FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Ryder flicked on the light he had strapped to his head as he squeezed through a dark, partially collapsed alleyway. Sometimes, going under the rubble was easier than going over it, and although there was a risk, it was worth it for the sheer amount of time saved. That, and the dusty underpasses were the best places to find lost belongings and artifacts.

He had explored the city ruins countless times. Hell, he earned his entire living exploring this ruined and very forbidden city. People paid the inquisitive sergal big money to bring back artifacts from the forgotten ages, and he was all too happy to oblige. The ruins were forbidden to enter under penalty of prison time, but that had never deterred him, and besides, he’d never even seen a single guard. In fact, he hadn’t seen anything dangerous except precariously stacked rocks and decayed buildings, either, no matter how dangerous it supposedly was.

The city, which had – as far as he or anyone he had asked knew – been in ruins for a hundred years or so, was in that state for entirely unknown reasons. Some said earthquake. Some said tsunami, as it was in the harbor. Others said a plague had emptied it and then a hurricane had brought it down. Some even argued that it was a war with the country on the other side of the ocean. Nobody knew for sure, but what everyone did know was that:

One – the real reason it had happened had been so thoroughly expunged from all records that even the infamously inefficient government couldn’t leak the real cause.

Two – the ruins were known to be extremely dangerous. Anyone who went there too often never returned.

Ryder had always thought that second bit of common knowledge to be rather hilarious, as he had made the journey over twenty times, through various sectors of the city, with little more than a fine particulate mask, a bottle of water, and a backpack.

Whatever danger had once been there, he had concluded, had long since departed. But that was good for him. The fewer people that dared venture in, the more unspoken exclusive rights the sergal had to everything he found, such as a little gold coin that he spotted in the rubble just as the thought crossed his mind. Instantly, he moved to pick it up, though the moment he did, he dropped with a surprised yelp.

The coin was hot. That couldn’t be a good thing. It had an odd engraving, but Ryder had read and seen enough to know that objects that seemed to emit heat for no reason were not good for you. Probably radioactive, and if it was hot enough to almost burn him, very radioactive. The sergal quickly moved on, making space between himself and the coin as quickly as he could. Hopefully, whatever he had absorbed – his mind had already decided that the heat definitely meant radioactivity – wasn’t enough to cause him any harm.

The engraving, though. The coin had featured something like nine circles within each other. Like an atomic nucleus and electrons, maybe. He wasn’t much of a scientist, though, so for all Ryder knew it might’ve been a cross-section of a tree or a matryoshka doll. The point was that it was like nothing he had seen before, and the pattern had stuck to his memories, burning itself into his head just as the coin had almost burned his fingers.

Ah well, whatever it meant couldn’t be that important. But it did suggest that it might’ve been a nuclear bomb or a meltdown that’d destroyed the city. Maybe he could earn something by sharing that knowledge with people, though then again, the first time he visited had been with a Geiger counter, and it hadn’t detected anything at all.

There – in the distance. A building the sergal hadn’t seen before! Towers, enormous windows of which some remained intact and adorned with stained glass. A chapel? No, too small for that. A cathedral.

A cathedral meant riches. And while Ryder would’ve hesitated to steal from an active one, this place hadn’t been visited for at least a hundred years. Whatever god or congregation had once claimed whatever valuables awaited inside had long since forsaken that claim. Chances were that nobody alive even knew of the building. At most it existed in some church records for some denomination somewhere.

The doors were blocked by rubble, but one window was completely shattered, and the rubble provided an easy hill to climb up and get through it. In only a few seconds, the nimble sergal had clambered to the top and looked in through the window, only to be treated to a strange sight. The cathedral’s interior was almost intact. The air smelled like… his nose twitched. Frankincense? No, he had to be imagining things. There was no reason to think anyone had been there for ages, no matter how intact it looked.

But he did see something. The altar, still draped with a worn-looking cloth, was also adorned with two enormous candelabra, and they – though covered with dust – gleamed like only one metal did: gold.

Nimbly, Ryder dropped down into the cathedral. Instantly, a chill shot up his spine. There was a pervasive feeling of wrong, as if he was being watched by all the angels as he planned to plunder a supposedly sacred place of worship.

But it’s abandoned. Nobody has cared about any of this stuff for ages. You need it, they don’t. Isn’t it the poor who need it the most? Isn’t that what the good book says? Definitely need it more than ghosts, at least.

His excuses felt hollow, but at the same time, Ryder knew he was right. He made his way to the altar and brushed off the leftmost candelabra. He hefted it in his hand, feeling the weight, and then tried to reflect the dim overcast light filtering in from the outside in the metal’s sheen. Indeed, from what the sergal could tell, it was solid gold, and that meant he was going to make a lot of money off this trip. All those worries about being watched were instantly washed away by satisfaction as he slid the heavy thing into his backpack and then grabbed the other. They both barely fit at all, but he’d make it work. Gotta be worth hundreds. Thousands, maybe, he thought. A quick glance around the altar revealed nothing more, except for – wait. A single gold coin. The chilling shiver Ryder had felt before returned, this time making his entire body tremble. It had the same engraving as before, of the nine-ringed circles. And…

…he leaned down to hover his hand over it, only to recoil. It carried the same unnatural, fiery heat. Something was very wrong here.

