Sinner's Culling

Dusk had fallen over the badlands. The tall stone cliffs cast their shadows over the barren earth, like dark fingers moving in the red light of the evening sun. Few people roamed these outlands, ever so occasionally dotted with patches of earth fertile enough to sustain a little settlement along the abandoned old roads. And thus, tax gatherers or emissaries of the noble houses rarely made it here, even with some of these villages holding old treasure from the Imperial times. Neither though did any of the Lord's Guard from the holds still remaining along the perimeter. It made the badlands the favorite prowling grounds for bandits. And of course, other unsavory elements, glad to be far away from the reach of law and diocese. Elements such as the lone man leaning against one of the pillars of sandstone, hood pulled close to ward off the moaning winds, feline eyes gleaming as he drew in the air the wind was carrying towards him. His nostrils flared. His mouth twisting into a vicious grin. Murmuring a few words, he traced a sigil in the air, leaving behind trails of flowing energy that hung there, undisturbed by the wind, like dark blood oozing from wounds his claws had raked, oily and gleaming faintly purple. They stirred as his hands were twisting jagged patterns and the hoarse words hung in the air, seeming to cut through the howl of the wind.

"Oh, I got you now, you bastards...", he growled under his breath when finally, the oozing symbols twisted into a sleek shape, like an arrow made of glistening oil, flying into the distance, until all that was left was an almost imperceptible, hair thin thread, stretching through the air, faintly pulsing like a sickly blood vessel.

"Fools. To think you can take what is mine and elude me...", he growled, throwing back his hood, revealing the face of a cougar, strangely youthful and weathered at the same time. A faint discoloration of his fur hinting at an old scar running from his forehead, over his right eye, right across his face. His hand twitched, curling into vicious claws as he left deep gouges in the sandstone of the outcroppings of rock he had been taking shelter behind.

"Dirty lowlifes like you, oh, yes, you will learn what you get for trying to claim the gift of the great father and squander it like that..."

The cougar growled, stretching his limbs, his body flexing, his shadow seeming to flicker for a moment as he moved, not in a run, but more quickly than the leisurely movements should be able to allow for. And as the sinking sun cast his shadow over the barren earth, it was hard to tell whether it was only a trick of the light that made his groin bulge in an almost obscene fashion...

"Aaaaah!", the young bovine let out a startled scream, as suddenly, the links of the whirling metal chain bit into his flesh. He had not seen it coming, way too focused on his opponent, but he barely managed to hold onto the shaft of his spear. Shame only that the snarling polecat now closing the distance just struck it out of his hand, making it clatter to the ground uselessly, before he followed with a swift kick to his stomach. He lost his balance, unable to resist as the chained snapped tight and his other attacker, laughing wildly, sent him right into the dirt and dragged him through the dust like a ragdoll.

He had been the last man, and barely one at that, all the others were already down - or dead...

The sand was speckled with blood, blood of men he had known all his life.

"Hey, I had him! Don't ya go messin with my fight, you dumb mutt!", the polecat snarled in the direction the chain had struck from. His short fur was bristling, his teeth bared. The young bull could see he was missing one of his canines, the top right one. And looking up from the dirt, he also had a very good view of the obscene bulge in the man's groin. Leather drawing tight over the outlines of balls the size of big oranges and a cock that even flaccid was bigger than any he had seen erect...

"Heh, quit your yapping, was getting bored with how long you were takin' with the boy, so I thought ta speed it up a lil'!", the canine voice made it all to clear he was spoiling for a fight, But just as the polecat seemed about ready to fling himself at his fellow raider, a large wolf rose from where he had been perched lazily on the big stone steps of the village temple and the bandits stopped immediately as he stepped between them. The short gray fur could barely conceal the many scars criss-crossing his bare chest, covered only by a small breastplate and thin straps of leather, crudely adorned with gold, his heavy leather loincloth completely failing to hide an endowment that dwarfed the polecat's by as much as the large canine was dwarfing him in height.

"Calm down you two. No need to squabble among ourselves, not when we have a whole, beautiful village at our disposal now. With a whole beautiful bunch of lasses and some nice, strapping young lads...", he leered, licking over his chops as he let his gaze wander over the crowd of villagers, gathered around the edge of the town square, herded together by the growling wolves, foxes, coyotes and occasional mustelids, who had fallen upon them. And who had already killed or overpowered all of their few defenders...

A shiver went through the bull's body as he saw the wolf walking towards him, saw the massive cock swinging lewdly. His cheeks flushed as he came closer. He could not tell whether it was the deep voice, the bulging muscles, the oversized cock, or maybe the heat and faint air of manly swagger the bandit chief exuded, but to his shame, it stirred something in him. Something that made him glad he was laying on his belly in the dust. He felt sweat running down his flanks. And given he also had not much more than a leather breastplate, it made the short brown fur covering his quivering body glisten in the sunlight beating down on them. He gulped nervously, feeling their gazes lingering on him...

"Well, first of all, I think a little further demonstration is in order. I mean, you fought bravely, boy, but, see...", the wolf leered, chuckling as one of his feet brushed against him, as if he was toying with the battered bovine youth, "we cannot have defiance. Can't let those grasseaters think they can stand up to their betters. That's why...", he growled, taking his ax, playfully sliding the hook at its back down between the leather straps holding the young bull's breastplate, making him whimper and freeze as the blade brushed his naked fur. The snap of leather felt unnaturally loud, then a twist, another snap and the armor was yanked away, leaving the trembling young warrior half naked in the dirt...

"That's why you two hotshots now get to bury your quarrel, and your cocks, in that nice tight ass and show them where their lot belongs!"

Raucous laughter greeted the wolf's words, laughter he himself joined, before giving the young bull a kick, flipping him over and stepping back to let his two opponents approach. And both of them had their eyes fixed on the now only all too noticeable bulge that was tenting the bull's tight leather leggings.

"Hehe, aaah, just wanted us to use our other swords on ya, boy? Why didn'tcha just say, we could've made that so much nicer for you...", the polecat chuckled, leaning down, looking him into the eyes as he licked his lips. The bull felt claws scratching over the leather, a knife blinking as it slid from its sheath, while the wild dog drew in from the other side, his bulging cock and balls looming above his head, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from them. It should not do what it did to him...

But something about the obscenely swollen manhood seemed to touch something deep inside. Something that made him both excited and disgusted - partly with himself and his body's betrayal.

"Oh, and if ya try ta bite or kick or anything, just so ya know, we'll slit the throat of that cow that had been callin' ya name earlier. Ya girl? Or ya sister?" The canine chuckled as he felt the bull tremble under his touch as his fingers went through his hair, yanking his head to look up at him.

"Guess ya don't want to see us do that to her either way, huh? Don't think ya want to watch us have some fun with her while she's still warm, do ya now?" The gleaming predator eyes kept locked on the young bovine until whimpering in defeat, he nodded.

"Hah, I see ya get it, now be a good boy", the canine bandit chuckled, just as he felt the scrape of the blade as the polecat cut through his leather leggings. It was not quick like with the breastplate. This was a drawn out game, the knife dancing close to his manhood, every time with a lewd comment.

"Ah, don't ya get so excited, we will breed you good and hard for all your friends to see, but we don't want ta have ta spill the contents of ya nutsack, ya get me?"

The canine, not occupied with the knife, instead busied himself running his hands over the bull's body, toying with him like a piece of meat, twisting his nipples until they grew pert, only to make crude jabs about how they were almost as stiff as his cock. And finally, he half lifted him up, with embarrassing little effort, to present him to the crowd as the last of his modesty slid away, leaving him flushed with embarrassment, naked and visibly aroused for everyone to see.

The young bull could not meet anyone's eyes, but he could hear the mixture of shocked gasps and merciless, raucous laughter.

"Ah, fuck the boy already, don't you see how eager he already is?", one raider, a lanky fox jeered.

"Then get me something to prop him up, I want'em all to see!"

More jeers followed, as the gathered townsfolk just looked on, with a mix of horror and morbid fascination as the young bull was put on a sturdy wooden crate, naked, lying on his back,his chest heaving, his eyes turned away from them and his arousal still plainly visible.

He was not the only one though. And none of the mainly rodent and ungulate population of the town could quite explain why their bodies seemed to react with a shameful shiver to the sight of the bandits' grotesquely big manhoods. Balls were ranging from the size of a pair of big apples to small melons, and even flaccid, their cocks were as thick as some of the young squirrels' arms, all of them too big for any clothing, let alone their leather loincloths and tight leggings, to offer even the slightest bit of modest concealment. It was a shameless display of untamed, wild virility. And the lusty shiver they engendered was the most unbearable to those who had lost brave defenders, whose still warm bodies were now lying dead in the dust or in a few cases knocked out cold. But whether the latter was a mercy or not, it was hard to say when they looked at the unfortunate young bull, the two raiders now leaning over him, ready to play with their prey...

"No use trying ta hide that, just spread ya legs, boy!", the polecat growled, giving his words some emphasis with a sharp slap to the young bull's firm ass. He yelped, they laughed and it took only a bit more rough coaxing until his ass cheeks were parted to reveal a quivering, slightly pinkish ring of muscle, the boy just looking on with wide eyes as the polecat let his own tight leathers slide to the ground, stroking his already obscenely engorged cock, the enormous glans already leaking a copious amount of translucent, viscous wetness. It was obscenely big. And he wasn't even close to the biggest one among the raiders. The bull was trembling violently. And still, his own cock was throbbing, blood rushing to his groin as he went limp with terror, looking at that viciously snarling face as the polecat rubbed the tip of his length over the bull's tight pucker, like a wet, sticky kiss...

"Ah, don't ya worry, I'll make sure it all fits in nice and tight...", he chuckled with wicked pleasure, rubbing his glans over the still tightly sealed entrance to the young bull's body, making sure to leave him dripping with his slick, warm precum before he started to prod his sphincter with it.

"Hey, no neglectin' me, boy!", the canine was growling from above him, his own cock swollen and leaking, dripping warmly down on his flushed cheek. The smell and the heat of it was overpowering. But the dizzy feeling was maybe a mercy. And if so, then it would be the only one he would get...

"Suck it!", the dog growled, and the bull had no choice but to open his mouth. The head was big, way too big. He could never fit that! He could never fit the polecat on the other end!

...but he knew he could not do anything but try. The image of seeing Alia, his gentle sister, grabbed by her flax blonde hair, a sharp blade to her throat was enough to quell any thought of rebellion. So, he did all he could. He opened his mouth, starting to lap and lick over the impossible big glans. The dog yipped with pleasure, grabbing him by his shoulders. The message was clear. More!

And all the while, the polecat, not out of kindness, did his best to spread him, get him slick with his precum, prodded his pucker with his obscenely big cock. He was afraid what he would do if, no matter how much he forced it, he would not get in. It made the bull desperate, trying his best to spread, unclench, let the raider inside...

