FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A Study of Connections

Part 16

For a-lycotonum

By Draconicon

The punishment took some time, and when it was over, the moon had risen over the Temple of Erastil and the surrounding grounds. The forest had gone from green to gray, and the wood walls of the temple were a dull shadow of their former selves. Hazel lay in her mistress's bed while the elf left to take care of other business, mostly in the library. She didn't know what would happen to her next, but some part of her, some angry part, refused to take the command to go to sleep and be peaceful.

This isn't fair.

It was the part of her that had been claimed by Melchiresa, oddly enough, that was able to be angry, that was able to fight back against the orders of the hierarchy and say that this wasn't fair. It was that part that knew that Mistress Aster hadn't taken the role of mistress through any fair use of power, or through any ritual that was recognized by the church and those that lived within it. She had cheated, and her power meant nothing as a result.

Of course, a power that meant nothing could still be powerful, and that pendant...

She went hazy again for a moment when she focused on it, the mostly-conquered part of her mortal mind sliding towards the edge of that submission again. Then the demonic power reached out again, refusing to be leashed by someone that didn't deserve it.

No...no!

That part shouted at her, and she listened. She rolled slowly onto her side, running her hand along the pendant, feeling the magical power within it. There was no way for her to take it off, and for all she knew, it was warded against those that would try and help her with it. She couldn't ask them to take it without risking their lives.

So what was she supposed to do?

I...I...

There was no clear answer. She had been ordered to tell the hobgoblins to go away, which meant that the only one...only one...

Think! Be angry!

The demonic power pushed at her rage, feeding it, stoking it. Wasn't there something that she wanted from the hobgoblins, some[/i]one[/i] that she wanted?

Vakrozad...

Even in her foggy state, she blushed at the thought of that. She didn't mean to think of him wantingly, but she remembered how it felt to have the hobgoblin fucking her ass, how she had cum when he had used her, how she had surrendered to her heat and been made to feel good. Not just as a thing that was wanted, but as a person that was protected, someone that was there for the personal pleasure of someone else, and rewarded for what they did. Better than what she got from the mistress, by far.

She groaned, her face twisting, her furry toes curling, her pussy drenched with the idea of the hobgoblin again. She knew that he had other features, other things that were wrong with him, but...but he was a follower of Melchiresa as much as the others. Her god had all but abandoned her to the mercies of Mistress Aster. Maybe...

The demonic part of her wanted her to give in, but that little piece of her that still remembered the Arcanamirium knew that it couldn't be that simple. She couldn't just give in to the demons. Not without...

Not without proof. Not without some proof that it was better this way.

She closed her eyes, clenching her hands into fists. The screaming voices in her head seemed to gain others, but that had to be her imagination.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

The moon had risen, and as full as it was, there was nothing to stop the transformation. Vakrozad and his best warriors stormed over the steps of the temple, bearing swords of iron and steel, and they crashed into the wall of paladins that waited for them. There was no subtlety, no tricks, for the wereboars did not need it.

They were still in the process of transforming as they ran up the steps, but they had gone through it so many times that it did not debilitate them the way that it did those newly infected. Instead, they rushed forward, hopping and swaying and swinging around as their limbs deformed and grew, swelled, changed. Their thrown-off proportions, rather than weakening them, turned them into unpredictable foes that the paladins had no way of countering.

Vakrozad felt his feet turning to hooves, shedding his boots as he leaped from one stair to another. An elven paladin stood in his way, face twisting up in shock and fear. As the bulk of the wereboar started to fill out his arms, Vakrozad spun, throwing his shoulder into the elf rather than his blade. The sudden bulge that filled out his upper arm was enough to knock the elf off-balance, sending him falling to the ground without a word.

As the elf cracked his head against the stone, Vakrozad turned his attention to the nearest paladin. The elf's blade was already coming down, and he whipped his head around, catching the sword on the tusk that was already growing out from under his lip. It caught, rung his head with the impact, but it stopped the blade fast. It also shocked the paladin so much that he froze, leaving him vulnerable to a gut-punch and knocking him down.