“Observe your motivations for stealing from the sacred sites of your people,” a voice came from behind him. Ryder grabbed the second candelabra and prepared to swing it as he spun around, pure adrenaline giving him the strength to hoist the heavy gold thing as if it were nothing.

Behind him stood a dog. Holding the candelabra high, Ryder looked him over quickly. He was hunched over, with sickly yellow eyes, but slick and clean fur from head to toe. He also had horns. Two of them, both curvy and ridged, extending from his temples. And he was naked, with a visibly wet canine cock jutting from between his legs, a string of oddly yellow-looking precum dangling from the tip.

“Now, now. We’re here for the same reason, separated only by the time,” the hound grinned, holding up a clawed hand in a reconciliatory, yet vague gesture. “Calm yourself, there is mutual profit to be made.”

“What do you mean?” Ryder spat out. Only slowly did he lower his improvised weapon when the hound didn’t make any aggressive motions.

“You are willing to rob a cathedral. I can offer you so much more. I can tell you where all the treasures of the city are buried, if you’re willing to cross another line with me,” the hound murmured. He leaned forward, ever so slightly, sniffing the air, and then reached out to grasp a particular empty space in the air. Suddenly, his palm was overflowing with the golden coins from earlier, and with so many in one place, Ryder could feel the heat radiating from them.

The abyss. The nine circles represented the nine circles of hell. The coins belonged to the creature itself, and quickly, everything fell into place.

Ryder had never seen a demon before, but this one fit all the folklore he had passively absorbed through his life. He was a hellhound, come here to offer the sergal a deal. The smell of incense in the air had faded away and been replaced by something more like brimstone and fire. If the hound was a demon, making a deal was a bad idea, but the sergal did need the money.

“What kind of line? What is the deal you’re offering?” Ryder asked.

“Nothing much. It won’t even damn your immortal soul unless you choose to let it do so. I wish only to bless you, little sergal,” the demon rumbled, and then straightened up briefly, as if to emphasize the fact that when not hunched over, he was a good head and shoulders taller than Ryder. “Hardly a good deal for myself at all, as you seem like a strong-willed man.”

“Then why offer it?” the sergal asked. Assuming that the other male was a demon, he wouldn’t make deals he didn’t benefit from.

The hellhound took a step closer. “Because my blessing will tempt you. And if you succumb, you will belong to me and my master,” he replied. “And I like watching you mortals struggle.”

The coins fell from his palm like a golden rain over the tiles of cathedral floor as he held his hand out.

“I swear that if you resist the temptations, nothing will happen that lasts beyond twenty-four hours other than you growing richer. Much richer,” he rumbled. “Do you accept?”

Bad idea, Ryder, he told himself, but at the same time, this was the opportunity of a lifetime. He could resist, couldn’t he? It wouldn’t be anywhere near the first time he couldn’t do what he wanted. He took the demon’s hand.

With an amber flash of his eyes, the hellhound pulled him close, effortlessly. His body was like a furnace, radiating a near scalding heat that would quickly overwhelm anyone, but initially, it felt more comfortable than anything in the cold air. He pressed his snout against Ryder’s in a display of perverted intimacy that left the sergal’s whole body tingling.

“Open your mouth. Breathe,” the hellhound told him. And then he opened his jaws wide and caught the sergal in a deep kiss.

Ryder breathed in, and the sensation was incredible. The sulfurous vapor of the hellhound’s breath quickly shifted into the same incense-scent he had sensed earlier, and it both burned and soothed his lungs as he melted into the tainted kiss.

As the demon kissed him, Ryder couldn’t help but moan as the world wobbled around him, like a mirage, or maybe a melting ice sculpture. The ruined cathedral grew intact and vibrant, as if time was- no, not time. The angle was changing, like looking into a prism from another vantage point, or rotating a kaleidoscope.

Ryder felt himself grow hard as rock, too. His cock strained eagerly at the front of his jeans, almost painfully erect as infernal vitality surged through him.

The hellhound released Ryder, and he stumbled back, only to see himself in a perfectly intact cathedral, clad in flowers – roses and thorny brambles – though just as empty as it had been. Outside, he could hear voices. Moans.

“What… what was that? What did you do?” Ryder coughed. His entire body felt warm, just like the demon’s own had.

“The breath of Avernus. It has shifted you, mm… half a sideways step into the aether, into the infernal immaterium, and now you see the world as I do,” the hellhound grinned. “Have fun. Return here in twenty-four hours and I will reward you. I would recommend remaining in our beautiful city and exploring its many wonders.”

