he took a piss. Here he was, lazily stroking his cock... and just like that, he was singlehandedly demolishing the southern record for weightlifting. It was hard to think of them as equals... especially when they arrogantly claimed to be superior. The thought was laughable.

He made a bit of a grimace as he studied the dormitory, empty and derelict. There was no shower in sight, of course... when this dormitory had been in use, conscripts were supposed to share the same row of showers into another hut that now didn't even exist anymore, demolished years earlier. Killer sighed and rolled his eyes slowly. If the locals continued to act that stupidly towards him, his stay would put his patience through a really demanding test. He figured that he'd have to make his way to the gym building every time he wanted to take a shower, and he had no difficulties imagining that said building would only be open within rigid timeframes, with which he was going to have to live. "For tonight, no shower, I'm afraid..." He muttered, making his way towards his Bergen, briefly considering the possibility of walking naked through campus, all the way to the gym, the following morning. The idea gave him a smile, but again he reminded himself that he was supposed to make things better, not worse, and causing scandal would not help in any way, especially if it also meant shattering forever the confidence of every other male in the campus. He squatted to open the Bergen, and grunted lightly as his heavy, massive flaccid shaft slammed onto the floor with a great thud of meat on wood, the thick foreskin slurping slightly back to reveal some of the rounded, enormous head. It was like an elephant trunk between his legs, snaking on the floor for several feet, and the old wooden planks creaked audibly and splintered, caving under the weight of just the tip of that monstrous member, while the barbs left visible indents in the wood. Killer couldn't help but grin slightly, resting his hands on his knees and shifting forwards a little just to allow some more of that huge mass to settle down, causing the floor to crack loudly.

He looked into the great Bergen and breathed in relief seeing that it had been handled as carelessly as possible, but at least not poured full of disgusting gunk or dunked in dirty water or vandalized in some other disgusting way. Part of him suspected that the Bergen had escaped that fate either because the guys handling it hadn't enough imagination to come up with those "jokes" or at least hadn't enough courage to actually try. They had clearly opened it and searched it for anything of value, and displaced all of his things, but he had sadly expected nothing less. There was nothing in the Bergen that he wasn't prepared to lose. The little things of value, his phone, his money and few others had been in his uniform for the whole travel. His father, of course, had wisely suggested to have him flown to Arkaley in a cargo plane of the air force, along with a car... but Killer, obviously, had stubbornly insisted on going with his bike, taking a travel of... what was it? Almost 1000 miles? He had a bag of clothes and a sleeping bag still on the bike, and with just the essentials he had taken the long road, trying to see as much of Ire as he could. Save for a tense meeting with very nervous Irenic guards, policemen and soldiers at the border, it had been a great travel. He had enjoyed every moment of it... but after passing the border, he had wisely made sure to avoid crossing any police patrol if he could. Ire clearly did not like having a northerner on its roads.

Nothing seemed to be missing, so he just put some order in his clothes before looking up at the roof of dark hut, which of course had no working lights. Probably no power at all, in fact.

The derelict dormitory was little better than sleeping outside in a foxhole on a battlefield, so poor was its state, but he didn't mind too much. He was used to hardship, as it was the very basis of his training... and in the seven years since his victory at Syrane, he had spent much of his days campaigning against the enemies of Kesteven. After all those battlefields, some of which had been simply atrocious because of snow and mud, he found that having an half-decent roof over his head was already a form of luxury. Besides, as he studied the structure he concluded that he could easily repair the building and build some comforts for himself in the free time between lessons. He was trained in a number of trades which went all the way up to advanced blacksmithing. A northerner was supposed to be able to take good care of a sword... or of any kind of blade in general. For a moment, he thought of his collection of weapons... and, of course, of THE weapon, Wyvern, the ancient, crimson-bladed sword that the kings and generals of Kesteven had carried into battle before him. Wyvern was his... and yet wasn't. He had had to hand it back to his father when he left home to come here. _From leading a whole army all the way back to being a cadet with a toy uniform... _

He sighed, then shook his head slowly. The discussions with his father had been long, and Seth had been very clear about the matter: nobody liked the idea, but it had to be done. His father had asked him to be patient and sacrifice himself for the good of the whole kingdom. Killer respected his father too much to protest any further, and he could not flee from his duty.

Still is crap, though.

He rapidly selected the best place where to place his sleeping bag, his mind automatically evaluating weather and ambient considerations as it had been trained to do... and then he straightened, smirking a little as his heavy, enormous shaft dragged loudly over the wood and then dangled heavily between his legs as he stood. He wrestled the immense shaft until he managed to push the fat, rounded head down one leg of his pants, and finally managed to pull them up, zipping them with a grunt as his glorious girth stretched them out to the point the zip barely accepted to move upwards.

He made his way towards one of the broken windows and easily pushed against the wooden planks nailed in place to shut it, sending it bursting off like a bullet, giving him a bit of vision over the surroundings.

He watched professor Stormscale jump into her car, and smirked a little as he tried to imagine what thoughts must be filling her mind... but then he noticed a large towing vehicle pulling up by his motorbike, and he cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes. There they were, the boys from earlier, welcoming the towing truck... and one of them, he was pretty sure, handed money to the truck's driver. There was no sign of any police or authority present, so it was more of a theft than anything else. After all, the bike had been parked there for mere minutes, there were no particular prohibitions signaled and even the professor had said he'd be fine for the night at least.

And yet the towing truck was there for his bike, that was definite. The chubby bear at the wheel took the money and then jumped down, hurriedly attaching tow lines to the enormous bike, and just as hurriedly leapt back up on his truck to leave. It definitely wasn't a fully legitimate thing; just another part of the shitty welcome that had been prepared for him.

The truck took to the road, taking the same direction that Terra's car had, but rushing away even faster. He saw the truck overtaking the professor's car, and he cursed before throwing open the door with enough force to almost send it and part of the wall flying off. He was probably not going to see his bike again if he allowed the corrupt trucker to get away.

He ran through the campus, his boots hammering the ground with enough force to almost make the ground shake, leaving deep and huge footprints behind as he picked up speed at a fearsome rate and easily ran around the main building, now closed and dark for the night, to race into the street.

His muscular legs worked with such power that it looked like he was kicking the earth into motion, forcing it to turn around to force his destination to come to him rather than simply running.

