FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The desert sun beat down on the muscular werewolf's dark gray and black fur, but Runic kept walking, trudging through the sand in an almost zombie-like trance; he would have been drenched in sweat, but the dry air sapped every drop of moisture from his body. The hot ground had been stinging his feet for eight miles, he panted in short, ragged breaths from the overwhelming heat, and even though he wore a protective turban, he squinted in the bright sunlight and from the tiny grains that occasionally blew in his eyes.

But he was so close--he'd seen his destination from afar, and after trekking over rolling hills and plodding across the basin-like valley of wind-rippled sand, he was in the home stretch at last, the final quarter mile. The black granite temple, with its weathered pillars and cornices adorning the high walls, jutted out from the immense dune before him, waiting for him to approach like an ornate void in the pale yellow sand. Tall statues of elephants clad in loincloths carved out of contrasting white marble--which had also been used for their impressive tusks--stood sentry by the temple's open door; their trunks were raised in a trumpeting salute while their hands reached out to the desert in front of them, out to Runic, beckoning him.

As a historian, the werewolf was naturally familiar with different mythologies of ancient cultures, the stories of long-gone civilizations and the pantheons of gods they worshiped. But he had made it his life's work to study the Myoscideans.

Runic had been completely spellbound when he'd first stumbled across a collection of Myoscidean myths and legends, he found their history and lore fascinating--the epic of Polakani, the celestial labors of Tsadik and Motau, the forbidden love between Ghazan and Swahir, the construction of the holy city of Hakaan over the course of 900 nights...every story captivated the werewolf's attention...and most of them aroused him, if he were being honest. The Myoscidean gods and heroes had a habit of finding inventive ways to fuck each other, themselves, or inanimate objects to achieve their goals, which reflected their cultural values, as Runic learned over time; the Myoscideans were a people of carnal pleasures, a society that celebrated indulgence in every form. Their gods embodied unique aspects of gratification--there was Kotiri, the god of catharsis from unbridled rage; Abiodunie, the god of enjoyment of music; and Lekyanto, the god of sadistic glee, and his twin Lektanto, the god of masochistic delight, to name just a few.

But in the course of his studies over the years, there was one god that Runic truly began to idolize on a level beyond simple academic research: Dosokindi, the god of sexual hedonism. Through him, others could experience euphoria of all kinds, he was the personification of primordial bliss from which all other forms of gratification emanated. An entire cult had been centered around Dosokindi--the Dosokindian Mysteries, whose members participated in ritualistic, days-long orgies and offered themselves up to the mighty deity to sustain him, and in exchange Dosokindi would grant his sacrificial worshipers eternal pleasure as a part of him and his celestial harem.

Whenever Runic researched Dosikindi (and he conducted research very often), he felt like he was reading the most erotic stories he'd ever found; Dosikindi was a deity with a collection of his own sordid tales so arousing to Runic that the werewolf had lost count of how many times he had pawed off to the deity in his stuffy, cluttered office in the history department at Griegart University.

As he sat back in his chair with his pants down while he stroked himself, Runic found himself fantasizing about being kidnapped and made into Dosokindi's cupbearer and lover, much like the prince Solekeos had been; as he fondled and squeezed his balls, Runic daydreamed about Dosokindi brutally raping him like he had raped the ground to create the rivers of the world; as he fingered himself and pressed on his prostate, Runic whimpered softly, begging Dosokindi to roughly breed him him among the stars the same way he had bred Lekyanto and Lektanto; as he squeezed on his knot, Runic imagined it was Dosokindi's huge hand clamped around his cock, pleasuring the werewolf while in the midst of fucking him, surrounded by his god's harem; he and as he climaxed and shot yet another load of cum over his desk, Runic imagined that he was taking part in one of the rituals of the Dosokinian Mysteries, participating in an incredible, mind-blowing orgy before he sacrificed himself to join with the divine being of pure, sexual ecstasy.