The hellhound turned around, but then glanced over his shoulder with a smug grin. “Oh, you might want to look at your cock, too. A little reward to get you started.”

And then he was gone in a burst of flame, leaving the sergal no time to ask any questions, to protest, nor to even consider what he had just done. Ryder immediately tugged down his pants only to find his cock springing out eagerly, quite a bit longer and thicker than before… and unmistakably canine, with a tapered, leaking end and a proud knot growing near the base. A hellhound’s cock, no doubt.

You knew perfectly well that there’d be a catch, Ryder, he scolded himself, fighting the urge to rub that perfect, beautiful cock, and instead stuffing it back into his pants. He only had to resist for a day. Child’s play, really.

Though the hellhound had said something about the city’s delights. Ryder walked up to the front doors of the cathedral and pushed them open. There was no rubble blocking them, not in this half-infernal reality, and instead of ruins, he stepped onto a scene so indescribably vivid that it made his eyes sting, at first. The colors were so intense that they were hard to look at. The architecture sharp but elegant, marred by countless signs advertising services, each lustier and more perverted than the last. Demons of all possible shapes were fucking on the streets, and the smell of sex hung like an erotic miasma in the air.

What had he gotten himself into? Had the city always been like this, with the sergal simply unable to see past the illusion of ruins? Was this the great danger that nobody ever returned from?

One thing was certain. He had to get off the streets before the erotic scents, needy moans, and unfathomably lewd sights got to him. Ryder quickly ducked into a nearby building advertising itself as a restaurant, the only one that sounded remotely non-sexual anywhere nearby.

As the door swung shut behind him, Ryder found himself facing a relatively ordinary-looking … not restaurant, notably, but something more akin to a video shop, like the ones from the eighties and nineties. It looked mostly normal, bar for the dim lighting – not that the sergal’s demon-influenced eyes didn’t pierce the darkness just fine – and the fact that the cashier was some kind of completely naked, goatlike demon with skin like dancing flames.

“Ah. Newcomer. Real newcomer, aren’cha?” the goat laughed as he looked at Ryder. “Just got shown the ropes, eh? Don’t it just beat just being a mere mortal?”

“Um, I made a little… deal,” Ryder replied, and the goat only laughed harder.

“Yeah, ‘em deals. Hellhound, right? I can smell that dog breath all over you,” he commented. “Well, ain’t my place to corrupt ya. What’re you hungry for?”

“Uh… is this really a restaurant?” Ryder asked. He didn’t see any tables.

“Sure is. Dishes get served in the back rooms,” the goat grinned. The horizontal pupils made it rather hard for Ryder to trust him, though.

“I guess I’m in the mood for… um, some kind of beef?” he replied.

“Right, right. That’ll be stall three to the left,” the goat replied, and winked.

Ryder didn’t dare argue. Eating in stalls was weird, but at least in here it was just him and the goat, and not a whole orgy of demons whose beautiful bodies and sexy scents would mercilessly tease him until he had no choice but whip out his leaking, throbbing hellhound cock and… well, there was really only one outcome after that.

He walked down a corridor lined with stalls, until he found the third and stepped inside. The door immediately slammed shut behind him, hard enough to make him jump, and rather than the expected meal, he was faced with a cock sticking through a hole in the wall. A bull’s cock, though going by how obscenely big and leaky it was, it belonged to a demonic bull.

The worst part was that rather than the expected anger at the demons and their trickery, Ryder found himself salivating looking at the anonymous shaft. The way it throbbed, the smell of pure – well, almost pure, it carried that musky hint of incense – masculine sexuality filled the little stall.

Was this really how the demons “fed”, or was it purely a trap for tourists like himself?

He tried the door. It was locked. Sealed even. It felt damn near like there was no door there at all. For a moment, the old reality flickered through his view; the bathroom was ruined, and he was trapped. He was surrounded by rubble on all sides, so densely packed that he couldn’t even see sunlight. Except he wasn’t. Not yet. Not as long as he could stay “half a sideways step in the aether” as the hellhound had put it.

And that was exactly the excuse he needed and the one he was willing to give himself. He had to suck the offered cock to prolong his visit here, or he’d die off dehydration in the middle of a ruin he’d never have a chance of escaping.

Ryder sank to his knees, and with no further hesitation, wrapped his fingers around the demonic bull-cock, giving it a smooth stroke from tip to the heavy balls dangling through the hole. It felt so warm in his hand. Hot. Hot and desirable. Seductive. Before he knew it, the sergal’s mouth was open and his warm lips were pressed against the leaky tip of the demon’s cock, applying the gentlest suction and letting his tongue trace over the slit. Instantly, he felt warm again; the ruins around him faded away fully and the “restaurant” re-established itself, pheromone-laden musk and all.

Ryder began to suck, taking the demonic shaft deeper into his mouth and lapping over the soft spines and ridges. Deeper, deeper, until the tip nudged against his throat. The taste was like the best food he had ever eaten, with just enough burn to leave his mouth tingling for more.