His cheeks burned with shame as he spread his jaws achingly wide to take in the dog's cock, just as finally, the polecat slid in, slick and greasy, with a panting snarl. It hurt. And none of the times with the older guardsmen were enough to prepare him for it. Many a time they had gotten him to strip down after training, bend over the sturdy fence, with some spare leather to cushion the rough wood so they all could slake their pent up lust after some hard, sweaty workout, but not even the biggest cock could measure up to this. It made him feel feeble like a rag-doll that was just about to split at the seems, about to have everything spill out...

The dog grabbed his jaws, maybe afraid he would clench his teeth on his monstrous cock, adding even more pain as he tried to force him to open wider, his hips bucking as he was trying to fuck his mouth.

The bull tried to suppress the helpless gag reflex, knowing there would be no mercy. He hurt so baldy. And it still, shamefully, humiliatingly felt so good...

His cock was stiff, his body was trembling. And the dull, dizzy feeling of getting drunk on the pain and the shame was the only bit of respite he would get. His body felt strange and hot where his jaws were being forced apart, where his hole was being torn wide open. He felt like warm wax, slowly burned up for the pleasure of a warm body, growing pliant, as if he was slowly melting while he was being worked by them...

None of them wasted any touch on his aching cock. But that did not matter, it still had gotten slick and slippery with his own precum running down along his throbbing shaft. Claws were digging into his fur and skin. His still rather small horns occasionally bumping against the wood as the wet, organic slapping sounds of his body being used echoed through the town square.

He had been wrong in one regard for sure though.

It did fit. They had made it fit. His nose was pushing right into the warm, heavy balls as the engorged cock pushed right down into his throat, adding lack of air to the dizzying, blessed drunken haze that took away some of the worst pain. The polecat by now had sunken into him to the hilt, like a sword sliding into warm, pulsing flesh...

"Hehe, aw look, he's coming apart. He's bulging out where you are fucking him. Think he'll suffocate on my dick?!", the voice of the canine, giddy with cruel excitement, seemed weirdly distant. His claws were digging into his scalp, but it felt somehow secondary to the raw, pulsing sensation of the warm, throbbing cock, pushing into his throat. To the warm, salty taste as the monstrous shaft kept slamming into him.

Finally, he could taste the flood of warm semen as the dog emptied into his mouth and throat and at last, all over his face when he pulled out, making his head fall back to hang limply over the crate, staring into the blue sky framed by the looming figure of the canine with his obscene, dripping dick.

The polecat was still fucking him. It felt, felt good, hurt, hot, too much...

Someone was gripping his hand, putting it on his own abdomen. Something was sticking out from it. No, something was making flesh and skin and fur bulge out. Right above his own throbbing dick, the outline of a cock, even more obscenely thick, wrapped in flesh and skin and fur.

He let out a helpless whimper, then he felt the explosion of something warm and wet, frantic thrusting as the polecat kept slamming into him until it was gushing out thick and hot and sticky from his spread ass cheeks. A last violent thrust, a final eruption of slick heat. Then, he was tumbling into the dirt, lying there, whimpering, twitching helplessly, feeling broken, unable to move his sore jaw. Was it broken? He felt like it. He felt broken. And he was still hard. The polecat was now standing over him, leering at him, raising one of his legs as if to kick him. He had no strength left to do anything but lie there...

It was no kick though. Instead, he felt the foot firmly planting down on his throbbing cock.

"Well, guess we broke the lad. Heh, seemed to like it though, huh?", the polecat chuckled, starting to jerk his foot back and forth over the slick, throbbing cock. The bull's desperate, whimpering, lusty moan was loud and clear.

"Give the boy a reward, don't think he will last too long, so you better hurry. And next time, don't break them that quickly, alright? I bet you boys all are plenty pent up, so you better make sure the good ones last for a bit!"

The big wolf's voice was loud and clear, but even his impressive form could not tear away the eyes of the crowd from the spectacle for too long. The young bovine guard's body, gleaming with sweat in the harsh sun, looked more than beaten and bruised, like a figure made of not quite baked clay, twisted under rough fingers, his tongue lolling out, his body spasming weakly, as the polecat quickly began to jerk his foot over the throbbing dick. It did not take long. His feeble cry sounded desperate and choked, as if his voice had been mangled along with his jaws. Sticky white painted his gleaming chest. Some of them might have hoped that the final humiliation would be the end. But the young bull was still lying there, broken and whimpering. And the dog who had snagged his weapon arm with his chain had a wickedly cruel expression on his face, as he began to take his big, bulging cock into both hands, starting to stroke it firmly...

"Hey, I wanted ta do'im in!", the polecat snarled, but the wild dog just growled back, pointing his cock in his direction. It was bigger than it had been before. Bigger than when it had pushed into the bull's throat. And it's slit was gaping and drooling thick, goopy ropes of precum.

"Ya had his ass and ya got to play with him! And you're too small for it to boot! Ya can fuck him into my cock if you like!"

The polecat hissed, spitting out, before taking his own cock and starting to stroke, getting it back to full erect size. The canine let out a triumphant growl, his own shaft bobbing and swelling, just as the polecat's started to swell with another slow, two-handed jerk. The contest had a clear winner, no one could argue that. Defeated, the mustelid finally just shook his head, snarled, but then grabbed the bull's trembling legs, forcing them apart and pressing his cock against the ruined opening.

"Kh, fine! But next time, I'll be having tha prey and ya can have my sloppy seconds!"

And with that, the bull's fate was sealed. He was past the point were he really could take in much more, but when the canine's cock pushed against his head, precum oozing over his hair, matting it down slick and slimy, when the now truly gargantuan head split into the dark, gaping maw of his cum slit, something deep down inside him recognized the predator. And recognized also that he was helpless to do anything. All he could do was let out a pathetic, bleating cry, before his head was engulfed and he was slowly sucked into the dark, slimy heat. And still, despite having been made to spill his load all over his broken body, the young bull went rigid with a shameful, unnatural lust...

The pain of being fucked was almost bearable now. Almost as if his violated body rejoiced at being filled again. He was shifted, moved about. But it did not really matter to him. Only to the crowd, watching with shock and awe as the toned body slowly but steadily was sucked and pushed into the impossibly big cock. Watching as the bull's own erection bobbed and slapped against his sweat gleaming abdomen, bulging from the brutal fucking. They watched him squirm like a worm on the hook. Watched the raiders' bodies jerking, groaning, the canine's balls already bigger than two large pumpkins as he seemed to buckle under the weight of them and his prey. He ended up letting himself fall down on the wooden crate, as a squelching suck and a groaning thrust by the polecat sent the bull in up to his twitching cock, rubbing against the slimy lips of the gaping slit. For a moment, it seemed to act like a painfully straining anchor, preventing him from fully sliding in. But it was not for long until the young bovine's cock gave in to the stimulus of rubbing and teasing against the slick, slimy lips of the slit. The crowd watched his body spasm helplessly as his thick white seed mingled with the gushing precum. And then, whether it was his spent cock turning more flaccid, or just one pull and push providing just the right angle for it to finally slide in, the bovine was just sucked in, the monstrous cock making an obscene, slick, wet noise as he vanished to his twitching feet and then, all the way down until his vague outline bulged out the huge balls...

"Hnnnnh, oh, yes, that, that's just right, squirm just a little more, helps me melt you down...", the canine raider groaned. With a dreamy, almost euphoric expression, he began to fondle his cock, rub his balls. There was a weird, deep, churning vibration coming from them, filling the town square. Like a background music to the growls of pleasure the canine let out and the breathy moans of the polecat, sitting on the ground, looking blissfully spent with thick, gooey semen still dripping from his freshly spent cock.

"Hey, fetch one of those squirrel boys there, I think Rand could do with a helping hand, and, maybe a mouth!", the leader chuckled, gesturing towards a trio of three lanky but toned, red furred youths at the front of the crowd. They were too stunned to react, before a dark furred wolf grabbed one and dragged him forward, the boy's startled cry cut short when he had his bushy tail yanked roughly, given a kick to his back and then sent stumbling right towards the raider, whose cock by now was thicker than the young squirrels chest.

"Heard the leader, didn't ya, boy?", the lust drunk dog growled, patting his throbbing dick and then his swollen balls, throwing the obviously terrified youth a dirty, leering look.

"Either ya do a good job helping me turn your friend there into a nice, thick load of jizz, or I'll see if I can't fit another one in..."

The Raiders let out raucous laughter, the boy looked at them, like a panicked animal caught in a trap. Then, trembling all over, the squirrel just nodded with a whimper and half walked half crawled towards the bandit. Heat and the heavy scent of sex greeted him. And when he started to slowly reach out to touch the swollen balls, he could still feel the weak movement of the bull inside...

His throat went tight, his mouth felt dry. Pressing his eyes shut, trying to swallow down the desperate whimper, he slowly, steadily started to stroke...

Mercifully, it did not take long for the form of the bull to grow softer. Not long until the movements stopped, with a last, feeble moan before his outlines vanished, leaving just smooth, swollen flesh. But that just meant that the worst part was still to come. The squirrel gulped, looking at the giant cock.

He needed to wrap both arms around the obscenely engorged shaft. And it made the heat and other things almost unbearable. He could feel every twitch, every shiver of pleasure. And he felt dirty for doing what he did. Knowing what had been fueling the perverse ecstasy. It was merciful that no one spared his own stiffening cock any attention. And thus, when the wild dog let out a bellowing cry, when the thick, warm fountain of seed splattered from his cock, he only had to endure the humiliation of being forced to lap up the warm, salty liquid, let himself be covered in it till he was sticky and dripping, the red of his fur hidden by the pearly white. Then, they forgot about him, let him slink away with the taste of a friend's slimy remains in his mouth. And allowed him to hide behind the backs of the others, get out of the semen dripping clothing and be left alone with his rigid, throbbing erection...

The bandits though were far from done. Now that the demonstration was over, it was the leader's turn to rise from his perch and get in front of the crowd looking down with a wicked grin on the gathered mass of villagers, strutting in front of their temple, whose treasures already had been piled up in a heap, the doors split with the strokes of axes, the interior desecrated.

"Now, I think we understand each other, right?", the wolf let his leering gaze wander over the rows of rodents, of bovines, who had all looked on with shocked fascination. He slowly patted his own groin.

"If you disobey your new masters, well, we have plenty more hungry balls and hungry mouths, Meanwhile you have so many nice young lads and lasses...", he let his gaze linger, over the young men and women, the prey staring at the hunter who had them cornered. Cattle in the stable, looking at the butcher.

"So, go now, bring us wine. Make your most handsome daughters pour it for us. Make your young lads bring us cheese and grapes and fresh bread and honey. And who knows, maybe we can be content for now, even without some nice, juicy meat to gobble down..."

With the last words, the wolf suggestively licked his lips, looking first at some of the young cows, one of them, a flax blonde one, weeping, leaning against her friends; and then over to two bare chested, rather well toned donkey boys. It did only take a soft, menacing growl, before the first few among the shocked crowd began to spring into action.

Tables piled with food soon were carried to the square, followed by jugs of wine, then blankets, carpets and pillows to make the bandits' lair. Like a crude, cruel mockery of a market fair, where the merriment was only with the band of raiders, guzzling wine from the jugs fetched for them, tearing into cheese and bread and whatever else the frightened villagers brought them.