At first, Runic had maintained a healthy skepticism about whether any of the Myoscidean mythos was real. But his skepticism had faded when he saw the evidence in ancient artifacts, arcane archives, and long-lost accounts all consistently and coherently describing the phenomena the Dosokindian Mysteries encountered during each sacrifice to their patron deity: Upon their deaths, each tribute's soul was consumed by Dosokindi himself, guaranteed a place within his mighty body to be ravished beyond imagination for all time. Skolos of Likan, Achembi of Hakaan, Narambe of Zarataan--all venerated scholars of their time--diarized their observations as they participated in each ceremony, writing with a clarity that was beyond the influence of ancient hallucinogens or extremely potent wine.

As Runic pored over the manuscripts, he read them as eye-witness statements that corroborated each other down to the last detail.

Eventually, the werewolf had to conclude that the whole pantheon was more than just a figment of the Myoscideans' collective unconscious, to conclude that every god existed...which, to Runic, meant that Dosikindi still deserved worship...and tributes.

And in that moment of realization, after having worshiped from a distance for so long through the lenses of academic research and sexual fantasy, Runic was no longer a cut and dry historian, but an ardent follower of Dosokindi.

Which was why he was making the journey through the desert now; Runic had lusted after being a part of the hedonistic deity he had already spent so much of his life devoted to studying, he was ready to truly give Dosokindi his soul in a heartbeat. And so, after settling all the arrangements he needed to make, Runic had traveled to the holy city of Hakaan--now a mid-sized, bustling desert metropolis on the banks of the Talities river--and followed the route he had committed to memory from his maps of ancient Myoscidea. In nothing but his shorts and a turban, Runic had taken the eight-mile trek into the desert, over rolling dunes and past a long-dead oasis, across a sandy valley and under the clear, cloudless sky; he had taken one plodding step after another up a gigantic hill, stumbling as the sand gave way under his feet...and when he'd reached the summit, there, in the distance, he had seen the temple waiting for him, a symmetrical, black stone dwelling built into the side of the next great dune. He had slid and stumbled down the hill and trudged across the valley, approaching the gargantuan elephant statues, until finally, panting from the heat and lack of water, he gingerly stepped up to the threshold of his destination.

Even though the temple was made out of black granite, the dark stone was somehow cool beneath his feet, as if it hadn't absorbed the heat of the sun. Runic sighed in relief, his paw pads soothed by the change in temperature and the smooth, solid surface of the granite. He paused in the open doorway to the temple, taking in the sight of the elephant statues that towered over him, before the werewolf cautiously walked into the dimly-lit interior.

As he felt the comparatively cooler air of the temple on his fur, it took Runic's eyes a moment to adjust from the harsh glare of the sun to the much softer lighting inside the temple. He looked around, surprised--he had been expecting the entrance hall to be dark and gloomy, but blazing braziers hung from the high ceiling, casting their light and illuminating the long room with the glows of their fires.

Nor had Runic been expecting the muted sounds of a harp playing from somewhere further in the temple, and the last thing he'd expected to hear in the desert was the tranquil burbling of water that mixed with the harp's music...yet he heard them both, echoing off the granite walls and floor. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he'd entered a spa modeled on a deep cave, the music and flowing water combined were so calming and peaceful.

"H-hello?" Runic's voice bounced off the walls of the stone chamber, overpowering the sounds of the harp and water. He unwrapped his turban and let it hang like a shawl of his bare shoulders as he tentatively called, "I-is someone here?"

He waited, but there was no reply, save for the continued harp playing and the water's persistent gurgling. The werewolf surmised that maybe if someone were here already, they were waiting for him to come closer. Then again, it could be this place was enchanted somehow, to welcome a weary traveler and entice him inward with water and a place to lay his head. Or it could be Dosokindi himself playing the harp and he was waiting for Runic to come to him--the werewolf's heart leapt at the thought and his tail wagged. Well, if Dosokindi was further inside the temple, it wouldn't do for his latest tribute to keep him waiting, would it?

Runic began padding over the stone floor, his footsteps echoing softly. As he walked, he looked from side to side, his eyes roving over the decorated walls; on them, he saw intricate paintings that depicted Dosokindi performing many of the deeds that Runic recalled reading (and furiously masturbating to in his office...which seemed like a whole lifetime ago, now that he was here at last).

"Oh, wow," Runic breathed in awe; the artwork was better than what he would have seen in a museum--the colors were vibrant, the paint wholly intact without any signs of wear after thousands of years...it was as if an artist had just finished painting the scenes yesterday.