The front line of the paladins faltered, pulling back towards the door. Vakrozad didn't give them room to regroup. He pointed his sword straight ahead, half-roaring, half-howling as he charged at them.

His men followed behind him, some more transformed, some less. The orange-hued skin that they had faded into a deeper red, the demonic side of their infection coming through. Worship of Melchiresa had allowed them some greater control of their bestial sides, something that allowed them to resist the call of the moon most months. However, tonight, they had thrown that all aside, focused entirely on building up their power so that they could accomplish their mission.

Vakrozad stopped holding back. The edge of his blade caught those that tried to stop him, and as his arms thickened, so did his killing intent. He brought the blade down on arms, on necks, one time right through the temple of one paladin that was intent on keeping him out of the temple. The sounds that he made slowly transitioned from the roaring of the wild warrior to the screaming whine of the forest boar as his snout grew in and the tusks pushed forward beneath it.

By the time that they secured the entryway, the paladins had been decimated. More than half their numbers had been cut down, either killed or knocked out, and those that survived had retreated deeper into the temple, doubtlessly to try and find their superiors and greater numbers further in. Vakrozad shook his head, shaking off the muck that had clung to his weapon.

"Injuries?" he grunted.

The rest of his warriors shook their heads. Whatever damage they'd suffered had been minor, little more than scratches now that they had had time to heal up. Their injuries healed quickly from their lycanthropic nature and from the blessing of the demon lord. They were all but unkillable, at least to normal weapons.

"Alright. Then -"

"Wait."

He turned slowly at the quiet word, as did the rest of the wereboars on the steps. They looked down to see a number of townsfolk moving up to the base of the steps. Some carried torches, while others carried pitchforks, and still others carried chunks of wood that they wielded rather clumsily as clubs.

One of his men started to raise their weapon, but Vakrozad stopped him with a raised arm. He cocked his head to the side.

"You don't think you can stop us, do you? Look what happened to them," Vakrozad said, gesturing around him at the bodies.

"We're..."

It was a young woman, one of the collared. She stepped forward from the crowd, followed by an older man that might have been her father. She looked back at the older man, got a nod in return, and looked back at Vakrozad.

"We're not here to stop you. We're here to help."

"...What?"

"We're here to help," the old man said, stepping forward and leaning on his club like a cane. "The church...they've lost their minds."

"..."

The wereboar slowly smiled. The idea that the town might have been unhappy had never occurred to him, but this was something that he could work with, and then some. They would be a perfect distraction, and it might just slow the paladins down if they thought that they were dealing with more of their own people than the wereboars. They could be meat shields, and they could be more.

"Alright...let's do this."

Hazel lifted her head as she heard the sound of roaring, screaming, clanging, and more in the rooms below. The young half-elf managed to get herself to an upright position, sitting up on the bed, but the pendant prevented her from taking any further actions to see what was going on. She had to stare straight ahead, forced to stay on the bed, forced to sit with her legs spread and her dog pussy shamefully on display.

Shamefully...

The word came to her in a strange way, almost like it was supposed to be a punishment, but her body loved the doing of this too much. The action of showing off felt right, proper, like she was a good bitch showing off her cunt for whatever stud happened to come along. It made her wet.

At least, until the demon side corrected her.

You must be worthy of a proper stud, just like the proper stud should be worthy of you. The better ones will make you pregnant. The lesser ones would soil your womb.

The idea was...pleasant, in a way, thinking that she had to be worthy of someone but that her partner had to be worthy of her, as well. Otherwise, it wouldn't be equal, would it? It wouldn't be right. There had to be someone that was good enough, strong enough, powerful enough, and right enough for her to make a good match.

Vitus...

The thought of her friend, her one-time lover, was something that appealed, but he was so far away, and he had turned so far from the corruption once he realized just how much he had to lose, what he had done in its grip. As much as she had approved then, was that the right course for someone that she needed to be with? Someone that would turn away from the strength that would save him, one day?

