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Sluts of the Mountain

There’s only one way for the guardians to pass: for Kimahri to accept his role.

“Summoner may pass. Guardians may pass. Kimahri not pass!”

Biran’s voice cut through the mountain’s relatively calm atmosphere. The tempest had barely passed when the black and yellow Ronso presented himself, another wall on the path to Zanarkand. A wall, a presence that, alongside Yenke, would block anyone. After all, the Ronsos were known for their prowess and their fierce determination to protect the mountain.

“That’s absurd! Why would you stop us?”

“Kimahri is one of us! We won’t leave you behind!”

Tidus and Yuna’s voices were shrill, quick to react to Biran’s words. Their kindness was not lost, and it was something the world needed. What Yu Yevon needed in that period.

However, as the two were raising their weapons, staff and blade, Kimahri advanced.

“Hornless Kimahri! Punished Kimahri! Kimahri afraid of facing us?”

“No,” said Kimahri, taking another step and raising his hand towards those he considered his friends. An univocal sign for peace. “Kimahri will not flee.”

“Ah! Kimahri facing the rites! Hornless Kimahri will find a mate!”

“Kimahri? What’s the meaning of this?”

Again, Yuna’s soft voice. So smooth, so soothing. He raised his hand again, sighing.

“Ronso matters,” said the Ronso, his eyes towards Yuna. Then, he returned to Yenke and Biran, the two grinning Ronsos.

“Kimahri will face the rites. Kimahri accepts. But Guardians will pass and Ronsos protect them. Ronsos will help Guardians and Summoner.”

“Yes! As it is! Ronsos help Guardians and Summoner!” smiled Biran, crossing his arms over his chest, puffing up the fur on it. However, his gaze was fixated on Kimahri. And that tongue… Licked his chops.

“Guardians. Summoner,” added Yenke, his pinkish fur striking a contrast with his black horn. “You will pass.”

“But! Kimahri?”

“Kimahri will stay. Kimahri agrees?”

“Kimahri agrees,” nodded the Ronso, though he spoke to Yuna. The frail human had to be protected, but she had more Guardians now. And if it meant his actions protected her, Kimahri was fine with it.

Fine, even as he saw them continue, as he saw the worried glances over their shoulders, or the last glance over one hill.

Fine, even as he felt Yenke and Biran’s hands, gruff and hairy, go on his posterior.

“Let’s do this, hornless. You cannot leave us now. Or every Ronso will chase you,” growled Yenke, his throat stiff.

“I will not flee. It is a sacrifice I will make for them,” replied Kimahri, just as tense.

“For us, you mean.”

Kimahri frowned but nodded, handing them his spear when they asked for it… And had his throat tense when Biran broke it with his knee and threw it aside. It wouldn’t serve anymore; that was their way of announcing it. Their hands still on his posterior, they drove Kimahri further into the mountain, along the passageways known only to Ronsos, to the cave system deep within Mount Gagazet, until they were welcomed into a place that was different from the cold and harsh exterior the Mountain presented.

That cave was open to the exterior, with many sunrays streaming in through the crevices carved into the stone. But the cave itself was vast, steamy, and reeking of sulfur the further you went. Closer to the entrance, though, the scent was faint and more bearable. More than that, it was adjourned with flowers that grew in flowerbeds placed near the sunrays, and watered by the hot sources nearby.

It was one of the few places the Ronsos had never shown to anyone from the exterior. Nor Guardians, nor Summoners, nor Yu Yevon. And it was with a purpose, as further within the cavern, many tents had been erected.

Finally, Biran pushed against Kimahri’s back, making him almost trip.

Until the Ronso dropped on his hands and knees, almost praying, at Kelk Ronso’s feet.

The Elder Ronso was not only the leader but also a prominent member of Yu Yevon. Yet, it was both his retreat and where the hornless lived… Something… Something Kimahri was awfully aware of as he pushed against his arms to sit down.

“Kimahri Ronso. You have returned to us. Willingly?”

“Yes! He returned willingly to submit to the rites.”

“Hush, Biran. Is that true? You returned for the rites?”

Kimahri glared over his shoulder, towards Biran, as he still puffed up his chest. Then, the Ronso returned to Kelk, to the bearded, mustachioed, and well-dressed Ronso. And nodded.

“Kimahri returned.”

“Good. You have not lost your ways,” commented Kelk, then glared at Biran and Yenke. “Now go. I have to prepare Kimahri.”

“Kimahri already prepared! Kimahri already lost horn!”

“Yes. But I must see this. Now, go!”

With a raised hand, palm forward, Kelk managed to chase the two brutish Ronsos. Something that was rarely done. And then, he turned to Kimahri, offered him a hand to help him get back on his feet.

“Good Kimahri… Follow me.”

“Kimahri. Follows.”

Another nod. And the Ronso followed Kelk to the hut. The furthest, but it was quite comely. It had those mats imported from the south, the incense from the Guado, the plants from the northern parts of the tribe. And even some rare bones from creatures Kelk had hunted.

But Kimahri knew what it meant as he entered and saw the Ronso strut around, searching through the shelves.

And … Kimahri went for his armor, his harness, his protection. Like in a ritual, the Ronso removed piece after piece to put them on the ground. The bracers, the straps attached to the feather guards, the ankle guards, the harness… And finally, as the belt dropped, so did his loincloth. Remained then the white wraps around his genitals, a protection the Ronso had been keen on keeping. Turn after turn, he formed a roll of white and slightly damp fabric. Then bowed.

Bowed… Then prostrated himself until the broken tip of his horn touched the ground. His hands were stiff on the mat, so were his legs. His chest fur was puffed up, and his tail angrily swept the air.

“You did not come here of your own volition, Kimahri,” said the Elder.

“Kimahri… I asked Yenke and Biran to protect Yuna while I can’t. It was the other choice without bloodshed.”

“But even if you did it to protect them, you cannot go back on your words.”

“No.”

“Good.”

As Kelk rubbed his hands, he walked around Kimahri. And as an answer, Kimahri lifted his waist further, bending his knees less so to present his posterior, blue like the rest of his body, and generously shaped.

However, what the Ronso presented was not his uncut blue cock, with the pinkish tip visible. Nor it was those small testicles, round and perfectly blue. Nor even that firm and used asshole, no longer virgin.

It was something else. A pinkish slit carved in the perineum, nestled between the testicles and the anus.

It was an entrance. An entrance Kelk dared to touch, before stroking the swollen edges and pulling on those ‘shy’ labias. He pulled on them, stroked them, then inserted one finger against the pinkish entrance.

To an outsider, a Hornless Ronso was a shamed Ronso. It is the source of their pride, of their name. Having it broken would signify they are unfit to be a warrior, and so they ought to be ostracized.

But the truth… The truth was far more deviant as, in reality, that horn was a symbol of something else, something that had been broken.

The true Horn was… inside Kimahri. And without it, without that ‘horn’, a male Ronso was bound to change. That manhood would be wilting, that body would be reshaped… And finally, a vulva would form.

It was only through chance, will, or some odd circumstances that allowed Kimahri to remain a male for as long as he was.

But it wouldn’t last.

Not as he felt the fingers rush against his vulva, against that hole that had been burning days and nights after he came in contact with another male ronso. The entrance, which was so slick and moist, forced him to change the fabric covering it twice a day.

And one that was almost closing on Kelk’s fingers when the Ronso had it explored. The Ronso winced, whined nearly… And his tail flailed in the air.

And flailed harder when Kelk’s other hand went on Kimahri’s posterior. It held onto the cheeks, pushed against the plump muscles. And then, with an affirmed touch, Kelk inserted two fingers within Kimahri’s asshole.

The entrance was not lubed, and unprepared. But still, Kelk inserted two fingers inside and wiggled them so it could progress further, with purpose.

“Is your horn broken?”

“Yes.”

“When it happened.”

“Three moons before I fled.”

“Only Yenke and Biran know.”

“They… did this.”

Kimahri exhaled, his cheeks burning from daring to say this. To admit that shame that was gnawing at his guts while those fingers continued to delve within him. One hand was dedicated to his vulva, stroking the moist and velvety walls. The second, was dedicated to his ass, fighting against the tense rim.

And it was the latter that stopped. The latter had honed in on one stop whose presence made Kimahri grit his teeth.

“I will test if this is true, Kimahri. Is your horn broken?”

The mustachioed Ronso was suddenly tense as he squeezed that very stop, that very glans, that very prostate.

And… Kimahri cried.

He cried as his body instantly reacted, bucked, and finally, an almost translucent shot escaped from his soft cock, from his presenting urethra, and landed on the mat. A few more shots and there was a puddle. A musky puddle. A dense puddle. But translucent.

“Broken… Horn… Hornless Kimahri,” moaned Kimahri, his traits hardening from the shame.

“This is true… Kimahri. Hornless you are,” commented Kelk, continuing to squeeze on the glans.

But the more he squeezed, the more he forced Kimahri’s cunt to clench and suckle on his fingers, the less fluids spurted from Kimahri’s cock. None that was dense and white, none that seemed fertile. And all the while, Kimahri’s cock remained soft.

Sure, it swayed, sometimes tensed for half a second. But nothing more. And those little testicles were clenched so hard each time, Kimahri was almost crying by the sixth “shot.”

“S-Stop. Kimahri hornless. Broken horn. It is broken,” mewled the Ronso, his legs trembling weakly from the new shot…

“It is indeed. So broken. They did it well. A shame for you, Kimahri. You had potential,” said Kelk, pulling his fingers free and wiping them on Kimahri’s posterior. “Stay put. I’ll come back.”