Overhangs out of canvas and wooden poles gave shade from the sun, still high in the air. The bodies of the young villagers, especially the young bovines and equines, were gleaming with sweat as they struggled with large jugs, whole wheels of cheese and plates full of other food and drinks. And it did not take long for the bandits to grab hold of the more comely ones, dragging them under an overhang or, especially if they weren't compliant, pushing them down on a wooden block, right in the bright sun. They had seen the young bull, so most of them ceased their struggles once they knew they could not make a quick escape. But just like him, shame was burning their faces when they were lifted up, for all to see as not a single one managed to remain flaccid under the lusty assault of the bandits' engorged cocks. None of them was spared the indignity of being made to cum, thick ropes of semen erupting from their twitching cocks as they in turn were being flooded by warm seed. None of them could resist the shameful longing for the crude, unashamed masculinity, the heat, the slick feel of a throbbing shaft spearing them like a helplessly thrashing fish on a harpoon.

When they were left to a merciful reprieve, lying spend and gaping in the dirt or on the rugs, cheeks burning and still feeling the afterglow of the thick shaft spreading their insides, it was perhaps the only solace for them that so many of the bandits seemed to especially delight in publicly humiliating young men. As it was their own humiliation that spared their sisters, cousins and lovers from the same fate. With the women, there seemed to be a greater desire for privacy. Some might be taken under the shadow of the overhangs, but more often, the bandits would drag their victims off to an alley or into an abandoned building. It was a small mercy, but it made the brutal humiliation more bearable for the young males. At least at first...

"Boss, by all demons of hell this is just not a proper feast without some meat!", one of the bandits, a big, brown wolf was spitting out a chunk of bread crust, taking a large, angry gulp from his wine jug, as he stood up, eyeing the platters of food with a growl. His eyes were wandering over the crowd. He had not been the first one to grumble though. As copious as the food was, the villagers all were herbivores.

"No worries, I already ordered them to bring some of their livestock", the leader patted an elderly goat standing by him, who was visibly cringing at the attention. The elderly male with his simple brass chain around the neck had been dragged from the crowd and had been in a quiet, if none the less tense conversation with the imposing wolf, occasionally interspersed by soft growls and menacing snarls on one end and bleating whimpers on the other.

"This old goat here is their mayor, and I was just making clear to him that if they are no good at butchering, well, we can be nice lads and do it for them. Had to explain to him though that if they don't want to have us roast some chicken, goats or, well, maybe a cow or two, well, we already seem to be having some rather fine cows gathered here and goats, too, of course", at that, he let his gaze linger on the older man, suggestively licking his lips", who I am sure would cook just as well."

The goat seemed close to fainting, his eyes widening, his wispy beard bobbing up and down as his trembling jaws seemed to try to form pleading words, before his gaze darted to the gathered crowd, tears in his eyes. It took a heavy moment of silence, before the first among the gathered villagers began to move, their eyes lowered, not wanting to look any of their neighbors in the eyes. And none of them spoke as farmers, herders and chicken breeders went away to bring their charges...

The raiders though were snickering, calling after the villagers, pelting them with obscene taunts and cruel jeers, some of them even making a point to throw the already offered food into the dust.

"Well, boss, I do want some meat now though!", the brown wolf, feeling confident, was on his feet, strutting over the market square, giving the villagers remaining a fierce, hungry look. Some of them already had started bringing bundles of wood, setting up little fires, like they might on the solstice festivals. He did not pay any attention to the mayor, finally released, who was busily shuffling to the back of the crowd, head lowered until he was in the shadowy doorway of the apothecary. In fact, none of the raiders paid him much attention. Especially not the large, brown furred wolf, even when he thought he had seen some movement at the corner of his eyes, there in the house, reeking of strong herbs and strange essences. And even if any of them had looked closer, they likely would have dismissed the cloaked figure inside for a curtain moving in the wind...

No, the wolf's gaze was lingering on a young, still quite coltish looking horse, whose bare chest was showing off trim, toned muscle beneath light brown fur. He licked his lips as he strode towards him...

"You mind if I have my fill? I always liked my meat raw anyway. And always had a thing for horse!"

He waited only for the chief to give him a shrug and a nod, before making his move. The boy was too busy trying to set the fire. He only realized what was happening to him when suddenly, a big, strong hand grabbed him from behind. The young horse let out a panicked whinny as he instinctively tried to struggle free and bolt away.

"By all demons, hold still, boy!", the wolf snarled, grabbing the horse's mane and violently pulling back. It did not really help things. It merely made the young male's eyes roll back as he bucked wildly. And for a moment, it looked almost as if the brown wolf might have to let go...

Then, suddenly, the lead wolf moved. Closing the distance, his fist struck the young horse hard in the head, making the equine gasp and his panicked struggles stop long enough for the lead wolf to roughly take his head between his hands, forcing him to look right into the cold, pitiless amber eyes.

"That is enough. I told you dumb grasseaters that we now own you. If one of us takes you, you behave. You obey. You do whatever you are told to. And if that means you are to suck cock before we eat you alive, you will do it. You know why?", he growled, his grip around the horse's head tightening, making the young male whimper with pain, as he looked back with panicked confusion, stammering weak words under his heavy breath, not daring to move one limb as the claws dug into his skin.

"No? Well, then I will tell you once more, so that even dumb horses and cattle understand. It's quite simple after all. If any of you lads tries anything, if you do anything but serve us as the good little beasts of burden you are, we will take whoever shows the most concern for you, a mother, lover, maybe a little sibling or a deer old dad. And we will take our sweet time showing you just what happens if you defy us. You will get to watch. Watch as we roast them over the fire. And then, once you see us crack the last bone and slurp up the last bit of marrow. You will suck us off. And then you will be next. Raw or cooked, maybe we will even let you choose..."

The bandit's leader gave the horse a last growl, blowing his hot breath into his face, before he let go, giving the young male a final slap on his ass, before he strode back to his resting place looking very smug as his gaze traveled across the rows of villagers. None of them dared to look back, they all had their gazes lowered. And all of them could only too clearly hear as the young horse, still trembling, was doing his best to work his mouth on the swelling erection of the brown wolf. He did not dare to stop, even when his jaws ached. Sweat was running down his flanks, his eyes bulging as he almost choked on the swelling erection. It was big and the wolf obviously delighted in tormenting him. He did not make it easy for the young male. And he kept taunting him, made sure everyone saw his own cock swell to full hardness under the strange spell the obscene manhood of the bandit seemed to put on him.

"You're not supposed to be pleasuring yourself boy, you're to pleasure me!", the wolf jeered, pushing his leg against the horse's own, by normal standards rather big, cock. It was leaking. And he could see the shame in the young stallion's eyes. The dull, broken look of someone cracking beneath the humiliation. He was really trying his best, but to the bandits, it was all the more fun to keep him wriggling, taunt him, some even moving over, slapping his butt, until one just started to take his exposed asshole roughly. That was when the brown wolf looked up, snarling at the lean hyena, who had been doing the deed, still up to his balls in the stallion.

"You're not jizzing in my food, I am eating that!", he growled and eventually, the hyena left, leaving the horse's ass sore and gaping as he took himself another villager. But the wolf finally seemed to have enough of drawing things out. He grabbed the horse by the mane, letting out a wild snarl as he thrust his hips, right into the straining mouth. The horse cried out, his jaws aching, his throat clogged with throbbing meat. He was suffocating. He, he could not breathe. But he did not dare resist. And finally, the salty flood came. His vision was blurring, his lungs aching, but then, finally, it was over and he coughed and spit out warm, salty seed. Laughter was echoing through the town square. But the young male could only weakly struggle for breath as his muscular body, shining with sweat, was writhing on the floor where he had been left. Cock hard and aching all over. His respite was not for long though. The looming shape of the wolf was towering over him. And then, he felt big, strong hands clasping around his wrists. The gaping maw was stretched obscenely wide, the teeth pulling apart, the face distorted into a nightmarish vision of gaping flesh and slimy darkness. And then he was diving in, hands forced against the warm, soft flesh of the throat, gripping him hungrily as the wolf's hands shifted, hoisting him up beneath his armpits, shoving him right in. The horse only let out a last, panicked whinny, his heart thumping with panic, his body too battered to do more than spasm helplessly as the slimy slick tongue started to slurp over his chest and belly and, then over his shamefully stiff cock...

His cry was muffled as the warm, clinging feeling overwhelmed him. His balls tensed, his asshole, the worn out ring of muscle, drew tight, relaxed, drew tight again as his release hit him. Hooves kicking weakly as the wolf let out a muffled growl, swallowing more quickly. He was spitting horse cum as soon as the firm ass was done sliding down his throat, taking a moment to compose himself as he more slowly savored the muscular legs, while the other raiders jeered and laughed.

"Thought you preferred them raw? Don't like a bit of extra sauce, ey? Haha, guess you are better at sucking cock than that grasseater with how quickly you made him cum!"

The wolf glared at them, making a point to show off as he wolfed down his meal, patting his squirming belly, running fingers over the outlines of still weakly moving horse inside.

"Oh, want me to show you, eh? I sure have room for one more, if you want to see what it's like!"

That earned another round of laughs, this time, the band turning on the last speaker, shoving him forward and taunting him crudely, until the bandit twisted out of their grip with a snarl, strutting over to one of the spits where meat by now was roasting, cutting off a still bloody chunk and making a show of tearing into it as he gulped the hot meat down. Then, making sure they still had their eyes on him, he let his gaze travel over the crowd of villagers, locking his eyes on a pretty dormouse girl, walking towards her, glaring fiercely at the two males trying to timidly block his path, grabbing her by the wrist, before dragging her into one of the alleyways. Everyone was laughing as they heard the girl scream. But soon, there was better entertainment. And no one noticed the shadowy, cloaked figure that moved into the alley shortly after...

Some of the bandits had made the villagers erect a wooden platform, before pointing at some of the most attractive young women and men from the crowd, yelling at them to come to the stage.

"Dance for us, grasseaters! Show us the meat on your bones!"

And frightened and shaking as they were, the young men and women, the squirrels, dormice, goats and horses complied. And as the bandits beat the rhythm, with clubs on shields or feet on the sand, they danced. Danced as the dead farm animals turned on the spits, as the raiders emptied jugs of wine, as they tore chunks of still bloody meat from the bones. Danced as girls who could not escape the aimless grasping hands of half drunk men were dragged into the shadows and boys were made to spread their legs over barrels and crates, left gaping or broken and sometimes shoved into hungry mouths or oozing cock slits. And no one dared to lift a finger when one of the dancers were dragged under cruel laughter right from the stage, as the sky slowly turned from the height of midday into the cooler afternoon, ever so slowly tinting red as evening loomed. And neither did any of the bandits care when some of them did not come back from the alleys where they had gone to have a young woman, or occasionally a young man, in quiet...