Something...something's wrong...

She had saved herself for Vitus, but would he have done the same? Would the coward do the same, after he had turned from the power that the demon lord had offered? He had been desperate to get rid of the curse, preferring to pretend that it had never happened rather than learning from it and growing from it. Was that the sort of mate that she needed?

Then who else?

She didn't know. Her mind wasn't working right. The demon side, the fury, the corruption, had its hands full just keeping her from falling down into that submissive haze again, of falling into sleep and waiting for the mistress to return. That would have been the easiest thing, to pretend that nothing was happening.

Was something happening, though? She could hear something, but it was so faint that it might have been her imagination, something happening at the edge of awareness, something so...so...

She was slipping again, and she barely cared. She leaned her head back, starting to fall into the sheets once more -

"AGH!"

And then a scream of pain jolted her out of it. She sat up, managing to get all the way to her paws before the haze seized her again. Stumbling, she managed to take another step, then two, then she fell to her knees. Conditioning, powerful conditioning from the pendant left her squatting there, her legs spread, her dripping cunt running down her legs and over her feet, pooling down there. She squatted in presenting pose, showing off everything about her canine features down there.

And there she was, posed just like that, as the door opened and the wereboar on the other side forced his way in.

Vakrozad. She knew it was him even in this form, seeing the familiar features in his eyes, his cheeks, his - oh, his cock. It was more bestial, but there was a scent to it that she caught and knew all too well. Her cheeks burned as she realized just how far she'd fallen if she was taking people in by smell, but there it was.

"Vak...Vak..."

She couldn't say his name completely, her head too fogged up, but she could recognize him. She tilted her head one way, then the other, panting softly as she wobbled on the balls of her feet. No, on the toes of her paws.

He looked at her, too, and she saw the fear in his eyes, the sudden realization. What was he seeing, she wondered? What had he seen that she did not?

Of all the things that he expected to see in the elf prude's quarters, he hadn't expected to see a mind-zonked Hazel naked as the day she was born, showing off her pussy as if she was back in a brothel somewhere. The sight turned him on. The smell did more, making his balls churn, making him want to take her right then and there.

But he knew his beast form, and he knew how to resist those instincts. At least, for now. He grinned at her, regardless, the lust burning through him as he approached. The clang-clang of blades on blades filled his ears, reminding him of the desperation of the mission.

They might have had the support of part of the town, but the clerics had magic, and those that were closest to the Aster bitch would use it on their own people, seeing them as sinners and irredeemables. That meant that the meat shields would be less shields and more meat in short order. They had to get this done, and fast.

He looked down at his hand. He'd pulled out one of the collars that his men had used in claiming their women in town. For all that he had told Hazel that he would let her set the pace, he knew that she wasn't going to be leaving this room without some help. That pendant had to be the problem, but only Mol would have some idea of how to remove that.

I can't just...

Oh, but he could. He could collar her, despite all his words to the contrary. He could collar her and put her under him, and that would give him the right to command everything that he wanted from her. Anything that she had said that she was saving could be his.

It would be his right. Not just as the one that collared her, but the one that saved her.

It was almost too much to resist. The only thing that stopped him from giving into that primal urge to take her and use her right then was the reminder that his men were under attack. The sudden scream from a wound stopped him from thinking with his dick.

Later. Collar now, fun later.

He walked up to her and slapped the collar around her neck, pulling it tight. Her eyes went from vacant to lucid in the space of a second, only for her to gasp. The sudden squirt of her juices down her legs told him something else had happened, but he didn't dare stop and ask.

"Follow," he grunted, and she got to her feet immediately. "We're getting you the hell out of here."

"Tristan," she muttered.

"No, Vakrozad."

"No...Tristan...they're going to...execute him."

"...Goddammit. Fine."