Maybe it was the taste of corruption itself.

On the other side of the wall, the bull grunted with pleasure as Ryder began to bob his head up and down on the bull’s shaft, never letting the suction break as he sucked – no, worshipped – the offered cock, letting the slick, hot precum carry its corruption into his own belly. He needed it, he told himself, to get out of here, even as his own cock engorged to full hardness in his pants.

It felt so good, anyway, to just take that corruption into himself. To burn away his soul on carnal pleasures like every demon had. That was why he was here, wasn’t it? To worship, to get fucked, to mate like a wild animal and revel in every hedonistic pursuit one could imagine, to wallow and roll in sexual desire and filth as hellhounds always did, until it was time to return to-

-his master.

Before Ryder had a chance to really consider what that realization meant, the bull’s cock pulsed, and then his mouth was full of thick, warm cum. So much of it that he could barely even swallow it all. The bull on the other side of the wall pushed his hips against the wall, trying to drive his cock deeper into Ryder’s angular snout, snorting and grunting with pleasure as he flooded the sergal’s mouth with musky cum. But feeling that mess slide down his throat was only the first sensation.

The second was an intense rush, just as when the hellhound had kissed him, that left him swooning, his entire body glowing with pleasure and something more, something dirty and tainted and sticky, like black oil coating his soul, but it felt so fucking good.

Ryder was left gasping when the bull, satisfied with his service, yanked his cock out and left without a single word of appreciation, much less praise. Cum dripped from his lips, and again, he barely fought back the urge to pull his cock out to stroke it. Oh, there was shame, embarrassment, all of that; it was just that it was faint and weak compared to the glowing embers of pleasure set in his skull. Corruption, it turned out, felt amazing. And that was when the sergal really realized how much trouble he was actually in.

He stumbled out of the stall and towards the “restaurant’s” entrance.

“Hope ya enjoyed your taste of beef, mortal,” the goat guffawed, his tone a mocking and cruel one, now. “Oh, I can just about smell the taint on ya, now. Hey, real tip here-”

Ryder marched out of the building and slammed the door shut behind himself, ignoring whatever the goat said about how he recommended just getting it over with and succumbing to the corruption.

He was right, of course, that being a demon probably felt better, if sucking that stranger bull’s cock had been anything to go by. But it was a matter of pride, now. Ryder had to resist. He had to at least try to resist. And yet, his morphed shaft ached with need.

Fuck it. If he didn’t take care of it, he’d fall for the first temptation he came across. Ryder ducked into a dark alleyway, just a brief walk away from the central square where demons of all kinds were happily mating and rutting, and undid his pants. His cock flopped out, and oh, it looked so much bigger than before, like all of his lust and corruption were focused on that one part of him. Like he was swollen with demonic taint. His cock was bright red, the knot at the base fully engorged already, but by now he also had ridges, which no natural canine would. Fleshy bumps that’d no doubt drive his partners wild with pleasure as it plunged in and out.

He ran his fingers over the slick surface, and it was like electricity, except throughout his whole body. That tainted part of his anatomy was begging to be touched, and yet, as Ryder wrapped his fingers around the unfamiliar length and began to stroke, he felt almost nothing. The sergal let out a whimper of frustration, stroking harder, and harder, but he only managed to make himself more needy.

“Hey, what’s this?” someone asked. “A tourist? With a cute little hellhound cock, trying to get himself off?”

With his cheeks burning with embarrassment, Ryder turned to face the source of the voice. This time, he couldn’t tell the species of the creature addressing him. Maybe a tiger, though he seemed permanently wreathed in shadow and difficult to focus on, as if Ryder’s eyes kept slipping off his form.

“Your owner didn’t tell you?” the shadow-tiger rumbled as he stepped – or floated, maybe – closer to the sergal. “We demons can’t get ourselves off. And it’s why we’re forever cursed to, well, be as we are.”

“That’s not fair,” Ryder hissed from between gritted teeth. “He tricked me.”

“Did you ask? It’s not our fault if you don’t ask to see the contract,” the shadow grinned. “Mm, lucky hellhound. And lucky me.”

“Lucky you?”

“Well, you can hardly leave here without getting some help with that, can you?” the tiger laughed. A wispy, barely material hand brushed over Ryder’s cock and nearly sent him into paroxysms. Unlike Ryder’s own hand, the tiger’s felt amazing, but he gave the sergal no more than a brief touch.

“Of course, you’re not going to get off that easily, fledgling,” he purred, floating in behind Ryder. Despite his ghostly, dark anatomy, one part of him was just as hard as expected from a demonic male, and it seemed to naturally press under Ryder’s clothed tail.

Once again Ryder felt that sting of desperation. Only this time there was no excuse like being trapped if he didn’t indulge. All there was, was his burning desire and the corrupted tiger’s offer, and if he took it, it’d leave him worse off.

