It Takes A Thief
**Warning: The following story contains scenes of male masturbation, and male/male sex, as well as some weight gain. If this sort of thing bothers you, then why the Hell are you on this site? Special thanks go out to Ox Guntz/Aster for initially conceptualizing The Regal Lion, it's bartender Leon, and the magical effects of Lowenbrau, not to mention for allowing me to write this story. Also, this story is in three parts, all narrated by the same person, but told to three different people at three successive intervals. Just figured you should know that.*
It Takes A Thief
by Gwydion78
It's really not too difficult if you know how.
Just some simple misdirection, that's all, and usually Fate is kind enough to provide it for you. If not, there's always the tried and true methods, a little distraction, a tripping, the classic bump-and-run. Besides, it's much more thrilling being a cutpurse than a merchant or some lowly squire.
Every now and then though, you do get the urge to go for more. Maybe it's for the thrill of it, maybe it's because you're courting the idea of one last big final score. Me? I do it for the thrill of it. Besides, sometimes I do get to make a little bit of money in an honest way when I get hired out to some adventurer so dazed by the possibility of fame and fortune than he doesn't mind sauntering into a dungeon filled with only the Gods know what. Luckily enough for them they have enough insight to seek the assistance of a skilled individual such as myself.
Alright, so I hadn't been hired out in over a year and I was picking peasants to get by. We all have slumps you know. I'd had to fence even some of my better trophies to pay for stays at inns and bribing local guards to let me go. I still have to thank the gods that greed usually wins out over justice.
I can't even remember the last time I got laid. All I know is that it's been so long I've been looking a little too much at some of the males lately.
So when I hear that Lord Halloren is taking a holiday, my eyes get a bit bigger than my stomach, which isn't that hard to do. He's the typical feudalist: he taxes everyone to death and lives in luxury with dozens of servants and probably a personal harem. I'd only heard of the riches he keeps in his treasury, but I'd heard more about the guards with crossbows, the booby traps, fire-breathing dragons, magical snares that'll send your soul on a private tour through the Abyss. The typical things that older thieves tell the new pickers to keep them in line and out of their honey pots.
So I figured what the Hell, I rolled up my picks, put on my leathers, and off I went over the wall.
It was far too easy at first, but I figured it must've been to put a would-be burglar off guard, in that there was no security. No guards. No crossbows. No fire-breathing dragon. No handbasket waiting to take me to Hell. Nothing.
So I figured that he must've hid everything, or an elaborate vault door, or a hidden room, secret door, because so far, the only thing to lift was the flatware, and I'd seen better on a whore's table. I knew that there had to be something here, he certainly wasn't spending the tax money on the public!
Another thing, the castle was for the most part barren. No paintings, no expensive furniture, no wineracks packed with vintages older than most of the town, no literature, nothing of value.
Fuck, had I been beat to the punch? Lord Halloren had been out of town quite a bit lately, and the royal tax collector had been making a few more visits than most would notice. I'll admit that every now and then I think about grabbing a tax chest and living good for a couple of years, but I'm usually brought back to reality by seeing the public hangings.
Of course I go to those. Pays to know your competition and their turf so that when they get caught you can swoop in and claim it. Unfortunately it's usually just the young pickers who get caught and they aren't established enough or smart enough to have even the concept of their own turf.
But enough of that commentary, there was nothing that I could see, and as a result I was rather aggravated. I was even willing to make off with his sheets if it meant a gold or two. So obviously I went to his bedroom. Still no guards, no servants, nothing. What was going on? You at least have to leave *somebody*home to at the very least keep everything from getting dusty, right?
I found his bedroom, mostly barren except for the bed, which unfortunately for me, was without sheets. I couldn't even sell the mattress, it was all torn up... as if by claws...
Now, I'm perfectly aware of the prescence of beast-men. They're all over, and every one of them used to be human until some sort of magical transformation overtook them. For the most part they stayed the same. Still the same men, just bigger, and with an increased libido. As a result some of them could command a hefty price as a "consort". I'm thinking that that's what happened to old Lord Halloren, but rather that he'd been paying a consort rather than becoming one. Probably paid him everything. All the local tax money in the coinpurse of some beast-man whore. Well, at least *that*guy did something to earn it.
