FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Slayer or Layer 22

For Lorvianne

By Draconicon

Waking up before the sunrise, Lorkos made the admittedly easy decision to leave before Saluk woke up. The husky might have been useful as a way in to the archmages, but he knew better than to think it would come without further cost to him. The lusty dog had been very handsy while they were getting drunk and, while the fucking hadn't been completely unpleasant, it hadn't been that enjoyable, either.

Better to sneak out before Saluk figured out that he was more than just the average wolf, too.

Getting dressed, the wolf left the inn room, making his way downstairs before going out to the stables. It didn't take long to get his mount ready, and soon, he was on the road again. Just to be sure, he pushed the horse a bit harder than he normally would, trotting for a good mile and a half before dropping off to walk it, then trotting again.

He put several good miles between him and the inn before sunrise, and he felt safer after that.

Shaking his head, the wolf looked over his shoulder, making sure that nobody was following him before he pulled his mount off to the side of the road. It was going to be hard going through the plains and shrubland that was off to the east, but for the moment, he couldn't help but think that it was better to stay off the road. There were too many possibilities of being found by someone that he didn't want to meet.

#

Two days later, he was feeling it. The curse was spreading again, and it was hitting him harder than usual.

Lorkos groaned as he dismounted from his horse, the fourth time that he had done so in less than an hour. The wolf's legs were aching from the constant walking rather than riding, but...well...

He looked down. He couldn't see the reptilian parts through his pants, but he could sure as hell feel them. His pussy was swollen and wet, and he had stuffed several wads of cotton down there to try and soak it up so it wouldn't damage his leather trousers. He wasn't sure it was working, but it was making him very aware of how wet he was down there.

But it was more than that. The curse seemed to be...well, the only way that he could think to describe it was that it was more rampant than usual, like a river that had gone mad in spate, rushing through him and breaking down anything that stood in its way. He could already feel the scales rushing up his back, running along his spine to his shoulders. His ass and thighs were already completely converted to those of a dragoness, and his tail was covered in leather wraps to hide the shifts that had happened to it.

Lorkos panted as he walked, his own clothes tormenting him for what he was, what he was going through. He growled under his breath, fighting the urge to curse the dragoness that had cursed him, knowing it would only make it worse.

The panting became a groaning, and the groaning became a moaning as he felt his heat surging through him hotter than ever. His curves pressed against the leathers that he wore, and he shivered as he felt his ass start to sway with his steps, knowing that he was slowly losing more and more of himself to the curse of femininity.

Much as he hated to admit it, he knew that he needed to find a scaly and get bred, and soon. Otherwise, he was going to lose himself.

He kept alternating between walking and riding, knowing that there was not likely to be any this close to the capital. Not out in the open, at least. He growled under his breath, half-wishing that he had the courage to turn around and go back to the tribe of lizardmen. At the very least, there'd be a few survivors, though whether they'd breed him -

There was no warning save for a twitch in the grass, and he was too distracted to see it before the ambush was sprung. Shouting at the top of their lungs, bandits lunged for him from the long grasses of the plains. Dogs, bulls, and more came for him, grabbing at his legs and trying to pull him from the back of his horse.

Lorkos grabbed for his blade with one hand and his club with the other, pulling them free. A bull got a bash in the back of the head with the club, and one wild dog was pushed back with a swing of his sword.

But there were too many for him to fight for long. Every time one of them grabbed his leg, he was pulled hard against the saddle, reminding him of the heat that burned between his legs, and every time that he managed to get free, someone else was there to try and pull him down again. Each time, he came that much closer to losing himself to the pleasure between his legs, and he didn't know how much longer he could fight it.

Lorkos moaned, kicking his horse. The mount pushed forward, only to be grabbed by one of the bandits, head held down so that it couldn't rear up and kick. The bandits knew what they were doing, and they were doing it well.

Finally, one of the bulls grabbed him by the arm and yanked him hard enough to get him off the horse. He hit the ground hard, rolling away from his mount and the bandits. One of them - he didn't know which - grabbed at his arm, but the wolf was able to bring his blade around, slashing the back of the bandit's knee.

Getting to his feet, Lorkos panted for breath, feeling his pussy squeezing down on nothing, begging for something inside. He shivered, shaking his head from side to side, his hands clenching harder than ever on the grips of his weapons.

"What do you want?" he managed to grunt.

"Heh, your money or your life, slayer," one of the dogs said. "You want to get out of here with your skin? Give us whatever you got."

That wasn't much, and there was very little that the wolf could afford to give up at this point. He'd lost too much in his journey, and he'd need his remaining coin for bribes when he got down to the capital. He needed everything he had for when he got down there.

He slowly shook his head, even as he took in the odds. They were far from good. Eight bandits that had the drop on him, eight bandits that weren't fighting against their own libido just to stay upright.

It really wasn't fair.

Huffing and puffing, he did the only thing that he could do. He took the fight to them.

The wolf swung his club overhead and tossed it at the nearest of the dogs, using it as cover to run forward. Even as the dog brought his own weapon up to block the flying club, Lorkos hit the ground, sliding forward and stabbing the tip of his blade through the dog's stomach. He ripped it out again, throwing the dying body to the side and swinging his weapon around to catch a spear stabbing in at him.

He spun around, pulling the spear with him, already feeling his legs quivering and trying to give out. He wouldn't last long. Couldn't.