But if he didn’t, who was to say that he wouldn’t be begging a far worse demon for relief later? How long had it been since the hellhound’s deal? Couldn’t have been more than a few hours, and he was already throbbing at the idea of getting mounted by a demon. How many chances would he get before he was hopelessly corrupted?

“Could be half a dozen,” the tiger purred, those surprisingly strong smoky arms pushing Ryder against the alleyway wall. “Or it could be less. But you don’t really care, do you? That’s why you’re going to let me fuck you.”

“I’m… not, not going to let you fuck me,” Ryder growled, and yet, his thick tail was neatly out of the way, leaving the demon easy access.

“Really now? And then what will you do with this?” the demon asked, a tendril of smoke coiling around Ryder’s cock and squeezing hard enough to nearly make the sergal pass out with pleasure. “Trust me, there are far worse things than being fucked by a mere shade in this city. Such as being kissed by a hellhound. I bet he didn’t tell you about that?”

“…no?” Ryder groaned.

“I can tell you exactly what you got yourself into. If you raise that tail, that is,” the tiger continued, emphasizing his words with a little bump of his hips against Ryder’s ass. Not even waiting for a reply, the shade pulled his jeans down, and Ryder was too frozen with lust to say anything. He did want to know what the hellhound was trying to do so that he could avoid whatever demonic fate was planned for him.

And that was exactly the excuse that his frayed mind needed. The unquestionable excuse to succumb to pleasure for a seemingly good cause, like an alcoholic being told he needed to have a drink at a social event. The shadow must’ve felt his sudden willingness, and that cock of his, that had only been nudging at the sergal’s entrance, was suddenly sinking into him, inch by inch.

“Rrrh. Oh, you’ll make a good fucktoy for us,” the tiger growled, shamelessly possessively driving himself deeper into Ryder’s clenching, warm body. “You get three chances.”

“T-three- what the fuck,” Ryder groaned. The shadowy cock filling what felt like every inch of him seemed to swell even bigger. “Get off me!”

“Nope, you already lost your second chance,” the tiger purred. A sharp and jagged thrust made the sergal moan. “The moment you agreed to be my little broodmare.”

“F-f-fuck you,” the sergal groaned, and even then, he couldn’t muster any willpower to throw the tiger off as his shadowy coils curled around his body.

“Mhm. So, you have one chance left. And I think your hellhound friend will want to take that one,” the tiger grunted, working up a leisurely, practiced pace of rutting into the sergal’s entirely too willing ass. “But you’re already shaping up nicely.”

A rapid series of hard little thrusts had the sergal moaning. He felt himself clench around that surprisingly hard cock, for how ill-defined the entire creature was. And with each thrust, he felt that sticky, oily, tainted feeling all the more acutely, spreading through his body. He let out a growl that barely sounded like a sergal’s at all, and it wasn’t until then that he realized that it wasn’t just his cock changing; it was all off him.

As he looked down, the first thing he saw was his demon-dog cock bouncing with each thrust, scattering droplets of precum over the ground and wall. The second was that his fur was turning black, oily almost, like a physical manifestation of what his soul – or at least he assumed had to be his soul – felt like. Filthy. And he loved it. He wanted to roll around in that spiritual filth until it covered him head to toe. Ryder clenched, this time deliberately, around the tiger’s thrusting shaft. The shaft that was already drooling more of that corruption into him.

_ _“Feeling it, aren’t you? That sexy, sexy sensation of your soul burning and melting, Soon there’ll be nothing left of you except a horny demon, just like us,” the tiger rumbled, seemingly growing more physical with each ounce of innocence and purity it devoured. “Wouldn’t you like that, slut? No more thinking about the affairs of mortals, only where to find the next soul to nibble on, the next submissive hole to fuck… or cock to ride.”

Ryder huffed as the tiger’s shadow-tendrils tightened around his cock, stroking him to the rhythm of his own thrusts. The whole situation was bad. Beyond bad. But by now the changing and increasingly tainted sergal could do nothing about it. His corrupted hellhound cock was in full control of his actions as the tiger pumped it, bringing him closer and close to a shuddering climax. And fuck, he needed that climax, needed it more than anything!

Letting the tiger cum inside him apparently wasn’t the third “chance” he’d get, and so it surely couldn’t do him any harm, Ryder assured himself, but it was only seconds after that thought that all choice was taken away from him. The pleasure was too much, the tiger’s merciless milking of his cock pushing him over the edge. With a loud, needy moan, the sergal came, splattering the wall with his thick, increasingly demonic cum, so hot that it steamed in the cool air, tainting the fallen city further. And he kept cumming, the tiger not letting go of his twitching, jerking cock at all. As he came, he clenched around the demon’s cock, too, milking it, physically begging for his corrupting load inside him. And the tiger was all too happy to provide.