By now, it was not only animals roasting on the spits. Any inhibition the raiders might have felt gave away to lust drunk frenzy. Screams of pain mixed with growls of pleasure.

The young donkey, legs spread as a lanky but muscular fox slammed into him, bloody claw marks on his arms and chest, could only stare at the sun, slowly moving above beyond the drifting clouds. And grit his teeth as the obscenely big cock forced him open, wide and gaping like it should already have split him apart. He tried to block out the memory of his friend, eyes dead and dull, turning over one of the spits, tried to ignore his own throbbing arousal. Just staring into the sky, trying to shut out the pain and the humiliation, looking up as if waiting for a sign from the heavens...

As dusk slowly began to fall over the town square, the debauched bacchanal was still in full swing. Bellies full of food, sentient or not, had flattened out, leaving only a slight swelling to the firm muscle, with room for more. Cocks already grotesquely big seemed to have grown bigger, large bodies swelling with new muscle and the scent of spilled semen lingering in the air. Still, the ample supply of food and the copious amount of wine seemed to have taken some of the sting off the raiders' ravenous hunger and their lust to hurt. Some were content just lounging on their beds of rugs, blankets, cushions and torn out upholstery, letting themselves be served. Others were still buried to the hilt of their engorged cocks in whimpering bodies, their victims' bellies bulging with the shape of them, making it seem like a miracle when the unfortunate villagers were eventually let go with holes gaping, semen leaking from their bodies, but still alive to have the violation linger like a warm, sticky taint. They were drunk with their effortless victory, drunk with the lust of power and reveling in how the pleasure just kept continuing. It was not just that their cocks had grown to monstrous sizes, that their balls hung heavy with copious seed, there was none of the usual feeling of being spent, of the delightful sensation of climax eventually fading. There was only more lust, more virile seed wanting for a receptive warm body. No exhaustion, just hunger for more. It was more powerful than any wine, any drug could be and it seemed to ooze from every pore of their muscular, grotesquely endowed bodies, infectious like a disease, where even their victims felt enthralled by the primal, carnal lusting. It was the pure thrill of life, want and the shameless taking that even infected the villagers with its primitive, throbbing urge.

Lustful intoxication, a wild, heated and drunk ecstasy.

And like any alcohol, like any drug, it left those drunk on the frenzied rush inebriated to what was going on around them.

Thus, when the culling started, none of them could react before it was too late...

When it came upon the raiders, it was not something sudden, there was no cry for revenge or a tumult breaking out. No, things just happened, one after the other, as if it was the most obvious, the most self evident result of their transgressions...

Things like the young maiden, coming with a pitcher of wine to fill a cup, just staring with cold anger, as the lusty polecat, groping here drained it and started to spasm, his body shuddering, sweat matting his fur as he started to helplessly convulse on the sand.

Things like the bull, pressed down by his vulpine rapist, who grabbed a glinting needle a passing middle aged goat seemed to have dropped right next to him, before thrusting it right into the yipping raider's neck, letting the fox collapse on top of him, still convulsing and ejaculating wildly as his muscles stopped obeying him.

Things like the two young male squirrels who managed to sling the thin, silvery wire around the neck of the bandit's leader, just as he had turned his head to notice his men falling to the ground. The noose drew tight, stinging and tingling, as if a cold shiver was making all his muscles go numb. Making it hard for him to breathe. Still, he almost managed to shake the two young men off, as they desperately held on, his muscles bulging with desperate effort as the wolf realized the danger he was in.

And finally, there was the tall figure of the cougar, stepping from the shadows, throwing back his hood to fix on the wolf with a viscous snarl, putting an end to his desperate attempt to struggle free.

A tendril of purple black energy shot out from his hands, hitting the big, muscular wolf right in the face. It left him stunned and reeling for a moment. And by the time he was master of his own senses again, it was too late. Two more young males, their gaping asses still dripping his men's semen, had joined the squirrels. Their weight rested on his arms. And all the while, the garrote drew tight...

And yet, it did not kill him. His body was burning with the pain of asphyxia, but, it clung on. He could taste the meat, the once living, breathing, thinking meat he had just so recently consumed. As if something of the forcible taken life force was now clinging to him and shielding him as, ever so slowly, his own was to be sapped away. And with a cough, with a pained, rattling sound, he still drew breath...

It allowed him to stare defiantly at that damn cougar as he came strutting up to him. The bastard! But, he had to say, having the cat glare at him all furious like that. It almost made it worth all of it...

He sneered, wishing he could spit at the guy, show him what he thought of him. The damn puss might think he was hot stuff, with his shadow billowing behind him like some big, angry beast. But the wolf remembered the night they had stopped at that abandoned temple. Oh, yes, and so did the cat. Oh, he sure had thought he could impress them with his tricks. The wolf knew the type. Thought he could come up to them, act all tough and mystical, get them to grovel at his feet for a taste of that power when he had shown off to them. Well, hadn't been much of a loss when the cat had eaten that dumb boy with his suddenly enormous cock. That little shit had been lucky nothing else had killed him before. But, but really? The cat thought that would cow them into becoming his little lackeys? What a fool! Well, that was what came from playing demigod out in the badlands...

"Haaaah, demons and devils, you look almost as angry as when we ran you threw with a sword. What, got you so pissed that we did not want to play serving boys for your father of dark whatever, so you now think you can instead play all big and mighty for some dumb grasseaters to take revenge? What, because you were too dumb to watch your own back?", the wolf laughed hoarsely, his voice choked, staring back in defiance as the cougar stopped before him, his fangs bared, a strange unnatural gleam flickering in his eyes.

"You are talking some big talk for a mutt who is just having that band of grass eaters string you up like a dog who is only good for the butcher's block...", the cougar growled, showing his teeth, his eyes lingering with mockery on the grossly engorged cock, leaking precum, straining under the sensation of asphyxia. But the wolf only grinned back in defiance, feeling no shame at his arousal. He just bounced his hips lewdly, making his cock bob up and down, spewing globs of precum everywhere - which to his chagrin, the cougar did not even have to dodge.

"Heh, yeah, without that band of grasseaters, we, nnnh, we would have you lying in the dust again showin' us how prettily you can bleed...", the wolf let out a surprised unfh when the cougar lightly touched him in his straining abdomen, sending a wave of numbing pain through his body. He shook helplessly, unable to suppress a pained, undignified whimper, before he just sank to the ground, unable to move a muscle.

"If you enjoy pretty sites so much", the cougar growled, very close to him, leaning down, his hot breath washing over his face, "I shall make sure you get a good view of your men being put down like the mangy, rabid animals they are. I'll even save you for last, as a favor..."

The cougar pulled his head up by his ears, forcing him to look right into the eyes burning with purple fire, before he let go and stepped back. Then he made a casual, almost careless seeming gesture and suddenly, the wolf's body just lurched upright, held in the air as if by an invisible hand. The young men holding him seemed as startled as he was, taking a moment to react as the feline ordered them to tie the wolf to a post, using a yoke, ropes and some planks to keep him spread out, the strange silver wire wrapped around his arms and legs, keeping him numb and weak. And then of course, they stripped him of what little he had on him, tossing it on a large pile where other bandit gear had been collected.

Not everything went as smoothly though. One bandit was wrestling the silver needle from the hand of his attacker, making her whimper and cry for help as big hands closed around her throat, the coyote grinning as he started to slowly strangle his victim. But it was not for long. A large club hit him smack in the head. His grip slackened, his eyes growing blank. Smack. The club hit him again. Smack.

The young male wielding it had his eyes blurry with tears, his hands shaking as he raised it again, the bandit turning around, looking at him with glassy, unfocused eyes. His cock was still dripping from where he had slid out of his victim. Smack. Again, the club went down on his head. And again, with an even louder smack.

The bandits were hard to kill. Their bodies clung to life with an almost perverse tenacity. Even with the strange silver-sheen implements the cougar had brought with him. But the young bull persevered and finally, with another smack, the bandit toppled over, on his back, letting his obscene manhood stand up with unashamed arousal, pulsing and throbbing, his tongue lolling out with a stupid, dazed and lustful look. The maiden had reached her hand out to touch her rescuer, but the young male raised his weapon again, his body shaking, making him almost miss his mark. But the club hit home. And the sound of bone cracking told everyone that this time, with his full weight and gravity aiding him, he had done the deed. The bandit was twitching in his last, feeble motions, his cock shooting a final thick rope of warm semen, before he grew still...

He was not the last bandit though with enough of his wits left to tear himself out of the lusty, drunken fog. A brown wolf, shaking off a young stallion and bull trying to bring him down, grabbed his abandoned ax, raising it in the air as he charged at the cougar with a blood curdling cry, just as the cat had turned his back to him, busy felling another bandit with a bolt of shadowy, crackling energy.

The cougar did not turn. He seemed not to have even noticed the bandit. The canine raider felt his muzzle twisting into a feral grin as he tried to force his heavy limbs to make a bold leap, cleave the pompous bastard's head in two...

But he never even left the ground. The wild leap turned into a flail and a startled yelp as he felt something grabbing his legs, rooting them to the ground. Firm like vices, almost as if something was gluing him to the dirt. His incredulous gaze turned down. Down to where moments before there had just been the ground lit by the rays of the evening sun, his own shadow falling ahead of him like a dark vanguard. But there was something else now. Darker than any shadow should be, like an oily puddle, slick on the ground, shimmering purple. Then he realized what it was...

The cougar's shadow. Twisted, bubbling like tar, spread into a twitching pool of liquid darkness.

It had flickered over the ground, subverting all laws of nature, meeting his, engulfing it. He felt his arms being held in place as if by an invisible force, squeezing them painfully tight until his ax just fell out of his shaking fingers, landing in the dust. And then, the cougar turned around, his muzzle twisted into an amused sneer, moving his hands in a strange gesture. The bandit let out a scream as he was suddenly yanked to the ground, right into the oily shimmering puddle the shadow had turned into.

"Well, well, that might have almost worked", the feline chuckled, just as several eyes began to open in the dark mass. Eyes shimmering green, eyes unlike any animal the bandit had ever seen, just like little gelatinous pearls emerging from the oily black. And yet unmistakably staring at him.

"Now with my shadow awake, you will not so easily sneak up on me...", he continued, stepping closer to the bandit, looking down on him, stroking over his own groin. It might be barely called big now, not compared to what the bandits were showing off, nothing beyond what of a truly well endowed man might be sporting. But the bandit remembered how it had swollen when they had watched in shocked surprise as their youngest band member had been swallowed by the engorged manhood. He tried to struggle against his bonds, wanting to escape the yawning slit that would surely soon be gaping open in front of him, not face the humiliation of going rock hard and ejaculating into another man's cock...

But the cougar's member showed nothing but normal arousal, merely swelling and bulging out the feline's loincloth, as the owner let out an amused chuckle.

"Oh, don't worry, I am not going to put a filthy mutt like you into my balls. Neither into my mouth. You stink badly enough that I rather not spoil my appetite with that foul flavor..."