Hazel was still in a haze, but if the former one had been a fog, then this one was an inferno. It was a fire between her legs, a heat that was like no other that she had ever felt. The pendant's power had been completely overwhelmed, replaced by the lustful need to follow someone else.

That someone, in this case, was Vakrozad. She stared at him with utter worship as she followed behind, her eyes round and full with the power that he exuded. With the collar around her neck, she saw him as perfection, as a manly man, as someone that would be able to breed her and give her everything that she wanted.

It was an extension of what she had been thinking about, what the demonic side had said she deserved, so it was easy for her thoughts to follow that path. She grinned to herself as she followed at his heels, casting healing spells when she could and just staying out of the way when she had to. This was...this beast was someone that was brilliant, powerful, strong, and so...so...

So sexy...

It gave her submission a channel to follow, and she eagerly did, falling into it as she was led through the temple. The five warriors fought harder than any paladin that she had ever seen in training, and they were all but indestructible. The few wounds that they sustained that were more dangerous than the cuts and scrapes that healed almost instantly, she fixed with her power, touching them up with healing magic that drew from both the divine and the demonic. Even that didn't bother her anymore.

They fought through the tunnels until they reached the cells under the temple. Tristan was the only one among them, and he lunged for the bars as soon as the wereboars approached. She barely realized that she was naked as she stood before him, though he stared at her with utter shock.

"Hazel? What's going on?"

"She's not really here," Vakrozad said in front of her. "She's...she's under two different spells right now."

"What - the pendant."

"Yes. We're working on that. She told us to come for you."

"Okay. Let's get out of here, and you can tell me what's going on after that."

Hazel didn't pay that much attention to what was being said. Her eyes were all for Vakrozad at that moment, particularly for the way that he fought in the nude, for his cock, for those hefty balls. He had come for her, and he deserved a reward for that. She was already planning how she would offer herself up for him, how he might feel inside of her when they got to that point, and how she would take it further.

After all, she deserved a proper mate, and if she was going to be a hound, then she needed someone that could handle her...and satisfy her.

The fight for their freedom continued all the way from the temple to the forest, and even then, they had to push hard to get away into the trees. The paladins only stopped when they were once again forced to admit that they could not match the wereboars in combat, and Vakrozad himself had to do the final push, cutting off two heads at once. The blood cost for the paladins was high.

Then again, so was theirs. By the time that they reached the encampment, the whole group was speckled with blood. The only reason that the mission had succeeded had been because of Hazel's healing magic. Much as Vakrozad would have preferred to take credit for it, all he had been able to do was get them to the bedroom that Hazel was kept in. Her magic had been what kept them alive the rest of the way through the temple, down to the cells, and then out to the forest. If it hadn't been for that...

He ran his hand across his chest where one slash had managed to cut down to his ribs. He would have been able to heal from that eventually, but in the middle of a fight? No. He shook his head as he remembered the tingle of magic that had kept him alive for that encounter, and all the others that had followed.

Clerics definitely pull their weight, he thought, imagining what his clan could do if they had several of those in battle. It would make the whole thing so much more one-sided, but if they were able to win decisively each time, then the technique wouldn't spread, and they would be able to do it again and again. They would have an immortal front line, while the enemy just wasted their energy trying to take them down.

But that was for another time. For now, there were other things that needed handling. Gently pushing the clingy Hazel down from his arm and ignoring his own throbbing boner to the best of his ability, he turned back to Tristan. The former high priest was half-mutated himself, shaking his head as he sat down on a stump.

"I can't believe that it's come to this. Aster ripping the temple apart, and having to be rescued by..."

"Monsters?" Vakrozad asked, his tusks and snout slowly retracting into his face now that they were out of the moonlight.

"No. Just...from outside. A temple should take care of its own. It should not need to be rescued."

"Yeah, well, you did."

"Yes...we did." Tristan Drust shook his head. "What happened to Hazel?"

"That pendant, I'm guessing."