Terra recoiled in her seat, startled by the massive shape suddenly rushing into her field of view, and she gaped, hardly able to believe what she had seen. Her mind swam at it as she simply sat numbly in her car, her hands clutching the wheel, her body shaking as her eyes didn't dare to even look around, staring blankly at her steering wheel as she tried to process what had happened.

She remembered heading to her car. That much had been... normal, had made sense. She had gotten in her car. She had seen the tow truck roll by as she'd rolled out and started to drive away. She hadn't put together what it was here for, she had already been.... confused, lost, and not paying attention to anyone or anything, which meant she'd nearly sideswiped one of Alex's goons. She'd puttered her way around towards the exit, barely listening or aware of what was going on around her as she just tried to breathe, her mind still full of the images and noises of the prince's show of astounding, godlike virility...

And then out of nowhere, it was like the world had started shaking, like thunder had filled the air, and it had snapped her out of her trance. She had looked up, shocked, frightened, but somehow _excited _as that _glorious _tiger god had come suddenly out of the dormitories. And oh, he looked every inch a wrathful god in the night, under the light of the lamps. Massive, majestic, his naked chest beautiful and powerful, his muscles bulging, his eyes hard and glowing solid sapphire in the darkness, his movements so graceful and so strong as he made her car look motionless. There was no rage on his face, just what looked like mild irritation, but that was more than enough to frighten her, making her scream like a little girl as she hit the accelerator to try and escape from that huge colossus that seemed to be charging against her. She tried to run away, but she knew it was useless. Her little car squealed as it twisted back and forth before bolting forwards, but oh, that great machine of muscles made a mockery of her car's efforts as he steadily gained on her. It took him mere instants to catch up, and there he was, running _beside _her and she was such easy prey for him and there was nothing, _nothing at all _that she could do, and he was going to take her and ruin her and -

And then he was passing right by her, effortlessly overtaking her car, and oh, she stared at him, trembling, her body flexing, her eyes fluttering at that handsome young god, and her breath caught a little in her throat. She blushed and looked up at that hulking male, shirtless and glorious, his torso bare and bulging with his majestic musculature, and he smirked down at her and idly rose a hand up in a silent salute and apology for the scare. Just like that. Like he was doing the most natural of things... but oh, it was natural for him. He wasn't even trying. He wasn't even breaking a sweat. 65 miles an hour...? Ah! It clearly didn't even begin to give him a work out, because with a smirk he accelerated even further, leaving her car in the dust and effortlessly closing in on the truck.

She watched, numb and confused and always disappointed that she wasn't the target as he ran past and easily caught up to the truck. The truck, she realized a little late, that was hauling his massive motorcycle away. She let out a little whistle as a sort of little monster awakened in her mind as she thought: bad choice, mister Trucker. Part of her wanted to see the great God punish the worthless, puny being at the wheel of the truck. Part of her wondered what those muscles could do to a... she hesitated, then smirked a little as she thought: to a mortal.

She instinctively hit the brakes, staring at the truck as it helplessly accelerated, trying to run away from the great goliath, and she began to think of a hundred scenarios. Was that glorious stud strong enough to force a truck of that size to stop...?

Even with how tall the vehicle was, Killer still had to duck to look through the window at the terrified, shocked trucker. The bear gaped and obsessively looked down at the speed dial, then turned back towards Killer, unable to believe that someone could keep up with the crazy speed he was negotiating that urban road with. His mind employed a few moments to remember how high up the driving seat was, and understand just how hulking and enormous that shirtless Adonis was, but when he did, his mouth opened and closed a few times without producing a sound.

Killer was tempted to laugh, amused by his ridiculous expression and by the absurdity of that whole situation, but he tried to offer the most reassuring smile he could produce as he leaned close to the window and said: "Please, stop the truck. You've got something that is mine, and I don't think you have any right to carry it away."

The bear only gaped stupidly, letting out a whine of shock and leaning forwards on the seat to stomp all the harder on the gas, attempting to run away and slamming his hand on the horn to honk loudly, again and again, calling for help and bringing people in the nearby buildings to the doors and the windows.

"Please, stop the vehicle. You have nothing to fear from me." Killer calmly said, but the bear winced at the sight of the great white fangs and of the bulging, massive muscles as the liger still kept the truck's pace with fearsome ease... and the trucker lowered the glass window on the opposite side of the cab to shriek at the astonished people looking on in confusion: "The brutes are here! The brutes are here! Call the police! The army! They must be stopped! The brutes! The barbarians! They have come!"

Killer snorted irritably, blowing steam from his nostrils at that idiotic reaction, and he shrugged his massive shoulders before easily increasing his pace even further, overtaking the truck and taking position ahead of it. The trucker gasped in shock but didn't hit the brakes, honking obsessively instead... before his expression twisted into a sort of sick grin as he seemed to stomp on the gas with both feet, rushing towards him to scare him out of the way or to crush him into pulp if he didn't...

Terra shrieked, like many others around the street. Killer just shook his head and pulled up one foot, turning around to face the large vehicle. "I said stop!" He growled, but the truck kept racing against him. Terra's hands shot up towards her eyes, but a part of her told her to just watch and enjoy the show.

Killer contemptuously stomped hard on the front of the truck, and the vehicle was crushed to a full, abrupt stop with an horrendous screech of metal tearing and deforming out of shape. Smoke erupted from the engine as it was smashed and flattened like in a cartoon, the whole front of the vehicle caving in and sinking into the asphalt, crumpling on itself like it was made of paper while the rear wheels sprung high up into the air. The truck flipped over like a cheap plastic toy, somersaulting high up into the air, and Killer, smirking in amusement and acting like it was the easiest and most natural of things to do, reached up to single handedly catch the broken vehicle, holding it aloft like it weighted nothing. A toy, no, a feather. The metal crumpled like paper under his fingers, his grip crushing through the bodywork as he effortlessly extended his arm fully, muscles standing out in glorious definition as he pushed the whole truck high up above his head.

His bike was flung skywards as well, swinging towards him like a wrecking ball, but with terrifying ease he reached up with his other hand and caught the vehicle by the front wheel, holding it up like it weighted absolutely nothing.