Now, I'll admit that I was thinking just a little too long about what kind of beast-man it was and what exactly had happened on this bed. Three years without getting laid does that to a person all too easily. Maybe a dragon-man? A bear-man? A wolf-man? A lion-man? I'll admit that I shivered at that last idea. I'd seen one at the local tavern and it caused a reaction that I was starting to have right at that moment, imagining his Lordship kneeling in front of a large virile lionman, bent over, on all fours, punishing him for every heavy tax and summoning of the guards to evict people like me.
The manor was empty, I figured, who would know? Besides, I could tell that I *really*needed it considering that my breechcloths were probably going to get me off if I wasn't careful. So with a simple shrug my breeches were off and I was laying on the Lord Halloren's bed polishing my dirk, thinking about impaling the old goat a few times myself since he was quite a looker in his younger days. Just as thin and muscular as I am now, though he exercised and ate well and I starved and ran a lot. I moaned and bucked and stroked and I'll admit that I even called out his name a few times, but it was more of a commanding tone than that whiny lover's kind of voice. It wasn't until I seized up and shot my wine that I realized that not once did a female ever enter into the equation, and I was fantasizing about doing some things that were only considered sacred and proper acts in the Dragon God's religion to very same man I'd come to rob.
I'm sure that I would've worried more about the situation if I wasn't so enrapt in the afterglow and just happened to notice that all my bucking and gyrating on the bed had caused a false board to come loose on the bedpost. I reached over with my dry hand, pulling it completely out and lo and behold, a fat leather pouch with the most beautifully dull jangling sound inside. A quick look inside at the golden moonlit glitter. Gems... wonderful beautiful brilliantly cut *gems*!!!
Of course, there wasn't a single person in the area who could give me what these rubies, emeralds, sapphires, pearls... I was already sporting another one by the time I finished the inventory of my newfound wealth, but I figured I could take care of it someplace else. You never know when someone's going to come home and find you practicing your swordplay on their bed. So I pulled up my breeches, laced the bag to my belt, and made my way out, trying to return to my previous train of thought.
There isn't anyone in the area who can give me what these gems are really worth, Halloren taxed them far too much and there aren't any other nobles, so a visit to the cities was in order, where everyone had gold and would be more than happy to give it to me, provided I found the type that didn't mind buying stolen goods. If anything I could just say that I was hocking the family jewels, never mind which family.
Of course, the moment you get money you get nervous about spending it, especially if all you have are gems that most of the poor fools in your village can't even appraise. So I decided against buying a horse. I could've just as easily stolen one, but of course, when you're waiting to fence your fairly stolen goods, you tend to become more law-abiding than most paladins. So I walked down the trade roads off toward the city, figuring to find some sort of inn or tavern where I could try sleeping in the stable before night fell.
I didn't. And by didn't I mean find a stable, or even an inn or tavern by nightfall. But of course I was a shade too entranced by my windfall-induced paranoia to consider just walking a few steps off the beaten path and attempting to find shelter in the nearby wood. Why, you ask? Because there are wolves and bears and trolls and whatever else you can imagine skulking about the forest at night (According to the stories they *only*seem to skulk about during the night) looking for various idiots who think they can save a copper or three by sleeping in the woods instead of a warm comfortable inn and then masticating upon their moronic flesh (Apparently this is the primary staple of a forest-skulking night-stalker's diet). Of course it was primarily the innkeepers who were spreading this, and why oh why would a businessman ever lie to a potential customer who can't decide whether or not he wants to pay for a room? But regardless of the propaganda of the untold perils of the local woodlands spread by the merchant class, I wasn't about to take my chances. After all, I was fully aware that there were far more dangerous types out in the woods at night, namely broke young pickers like myself armed with assorted sharp implements to threaten against my person with which of course would work considering that I have a severe aversion to any sort of pain, seeing as it tends to hurt me.