He gestured at the half-elf that had already gone back to her squatting pose, one that showed her off all too well. The temptation to just take her again, knock her off her feet and rut her, was almost overwhelming. He groaned under his breath, pushing his cock down against his thighs and closing his legs for the moment. The fact that she looked so proud, like some sort of show-dog as she showed herself off, was slightly disconcerting.

Yet, at the same time, altogether right. He had gone in, fought for the lady fair, and he had taken her from the prison cells that held her. That was deserving of a reward, if nothing else, and she was obviously offering -

He slapped himself. Hard. The crack of hand on cheek echoed through the clearing.

"What the..." Tristan shook his head. "Must you abuse yourself?"

"Better than letting my thoughts abuse me further."

"...I'll pretend that makes sense."

"The bitch is being a tease."

"...And I'd argue the language, but it's hard to deny that that is what she's becoming."

"Can you take that damn pendant off?" Vakrozad asked, looking at it and shaking his head. "It's probably making it worse."

"Yes, that...that's something I can do. Provided that Aster didn't secure it with too many other spells."

That was the main reason that he hadn't touched it. Despite the fact that he had a little demonic protection from worshiping Melchiresa, he wasn't that devoted a follower, and he knew for a fact that she would be happy to bitch-slap him for not doing what he was told sometimes. Or forgetting a sacrifice. Or not breeding some slut somewhere.

There was a long list of sins that he had committed before the Mistress of the Hunt, now that he thought about it.

Tristan, however, was better suited for this. He reached out, slowly running his fingers along the back of the pendant chain. The priest fiddled with it, occasionally muttering something under his breath. It didn't sound like counter-charms, but rather curses, and he couldn't help but smile. There was the young man that Mol had told him about, the camp follower that was brilliant, but always frustrated when things didn't go the right way.

Then, suddenly, there was a soft 'click.' The pendant chain was detached, and the pendant itself fell away. Vakrozad braced himself, wondering what was going to happen.

Hazel stared straight ahead as the fogginess disappeared, the flames of desire that the collar had been stirring suddenly flaring up. She was on the verge of a forced climax right then and there, and it only grew worse as she stared at the hobgoblin that had rescued her. The collar was calling to all the canine instincts that she remembered from her time at the Arcanamirium after her other transformation, that of submitting to the alpha, of giving in to the male that had taken her and claimed her.

More than that, it was telling her that this was right, that she had become that man's bitch, that she was treasured and prized. That...that was different, though still somewhat similar to the pendant.

Yet, at the same time, the sheer heat was slowly dying off. Even as her cunt and asshole continued to clench on empty air, she was feeling her thoughts returning. Her eyes felt less blinded by worship, though there was still a sense of respect there, a feeling of...not quite submission, but half-submission, that this was something worth having.

Slowly, she reached her hand up to the band around her neck, touching the front of it, feeling the smoothness. It was...nice. Different, but nice.

And it was magical. Very magical. Not quite demonic, but not far from it, either, with a hint of hell and corruption through it that she hadn't been able to detect when she was examining the collars around the young girls and young men in the village. This was something different, something that was meant to be...to be a mark...

To be devotion...

To be service...

To be pack.

She was in his pack, but not under him. Not in the same way. If she really pushed, if she ground herself against the spell, she could push herself to the point of becoming the alpha. That was something that Melchiresa's power allowed that the other binding did not. She could take control, if she really wanted to.

But...did she?

"Hazel?"

Vakrozad was still there, and his voice drew her out of her own thoughts. She was still dribbling, still heated, but no longer feeling the utter insatiable need that she had felt before. She looked up at him, and then down at herself, and then up at him.

"You rescued me," she said.

It surprised her. She was aware of how she had felt, how she had wanted him so badly when the two restraints and spells had been fighting each other, but now, she was speaking normally. The seductive, breathy tone that she had been planning was nowhere to be found. She was herself again, and that was a relief.

You offer more independence than I thought, Melchiresa...

Vakrozad nodded.