And Kimahri listened to Kelk leaving the tent, pushing the flaps aside… Leaving the Ronso heaving with his posterior still lifted. But weak moans and groans escaped Kimahri, as he was certain it was done. He couldn’t flee this. He would be another hornless Ronso. One solely for Biran, Yenke, or anyone they desired.

“Yuna… Make Kimahri’s sacrifice good.”

-

“Wake up. It is time.”

The sound of steps crushing the mat, the scent of sulfur, the aftertaste of solutions produced and prepared by the elder. All came, washing over Kimahri the moment he was shaken and forced to leave his dreams.

Whatever it was.

His body was sore, his face was sore, his entire self was sore. But through the ache, he pushed. He lifted his head, just enough to spit out and help with the terrible taste that remained in his mouth. A mix of paste, salt, herbs growing all over Mount Gagazet. All to help with Kimahri’s growth as a hornless.

“Kimahri is awake,” growled the blue-furred Ronso, passing a hand over his face. He wasn’t burning anymore, even though he could still feel a bit weak as he rolled, squatted, and stood up. He tottered a bit, but managed to finagle his balance so he could advance.

His hut.

The place was quasi-empty, but it was to be his hut, his home. The wooden shelves were a gift from Kelk. The dreamcatchers from another hornless, and a few females, gave Kimahri the mats on which he could sleep. But it didn’t feel like his home.

“Kelk Ronso. When are rituals done?” asked Kimahri, passing through the tent flap and feeling the sting of the sun's rays on his eyes. But he advanced on the wooden rafters. Underneath, the water sources bubbled and produced steam that was good for females.

“It isn’t done, Kimahri Ronso. We are far from it.”

“But-“

“No but. Kimahri. You fought against your nature for too long. You must reconnect with it,” said Kelk, his foot tapping. And Kimahri followed to another tent. Not the Elder’s, not to anyone. But the Hornless’.

It was empty, but the remaining scent of sex was intense. Semen. Flowers. Paste. Clay a bit. Soft scents filled the air as the Ronso picked them up with his nose up, entering the wide tent, which was practically a passageway with many doors and flaps leading in different directions.

A crossroad of sorts, however… It was also full of trinkets that didn’t belong to Yu Yevon. Not that the Elder Kelk seemed to care as he strutted around, searching through the closets around, while Kimahri Ronso approached the center of the hut and faced himself.

If the mirror was at the center of that place, it was for a reason.

One that was ritualistic. But also a way for anyone to face who they were and are. A sort of reminder of how much they had changed. And at that moment, Kimahri saw himself.

Not as a warrior.

He reached for his neck, finding it still muscular and tense. But a few caresses along the shoulders found them dropping, not as square. The arms had thinned, too; the elixirs had consumed the muscles. Wielding a spear would be challenging.

“What do you see, Kimahri?” asked Kelk.

“I see… Myself, Elder,” answered Kimahri, somber at the sight, while Kelk’s more daring assault replaced his fingers.

With one hand, the Elder cupped Kimahri's left breast and lifted it, weighing it. He felt it, brushed it with his thumb, and had his digits digging within the soft flesh. Without surprise, Kimahri winced and snarled, but the pain wasn’t from the blossoming flesh or the fat accumulating inside. It came more from the bone piercing gone through the Ronso’s nipples, leaving the nub swollen and inflated. In the first days, it made Kimahri restless. Now, it was accompanied by a flare of pain whenever it was touched, but nothing else.

“More salve for this,” said the Ronso, producing a white paste he applied to the nipple. The minty touch elicited a growl and a grunt, but that pain vanished under the touch, under the massage, under the paste that was absorbed by the dark pink skin. And… Kimahri sighed, satisfied even as Kelk continued to rub that nipple.

And then the other, making sure the inflammation was gone for the two aching breasts, sagging and filling further by the day.

“Kimahri… Is tired of rituals,” moaned the Ronso.

Kelk's fingers had gone from his sore nipples to his belly. The abdominal muscles had melted, and now, there was a thin layer of fat. Just enough to add to the curves, to make Kimahri look far more comely. And though his navel would have been narrowly impossible to see, it had been pierced by a little horn that protruded from the blue fur. A snake’s horn that pushed through the fur and reared its ugly presence to the mirror.

“Do not complain. This is the way of our tribe. If you’d been more careful with Biran and Yenke, you would have had your own female or hornless. Instead, it is you,” continued Kelk. He passed a hand along Kimahri’s thighs. Those had grown thicker, hinting at a potential hourglass shape in the feature, as long as those traits continued to follow the same direction.

Kimahri’s ass, through examination, was plump, too. It formed a nice break in the Ronso’s stiff back, a curve that broke the relative harmonious stance and attracted the eyes… And the hands, more so when Kelk cupped the cheeks, giving them each a firm squeeze.

Today, they had a scent of flower, a remnant of yesterday’s balm, and a few Hornless had applied it to him before he went to sleep.

“But you are lucky. Those who fight their bodies are sickened when they return. You… You fought, but your body is now thriving,” commented Kelk, his fingers going over the thighs again, pushing against the fur on them. That fur was growing smoother, less perfect, to fight the cold. But the fat was helping, on the other hand.

“Kimahri not thrive,” growled the Ronso, his face tense. His jaw was tight, his lips close. His fists closing.

“Kimahri. You are thriving. Not every Hornless takes the ritual like you. I dare say… We are closer to the end than to the beginning,” nodded Kelk as his fingers dared along the inner thighs, upward… Upward… Upward.

Until they brushed, and Kimahri narrowly whined. But Kelk’s fingers were restless as they explored the weight. One, two, three, four… All attached around Kimahri’s scrotum, attached to a band of purple silk that was steadily squeezing the Ronso’s testicles, bullying them.

“Kimahri. Thinks it not end.”

“Being a hornless never ends,” commented Kelk, reaching for the silk to ensure it was properly wrapped around the testicles. Then, he clicked his tongue and produced another weight, like one thick coin.

As a reflex, Kimahri extended his hands and placed them on his nape, widening his stance, and winced while the Elder was roughly handling his genitals. He squeezed them, yanked on them, rolled them, until another coin was added to the silk and the pressure grew. Kimahri’s testicles ached, pinched, and pulled down. However, they were not so low-hanging anymore, somehow? It was a peculiar mix as the Ronso felt the throb as he readjusted his posture and sensed that new weight between his legs, as well as the suffering from his nuts hitting his thighs. He… Groaned.

“Kimahri… Vowed to be a guardian, too. Guardian never ends.”

“You accepted to become a hornless, Kimahri. Yuna has more guardians to look after her. Your presence might intrude on her holy work.”

Kimahri scowled, trying to think of a fitting reply. But his words worked against him, and the reasoning for his loyalty was simpler than most would say.

“Kimahri vowed to protect Yuna.”

“And you are protecting her. Isn’t it? You allowed them to continue their journey.”

“Yuna has no guide for Gagazet,” continued Kimahri, his voice harsh. And harsher with any step.

Kelk continued to explore, bending and even squatting so he could squeeze the Ronso’s hamstrings, testing the tension within those muscles to see if they were more suited to a male or a female.

“It is true. But so are the woes of many summoners who never finished the pilgrimage.”

“Yuna should not. Yuna is…”

“Is?”

“Good.”

Kimahri’s pleading fell dull for a moment as his hands dropped beside him, smacking against his thighs. But Kelk’s arched brows were there, even if for a second.

“Then. It wouldn’t be fair for a good person to go without help.”

“Then-“ started Kimahri, turning his head.

“Then you will finish the rituals. And whoever will be her guide will be chosen by me.”

Kimahri’s expression soured fast.

His brows dropped, his eyes narrowed, and his lips slipped. Almost. But he nodded.

“Kimahri… Accepts.”

“You had no other choice, young Kimahri. Now. You know what must be done.”

Kimahri’s expression tensed. He closed his eyelids and his face, erasing the anger and fear from his features to have peace instead. To let peace wash over him as he widened his stance again, slipped his hands on his nape. And began to repeat the same Mantra he was forced to follow.

“I am Kimahri Ronso… I am a Hornless.”

He said those words, slurring. Kelk had been quick to force him to repeat those, perfectly. Now, they composed his days and nights so that whenever he talked to someone, he had to present himself as such.

As such, Kelk’s fingers were going over his posterior. One hand went down, the left one. The other right under the tail.

And so… With his legs spread, his glutes spread, his asshole and cunt exposed… Kimahri sighed.

“I am Kimahri Ronso… I am a Hornless,” he said again, not even slurring. He had perfected those words, made them his own, just as he was taught.

But saw himself. Saw the pale copy of who he’d been. Saw the relinquished strength. The remnants of his manhood. The rest of a warrior wielding a spear.

But he repeated himself, even as his golden gaze drifted over his soft belly, his plump breasts, his face, the trimmed fur, the painted eyelids. Then… His own eyes.

“I am Kimahri Ronso… I am a Hornless.”

His horn was broken, but it wasn’t the only thing that was broken.

As Kelk’s fingers deftly pressed within his asshole, the Ronso winced for a second. Then, his stoic mask returned. It returned even as Kelk’s touch dug deeper into Kimahri’s clean insides, always cleaned with products while his diet was watched in accordance with the rites.

His asshole didn’t offer much resistance anymore, not to Kelk’s two fingers.

Neither did the Ronso’s vulva when three fingers were inside and teased the Ronso enough to have the entrance clenching and squirting all over the Elder’s robes.

But Kimahri continued.

“I am Kimahri Ronso… I am a Hornless,” he repeated, exhaling carefully as another sweep of pleasure hit him. He was to remain so, to endure the posture, to prove he was a worthy Hornless. Or rather, one who didn’t break under the pleasure and allowed anyone to use him.