So I kept walking. It wasn't really too bad. The moon was out some of the time, despite all the cloud cover and the ominous thunder off in the distance. What could possibly go wrong?
Yes, I was making a few rather outrageous vows and promises to various deities offering foolish services and contracts only a dullard would accept in simple exchange for my surviving a noctural walk down a heavily travelled trade road when it appeared only a sprinkle was on the way. I have learned the virtue of bravery since that encounter. I haven't exactly *adopted*it yet but I am well aware of its advantages and failings and have taken the matter under consideration.
The rain did come down. In buckets. I think I saw a few frogs in there. Maybe I shouldn't have made so many prayers to so many opposing gods. Eventually I was reduced to slogging my way through the mud (I don't really know how to exactly explain how you slog, you kind of have to do it yourself first to really appreciate the finer points of slogging), and after a few minutes of that, I saw a light, like a beacon of hope in this horrid maelstrom the gods had chosen me to endure.
Really, it was.
A shelter. A building. An *inn*. I practically whooped for joy and slogged all the faster through the mud until there I was, at the front door, seeing the slowly swinging sign hanging overhead, "The Regal Lion". Two floors, the sound of people inside, a little bit raucous but nothing I couldn't handle. I opened the door, and in I went.
Lion-men. Everywhere. I'm telling you that I practically burst my breeches. Not a speck of clothing on any of them. Everywhere the smooth tawny musculature, a beautiful hybrid mix of human and feline. Thick broad chests covered in a sea of soft golden fur, dark nipples standing proudly, firm kidney-bean rumps and flicking tails. And the manes... Long regal symbols of true authority, some tied back, some loose, some just flowing as if in an invisible breeze. The legs, arms, bulging with the essence of masculinity, muscles on muscles, some with thick veins visible through even the fur. And the cocks... Ye Gods of Lust and Desire be praised, the *COCKS*!!! Every one kept in its own straining pouch of foreskin, a set of low heavy balls, fiery red spikes peeking out, standing defiant and proud, nestled gently in their fuzzy sheaths, dripping with pre, pumping in mouths, paws, arseholes, rubbing against each other in a symphony of virility!
I'll detach for just a moment to explain things. When you're a thief, you learn to listen to what your body has to tell you, because nearly every time it's telling you something that will save your life. Therefore, you want to have the sort of relationship with your body and its instincts that fosters a feeling of trust, lest you suddenly get the instinct to leap in front of a runaway ox cart simply because your body wanted to spite you for not trusting that "I've got to piss" instinct you had the other day. When it says, "Jump!" you do it, and let it decide how high. And when it decides, "I want cock! Now!!!" you listen to it of course, because it's not about to change its mind. Now, is getting cock something that's going to save my life someday? Probably not, but I'm certainly not one to take my chances. Besides, I seemed to like it so far, who was I to argue?
So of course I was feeling these commands, and then... ahhh... I saw you, the lovely tender behind the bar. Eyes I could lose myself in, a body I could spend a week exploring, seeking out every patch of flesh that elicited that shiver of arousal, a mane I'd want nothing more than to run my fingers through all day. Even though I can tell you're not the consort type I'm telling you that if you were, I'd hand over this pouch right now for one night of your undivided attention.
Thanks, but I can tell you hear that a lot, you don't have to humour me. No, no problem whatsoever. The house brew? I'd love some. It looks like a table opened up, I'll just take it over there.
*******
Ohhh sweet gods that was incredible... No this is only my second night here, but I'll admit that I didn't see you when I first came in, the tall broad-shouldered leonine with the white streak in his mane and the long royal scepter that begged to be used. I know I would've remembered you. Ahhh... You've been up here this whole time. So nice of your friend to introduce us... How'd I meet him? I'd be happy to tell you.