With a dark, deep roar, he hilted himself in Ryder’s ass, and the sergal felt the base of his cock twitch, felt the demon’s balls swell with tainted seed, and then: throb. The demonic seed lanced into him like liquid fire, setting his very mind aflame with pleasure. For a moment the world didn’t exist as an in-between state of ruins and intact city. It existed as a roaring firepit of pleasure, of only lust-struck bodies writhing and gyrating and rutting, filling and being filled, cumming freely and constantly-

-he nearly slumped against the wall, rumble-growling quietly to himself in pleasure, dizzy with the ecstasy off being properly seeded with tainted demon-cum. It felt like some kind of twisted heaven of sex, and he never wanted to leave it.

Nor would he have to, if you just surrendered, he told himself, in an increasingly teasing and unfamiliar inner voice.

The corruption was perhaps best described as feeling like ecstatic, manic madness. The impossible and the unwanted began to both seem and feel desirable, and the rush of power and pleasure that surged like lightning through Ryder’s tainted form were addictive. Nobody could truly go back after feeling that sexy influx of demonic power, but that didn’t stop them from trying.

Ryder, for his part, was left panting, his chest flat against the worn brick wall while the tiger finished spending himself under the sergal’s tail, making sure to squeeze every last drop of his seed into the poor mortal’s body.

“You have such a nice ass. You’re not even a demon yet and you’re still milking cocks like your life depended on it,” the tiger chuckled, in the same mocking tone most of the demons seemed to employ after getting what they want. “But here’s some real advice…”

He paused, leaning over the sergal, whose fur was growing blacker and blacker, his eyes beginning to gleam the same brimstone yellow that the other demons’ did. He placed his shadowy muzzle next to Ryder’s ear, and then whispered.

“You’re not going to survive out here. Head back to the cathedral and deal with the hellhound yourself,” he said, each word a little puff of heat. “You’ll probably still lose your soul. But no mortal can survive with theirs intact in this city. That was how he tricked you.”

“What do you-” Ryder groaned, barely finding his voice for long enough to speak. “What do you m-“

“Hush. The entire city fell to us, in one long orgy. What hope does one person have of resisting something nobody else ever has? But mortals have outsmarted hellhounds, before.”

Ryder practically felt the demon smile his wispy, shadowed grin. He certainly heard it in his husky voice.

“Or you could just embrace being a hellhound. You look half like one already. It’s not a bad life, just eternal submission to your master and constantly getting fucked by your packmates.”

He paused, and then let go. There was the barest little hint of compassion, maybe caring. The demons weren’t truly evil, even if they were soulless; they were simply governed by purely carnal instincts with little in the way of inhibitions or shame, which naturally resulted in them wanting to spread the corruption that turned them into such erotic creatures. But sometimes, they did show glimpses of other emotions, if only briefly.

“You did a good job as a cum dump, though,” the shadow-tiger added, back to his normal self, and then pulled out of the sergal. A deluge of cum followed, soaking Ryder’s legs in the mess.

Not that he really minded. He was half tempted to roll around in the spillover, to really get it all over himself. Maybe to lick it up. It took every last ounce of his willpower to not immediately succumb to the urge, and the feeling of resisting was like trying to climb up an oiled slide. Or trying to crawl through a hedgerow naked. Difficult and almost painful.

“Good look for you, too. One more piece of advice,” the tiger said, turning Ryder around and cupping his chin with a hand – a clawed hand that the sergal only now noticed was attached backwards to his wrist, the palm where the back of the hand should be – and continued. “It really does feel much better if you choose to let it happen.”

Then his appearance shifted into oily smoke that lost all of the feline definition, lazily floating away into the deeper reaches of the city, leaving Ryder alone to deal with the aftermath. He had the distinct feeling that the cum leaking out off his ass would attract more demons to him. Unfounded, but not unrealistic, given their sex-obsessed nature.

So, you could just go to that gloryhole restaurant and offer your ass if they’re into it.

Bend over in the town square and let them all do what they want.

Beg to fucking clean their tainted cocks after they finish fucking each other.

Those intrusive, corrupt, sickly thoughts came more often, now, crowding out attempted reasoning. All Ryder knew was that the tiger was right. He had no chance if he didn’t hide away in the cathedral. He had little chance even then, but that was better than utter hopelessness.

He felt like prey as he made his way back. Nobody cared, not yet, but he knew that if he lingered in the open air for the smell of cum and sex to spread, they would come for him eventually. Ryder got to the cathedral, pulled the doors open, and stepped inside. The noise of the public, endless orgy outside faded away, stopped by the thick stone walls.

The hellhound was there, of course, grinning at the sergal and drooling from the corners of his pitch-black maw.

“Two hours, and I can smell at least two demons on you. In you,” the hellhound mocked him. “Were you planning to try at all, or was this just an excuse to embrace your depraved inner slut?”

“They told me nobody makes it a day out there,” Ryder snarled.

“They were correct. Nobody does,” the hellhound replied.

