FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Hypnovember 2023 Day 13: Resistance

Written by: TiranMaster

Commissioned by: Teebs13

The paladin's knight glimmered in the moonlight, his eyes sharp, his sword at his hip as he marched up to the cave's entrance. Shadows danced at the edges of the clearing, waiting for the hellhound to drop his guard, to pounce upon the do gooder. With a wave of his hand, a burst of light flashed out, scaring off the void creature's minions. Charil let out a deep growl before stepping into the cave, a slight golden aura dancing across his armor keeping any evil magics at bay. He was an imposing figure, tall, black fur that hinted at highlights of red, but his eyes were a beautiful deep blue that dispersed any idea of misdeeds that he might commit.

"Nysanthea," he said, the word only spoken and yet it echoed into the cave with a solidness that belayed his soft tone. "I have come to undo the misdeeds you commit in our lands." He started forward, his boots pressing into the sand that laid upon the floor of her cave, his posture tall and almost regal. "I have fought hard on behalf of all hellhounds to show that we are not inherently evil beings, that we too can create good in the world."

A series of creatures came after him, feral beasts that had been infused with her goo, turning them into strange and eerie monsters. Charil's golden aura dealt with many of them, purging the corruption from their body, and those that were too far gone were dealt with quick blows from his silver blade. "I'm sorry," the paladin said, feeling an ache in his heart as he was forced to deal with them. He knew that he was doing the right thing though, the hellhound's eyes narrowing as he continued forth.

There were people within the cave as well, many of them in a state of undress, leaving their bodies nearly completely naked. Men, women, their bodies had been altered subtly, scales that went up their arms, their necks, their eyes marked with red irises. "Come, lay with me," a wolf purred, drawing her hands up her sides towards her ample breasts, "play with me," she said, a seductive smile on her muzzle.

Charil didn't bother, he just looked forward and walked past, knowing that they wouldn't approach. These minions would either be too smart to approach a paladin, or they would be burned by his devout belief. "You have sullied the name of hellhounds, void beast," he said coldly, "we were building our names up once more. Then you appear in the guise of my kind, you seduce and corrupt, and you proudly state that you do so for it is your nature." His words dripped with anger, contempt, and a hint of sadness. "For this, I have come to undo your deeds by my hands, first I shall rid the world of you, and then I will start fixing your misdeeds."

He stepped into a large chamber where a dragon lounged upon an enormous pile of silks stacked to support her body, the amount of riches she laid upon was enough to feed several villages. There were various supplicants at her feet, all looking towards him with... pity? "Welcome," Nysanthea purred, her voice husky, seductive, her expression filled with pleasure. "I'm so sorry that you had to walk all this way just to meet me, but I hate to disappoint my followers," she said, gesturing with one long claw to all of her enslaved followers.

Letting out a steadying breath, Charil drew his blade from its hilt, closing his eyes as he called upon his god to bless him. He knew that not all hellhounds were evil, after all, would his god have allowed him into their good graces had he not been a good person? "Nysanthea, I shall offer you this only once, leave this realm and free these people of your corruption. Then, and only then, will I return my sword to its sheathe. Else, I will have to slay you."

When the hellhound returned his eyes to where the dragon had been laying though, she had moved, in an instant she had appeared before him. She was only twenty feet away from him, but she was no longer in her draconic form. She had taken upon her hellhound appearance, long white hair dangling over her shoulders, red eyes burning into him as she smiled at him pityingly. Behind her, the many subjects she had, looked at her with desire, rubbing themselves inappropriately, crawling towards her longingly.

A moment of anger overcame Charil, he hated the form that she had taken, it bore the appearance of a hellhound, but one overcome by corruption. He had managed to build himself a reputation amongst the people of the land, had slowly uncurled their hatred of hellhounds from their hearts... but she had managed to dash that hard work in an instant. "Well, well, well," she purred, "you're so angry, paladin. For being a representative of the good and the blessed, you are showing quite a bit of your demonic roots, aren't you?" she purred.

"I am not a demonic beast," Charil growled, his grasp on his sword's hilt tightening, "I have strived to bring good to the world, to show the people that despite one's birth, anyone is capable of doing benevolent deeds." His nostrils flared as he caught a whiff of something, it was spicy, it was heavy on the air and growing by a moment.

Thea approached him, her movements slow and seductive, one of her clawed hands dragging through her silvery white hair. "Oh, but to give into one's demonic nature is... liberating, don't you think? I'm sure you've done many good things, and that is all well and good... but doesn't giving into your darker side just... light a fire in you?" Several of her subjects moaned at delight, grabbing onto one another, kissing each other amorously as they gave into their desires.

Despite himself, Charil gulped in the back of his throat, something within him jumping at the suggestion of his dark desires. The hellhound had long worked to balance himself, to bury his demons, and yet this dragon in hound's clothing had managed to flicker something that Charil had long thought gone. "I will not be swayed by your words, demon," he snarled, stepping forward even as he felt a throb. It had been so long since he'd felt his manhood that it caused him to stagger, his cock slightly hardened within his armor.