The bandit growled and cursed in response, still unable to move as he was held, partly by the slick, oily mass, partly by that strange invisible force, he did not understand. Not aware that it was his own shadow being subdued as easily as he was, making him move with it like it moved with him...

Another step brought the cougar close enough to reach out to him. Or close enough to place his foot on the wolf's back, pressing him down into the ground, down into the waiting dark mass.

"So instead, let me demonstrate another gift of the great father of the hungry shadows...", he chuckled, letting his gaze travel over the audience of bandits and villagers, both watching with disgust and morbid curiosity. It was the bandit leader's eyes, though, the cougar was fixing on, as he pushed the struggling wolf down right into the viscous black. The dark mass that seemed to bubble and churn like something alive, starting to crawl up over the bandit's arms, his legs, pseudopods clinging to his exposed flesh, making him thrash and yip like a panicked puppy.

"You see, waking your own shadow is a powerful ability, but, it does makes the shadow so very hungry...", the cougar drew out the words, letting them sink in, watching the panic in the face of the canine beneath him, relaxing the pressure just enough to allow him to look up, eyes begging for help as the darkness in turn was staring at him so hungrily, touched him, tasted him...

Like tongues licking over fur and skin, wrapping around his arms, crawling up between his legs, brushing against his heavy balls and his grossly engorged manhood.

"It is rather draining on me. It hungers for my energy, you see, which is why I do not get to use this blessing all the time. Though, luckily, there is always another way to sate it...", he grinned, delighting int the whimpers and pleas the wolf was making, as below him, the churning and bubbling intensified. And he suddenly realized he was slowly sinking, not into the ground, but right into the waiting, hungry darkness that was not of this world...

"The great father's emissaries, luckily, do not have the same sensibilities as we mortals do. Thus, rest assured, a stinking mutt like you, full of life force as you are, will still be a very welcome meal..."

"Noo, noo! Please! No, don't let it, don't let it eat me!", the wolf was crying out, eyes wide, filled with the panicked realization of the predator turned prey. And all the more so as he felt the alien thing so obviously not from this reality invade him. Taste him and slowly and inevitably devour him alive...

There was no mercy for him though. Not from the cougar watching with cruel amusement, ever so slowly pushing him deeper into the hungry mass with his foot on his back, nor from the villagers looking on in horror as the shadow crawled over him, pulled him in, invaded his body...

And just like when the bandits had devoured their victims, the dark being did not leave its victim any modesty or shame. His whimpers started to shift, take on a breathy cadence, breaking into moans as the onlookers could see the wolf's anus starting to gape as more and more of the oily dark mass pushed into him, until his muscular abdomen started to bulge. And then, just as he let out a whimpering, pathetic cry of lust and terror, another mass of inky sludge pressed right into his open mouth, muffling his voice to suffocating whimpers. His eyes started to bulge out, terror and pain and pleasure mixing, his cock straining against the tendrils of darkness wrapping around it, his balls already vanishing into the hungry shadow. A violent spasm started to shake him, and something sounded like it was snapping in half. The semen erupting from his twitching cock was tinged with swirls of the dark mass. Another snapping sound, a twitch, a muffled cry. And then only the bandit's torso, his raised ass and his head were still sticking out of the shadowy mass. The cougar made sure to give him a final kick right between his shoulder blades, ignoring his muffled pleas, mouth trying to force out a final cry through the tentacle of oily black that was violating him. Then the shadow closed over him.

There was only a final, gulping, wet, organic noise and then, the wolf was gone. All that remained were the splatters of his seed that had escaped the shadow. And even those, mixed with the oily black, were steadily creeping towards the otherworldly being, its eyes, one by one, starting to close as it let out an unearthly sound that had to be satisfaction, ever so gradually shrinking back to be nothing but the slightly twisting, never quite at rest silhouette of the cruelly grinning cat.

"Well, what are you waiting for?", he gave the still stunned villagers a look of condescending amusement, noticing that more than one of the young men had seemingly been unable to quite resist the effects of the lustful, carnal nature of the punishment. He tried to remember their faces. Maybe some of them he would be able to make something of. One way or the other at least...

"We still have many a rabid dog and rank beast to dispose off."

He chuckled, letting his gaze wander over the remaining bandits. What chance of escape they might have had before, the demonstration had shaken them, taken the fight out of them. Enough that none managed to do more than put up a valiant struggle, as the villagers inevitably subdued him.

There were still so many left, but even a peaceful town like this had seen its share of executions in the past. Thus, to speed up the grim work they brought out the gallows. And even the guillotine, old and disused for decades as it might have been. The strange silver sheen concoction the cougar had brought along gave the blade, dulled by disuse, a fresh shine and a preternatural sharpness. And thus, judgment commenced...

The bandit let out a groan as he weakly tried to struggle against the chains. They looked so feeble. And yet, he felt like his bulging muscles just went numb every time he attempted to break free. It was ridiculous! The large skunk had always been quite a hunk of a man, taking care to show off his muscular chest, with only some straps holding small hard leather vital guards in place. He was strong! He was a real man, a warrior! Those mere farm boys should have no chance doing this to him! He had choked one of them with his monstrously engorged dick, for all devils' sake! Had flooded him with his virile seed until he had suffocated while the bandit still was riding out his orgasm. Until finally one of his comrades had just laughed and shoved the cooling body in his own obscenely engorged cock, letting it slide all the way into his swollen ball sack to churn into seed. It had been a mad rush of power. He had felt his muscles quiver with pleasure as his cock had been throbbing and stiff. It still was. Damn. And he could not get free. He could just hobble along as they dragged him towards the platform, towards his death. A half naked young bull and a wiry squirrel were busy pulling up the heavy blade of the guillotine. It gleamed strangely, like a dark nebula on a clear night's sky. It was something that damn cougar had done. He stood there, grinning, not bothering to hide his own swollen manhood, dripping with precum at the spectacle, carelessly kicking a still twitching body, lying on the ground, quickly cooling, the eyes already dead and dull...

"Aaaaah, nooo! You won't, you little bastard grasseaters! Let, let me go!", he cried out, trying to throw his captors off by using his full weight. But it was no use, the chain just sapped the energy from his muscular body, left him trembling helplessly. He let out a drawn out groan as his erect cock flopped about, slapping against the bull's bare fur, leaving a sticky blotch of precum. The look the young male gave him, that mix of anger, revulsion and undeniable tingling arousal, almost made up for his humiliation. Not much though, really. Because now he was dragged up the platform, to the guillotine.

Fuck, he did not want to die!

But no matter how much he tried, it was all for naught. It only made sure he ended up exhausted, panting, his dark chest fur gleaming with sweat as his body was forced down. With his stiff, obscenely large cock, the only way to get him strapped in was on his back. So he could look up at the blade hanging there, ready to come for his neck. They did not even give him more than a few looks of utter contempt, as they prepared him for his execution, no words. There were too many of the bandits. And so far, barely a few cooling bodies on the pile of corpses. The skunk's arms and legs were locked in place. Damn, he could not even touch his cock. It was aching, throbbing, begging for release. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to bury his huge cock in the ass of that bull glaring at him, or that squirrel. Fuck, he wanted both. But all he could do was buck his hips, hump the air as he saw them work the crank. Click!

The blade was ready to go. No! Fuck! Stop!

He cried out in animalistic panic, lust and defiance. Something deep inside seemed to well up as he saw the bull reach for the leaver. The urge to spill as long as he still could. To spread his wild seed...

Clack!

The blade came down. Fast. Rushing. And yet, it felt like time was congealing into something warm and sticky. He saw it come for his neck. He felt the heat rushing to his groin, his body jerking helplessly with the unnatural, unending lust he and the others had so eagerly embraced.

The sharp metal hit his neck with a wet thunk. The bandit never even got to feel the full rush off his last orgasm. All he could do was open his mouth in a last, breathless cry as he felt his world suddenly tilting. The hot, sticky spray of his own cum hit him. Not only him. It was all over his two executioners. He barely got to see it long enough to have his muzzle twist into a dirty grin, before his vision tumbled away, his head rolling in the dirt. And finally, his mind started to go cold. Blank, when the little rush of euphoria he had gotten to feel from his final climax faded. And all he saw was the snarling grin of the cougar, stepping closer, before a foot smacked into his dying head, kicking him right on the pile of dead bodies, before it all went dark...

"Hey, sweet thing, c, come on, I, I did not do anything really bad", the coyote let out a whimper, looking down at the young goat, one of the three youth who had dragged him up to the gallows. The one he had been balls deep inside when the others had slung the garrote around his neck, started to strangle him until he had lost strength. It had not been enough to kill him. The noose would be though. He was facing it, his tail tugged between his legs while his other tail was standing stiff and proud. He could not help but feel horny when he looked at the cute thing in front of him. Short, black, very well groomed fur with those cute white markings and the vibrant yellow eyes. He was lithe and he had felt so good pressing against him. And he had felt even more wonderful when he had him tremble and moan as his cock pushed insistently against that sweet hole. There was something in those eyes, something beyond the sheer hatred he had seen from the other villagers, as they had dispatched of his companions. It made him feel a little bit of hope, his face twisting into a nervous grin, showing maybe a bit too much of his canine teeth.

"I, I did not kill anyone, swallow anyone, I am not a bad guy. Umh, look, times are just hard, I, I just wanted to keep myself fed, that is the only reason I joined. I, I could change...", his voice went a bit higher, almost like a puppy, pleading, ears folded back, shivering and trying to suppress the raging boner, that unashamed lust that made him wish for nothing as much as get to jump the goat, press him down and fuck him more. He wanted it so badly. But, well, the boy had liked it, right? Maybe, maybe if...

"I, I could be your dog, you know? I would be good, I would do everything you want. Look, you could treat me however you like, I, I would lie at your feet, I would sleep on the floor in front of your bed and, you can, you know...", he nervously licked his lips, feeling his breath quicken, throat going dry, unable to read the expression in the goat's face. Gods, he did not want to die...

"You can ride my cock every day, I'd even suck your cock, make you feel good? Come on, please...?"

His own cock was lewdly erect. He was leaking. And he knew with a tingle of shame that it was the idea of debasing himself, being reduced to nothing but a dog on a leash that got to him. He did not care. He just was looking with pleading eyes at the young goat. He noticed the boy was getting hard, too. That meant he had to say yes, right? He would not let him hang until, finally, his body would give out. Not make him dance in the air for insufferable long minutes as his fellows had, right before their dignity gave out first and they released thick streams of cum under gurgling moans. Only to be followed by their life finally leaving their bodies, leaving them stiff, sticky, tongue lolling with dead vacant eyes.

The black goat made a step forward, coming closer, one hand reaching out, touching him. He felt it on his muscular chest, slowly sliding down over his toned body. Felt him lean up, close enough to feel his warm breath, close enough for cocks to briefly touch as he inhaled his scent, felt the warmth of that slender body he so wanted to feel against his. His expression shifted, softening as he felt his heart pound in his chest, his breath quickening, growing ragged, looking down, meeting those eyes...

"You ate my best friend...", the voice sounded, not so much cold, but with unmistakable accusation. The eyes were moist, there seemed almost a note of sadness as fingers stroked through his fur.