Professor Stormscale saw it happen right in front of her car, and she was left staring with shock at his hulking muscles as that tow truck was easily demolished by a single stomp; at those immense biceps bulging explosively as he held both vehicles high up above his head, like... like toys!

The trucker screamed in misery and terror, curled up against the cracked windshield and hanging from the safety belts that had somehow kept him from flying out through the glass. He banged his useless fists against the cracked windows and yelled, begging for help, but Killer ignored him and carefully put his bike down on the ground instead, checking it for damage and holding the truck up almost as if he had forgotten it existed at all. When he was satisfied that the bike was in perfect conditions, the goliath idly reached up with his free hand and grabbed the roof of the cabin, his fingers tearing through metal like it was paper, before he peeled the roof off like he was opening a tuna can.

The bear fell out of the cabin and crashed on the ground, looking up at the giant like he was staring at some sort of demon, of supernatural entity, and then he scampered back, whining and babbling incoherently as he struggled up to his feet and ran away as quickly as he could, shrieking in terror.

Killer snickered, watching him go, his pudgy gut shifting with each step, looking ridiculously weak and puny, and then he grabbed the two ends of the truck and, apparently without effort, bent its chassis in a V, completely wrecking it. Terra and many others watched in awe as that young God inexorably compressed the truck into a useless piece of scrap metal, their ears filling with the screams of the steel bending and crumpling. Finally, as if nothing had happened at all, Killer dismissively tossed the massive chunk of unrecognizable wreckage into an empty parking lot to the side of the road, smirking at the ground-shaking impact as the hulk ground loudly over the asphalt, skidding for dozens of feet after landing.

Killer snorted in contempt, dusting off his hands, but he almost immediately regretted destroying the vehicle. All the doors and windows of the buildings along the street had been slammed shut and all lights had been turned off as the locals pretended not to be there at all. It was a good visualization of his diplomatic failure: he wasn't going to win any friend by destroying private propriety, no matter the reason why he did it. Killer sighed, rolling his eyes in frustration, and he reached down to carefully pick up his motorbike, shouldering it like it was a toy. What was done was done, and he'd deal with it in good time. There were many things he was prepared to accept in order for his diplomatic mission to succeed, but being robbed of his beloved motorbike was not one them. He could have stood still and allowed the truck to run into him... the end result would have been similar anyway. But he was willing to bet that the southerners would then find a way to say that it was all his fault anyway.

With a snort, he turned around and walked back towards the college, smiling a little at the sight of professor Stormscale gaping and leaning forwards over the wheel of her car, motionless in the middle of the street, with the lights pointed almost purposefully against him.

As he passed by, he again pulled up his free hand in a salute to the instructor, saying easily and cheerfully: "See you tomorrow, professor!"

Despite his best efforts, his tone and his smirk betrayed an implied, playful "threat". It was like he had just said: "You've seen nothing yet."

Terra shuddered and gaped at his strength, his might, his unparalleled power as he gave her that cocky grin of his and walked away... but oh, he had every right to be cocky, didn't he? He was like a god. He _was _a God.

She whimpered helplessly as that titan strode away, and she breathed hard, trembling, sitting in her car, unsure of what she was supposed to do or think. She stared in awe at the hunk of junk that was all that was left of the large truck, and she thought for a moment about leaving her car right next to it... why try and resist, after all? Why not just rush out of the car and crawl after him, begging him to allow her to bask in his vast and glorious shadow...?

She blinked stupidly as she was rattled out of her thoughts by the passenger door violently swinging open. She turned around just in time to see Alex throwing himself in, the horse looking terrified out of his mind as he blurted: "Come on, come on! We gotta get going we gotta -"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Terra blurted out, and then, before she knew what she was doing, she snarled and kicked him in the side, the stallion yelping as he was battered back towards the passenger door. "Get out! Get out of here!"

"Are you crazy? You bitch! Stop it!" Alex shouted, shoving back at her wildly before he yelped as he was kicked again and shoved hard out of the car, landing on his rump in the middle of the street. Without hesitation, Terra hit the gas and took off even as she leaned over the passenger seat to yank the door closed with a grunt. It was a struggle to get the door to slam closed since she couldn't quite get to the handle for a good grip... and that made her feel even more insignificant. Killer had just lifted a fucking truck above his head, with a single hand!

She glared over her shoulder at the rich and spoiled horse as she tore past the wreck of the truck and headed towards the intersection.

"My father is going to hear about this, you crazy bitch!" Alex howled as he jumped to his feet, shaking a fist angrily after the car, but then he flinched and looked in terror over his shoulder as he heard something crunch behind him. Some color returned to his face only once he realized that the noise had been caused by his friends and allies, as they waleked out of the bushes were they had sought refuge.

The stallion wheezed as he looked desperately back and forth for the... the giant. But he was gone, taking his bike with him, and he breathed hard, trying to calm down his thrumming heart, before he winced when Liara kicked him in the shin.

"Were you just going to abandon us?" she shouted, glaring at him and slamming a hand against his chest, shoving him back.

"N-No. No, babe, I was... getting the car. So we could get away. But uh... the professor..." Alex tried to come up with some excuse, but he couldn't quite find a good word, so he just glared back at her and then shook his head, finally grumbling: "Look, okay, the fucking prick is strong b-but that was just bad luck and he probably doesn't know that we were behind that or anything so... we're going to-"

"Fuck you, Alex, I can't believe you'd leave us here and try to run away by yourself. You come up with a shitty idea, then leave me dealing with the trouble." Liara snapped, and then she huffed and spread her arms wide, turning away from him and tossing him a disgusted look from over her shoulder as she added: "If you insist on getting so mad about a new student coming into your territory - she infused the word with a sharply remarked irony - then grow a pair before challenging him, and don't hide your hand after throwing the stone. I think I've had enough for tonight. Grow the fuck up." She walked away, shaking her head slowly and burying her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. Alex stared after her for a moment, trying to decide whether he should shout back, ran after her and slap her, or what. She was making him look like a loser in front of his men! How did she dare?

But Liara was a strong girl, who knew what she wanted and who would not hesitate to rip into him again and even worse. All in all, considering how things had gone, he was not in a good position to get into a public argument with her. He snorted contemptuously, and glared over at his other friends, muttering: "Fine. Let her be a bitch. Look. Giant or not, we can still out-think him, okay? Won't be hard. Besides, look at this. He wrecked that shit and took his stupid bike inside. That's already two strikes. Three strikes and he's gone forever." reasoned Alex. "And if he does try and pull some shit, this place literally trains the best of the best in the army. They'll shoot him in the face, and a gun doesn't care how big or strong you are. Right?"