He saw the mighty elephant wrestling with and fucking Sombaba the tiger during the epic struggle to claim Phalanos, the dingo prince of Koushaan; there was Dosokindi, fucking Lektanto among the stars while Lekyanto rimmed the elephant; he saw worshipers gathered at Dosokindi's feet, bowing to him, humping his soles and suckling on his toes; he saw the elephant being ridden by Walashti the raccoon as he presided over the other gods during the trial of King Mautep, the jaguar who stole the nectar of eternal life from the garden of Varshta; there was Dosokindi, fucking the ground and creating the rivers of the world; Runic saw the elephant punishing Kosama the ram by forcing him to suck his cock for 400 days while being fisted by Sulwas the bull; there was Dosokindi, stroking his cock and using his trunk to fuck himself in a perverted ouroboros while he was surrounded by his harem, all of them participating in sexual acts in worship of their god...

As Runic walked by all of these scenes and more, his cock stiffened in his sheath and pushed out of it to strain against his shorts. But the truly arousing painting that made the werewolf's member throb was the final tableau at the end of the entrance hall: a scene straight out of the Dosokindian Mysteries of a ceremonial orgy. The participants were in the throes of ecstasy, vigorously fucking in a dizzying mass of bodies, before one stood above all the rest: a lion, flanked by two jackals wielding knives. The jackals had pressed their blades against the lion's throat, with blood flowing down from the apparent wound, while the lion's erect cock was spurting cum in great, voluminous arcs. Runic looked further to see a second, spectral rendering of the lion had been received into Dosokindi's stomach, wreathed in a cosmic flame and surrounded by others who had squeezed into the elephant's belly.

"Oh fuck," Runic murmured, enthralled by the scene. His cock was twitching hard by this point, and his knot was stretching his sheath to the limit, but it hadn't popped out yet.

As the werewolf made his way through the antechamber, the harp music grew subtly louder, but still played its dreamy melody, coaxing Runic onward in concert with the bubbling water. He passed through the doorway and proceeded down a dimly-lit corridor, this one lined with alternating ornamental pillars and elephant effigies, smaller duplicates of the two great statues that guarded the temple entrance; these were only a few feet taller than Runic's six-foot frame, compared to the exterior statues that must have been at least 30 feet high.

At the end of the corridor, Runic entered a smaller chamber, where he found the source of the music: a lean, black jackal, nude except for a sheer, white sarong that thinly veiled his black-furred sheath and plump testicles between his legs, a gold chain hanging around his waist, a gold necklace with a triangular pendant, and a pair of thick, gold bands around his wrists, was playing a lyre as he sat on a low stool.

A long, raised slab of sandstone lay behind the jackal, and further on, Runic saw a darkened doorway on the far side of the room. The werewolf glanced down at the floor for a moment; channels had been hewn into the stone, leading from the stone table to the wall on the right, where Runic saw lines upon lines of intricate Myoscidean glyphs carved into the otherwise smooth, polished granite. And at the head of the sandstone slab, there was the source of the gurgling water: a small fountain, with a ledge wide enough to bear an empty metal cup and a wooden bowl of red powder.

"Welcome," the jackal said simply as he plucked the final notes on his lyre before stopping. He looked up at Runic, a serene smile on his lips. "It's good to see you've found your way here."

"You...were you expecting me?" Runic rasped, his throat still dry from his trek through the desert.

"Not you exactly; there are always men who seek out the house of Dosokindi eventually," the jackal replied nonchalantly as he stood from his stool. He placed the lyre on the empty seat and turned towards the head of the sandstone slab; as he did so, Runic saw that a gold, bejeweled, curved scabbard hung from the chain around the jackal's waist, the handle of a dagger protruding from the sheath. The jackal idly strode toward the fountain as he continued, "They all come here. Some for knowledge, some for pleasure, many times for both. I've had to turn away a few in my time; Dosokindi does not accept the weary or those simply looking to shuffle off the mortal coil. He requires the passionate, those who embrace his hedonism. Scholars, historians, tributes...usually a combination of all three. Which are you?"

"A combination of all three," Runic said with a dry chuckle. He coughed to clear his throat before he asked, "And you're one of his priests?"