The bartender, Leon I think his name is, had just given me my first taste of the house brew, and I'd never tasted anything so sweet, smooth, tangy. It definitely did quite a number on my inhibitions because I almost never get drunk. In my line of work its almost an imperative to keep sharp and knocking back a few too many tends to make you sloppy, but I wanted another one by the time I was almost done with the first. He really can brew a great ale, I'm surprised there aren't more people here drinking it down. So the second went down, and then the third, and I was starting to get the spins just a bit so I got up and took off my shirt. It was pretty wet anyway and I didn't want to end up catching my death from a cold. I took a peek down at my chest and at first that I was hallucinating from the strong liquor. I could literally see my muscles tightening, and swelling at the same time, like I'd suddenly been gifted with titan strength and it was taking effect as of that moment. My meek undernourished pectorals, abs, biceps, triceps, all of it began to feel warm, very nicely warm as they grew.
I'm telling you right now, there's nothing that makes you feel quite as powerful as a god than looking down at your body and watching it attain the heights of superhuman strength. I could even feel my dirk growing rather hot as the gods decided to reforge it into something a bit more impressive and intimidating, which of course caused my breeches to swell out, getting rather tight as my legs caught up with the rest of me.
It never occured to me that this was all happening right in front of several prime choice leonine studs who apparently were listening to their body's demands for something a bit more phallic as well. Before I knew it a seven footer was standing behind me, nibbling gently on my neck, whispering "Let's finish this in my room, shall we?".
Like I was going to refuse someone so direct and straightforward. That and I was far too aroused to care where I was going. I could've been being carried off to sacrifice for all I knew. I doubt I would've cared. It was mainly a blur of hallways and stairs, then I think a door. All I really remember clearly was how much my skin was starting to itch, like I'd been targetted by every mosquito in the kingdom all at once. I remember a bed, and then being bent over it, face down, my arse pointed toward I could only assume him. Nibbles on the neck again, and then, "I got taken like this during my change, there's nothing like a good hard fuck during the transition."
Of course, I know now what he meant, but at the time all I could understand was "good hard fuck" and that I was apparently going to be on the receiving end, and this was definitely going to be a new experience for me. I'm supposing that you remember the first time you yourself felt a sandpaper tongue on that tight opening you keep under your tail. Truly? I'm flattered, I hope your friend taught me well enough. I just tried to repeat what he did.
It was a simple matter, though it took me completely by surprise at first, and then I felt a strong paw pushing me back down into my previous position after the shock of feeling a wet... something... touching a part of me I had no idea could supply those kind of feelings. Then... I felt it again, but this time I wasn't doing anything but lying there, feeling my arse being sanded by his tongue, then deep into my cleft, finding my hole, massaging and moving the tight skin of my opening up and down and around, the big lion lapping at my arse. I could've sworn he was purring in delight as he did it, and rather loudly at that. It never occured to me that it was me, as my tawny fur grew in, giving me an impressive coat, with even more masculine thick bushes of hair on my chest and arms and legs, hairy like a barbarian though I was too lost in this new bliss to notice. I knew that my face started feeling warm when he finally penetrated inward, opening me up, and for the first time I felt something moving *inside*of me, and ye gods it felt *fantastic*. Like I told the bartender, when your body tells you what it wants, you listen to it, and you'll never go wrong.
Shortly after feeling that rough tongue razing my passage he pulled it out, and agonizingly slow at that. We cats *are*sadists, you know. I then felt that tongue which had just been up in a place that nothing had ever entered, at least from *that*direction, entering my ear, which had pointed, then grown, then flopped a little, like a lion's ear should be. Slathering inside, then soft nibbles at the tips, then gentle whispers in my warm wet ears, "Time to teach you to roar, kitten." I then felt his mouth close around my neck, and still, I thought it was him purring like a rutting tomcat, and then I felt something pressing at my rear, along with a strange feeling right above that feeling. I was about to reach back and see what exactly was happening back there when that was changed all too quickly. It tends to happen when a seven foot tall lion who amounts to about six hundred pounds of solid muscle decides that you're his cock's new personal sheath, and he's going to break you in.