Drawing in a deep breath, Nysanthea's grin turned feral as she stared at him with those blistering red eyes. "I can smell it, paladin, your desire. You can try to fight it as much as you want, but I can feel it, it calls out to me as it calls out to you. We are both born from darkness, but only one of us has chosen to accept it thus far."

The closer the demon drew, the stronger the smell became, Charil's heart pounding hard in his chest as he fought down the growing tide of feelings inside of himself. He had never been this close to such a powerful demon, especially one that could apparently call to his own inner evil. "I am a paladin of the light," Charil growled, his eyes flickering for a moment, so very brief... but for a second, the beautiful blue became a hellish red. "I am Charil, the hellhound for whom the gods have called upon to bring light to the world, and I will be your doom, Nysanthea."

"So dramatic," Nysanthea said with a roll of her eyes, and she grinned wickedly as she leaned in closer. Charil didn't even notice himself leaning forward to hear her as she whispered, her words inaudible to any but him. "You can fight it as much as you want, Charil, but I can see it just under the surface. You've built up a mask to bear the brunt of the world's accusations, one who clings to a societal standard that you think you need to cling to... but it's all a lie."

Something shifted, Charil felt his legs grow a bit weak, his hand's grip on the hilt of his sword starting to loosen ever so much as he listened to her words. Her voice was raspy, every syllable chosen carefully, and her scent was... enticing. The hellhound's legs spread a bit as his cock thickened for the first time in a long time, his fur bristling as he found himself entranced by her words. "Within you is a demonic heritage, one that you have pushed away for too long, but if you would like... I could draw it out."

Mere minutes earlier Charil would have shut her down, told her that she was wrong... but he found that part growing quieter. "You could?" He heard himself say the words, his own voice sounded oddly deeper, more guttural. The paladin felt a sense of panic as he realized how little he was in control, something else was in control, something more primal. His blood was boiling with need, the essence of the demon was so close to the surface that it ached.

Charil tried to call upon the gods to help him, to protect him... but the light of the gods seemed so very distant at that moment. His irises contracted as he took another deep gulp of that delicious scent, so sinful, so divine that it tasted better than the power from the gods themselves. "Oh yes, all you need to do is strip that armor away, slough it as if you were a serpent removing its old skin," she purred, reaching out a hand to stroke his chin.

A growl escaped the hellhound as he felt her claws drawing through his fur, scratching him under the chin, his loins burned with need as his eyes simmered a deep red. "Yes..." he growled, and he started to strip off the armor. It was a desperate motion, he needed to pull it all off, to help embrace the inner demon he had rejected so long. The sword he'd wielded was laying on the ground, forgotten, so unimportant that Charil hadn't even noticed himself dropping it. He stripped his gauntlets, his chestplate, his pants, everything had to come off.

The more of the armor came off, the more that sensation grew, the holy protections being slipped away piece by piece. Charil's eyes were growing more crimson by the moment, his features growing a little more bestial, his body swelling with new energy. "That's it," Nysanthea purred, walking around him, running her hands over his fur as he bared it to the tainted air. "Give in, little paladin, release the demon you've kept penned up for so long."

The hellhound moaned as he felt her hand fondle his manhood, cupping his balls, he panted as he found those thoughts of sanctity and goodness slipping out of his mind. It was all he could do to resist pushing her over, ravaging her, giving in to his demonic side. He froze as she tapped his chest, his black fur somehow deeper than it had ever been, the color oozing with demonic energy. "Remove this... and you'll have what you want," she purred, gesturing to the only thing he still wore.

There was a holy mark, the final piece of Charil's paladin pride, he stared at it with confusion. What was a mark of the gods doing upon him? He wanted to worship Nysanthea, and yet he wore a mark of her destroyers?! He reached up and clutched it, ready to rip it away... and noticed the scales that now adorned his arms. More than just succumbing to his own demonic bloodline, Nysanthea had been corrupting him, implating him with her personal brand of influence. Scales that ran their way up his arms, glimmering amongst his fur, and he wouldn't be surprised if there were some on his neck as well. For a moment he hesitated, Charil was certain that if he gave in now... he might be lost forever.

When he looked forward, he locked eyes with the demon before him, her blood red eyes glimmering in the darkness of the cave. "Remove it," she commanded. The hellhound did as his mistress commanded, ripping it from his throat and tossing it aside. He growled as he was released from the gods' grip, reveling as he could feel his true essence being suffused with the demoness' own power.

"Follow me, hound," Nysanthea commanded, gesturing for him to follow after him. The hellhound growled deep in his chest as he looked at her wantingly, his erection so hard as it hadn't been for many years. Around them were the discarded pieces of a paladin's outfit, but the demonic pair didn't pay them any heed. Charil would do anything she asked of him, would taint the name of hellhounds in the days to come, and he would revel in it.