His friends shifted anxiously, but Alex only grinned, recovering a bit of his confidence as he nervously touched his side, half due to the pain from Terra's kick, half due to the sudden wish for the reassuring weight of a pistol. He uneasily though about calling his father for a favor. With a few phone calls, his father could secure him a special pass allowing him to carry a gun around. It sounded like the smart thing to do. Just in case. A brute that big could still be dangerous and unpredictable, after all.

Killer looked up over his shoulder while walking away, effortlessly balancing his motorbike on the other shoulder, the race and the truck-lifting not even enough to make him break a sweat. He snickered as he saw the stallion from earlier rushing into Terra's car and being literally kicked out of it a moment later. And he grinned as he saw the mare slip him off and walk away, clearly irritated by his cowardice. She was beautiful; less curvaceous than professor Stormscale and a fair bit smaller, but muscular and toned, extremely fit. She was clearly a girl with a love for sports, and Killer could appreciate that, especially because of her long, strong legs and amazing butt.

He briefly considered the option of walking back there and beat Alex down to a pulp for the little trick he had tried to pull on him, but he decided to be patient about it. He was supposed to socialize, to fit in and show that tigers were civilized and that the time was mature for the Northlands and the south to start talking again with less hostility. He had already probably overdone it with the truck... the wreckage was going to catch a lot of attention and most of the street had seen and heard everything, so the last thing he needed was more noise and more bad publicity. He was at least confident that the driver, and even Alex, would be reluctant to tell the story of what had happened. Their actions hadn't been entirely legal; the results of them had been incredibly humiliating and, more importantly, they were now aware of just how strong he was and what he could do to them. He figured that they would not want to challenge him too directly.

If the stallion, who seemed to be the boss of that group of idiots, had any hint of brain about him, he should realize how outclassed he was and play nice from then onwards. But Killer had already understood the guy enough to know pretty much for sure that he would not back off. He could expect more attacks, but he did not want to be the one who started the war. He had a mission and he was determined to try and successfully complete it, so he had to be patient and allow things to happen, and hope for the best.

Part of him, however, literally hoped that the horse jock would foolishly begin a war. That would give him a justification for striking back, and he knew that he could hit far harder than anyone else. He flexed his enormous musculature with a low growl of delight at the idea of such a conflict... It would remove a lot of moral quandaries, and give him justification to show the South what the pride of the Northlands could do. Killer was extraordinary at home, divine and unmatched... but here in the south? Hell, here he was invincible. Alex was said to be the strongest in the college by a great margin, and yet he was nothing but a bug to Killer's eyes. With females like Terra and that beautiful mare around, Killer felt that lots of fun could be had.

To be frank, he didn't entirely share his father's ambition to normalize relationships with the South. He could see the merits of the idea, but the more he learned about Ire and the people living there, the more he was tempted to just terrify them into submission and obedience. Why should he be concerned with what weak sheep thought of him...?

As he made his way through the park, he stopped by a scoreboard with data about college sports, and Alex's name seemed to be everywhere. He guessed that Alex was the name of his horse friend.

He and a girl named Liara held most of the records, and he was ready to bet that Liara was the name of the mare. The other thing he couldn't help but notice were the times and numbers in the table. They were laughable to the liger's eye. It was immediately clear that he could mop the floor with them under any point of view: he was faster by far, and ludicrously stronger. Apparently Alex had set a record lifting a little more than 3000 lbs. Killer grinned, and made a mental note of signing in for all sports at the first chance.

His enormous cock twitched angrily, grinding against his pants and demanding worship; he had been without a loving female between his legs for too long already. He considered the option of hitting a bar and look for easy prey... but in the end decided to let it be for the night. He had to play nice.

He reached his squalid accommodation and carefully put down the motorbike inside the hut, where it would be safe from petty vandalism, which was all Alex and his dumb friends could possibly do to him. They certainly couldn't beat him or bully him physically...

He ducked out of the too small door once more and walked deep into the woods behind the college, which were part of the training grounds. He explored the place, and just tried to relax and free his mind from all the thoughts buzzing inside, many of which revolved around Terra and Liara and the possibility to go and hit up at least one of the two.

Finally, however, he decided to keep himself busy with some manual work, which always helped him relax. He selected a huge tree, hugged it, and uprooted it with the ease of tearing up a blade of grass. It took him five seconds at most, and his hulking biceps barely flexed. He shouldered the great oak and walked back to his refuge, where he began to bare-handedly cut the huge tree down to size, chopping the branches with easy blows with the cut of his hand and then punching the trunk into sections.

He built up a huge frame he could use for morning pull-ups, and then began to break up the rest of the tree into wooden planks which he'd later use to fix the damaged building, as soon as he could get the right tools for the job. In the meanwhile he thought of Terra, of that shapely, wonderful MILF body with huge breasts and long legs with thighs that just begged to be manhandled. He grinned at the memory of her shock, of her flushed cheeks, of her scent of lust getting stronger as she soaked her underwear with need... and he squeezed onto his colossal bulge, stroking his enormous cock through the stretched fabric of his pants as he thought of her going back home to her little hubby. She'd never be able to look at him the same way again. She'd have her mind full of the plentiful, majestic sound of Killer's cock heavily smashing down on his hand. She'd have her eyes filled with his glorious musculature flexing while he effortlessly crushed a truck into a useless wreck. She also had children, he believed... if she had a son, her eyes would see him under a new light as well... or better, a new darkness, because he could never measure up to the new heights of virility she had witnessed. Killer knew well what the "brutes" and "barbarians" of the north did to southern women. In the border regions there were a variety of bars and pubs where Killer and other young studs met women coming south of the frontier, lured by the immense amounts of maleness on display. It was something that Ire tried to keep under wraps as best it could, but there was a vast amount of pornography doing the rounds on the internet thanks to those special night clubs.

He had fucked a lot of those eager race traitors, who were willing to pay huge amounts of money to be allowed to curl up under his massive, hulking form and scream while he rammed his cock home inside their little, frail bodies. He had destroyed multiple families in that way. Terra was already on the same path, and he grinned as he thought of how she'd spend the night. How she'd dream of him, finger herself, crying in need and looking at her husband with distaste.