I'd love to say that it was one of the most blissful moments of my life that provided me with an awe-inspiring epiphany. Unfortunately, it hurt. My eyes went wide, my mouth dropped open, which gave it a good cue to start growing my muzzle and teeth, stretching my nose outward to meet my jaw, my eyes watering as they changed color, my hair sprouting faster and faster in a regal ebon mane, my hands gripping the bed as my fingers thickened, claws began to unsheathe. I'm rather sure the same happened to my feet, but at the time, I was a bit too preoccupied with the fact that my arse had just been forcefully opened and invaded by a proud tower of leonine virility which grated my lining and all too quickly found my rectum.
A few muffled grunts and then he was all the way in, his tip pressing firmly against what I've found is called the prostate. I believe though at that time when he first hit it I was calling it, "Please, sweet gods, do that again." Once again the demands of my body had come through, and slowly, he began to thrust.
I've found that the disadvantage to fucking someone while they're in the throes of the transformation is that their arse tends to grow along with them. Therefore, not as tight. However, watching a male change into a virile leonine under you while you pound and fuck him mercilessly tends to more than outweigh the loss of a virgin tight ass.
On the up-side, if you're the one being fucked, the pain fades away and suddenly you feel full, complete, powerful, masculine, even though you technically are the one being fucked. Hearing him grunt in my ear as he bucked and thrusted his pole deeper and deeper into me, faster and faster, ramming my prostate with every frenzied spearing, I felt strong, I felt majestic, I felt regal, I felt like all the creatures of the land should bow to my will. I wanted to shake my maned head and bellow a roar as I crested that would shake the heavens to the firmanent. I didn't accept the lion fucking me, I took him, I demanded he go faster. I commanded him to fuck me harder. The wet sounds of his groin slapping against my firming ass as I grew drove me on. I felt his balls slapping against my own as mine descended, swelled, bounced and jangled in their tight warm furry sac.
I had completely lost all idea that I was human. I didn't care, I needed that bliss, that feeling of power and strength coursing through me as I felt my cock finally finished its own transformation from a dirk to a zweihander. I felt it slapping hard against my abs again and again as he rocked me with his heavy thrusts, and then, sweet gods, I felt his paw. I'm sure you've found how exquisite a blessing these leathery pads on our palms and fingers are, haven't you? Especially when they're good and slick? Fur and flesh and blunt hard claws ravaging that one part of you that can truly appreciate pleasure spiked with a lace of pain. I knew that my tail was flicking and whipping against him even before I truly knew that I'd grown a tail, his fat leocock slamming and slapping into my virgin ass while his paw merciless pounded and jacked and stroked my tower. I could feel my swollen balls lifting slowly, ready to fire enough spunk to sire a thousand cubs, or sate a few hungry subjects.
His tongue in my ear again before a commanding whisper, "Make me proud, kitten. Roar." And then I felt my prostate receive a near crushing bludgeon from his swollen cockhead, lighting the powerkeg that he'd built me up to be.
I understand that Leon's done his best to soundproof the rooms up here. He is to be commended for that. Otherwise I'm sure that I would've shaken the inn to its foundations with my first true roar.
All bragging aside though, I suddenly felt a fast spasming in my rear, along with a eruption of heat, like he was pumping white lava into my body. He released my neck to let out a long satisfied growl as his hips continued pumping quickly, shaking my body with his crest and therefore my cock in his paw.
Now I've cum many many times in my life, and even during my first orgasm I was perfectly aware of what was happening. Even when the initial bliss hit for the first time I've never truly lost my semblance of control and gotten a little too vocal. My proud run ended last night. The feeling that spread from the depths of my balls was nothing short of true holy ecstasy granted by the gods, and that was just the buildup! My cock stiffened and my eyes went wide. I completely forgot about the lust-driven beastman on my back fucking me like his cock was about to fall off. Instead I revelled in the slow eternal moment as sacred bliss suffused my genitals. And then, after floating in a warm perfect sea at the edge of forever, I tumbled down the long fall back to the world. The roar I bellowed on the way down was not the orgasmic sound of triumph, it was a terrifying thunder of rage at having such perfection, of having found the edge of the heavens and then returning to reality.
