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Once, long ago in a land of swords and stories, there was a kingdom besieged by adversaries. They were surrounded on all sides, and the opposing armies fielded large swathes of ruthless pokemon, seeking to overcome them and swarm them in a great war.

One day, the king of this kingdom realized he could not win alone. Gathering his advisor--a shrewd-faced, no-nonsense woman with a librarian's air--he devised a scheme with which to beat back the invaders.

Deep within the kingdom's borders, you see, was an enchanted wood. Many pokemon lived within the wood, but it was said that the legendary wolf of the blade, Zacian, stalked under its boughs. A party was sent to entreat Zacian and enlist his aid against the coming forces.

Against all odds, Zacian appeared like a breath of wind inside the king's great hall. The king explained his situation and then entreated Zacian for his assistance. The great wolf listened carefully, and then responded (for Zacian, a legendary pokemon, was like a god, and could speak the human tongue) that he would fight for them for a price. The wolf's eyes turned up to stare piercingly at a great sword hanging over the throne. The sword was the kingdom's foremost treasure--a blade of finest make, gilded with gold and with a gleaming ruby set on the pommel. It was truly an artisan's work.

The king paled, for the sword was a symbol of the kingdom itself, and he and his shrewd advisor stepped aside for a whispered conference. Zacian sat patiently on his haunches, ignoring the eyes that studied his figure. Two young women talked to each other in the corner of the room--the king's daughter, the princess, and the mistress the king had taken after his wife had passed; the woman was not that much older than his daughter. Neither had seen anything like the great wolf before.

Finally the king and his advisor emerged. "Great wolf," said the king, "you have my word that on beating back our rivals, I shall surrender to you my most treasured possession."

Zacian nodded and was gone as fast as he had arrived.

Word soon came of a fierce assault on the enemy forces--a blue and golden shadow rending the enemies asunder with fierce sword strikes. Even the massed adversaries could not stand up against a god, and soon the armies were broken and in retreat.

Zacian returned to the castle to claim his prize, but soon learned why humans were regarded with such suspicion. The king delivered to him not the gilded blade, but a simple locket with a faded picture of a woman inside. As Zacian stared flatly at it, the king said: "The deal was for my most treasured possession. My possession. The sword is the property of the crown, not of me personally; what I value most is this picture of my long-lost wife."

Growl ripping from his muzzle, Zacian took a step towards the king, but was ringed in by spear-wielding soldiers. The captain of the guard, a steely woman who had been in on the duplicity, smirked at him, her face tight.

"I was told," said the king's advisor, a satisfied look on her face, "that gods and legends kept their word. Is that not so? The bargain was your service for the king's most treasured possession. The bargain is upheld. Or is the honor of the gods to be stained?"

The courtiers and nobles tittered around the court, the princess and the king's mistress sharing a laugh behind a feathered fan. Zacian growled once more and then, raising one lithe paw, smashed the locket and its picture into fragments. "There is much to be said of honor," he noted, his voice low and smooth, and then he was gone like a moonbeam before the dawn.

The king laughed, and the kingdom breathed, and all considered it a game well-played. But in fact, they had yet to see the legend's counterplay.

A fortnight passed and the kingdom reveled, until one night, a night with no moon, a strange wind settled on the castle. The sentries standing guard found themselves bristling with unease, despite no clear danger.

The first true sign that something was afoot was a high and piercing wail from the princess's chamber. Soldiers rushed there but found the door locked and barred from the inside. As they worked at the door, they realized that the princess's wails were coming with a certain rhythm--again, and again, and again. Furthermore, it went unspoken among them that there was a certain quality to her voice--a high, lustful whine. It sounded as if, somewhere behind the wails, she was enjoying whatever was happening.

Finally breaking down the door, the soldiers gaped at the sight. The princess was sprawled across the floor, a dazed look on her flushed face. Her dress was in tatters, torn to pieces, and standing over her was the wolf Zacian. The god sported a thick red erection, and was rutting the girl with abandon. Juices pooling around them indicated he had already come in her at least once.

As the soldiers watched, dumbfounded, Zacian finally slid out of the princess, making her squeal as his massive knot wrenched itself from her sore pussy. He turned and, with a fierce roar, sent the soldiers bowling over. When they came to, Zacian was nowhere to be found, but the princess was still red-cheeked and panting from her recent fucking.

The castle alarm was raised, but it was too late, as it was soon apparent that more activity was coming from further in the castle. The king's advisor's chamber was barred, and muffled sounds were spooling out from inside. Finally, the captain of the guard herself managed to bust down the door.

Inside, Zacian had both paws on the advisor's shoulders, pushing her down on her knees as his cock filled her mouth. She muffled angrily around it, being forced to deepthroat doggy dick, and small rivulets of wolf cum leaking from her slit showed that Zacian had busied himself in other ways with her.