It was… The only way for a Hornless not to be used by the entire tribe.

But it was difficult. Difficult as Kelk’s touch was deft and talented. As those fingers, aged and calloused, knew where to press to stimulate the Ronso’s vulva… Whether the clitoris, as taught, or the spot that was burning constantly. The prostate. What had been broken.

And the Elder was relentless… Pushing. Squeezing, massaging that vulva even as it clenched and tried to slow him down or halt that exploration.

“I am Kimahri Ronso… I am a Hornless,” moaned Kimahri, feeling his voice break, and so was his resistance, as it was his prostate that was stimulated and squeezed by the Elder Ronso inside and out. And soon… Without even getting erect, a whiteish translucent liquid was dripping from the Ronso’s soft cock. All over his blue furry balls, over the silk… And then down on the floor.

The liquid dribbled constantly when that spot was touched, and Kimahri couldn’t control it, even if he so desired. It was his shame and reality as a Hornless.

His ‘spear’ was broken and he wouldn’t be hard anymore. He couldn’t breed or have any children naturally, even if he tried hard. So… The sole option as to be a hornless. Was to have the fingers deftly digging within his vulva, against his asshole, and massaging him.

Massaging him until he broke… Or the Elder was satisfied with it.

But it was difficult. Arduous. Painful.

Kimahri’s entire body ached. His breasts were burning. His muscles were wilting. The weight crushed his testicles… And his orifices were stimulated to the limits of what he could endure.

But he held on.

“I am Kimahri Ronso… I am a Hornless,” repeated Kimahri, though a thin smile crept over his face as his cunt clenched and an orgasm hit him. Different than what he’d experienced before.

Sluts of the Mountain 2

Kimahri has to adapt to his new role as a hornless. Whether he like it or not

“Kimahri has changed.”

“This is Kimahri?”

“Yes, he has returned. See, the horn.”

“It is him. He looks… Taller.”

“Kimahri was scrawny. Kimahri looks good now.”

The Ronso’s ears twitched, but he remained calm. Collected. Patient.

Still, as they twitched, the sound of golden rings clicking filled the cavern, instilling silence into those who were talking about Kimahri.

Everything now betrayed the Ronso. Every action, every step, was for the gold to click and for anyone’s attention to focus on him. A displeasure he had to endure as he remained seated in a lotus position, hands on his knees.

Then… Came the steps of the Elders.

Then, the chant as a choir of singers started, followed by the drummers picking up the pace. The ceiling of the cavern would be lit up by nudging the pyreflies, creating a reaction in which the whole ceiling would come alight in red, white, then all possible hues.

Kimahri had seen it before, though he was too young to remember correctly and had to be kept out of the way.

Nevertheless, it was a joyful moment when he was younger.

There was a feast produced by all the hunters wanting to have a chance with the Hornless. Then, the dances around the bonfires here and there. Even the little ones were allowed to dance around the flames, under their parents’ supervision, before they were given some meals from the banquets and then guided to an Elder who would tell them a story before they went to bed.

That day was no different, but Kimahri was at the heart of it. He exhaled, his twitching ears indicating nobody would hear or notice him move. He opened his eyes, his face still down to see the translucent wraps all over his body, producing a contrast of faint white against the intense blue and gold now composing Kimahri’s body.

And then, he looked up. And right.

“Stay quiet. Do not act up,” ordered Kelk. And Kimahri nodded, slowly.

He was not to act up or speak during the ceremony; his duty was to watch as the warriors and hunters from the clan came to the nearest and tallest bonfire. They were right before Kimahri, and then, they danced. They sang while their bodies moved in unison, their spears ready.

They were not fighting, per se. But the rules stipulated that every participant would dance and every participant could interrupt them. Bloodshed was not allowed, and anyone whose blade bore blood would be refused.

Therefore, it was a balancing act as all the warriors were dancing, imposing their rhythm over the others. They deviated the blades, hit the others, and forced them to stumble or back away.

It was a choreography in which the best forced the others to follow.

But it was fair in the sense that the strongest couldn’t merely overpower the weak. The weak body could still be cunning enough to deflect the blade so it could graze the skin.

It was… A dangerous game.

You would lose by being too meek. You would lose by being too pushy. You would lose with too much strength. You would lose by being too guileful.

It was a display of all the talents a Ronso warrior should possess. And yet, with their spears, two were above the lot. It was not forbidden for warriors to collaborate. However, it often meant that only one male could have a chance with a Hornless.

Here, there were two, and Kimahri was aware of what it meant.

“Biran and Yenke are cheating,” he growled in a way he wanted to be in-petto.

“Shh. You are not to speak or judge. We will select the winner,” chastised Kelk.

“It is the fault of Biran and Yenke Kimahri… Became… Hornless,” grunted the Ronso, glancing aside.

“Then, they would be excellent candidates,” nudged another Elder, Loruk.

“Kimahri does not like them.”

“Kimahri must submit,” added another Elder, a female, Rhan. She was stern, as she gripped Kimahri's neck and forced him to look ahead.

“K-“ started Kimahri, about to reply. But he stopped.

Kelk glanced at him. Loruk did the same. But Kimahri remained silent, and they nodded in response.

The ceremony continued, then.

The dance was done, and almost everyone but Biran and Yenke had been forced away. The two Ronsos grinned as they approached and knelt before the Elders.

“You are the warriors. Tell us why you are deserving of the Hornless.”

That part of the ceremony was simple. A male had to boast about their talents and capacities. It was merely boasting, nothing more. However, it was different when Yenke began.

“Biran should have the Hornless,” said Yenke, grinning ear to ear. “Biran brings the most meat to the Ronso. Biran killed the strongest enemies of the Ronso. Biran is powerful and wise and smart. Biran knew Kimahri was to be a hornless. Kimahri is Biran’s Hornless!”

If anyone’s jaw wasn’t to be picked up, it was Biran and Kimahri’s. Everyone else seemed lost and confused, even Kelk, who didn’t quip anything after Yenke bowed and stepped back.

It would have been amusing, if not at Kimahri’s expense.

And once more, the ceremony was broken when Biran stood up and spoke.

“Yenke should have the Hornless. Yenke has protected the Ronso the most. Yenke has fought for days to stop the Behemoths! Yenke is enduring and true and fair! Yenke helped bring Kimahri back. Kimahri is Yenke’s Hornless!”

Again, Kimahri remained stoic. But his ears twitched as he listened to the Elder’s comments.

“Absurd.” “They can do this?” “It is unseen.” “But they brought Kimahri.”

The blue-furred Ronso’s ears dropped, and his expression hardened. The Elders had already planned to give him to one of the two. But Biran and Yenke did something almost unheard of: praising one another. It was possible to honor someone else and relinquish their rights; the rules stipulated that a Warrior could boast on behalf of another. But never each other.

And Kelk’s surprised expression was enough that most Ronsos were whispering to themselves, even as the last warrior finished speaking.

Everyone was shaken… But again, not Yenke, not Biran. And not even Kimahri, as he glared ahead, and saw the two smirking.

“Hum!” began Kelk, standing up. Slowly. His back was getting old. “Yenke! Biran! Stand up!”

With their chins up and their smugness visible, Kimahri wished he could hit them. But no. He couldn’t as the two advanced, their loincloths already tense.

“Why did you praise each other?”

“What Elder Kelk means?” asked Biran, feigning ignorance.

“Why Biran praised Yenke and why Yenke praised Biran?”

Kimahri’s eyes were focused on the two. The two warriors glanced at one another, then shrugged.

Biran spoke first: “Yenke is Biran’s friend. Biran speaks for his friend.”

“Biran is a good friend. Yenke will not go against Biran.”

“Did you plan for this?”

“Maybe,” nodded Biran. “If Yenke and Biran must speak for them, they will speak for one another.”

The remark that stole Kelk’s composure for a second. The Elder glanced over his shoulders, towards the group of elders surrounding Kimahri, and at the back. Most nodded, visibly shaken. Some shook their heads. But the number of people agreeing was more important.

“Yenke. Biran. If you must share the praise. Then you shall share the Hornless. If you fight, someone else will get the Hornless. If one dies, the other gets the Hornless. If one leaves, the other gets the Hornless.”

The two smirked but nodded, not saying anything that could get any of the Elders’ ire. However, Kimahri remained… Irate. His ears twitched, his hands clenched tighter around his knees, and-

“Kimahri follow.”

Rahn’s voice was a harsh whisper, but so followed the prod at the Ronso’s back, forcing him to stand.

An experience that was made more difficult due to recent changes in his anatomy and balance. Kimahri was feeling more top-heavy, with less strength in his core to balance it. Hence, he had to be more careful in his movement as he had one hand on the floor and pushed to stand up.

Only to see one black-furred hand offered to him.

“Kimahri can stand,” the Ronso replied, refusing the offer and standing up. To face Biran and Yenke. And to watch as they were going on either side of him. And just like when they guided him, they had their hands on his posterior.

The Elders frowned and huffed. But with that angle, with Yenke and Biran being so close together, no one from the crowd ahead could see the hands creeping under the wraps, on the blue cheeks, on the crevice between… Or the asshole they teased with their fingers.

All the while, Kelk began a speech. A long-winded speech. One that was about the duty of the Hornless, the duty to the tribe, to the Ronsos. But also how the Tribe had to thank the Hornless for their sacrifice, how long and complex the path was for a hornless. And so on.

A discourse that was interrupted by Biran’s first quip.

“Kimahri belongs to us.”

“Kimahri will be a good hornless,” nodded Yenke.

“Kimahri hates you.”