"His last remaining priest. Takun," the jackal said by way of introduction as he came to stand behind the fountain. He took up the metal cup from the ledge and submerged it in the water. "There were more of us when more were willing to sacrifice themselves, but now...not so many tributes, not so many priests. But the great Dosokindi grants me longevity in exchange for my service."

"Longevity?"

"Oh yes. This is my third century serving Dosokindi," Takun said conversationally.

Runic's dark eyebrows rose in surprise--the lithe jackal looked hardly older than 25.

"I maintain his temple, I sit, I play my music, I give my seed to him in prayer, I wait..." Takun trailed off as he pulled the full cup up from the fountain. He walked over to Runic as he continued, "And when men come, I help them join with Dosokindi."

"You kill them...you perform the sacrifice." Runic's cock throbbed in his shorts as he spoke.

Takun smiled gently. "No, they have chosen to perform the sacrifice themselves. I am simply the tool they use for assistance," he humbly clarified. "But yes, life, blood, seed, and soul are required. The only way a tribute leaves this chamber is within Dosokindi himself." The jackal held the cup of water out to Runic. "Drink."

The parched werewolf gratefully accepted the cup and noisily chugged the cool, refreshing water as if it were the first drink he'd had in years.

"You...do want to join with him, don't you?" Takun asked.

"I...oh, I--" Runic gasped after draining the cup. He felt momentarily overwhelmed from quenching his thirst, from finally making it to this hallowed place, from finding the perfect answer to the jackal's question. "Dosokindi is...oh...yes."

Takun smiled encouragingly and took the empty cup from Runic. "You want to sustain him?"

The werewolf nodded. "Yes."

"You want to give him your life, to nourish his divine will in exchange for the eternal pleasures he will provide?"

Runic smiled, appreciative that Takun was explicitly stating what would happen; it was meant to challenge a tribute's resolve, but Runic felt as if his devotion had never been stronger when he replied, "Yes."

Takun paused, his gaze locked with the werewolf's fiery eyes, searching...then nodded. "Then I will help you."

Runic's heart soared, and his tail wagged. "W-what do I need to do?" he stammered, excited.

"Divest yourself of your garments and lay on the table." Takun gestured at the sandstone slab.

Even in his joy, Runic deflated for a moment. "Oh...what about..." he started, puzzled.

Takun cocked an eyebrow, prompting the werewolf to continue.

"I...the Dosokindian Mysteries, I thought--"

Takun smirked knowingly. "The orgy?"

Runic's knot pulsed almost painfully within his sheath. "Yes."

"The orgies were a rite for the initiates before every sacrifice, but they were unnecessary--they were simply a way for the Mysteries to...mimic the exuberance of joining with Dosokindi," the jackal explained. "And they were quite a lot to clean up from, according to previous priests." Takun winked at Runic before he continued, "The real orgy takes place within Dosokindi himself. You will join countless legions of fellow worshipers; they will be inside of you, and you inside of them, when Dosokindi himself is not playing with you."

Runic perked up. "You mean he's not just going to consume me, but also--"

"Have his way with you as he had his way with Lekyanto and Lektanto, yes," Takun finished. "The orgies of the Mysteries were simply an indulgence. The important part was the willing sacrifice, which is what you're here for."

"Ah...alright," Runic muttered, trying not to sound too crushed that he wouldn't be participating in a vigorous fuckfest before sacrificing himself.

Takun chuckled, picking up on the werewolf's disappointment. "Not to worry, my friend. You will know pleasure before you join with Dosokindi...then pleasure will be the only thing you know for the rest of time."

Runic gulped excitedly before he asked the question that had been lingering in the back of his mind since he saw Takun's knife in its scabbard. "And...the sacrifice itself?"

"Painless and easy--you'll hardly feel my blade on your throat," the jackal said confidently. "My predecessor trained me well; it will be a peaceful transition, and quick, barely any time to struggle. And there's no need to fight...this is what you want, isn't it?"