"You killed no one, you did not do anything to me I would not otherwise have liked doing. With, with someone like you. But, when you monsters cooked him like meat, you were sniffing the air. You were salivating like a dog. And you... you ate him!", the voice was a whisper, sharp, trembling. And he could not meet those eyes, had to look down in shame, right at his obscenely big, drooling cock. And he could not help but remember that wonderful smell of cooking horse meat. And the wonderful aroma as his teeth dug into the roasted bicep. And all he could do make some feeble, whimpering sound, unable to suppress the lust welling inside of him as he felt the goat touch him, as if giving him an almost tender farewell caress. His nipples stiffened under the touch, his cock was throbbing hot and eager as it touched the lithe body, as the noose was slipped over his head. And his heart started to pound out the precious few remaining moments. He made a pitiful, desperate sound as the goat stepped back, to the leaver that would make the floor planks beneath him flip. As on of his friends drew the rope tight, looking at him with even less mercy than the goat had had in his eyes.

There was no help from anyone else. Not from the cougar, standing int the middle of the square, looking on with cruel amusement, not from his companions, more than half of whom were already lying dead and glassy eyed in the dirt, while the others were waiting their turn. At the gallows, the guillotine or to have their skull bashed in like they would do to randy wolves, lured by the smell of a bitch in heat, only to be brutally dispatched of as they were knotted in their paramour...

"I, I am sorry...", he half whimpered, looking at the goat, seeing the mix of blame, pity and the not quite suppressible desire in those eyes. There was a strange, almost wistful expression crossing his cute muzzle, but then, slowly, he shook his head. And then, with a clack, the leaver went down.

The coyote let out a cry that ended in a choked gasp. The fall was not long. No. No mercy for him. Not that he was sure if it would have worked. Just the unbearable pain of the rope choking him tight, his body pulsing with heat as the strange magic fought against the thick, reinforced fibers. Fought along with his desperate, pulsing life force as he tried to draw breath. It was pain, heat and, strangely, a weird ecstasy that soon set in. His cock was so stiff. Devils, it hurt. It hurt and the goat boy was just standing there. Fuck, he wanted to mate him. He wanted to fuck him, breed him, leave him leaking with his seed. And he knew he would not. Not ever. He would instead die. And all his body craved for was sex. As if something had taken away anything else, just left the ravenous hunger. Fuck, breed, consume. His body had been twisted, changed by the dark magic he had so lustily embraced. It was what would have saved him. Just that there was no way. His legs were flailing, his arms bound behind his body. His strength mercilessly seeping away like water running through his fingers. He would die...

Fuck, he was dying. And he was so hard. He felt sweat matting his fur, felt his nipples stiff, his muscles aching, hot, painful, trembling. And his cock felt so hard and throbbing and wonderful he was ready to burst. Panic, lust and the desperate need for the goat who was so close. Who just looked at him as he was dancing in the air, dripping precum, and having his obscenely big cock bob up and down, filling the air with the musky aroma of his arousal. Every muscle in his neck strained, he could not even swallow. The blood was thick in his head, his tongue. His skull was pounding. It was burning, he was, hot. Oh, yes, he was so hot with lust. He, wanted, wanted to fuck so badly, cum, just, just a last time...

Suddenly, the goat was in front of him. He felt his body jolt. Looked at him. Pleading. Just, this time, for something else. And, as the sweet thing stepped closer, there seemed to be more pity this time and, maybe, maybe also more lust...

And when he felt that hand again on his body, it was the most wonderful sensation in the burning, lusty agony. When it brushed over his abs that instinctively flexed, when one brushed over his stiff, pert nipples. When one stroked his aching, needy shaft...

His groan was barely a low rattle, but the throbbing twitch going through his body was more than obvious. And, and it did not take much. He was too far gone. Just the feel of the lovely body brushing against his, just the scent of him, just the few quick, skillful strokes...

"I am also sorry for you, despite all you have done", the low whisper reached his ears, just as his body gave in and he let his final orgasm wrack him like a merciless assault. He wanted it. He did not care that he was strangling himself all the quicker. He just twitched and jerked wildly, making sure the rope dug even deeper into his throat. All he wanted was that wonderful heat, starting in his balls, bursting like wildfire through his abused body. All he needed was the sweet euphoria as his warm seed erupted from him massive manhood. All he could focus on was the young male stroking over his body, leaning close like a lover, so sweet and warm and tender...

"I hope the gods will have mercy on you. For what you said, for, what you didn't do. For..." He stopped turning his gaze away from him, doing, something. He did not care. He just loved that hand on his body, as it was so desperately struggling against the inevitable death. There was, something. Something moving, some sound. And then he felt the rope give way. He might have believed in salvation just minutes before. But he was too far gone for that. All he could do was thankfully breath in a sweet mouthful of air carrying the scent of the goat's own arousal. He was falling, feeling wonderfully free for the briefest moment. But it was not the merciful solid ground to embrace him. The rope drew tight again. Much harder, much quicker. The last thing he felt was its sudden jerk, followed by the loud snap. And then, finally, it all went dark...

The wild dog was trembling as he was led towards the guillotine. With his muscles weak from the damn dagger they had rammed into his back, he felt like he could barely carry his own engorged manhood. His sack was still swollen from his cock snack. That bull, the last of the defenders. Damn, how had things changed like that in just a matter of hours? They had been reveling in their victory. They had had it all! Booze, food, meat, live and cooked, women, young lads, whatever they wanted.

And now he was watching them pull the body of his polecat companion from the block. His head was being rolled over to the pile. His face forever frozen in an expression of defiance, warring with lust, the white mask accentuating the expression against the darker fur. Well, the guy would be right in one way at least. He indeed was to have his sloppy seconds. The wood was slick and tacky with his seed and those of the men who had gone before him. The scent of semen was heavy in the air. And he wished part of him was not feeling a strange throb of anticipation at the thought of adding to it himself soon...

But he was so very horny. Horny enough that if he had somehow managed to get free, he might just fall upon one of the young stallions leading him to his death, instead of trying to escape with his life.

He could see the grasseaters cutting open some of the dead bodies, salvaging melted bones from stomachs still swollen from their live, squirming meals. He wondered if they would do the same to his balls. Try to get out the last remains of the bull. He was not really sure if there was anything left but his hot seed now dry and mingled with the dirt. And the thought did give him some satisfaction. Made him grin and chuckle, only to get a sharp prod in his back with one of the strange blades.

Fuck those grasseaters. Fuck that damn cat! Fuck them all!

But, all he could do was stumble forwards, looking at the wood, still coated in the polecat's final release. And he knew that it would now be him. And he would die. And all he could look forward to was the wicked pleasure of a final release. He hoped it would splatter over those damn horse boys!

But to surprise, he was not made to lie down on the cum stained wooden surface. The two young lads seemed to have clear instructions, pushing him to spread his legs. To sit down with one down on each side. Told him to slide himself forward, pushing him when he did not immediately follow. At first he just complied, not wanting to feel the sharp sting of the blades that seemed to drain the pulsing, warm, delightful flow of dark life force through his body. He was not a very bright dog after all. So, only when they pushed him forward so his manhood was placed where a convict's head should go, realization sank in. And then, it was already too late really to struggle and make them change their mind to have him dealt with more quickly. And less humiliatingly...

"Oh no, oh no, ya damn grasseaters! Don'tcha, don'tcha dare! Not, not ma, not ma balls!"

But it was pointless, he just felt the sting of that strange, silvery steel and then his muscles went limp, long enough for them to get him in place. All of his cock, all of his balls, it was simply forced through the opening. It might have made him proud that his only half erect cock was thicker than even the stoutest neck, that his balls each dwarfed any man's head, but, all he could feel was the primal terror at the threat of castration, feel his ears flatten against his skull, hear the humiliating, juvenile whine escape his throat. He could see the blade, gleaming in the red light of the setting sun. He could see his own cock glistening where precum was oozing from his tip. He had started to grow stiffer as they had moved his cock, put it in place. He could only look at them, as if begging them silently to touch him again, to at least grant him the final release all the other raiders had had. They just returned his gaze with looks of disgust, even though they could not hide their own erections. He was trembling, sweat was running down his flanks. He tried to buck his hips, groaning at the weak friction it provided, trying desperately to coax his cock on. He felt it grow stiff, he felt it push so satisfyingly against the confines of the guillotine. His heart was beating fast. Every throbbing pulse a moment ticking by. He felt every second of it with a focus he had never experienced, all of his attention on the feeling of his manhood, knowing he was about to loose it. He watched the sweat gleaming body of the two young stallions as they prepared to unman him. He tried to think of them on his cock. Had he fucked one of them? He was not sure, but, yes, to imagine that tight, warm hole, imagine that trembling, struggling body pressing against him. Oh yes, please, just, just a moment longer, he was, was getting close...

He let out a feeble cry as he saw one of them flip the lever. His eyes following every movement of that lean, muscular body. His heart was stopping as he saw the blade fall. His cock was tingling, flushed with heat. Maybe, maybe he would, he was, really close. He could feel it, he, oh, yes, please...

THWACK!

His cry changed to a howl of pain. But it was short lived. And after it, there was just the numbing cold of the steel, coated with whatever that damn cat had brought with him. And it was gone...

The delightful tingle, the throbbing, the heat, the powerful, amazing rush of warm, dark, throbbing life between his legs. All gone...

He could just see it there, still stiff, still leaking from the tip, tumbling into the dirt like discarded offal. And with it, something else had gone. There had been a delicious, hot rush of power ever since they had partaken in that ritual. But now it was no longer there. And he felt, weak...

Blood was oozing from the wound. He felt lightheaded. His voice dying down to a feeble whimper as he still watched his cock, watched it hard and proud in the dirt. Weakly, he raised an arm, as if trying to reach for it, not understanding it was too far away. He wanted it back. He wanted that last release...

The grasseaters were saying something, but he was not listening, just whining, whimpering, begging. But the only sympathy he got was when his eyes met that of the big, brown wolf, being led up to the gallows. His stomach still was slightly swollen from the live meal he had devoured. He had been the first to do so. And now, it looked like he was to be the last to die for it...

The grasseaters just had clubbed another raider, a lean, gray wolf to death, his eyes bulging, tongue lolling and cum dripping from his stiff cock. Just their leader was left, watching on with a grim, unreadable expression. While he was still alive. Bleeding out, but alive and whimpering for his cock.

"Oh, shut up already, you disgusting mutt!", one of the two stallions cried out, slapping him hard across his muzzle. It did no good stopping him, just made him cry out, straining again to reach for his cock.

"P, please... I, I wanna, wanna have, a last, just, aaah, one last...", he groaned, watching his cock twitch and feeling for a moment, a desperate delusional moment, like he felt something.

"I'll shut him up", a young but determined voice came from close by. Another grasseater. One of the bulls. And he had a heavy club in hand. The wild dog whimpered feebly, unable to keep himself from looking at the toned, muscular ass. Wishing for his cock, wishing to have it buried to the hilt in it...