I don't think I realy came down from *that*mood for a few hours, but your friend was more than happy to help me reach my summit again and again and again. That's probably why he was walking rather funny today, I lost count after eleven, and it wasn't until the fourth time that he was able to get me all the way in.
No, I don't really think I'm a king, or the Lion God's chosen, your friend just tends to call me that now because I reamed his arse like no other here and I tend to get a bit... possessive while I'm coupling. I'm sure you found that out. Once I come down I'm a pretty likable g-...
Mmmmmm... keep that up and I just might have claim you like you friend...
Your Majesty? Alright, I'll play along... How exactly *did*you plan to serve your Liege tonight?
Truly? Well I've no objection to th-.... *purrrrrrrrrrrrr*It's good to be the King.
*******
How did I get back here... that is a good question. I suppose that its a tale you wouldn't mind hearing while... Mmmmm... Little harder if you would... Can you hear alright down there? Good. Don't blame me if you choke on it.
I spent over a week there, I believe. I don't really know how many times the sun set and rose, I kept track of the days by the number of rooms I ended up in. I'm pretty sure that I was just a novelty, but as long as they kept bending over and buying me beers, I didn't mind one bit.
I'll admit that I traded a gem or two, but Leon was a good enough appraiser to know that I was paying him enough for a month. To this day I still would've handed him the pouch for one night in his arms, but it's a dream I'll have to hold on to for a while.
Anyway, I noticed early on that soon after finishing a rather enjoyable time, I'd eventually start reverting back to human form. That was supposed to happen, anyway. Usually I'd get five or six mugs of the Lowenbrau and wouldn't have to worry about it.
But I'm supposed to be telling you how I got here... Mmmm... And a little harder... And squeeze those nuts, you won't break them.
Where was I... Oh yes... I was sitting in the common room, my first conquest idly petting my chest while I downed one beer after the other as I slowly pumped my hips considering that my second conquest had his head buried in my lap much like yours is now. It'd gotten to the point where it didn't take me all that long if I just wanted to let go and fire away, so I was just testing the limits of my balls and seeing how many loads I could feed to my "subject" before I finally got tired.
I'd been down there for two hours and I still wasn't exhausted in the least.
I'll admit that it struck me as just a bit odd that I could go so long, so I questioned Leon about it. And yes, I was hoping that after informing him of my concern that I'd cum about forty times in the previous hour and wasn't the least bit tired that he'd want to test that for himself. He didn't though, but I did find out that lions are known for being able to mate for days. Then he asked me how many of house specials I'd been drinking, because large amounts tend to have side-effects.
Now he tells me.
I'd drunk more than enough to make for certain that I was never going to be human again. I was a Lionman, no escaping it, and I should please remember to pay my bill. Luckily most of the beers were bought for me by the other patrons, so my tab was settled with one of the gems. Apparently someone had run up an enormus tab on the Lowenbrau and had been at the inn for over a month as "house entertainment" to work off his debt, which never seemed to go down since he kept ordering more beer. I hadn't seen the guy yet, but from what I heard he was a lousy lay anyway and I had my pick of the studs.
I tried to dry out on the Lowenbrau and switch over to some of the regular ale, but all too soon I was ordering it again. It just tastes so much better when you're a Lionman, all the hidden tastes just emerge and your whole body goes all a-tingle, not to mention the smell that just fills your mind with rutting Lionmen and the pungent aroma of musk. I wasn't drinking anywhere near the amount I was before, but a couple every hour tend to add up. Luckily the gem I gave Leon covered my bill for a few days.
I was right about being a novelty. Eventually I wasn't the fresh meat anymore when a barbarian who looked like a beast man long before he ever touched the Lowenbrau came in. At least I got to be the one who broke him in, but within two nights my conquests were at his side. As a result I drank a little more.