The werewolf nodded again, knowing full well that Takun's would be the last face he saw alive, here in a remote region of the desert, far from home, far from civilization...but this, he knew with absolute certainty, was where he belonged, what he was meant to do. All those afternoons spent fantasizing in his office, pleasuring himself while entertaining visions of giving up his life to be a part of Dosokindi and his divine harem for all eternity...and he was about to make it a reality

"And afterward, you'll be entombed here, kept safe, just like all the others," Takun went on soothingly. He reached for Runic's hand, and the werewolf allowed Takun to pull him to stand by the sandstone table, where he saw two holes had been bored into the head of the slab...and the holes were above the channels that had been hewn into the floor. "If you're ready?" the jackal solemnly asked.

Runic nodded before taking a breath to steady himself, then exhaled slowly as he pulled his unwrapped turban from his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. He then unbuttoned his shorts...and tugged them over his thighs, tail, and knees, before letting them drop to the floor around his ankles. The werewolf stepped out of the discarded garment, fully nude, with his erection bobbing in front of him like a stiff rod.

"Hmm, Dosokindi will enjoy you, I think," the jackal observed as he placed the empty water cup on the fountain ledge. He stood over the head of the sandstone slab and held his hands low as he commanded, "On your back, please."

Runic complied; he sat down on the stone table, which felt warm to his fur, as if it were radiating its own soothing heat. He swung his legs up onto the slab and scooted backwards, reclining as he did so until the back of his skull met Takun's waiting palms.

"I have you...simply lie still and wait to meet the great Dosokindi," Takun murmured as he lowered his hands and Runic's head to the stone surface.

Runic sighed contentedly as his head finally rested on the sandstone, with his neck aligning with the space between the two holes in the table. He was surprised by how comfortable the slab was as he settled on it...then he realized that after centuries of willing tributes coming to this temple and laying down where he lay now, they would leave small, almost imperceptible impressions in the stone--all the men who had been here before him had slowly eroded indentations for his head, the small of his back, his rump, his legs, and his heels, contouring the sandstone into natural dips and curves that cradled him. The werewolf's cock twitched as he felt a sudden sense of connection, of belonging--he was laying in the last traces of countless sacrifices before him, cradled by anonymous ghosts as his life was about to end in service to a much higher power, a power that he would help sustain with his sacrifice. His own microscopic indentation would be all he left behind, the only clue that he had ever been here, while every other trace of him would be wiped away from the world.

The werewolf shuddered in anticipation while Takun hummed to himself and prepared the ritual. The jackal refilled his cup from the fountain and poured the water into the bowl of red powder; with his fingers, he mixed the pigment and liquid, creating a thick, red paste. When the paste was the consistency of glue, Takun began painting it onto Runic's body with his fingers, murmuring and chanting unintelligibly to the same tune he had been humming.

Initially, Runic had expected the paint to be cool from the fountain water, but it was pleasantly lukewarm on his fur. Red paint was smeared across Runic's eyes and muzzle, coating the light gray markings on his dark fur; Takun dragged more paint down the werewolf's sternum, marring the off-white branching symbol that adorned Runic's chest; his dark nipples were painted crimson, and Runic received red sigils and glyphs on his firm pectorals and rippled abdomen. Takun painted long, tapering slashes down the werewolf's thighs, which Runic surmised were to represent Dosokindi's tusks, before the jackal encircled his ankles, calves, wrists, forearms, and biceps with more red paint.

Finally, Takun reached between Runic's legs to liberally coat his sheath (which was still stretched by his knot), testicles, taint, and the outer rim of his hole with the scarlet paste; Runic squirmed in delight at the jackal's finger swirling around his ass. Takun then set the empty bowl back on the ledge of the fountain and stood by the head of the table once more, hovering over Runic as if the werewolf were about to do a bench press and the jackal were his spotter.

Takun clasped his palms together in prayer before he hummed a steady, droning note...then chanted an incantation and flung his arms apart.

Instantly, the paste on Runic's body glowed a dull red, casting an inflamed aurora of light, and Runic gasped and shivered as electricity raced through his body--it was a divine wind of sensuality that set his nerves alight, soothed him, and aroused him so much that...

"Unf!" the werewolf grunted as his fully-inflated knot at last popped past his sheath.

His cock stood proudly erect and throbbed with his heartbeat. Pre was already leaking from the pointed tip, and Runic felt like a volcano threatening to erupt. His hole puckered and twitched, desperately hungry to be filled--he wanted someone to fuck him, he wanted to hump something, to furiously stroke himself as someone else plowed him into oblivion.