“Biran is a good mate. Kimahri should not worry.”

“Kimahri is such a pretty hornless. Biran and Yenke will be careful,” continued the Ronso with the slightly pinkish fur, his digits digging inside Kimahri’s asshole, teasing and playing with it… Inserting against it while Biran leaned back to whisper right to Kimahri’s ear.

“Biran will want to see the broken horn. Biran and Yenke broke it good. But Biran and Yenke will break new hole, too.”

The two were purring, ignoring the huffs from the disgusted Elders or curious expressions from the crowd.

They kept touching, stroking, playing… Until Kelk’s discourse stopped and he turned to the trio. Right away, the fingers were pulled from Kimahri’s lubed asshole, allowing the Hornless a moment of respite as Kelk continued and forced the three to advance. Presented them…

And then…

“May you bear the future of the Ronso, Kimahri,” said Kelk, nodding. And so did the crowd, as did Yenke and Biran, though they were smiling, and then… Kelk pushed the trio away, further towards a tunnel leading back to the Hornless’ caverns, and where Kimahri’s hut was.

“Yenke. Biran. Respect the ceremonies, or you shall be banned,” commented Kelk on pushing the three inside.

“Yes, Kelk.” “Yes, yes.”

Biran and Yenke spoke. But they did not mean it. Not when they had their hands already cupping Kimahri’s ample breasts, touching and stroking them like he was the most crucial prize that existed on Mount Gagazet. And the Ronso couldn’t fight. Not when each warrior was holding his weak arms, keeping them behind him.

“Ouh… Kelk did well with Kimahri,” said Biran, his claws touching the golden ring pierced through the nipple, pulling on the nubs. He poked at it, made the ring bounce against the taut flesh before he leaned and kissed Kimahri’s neck.

“Yenke wants to see broken spear. How small is Kimahri’s spear?”

“Silence. Have you no respect for this ceremony?”

“Kimahri still refuses to have Biran and Yenke for mating.”

“What? Why? Biran is a strong male.”

“And Yenke is enduring,” added Yenke, stroking Kimahri’s belly.

“It doesn’t matter,” cut in Kelk. “Kimahri. You are a hornless, and they have been selected. You can fight… or find a common accord.”

There. Kelk’s stern voice was enough, and sterner was his expression as he pushed against the hut’s flaps, Kimahri’s hut. The place was still as empty, though a few bottles had been added for the “ceremony”.

“Enter. And I will see if Kimahri is bred tomorrow,” growled Kelk, stepping aside once the trio were inside…

And so… Kimahri was sour.

Bound pyreflies, kept in a glass jar, produced enough light for the Ronso to observe the Hut… And scoffs.

“New home for Biran and Yenke.”

“Hornless will keep Biran and Yenke home clean,” added the purplish-furred Ronso, his fingers drawing near to Kimahri’s covered but exposed groin.

“Kimahri will not accept,” scoffed the Ronso. “Kimahri must protect.”

“Kimahri will protect no one. Kimahri weak hornless. Kimahri must be bred.”

“Kimahri will bite. Kimahri will use claws. Kimahri will protect,” said Kimahri, snarling.

“Kimahri stupid. Kimahri can’t stop Biran and Yenke.”

“Yes. But Kimahri can hurt. You want pleasure? Biran and Yenke will not have pleasure.”

“Kimahri, stupid,” added Yenke, shaking his head before he growled. “_You must submit to the rites.”

“I will not,”_ replied Kimahri, snarling and hissing at Yenke. “_I must protect Yuna. I promised it. But you forced my hand.”

“You accepted it!”_ interjected Biran, stepping back and allowing Kimahri to free himself, standing in front of them… The door was behind him.

“_You forced me. I thought it was a good choice. But I want to return.”

“You can’t. We must breed you… We must take you.”_

Kimahri’s frown was exacerbated. It was more difficult to read someone’s expressions and words when they were two. Maybe one tail swinging was an affirmation, or a remonstrance, or nothing. The result was the same, Kimahri’s golden eyes were going to one another.

And…

“Biran has one idea.”

Yenke and Kimahri’s brows lifted, but they turned to Biran as he smiled, smug.

“What is Biran’s idea?”

“Kimahri wants to protect Yuna. Yenke and Biran want Kimahri. If Biran and Yenke go with Kimahri… Kimahri will not fight.”

Kimahri snarled. It was, of course, one way to access him. But… It meant something.

“Absurd. Yuna and Guardians gone from Gagazet. Biran and Yenke can’t help.”

That time, it was Yenke’s turn to chuckle.

“Stupid Kimahri. Yuna and Guardians are lost. Yenke keeping watch. Yenke can find them.”

“Yenke can find them?” asked Kimahri, his jaw almost dropping.

And dropping further when Yenke approached, his clawed hand going on Kimahri’s right breast, cupping and stroking it while he nibbled on Kimahri’s ears.

“Yenke will find if Kimahri submits.”

Kimahri’s hands were up and ready to push Yenke away. But if he even managed to flee, exiting the Ronso’s grounds would be more difficult. And finding Yuna and the others? Impossible.

Impossible for the Ronso as his hands dropped and Biran’s touch joined, nibbling on the neck.

“Kimahri… … Kimahri accepts if Biran and Yenke promise on spear they will help.”

“Yenke promises if Kimahri becomes good Hornless.”

“Biran promises if Kimahri accepts Yenke and Biran.”

Kimahri’s breath hastened.

“Kimahri promises.”

He promised, and nodded. He looked at the two, at the devious grin plastered on their faces. Then, as their bodies, muscular and fit, approached. The straps holding their frontal armor together. Then the bracers, the leg bracers, the trinkets protecting their bodies.

Even Yenke’s typical skirt was gone, revealing the two almost naked except for their tight fundoshis that were stuck against their bodies: warm, slightly damp, definitely musky.

Kimahri could smell them, his nostrils dilating.

“Yenke and Biran want see Kimahri’s Horn,” said Biran with a chuckle, approaching closer as he pulled on the fundoshi, pulling on the left part to have his genitals dangle free. And genitals they were: low-hanging, covered with fur, damp with sweat.

Those testicles were covered with that short, darker fur, with a yellow tuft that was going from the base of the cock to the backside by following the raphe. And the cock… Well, it was uncut, with a not-so-marked cocktip. The end was not enlarged, rather fitting the elongated form of Biran as the foreskin was steadily pulled down by the blood rushing inside his erection, making his cock bob and throb and bounce.

Precum was already coating the blackish tip, all produced by the red urethra at the end.

Then, Kimahri looked and felt a hand on his posterior.

Yenke.

Much like Biran, he, too, was erect. Compared to Biran, Yenke was shorter, but he compensated with a wider cock, with a wider bulbous tip that was almost tantalizing to see. Whenever the Ronso squeezed the swollen dark corona, more precum escaped from his urethra and followed the natural inclination of that shaft: pointing upward. It was… Beautiful to see. Or exciting for Kimahri as he gulped, watching their two shafts so hard, stiff, rigid, and musky. They wanted to breed, to fuck. Their scents told him so as they moved closer, practically hip to hip, locked all three.

“Show Yenke and Biran Horn, Kimahri.”

“Where is Horn?”

The two chuckled and mocked. But it was expected. Any Ronso was truly curious about a hornless and how soft they would be. Similarly, it was their doing. So Kimahri did not hiss as he slowly pulled on the thin fabric covering his body.

He didn’t even hiss when Biran’s fingers darted against his ass, plundering it. Or when it was Yenke who licked and kissed the Ronso’s gorge.

However, he mewled a bit, pathetically, as the full view of the changes was before them… And almost pressed together.

If Biran’s cock was long, Kimahri had barely… A third of that length.

If Yenke’s cock was wide, Kimahri had barely… A twig.

If their testicles were long-hanging, Kimahri had barely… Small nuts tight to his body.

The result was like a shamble, a mockery. His testicles, blue, were now close to his body. Constantly hurting, too. The skin was taut, as it was so strained against the little organs inside.

And his cock, so small too, was resting atop that scrotum like a jewel, a crown.

One that was touched and poked as the two males were eager to nibble on his erect nipples while they flicked the pathetic cocklet… And pushed it with their cocks.

“Hornless. Hornless. Horn is broken?”

“Show us Horn, Kimahri. You can?”

“Kimahri… Is a hornless. Kimahri can’t.”

“Show Biran and Yenke, try!”

With blood rushing to his face, Kimahri heeded Yenke’s encouragement and nudge. And he has his hands descending to his genitals.

Similarly, the two others were stroking themselves, giving Kimahri some room as he grabbed his tiny shaft. So tiny, he could only hold it with two fingers, and the precum it produced made the contact more or less difficult.

With a sigh, the Ronso tried to stroke. He had to pull on the soft organ, to pinch it closer to his testicles, almost squeezing it down, while he pulled down the foreskin, unveiling a tiny bulbous tip covered with precum but nothing more.

The more he squeezed, the more difficult it was for Kimahri as he fought against his uncooperative cock. He huffed, groaned… Grunted. And the two around kept silent, except for muffled chuckles.

“Can’t get Horn?”

“Kimahri is… broken Horn. Can’t work.”

“Lost it, Kimahri? Prefers Yenke and Biran?” asked Biran, using his cock again to bully Kimahri’s. He poked at it, pushed against it, nudged it, and even pulled Kimahri’s hands free while he smeared his pungent precum against it.

“Kimahri… Thinks Biran and Yenke have good Horns,” mumbled Kimahri, huffing and glancing aside.