You can see the results now, can't you? I can say that gaining weight has never been a concern for me. Being full-figured as they say only means one thing to a thief: You're eating well. Therefore, hanging around the corpulent usually led to a meal, even if you were fighting for scraps. So when I woke up one morning with a muzzy hangover and quite a beergut I didn't panic as most would. After all, my body wanted cock, I gave it cock, it was happy. My body wanted more Lowenbrau, I drank it, I grew a pot belly, my body was even happier. Besides, Leon gave me a second look when I went down into the common room and it wasn't out of shock. Guess Leon has a thing for table muscle.
*grunt*Little faster... *Urrrrrrrrrrrrgh...rrrrrrowl*Alright. Turn around and bend over. No. Now. That's better. Where was I...
Oh yes... The most portly lionman I'd ever seen came into the room. His mane was black as pitch, just like my own, and his coat was golden and nearly had the same lustre to it. I could count three chins under his pudgy face, and his chest was a sight to behold. His pecs sagged and were fat and full like a prize concubine's, and they jiggled gently as he walked, but the jiggling was nothing compared to the belly on that lionman. It was a giant furry dome of corpulence, a virtual monument to gluttony, with a navel that beckoned like a dark cavern to be explored, and huge sagging love handles that demanded to be grabbed, a giant pillowy rounded arse that testified its softness with every bouncing step, and giant tree trunk legs to hold him up. At this point, I became aware of how much I was practically drooling at the sight of this testament to leonine existence. In the world of the predator, this lion's table muscle proudly provided the definition of the word "success". I'd realized that my body has made another decision. I apparently not only wanted cock, but I wanted the cock of a rather portly male at that.
It didn't take him long to notice my staring, or my beergut, and within a minute he was standing before me, quivering nervously, still apparently not used to his position as an indentured concubine. I stood up, and petted his belly slowly, eliciting purrs from him as he returned the gesture which I'll admit got my motor running as well. I heard a few snickers from the studs, but within a second I was growling at them, causing them to instinctively shrink back, even the new choice stud. I guess they remembered who was king of the pride. And I'll admit that at that point I believed that I was king of the pride, and so did the rather portly one in front of me. His head was bowed submissively, and I could tell that he didn't like reacting as such but the beasts within us were too strong now to be denied. All I could think though, was that he *wasn't*part of my pride, and that this was a grave error on my part that I planned to remedy as quickly as possible.
It was a blur getting back to my room, but I know that at the time I understood what he and I were saying, but now it's mostly the lusty and commanding growls of a lion about to take a mate, and said mate offering himself to his king. It was a haze of frenzied mating. I can't remember how many times we coupled but I know that the next morning I was finished and so was he. Of course, we'd both drank enough Lowenbrau that night to keep us going, but of course we both drank so much that we were both a bit bigger by the time the sunlight cracked the window.
I awoke that morning with my face buried in the warmest most comfortable pillow I'd ever felt. Inns in the heavens should have aspired to the perfection of that pillow. It even moved and stirred with your motions, not to mention it was big enough to wrap even my lion-sized arms around...
Yes, I did eventually realize that I woke up with my face in his belly, but I was hungover at the time. Now just relax. I promise it'll feel fantastic.
After a few moments I felt my mane being softly petted, which caused me to start purring, which vibrated the pillow which caused it to start purring. It was then that I realized where I was. A few seconds later I realized that my morning erection was still lodged in his arse. He moaned and stirred and looked up at me. I looked at him and started to pull out, but didn't want to. I'd fucked him a hundred times the night before and I still needed more. He took hold of my hips and wouldn't let me pull out any further. And then I heard that wonderful word in the most wonderfully pleading and submissive voice, "Again." I only grinned, showing plenty of teeth, and took up position gnawing on his stretched gold doubloon sized nipples, which according to the tooth marks covering them I'd spend a fair amount of time chewing the night before.