But Runic forced himself to lie still as Takun leaned over him, almost close enough to kiss him. He looked into the jackal's unwavering, hazel eyes, seeing only serenity and calm in their depths.

"Great Dosokindi, please accept this humble tribute who presents himself to you," Takun murmured as his hands disappeared behind his back. He remained leaning forward over Runic's head, keeping eye contact with the werewolf lying on the slab before him. "May he nourish you and satisfy your every desire as a consort within your harem. May the fortitude of his spirit add to your greatness," Takun continued, now bringing his left hand up to rest on Runic's forehead, holding him steady.

Runic's heart thundered in his chest while Takun brought up his right hand...and lightly rested the blade of his drawn dagger against the werewolf's vulnerable neck. Runic clenched his fists and curled his toes, almost unable to withstand the full-body exultation he felt; he gulped, equally nervous and thrilled--this was it, the moment he'd been waiting for. Takun might have said that he was just a tool to assist tributes in making their sacrifices, but Runic's life was in his hands...and the jackal was about to end it.

The werewolf tilted his head further, offering up his neck even more. Runic was firm in his conviction; he would not struggle, he would not resist. He would willingly--happily--die here, so he would live on as a part of Dosokindi.

"And may he be of service to you in your station as the great father...of abject pleasure," the jackal finished just as he smoothly and quickly drew the dagger across Runic's throat.

"Ah!" Runic convulsed in euphoric bliss, but kept his head still under Takun's hand.

The sharp steel hadn't stung at all as it sliced through his carotid arteries; it had felt like a soft finger harmlessly dragging across his neck...yet warm blood spilled out from the wound and drenched his dark gray fur as it flowed into the holes in the table on either side of his throat, and dripped down to the channels in the floor below.

At the same time, Runic felt as though a dam within him had violently burst--his testicles drew up, his hole clenched, and his cock spasmed harder than it ever had before as a torrent of thick, ropey cum rocketed out of his urethra.

"Hngh! Hngh! Hngh! Hnnnnngghh!" Runic huffed and moaned, breathless as the tidal wave of his orgasm hit him; it was a good thing he was lying down already, the sheer pleasure was so profound that he would have fallen over if he had been standing.

While Runic allowed Takun to hold his head down, his hips bucked automatically and more of his hot, fresh seed spewed forth like a geyser from his stiff, pulsating member. He felt as though he had been through a marathon edging session by fucking the most exquisite hole for hours, and he was cumming at last--it was a penetrating orgasm that sapped the energy from every fiber of his being.

However, instead of succumbing to gravity and splattering all over the werewolf, Runic's cum floated above his throbbing cock, coalescing into a gooey sphere that grew with each high-volume shot of semen. The surface rippled and wobbled with every glob that joined it...and Runic only kept adding more.

The werewolf grunted and groaned, his ecstasy amplified by both the mystical paint that Takun had applied and the knowledge that he was orgasming for the last time, that it would be his final act in this life. He had never cum so intensely or excessively before; it was as if his very essence was being drawn up from his balls and through his cock--his golf ball-sized testicles were like lemons in a press, squeezing themselves of every drop of cum he had to give, and then some. Runic's cock tingled and trembled, beyond overstimulated, and his knot felt ready to pop like an over-inflated balloon, yet he still kept going, spurting rope after rope to join the small, growing moon of cum that hovered over him.

As Runic surrendered to his orgasm, he was already feeling faint, weakened by blood loss. His neck was warm and wet, his fur drenched by the outpouring of his vitality; while he still had the energy to keep bucking his hips and moaning in delight, the werewolf could do no more than that. His eyes rolled in his head, occasionally focusing on Takun--the jackal still held his left hand to the werewolf's forehead, comforting the tribute as he smiled down at him and gently said in a hushed tone, "Be at peace...you've done well for Dosokindi..."

Despite his ongoing exhilaration, Runic felt so utterly exhausted...he wanted to sleep...and never wake up, except in Dosokindi's harem.