"Couldn't just leave the guard dog behind."

"That, and you were thinking that you'd like your bitch back," she said.

"Hazel!" Tristan hissed.

"He's thinking it, and we both know it."

Vakrozad almost looked offended for a moment, then the expression faded, and he chuckled. Shaking his head, he slumped back against his stump, crossing one leg over the other.

"Well, she's not wrong. Almost fucked her in Aster's room when I saw her posed the way she was."

"She was like...this?" Tristan asked. "That's against her doctrine, and by some way..."

"Looks like little miss High Priestess is having to fight her own corruption as much as anything else."

Hazel nodded, and they both turned back to her. She rubbed the back of her neck as she slowly pulled herself upright, sitting on a stump and keeping her legs closed. She couldn't do anything about her exposed breasts, so she just kept her arms at her sides, trying to ignore the way that the night air was slowly making her nipples harder.

"She's fighting corruption...corruption from me."

"What do you mean?" Tristan asked.

"I've...serviced her many times now. She's made me do it, forced me to pleasure her so that she can 'focus' on other things. Some of it has shifted from me to her. Not that she would ever admit it. It would always be my fault when she came and enjoyed it more than she felt she should."

"Frigid bitch," Vakrozad muttered.

"That's one way to say it," she agreed.

Though she had some serious evidence that Aster was nowhere near frigid with all the corruption that she had taken in, and now that the pendant was gone, she was all too aware of how hard she'd been used. Not just in the bedroom, but everywhere. The way that she had secured Aster's position as High Priestess, the way that she had been used as a spy, the way that she had given all kinds of information -

She slapped her forehead.

"Shit...shit, shit, shit..."

"Normally, I'd mention something about language, but that does describe our situation quite aptly."

"You have no idea. Aster knows about the Primal Points, and she knows as much as we do, now."

"...What?" Tristan whispered.

"How bad is this gonna get?" Vakrozad asked.

"Pretty bad," she said, looking down at the earth beneath her toes. "She knows what it takes to get there, and now that we've escaped..."

The hobgoblin looked her dead in the eyes, and she knew exactly what he was thinking. They were right back to the path that she had been trying to avoid. Maybe they had skipped a few steps that the vision had shown them, but they were right at that end point again. They were going to have a mob, perhaps even a holy army after them. Aster would be hot on their heels, wanting to take the Primal Point from them, wanting to do something with it, while they would be trying to do it for their own reasons.

Particularly her.

The Primal Point is the only thing that can fix me, now...that could fix us...

After all, Erastil was there. He could actually be released from his own bindings, spread his power through the world properly. It would mean that the priests would be able to fight the corruption of Melchiresa and other demons at a far more favorable level, and the evil of the world would be harder-pressed to fight back. There was nothing bad about that, but if Aster was the one to channel it...

I need to be there, she thought. I need to be at the Primal Point, I need to stop any of the hobgoblins from doing this wrong, and I need to keep Aster from trying to take control. This has to be me.

She looked down at her warped body, and despite all the pleasure that she'd gained from it, she wanted it gone. She wanted to go back to normal. She wanted all the old lines that she used to have between good and evil, between gods and demons, to be back where they used to be. It was so much easier...

Hazel reached up to her neck, touching the collar again. Vakrozad reached out for her -

"No," she muttered, shaking her head.

"No?"

"The vision had me wearing it, so I'll wear it for now. Until this is done, then you can take it off."

"...Sure I can't get you to do something fun for me, first?" the hobgoblin teased.

"..." She blushed. She could be made to do that, but...she wasn't going to say that she wanted it. Not with Tristan there, for sure.

The End

Summary: The rescue operation is mounted, and the nearness of the end is brought home to everyone.

Tags: F/solo, Nudity, Embarrassment, Mind Control, Hobgoblin, Wereboar, Half-Elf, D&D, Fantasy, Series, Magic, Collar, Wet, Squirting, Pleasure, Corruption, Rescue, Fighting, Blood,