He smirked as he grabbed the last great piece of tree, his fingers tearing deep into it before he easily pulled in the opposite directions and split it in half down the middle. His enormous cock thrummed with power, flexing arrogantly against his pants, and he grunted a bit, reaching down to rub a hand down the monstrous bulge. Terra and Liara lingered in his memories of the day, tantalizing, and his insatiable mammoth of a shaft demanded attention even though he had actually gotten a fair share of it only a matter of hours earlier, when Killer had stopped by an autogrill before arriving on the busy roads of Arkaley. He had left behind five girls bloated and senseless, drenched in thick cum and with gaping holes that were never going to close up again, so he should have been more than satisfied... But that, in Killer's life, was the definition of foreplay.

He was certain that plenty of cadets had to be outside of campus, crowding a bar or another, and he was tempted to walk out and seek one of those for a drink and a good girl. Or several. He piled up the large, heavy planks of wood and then paused, looking past the distant gates of the campus and at the neon lights and noisy streets beyond. The temptation was great, but he finally sighed and shook his head slowly, walking inside the hut and closing the door behind him. Better to take it slow, and get to know his schoolmates first. Perhaps if he met them in the classroom first, showed them that he could be trusted and that he could be every bit as "civilized" as they were so proud to be, things would then take a better course.

He pulled out the sleeping bag carried strapped to one side of his great black motorbike, and he unrolled it on the floor. He carefully put his cherished red tunic away, folded the blue sash and finally stepped out of his white, ceremonial pants. He stood there for a moment, wearing only a pair of black boxers that were savagely stretched out by his colossal member and also inexorably too short to hide that great elephant trunk of a shaft which dangled heavily out of the left leg of his underwear. His eyes lingered on that humongous pillar of virility sticking out in front of him, but he only grumbled a bit in resignation and sat down on the sleeping bag, resting his back against the wooden wall and grimacing as it creaked ominously, deforming under his weight and under the crushing power of the slightest flex of his hulking muscles. He slowly ground his hand over that veiny, masculine girth, idly feeling the thick, pulsing veins pushing through the fabric, but he was almost immediately rewarded with a thick, heavy glob of precum pushing out of his immense cock, and he grimaced and hurriedly pushed his thick foreskin forwards to cut that growing rope off and contain the rest. He wouldn't have minded playing a little with himself, just to vent out some of his excessive vigor, but the cleaning up that would have to follow would be hellish. That single "drop" of precum, probably weighting 4 or 5 pounds on its own, was a hint of what he was like once he started going. Normally he'd have those who would clean up on his behalf - most often with their tongues - and so that wasn't normally a concern, but now it definitely was. He sighed, and slumped down a bit further, closing his eyes and trying to relax. Thankfully, a life on the battlefield had taught him many things, including the art of forcing his mind to shut down and let him sleep whenever he had a short chance to do so.

He didn't bother actually slipping inside the sleeping bag, instead using it as a mattress, shirtless and only in his boxers. Used to the cold of the Northlands, the southern nights felt more than warm. His last thought before slipping into sleep was one of genuine eagerness for the new day to come. He was eager to go to the first lesson of the new day, and see how professor Stormscale would show up. He expected that she would dress to impress him, and he was sure she could do a good job of it. She clearly knew how to handle and valorize her assets, after all, even if she had been so wholly taken aback by his appearance.

And he looked forwards to meeting the other girls of the class, and to seeing the other teachers.

He expected lots of hostility, but he also knew he had already secured one ally, whether she realized it or not... and he was sure he could get more.

Terra was so shocked by the events of the last hour or so that she drove mechanically towards home and nearly got there before remembering that her husband had invited her out for dinner. When she realized her mistake, she grumbled under her breath and turned around, speeding to get there. She was incredibly late, but that was not really what bothered her. She was annoyed by the idea of having to waste time on that date when she could have been with the handsome, massive stud of a barbarian come from the North.

Normally she loved spending time out with her husband, as he was the CEO of a large corporation and never invited her to anything but the very best places. She loved going out with him, knowing that he could and would buy her almost anything at all she might desire. Money was never a problem, and he loved her deeply enough to very rarely question her word. Some people made fun of them because of it; they particularly snickered about her husband, who was, in their view, her rich pet. She was in the military, she was the tall and strong one and she was seen as the "man" of the house. Her husband was not a wimp at all, actually, and he spent as much time as he could in the gym just to stay fit for her, but that wasn't enough to stop the rumors. Normally, Terra couldn't care any less about what envious people thought of them as they walked, hand in hand, into the most expensive places of the town and the country, far and wide. But tonight she was having serious trouble chasing those thoughts away: her husband suddenly didn't strike her as enough of a man anymore. Normally she was pleased by the control she had over the family, by how she could get him to do everything she wanted... but now something whispered to her that it was wrong. Wouldn't a big, powerful, forceful male be so much better? One who could and would order and toss her around as and when he pleased. One who wouldn't ask, but take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. She did her best to silence those thoughts, but her mind continued to wander back to that huge god at the old dormitory. Hell, she could still hear the loud, scary THWACKs of his immense black shaft slamming down into his hand, heavy and majestic and glorious. With him at her side, nobody would have dared whispering and making fun of her... with him at her side, with a King, an Emperor, a God like that at her side, she would have been a queen, an empress, a goddess. A slave to Him, but a divinity to anyone else. Was he rich? Probably. Hell, he lorded over a whole kingdom for real, after all... but even if he wasn't, it didn't matter. With the body he had, the strength he had, the astounding virility he had, he could have anything else he wanted. He could make money in a million different ways... hell, he could probably make more money than her husband's whole corporation by just putting up videos of his cock on the web, behind a paywall. He could even steal them, couldn't he...? She swallowed thickly, thinking back of the truck groaning and screaming as it was bent into a pretzel without his biceps even fully flexing. How could such a power be stopped? If he wanted money, he could rip open the safety vault of a bank or two. She could just about see it in her mind, the enormous armoured door bending like cheap tin as he yanked it out of the wall. Who could possibly stop him...? She ground her thighs together with a hot pant, flushed and breathless, and she tried to calm down, to push those images out of her mind, even though they kept returning to the fore.