Ryder tightened his hand into a fist. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“No. You didn’t ask, and if you haven’t figured it out yet, slut, I want you to fail,” the hellhound replied, and then stepped forward, until he was once again standing right in Ryder’s face.

“Did you want to surrender or keep trying?” he asked. “If you’re tired, you could lay down and let me finish the job.”

Gods help him, Ryder felt his legs go weak for a split second. Some part of him really did want what the demon offered, just as badly as he had wanted the bull’s cock in his mouth and the tiger’s in his eager little hole. He was so tainted already. Was there any point in resisting?

A life of eternal pleasure was all just one motion away. He’d just have to offer himself to the hellhound, and that’d be that. No more questions, no more hesitation.

“I’m not going to,” Ryder growled. “I’ll sit here the next twenty-two hours over giving up.”

“Bit stubborn, aren’t you?” the hellhound grinned, and then, reached to squeeze his own, seemingly permanently erect shaft, pushing out some precum over his hand. “I’ll just have to force you, then. Ever fought a demon before?”

Before Ryder could reply the hellhound pounced. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten into a fight, though. The sergal managed to grab the hellhound’s arm, using his own momentum to dodge the first blow, and instead redirected the strength behind the lunge. The hellhound slammed into the cathedral’s stone wall so hard that he heard the stained-glass windows ring. He instantly collapsed onto the floor.

“I’ll show you force,” Ryder growled. He felt stronger than ever, and the sheer rush of adrenaline had him rock hard again. Dominance, anger, and lust surged through him in equal measure.

It was a need he hadn’t felt in a while. And unlike getting fucked, his mind, drowning in pheromones, lust, and corruption, didn’t immediately recognize the danger it brought. The hellhound had fallen at an angle that left his ass on full display, and right then, it seemed like a perfectly reasonable thing to do; to put the demon in his place and show who the alpha hou- the alpha sergal was!

Before his tormentor could recover, Ryder was on top of him, pinning the hellhound against the stone floor with a firm hand while trying to angle himself properly to mount him. The demon managed only a quiet whimper, clearly completely defeated, which only served to make Ryder even more excited at establishing his dominance. His cock left streaks of precum across the hellhound’s slick, black-furred cheeks before it finally caught in the furnace-hot hole in between.

The demon stretched around him, his corrupted body slowly yielding around the sergal’s canine shaft, surrendering as squirt after squirt of precum soaked the hellhound’s entrance. Both he and the demon dog gasped when his cock suddenly pushed through that tight, clutching pucker.

“Now who’s in control?” Ryder snarled as he roughly thrust a few inches deeper. The hellhound groaned, though he didn’t sound nearly as displeased as he should have, which would’ve made Ryder worry about what was happening… if he wasn’t already balls deep inside the tightest ass he had ever felt in his life.

Each of the hellhound’s entirely too eager clenches felt like it was sucking him dry. It left him feeling empty, but in a good way, like he had already cum, though it didn’t lessen his building pleasure any, either. If anything, it only compounded upon that ravenous hunger, the need to take and claim and fuck, to feast on their…

Ryder struggled to keep thinking at all. The jolts of pleasure kept interrupting his train of thought, derailing it just before the inevitable conclusion.

He sped up his thrusts, hammering into the insensate hellhound as if he were a dog himself, panting and growling he rutted the other male like a feral beast.

You probably shouldn’t fuck a demon.

The rare echo of a thought from the pure parts of his mind felt like a draft, a mirage, or maybe just a distant whisper, but it got through to him at the last second. Ryder, though his entire body screamed at him to keep going, still managed to stop himself just before the point of no return, even though his loins burned with the need to release, and he had to fight tooth and nail to keep his muscles from going, from rutting away despite the distant feeling of dread.

Instead, he held himself deep inside the hellhound, trembling, wanting to continue but not daring to.

“What’s the matter, stud?” the hellhound chuckled, suddenly sounding like he was perfectly fine. “Aren’t you going to finish?”

Ryder groaned as the demon’s pucker clamped down around his cock, so tightly that he almost came on the spot. Going by how wildly he was throbbing, he had probably already leaked plenty of cum into the hellhound’s guts.

“Aren’t you going to fuck what little shreds of your blackened soul remain into me?” he kept teasing, and suddenly, Ryder felt horribly weak. He tried to pull out, only to realize that his knot had swollen inside the hellhound, and that vice-like tightness was holding him in. That moment of clarity, of realizing what his lust had wrought, was like lightning. Jarring, searing lightning.

This was his last chance to resist being completely corrupted, and he was stuck inside a demon who wouldn’t stop wiggling his hips, making sure to clench around and behind his engorged knot eagerly, not letting him stop to even breathe as he mercilessly coaxed the sergal towards an orgasmic trap that he’d set himself up for in a moment of corrupted hubris.

“Stop,” he hissed.

“You wanted it,” the hellhound rumbled, thrusting himself back onto Ryder’s cock.