Only for Biran’s fingers, coated with precum, to come to his lips. To force him to suck on the sticky fluids, to swallow and taste the slightly tart liquid with that saltiness the Ronso gulped down. Biran seemed to approve when he stroked Kimahri’s chin, and then guided him into a kiss. One forceful kiss in which Biran forced his tongue down Kimahri’s throat. But it didn’t hurt or feel difficult.

it was a kiss, one Kimahri took with closed eyes while feeling Yenke’s kisses over his gorge.

“Kimahri is a good hornless. Kimahri always was one good Ronso,” chuckled Biran, stroking Kimahri’s cheeks. “Better hornless.”

Then, as Biran’s fingers left but not his lips, the Ronso’s touch drifted. It drifted along the buxom breasts, the thinned waist, the larger hips, then to the thighs to lift them. To lift one leg and have the hand go on the inside, narrowly stroking Kimahri’s private parts.

“Yenke wants back or front?” asked Biran, turning to his fellow, whose lips were leaving hickeys on their path, down to Kimahri’s pierced nipples, as no amount of fabric could halt Yenke’s desires.

“Yenke wants… Hmm.. Back. Yenke wants to feel good, swollen spot.”

“Biran gets first litter.”

“Yenke agrees!”

Kimahri’s ears dropped and flailed.

They were discussing him without considering his wishes. But that point was moot. He couldn’t defy them without going back on his promise. Something he wouldn’t dare, he wouldn’t accept as the Ronso huffed, puffed up his chest… But finally relented, allowing himself to be pressed between Yenke and Biran, to feel the two horny Ronsos sandwiching him.

“Kimahri no worry. Yenke and Biran will make Kimahri feel real horn,” chuckled Biran, going for Kimahri’s lips, rubbing their faces together until a tongue forced another kiss.

“Biran and Yenke so lucky, Kimahri good hornless.”

Kimahri huffed. But didn’t recuse their words. He didn’t even say anything, muffled as he was.

But he moaned as he was lifted. Pressed between the two Ronsos, using their bodies as support, mainly Yenke, Kimahri was lifted. His legs were passed around Biran’s waist, and he closed them around while blue-furred hands locked on the black shoulders.

Even then, a large part of the weight landed on Yenke who grunted… Or perhaps was it for his desire as his cock was right at Kimahri’s ass. Right between those cheeks that were spread by Biran’s grip.

Cheeks that revealed Kimahri’s trained and abused hole, the reddish rim amidst the blue fur.

And Kimahri… sighed. He sighed as he closed his eyes and felt Yenke’s hard cock, so hard and throbbing, poking at his back entrance.

Poking at the hole that winked back, opened slightly, and allowed the Ronso to go in. To savor the softened entrance, to feel the muscles winking and clenching back…

And Yenke purred, purred almost near Kimahri’s ears while he had his hands going on the Ronso’s chest to steady him… And fondle him.

“Kimahri hole so good. Right, Biran?”

Biran didn’t answer on the instant. With Kimahri’s legs around him, and the control over the big blue-furred feline, he had to be careful. His steps were calculated. His teeth gritted. His eyes were entirely focused on what he had before him: Kimahri’s groin. Kimahri’s tightly pulled nuts, the pathetic cocklet flopping around… And then, beneath, that moist vulva that was practically radiating with heat.

An entrance, Biran prodded with his cock, touching, prodding it. He rubbed the tip against it, just enough to make Kimahri wince.

And then, when everything was aligned, when Biran was aligned…

At that moment, Biran took it. And took Kimahri.

The blue-furred Ronso roared and cried, suddenly feeling a real cock inside him. Not one of the toys he’d been forced to take to train himself. None of the “ritual vessels” that had stretched his entrance so that it could be perfectly accommodating.

No… A real, throbbing, warm, and needy organ that pierced him through.

He roared, throwing his head back while his white mane, disheveled, flowed and almost hit Yenke’s face. But the purplish-furred Ronso wasn’t minding it… Not as he pressed his head and horn against Kimahri’s back.

“Yenke feel Biran inside. Biran good?”

“Biran… Very good.”

“Biran… Very very good,” chuckled the Ronso, repeating himself. His voice was suave, soft as he enjoyed the savory presence of that cunt closing on his cock with a firm grip. Once past the labias, the cunt was of a tightness the Ronso could not have experienced with many females. Not the promiscuous ones.

Kimahri? He was pristine. Primed. Ready.

And it was Biran’s turn to breed him. So he started. He started with that wicked grin, humping as more than half of his cock went inside, stealing another roar from Kimahri.

“Kimahri has best hole!” shouted Biran, gloating.

Gloating and feeling enraptured as he could feel, through the flesh and walls, the presence of Yenke’s erection, too.

“Kimahri has best body,” commented Yenke.

The purplish-furred Ronso was not done fondling Kimahri. Far from it, as his hands had gone from lifting those breasts to… Pinching and pulling the nipples, yanking on them with a cruelty that stole Kimahri’s whimpers and moans.

Pulls that were, incidentally, following the pace of his thrust within Kimahri.

Following each of the thrusts Yenke did as he pushed within the clenching entrance, he fought against the muscles and sphincters trying to hold him back. Only then to find… What had produced those changes in Kimahri.

What had sealed the Ronso’s fate.

“Oh… Found it… Found Kimahri purr place,” moaned Yenke, his voice almost slurring as he had his cock rubbing and pushing against something swollen.

Under his thrust, the flesh was taut and swollen, but with enough thrust, it bent and revealed a pulp-like inside. Something he rubbed against, finding it almost as wondrous a presence as a cushion. One, he squeezed, and he massaged by grinding his cocktip against it, forcing the taut flesh to bend, to welcome his presence, to embrace it.

And Kimahri roared again. No… He also purred midst his roars, midst his intense breathings, midst the drippy shots going from his softened cock…The squirts going from his wet vulva. The contractions hitting the two Males currently going at it.

The purrs from Yenke and Biran.

The two Ronsos were relishing the sensation, the instant. And for one simple reason, as much as they enjoyed Kimahri’s hole. As they enjoyed the moist velvety vulva or the clenching hole, they were… Rubbing one against another.

Something that didn’t seem to differ much from usual, except for the presence of Kimahri in between. For the cunted Ronso whose holes were getting abused, stretched, and broken in.

“Yenke and Biran… Too fast,” moaned Kimahri, his saliva dripping all over his chin and his eyes tearing up. Yet, his curled-up smile gave away the pleasure and bliss he experienced at having the two males inside him.

“Kimahri hole too good,” answered Biran, going forward to kiss Kimahri’s gorge, even licking the sweaty fur on it while Yenke continued to play with said gorge.

“Kimahri broken horn…. Broken horn fun!” continued Yenke, happily playing and pushing against Kimahri’s broken prostate, rubbing against the organ that was quick to regain its initial and swollen shape when untouched.

But it was only for half a second, only a moment of respite before the pulp-like insides were again squeezed and the Ronso’s impotent cock dripped over his testicles and Biran’s genitals, adding more fluids to the organ that was pumping in and out. It was practically lube. A lube, Biran enjoyed as he thrust onward and inside, feeling how each tremor was stealing another orgasm from Kimahri.

“Kimahri Hornless good. Kimahri good hole,” even praised Biran, suave in that instant despite the grunts escaping his throat and chest.

“Kimahri… Kimahri,” repeated the blue-furred Ronso, unable to find his words. They were slipping away. Likewise, his tongue was getting in the way, making him slur any words he desired to say. He couldn’t speak his mind, he couldn’t say how humiliated he felt at being taken that way. How humiliated it was to have them taking his virginity. How ashamed and terrible it felt to have their hands running over his body.

Yet, how much pleasure he was taking from the experience. How good it was to have them both inside him. How much his body was sore from the orgasms shaking him.

“Kimahri likes it?” asked Biran, his voice suave as one hand drifted from Kimahri’s thighs, to stroke that muzzle.

“Y-Yes,” mumbled Kimahri, saliva again dripping from his chin. His braids were coming undone; his mane was dropping over his golden eyes, his muzzle, and his nose. It practically hid the streaks across his cheeks. It almost hid the pleased expression the Ronso wore.

But it couldn’t hide that body speaking for Kimahri, whether those clenching holes, or that drippy cock, or those moans that were growing so loud, they might as well resonate through the cavern.

“Kimahri wants it?”

“Yes!”

“Kimahri wants Biran and Yenke?” asked Yenke, behind, still enjoying the plush sensations of that hole

“Yes!”

“Kimahri wants litter of Biran?”

“YES!”

At that point, Kimahri would have answered anything with a yes. Swollen and devoured by the pleasure as he was, he couldn’t utter anything but a yes. Yes to that pleasure, yes to that experience, yes to that abuse. Whether it was from the aching skin, abused by the hitting testicles, or the needy clawed fingers. Whether it was from the thrust, pushing within depths that ought to be left alone. Whether it was from the tension coursing through his body endlessly.

All that culminated as, after a few minutes after Kimahri’s plea for being bred, the two Ronsos were… Acting up.

The claws planted in the soft flesh. The thrusts became ravenous and brutal. The two males were huffing loudly while red blood sometimes streaked on Kimahri’s buttcheeks and chest.

The posterior itself, underneath the blue fur, was gaining a reddish coloration.

And the holes were practically giving up, whether from the sphincter to the vulva… Both entrances were loosened and unable to stop Biran or Yenke in their progress.

They were far too excited, far too potent, far too needy, far too enamored by Kimahri’s holes; they would never stop…

Until they reached.

Until Biran and Yenke reached the climax, the apex, the culmination of that moment, and roared like Kimahri did. Their chests puffed up, their claws dug deeper, the cocks pushed past the limits. And… Kimahri felt their hot and warm cum pouring within him, coating everything inside. His vulva, his cervix, his insides.