By the time Terra got to the restaurant, she calmed down somewhat, but she continued to feel on the edge, her loins burning, the inside of her dress sweaty, the inside of her lingerie wet and incandescent, her panties trapped between the blossomed labia of her sex, sucked in by her eager passage.

Her husband was there still, sitting at the table he had reserved for them, in front of candles which had almost entirely melted away. She was hours late... and yet he sprung to his feet and smiled radiantly at her, delighted by the sight of his adored, beautiful wife. She did her best to smile back as convincingly as she could, but for the first time in many years, maybe in forever, she thought that he was the only lucky one in their relationship. A good few years older than her, slightly shorter than her, the blue-scaled dragon should consider himself lucky he could call her his darling. Military life and a true dedication to her body and her ability to seduce anyone she might like to play with ensured that her body was always in top shape. She was naturally gifted with great, firm breasts and with beautiful features that made heads turn... what could he possibly ask for more than that?

His eyes sparkled as he spread his arms and hugged her, and Terra awkwardly squeezed around his shoulders. For a moment she wondered what he might be able to smell on her sweaty body, but the thought almost immediately changed as she wrinkled her nose and almost grimaced. He had, as always, an impeccable scent, thanks to the use of some top of the market perfume or another... and normally she would sniff that perfume in with a smile of pleasure. But tonight, her mind bitterly wondered whether her husband was ever going to sport the scent of a true male. The perfume was good, but ultimately meaningless. Killer's natural musk, on the other hand, had made her shiver in awe and need and sent rivulets of juice rolling down her thighs. The young prince of the North smelled of Male, of Power, of V_irility._ His scent was one of sweat, testosterone, pheromones, and pure dominance. His scent caused females to shiver and fucking ovulate for him. Hell, she didn't have another word for it. In his presence she had felt ready and eager to serve. His musk was potent, brutal, glorious, delightful.

Her husband's scent...? He didn't even seem to have one, unless he used perfume.

And his arms felt so small, so puny, so ridiculously thin compared to the glorious machines of muscle, girthier than her waist, that she had witnessed. The fact that she didn't have to throw her head backwards and gape skywards to look him in the eyes suddenly bothered her as well. It just didn't feel... right.

"Welcome, darling. Did you have trouble at the school?" The dragon asked, smiling at her with affection. He was so enamored of her that he didn't even mention how long he had had to wait. He carefully worded his question in a way that made it clear he didn't hold her responsible for anything.

"You... you could say that." Terra awkwardly replied, allowing him to gently take her hand and lead her into her seat before taking position across the table. "I... the dean of admissions ordered me to stay and wait for a foreign student to arrive. The little brat didn't want to waste his time, so he wasted mine instead." Terra finally explained, and that part of the story was true, so it came out... naturally enough. But within her mind, she was oh so thankful to the little brat for giving her the chance to witness Killer's arrival!

"That's disgraceful!" Her husband commented, before adding: "I can have a talk to the principal about that, if you'd like. She will listen. The Army will listen! I will make sure to delay the next shipment of tanks if they don't."

"Let it be, dear." Terra dismissively replied, before biting her lower lip as just thinking of what had happened made her mind drift towards images of that huge stud of a Man, causing her thighs to grind almost desperately together. "S-sorry, dear. I'll go refresh myself a little. I'll be back in a moment!"

She stood up in a hurry and walked rapidly towards the bathroom, panting, not even looking back as her husband looked up with concern. She shoved the door open, nearly slamming it into an ugly but expensive decorative statue inside the marble-rich bathroom communal room, before storming into the women's area. Thankfully she saw no one in there, although she couldn't be sure about the stalls. If some other woman was in there, that could get embarrassing, but she couldn't help herself anymore. She rushed into the first stall and hurriedly closed the door before panting as she struggled to unveil her groin, tearing her soaked thong out of her bulging labia that had sucked it inside. "Killer... oh, fuck, you stud... you god...!" She breathed, slumping with her back against the door and her whole body flexing. She was sweaty and flushed and soaked like she had masturbated for hours, yet her husband hadn't smelled it, hadn't realized it. She was certain that Killer, being the breeder god he was, could have smelled it from miles away. Her breath caught, her head lolling back and eyes rolling up as her muscles flexed, her thick, swollen labia bulging and quivering as she flushed and moaned, clutching into the walls of the stall as her hips bucked against the air, before her hot nectar squirted out f her in a powerful jet that splashed into and over the wc and the expensive, lucid tiles, streams of juice flowing down her thighs, soaking her panties even worse as her vagina flexed and audibly suctioned, rhythmically clenching as her passage shut close with the force of a vice. She groaned breathlessly, drool already falling from her lips as she helplessly reached down and flicked her clit, moving her fingers rapidly, causing her puffy labia to slap and squelch audibly as she blasted out another jet of hot nectar, looking up as if she could see him. Her eyes burned with ecstasy, disbelief, adoration, delight, need.

When it finally, reluctantly subsided, she slumped down further, leaving a trail of juice on her door as her feet bumped against the walls on either side and she trembled, her knees threatening to give in. It had been glorious, the most intense release of her life by far... and it had only taken a thought, a memory of his glorious body.

Terra spent a long time in the stall, half-listening to see if anyone walked in or out, terrified by the thought that some other woman might be listening from a nearby stall... and half working to drain and clean herself as best she could, trying to at least cancel the evident streaks of juice down her thighs.

She finally stumbled out, fearing that her husband might come see if she was okay, and she did her best to freshen up some, smoothing her hair, reapplying some of her makeup, cooling herself down after her experience. Her thighs took a long time to stop trembling, at least visibly.

But of course she couldn't stop thinking about him. About that handsome king, and his powerful, massive body, and his...