The captain of the guard called out a challenge to Zacian, but scarcely got halfway through before he slid out of the advisor's mouth and pounced her. By the time more guardsmen arrived, the room was empty save for the two women, both of whom were dazed. The captain of the guard had to be helped to her feet, wincing all the while, as Zacian had plowed her so hard that she felt the ache for days after. She told no one that the wolf's seed still seeped inside of her.

The king himself, aghast at what was occurring, took down the bejeweled blade, and scoured the castle personally, hoping to extend it as a peace offering to the deity's injured pride. But though that palpable feeling of unease still permeated the castle, there was no sign of Zacian, and no echoing moans of shock or pleasure to clue any into his location.

Finally, surrendering himself to his weariness, the king decided that Zacian had taken his revenge and departed. His majesty returned to his bedchamber.

There he found his mistress as he had left her, bound to the bed and with a gag still in her mouth. Zacian was rutting her relentlessly, the young woman's voice thoroughly muffled by the king's own toys. The heavy musk permeating the room, and the sheer exhaustion writ on the young mistress's face, showed that Zacian had been enjoying himself at her expense for a long, long time.

The king could only watch, dumbfounded, as Zacian claimed his lover, fucking her with his enormous wolfen cock again and again. His mistress's eyes were fluttering in a mix of exhaustion and orgasmic delight, and the king noted with a mix of loathing and jealousy that he had never seen such a look on her when she had been the recipient of his attentions. As Zacian hilted in her, she trembled, her eyelids fluttering, as she came despite herself. Her moans of ecstasy momentarily shifted to sobbing whimpers as Zacian's knot swelled inside of her, stretching her abused cunt even further and tying them together, and only then did Zacian reach forward and rip the cords binding her to the bedpost with one gnash of his fangs, letting the young woman finally slump over in relief. She descended into that half-conscious state of one who had been thoroughly fucked, her eyes half-lidded and taking in nothing.

Still knotted inside the king's lover, Zacian crossed his paws over themselves and shot a wolfish grin at the royal. "You have excellent taste, your majesty," he said. "Her hole was supple and tight. Easily the best female I mated tonight. Even your daughter wasn't as good."

A sudden mix of emotions played out in the king's breast--shock that such a thing had happened, anger at being humiliated in such a way, and pure astonishment that he had been cuckolded by a wolf. The king beat down the mix of emotions, knowing the legendary could rip him to pieces in a moment. "The sword," he said, proffering the treasure. "Take it and leave us."

Zacian only laughed, the sound low like two boulders grinding together. "I have no need of that trinket, majesty. Why, your locket and the way you treasured it so taught me that the greatest treasure of all... is family." He bent over and licked the mistress's bare tummy, leaving a shining stripe on it. She shivered at the touch of his tongue. "Keep your sword. I shall come to claim my treasures a few months hence."

And with that, Zacian popped out of the mistress and was gone.

The castle settled into a state of unease as the days bled into weeks, but he did not return. And soon, they had more to worry about. Each of the four women rutted by Zacian--the princess, the advisor, the mistress, and the captain of the guard--soon found themselves struggling to fit into old clothes. Their breasts grew tender and their appetites grew, and all the kingdom knew that they were carrying pups.

The king's best efforts to keep the incident under wraps was a failure. Word spread across the land, dashing the princess's marriage hopes--for what prince would wed himself to a girl who had been the mother of mere pokemon? With the princess's chances at marriage erased, so too were any potential alliances. Trade, too, fell, as few kingdoms wished to incur Zacian's wrath and possibly end up putting furry offspring in the bellies of their own duchesses and queens. Soon, to keep the kingdom afloat, the king was forced to sell the bejeweled sword for a pittance.

Each woman's day came, of course, and before long the captain of the guard had delivered Zacian's young, the advisor was nursing baby pokemon, the mistress was busy birthing a litter, and the princess had squeezed out a line of royal pups. A few weeks after the births, in the depths of night, a blue-and-gold shadow descended on the castle and absconded with the puppies, and was never seen again.

The princess, known forever as the royal whore whose pussy had known wolf dick and whose womb had been occupied by furry offspring, sequestered herself away in a tower, busying herself with anything that might have let her ignore the shadow cast by those few months she had spent swollen with pups. The captain of the guard tried to resume her post, but resigned in the face of mounting ridicule. The advisor found passage on a ship, sailing far away to a land where she hoped to escape her damaged reputation.

And the king's mistress? The woman who had tasted Zacian's cock the longest, who he had deemed the best of them all? The king wished nothing to do with her, and she wandered the land, eventually making her way to a lonely wood. She never came out again, but local legends said that large numbers of canine pokemon began to roam the area a few years after, and no one could ascribe an origin to them.

And that, as they say, is that.