“I don’t- don’t want to-” the sergal huffed. But he was already over the edge. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his orgasm back for more than a heartbeat. And then he’d have nothing left except the sickly-sweet corruption eating him up and leaving only a ravenous, sex-crazed demon like all the others in this terrible city.

He had no choice.

He’d never had a choice, echoed that fading voice of necessary excuses, the last-ditch effort to not feel guilty about what he had done.

And then he came violently, uncharacteristically howling out with pleasure as the first orgasmic convulsion wracked his body, forced upon him by the hellhound’s constant wiggling. When the demon felt his first throb, pleasure washed over his features, too, as he savored the unwitting offer of a soul for him to harvest.

Ryder's vision blurred as he emptied himself into the hellhound's eager depths, all attempts at self-control gone by now. Each powerful throb sent another thick rope of his seed spurting deep inside. The hellhound clenched rhythmically around Ryder's spasming cock, milking him for all he was worth. Milking him of his mind, his soul, his existence as a mortal person with more interests than endless sex and corruption.

"Yesss, give it all to me," the demon hissed in delight, gyrating his hips to coax out every last drop. "Let it consume you."

Ryder could only moan helplessly as the blinding ecstasy of his release mixed with the sinking realization of what he had done. Though he was the one cumming, he could feel darkness taking hold as there was nothing left inside him to keep it at bay. Like oil, the corruption flowed back through his transformed cock and filled his very being. It seeped into his mind, his heart, his soul, staining him with its vile influence. The changing sergal’s eyes rolled back, his tongue lolling out like a dog’s as the intense pleasure overwhelmed him. It felt so wrong, so dirty and depraved, but he couldn't deny how incredible it was. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, driving himself even deeper into the hellhound's eager hole to make sure that he didn’t spill a drop.

The demonic depravity filling him came with countless fantasies, no longer constrained by inhibitions or any other pesky moralistic notion. He wanted to go outside and fuck and be fucked, to find other explorers and fuck the corruption into them, too. When the hellhound turned enough to offer Ryder a cum-soaked hand, he licked it clean without hesitation, swallowing mouthfuls of what had to be the demon’s own musky cum.

The corrupt euphoria swallowed him whole. As the last shreds of his former self dissolved, all that remained was insatiable lust and an all-consuming need to spread that searing, impossible-to-resist desire. His transformation was complete by the time his orgasm ebbed into the steady, lazy dribble of a canine post-climax, and he slumped down on top of the hellhound. The other hellhound. At this point, what was left of him except a dirty, cum-soaked mutt?

Nothing else mattered anymore. Morality, duty, even his own identity - it all seemed so meaningless compared to the bliss of surrendering to depravity, and spreading it to others, like oil. Like black, tainted, wonderful oil that’d dissolve their beings into demonhood just as it had him.

He reached back to slide a finger into himself, feeling the mess of cum still inside himself, too. It felt amazing, feeling it run out over his balls. He’d wear every drop of mess like a badge of honor.

Ryder was left panting on top of his infernal lover. Only a trained eye could’ve noticed that he had ever been a sergal at all, much less that he hadn’t always been a demon, but he was far past the point of caring. The only thing that really mattered was the feeling of the other hellhound squeezing around his cock, making his orgasm go on for as long as possible while he gushed out the few frayed remains of his mortality and innocence, offering all of himself to his new packmate.

But with them both tangled up in a pile of warm, masculine pleasure and demonic lust, another portal opened in the cathedral, followed by a rush of warmth. Ryder couldn’t turn to look, tied as he was to his hellish partner, but he knew, instinctively, what was about to come.

“Mm. Found a new bitch for the pack, did you? And then let the bitch fuck you?” a deep, bassy voice resonated through the building. “Well, I suppose you can both be cum dumpsters until you catch your next mortal. Time to go home, boys.”

“Oh yes, he’s very eager to serve,” the first hellhound laughed. “But I suppose he’s a little unruly, pinning me down like this. Definitely needs a warm, tight collar to keep his cock in check.”

Home? Where was-

Ryder almost choked as a collar was slipped around his neck and pulled tight by hands so hot that they would’ve burned him, had he not been filled with the hellhound’s filthy, demonic taint. It was adorned with spikes of black metal, and it instantly filled him with a sense of reverent submission to his new, unknown master, yet another device used by the demons to control each other.

He loved the feeling, and moaned out as the collar was tightened further to restrain him. He was already corrupt anyway, just another demon among many, and serving his master’s whims felt as right as anything ever could.

First, he received his new collar, and then a long, iron leash, with a resounding click as it was fastened on the collar’s D-ring. And then a sharp, impatient yank. He fell backwards with a yelp as his knot slipped out of other hellhound, and his still throbbing cock soaked his pitch-black fur with even more cum. The demon grinned at him as he was pulled backwards by impossible strength, and followed with a wide, canine grin on his face.

It was time for them both to go home with his new master.