All was washed and hit and taken as the Ronso closed his eyes and… purred.

Purred alongside Yenke and Biran. The two Males were pressing their bodies against Kimahri, making his legs open further to the limit of hurting. But pressed between the two, Kimahri felt somewhat relieved, safe… And satisfied, hit by that afterglow and the warmth that was already spreading through his guts.

Sluts of the Mountain 3

Kimahri is back with the Guardians. But his duty has changed, and so the dynamic in the group.

“Kimahri?”

The voice was soft, calm, soothing. It was feminine, it was… familiar.

“Yuna?” answered the blue-furred Ronso, nodding.

“You didn’t have… To-“

“Kimahri promised Yuna would be safe. Kimahri Guardian. Kimahri happy,” answered the Ronso with a firm nod as they continued the ascension, carrying branches and dry leaves they were planning to use for the fire.

They could ask Lulu for a fire, but so close to Zanarkand, it was judicious to keep their strength.

“Yes. But Yenke and Biran. What they-“

“Yuna does not have to worry. Kimahri fine.”

It was… a partial lie.

Although Kimahri was no longer limping like he had in his first days, there was still an aching in his steps that made him cautious. Plus, everyone seemed to have caught on to his weakness. He had been given a new spear, one similar to his previous one, but as much as it dangled on his back, Kimahri never used it. And for a simple reason.

“Kimahri. Yuna. Found you!”

Biran’s voice was booming and joyful, practically catching Kimahri off guard. More than that, as the Ronso approached with a few birds dangling from his hips, he slipped behind Kimahri.

“Biran. You’re back from your hunt?” asked Yuna, slowing down and stopping while smiling.

“Yes. Birds for meal. And roots like Summoner asked,” nodded Biran, though his right hand slipped between Kimahri’s legs, digging upward along the thighs, right against the Ronso’s recently acquired fundoshi… And pulled on the fabric to tease the swollen and dripping vulva.

Kimahri remained stoic, though his muscles stiffened and his tail slipped between his legs.

“That’s great! Have you seen any danger from the city?”

“No. Big city calm like sea. Boring. Walked three times there. Safe for tonight. Will Summoner go to big city?”

Kimahri tried to control his breathing. His eyes wandered ahead, over the chaos of rocks that surrounded the shores. Oftentimes, when the Ronso descended on Gagazet, it was to find the place riddled with all sorts of monsters; it was better to cull than have them attack the tribe.

But he wasn’t thinking about it.

No. He thought about the clawed fingers dancing along the vulva edge and then slipping inside with a slick motion, Yuna seemed to have missed. But the sound, the sensation, echoed within Kimahri as his breathing turned into a purr. And… Biran’s body was getting closer. So warm.

“Not yet. It feels like there is something we must wait for,” said Yuna, shaking her head then putting the wood down while she pointed to the city.

“Wait for something?”

As Yuna looked away, there was one claw digging against Kimahri’s chest, right onto the bandaged breasts and underneath the harness. Right against the sensitive nipples Biran pinched, stroked, teased… All the while, his body was closer. And his erection, through the loincloth, almost perceptible as it slipped between Kimahri’s thighs.

Would he take him on the moment?

“The fayths have been silent ever since we arrived here. It is… As if they are holding their breaths,” said Yuna, nodding. “Maybe they are afraid. Or… What do you think, Kimahri?”

“Kimahri… Unsure,” slurred the Ronso, controlling his quivers.

Yuna did not pry her eyes away. And so, she did not see the pinch Biran unleashed on Kimahri’s tits. Nor did she see the Ronso’s loincloth slip and that cock prod against Kimahri’s back entrance once the fundoshi was slipped away.

There was no penetration, but the mere rubbing was intense enough to make Kimahri’s asshole wink and ache… And almost usher in the cocktip inside, inside that velvety warm hole.

“Kimahri hole best,” purred Biran by Kimahri’s ears.

“It is the first time you say you are unsure. But you’re not the only one. The more we advance, the less we are certain. Only Tidus remains as sure as on the first day. He tries so hard to smile, but I can see he is hurts. But he keeps going. Shouldn’t I try the same?”

Kimahri’s mouth opened, but he closed it to control the roar that was to escape. Escape as that cocktip was nudging his asshole and that one finger happily playing with his vulva until… Well. Biran removed it all. And left Kimahri panting, wanting, trembling.

“Too complex for Biran. Biran will leave.”

And he left.

Left Kimahri trembling, panting, sweating. And his claws planting into the logs they’ve collected.

By the moment Biran was turning, Yuna faced Kimahri and arched an eyebrow.

“Are you okay, Kimahri?”

“Yes. Kimahri recovers from rites. Yuna not worry,” mumbled the Ronos, shaking his head and trying to control himself. But his asshole continued to clench the same. And his dripping vulva released that sweet scent only a Ronso’s nose could pick.

“Yuna… Good. Yuna push further,” he then added, finally getting a smile on the young Summoner’s face.

“Thank you. Let’s bring the wood back to camp before the others ask.”

Then, with a nod, Kimahri followed Yuna as he saw the distant colorful tents that appeared if you squinted enough. Stuck on an outcropping, there was only one easy access to that chaos. One path Kimahri and Yuna followed, under the careful gaze of Yenke standing at the ready.

His spear was up, and he was still on the watch, though it should have been someone else’s turn. Was he waiting?

Nevertheless, Kimahri gulped and passed by the entrance, feeling Yenke’s lecherous gaze upon his back. He tensed a bit, though it was mainly from the tension within his body. And… He noted a side glance from Yuna.

“You never told us about the rites back home. You never talk much about your kind, Kimahri,” prodded Yuna as she glanced in the same direction as Kimahri, toward Yenke. Then back to the camp as they advanced, at a slow pace.

“Kimahri… Hornless. Kimahri had to face Ronsos. Very… Hard experience,” mumbled the Ronso, though he could feel wetter between his legs at the thought… At the thought of being bred day and night by the two before Yenke fulfilled the promise, and they were allowed to leave. But by then, Kimahri had been… Hooked on the pleasure.

“It doesn’t explain much.”

“Secret from Ronsos. Ronsos must protect secrets so Ronsos can survive. Ronsos protect Gagazet, important.”

Still, Yuna seemed to pout, but her expression softened at the sight of Rikku ahead, waving at them, before returning to one of her little trinkets. Al Bhed. Still, Kimahri had long ago made peace with who Rikku was.

And so, he nodded while they went among the tents to deposit the wood on a stack a bit further so it couldn’t be dangerous if it caught fire.

Then… As if to ease Yuna’s worrying attitude, Kimahri sighed.

“Yenke and Biran help Kimahri. Biran and Yenke will not betray Kimahri. It is good. They help. Summoner ends Sin and Ronsos are happy. Too.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Promised on spear. Very important. Spear tool for Ronsos.”

This was enough as Yuna smiled back, and then approached, patting the Ronso’s arm.

“Thank you, Kimahri, for what you did. And for saving us back there. We would have been lost and caught by Bevelle if not for you.”

It all started with a lie.

When Yenke and Biran assured the presence of the Summoner and Guardians huddled in a cavern, Kimahri went there prepared. His chest bandaged and hidden, his loincloth changed to be more fitting of his curves, his fundoshi changed to fit Biran and Yenke’s needs.

He even wielded for the occasion his spear, though it was mainly for the lie as the Ronsos approached the cavern and presented themselves as the benevolent savior.

And in a way, Kimahri should have expected this. Mount Gagazet was challenging to navigate. The monsters were abound, the danger omnipresent, unless you knew the place inside out. Hence, when they arrived, Yenke, Biran, and Kimahri were almost providential with the food. And continued to be, Biran remained one of the best hunters.

However, not everyone seemed to believe that Kimahri was truly free, nor that the collaboration was advantageous.

Yuna and Tidus were earnest and eager; they believed everything Kimahri said. Even when Yenke and Biran slipped up and sometimes called Kimahri “their hornless”.

Auron was difficult to read.

But Rikku, Wakka, and Lulu’s reactions were different. Rikku always had that smile whenever she saw the trio of Ronsos, as if she knew. Wakka frowned whenever they were leaving together. And Lulu? Well, she was the one to offer Kimahri some “perfume” to help.

It was also the black mage who intercepted Yuna.

“Yuna, you’re back. I was getting worried.”

“Why? Kimahri is there to protect me,” answered Yuna.

In the meantime, Kimahri continued to bend and form stacks of wood, listening.

“Yes, yes. As you surely believe. Rikku asked for you when you went away.”

“Rikku? But we saw her.”

“Yes. But you know how Rikku is. She is probably asking you to lend her an ear. She’s been butting heads with Wakka.”

“Again? Can they work together?”

“They work together for you. But they are like cats and dogs. Go on, before she plans to tinker with Wakka’s blitzball.”

“Oh no, she wouldn’t!”

With that, the young Summoner grabbed her robe’s hem and started to strut towards where Rikku had been. She huffed, puffed, and looked almost adorable if it wasn’t for Yuna to deliver quite a hearing to Rikku.

She had messed with Wakka’s blitzball too many times for it to be a mere joke. And Kimahri returned to the wood.

“Aren’t you worried?” asked Lulu.

Her voice was calm, collected. And as expected, when Kimahri’s golden eyes were on Lulu, she saw her snarky smile and her index finger pressed against her lips.

“Kimahri can’t tell.”

“Can’t or won’t? One day, she will have to know.”

“Not…”

“Not if you can.”

Kimahri nodded, somber.

“She isn’t stupid, Kimahri. She already knows something is between you and your two friends. She won’t tell a soul and keep believing it because it’s for the best, but…”

“But?”