Oh no, she had to put all of that out of her mind! Her husband was waiting. Her husband that loved her, that was handsome, that was rich, that was good and generous and that adored her so utterly. She couldn't ruin it all, could she...? She made her way back out to dinner, but of course, the whole time, she was barely able to focus on her husband. He was big and strong and handsome, a man who ran his own business and took what he wanted. They had a lot of fun together, because she teased him, pushed him. She had been a party girl in years past, and that part of her had never really gone away. Even the army's discipline had failed to cancel that aspect of her character. Sometimes they had little adventures out at the local bars or other places, but... oh, he wasn't much compared to Killer, was he...? There just was no way around that truth. She studied him critically, sneaking gazes his way from over the food that she barely touched. He was the biggest, the most handsome, the strongest boy she could find, but now she saw that it didn't mean a whole lot, did it? He was more than seven feet tall, which made him a giant by most people's standards, and one of few males that didn't look like kids next to her even more extraordinary 8 feet of height, enhanced by the high heels she always wore. Many envied her for her catch, and she had never, never thought she would one day look at him and find him so inadequate. But hell, there was a new man in town, and a real man, at that, a walking god from the northlands...

After the dinner, they walked out arm in arm, and the chauffeurs of her husband drove his dark blue limo right in front of the restaurant. Terra barely processed what her husband said, only nodding in agreement, and he sent one of the two drivers out to pick up her car and drive it home. She stared at him stupidly for a moment when he stopped by and kindly asked for the keys.

"The keys of your car, darling." His husband gently explained, and she nodded with a little sound realization and handed them over, before flushing and fumbling an excuse: "I'm just... so tired, really. I'm sleepy. It's been a long day."

"I understand, my dear. That school works you way too hard." Her husband cooed, helping her through the door of the limo and onto the couch-like seat. In a moment, the driver was in his place and the little two-cars convoy drove towards the mansion.

It was a beautiful estate, with a great park and at least a dozen different monumental fountains orderly arranged in the various areas of it. It was almost a royal palace, with dozens of rooms, more than they even knew how to truly exploit, but that night she was unimpressed even by the vast, well illuminated façade. It too suddenly felt small, weak, a cardboard scenography. An image of power that did not represent the truth: what was her husband's puny "power" when compared to Killer's great, crushing, godlike strength? She had no doubt about which of the two was the real and superior power.

Her husband led her to his favorite living room, not far from their bedroom, where she sat down in the couch while he poured wine in two tall chalices. "I worry for you, darling. I never saw you this exhausted. I wonder if... wouldn't it be better for you to stay home? You don't need the Army. You don't need to work at all. We have everything we need already."

"Don't start." Terra replied, and it came out a bit more forceful than she intended it to. But how could he propose her to step down now, of all moments, now that an hypervirile God was in her classroom? A 14-years old divinity who would grow even further, much as it was difficult to even imagine. What a Godbeast that the prince could become! She felt her loins burning at the thought of Killer becoming even greater and stronger and bigger. "I... I like what I do. I want to continue with my job. I don't like to just be a drag on you and depend entirely on your purse."

"You'll never be a drag on me, my dear..." The dragon whispered, smiling almost apologetically as he sat down at her side and offered her the chalice with the scented, precious wine.

They sipped a little of that nectar, and talked a little about their days, with Terra desperately trying to ensure he did all the talking, her eyes sliding closed as she dreamily thought back to Killer's glorious form. THWACK! The noise was clearly seared in her mind, making her shudder whenever she thought of it. Her husband was kissing her neck, slowly and teasingly, when he felt her body tensing, almost jumping as her hips bucked slightly but noticeably, and he smiled, purring: "Oh, darling... you need some attention? You crave some love, my dear...?"

Terra let out a little cry, of frustration more than enthusiasm, because he wasn't the one she needed and wanted. No, she didn't want it to happen. She pulled away from him, thinking that having sex with him now, so soon after witnessing Killer's glorious hypervirility, would make things worse, not better. But he thought it part of the game, and he followed her, one hand gripping her muscled, firm thigh and slowly sliding upwards towards her centre, until he found wetness, hot and sticky. "Oh, my... someone definitely needs a bit of love..."

Terra flushed, but she forced herself to nod as he kissed her lips lightly and began to undress. She helped him get rid of his expensive suite and of his white, perfect shirt, her fingers running down his strong, well-chiseled abs... but oh, how small, how soft, how disappointing they felt, a mere succession of little bumps rather than the mountains and deep valleys of pure power of Killer's own abs. But she couldn't deny him, she couldn't push him away, it would inexorably awaken suspects even in him, even with how blissfully blind with love he was.

"I know just the way to make you feel better..." He promised, and she forced her lips to curl into a smile as she tugged lightly at his pants while he undid his fly, but without any real joy. His fat, hard, massive fifteen-inches cock pushed arrogantly into her chiseled, strong abdomen as it came free of his underwear, but for the first time she was almost disgusted by it. Her mind rushed back to the moment Killer had pissed, and holy hell, there was no way around the mind-shattering fact that Killer's superpotent sperms, swimming in that stinking piss, had been literally bigger than her husband's cock. His runts, his sub-par seeds, the ones he threw away with contempt! There had been some which stretched more than 20 inches long, she could swear on anything. How could she take him seriously when a power so infinitely greater was out there, not even fully unveiled yet; not even fully grown up yet...? Fourteen years old, and he is a God. What will he be like at twenty...? She thought of that monstrous, glorious shaft dangling down past the prince's knees, bulging with veins, thrumming with power. Fully flaccid, and yet probably five times longer than her husband's erect member, and ludicrously thicker. How many times could her husband's cock fit into that godbeast of a shaft...? Hell, it was hard to even guess. Her husband suddenly looked like a newborn... and one with a pitifully small scrap of skin between his legs, compared to that titan out there. It was a sacrilege to call both of them "males". If her husband was a male, Killer had to be called something new, something more... he was in a league all of his own.

She allowed him to push her down into the crotch, and she gazed at his dick almost with distaste. It was almost disturbing to look at: after seeing Killer's immense hypervirility, she felt like she was now gazing at something inferior, hopeless, weak and grotesque. A mistake of nature.

Some precum dribbled out of his cockhead as he stroked his member to make himself fully ready, and she almost grimaced at the sight of that clear, watery fluid. It looked so weak, useless and wrong, after witnessing those ungodly tangles of huge sperms in the liger's piss. She could only begin to imagine what the beast's precum had to be like... she imagined loads of tar-thick masculine essence, crammed full with those terrifying, glorious super-sperms. His orgasm...? Oh, gods. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it had to be like. Just his piss had contained more semen, more virile power of creation than her husband would ever manage to produce in ten lives.