Chop, swing. The spear broke under his blade, the bull carrying it slashed across the neck. Blood sprayed, but the wolf was already moving on.

Kick, crack. The red dog that was his next target took a boot to the face, reinforced with the scaly transformation that was on the verge of ripping through his footwear. He spun as the canine hit the ground, blocking two more sword slashes before darting back.

Eight bandits, three dead now, five left. His legs were shaking as the dogs and bulls closed in, trying to push him back against his horse, cornering him.

It worked, too. He blocked the first sword blow, but not the second, taking a slash across his arm -

Chink.

The sound of the blade hitting his scales was loud enough to make them stop. The bandits paused, their weapons still pointed at him.

"What...what the fuck?" one of the dogs muttered.

"That's not flesh. That's..."

One of the bulls reached out, grabbing Lorkos by the shoulder. Before the wolf could stop him, the bigger guy ripped his shirt clean off.

Red scales had risen up from his waist to his shoulders, and the beginnings of breasts could be seen. Lorkos panted hard as he felt his nipples hardening, his body exposed, the corruption of the curse on full display.

Hissing tiredly, the wolf tried to swing his sword up, but he was already breaking down, already so tired, already so in need. It didn't matter that they weren't scalies; the curse had him in heat, heat for anything that had a dick. It didn't matter anymore, or at least, not enough for him to be able to fight it.

"He's cursed," the bull with his shirt muttered.

"Cursed? He's one of them."

"Nah, not yet."

"Think he matches...down there?"

"Let's find out."

Again, the bull grabbed for him, and again, Lorkos was too slow to stop the big bovine. He grabbed for the bull's wrist, but it did nothing as those thick fingers grabbed him by the waistband and pulled down.

When his pussy was exposed, he thought he would just about die of humiliation. The bull's hand was thick enough, strong enough to force his legs apart, and the wolf was lifted up by a finger in his damp cunt. He gasped, his toes curling in his boots as he was left dangling on it.

"What the hell..."

"He's got a pussy. What happened to him?"

"Who cares? He's all wet, ain't he?"

"Heh, looks like we got us a toy, boys," the bull grunted. "Let's get him back home before someone else comes around."

"You..." Lorkos panted. "You...you fucks...let me...let me go..."

"Not a chance, slut. And by the looks of things, you don't want us to let you go."

The wolf tried to growl, but it came out as little more than a whimper. He hated to admit it...but they were almost right.

#

They blindfolded him for the length of the journey, taking him back to some sort of headquarters who knew where and not taking the blindfold off until they were deep underground. It was one of those places where it was impossible to tell where you were besides that. He might have been in the mountains, in a forest, in a dug-out hole under a hill, or just around the corner from a city. There was no way of knowing when you were surrounded by rock and stone.

The bandits tied him to a pair of stalagmites, holding his arms over his head and giving him nothing but a rock for a pillow. It was embarrassingly familiar, and he knew what they wanted from him.

The first one to come forward was the bull, the same one that had stripped him on the field. Maybe he was the one in charge now, or maybe the bull was just the one that had right of first claim since he'd been the one to catch the wolf. Either way, he was pulling his pants down, and Lorkos was doing his best to keep his pride.

It was hard to do that when he had a slit that was dripping over the stone floor, when his body was screaming for the pleasure of a cock, when his entire being was focused on the idea of being bred. He shivered as he remembered the drakes on the side of the mountain so many weeks ago, or the kobolds within the mountain using him, breeding him, fucking him constantly. Even the lizardmen seemed like a distant heaven, now.

His pussy was throbbing, but the curse was what was hurting him. Was this punishment, he wondered? Punishment for fucking someone that wasn't scaly?

Fuck...it probably is...

Another clench hit him, his inner walls clamping down on nothing, his womb begging for the seed of scalies so that he could have the chance to lay more eggs. The urge to breed was second to none.

The urge to be fucked was second to that, but a very close second.

The wolf panted hard as his legs were pushed apart by the naked bull, the warmth of a flat-headed cock pressing against him and making him shiver. His scaly toes curled, his tail thrashed beneath him.

"Heh, looks like we got a good cunt for fucking, boys," the bull said as he ground back and forth. "Betcha that this bitch won't even get pregnant, either."

"Don't you...don't you dare..." Lorkos hissed between pants and shivers.

"Heh, you think you can tell me what to do?"

"You'll pay...I swear...you'll pay..."

"Hmm...I don't think I will...After all, who would listen to a scaly bitch like you?"

The bull pulled back, his flat-headed cock grinding against the wolf's scaly pussy one more time. Lorkos didn't bother begging any further; he knew that there was no getting away from this rape. Instead, he braced himself.

The first thrust was deep, hard, and hot...and despite himself, it felt...good.

For a second or two.

As the bull started to get into a rhythm, thrusting away, Lorkos realized that the feeling of pressure and pleasure in his sex was not getting any stronger. If anything, it was getting weaker, consumed by the burning heat of his body, a heat that begged for a 'proper' cock, a 'proper' breeding from a scaly male.

He tried to think that this was just as good, that he was still getting dicked, but his body knew the truth. It knew that he wasn't fucking a scaly.

And it was punishing him, burning through him, consuming him with a need that was hot enough to make him howl beneath the bull bandit.

The End