The whole room was gradually sliding out of focus; the jackal leaning over him was becoming a dark, fuzzy outline, while the wall beyond his feet was melting into a hazy blur, though Runic could vaguely see the lower lines of glyphs carved into the granite had begun emitting a reddish gleam. He wondered for a moment what the light meant...but after a minute, he realized it didn't matter...nor did it matter that his bucking hips had grown still by now...nothing mattered anymore...except that he would be with Dosokindi soon.

Runic grew drowsier and drowsier, and his eyelids began to droop involuntarily. He smiled deliriously as his orgasm went on and on, and his cock continued spurting more cum...but his mind had fogged, had become a boat unmoored from its dock, drifting out to sea...carried along on a wave of pleasure...out into an inky night that seemed to collapse around him, and push him down into the depths of his very being...from where there was no return...

"Be at peace...you will join with Dosokindi very soon...simply let go...and pass from this world," Takun murmured to him.

The last thing Runic heard while he was alive was his own final, satisfied exhale, a sigh of true gratification for his release, and the last thing he felt was an ultimate burst of pleasure, a rapturous supernova that dissipated into the darkness that consumed him.

Takun had watched the light of the werewolf's life fade from his eyes while he had climaxed; one last spurt of cum lazily fired from his cock before the member's pulsating grew still, and the viscous, translucent white rope joined the ball sacrificial seed that floated above the still-warm body.

The jackal lay his knife--still stained with the tribute's blood--next to the werewolf's body before he took up the empty metal cup and used it to scoop the floating sphere of cum out of the air. He then walked over to the wall that had been inscribed with glyphs and began chanting as he knelt before the polished granite; as Takun chanted his invocation, more of the werewolf's blood flowed through the channels in the floor and seeped into a hidden reservoir within the wall. The glyphs higher up on the granite face gleamed a dull red at first, and then brighter, and brighter, until each hand-chiseled letter shone a brilliant, glittering crimson; they merged to form a curtain of light...and from it emerged Dosokindi.

The 12-foot tall, hefty elephant stepped through the curtain and past the small jackal kneeling on the floor, delicately plucking the metal cup from the priest's hands as he strode into the chamber. His bare, barrel-like stomach glowed with the light of a furnace, and he was adorned from head to toe with gold jewelry--his ears, eyebrows, and lips were pierced with studs, there were circlets around his powerful trunk, he wore a thick collar around his neck, and a gold chain and pendant with a white cotton headdress on his crown. His long, beautifully carved tusks bore gold caps on their ends, and there were thick bands around his biceps and bangles around his wrists and ankles, with rings aplenty on his meaty fingers and a few more on his toes; his pierced nipples were connected by a fine chain, and more gold chains around his broad waist held his thin loincloth, which did nothing to hide the silhouette of his huge, pierced, semi-flaccid penis.

Dosokindi strolled to the table, the ground shaking under his weight. He sniffed the contents of the cup with his trunks as he made his way over. "Hmm...he hasn't worshiped for long, but he was truly passionate...a werewolf for me, Takun?"

The jackal rose and walked deferentially to stand by his god's side. "Yes, my lord...is he acceptable?"

Dosokindi set the cup of cum down on the sandstone slab before he used his hands to examine the werewolf's body. He stroked Runic's head, poked around inside his mouth with his fingers, rubbed over his stomach, squeezed his still-rigid cock and somewhat deflated testicles, reached with a finger between under the werewolf's rump and slowly felt around his asshole, and then patted down along his legs and feet before rubbing his thumb on Runic's paw pads. He then rapped his knuckles on the wolf's chest, as if knocking on a soft door, and paused, listening intently for a moment. His inspection complete, he sighed, pondering for a moment...before he smiled down at his priest and nodded. "Yes...he's worthy. Well done, Takun."

Takun bowed his head, honored, while Dosokindi got to work; he used his hands to open the werewolf's muzzle...and then pushed his trunk into the body's mouth, stretching the werewolf's jaws.

"Glrk!" Runic was no longer alive to grunt or gag, but his throat still gurgled wetly around the strong, girthy trunk that invaded it as Dosokindi dug in deeper, slickly sliding the appendage further in to root around within the werewolf's body. Had Runic still been among the living, he would have struggled and convulsed as he suffocated on the muscled proboscis that writhed within him like a giant snake...but his body lay still as the grave, save for the prominent bulge of Dosokindi's squirming, searching trunk in his abdomen...before the elephant retracted at last, and in his grip, he held a ghostly, glowing apparition of Runic by the neck.