“Try not to do it before her. Or ruin the image she has of you,” said Lulu, turning with her robe flowing on her way.

“Already done, Lulu.”

Kimahri clenched his fist but shook his head, returning to the wood before it was time for the meal. Typically, cooking was a participatory effort. Lulu would light the fire with a mere spark, while Tidus and Wakka would handle the preparation. Auron was to cook the meat, and Rikku and Luna were to prepare the dishes.

Kimahri? He was to watch. At least, that was what he usually did when he stood up, spear ready.

Only to froze when a hand brushed his posterior in the dark, and a voice.

“Where are you going, brudda?”

Wakka’s voice.

“Praying,” said Biran, his tail swaying and his smile obvious. He wasn’t hiding his smugness while they were at the camp’s edge, Wakka far from the others.

“Praying? Ya?” asked Wakka, crossing his arms and glancing at Kimahri.

“Kimahri…”

“Kimahri helps prayer with Yenke and Biran, noted Biran, still digging his fingers into Kimahri’s posterior. But the angle he had allowed him to remain somewhat discreet.

“Kimahri?”

“Yes, Wakka. Kimahri helps Yenke and Biran with prayers. Wakka not worry,” said Kimahri, thought he would have bitten his lips and cried as that finger was again inside his butthole. And Kimahri tensed.

“Well… If you say so, Brudda. But the meal will be ready soon.”

“Kimahri will not need meal tonight.”

“Ya?”

“Kimahri will fast for prayer. Ronso rules for Hornless.”

Kimahri’s cheeks burned at what Biran was saying. But he nodded.

“Indeed. Kimahri will fast.”

“Something is-”

“Wakka?” again, Lulu. And this time, she was gripping the Blitzballer’s arm.

“Lu? What’s this?”

“You’re shouting so loud, everyone will come. Let Kimahri and his friends pray.”

“But. You can see something is-”

“It is not important. You can see how they are… Feeling for each other, right?”

Lulu’s voice was almost suave, her caresses obvious in an attempt to dampen Wakka’s flaring anger. And he relented.

“No. You’re right.”

Kimahri’s ears dropped again, unsure if he was glad Lulu helped stop the soon-to-be altercation. But was afraid it had been too easy to convince Wakka. He believed it wholly?

A consideration again erased when the hand on the posterior danced closer… And closer… And closer. The fingers pulled on the fundoshi’s fabric, like strumming on a cord. But that cord rubbed with Kimahri’s body, made him wince and tremble… And… Sigh.

“Thank you, Lulu. Kimahri happy you understand.”

Then, as if on a mischievous imp’s face, a smile appeared on Lulu, and she pulled on Wakka’s arms. Wakka, who, in that instant, was smitten again. His aggression was gone, and maybe that was from his arm nestled between Lulu’s bosoms.

He seemed almost gone and smiling. A different attitude from the stoic Kimahri, though the Ronso was experiencing more than a mere touch from Lulu’s breasts.

And it was despite the touch Kimahri was to advance, sighing. And grumbling. And listening to Biran’s growl while he stroked himself.

“Wakka stupid. Wakka should not stop Yenke and Biran.”

“Wakka not trust you for what Biran and Yenke did,” growled Kimahri in return, shaking his head and mane. “Wakka believes Biran and Yenke up to no good.”

“But Yenke and Biran up to no good,” chuckled Biran, leaning closer and leading Kimahri to a stop, just so the black-furred stud could take a whiff and explore Kimahri’s belly. “Yenke and Biran want Hornless attention. But Hornless wants to lie.”

“Kimahri wants to help Yuna. And Yuna afraid if she knows.”

“Knows what Kimahri accepted? Yuna will know. One day. Kimahri stupid.”

“Kimahri… Wants to spare her.”

Biran’s touch continued for a second, then stopped, before the fingers were pulled and he smacked Kimahri’s ass, loudly.

“Walk and silence, Kimahri. Ruining Biran’s mood,” growled the large Ronso, leading Kimahri to what was their “spot”.

It wasn’t an exact spot outside but a cavern dug through the stones by the tides. The sand was soft and still lukewarm as they followed the beach to the cavern they found the first day they arrived here. Still, Biran and Yenke kept it secret.

And the reason why was obvious when, by stepping in, Kimahri inhaled the strong scent of sex and Ronso musk hanging in the air. The atmosphere was warm, humid… And Kimahri was feeling wet between his legs as he approached the tiny pocket of light.

One lantern with a pyrefly inside and Yenke, by it, stripped bare.

“Kimahri took long?” grunted the pinkish-furred male.

“Wakka asked dumb questions. Not Kimahri’s fault,” explained Biran with a flick of his tail while he stripped, letting Kimahri alone.

None were afraid the blue-furred Ronso would flee his duty or away.

They were right.

“Wakka sees through lies. But Kimahri will not tell truth,” explained the blue-furred Ronso as he stripped. Pauldrons, reinforced bracers, harness, ankles. Then… Within the poor light, Kimahri stood with his bandaged chest and fundoshi that was… Almost flat.

“Wakka stupid. Kimahri stupid. Everyone stupid. Kimahri hornless, everyone should know,” said Biran, waving his arm and sitting by Yenke, stroking his groin and finally releasing it. His cock, long and massive, was an ebony mast that had been Kimahri’s focus many times. And the scent of precum emanating from it made Kimahri’s mouth water as much as the scent from Yenke’s short but wider cock.

Both were studs. Powerful studs.

And in his state, Kimahri wasn’t resisting the urge.

He flicked the bandages with a finger and allowed his ample and heavy bosoms to dangle free. Ever since he’d been taken by the two, those ample jugs were feeling heavier and fuller. Enough to make him feel bothered, bandaged or not.

And the gold dangling from the wide and expanded nipples wasn’t to help.

Not at all as Kimahri approached, inhaling the powerful musk from the two Ronsos once more… And bent over to have his head nestled between Biran’s thighs while his posterior was presented to Yenke, sideways.

Instantly, as the more pungent aroma, localized around Biran’s half-hard cock, hit Kimahri’s nose, his irises widened. His nostrils, too, as he filled his lungs with the pungent musk. And leaned forth to take the tip in mouth.

The taste, flavorful and salty, welcomed him as he began to suckle on the tip and enjoy the flesh’s contact against his lips and tongue.

“Hrmph… Good Kimahri. Better every day,” commented Biran with a snark, slipping a thumb inside Kimahri’s mouth. “Kimahri better female than Lulu.”

“Lulu?”

There was a pause. A moment with Yenke and Biran sharing a glance, then laughing.

“Kimahri not know?” laughed Yenke, his fingers dancing on the plump asscheeks, stroking the fur along while creeping closer to the drippy and moist pot.

“Kimahri stupid. Wakka stupid!”

“What Yenke and Biran have with Lulu?” asked Kimahri, finally pulling his mouth free. But Biran continued to stroke Kimahri’s face.

“Lulu ‘helped’ Yenke and Biran,” said Biran, shrugging.

“Biran… Yenke?”

“Yes,” confirmed Yenke, chuckling.”Lulu helped. Now help if Lulu not stand between Biran and Yenke and Kimahri. Will get helped by Biran and Yenke.”

Kimahri’s ears dropped again, burning. He hadn’t noticed it.

But it seemed to explain why Lulu helped.

“Wakka cuck! But Kimahri’s hole better. Kimahri should learn of Kimahri will be shared Hornless,” commented Biran, poking at Kimahri’s face while continuing to play with that mouth with his thumb.

“Biran… Promised,” said Kimahri, trying to go back to that cock, to that pleasure it offered whenever he tasted it.

“Yenke and Biran promised help Kimahri for Guardian. Never other thing. Kimahri good or Kimahri not best hole.”

Kimahri’s mouth was edging on biting Biran’s fingers, punishing the Ronso for his smug attitude. But he didn’t. Not only because it was stupid. But because he couldn’t… Stop getting the two affections.

Whether it was their hands going over his cheeks, digging inside his holes, exploring his changed body, it was a delightful sensation for the Ronso. The stench of sex and abuse, he’d grown so used and addicted to it. He couldn’t refuse it.

He couldn’t refuse Yenke from digging into his moist spot with three fingers that stretched Kimahri’s tight entrance until he mewled. Neither could he stop Biran from gripping him by the ears to fuck his face.

Each time they did it, each time it was easier for Kimahri to merely close his eyes and allow the two to have their ways with him. Whether it was from playing with his hole, plugging him with trinkets they snatched from the camp… Or merely to have their wondrous cock digging into his orifices.

That’s what it was to be a hornless. Ever since they broke a part of him, Kimahri had been fated to be nothing more than an addict to pleasure and sex.

“But Biran and Yenke can promise,” said Yenke with a chuckle, his mouth licking Kimahri’s plump bottom, while his three fingers were pumping in and out of that cunt.

“Kimahri-” started Kimahri, only for his words to die in a gurgle as his mouth was fucked. Fucked so much, his throat bulged and hurt. But in a good way.

“Silence and listen,” said Biran, pinching Kimahri’s ears.

“Hrmph hrmphh!” tried to nod the Ronso, his eyes watering as his ears were released. The fingers drifted along his mane, his face, then down his neck, right onto his collarbone and his pointing-down breasts to cup and massage them.

“Kimahri promises to tell Kimahri is hornless. And Biran and Yenke will never stop using Kimahri,” stated Yenke, laughing. Then, licking Kimahri’s asshole, teasing the swollen rim.

“Yenke and Biran will use Kimahri.”

“Kimahri fed by Biran and Yenke. Good seed for good wife.”