She spread her legs for her husband, but without any joy. He leaned over her and thrust hard, fast, powerfully, roughly as he knew she liked it, but it suddenly felt so mild and uninteresting. He rammed away as hard as he dared and could, but she did little more than lie there listlessly, barely responding, barely aroused. She closed her eyes and pretended he was... someone else. But of course that didn't help much. His cock stretched her but oh, she knew it wasn't stretching her nearly enough. His thrusts were nowhere near strong enough. He panted instead of growling, and his voice didn't made her loins burn and her ribcage tremble like His. And she was almost fastidiously aware that she was taller and stronger than him. She used to enjoy that awareness, but now... oh, to feel that titan of a liger mounting her, covering her so utterly, so completely, dwarfing her, his arms on either side of her, looming over her like towers of godly muscle. His broad chest replacing the sky. His hips driving home that bitch-breaker cock with such force to make the walls tremble and crack. Oh, he could kill her, so easily. Crush her like a gnat. Every part of his glorious, majestic body could snuff her out like a candle. He could kill her with his immense balls, with their titanic weight. He could teabag her skull into splinters, or cave her chest in with those great tanks of virility. His cock... ah. It could kill her in a dozen different ways before he even started to harden up. He could snuff her out with his thumb like she was a fly. Hell, even those immense sperms could kill her. He could drown her with his piss, or bury her under an ocean of tar-thick precum... and she could barely begin to imagine him unleashing a cumshot within her poor little body. The thought made her shudder violently, his bucking wildly as she let out a warm cry of delight and fear, and her juices gushed out of her with amazing force, squirting out of her clenching passage as her husband grunted in surprise and almost shock as her legs wrapped almost viciously around his waist and her passage clenched on him like a vice, one moment pushing him back out with amazing force, the other sucking him in with an hunger than almost scared him.

The poor idiot thought he was responsible for that great explosion of lust and bliss, and he playfully boasted about it, but Terra only panted hard and ignored him, thinking instead of the omnipotent young god who was driving her insane with lust and orgasms without even touching her. Without even being close to her.

Her husband did his best, but he couldn't last long while her sex clenched rhythmically around him, yearning to be stretched out and instead finding that "little" cock that it almost violently squeezed, making him grunt almost in pain. Within a moment he was finishing and he pulled out in a hurry, asking her where she wanted his seed. She said nothing, but was tempted to tell him to dump it in the toilet, like the crap it was. She looked down coldly at the little ropes of cum shooting over her abs, reaching up past her navel but not much farther, and she had to contain a snort of derision. She could see nothing in his seed, of course. His sperms were invisible, as she always thought it normal... but now she knew the truth. Now she knew there were sperms, godly, hyperpowerful sperms, that were far longer than those ropes of white strewn over her abs. And she could only imagine, given the size of the seeds, what oceanic loads of thick, potent seminal fluid would accompany them and splash over immense, unbelievable distances... her husband couldn't even reach her breasts. He would flood the fucking room.

And once he was done he was soon soft again, looking pleased with himself and clearly believing he had lodged a great performance. Maybe he had. But that still meant nothing. He could no longer measure up in any way. And she was certain that that powerhouse of muscles and virility that she had met at school would most definitely not be done in just one round. No. That great beast was a machine. Unstoppable, for sure.

Terra's standards had completely been rewritten, and her husband could no longer claim to be a stud. He had just been downgraded to "trash". The fact that he was stronger than most only filled Terra with a sort of pleasure-anger: how many unworthy beings were all around her, claiming to be males, boasting to be studs. Vermin the lot of them. They were living lies, all of them... and she grinned savagely at the thought that invincible, glorious Truth was about to dawn. It would soon crush all those maggots into their place.

Her husband curled up at her side, and soon enough he was peacefully snoozing.

Terra looked at him quietly, not without affection. He was the father of their children, after all... but she felt needier than ever before, and more obsessed by Killer than she could describe. And she realized that there was anger boiling up in her. For years she had wasted her time, that was definite. For years, she had been lied to and had lied herself as a consequence. They taught their pupils that the Northerners were inferior, unevolved brutes. But now she could see the truth. There could be no doubt about who was superior, Alpha, Emperor, God. Her husband and her son were just vermin among so many others. But their time was nearly up. Nature had a way to put things right, and the strongest always came out on top in the end. Killer was the weapon, the force of Nature unleashed. The personification and apex of northerner superiority, unleashed upon his hunting grounds. Terra licked her lips, trembling as hot nectar rolled down her thighs, and she fondled her soaked labia with a whimper of need and anticipation. Killer's file made perfect sense now. No, it did not exaggerate at all. Probably understated, in fact, and she wished she could have seen him on the battlefield, crushing lesser beings underfoot like ants... And yes, his compatriots saw him as a divinity. She could believe to that now. And if northerners saw him as a God... in the South he was beyond godlike, a walking Apocalypse, a force that they were nowhere near ready for. And the lesser, weak males like her husband were trying to hold him back, to obstacle him, to ostracize him. It filled her with fury. It was not right. But oh... it didn't matter, did it? In the end, it would only amuse the God more. They were like desperate idiots trying to save a sinking ship by throwing water out with buckets. They were going to washed away like the inferior stains they were.

She got up, careful not to wake him up more because she didn't want to deal with him again than for any sort of kindness. She extracted herself from his hug and descended from the expensive couch, collecting her discarded clothes and making her way towards their bedroom. Even as she walked down the corridor, her hand went down to rub over her soaked labia, two fingers slipping easily inside of her and pushing deep as she thought of Killer and of his big, strong hands, and his powerful, handsome muscles, and that mighty, fat god-cock of his...

It was going to be a long and torturing night. She couldn't wait for the new day to come. She was already thinking of the clothes she could wear to further display her beauty, to further enhance her seduction. She was going to need new ones, and new accessories... and tattoos, probably. Competition to get a bit of His time was going to be ferocious, she could already imagine. She was determined to fight for his favors, and she wanted to start right away. A God like him deserved only the best, so it was up to her to deliver something that would gain his approval.

He was the apex predator, so she knew how to please him: she had to serve him not just as eager slave, but as bait to lure more fresh meat his way.

"Not like it is going to be difficult, anyway...!" She said, smirking as she passed by a window facing out over the sleeping town. "Sweet dreams, vermin... tomorrow is the dawn of a new era. Time to reckon with the truth."