The werewolf's soul gasped in elation as Dosokindi held him high, his trunk wrapped around the spectral werewolf's throat.

"Greetings, my little brother in perversion," the elephant chuckled. He rubbed his stomach with his hands in a lustful display, showing off his titanic gut as he asked, "Would you have me take you?"

Runic's voice echoed softly as he pleaded, "Take all of me...I'm yours to do with as you please, great Dosokindi."

"As you wish," Dosokindi rumbled, appeased. He lowered his trunk, and the werewolf's soul with it, down to the glowing, ovular segment of his vast gut. As Runic's feet dangled closer to the elephant's stomach, his paws became hazy and insubstantial, like fading wisps of smoke...which then vanished into the luminous furnace boiler of the elephant's mighty belly.

The incorporeal werewolf groaned blissfully as Dosokindi lowered him further into his stomach, consuming his very soul. His ghostly legs followed his feet, and then the werewolf's raging erection--now a perpetual priapism that would never flag for the rest of time--disappeared into Dosokindi's belly along with his waist...then his hips...and his abdomen...his chest and arms...until only his head remained.

"Enjoy my domain, little tribute; my gift in exchange for being my divine soul food," Dosokindi rumbled before using his trunk to push the rest of Runic's soul into his stomach.

When the werewolf vanished completely, Dosokindi grunted and belched quietly. "Mmf...the harem will have their fun with him for a time before I use him...ah, in the meantime..."

The elephant picked up the cup of cum he had left sitting by Runic's now-empty body and gulped down the werewolf's semen in two large swallows. He licked his lips and nodded to himself, judging the taste. "A decent flavor...yes, I'll enjoy him...you have my thanks, Takun," Dosokindi said as he handed the empty cup to the waiting jackal.

"It is an honor to serve, my lord," Takun said reverentially as he accepted the cup.

"Do you wish to join me now?" Dosokindi inquired.

Takun looked down at the werewolf's body for a moment, then shook his head. "Nothing would make me happier, my lord, but I still enjoy my duties, and I have not yet found a suitable replacement. There will be others who come, and I must be here for them."

The elephant nodded sagely and placed a massive hand on the jackal's shoulder. "You've served me well, Takun. When you do join me, your diligence will be rewarded; you will receive a pleasure greater than you can conceive...but for now, accept my blessing, as you have before."

Dosokindi used his trunk to partly lift his loincloth, exposing the lower portion of his juicy, veiny, blunt-headed member--even though the elephant was beginning to chub, his meaty, club-like cock was so heavy that it still hung down between his legs and over his musky, melon-sized testicles.

As he had done for the previous 300 years, Takun held the empty cup beneath the elephant's broad, pierced cockhead...and salivated as he watched a thick stream of pale, translucent piss gush out from Dosokindi's meatus and into the vessel. It frothed and bubbled and gurgled as Dosokindi kept urinating, and the god sighed in relief as he emptied his bladder...before he eventually grunted and halted the flow, stopping himself from making the cup overflow with his water. He lowered his loincloth again while Takun held the now-warm cup of divine urine close to his chest, protecting it.

"Thank you, my lord," the jackal murmured.

Dosokindi rumbled appreciatively and fondly patted his priest on the head. "Until next time, Takun," he said as he turned and began making his way back to the curtain of light.

Takun watched his god disappear into his cosmic realm beyond the gleaming veil...and the chamber was dark again, illuminated only by the fires in the hanging braziers. The jackal was alone with the werewolf's body still laid out on the sandstone slab, the tribute's discarded clothes on the floor, and his lyre on his stool.

Takun took his time drinking the urine Dosokindi had blessed him with, the elixir from the elephant's body that would continue to grant him long life and persistent youth--the frothy piss flowed down his throat with each swallow, filling his belly and rejuvenating him. He savored every mouthful of the warm fluid, enjoying his reward for a spell before he would then need to clean his knife before he entombed the werewolf's corpse in the manner befitting a willing sacrifice: an anonymous sepulcher hidden from the rest of the world.

And then the jackal would wait for the next devotee to offer themselves up as nourishment for the great Dosokindi...