“Kimahri submit and no Lulu.”

Kimahri’s face continued to burn…

And it wasn’t only from the relentless prodding of his asshole. Nor was it the fingers happily pushing against his ‘purr spot’ through the inside. It was from the shame as he considered the option.

In silence, since he was too occupied to gargle down Biran’s cock and swallow the salty pre delivered by the male who fondled his breasts, pinched it… And somehow, alleviated the pressure that was in them.

A pressure that was already lessening, the more Biran pressed, though… Kimahri was aware of what it was.

One glance down, and he could confirm the droplets of milk coming free from his enlarged nipples… As well as the drippy fluids from his dicklet, forming a salty and sweet mix between his legs.

“Kimahri milk ready. Kimahri good wife,” praised Biran, leaning and bending forth to kiss Kimahri’s horn with a display of flexibility.

“Good wife for good litter,” even added Yenke, pulling his tongue free from the asshole and the cunt. Then, as he stomped around, he had his cock brushing and poking at Kimahri’s holes… Both in tandem. “Cunt for Biran?”

“No. Yenke can take it. Need more litter for Yenke,” nodded Biran before he pulled Kimahri’s mouth away, releasing that throat from the humongous organ.

One Kimahri still licked, unable to resist the appeal.

“Kimahri good wife? Kimahri promises?”

“Kimahri…”

“Kimahri?”

“Kimahri… Not want to tell Yuna,” mumbled Kimahri, ashamed, looking down… And then hissing when Yenke inserted himself inside his cunt, stuffing it to the point Kimahri was feeling his cunt’s walls stretching on either side. Yenke rarely took him but either way, it was always a strong and forceful experience.

“Kimahri saying something?” chuckled Yenke.

“Stupid things,” replied Biran, gripping Kimahri’s chin. “If Kimahri afraid. Yenke and Biran will tell. Yenke and Biran will tell Kimahri is Hornless and better Hornless. Kimahri happy Hornless, yes?”

Kimahri’s mouth opened and closed, then his tongue licked his lips and the precum sticking to it.

The mere taste was enough to please Kimahri, to satisfy him. And he wanted nothing but to choke down on Biran’s cock again.

He learned early he couldn’t cum ever again. But being used and abused, from any hole, had a similar effect. Even having a shaft throbbing by his tongue was something close to an orgasm for Kimahri.

“Kimahri unsure,” mumbled Kimahri, clenching his teeth. “Kimahri wants… Pleasure. But not to break Yuna’s heart.”

“Only Yuna?”

Kimahri nodded, gulping down.

“Then… Yenke and Biran can tell anyone but Yuna. Right?”

“… Yes,” nodded Kimahri, somber.

“Biran and Yenke like that!” confirmed the pinkish Ronso going inside Kimahri’s asshole, alternating between the two entrances with a vile desire. One to use and claim both at the same time as he gave each a few thrusts before moving to the other hole.

Each time, by the time the first hole had stopped burning and hurting, it was battered again. Both holes burned. Both holes were titillating Kimahri’s mind and self as he huffed and looked up to Biran.

“Never tell Yuna.”

“No. If Kimahri good wife.”

“Kimahri good wife.”

Then, with that same deviant smile, Biran gripped Kimahri by the ears and fucked that throat, that face. The massive hairy nuts smacked against Kimahri’s chin, hurting.

But at the same time, followed the potent jet of precum that descended the Ronso’s throat right into the stomach. The liquid was thick, so thick, it was a weight in Kimahri’s stomach. But one soothing weight which erased the hunger and the fear, the horror and the tremors, leaving only a smiling and genuine Ronso choking on that cock.

On who, when pointed at and forced to shift position, did it eagerly.

Soon, with his body half-squatting over Yenke’s groin, bouncing up and down that cock as it dug into his gaping vulva, Kimahri smiled.

He smiled from the fingers, four of them, which were kept close to his asshole so he would impale himself on it whenever he descended. His prostate massaged on either side, his cervix hit by Yenke’s wide cock, his tiny balls smacking against Yenke’s groin, Kimahri even smiled at the licks he sometimes felt on his belly.

But those licks were rare and difficult for Yenke to achieve, especially as Kimahri’s bouncing was made all the more erratic by his attempt to please Biran in a way he’d been recently taught.

Maybe that was something the two learned from Lulu, then.

But Kimahri’s tongue danced on Biran’s cocktip while with his breasts held up and pressed, Kimahri tried to massage the Ronso’s cock.

It was a balancing effort, something the three had to do in common, so much so that the movements were slow, steady, but nonetheless pleasing. Pleasing to feel the throbbing mast by his lips, about to explode. To tense the milk dripping from his teats onto the blue fur before it dropped on Yenke’s face.

And to have Yenke’s cock already releasing spurts and spurts of fluids against his cervix.

“When Yenke and Biran ask, Kimahri will accept requests.”

“Y-Yes,” moaned Kimahri, nodding. Mindful this time.

“Yenke and Biran will use Kimahri tent,” commented Yenke, too, wiggling his digits inside Kimahri’s asshole.

“Kimahri not oppose.”

“And Kimahri no longer hide breasts.”

“Kimahri wear clothes?”

“Yes,” confirmed Biran, holding and tousling Kimahri’s mane, halting every movement for a second before it resumed.

At the same crescendo. But one that was to grow and change as the trio was feeling more and more ravenous. Kimahri, despite the absence of a real orgasm, was the more eager to go faster. But Biran stopped him, halted him.

And Yenke? He merely followed, purred while feeling Kimahri’s holes tensing so regularly, they were akin to a massage.

Then… As the purrs turned into grunts and moans, as the voices from the trio were starting to shift in tone and pace, as the movements were slowing down either from Yenke’s humps and Biran’s pumps…

They came.

Not at the same time.

Yenke was obviously the first as he gripped Kimahri’s hips and drew blood from under the fur, digging his claws into the soft flesh while his cock smacked against Kimahri’s cervix and released a jet of cum right into Kimahri’s innermost parts.

His face contorted, and his hiss was long-winded, proving his stamina as he kept humping Kimahri’s halted hips.

Then… It was Biran’s turn. Not Kimahri’s. Biran’s.

With Yenke stopping, Kimahri had all the leisure to employ his buxom breasts to squeeze and massage the Ronso’s cock. His tongue dancing on the cocktip, Kimahri collected the whiteish precum while his breasts were moving and down against the flesh, pulling on Biran’s foreskin in a massage that was fast, intense, and a bit too brutal for the black-furred Ronso.

Brutal as in, producing the result too fast for what he intended to do.

Biran looked almost dismayed for a second, but the next, he came.

And his cum hit right into Kimahri’s mouth, right into the open gullet, and into the Ronso’s throat as Kimahri swallowed again… And again… And again. Unable to resist the appeal of that warm and sticky cum filling his guts, much like any meal.

He chugged any drop, any shot, anything until there were no traces of Biran’s ejaculation. And Kimahri smiled, unable to resist the desire to kiss Biran’s cocktip one last time.

“Thank… You. Biran.”

“Kimahri not thank me. Biran not done.”

“Yenke too!”

-

There were steps outside.

But the echoing groans and moans coming from the cave told whoever was inside was too busy to care or hear. Nevertheless, the steps were closer and a nose frowned. Then, there was a cough. A grumble. Many more grumbles answered as a distant light, barely a speck, was snuffed out and the cave was entirely in the dark.

“Kimahri. Biran. Yenke. Yuna is worrying about you.”

Auron’s voice was cool and calm, his eye going up to see the moon high above. It was past midnight, probably. Yet, the three Ronsos hadn’t returned and so, as usual, Yuna went to worry about Kimahri in her own way: by staying up and praying but never asking anything or anyone to check up on him.

Auron was about to speak again, and even took one step, when he heard a grumble from inside the cave.

“Kimahri is here.”

Then appeared, like two lights, the two golden eyes. And the slight reflection of the horn. As for the rest of the body, the blue fur was hard to define, though the body that appeared had some traces of sticky white fur here and there, mainly around the face and thighs… And the forms were rounder than usual.

“Auron has problem?” asked Kimahri, still staying in the dark as forms seemed to move. To dance behind the stoic Ronso.

Without answering, Auron grabbed what looked like three stacked bentos from his haori’s left sleeve. And he presented them to Kimahri, stacked. Still, the Ronso didn’t step closer.

“Yuna prepared them for you. I collected them. Should I tell her something?”

“Auron has problem?”

Again, the same question. Though it was heavier with implication as Auron saw a hand, more pinkish than blue, appear in the moonlight for a second. One hand that had gone over Kimahri’s chest, pulling on the reflecting gold.

“No. I have no problem with what you do with Biran and Yenke,” said Auron, shaking his head. “Next time, find a place closer to the camp.”

With that, Auron sighed and put the bentos down on the sand, then turned away.

“Auron.”

This time, it was a different voice. Biran’s. He appeared in the dark, pulling along Kimahri, who looked worse than usual after a fight. His fur was matted with sweat and fluids, and his body appeared indeed more curvaceous. And lacking.

Still, Auron glanced at Biran, who stood out in the moonlight, his cock out and smug.

“Next time. Kimahri will pray in Kimahri’s tent.”

“Good to know.”

“Kimahri will pray loudly.”

Auron arched a brow, almost rolling his eyes.

“And?”

“Kimahri loud wife. But Kimahri not want Yuna to know.”

Finally, Auron stepped away.

“Yuna won’t hear a thing. As long as you keep it to yourselves, horny Ronsos.”

“Good Auron,” chuckled Biran, though already was he fingering Kimahri, the sound of that abused cunt sucking on fingers replacing the nightly tide.