I sunk back into him slloooooooooooow.... Mmmmm... Yes... just like now... And he writhed underneath me, mewling like a kitten getting his favorite toy and a saucer of milk, which in a way he was getting. And feeling that belly move under me as he thrashed and growled and vainly attempted to thrust back at me, slapping my thighs with his own, mashing his belly against mine. I was losing myself to the haze of mating again, seeing that from the apparent bites and marks on his immense frame I had apparently really taken him the previous night in more ways that I'd originally thought. According to the instincts that the Lowenbrau had amplified and unleahsed, this mountain of lion fat belonged to me, and only me, and we both knew it.
My words became wild growls and grunts as I started picking up the pace, slamming my groin into his arse, planting myself deep within him, watching his giant belly jiggle and roll in waves with every glorious thrust. Apparently all the activity down there was rubbing against his own tower, buried under the tawny expanse of his obesity, which caused him to gyrate and moan in response.
Yes, just like that, apparently you've heard us before.
Yet still, I was still curious about this mysterious male that I'd taken as a mate, apparently. I'd heard of such things happening while under the influence of a fine ale, but I did want to know whose incredible, tight, velvety arse...
So I asked him who he was between possessive lusty growls and hard impaling thrusts. I had to give him credit for even being aware enough to understand that I was speaking common. It appeared that the mammoth leonine was on the edge of cresting, so I decided to hold off on him for a little so that he wouldn't fire his wine and go back to sleep before I got an answer. I asked him again who he was, I got a growl and a command to keep going.
Of course, when you're a lionman who's taken and claimed nearly every male in the inn and have everyone referring to you as their King, your body decides that you're not about to take any manner of disobedience. Did I ever mention how possessive I tend to get when I'm coupling, especially when it's a good hard mounting?
*snort*Of course you belong to me now. Was there ever a doubt in your mind? Now hold still.
Where was I... Oh yes. With a growl and a glare he was firmly put back in his place and reminded just what his place was. I asked him again, and nearly burst out in laughter at his response. Seems I had found out where the Lord Halloren had been all this time, and probably why his manor was empty, and with my heist why he was probably working as "house entertainment". I thought back to my original fantasy on his bed, doing exactly what I was doing now. I'll admit that some small decent part of myself was appalled that the Lord Halloren had taken all of the peasants tax money and spent it here instead of doing something worthwhile, like letting them eat. Some just part of me felt that this disgraced noble should be made to pay for his crimes.
So I reached under his belly and gripped that fat piece of meat and stroked him fast, keeping him on the brink where I wanted him, but never letting him go over. I mentioned that we cats are sadists, right? I'd be happy to demonstrate. After all, you're close to bursting yourself, aren't you?
I moved myself in and out of him slowly, in firm control of my orgasm and his, watching and relishing the maddening ecstasy that crossed his face, and then stopped, further enjoying the look of taking it away.
A few minutes of this and he was begging, offering me... Well, how about you guess for me? Offer a few things in exchange for letting you make a mess of my sheets? Hmmm... That's good, but more. More. You're getting close. Ah... good. He offered that too. Truly? And you swear on that? Good. Let me finish, and then you may.
He offered me everything. His wealth, his manor, his title, his life, his soul, his heart, his love, his mind. You name it, it was mine. I'll admit I got a little drunk in being given that much power over him. I barely had time to say "I accept" before I leaned in, locking my teeth around his neck, pumping his erection with my paw as fast as I pumped my erection in his arse. And how did it feel.... *rrrrrrowwwwllllllll*You. Tell. Me.
*RRRRRRROOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!*
*purrroowwwl*After that... It was just a matter of handing Leon a few gems to cover my new mate's bar tab and taking him back to the village. We stay out of sight, and there's no need for a staff, and I even pawned off the rest of the gems to give the local economy a bit of a boost. Even I have my generous moments. But then again a King does have to look out for his pride, especially when the previous Lord hasn't paid the taxes on the fief for eight years. As result I've had to find methods for keeping the bill collectors from breaking down the doors and taking what I've given to my pride. Yes, young subject, just like this method.
Why don't you take a walk down to the Regal Lion? Just tell them I sent you, it should be worth a couple mugs of the house brew. And thanks for the break, Mr. Royal Tax Collector... I'll see you next month.
(finished July 27, 2003, 9:37pm)