"Time for you to shut up, you filthy dog!"

The blow was swift. Right on the back of his head. The pain was excruciating. But...

He felt it. He had to. Because his cock in the dirt was starting to throb. And he saw the fluid oozing from it. His face twisted into a grin. His body went slack, anticipating the next blow. There was still enough of the magic in him to not make it quick. He howled with the second smack, seeing his disembodied cock give another wonderful throb. He, felt, almost, almost like...

His skull gave a splitting crack with the last blow. And his cock blew its load. Warm semen splattered over the already soiled earth. But no one could tell if the raider still got to see it, before his brain had been beaten to mush. And no one cared as they tossed his dead body on the heap...

A last, desperate gurgle tore itself from the brown wolves throat. His face contorted, his eyes growing dull as a last spurt of cum shot from his engorged manhood. The air was heavy with the scent of sex, emanating from the dead bodies piled up, without any care or dignity given to the raiders. Just a heap of dead beasts, most of them still sporting the badges of their shameless last fit of lust. He was given just a few more moments to dangle in the air, before he, too, was taken down. And as he had been one of those who had devoured his prey whole, he, too, would have his belly sliced open to give his victim's remains a more dignified treatment than what was in store for him. The villagers already had started to pile the dead bodies on carts. Off to the shallow pit outside of the town, where condemned criminals and dead, diseased cattle would be left to the scavengers...

"I hope you enjoyed the show", the cougar's voice tickled the leader's ears from behind, as a firm hand rested on his shoulder, twisting his upper body to face the feral snarl on the cougar's face.

"Heeeh... Don't, don't know, I think I would have, would have come up with more creative ways of killing my enemies. I mean, where is the good old make them drink latrine water till they are bloated like pigs and then press down on their bellies until they burst like a tick. Or some good old quartering, I mean, you have the horses for it, might as well put the dumb grasseaters to work..."

The wolf's voice was weak, but the sneering scorn was still strong. Even if he knew it was empty bravado. Still, he wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction to break him. No, he would take death and be done with it. Show the cat he had no power over him. Teach the bastard one last lesson...

"That does sound utterly disgusting. But I guess all you can expect from a filthy mutt. I prefer this, where I still get you dirty beasts to beg and whimper to be released. Oh, or should I say to get release?"

He sneered, his gaze wandering to the wolf's half erect cock.

"Heh, can't blame some horny young lads for wanting to get off one more time before the end. Sow the wild oats a last time before you are dead meat, you know?", he grinned, but the cougar just returned the expression with one even broader, showing cruelly gleaming teeth in the red light of dusk.

"Oh, certainly not. But I guess that is beneath you then?", he chuckled, his nostrils flaring, giving the wolf a piercing stare that made the canine try to break eye contact, only to have his head yanked back.

"I will make you give all of them the best show. I will make sure you debase yourself like then filthy dog you are. And I will make sure you die without a smidgen of pride left..."

The wolf growled, knowing that in his state, it was weak bravado, knowing he was being goaded, but unable to keep his hackles from rising. He hated that smug bastard. He wanted to defy him, even if it was the last thing he ever did. And he knew the cat wanted to humiliate him just as badly.

"T, try it, pussy! I do not care what magic you use, does not mean anything if you just rely on some spell or whatever. Unless, hah, unless you think you are a big shoot for pulling the wool over the eyes of some bleating sheep!", he spat out defiantly, trying to hide the unease at the wicked grin on the cougar's face.

"Oh, I do not need to do anything, you already did all I need yourself...", the cougar laughed, giving him a smack on the back of his head that left his ears ringing, before he walked over to the mayor to talk to him. The wolf saw the old goat give the cat a slightly weary look, before he finally nodded.

The bandit leader's heart was beating faster. He could smell it. There was something afoot. But he knew just as well that there was nothing he could do. Just wait, feel his life force pulsing against the sapping effect of his bonds, feeling, with every heartbeat, how the now familiar, if still alien hunger welled inside as that damn yoke held him...

It started harmless. The bastard had seemingly made a point of getting some of the best looking grasseaters to bring him to the gallows. They took him from the yoke and put him on a leash. He was too weak to really struggle. The bastard had made sure he was hardly able to drunkenly stumble forward. And all the while, his body, his blood, his pulsing, engorged cock were screaming at him to jump at them, bury himself to the hilt in that bull's ass, take that goat by the slender shoulders, shove them into his hungry maw, one by one to feel their sweet life burning away inside of him and making him strong again. But, it was to no avail. And he knew two of them were behind him, ready to spear him like a worm if he tried anything...

The wood was slick from the leakage of his men's cocks. He almost slipped once, barely able to steady his body, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of humiliating him like that. He just slowly walked on, letting his gaze travel over the crowd, the same way he had at his men. He would not show weakness. He would not break before them. He took a breath, climbing up on the place where the wooden planks would give way, where he had seen so many of his men dance in the air. Well, there were worse ways to die. Damn grasseaters were just too soft and mushy headed.

The noose was put around his neck. He did not resist. He just kept his calm, trying to ignore how the brushing of fur against fur as the young men touched him made his already hard and still growing cock throb with want. They were both bare-chested both of them nicely built, muscles gleaming with sweat in the light of the setting sun. And he could still smell the scent of his men on them. Knew they had used them like a hunter should use his prey. Knew he desperately wanted to do them himself...

But, if the damn cat thought that would get him, he better think again.

"So, guess that is it then. If I go to hell, I am sure to let the devils of the pit know what good little morsels you all will make for them when they get you...", he grinned, leering, ready for them to drop him, ready to take his end and be done with it.

But, nothing happened. The two young men just stepped aside. For a moment, all there was was silence, the crowd looking at him, his heart beating. He knew the bastard was just trying to make him crack, he, he would have to try better. He was half way to spitting out some jeering taunt, when suddenly, the crowd parted and a slender young woman came up to him, straight to the gallows.

She was a squirrel, rather pretty, a bit flat though. She was only a few feet away from him, then she opened her mouth, looking at him, speaking with a steady voice, barely trembling.

"My brother was a good man. He worked hard for us, when father died, getting up every morning to work in the shop, making sure mother and I had all we needed, saving up for me to get married. He never drank, he never gambled, he always had a smile for us. Your men took him right in the middle of the square. And you made him take your cock, you choked him, you came as he was dying, unable to breathe. And when he was dead, you skinned him like an animal and cooked him on the spit. I rejoiced when I saw his rapists staked on a spear. It was not enough to kill them. They had to chop off their heads and strike so many times before they came off. His friends almost slipped on their vile seed as they put them down. I want to see you die just like they died, you foul monster."

She spat on him. Spat right into his face. Then she gave him a final look of pure hate and went back into the crowd.

His cock gave a fierce throb, oozing precum, dripping down, running along his length, starting to pool at his feet. And it was not only the memory her accusation conjured up. Of the delightful tightness of the squirrels throat that had made him empty his balls as he felt him die. It was something else, too. The way he had seen his men die. He had tried to suppress it. Tried to distance himself from it. But just like the debauchery of the cruel taking, killing and devouring of the grasseaters stirred his lust, so had the end of his men. And as she spoke of it, as he heard her disgust and the lust that lay concealed beneath it, he could not help it. It made him tingle, it made his balls feel hot and heavy.

And then came the next. A horse, a fine young lad who had blood on his coat, his muscles gleaming with perspiration. His scent was, very appetizing...

"I had a lover. We just had been together for half a year. He had not been from here. Been with the traveling merchants. We had seen each other many times he came to visit. Last time, he stayed for me. And you made me curse myself for asking him to do so. You had called him exotic meat. You were the first to violate him. And I saw how he cried because he was ashamed that he enjoyed it. I cannot even tell him anymore that I do not blame him. One of your men ate him alive when you had him whimpering and broken on the ground, with your seed leaking from his ass. I had wanted to get him, to take him away so you would not hurt him anymore, but you had made me serve you, held me tight. So I could just watch. Now I can only bury his bones after the bastard who did it got his head beaten in. I was happy to hear him cry out as I struck him. I kicked his damn balls, he still came as I cracked his skull. You are worse than beasts, worse than rabid dogs. I will be happy to see the crows eat your filthy carcasses and pray that you get to experience every moment of that in hell!"

The stallion, too, spat on him. His angry glare made him think he wanted to do more, but someone next to him gently took him by the arm, leading him away.

The wolf felt his heartbeat go faster. He was getting stiffer. His cock really ached. It was the memory. It was how with every word those grasseaters spoke, he could feel the tremble of lust lying beneath their disgust, their revulsion. He could sense that more than righteous satisfaction at how they talked about disposing of his men. And, yes, he could sense the strange, intoxicating pleasure in the humiliation. The humiliation he had brought to them. The humiliation he had inflicted on the cougar as they had stabbed him, kicked him, left him to bleed out in the dust. And the humiliation now inflicted on him.

He felt a surge of panic at the realization, as it hit him, just as the next villager came to condemn him, to list his sins, those of his men. He had taken the gift of dark magic, burning life force, lust, domination. He had delighted in how it had made others submit to him, laid bare their darkest, most humiliating desires. He had felt drunk with the power as he had sensed, tasted it in his prey. The yearning for it. The lust for being dominated, humiliated, used...

The dark fascination with nature's unending, unfeeling, mercilessly selfish cycle...

He had not realized, just now came to realize, that the gift was a two faced one indeed. Because now, it was him. Now it was he who was powerless. Him who would die to fuel the dark pleasure of others. And, yes, him who could not escaped that dark, demeaning, shameful arousal at being brought down...

He had tried his best to keep his calm. Even when his cock was aching with shameful pleasure. Now he wanted to beg them to finally end it, but he knew all he could let out now would be a desperate, lustful whimper. And soon, yes, out it came. Just as yet another young maid spat on him. His cock was feeling hot and itchy and desperately needy. His fur was tacky with sweat and precum. His legs were shaking. He caught the cougar's gaze, as he was standing there, in the first row, giving him a wicked, knowing look. He let out a desperate, needy howl. And then, he slipped.

They did not even need to make the planks drop beneath him. They were slick and wet with the slippery pleasure leaking from his engorged manhood. He desperately tried to find purchase, but to no avail. And then, his knees just folded. And his cock bobbed, slapped against his own face, coating him in the slippery, musky liquid as he felt the rope cut into his neck.

It was not quick. No, just like his men before him, he got to feel it. Feel his pulsing dark life force well up to protect him, keep him alive. Only to prolong the agony. It hurt. It hurt badly. And it was gloriously arousing. His scarred, muscular body was quivering, his voice a choked gurgle, his vision doubling as he saw the next one coming closer. The wolf only heard half of what he said, but he felt the emotion behind it, felt it acutely. Tingling in his stiff nipples, stiffer cock and trembling muscles. And at the end, all he could do was let out a choked groan as his bulging eyes were begging the young goat to stay, tell him more, humiliate him. He felt so close. But, he had to watch the lithe, enticing body leave, watch the motions of the tight ass. And feel his aching cock grow even more monstrously engorged, stiff and oozing. His balls were pressing almost painfully, swollen and hot against his legs. They were getting really heavy. And yet, there was no end in sight. Just the next ever more lust inducing body, the swell of anger, and humiliation, shame and lust...

Oh yes, how he lusted for more...

His cock had to be almost as thick as his muscular torso by now. His balls big enough to fit two grown men curled up inside. He felt like a husk, all that was left was lust and longing and just the tiniest spark of borrowed life, keeping him from suffocating as his own weight was dragging him down.

And then, instead of another unbearably enticing piece of grass eater ass, he saw the cougar step forward. He knew what he would say. Did not matter that the pulsing of his blood drowned out almost all sound. But there was something new to it. Something he by know had rather known already, but it was still, still incredibly arousing. In a whisper, the cougar told him the lust he had felt as they had done it to him. The shame and arousal. He knew, too. And thus, he had known the wolf would break...

"I told you. I told you you would debase yourself for all of them to see. Told you that you would die without a smidgen of pride left in you. And now, time to give them your last show..."

The cougar did not spit at him. Instead, he gave the wolf a kick to his swollen balls.

The bandit chief let out a last, choked sound of pain, one that might have been a howl, had their still been enough air in his lungs. But what he lacked in voice, he made up for with his cock. His neck felt like it was pulled apart and finally, he felt the snap of bone and tendons. His face contorted into an expression of lustful ecstasy, as he monstrous manhood finally erupted. It did not shoot far, barely an arm's length into the air, but it kept coming, oozing out in white, sticky torrents, coating his twitching body, the wood and the rope, his spasming form convulsing helplessly, until finally, after endless seeming moments of death ecstasy, he grew still. His muscular body slack, his neck twisted and broken, his eyes growing dead and dull as his drooling tongue hung from his mouth...

It was over. Finally, with the body of the leader of the raiders cut down and disposed off, all there was left was the crowd of villagers, the empty gallows and the guillotine, blade down, its last victim on the pile of dead bodies. The raiders had all been punished. Leaving only the lingering memory of the day and its cruel aftermath.

The cougar took a deep breath, feeling his own cock stiff, if still at mostly normal proportions, not bothering to hide his arousal from the villagers, given that they were not really able to hide their own. He slowly let his gaze wander over the crowd, scrutinizing them, wondering if any might perhaps make more deserving recipients of the gifts he had to offer. There were some. Some whose reactions showed promise, whose bodies looked like they might make for fine acolytes to the father...

But, that would be for another day. He was done here. And after the sheer maelstrom of lust and life and death, it would be prudent to spend some time soon in meditation to recenter himself...

"It is done. They are all dead. And may the dark abyss swallow their souls. You have done well, you rid yourself of your tormentors, so, be proud, look up. They thought you weak, and, yes, weak you may be, but so were they, if in a different way. And you can be stronger, if you only will it. And know that the father can always teach those who seek true strength..."

He let the words linger, curious to see if the seeds he was sowing might take hold, even in this unlike soil. He had his own master, back in the days, who know was with the father. He had taken acolytes before, sent them out into the world when they had grown restless. He had considered to find new ones among the raiders, cull the weak, of mind, heart and body, make them nourish those who would prove strong. Well, the raiders had been a worthless bunch, but, who knew, maybe there was something to be found among the herds of the prey...

A grin spread across his muzzle, as he turned around, still caught in his musings, only to look down at a slender but rather well built young man looking up at him, with a sad, almost apologetic expression on his face. An expression that puzzled the cougar, who was just about to ask the young man what was making him look at him like that, before he realized the sharp, cold sting in his upper abdomen. And then, with a gasp, his gaze traveled down to the blade buried in his flesh, to the trembling hands holding it. But just as he was trying to grasp for it, pulling it out of the wound, knowing what it was already doing to him, he felt another cold sting, and then another. His knees gave and he sank down, slowly, just with enough control to slow his descent. His blood pumping through his veins, inescapably spreading the contagion of the magic woven into the enchantment of the weapons. The same weapons he had given the grass eaters to deal with the bandits.

What had his old master said to him? Back when he had taken him in as a half starved boy.

You trust a bit too easily, especially for someone who should know better...

His muzzle twisted into a grin, his breath quick and ragged as he forced his head up, looking at the old goat, the mayor, standing above him with a stern, if a bit conflicted expression.

"Haaaah, s, so, I guess you, too, now turn at your benefactor?", he laughed, feeling a tremble going through him. Humiliation. Yes. And as he knew, a strange, wicked pleasure...

"I am sorry...", the goat said, his voice steady, but his posture betraying the tension inside.

"I am sorry I had to do this. But...", he paused, his gaze moving from him, to the square, to the dead bodies and the marks the raiders' assault had left.

"You, you admitted it yourself. You made them. You made them powerful. You let them have that. That power to violate, to, to devour, to defile. You have helped us, yes, I thank you for that. You did us a great service and I know that these were evil men to begin with. But, you still, you saw them. And you gave them this power. Did you not? We heard what they said. And even had they not. We saw you. You are like them. If anything, you are worse than them. You are a monster. And you made them monsters, worse than the evil men they already were."

The goat stepped back, trembling, as did the rest of the villagers. He could see it. They were afraid. Even with him sunken to the ground, pierced by three of his own blades, they were afraid of him. As well they should be...

He grinned, letting out a dry chuckle as he looked up, steadying himself. Letting his gaze wander over the crowd and taking in all of their looks, all of their expressions.

"And for that, like you killed those men, now you want to kill me, too, is that it?"

Silence followed his words, a silence that was just as much admission as any word would have.

"I see. Well, the gallows are still left. Go on. Do it, if you dare..."

To his satisfaction, it took more than a minute of nervous silence for a group of the young men to nervously approach him. Like they would a wounded beast. Silly grasseaters. Even if they pulled out the blades, he would not be able to fight them off. And when they took him by the arms, almost with a weird sort of reverence, he did not fight them. He just let himself be taken to the gallows, not stripped like the others, not that his attire left much to the imagination. He drank in their conflicted feelings. Admiration, revulsion, lust, shame, fear, excitement. Yes, some of them would have made fine acolytes. And no, they did not pull out the blades. But more than one of them touched him, touched his swelling cock, trying to pass it off as an accident. And all of them tried to pretend they were not hard and starting to leak as the led him over the wood tacky with seed, got him on the platform, slipped the noose over his head. And all the while, the old goat was watching. And he knew he was just as aroused as the young men were. As they all were. Aroused by the feeling of power as they led the predator to his death, reversing the natural order, ready to kill him so they would live...

Oh, foolish, foolish grasseaters...

He grinned, showing off his fangs, flexing his muscles, presenting his body, his unashamed, stiff arousal. It was big. Not as big as the bandit leader, but, that was because he did not will it so at this time. All he showed them was an arousal, a manhood that would fill them with envy, heavy, fertile balls gleaming with perspiration. A toned, muscular body, strengthened by consuming many a life. A warm, lustful life he would take in the most intimate and sensual way. A sacrifice to the dark father, and offering like his own death would be...

"Kill me, if you will. Show me, grass eaters, that you, too, can feel the sweet call of the dark father. For his lust in death and the ecstasy it brings. Rejoice in it. But, just remember, there always is a price to pay. Hnnnh, you, you will see, soon..."

He let out a lustful growl, his body flexing, his cock starting to leak.

The mayor cleared his throat, seeming to wrestle for words, wrestle with the feelings the shameless display stirred in him. Shameless, if in a very different fashion from the raiders' end...

"May, may the gods of light have mercy on your soul."

Then, after a heavy moment of silence, his gaze fixed on the young men on the platform.

"Pull the leaver..."

His voice was almost weak. But the rope, even after all the strain it had to bear was not.

The fall was the normal one. Not what they had given to the bandits. One to bring a swift merciful end. But the cougar would have none of it.

His powerful neck strained, his muscles held firm. And his grin grew into a lustful grimace as he felt the sweet dance of slow suffocation begin...

His body twitched. His growling purr filled the square. And his cock pulsed and throbbed with every twitch of his muscular body. It was sensual, lewd and without a trace of shame. And at the end, it was not only the cougar who came in thick, warm ropes of richly fertile seed, spilling into the dirt, spurting over his twitching body.

And it took minutes where he just dangled there, still, unmoving, tongue lolling out, his face left in a grimace of unrestrained lust, until the villagers moved.

No one spoke as they took him down. Everyone watched with a strange apprehension as the blades were torn from his body, hardly any blood gushing from the wound, that almost seemed to have healed up already. But there was no sign of life. Just a still, still warm and stiffly erect body.

"Mayor, what, what shall we do with him...?", an almost timid voice asked. One of the young men who had let the cat to his death. He and the others still were trembling, their nipples pert, their arousal very badly concealed. Around them, the villagers had resumed their grim work, starting to pull the carts full of dead bodies to the outskirts of the village, to where they would be left for the scavengers...

"Put, put him outside. I do not think it is right to bury him with our dead. Just, lay him out properly, not with the rest of them..."

The goat's voice was still stiff, forced, barely suppressing the nervous trembling inside. He, too, had been affected, just as the young men had, just like they all had been, men and women alike. He just gave the dead body a last, almost bashful gaze, before he turned to the rest of the villagers.

With the sun, the horrors of the day were about to set, to pass into the merciful dark of night. And with the light of dawn, he knew that the mourning of the dead would come. And the need to move on...

So they all just watched in the last rays of the setting sun as, cart after cart, the raiders were brought to the pit, where the bleached bones of long dead criminals would wait them, along with much the younger bones of diseased cattle. A pile of dead men, their obscene cocks still stiff and rigid in death, while the crows and other scavengers had already gathered, on the dead trees and in the bushes close by, animal eyes waiting for the last villager to leave.

The cougar was the last to be placed on a bare stretch of bleached stone, his eyes closed, arms folded over his chest, cock still stiff and glistening in the last blood red rays...

And then, night fell. And as the moon rose and the last gentle light began to vane, the feast of the creatures of the night began.

In a couple of days, all that would be left of the bandits would be bones stripped clean, empty skulls grinning in death. And a fine feast for the crows they were making.

At first, none of the scavengers seemed to dare approach the cougar's cooling body, not when the banquet was so richly set for them down in the pit. But as the crowd of scavengers grew thicker, it was a lonely, weak looking fox who first approached the body, sniffing the air, circling around, almost wary, as he slowly got closer, tongue lolling, tasting the rich scent of fresh, still warm meat on the air.

He kept just out of reach for agonizingly long seeming minutes, but finally, hunger overcame caution, as the young fox darted forward, ready to bury his teeth in the still warm meat...

He did not notice in his hunger how the long shadow the cougar's body threw started to stir.

Then it struck. Scavengers fled their banquet in a flurry of wings and swiftly moving paws, when they heard the high pitched squeak. But hungry as they were, the crowd soon returned to feast on the bandits, even as the muffled sounds of the young fox died off. And all the while the cougars body remained untouched on the bleached stone, slowly starting to stir...